Part 1

Jim Duggan pulled his collar up against the cold rain sluicing down from a grey leaden sky. A biting wind was whipping the rain along the city streets causing people to cling closely to walls as they made their half-hearted way to their jobs. He had given up fighting the loosing battle of keeping his cigarette lit in such shitty weather; it hung forlornly from his tightly clenched lips. Monday mornings were bad enough, he thought to himself, without starting the day soaked to the skin.

Jake, his local news-stand guy, called out a greeting and Jim acknowledged him. Jim rounded the corner of the block into his office's street and fell against the door. He rented two second floor rooms of a less than auspicious turn of the century building. Truth to tell, it was about as much as he could afford and, like many other private eyes in San Francisco, he was definitely entrenched in the second division. Domestic cases, infidelity and the occasional surveillance job made up his case lists; it was grimy work and his office kinda lent itself to his workload. Speaking of surveillance jobs, he had just completed a three-week stint keeping tabs on old man Grozinsky's import/export business. Seems that Grozinsky's nephew and a couple of employees were "exporting" a percentage of Grozinsky's stock into their own truck every night. To keep a long (and boring) story short, Jim's photos helped nail the little creep and his pals.

Grozinsky had paid a hundred bucks up front, with the remaining hundred and fifty dollars after Jim helped get a conviction. This meant that Jim could take the front door entrance today without fear of meeting his landlord Lenny Pullowski. The fire escape was bad enough when it was dry, with the rainstorm there was a good chance that Jim would break his goddamned neck.

"Hi Lenny, mail come yet?" Jim asked, trying to muster some civility towards the rat like Pullowski.

"Yeah, couple bills by the looks of it and a letter from Miami. That'll be Brenda after alimony again heh Duggan!" replied Pullowski with a lopsided smile.

Jim nodded glumly. Lenny had a way of making a bad start to the day worse he thought to himself and headed up the stairs to his office.

"Oh by the way Duggan. A dame came by wanting someone to track down her husband. I let her in to your office to wait for you," Pullowski said enviously.

Jim turned; annoyed that Pullowski was so free with his entry into his offices but more intrigued by the "dame" as Pullowski had described her. He pushed open the half open door to what was formerly his secretary, Gloria's office. He had let her go, the prosaic word for firing her, two weeks ago. A downturn in business he had said, and this was partly true. However, he knew she was wasting her life on the pitiful wages he could pay he; she was definitely worth more than $25 a week and she deserved a job with a future. Her tearful departure still hurt though and Jim had eased the hurt with a bottle of Jim Beam.

Jim pushed the frosted glass door open and walked into his office. She was stood looking through streaked windows onto the street below. Jim hated to agree with Lenny but this was definitely a Dame. She wore a long length shiny coat that shimmered wetly in the gloomy office. Peeking from beneath the coat Jim saw black patent stilettos, the 4-inch heels were steel reinforced and glinted in time to the rain-slicked coat.

She turned as he entered and he saw that she had lit a cigarette, pale bluish smoke snaked surreally from the long cigarette holder. Her face was attractive but she was stopped from being truly beautiful by a patrician coldness visible in her steel grey eyes. Her lips were thin and painted a deep red that contrasted with her pale skin and ivory hair. Her cheekbones, strongly defined and well chiselled, gave her face a cat like quality.

"Um, Hi I'm Jim Duggan and these are my offices. I, uh, didn't catch your name from my landlord," Jim floundered.

"That, Mr Duggan, is because I never gave it to that annoying little man," she decreed, "My name is Juliet Smythe-Carter, you may call me Mrs Smythe-Carter."

"Pleased to meet you Ju..., Mrs Smythe-Carter. How can I help you?" Jim spluttered taken back by her chilly introduction. He wouldn't be bitten twice and decided not to offer her his hand.

"Quite simply Mr Duggan, you can find my husband Philip. He has been missing for nearly two weeks," she informed him.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but surely this is a police matter I mean..,"

"Mr Duggan, if I wanted my business broadcast all across the bay, then yes I would contact SFPD. I do not choose to do this. Do you want this case or should I consult one of your many competitors?" she said tersely.

"No, no don't get me wrong, of course I want the case. I was just wondering why no police involvement. I get a lot of clients through that door that don't want the police involved in their affairs. I never pegged you for one of them, that's all," Jim was feeling more confident, after all if this dame was scared of the police then there was an angle he could work on.

"Very well, may I sit so we can conduct business in a, more comfortable manner," she asked.

"Oh sure, I'm sorry," Jim was back on the defensive.

As she sat she undid the coat and slipped it from her shoulders. Jim took the still wet coat and hung it, in an almost exaggerated show, on the rickety coat stand. He looked at Mrs Smythe-Carter (hell he even referred to her this formally in his own thoughts). She wore a simple, but undoubtedly expensive cream angora sweater. Her sizeable breasts heaved slightly as she exhaled another blast of cigarette smoke and Jim realised she had detected he was ogling her.

"My husband is wealthy, very wealthy. He is heir to Carter Consolidated Chemicals. I think he has been kidnapped," her resolve appeared to splinter ever so slightly.

"Have you received any ransom letters, telephone calls from the kidnapper," asked Jim.

"No, nothing as yet. You don't understand Mr Duggan. I don't think mere criminals have kidnapped my husband. He has recently become infatuated by um, a woman of less than perfect breeding," she paused annoyed as she saw a smile creep onto Jim's lips," A woman called Madame Angelique, though I doubt that is her real name."

"So you think this Angelique dame has you old man?" Jim thought he had the angle on this case now and he wanted this woman to know it," then how'd you know that he is being held against his will?"

Low blow Jim, but worth it, he thought to himself. He regretted his last remark seconds later when he saw her jaw tremble and Mrs Smythe-Carter fought back tears.

"I'm sorry, " Jim handed her what passed for a clean handkerchief and watched as she dabbed her eyes. Hell she even had class when she was crying.

"When I say infatuated with her. I am not doing justice to my husband. He was enslaved, hopelessly besotted by this woman. I do not know how she has gained control of my husband but he appears to have been robbed of his will by her," Juliet added.

"Intriguing, do you have anything on this woman an address or something?" asked Jim, his curiosity peeked slightly.

"Unfortunately Mr Duggan I do not. All I have is an article in a local newspaper about the strange beliefs of Madame Angelique," she took a crumpled piece of newspaper from her purse and passed it to Jim.

Whether Jim's disappointment that the article contained no photograph showed he wasn't sure. He read the brief article slowly, glancing up at his prospective client a few times.

The article was poorly written and slightly sensationalist. It went on to say that a Dr Angelique Verlaine, an expert in classical studies had formed a society for women only. Dr Verlaine believed, and Jim sniggered audibly at this, that mankind was doomed unless women took control of society. To this end she had instituted a club based on ancient pagan practices and vague allusions to Amazonian traditions. Men were, and this was the killer, allowed to join as underlings and subjects of the women members.

"I've read some crazy, way out stuff but this is really way out there with weirdest. And you say your husband...?"

"Philip," she interjected, "Philip was besotted with this woman, and I guess her insane ideas."

Jim looked across at his client; her eyes were giving away her battle to stem tears. He wanted to throw a protective arm round her, to assure her that he would reunite her with her husband. However, he froze; Mrs Smyth-Carter moved in a different social world to Jim's usual female clients, and in 1950s America, a guy like Jim definitely did not take liberties with "dames" like her.

A brief pause allowed her to compose herself and continue to relate how a casual leafing through pulp magazines one fateful morning began the chain of events.

"We were out driving, out in the bay area, when Philip pulled over into a gas station. While he filled the Corvette, I casually flicked through magazines. Now Mr Duggan, although I am not without knowledge about, ahem, some of the more exotic activities adults indulge in these days, nothing had prepared me for activities described in one particular magazine."

Jim moved in his seat, and he urged her to continue.

"A magazine called Fantastique containing deplorable acts and lewd suggestions was in my hands. I must have let out an audible gasp of horror because both the gas station owner and Philip came over to my aid. Philip took that horrid publication from me and suggested I go and sit in the Corvette. The owner looked embarrassed and was offering some sort of implausible excuse to Philip as I left. "

Jim was making rough notes as the story progressed, occasionally looking up to see Mrs Smyth-Carter's ivory cheek redden from embarrassment. A faint smile was on his lips.

The sight of Jim taking this story lightly angered Juliet. However, she decided not to give him the pleasure of an outburst. She would however shorten her planned tale to the salient details.

"Philip returned to the automobile and we returned back home. I was in no mind to continue after the unpleasantness at the gas station," she continued, "We did not mention the event and I thought no more of it."

"Don't tell me, your husband had bought that magazine," Jim stated, almost triumphantly.

"Am I really so transparent Mr Duggan?" she asked peevishly.

"Um, no. But frankly Mr Smyth-Carter I've heard this type of story a million times. OK, so some of the variables are skewed in this story but it still boils down to your husband wanting what you're not prepared to give. Marriage guidance is not my line of work," Jim added, this case was a crock and he had bitter experience of this type of domestic situation.

"You, you bastard," she spluttered as a slap from her dainty hand underlined Juliet's anger. Her eyes were focussed, accusing and bitter and Jim felt a little ashamed for his half-arsed brush off.

"I'm sorry. I just thought it was better to clue you in at the beginning. I don't think I can help you. Your husband has gone to this woman under his own will. Unless you are alluding to unlawful detention, then neither I nor SFPD can be of any help."

"You think that you are such a smart, tough guy don't you Mr Duggan. Well it may surprise you to know that I do believe he is being restrained against his will him, and several other wealthy industrialists. As I said earlier if you cannot handle this then I will go elsewhere. Although from the looks of your office work is something you should not be turning down," she retaliated venomously.

Jim was shocked, largely from her angry tirade and from the fact that she was right. The remaining money from Grozinsky job was pretty much spoken for, Lenny would see to that.

"OK, it's your money and I have given you fair warning," Jim conceded defeat. He would be working for her after all.

Juliet's dark mood lightened slightly, "Good, your rates?"

" $45 a day plus expenses," hell, he might as well get something out of this he thought as his conscience pricked him at quoting $10 above his usual rate.

"Agreed, I will see you tomorrow at my home, 10:30 am," she said as she handed Jim an address card. She turned and left the room without saying goodbye.

The entrance of Lenny followed her departure in almost unseemly proximity. Lenny raised his eyebrows in a symbolic acknowledgement that Mrs Smyth-Carter had got him hot. Jim didn't reciprocate; instead, he glanced down into the street as best he could through grimy windows to see his new client make her way to her car.

"What do you want now Lenny," Jim asked tiredly without turning to face him.

"Oh, nothing much," he lied, "you working for her then are you Jimmy boy?"

"I hope that was a guess Lenny, if I find you've been earwigging confidential conversations...."

"No I may have caught the end of your talk but I thought she had gone," Lenny's next lie lacked all the probability of the first.

"Yes I am working for the lady and now if you don't mind I have work to do," Jim said, irritated at Lenny's continuing presence.

Lenny skulked back out of the offices and down to his own floor. Jim read and re-read Juliet's card. He didn't exactly know the area, he did know that it was in the richest district of San Francisco though.

The wet morning dragged into an equally miserable afternoon with no let up from the rain driving in from the Pacific Ocean. Jim closed early, taking advantage of a short break in the deluge. Try as he might he couldn't get Juliet out of his mind, and yes the formalities of Mrs Smyth-Carter would be dropped. This had all the hallmarks of a run around and he was damn sure he wasn't going to put up with any Dame's pretensions.

A bourbon induced sleep overwhelmed Jim and he dreamt of Juliet. Not lasciviously however; no just Juliet, her icy visage softening to a smile and her eyes reflecting radiant happiness and not the red rimmed sorrow of Jim's office.

"Hellfire!" Jim woke to the piercing ring of his alarm.

"Whoa Jimmy boy you'd better keep to purely professional on this, She is way outta your league," he audibly cautioned himself.

The storm had passed through during the night and left a clear though chilly morning in its wake. Jim knew that he needed time to find her home and skipped breakfast. A Marlboro replaced his usual coffee as he quickly dressed.

Juliet's home, well her husbands house actually, was quite a spread. He rang at the wrought iron gates and was escorted up the drive by a tall groundskeeper.

"Mrs Smyth-Carter is expecting you," Jim was informed.

"Good morning Mr Duggan, I am so glad you are prompt," Juliet appeared on the balcony," Tom will show you inside."

Jim went through the large doors and waited for Juliet to descend the stairs to meet him.

"Quite a house erm ... Juliet," he ventured half expecting a rebuke. None came.

"Yes, it is my favourite amongst the several homes we have," if that was a boast she didn't expand upon it, " at least it was ... until recently."

A housekeeper entered the room carrying unsolicited coffee and placed the silver tray on an adjacent side table.

"Thank you Melissa," Juliet said, as the housekeeper poured two cups and placed them on the table.

Juliet waited for the housekeeper to leave before continuing, "I have the magazine here Mr Duggan with its filthy contents."

Jim took the rolled up pulp magazine from her, and noticed the gaudy cover. The irony that a $1 magazine could bring down such a wealthy couple wasn't lost on him. The cover showed a rather plain woman with a painfully nipped in waist from what looked like a tightly laced leather corset. Turning the pages the theme continued, women wearing impossibly long leather boots, capes and a whole host of corsets.

"Call me a hard bitten PI but this isn't all that shocking, " Jim said dismissively

"Page 29 Mr Duggan," Juliet murmured.

Jim complied and saw the offending image. It was of a man shackled face down on a leather covered vaulting horse. A woman, masked in something that looked like leather, was mounted on him. He then noticed that she was actually penetrating the shackled man. A huge fake dick sprouted from her crotch and was inches deep in the poor sucker's butt. The most distasteful element was the look on the man's face; pain, humiliation and excitement gave him an almost mask-like visage.

"I, I see," Jim said, genuinely shocked to see such an image

"Your face reveals you too are shocked Mr Duggan. Even now I find the picture too distasteful to look at. Although I believe that the woman, if such a term may be applied to that creature, is none other than Angelique Verlaine," Juliet's whisper like voice concealed a rising tide of anger at having to mention this woman again.

Jim had discretely folded the magazine in half and was reading the accompanying text as Juliet continued.

"It was several.., yes I believe about a week later that I was searching through a closet for some item or other when I came across that filthy magazine hidden inside Philip's jacket pocket. Of course I confronted him about it, but he would not reply, instead he stormed out of the house, He finally returned several hours later and apologised."

"What was his explanation?" asked Jim.

"He just said it was an impulse. One he couldn't rationalise or understand. He cried and asked for my forgiveness and of course I gave it," Juliet said as tears trickled from her eyes.

Jim leaned forward and tentatively held her hand. He felt the alabaster skin and long perfectly manicured fingers in his rough hands. Juliet looked up. Sniffling back tears and smiled slightly.

"It was a lie, he kept the magazine and I discovered that he had made contact with Madame Verlaine. He changed, I noticed marks on his body that he blamed on sports injuries. He wanted me to ... to do things, unspeakable things and he raged when I refused," Juliet said.

"And so he went to this Verlaine woman?" Jim enquired.

"Not immediately, our rows got worse, he accused me of frigidity, of much worse," Juliet whispered, "he staid away for days, returning at all hours and then 6 days ago he left and I have not seen him since."

Jim paused momentarily, allowing the distraught woman to compose herself and dab a handkerchief at moist eyes. Jim smiled at her, her eyes and body posture screamed out for physical contact. He knew that she was vulnerable, scared and insecure and he knew that he would hate himself if he took advantage of her in this condition. Jeez, he thought, his friggin' conscience would always get in the way!

"I think its pretty damned obvious where your husband is and I think, we need to play this carefully. He is probably, well at least as far as the law goes, there under his own volition. I need to know what this Madame Verlaine has on him," Jim said, trying to prepare Juliet for the long haul.

Juliet had managed to compose herself and Jim teased additional information from her. Unless there was some form of blackmail going on, and Jim sincerely doubted that, then all he was going to do is show that Juliet's husband had found another woman. He hated the thought of crushing Juliet's demoralised spirit further; but he had warned her.

An uneasy hour later Jim stood and bade Juliet goodbye. She tried to smile, but failed and another of her ubiquitous servants showed Jim, ever so respectfully, to the door.

Jim took a tortuous route back to the office. One that took him past one of the city's exotic book shops. He hurriedly parked his beat up Buick and went inside, resisting the temptation to run slightly to carry himself over the threshold. Inside, he browsed the shelves and kept his ears alert for anything of use, as several "regulars" exchanged banter. Just as he was setting out to leave, he saw a copy of Fantastique. He grabbed it eagerly and flicked through the pages. Same format as the one Juliet had, he thought, and continued to the end section. Not a sign of Madame Verlaine and then Bingo! One of the letters was from the lady herself and was an incendiary attack on men, modern society and just about every other institution Jim could think of. He had a rough idea of an address for Madame Verlaine in a warehouse district. Jim purchased the magazine and hurried from the store to his car.

His mind was most definitely not on his driving as he made his way back to his office. How was he going to play this one? The direct approach, " Good day Madame Verlaine I think you are have my client's husband in your building." No, he was going to have to use a more indirect method.

That night Jim set out for the approximate location of Madame Verlaine's premises. As he drove at little over walking pace through the largely deserted warehouse district, Jim felt uneasy. This case was weird and Jim hated weirdness. His headlights picked out a couple walking briskly about a hundred yards in front. Both were women. His headlights reflected of the women's silhouettes, especially from their legs. As he edged his car closer he could see that both women tottered on positively monstrously healed patent leather boots. The boots reached up above thigh height and were side buttoned with tiny white buttons contrasting with the gleaming black of the boots.

"Don't need to be a genius to bet where those two are heading," Jim whispered to himself as he slowly turned of the main street and parked in a side street.

He returned to the street and furtively peered round the corner of a grimy warehouse wall. The two women had crossed the quiet road and were approaching a rather large building that looked unremarkable amid the industrial and storage units scattered throughout this area of the city. Jim couldn't' shake the idea of the ridiculous situation he was in, looking for all the world like some kind of peeping tom. Furthermore, he still had no "big idea" of how the hell he was going to gain entrance to whatever the place was that had just taken delivery of the thigh booted couple.

Jim always thought better with a cigarette and as he sat on a packing case he realised he had a lot of thinking to do. Any approach would be suspicious given the fact that this was not an area where things happened at night. Half-baked ideas flittered into his mind only to be rejected as implausible, dumb or just desperate.

"Hey stranger, got a light?"

Jim literally jumped from his impromptu seat. As he looked he saw a woman, waving a long cigarette in his direction. She was easily 6 feet tall, and glancing down he saw the reason, as again the gleam of patent leather boots revealed themselves from beneath a long leather coat. The woman's peroxide blond hair shimmered in the poor street lighting. Her face was heavily made up, dark purple shadow, thick red lipstick and deeply accentuated cheeks gave her a doll like quality.

"A light?" she continued.

"Um oh sure," Jim fumbled for a matchbook and lit the woman's cigarette, "that's a pretty amazing look."

"That's a pretty lame line," teased the woman as she blew a thin stream of smoke towards Jim, " this look is more than the application of cosmetics, it is a mark of who I am."

She turned and walked rapidly towards Madame Verlaine's building.

"Wait I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you," Jim saw an opportunity walking away and his desperation was reflected in his apologetic outburst. It did the trick.

"So you crave forgiveness. Perhaps, I could be persuaded to indulge you. Follow me and by the way, you may address me as Mistress Jennifer ," she said, her back still to Jim.

Jim obeyed and followed several paces behind the statuesque blonde. The loud report of her six-inch heels advertising their approach. Jim was nervous, he didn't really know why, but his back was wet with nervous perspiration in spite of the relatively cool San Francisco evening. He stood a few yards from the door as the woman knocked and exchanged a few words with an unseen door attendant. It was obvious that there was a problem, the mysterious woman began to raise her voice and eventually the door swung open.

A nonchalant wave from the woman ushered Jim inside. The light level was low and Jim looked around the entrance hall edgily. There was no sign of the reluctant door attendant. Though rather gloomy, there was enough light to make out expensive decorations. The walls were hung with heavy velvety coverings, dark mahogany appeared to make up much of the structure of the entrance.

"Well, how do you like Madame V's residence?" Jim was asked by the woman, a delicious half smile on her scarlet lips.

Jim began to think this woman was the mysterious Madame Verlaine and answered accordingly, "Not bad, a bit cliché'd. Needs a man's touch."

That last remark brought him a hard slap across his still smirking face from a now glowering Jennifer. Before he could act two women, clad in shiny halter tops and short leather skirts appeared and grabbed both of his arms.

"You will learn to show more respect, little man or you will experience the true meaning of pain and humiliation, do you understand?"

Jim was shocked, his jibe was designed to elicit a response but not this kind of reaction. He had better play along with this crazy bitch he decided.

"Yes I understand," he said.

Another slap and Jim tried to get free but the two women levered his arms behind his back forcing his torso to lower. His mind spun, the women were too strong and he was starting to regret coming in to this madhouse.

"Yes Mistress Jennifer. You will address each goddess in this establishment as Mistress am I making myself clear?" she spat.

"Yes Mistress Jennifer, I beg your forgiveness," Jim said, the last part of his reply coming out involuntarily. Jim was looking down at his captor's booted feet, the reflection from the lights shimmering on the well-polished patent leather. His thoughts began to drift, he imagined caressing those impossibly long leather-encased legs feeling the rigid cool leather and tracing its pattern to his mistress's upper thighs.

He was shaken out of his dream. "Take him and make him acceptable for his presentation to the Sisterhood," Jennifer ordered.

Jim was escorted by the two woman each wearing ebony halter-tops that shimmered and displayed each woman's full bosom to perfection. It was obvious by the way that there full breasts moved in the material's embrace that it was not leather of any kind Jim was acquainted with. The women's midriff were bare, much like the south sea women Jim had seen and occasionally got closer to while in the Marines during WW2. However, around their navels was a marking, a kind of tattoo a red circle enclosing the navel and a cross descending from the circle again in vivid red. The skirts were shorter than Jim had ever seen. The scarlet contrasted with the ebony halter-top and was obviously leather as it held their curvaceous behinds in a firm embrace. Fishnets framed powerful and athletic looking legs that tapered into jet-black ankle boots that glimmered hypnotically as the women moved.

The trio approached a dark, solid looking wooden door. It dawned on Jim that he did not know what these two women looked like as he was forced to stoop by the firm hold each had taken of his arm and shoulder. He attempted to plug this gap in his knowledge and strained his head to one side to look up at one of his escorts. As his eyes fell on the woman's head he let out a gasp, part surprise and part fear. The woman's head was a shimmering sphere, highly polished black material clung to every part of her head and descended to her throat to be engulfed beneath a shiny metallic collar. A slight bulge revealed her nose and two ovals lined up with her nostrils. Apart from two enlarged ovals for her eyes there was no other break in the hood's surface. Indeed, the area around where Jim realised her mouth would be was more rigid and was obviously built up to hold the wearer in a permanent mute state.

The woman looked at Jim, her eyes betraying no emotion as they sparkled under heavy, colourful lids and thick, obviously false lashes. Jim's penis hardened instantly, its bulge noticeable to both women. Why the hell did these strange creatures turn him on? Parts of Jim's psyche he didn't want to confront was unravelling rapidly as this bizarre night continued and Jim did not like that fact one little bit.

The women threw the door open to reveal a large white tiled room. Quickly Jim was pulled inside and placed on bench. His arms were strapped to two radiating poles and his legs were likewise strapped to similar poles. His body resembled a giant X shape. The room was not cold but Jim felt himself shiver his eyes wide with fear. He had been in dicey situations before, fistfights and even on two occasions he had had to use a gun. He had come through some of hellish moments during the pacific campaign. However, all that was in the normal world with situations, although frightening, that corresponded to rules and behaviour Jim understood. Here, now, as he was circled by two elaborately dressed figures Jim felt both confused and fearful.

The women began to undress him, clothes were cut from his body and rapidly his former garments lay in a shredded pile on the floor. He squirmed, naked before the identically attired, hooded women.

"Please, let me go I promise you won't see me again," Jim pleaded with them. He wasn't lying either; he had no attention of ever coming back here, Mrs Smyth-Carter could go to hell. This job was one Jim Duggan could definitely do without.

His pleas were ignored. The women almost mechanically assembled a collection of items on adjacent wheeled tables and pushed them ominously towards the struggling man. Jim screamed at them, any pretence at macho bravery melting away as his predicament came into focus in his fearful mind. One of the women grasped his head, long black fingernails emerging from smooth red finger-less gloves. For the first time Jim got a whiff of the material making up so much of the women's costume, it was latex. These crazy bitches were wearing latex clothing. He tried to shake his head against her vice like grip to no avail. Silently, the other woman approached him a shiny black item hanging from her red, gloved hand.

Jim's head was lifted slightly and something was slipped over his head. Again the whiff of rubber assailed his nostrils and he glimpsed a small bundle of black latex as it was moved past his eyes and allowed to rest against his throat. Jim felt a band tighten around the base of his skull. Another band was pulled over the top of his head and was attached to the latex item. Jim could see that the band was about a half inch thick and ran along the bridge of his nose before splitting into two narrower bands that flared out as an inverted Y. More tightening of the new band cause a cup shaped latex half mask to cup Jim's lower face with increasing firmness. Eventually, Jim's mouth was clamped firmly shut as the cloying rubber mask fixed itself as a skin tight addition to his lower face.

Jim's protests were now reduced to a meaningless "MMpphh" as the women viewed him with complete dispassion. A thick latex collar was raised to his throat and wrapped around his trembling neck. He realised that the collar would prevent him looking down and, because the collar flared at either side to peak at eight inches at the rear, side to side vision was also robbed from him. A strap at the rear of the collar was tightened and the base of his skull was compressed much as his jaw had been earlier. The front of the collar was then closed and held his throat in a firm though not choking grip.

Things, bad as they were, got worse when Jim saw one of the women grab his still firm member and pull it away from his body. The other brought a 4 inch long curved shiny metal tube and proceeded to feed his penis into the confines of the metal cylinder. The coldness of the device caused his manhood to shrink significantly. The women, obviously aware of the fact, waited several seconds until nature had taken its course and then unseen by Jim began to tighten the grip of the tube. A small key caused the tube to close by a ratchet mechanism. As Jim sensed the growing compression he squirmed in his bonds attempting to kick free from the thick cords binding his limbs. Eventually the tightening ended and Jim realised that his prick was now in its very own shiny metal prison. One of the women slowly and deliberately threaded the key onto a thin silver chain in Jim's plain sight.

Then his legs were released. Unfortunately, his hopes of release were dashed when more strange items were readied at his feet. First briefs were slipped over each foot and pulled up his legs. The sleek black latex rubbed over his legs deliciously as the women eased the garment over his thighs and threaded his now shimmering penis through a small opening. The latex briefs were then pulled up tightly and his buttocks were spread to accommodate a thick latex intruder as it ploughed into his anus. Jim's eyes opened in shock and pain as the dildo slid past his sphincter and lodged itself within his body. Tears of embarrassment ran from his reddened eyes and his body fell back to the bench. He felt the women fit shoes to his feet but such was his submission he did not look to see them carry out their latest task.. Had he looked he would see the women fit shiny ankle boots to his feet. They tugged the boots onto his feet and began to lace the 4 inch heeled boots on. Jim winced as the narrow leather boots crushed his toes.

Finally the women release Jim's arms. Thoughts of escape still crossed his mind and seemingly aware of this his arms are grabbed by one of the women. Jim is forced to his feet and for the first time realises the limitations imposed by his footwear as he totters unsteadily. More "mmpphhing" leaked from his masked mouth as he stares down past the projecting tube to see his feet held in the gleaming boots. A small padlock attached to each ankle strap ensures removal is no longer an option. He feels more latex pulled along his arms forcing them together behind his back. The women quickly lace up the latex arm sheath forcing Jim's forearms together in a painful back-prayer position. Jim feels his wrists touch and then forearms meet as the latex welds his limbs together.

Jim howls in pain as cramps seize his throbbing arms, the mask distorting his cries into a faint mewling. A chain is attached to his collar and he is lead, half stumbling from the room and back along the corridor. This time they take an elevator from the entrance lobby up two floors. The smell of warming latex perfumes the interior of the elevator, mixing with sweat from a frightened male captive. Momentarily the elevator judders to a stop and Jim falls against the wall. Slowly, the doors creak open and Jim peers into the dark expanse beyond the elevator. His heart pounds wildly in his chest and his skin becomes prickly, sensing each trickle of nervous perspiration snaking down his body.

One woman tugs him into the darkness. His eyes adjusting to the gloom pick out tiers of seats occupied by figures. The tiers radiate from a central ornate focus and at the focus is a large and ornate seat. It is unoccupied. Lights flicker on strategically around the hall. Jim and his companions are picked out by the lighting, the tiers of seating remain wrapped in faint twilight.

Suddenly, a spotlight picks out a woman stood adjacent to the throne like chair. She stands haughtily. The word goddess, Jim thought was overused, but in this case was apt. She stood in towering boots that reached up to her crotch area. The deep scarlet shone like coals in the surrounding gloom. A jet black shimmering corset encapsulated her body moulding it to divine dimensions. The corset stretched from her hips to her bust and gave her a dramatic hour glass figure. Steel supports could be seen built into the fabric, expanding as the woman breathed before reasserting her erotic shape. Hands rested on her latex covered hips and again the sheen revealed that shoulder length gloves sheathed the woman's arms.

"Sisters, we are gathered to witness another offering to our Leader's vision of a society ruled by the true superior sex. Below you see, bound, penetrated and cowed, a man. Robbed of his dignity and enslaved much as his vile sex has enslaved our sisters for millennia. This man has the opportunity to be amongst the first of his sex to atone for their crimes," the woman, whom Jim would later recognise as Antoinette, Mistress of the Whip, spoke with an obvious French accent.

Cries of shame and punish him rained down from the darkened ranks above him. Jim wept silently. He was petrified by the prospect that this group, appearing to number hundreds of women, was going to live out their man hating fantasies on him. Part of him urged him to get a grip, to not give way to the fear churning in his insides; he controlled his shivering and stood eyes cast down grimly.

The tirade continued from the throng of women and Jim tried to block it all out. His head was forcibly lifted just as the light level grew significantly. The women were arrayed along tier after tier of seats. Their ranks shimmered in the newly restored light, wave after wave of latex, leather and vinyl burned its erotic presence into Jim's psyche.

"All rise for our gracious leader, goddess Angelique Verlaine, " the invocation rang out from a tall woman clothed from head to toe in shimmering ivory latex - the herald.

Slowly she entered the hall. In absolute, unnatural silence her boots taped out a staccato retort from the marble floor of the hall. Jim didn't want to look, like a child he imagined that if he didn't see the monster he would be OK. The timpani of leather heels got louder, Jim bit hard into his lip. She was approaching him that was clear even through tightly shut eyes. A shadow brushed against his limited awareness. It was her, she was stood inches from him. A gloved hand cupped his chin and slowly raised his sweat soaked head.

"There, there you are frightened. Sisters have you forgotten not to frighten our new playthings! See how he shivers, like a terrified little animal," a rich sultry voice resonated against Jim, as smooth latex enshrouded hands massaged his dampened head, almost in a motherly fashion.

Jim chanced to open his eyes, just a fraction. As tear crusted eyes opened he saw her. Raven hair streaming in ringlets from a pale, porcelain like face. Dark eyes offset by azure eyeshadow and framed by fluttering lashes lanced into his. Scarlet lips, moist and inviting parted and she kissed him gently on his fore-head. His legs gave in and he slumped, only his ever-present attendants kept him from crumpling at her feet.

"Jim Duggan, your previous life has ended, here, today. You belong to me now," her voice was like a song, the words stung like a bullwhip, "Though you may walk again amongst the outer world, the dark violent world of male oppression. You will not be a part of it, your heart, your very soul is anchored here now and only from here, from me will you find succour."

Jim stared mesmerised by her, only dimly aware that she like her sisters wore glimmering latex. Had he glanced from her exquisite face he would see a voluptuous body bedecked in scarlet latex from throat to toe. Her figure constricted by a heavy leather corset and her legs held within red leather thigh boots, cruelly laced from ankle to crotch. He did not see this, however, His thoughts were lost in his goddess' eyes.

"Your investigation of my sisterhood is at an end. You are now a part, admittedly a very lowly part, of that sisterhood. You have embarked upon a process of transformation, one trodden by very few of your sex. But one that I will ensure all men will one day tread. Some of your lowly sex are further along this path," Angelique Verlaine turned, walked towards a raised plinth and gestured.

Jim wrenched his eyes away and traced the line from her face along a gracefully lofted, latex encased arm to where she pointed. Two women, sisters to those that held him, entered the hall dragging a figure behind them. The figure was stumbling as much as walking on 8-inch stiletto heels that formed part of thigh high shiny black boots. The heels themselves contrasted with boots being shiny metallic in colour. Legs were held rigidly straight and the very rigidity of the boots compounded the captives' extreme difficulty in walking.

"Hmm, Philippe you really are not applying yourself. I expected you to have, how I hate this chauvinistic word, mastered this moderate footwear by now. Never mind, you have a visitor who has graciously agreed to join you on this remarkable journey," Madame Verlaine said.

If Philip Smythe-Carter heard any of this he did not respond. Then again, thought Jim, the huge bulbous mask would preclude most sensory input. The rest of his client's husband was similarly covered in restrictive glossy black latex. Briefs, very much like the ones Jim wore, rose into a thick jet black latex blouse. Overlying the blouse was a viciously laced corset, robbing its victim of any semblance of a masculine physique as his waist curved to 20 inches or less. Again, in consort with Jim, a heavy latex single arm binder folded Philip's arms into a painful back prayer shape. Was this Jim's future? Again, a rising tide of fear began to take hold of Jim: he was loosing the battle to retain any semblance of his nerve.

Philip was anchored against a column and a leash was snapped into a dull grey metal ring that projected purposely from the stone column. He hung, trance-like, where he was left by his latex guardians.

"Philippe has been most useful. His, soon to be my, chemical company has developed much of the wondrously sensuous latex that we have taken very much to our hearts. Now Mr Duggan, I believe it is time for you to take centre stage," she gestured to Jim's accompanying escorts who firmly led him towards the raised area where Madame Verlaine stood.

Jim was forced into a kneeling position and a leather band was place around his head, anchoring it to the floor. A thick rubber blindfold restricted his vision. Straps were fastened around both ankles enhancing his developing bondage. His senses ached for clues about what was happening. The pungent smell of the latex overpowered his sense of smell and thus, blind and immobile, he strained his ears to pick up any clue as to his fate.

"Sisters, this man, James Martin Duggan has entered our inner sanctum. He has spied on our temple and he has ventured arrogantly into our world. What would you have me do with him, " Angelique Verlaine shouted to the assembled throng.

Jim gulped hard and attempted to stand. The leather bonds held firm, though a slap from a gloved hand stung his upper back in payment for his temerity. Sweat dribbled down aching limbs and salty tears trickled down his rubber-covered face.

Shouts varied "whip him", "punish him". Then from a number of voices, almost in unison, "convert him, change him". Jim wondered what they meant but as the voices joined as one, he had little doubt that this, whatever this was, had been decreed as his fate.

"Thank you sisters, your wisdom is, as ever, refreshing and your faith in my skills, gratifying. As for you James, oh what joys I have to offer you. In a way you are going to find out everything about this building, its purpose in the most intimate way possible," with that she stroked his head gently whilst a gloved finger toyed with his earlobe, sensuously, menacingly.

The women started to move from their seats towards where Philip Smythe-Carter stood. Jim could hear the sound of countless high-heeled women boots file past him, his current head down position allowed no further sight of his new owners. Suddenly, he was freed from the floor and raised. He felt that he was being lead towards the door he remembered Philip had so recently been lead from. Whatever lay beyond the door signified greater torment and greater humiliation, that was evident from what had happened to Philip.

After traversing several doors, and descending a flight of stairs Jim was laid on a rough mattress. The coarse material scratched his sweat soaked back and legs. He then felt his arms being drawn away from his body and heard the distinctive clicks as snap lock anchored him to the bench's frame. Legs were next and these were held taught and slightly upright, no doubt displaying his rubber clad arse to anyone who cared to look.

Panic erupted as something pungent was brought into contact with his nose. His mouth was still bound in the latex half mask and despite his best efforts Jim was forced to breathe in the vapour filled air. His body felt light and he sped down an imaginary tunnel until sleep took away his fears.


Part 2

It has been almost 36 hours since Juliet had seen Jim Duggan at her plush home. She was concerned that he had not reported back. His phone rang unanswered and so she decided to visit his offices once again. She did not relish driving to that particular neighbourhood, much less running the risk of meeting Jim's odious landlord. But she was desperate for any information.

"Melissa, I am going out. Have Thomas pull the Corvette around to the front of the house," she asked, as she pulled on a short army style jacket.

The journey to Jim's office took almost an hour. Such was Juliet's distraction that she did well escaping an accident, the horns from irate motorists hardly registering with her. She parked directly outside the crumbling tenement where Jim had his offices and quietly entered. She tiptoed past the door she took for the entrance to the landlord's apartment. She made it to the fourth step before Lenny appeared.

"Jim's not in, honey," he said, "not seen him since yesterday... probably drunk on any retainer you gave him."

"Is that so? Well I can see he is lucky having you to mind his business and promote his professionalism so effectively in his absence. I have received a message from Mr Duggan he has left a document for me in his office, he says it is all right if I enter and collect it," she lied.

"Well, I um, don't know," Lenny whined, taken aback by Juliet's icy attitude.

"Come now, you know I am a client, indeed his only recent client. The key," Juliet insisted, outstretching a gloved hand.

With obvious reluctance Lenny plucked an old brass key from his grubby shirt top pocket. He handed it to Juliet.

"Thank you so much," she said acidly. Her eyebrows raised as Lenny began up the stairs to accompany her to the office, "thank you but I would rather retrieve the document alone."

Lenny shrugged and slunk back into his apartment. Juliet went into Jim's offices, the stale air causing her to cough several times. She locked the outer door behind her and set about a painstaking search of Jim's desk looking for anything of relevance. Moving a coffee stained newspaper she saw an upside down magazine. As she worked out the title, her hand recoiled from it in shock. It was a copy of Fantastique, a recent copy. Her hand spun the magazine on the desk, the cover showing a woman pulling on silk stockings. She bit her lip, her ivory teeth depressing expertly painted lip and turned the pages. One page opened and she saw the hateful name "Angelique". Jim had circled a partial address in pencil. Deftly Juliet tore the page from the magazine and slipped it into her purse.

She left quickly, pushing the key under Lenny's door. Juliet ran various courses of action through her head. She knew that the most prudent would be to seek police assistance. But that would mean exposing Philip's unusual sexual proclivities to media scrutiny. That was still a last resort. She would see what was happening at the address given in the magazine article, see what had happened to Jim Duggan and gather some information about the whereabouts of Philip.

The day passed with torpid dullness. Juliet ate little and smoked a lot. The anxious look from Thomas and her other servants went unnoticed as she plotted the forthcoming evening. She reassured herself that this was a mere reconnoitre and as a result she would use darkness.

Juliet's naivete was given eloquent testament by her choice of clothing. Black sweater, dark jeans and a leather jacket. It was a Saturday morning matinee definition of espionage. Juliet's heart beat rapidly, nonetheless, as she slipped out of the house and slowly drove away that evening. Finding the approximate area of Madame Angelique's establishment proved a real pain and it was almost 9:00 p.m. before she entered the correct street. She stopped directly outside the building, more by accident than design, as she stalled the car in shock as a woman dressed in a full leather catsuit and thigh boots walked up to the doors of Angelique's place. Leather laces ran up the side of the woman's torso, the were pulled tight and chrome eyelets were brought into close union. A short waist clincher, picked out in silver over black gave the buxom woman a stupendous hourglass figure and the heavy neck collar forced a haughty, almost regal, posture on the leather clad beauty.

Thankfully, the woman did not look in Julie's direction and entered the establishment after a brief exchange with an unseen person at the door. The sight of such a woman, wantonly displaying her disregard for convention, scared Juliet. Whatever lay within the building, which seemed to grow more menacing as she stared at it, was too much for her to handle. Yet what had she exactly established. That strangely dressed people were entering a building in the warehouse district. She would be laughed out of every station house from San Francisco to LA.

"Damn it! I will have to get inside that stinking place," she said through gritted teeth, "but how, the place has a doorman?"

Ten minutes passed as she drained the car's radiator, picking up a blister for her efforts. She started the car up and did a circuit of the block until white billows started seeping from beneath the hood. She parked, again outside the building and lifted the hood to allow the steam to clear. Perfect she thought, as she surveyed a reasonable representation of a burst radiator. She grabbed her jacket and walked towards the entrance.

Juliet's heart was in her mouth and her stomach turned summersaults as she began up the small flight of stone steps that led to the main door. Her palms felt wet with tension. She would have sworn that time was running in slow motion. The split second her finger moved towards the bell seemed to take an aeon.

There she had pressed it. No going back now. No, she had time, she could hide. Shut up! She battled several contrary demons in her own head waiting for the doorman. Boy was she surprised when a narrow slot in the door opened and piercing green, but exquisitely feminine eyes, looked back at her.

Juliet waited until the silence forced her to speak first. "Hello, I'm sorry to bother you but, um, I think my car's radiator has punctured. Could I use your telephone to call for assistance?"

The eyes remained emotionless, looking her up and down, almost predatorily. Juliet jumped visibly when without warning the slot was shut. Juliet wondered what to do next. Had she been more forceful she would have beaten on the door. She waited more in hope than expectation that her ruse would pay off. The protracted mechanical sounds caused her to step back. The door opened slowly. Juliet expected it to creak ominously, it didn't. The fact that no one stepped out to great her did spook her though. Should she take the initiative and go in? She decided to do just that.

The hallway was dimly lit. She looked this way and that looking for the doorwoman to no avail. Juliet moved a little further into the building searching for a door or some way of receiving the help she claimed she needed. She scarcely heard the door click shut behind her or the elaborate and very bulky mechanism that descended behind the door in near silence.

A side door opened and a woman emerged. Juliet gulped, audibly. The woman wore another derivation of the apparent house theme, tight, shiny and extremely erotic. The power bestowed on the Amazonian woman by the six-inch boots was undeniable, as was the armour like latex that moulded her thighs and rear into a delightfully streamlined statement of womanhood. Her torso shimmered as if it was liquid and Juliet realised that the woman was wearing a heavy latex corset overlaying an ebony latex blouse. The creaking sound told of every breath being a battle of flesh against steel reinforced latex. The woman was stunning Juliet could not deny the fact, and perhaps she was also a little terrifying.

"Can I help you?" came the question, delivered in a resonant and deep English accent.

"Y..yes I, well I, um mean my car has broken down outside your, erm, establishment and I was wondering if I could use your telephone to call for assistance?" replied Juliet, the lump in her throat threatening to make her seem a little simple minded.

"But of course my dear, the warehouse district is no place for a woman after dark," said the latex encased woman, reaching out a gloved hand she placed it softly on Juliet's shoulder, "come this way."

"Oh sorry, my name is Ju.. I mean Jamie, Jamie Stevens," stammered Juliet, angry that she had nearly blown the entire caper.

"You don't seem very sure Jamie. Perhaps it is the shock of your car breaking down and finding yourself amongst perverts such as myself. I am Mistress Elizabeth," smiled the woman, her latex clad hand squeezed Juliet's shoulder slightly.

"Yes. Oh but I don't think that you are perverts. I must admit though that your clothing is strange and looks very uncomfortable," replied Juliet.

"You'd be surprised how easy it is to become accustomed to this form of clothing my dear. The feel of skin-tight latex charges every cell of the body, it feels almost electrical. You feel protected from the world. Whilst the way the latex, the corsetry and boots mould and transform one's body has a hypnotic effect on those that behold you. It is a wonderful feeling to know that feminine sexuality can become a devastatingly effective weapon against male arrogance and violence," lectured Elizabeth.

"You make it sound like men are the enemy, something to be destroyed," argued Juliet.

"No, my sweet, not destroyed just dominated and controlled. For example, you yourself could have experienced male violence firsthand. Why? Merely because your car broke down in a desolate part of the city. Does that make you fair game for every beast out there?" Elizabeth asked angrily.

"Yes, I can see that you have a fair point. I mean that the streets should be safe for everyone to walk on. But enslaving men, just for the actions of a few monsters..?"

"I, and many of my sisters, would argue that there are many more than a few monsters lurking amongst their ranks. Not content with unleashing a world war, the posturing of the two male dominated power blocks decided to bring destruction to Korea less than a decade ago. They have had their chances Jamie," said Elizabeth.

The two women rounded a corner into a small room that looked like an office. Beautiful and erotic pictures decorated the walls. Everywhere, beautiful women, elaborately made up were shown being encased in latex, leather and occasionally vinyl clothing. Nervous fingers began to dial her home telephone number. She prayed that Thomas would answer. He did.

"Hello, Thomas I have broken down. Yes I am in the Corvette. Wait its...,"Juliet looked to Elizabeth who quickly scribbled the address on a scrap of paper, "413 East Street. The warehouse district. I know, it's a long story. Please hurry," Juliet put the receiver down, "thank you. Thomas one of my employees will pick me up. May I wait here?"

"Of course. You are intrigued by our lifestyle aren't you Jamie. Would you like an introduction to the joys of fetishistic clothing?" asked Elizabeth.

"No I don't want to inconvenience you any further. I am not really interested," replied Juliet, aware that the heady aroma of rubber and the bizarre imagery all a round her was becoming intoxicating. But she had to remember why she was here. To get information. Besides what harm could it do?

"I insist, my dear. Come along I will soon have you rubberised," Elizabeth said and grabbed a far from disappointed Juliet.

They left the office, Elizabeth locking the door behind them. She opened a heavy double door and ushered Juliet through. They entered a large main corridor with numerous rooms along its length and a huge and ornate door at the opposite end. Elizabeth went into a room and called for Juliet to follow.

Inside the room was a mass of erotic clothing hung from the walls and crammed into cupboards and chests. The air was heavy, laden with the sweet smell of latex and the delicate perfume of leather. Full length catsuits in many colours but predominately black hung invitingly. Dresses, skirts, blouses were all displayed before her, all shimmering and highly polished.

"This is one of our store rooms. I think it offers us a reasonable choice for your first rubber experience," said Elizabeth, "you can start by removing your current garments."

Robot-like Juliet complied with the instructions. She took of her jacket and placed it on a spare hanger. Her sweater was next, followed by her shoes and finally her jeans. She stood nervously in front of Elizabeth, her arms across her chest.

"All of your clothing Jamie," ordered Elizabeth.

Juliet meekly complied. Slowly her hands slid down the side of her panties and prised them from her ivory skin. As the white cotton withdrew, Elizabeth saw the dark mound beneath revealing if any proof were needed that Juliet was not a natural blond. Her full mound looked succulent and inviting. It was a fruit that Elizabeth wanted to gorge on, but that time would come. Once she was part of the sisterhood. It angered that this sacred orifice would be corrupted by a male, that Jamie would be penetrated and used by a man. As the panties slid to the floor, Juliet unclipped her bra and allowed it too to fall to the floor. Her breasts were round and firm, capped with erect nipples. Elizabeth cupped one of the orbs in her latex gloved hand. The feeling of cool latex against her breast caused Juliet to gasp. Her eyes dilated slightly and she gazed at Elizabeth, wantonly. Elizabeth rubbed Juliet's nipple. The hard nodule of pleasure flushed with blood as smooth latex fingers tweaked and squeezed it.

"My you have such wonderfully sensitive breasts Jamie," cooed Elizabeth softly.

Juliet was confused. Here she was, naked and in the clutches of a dominant latex covered seductress while somewhere within this very building her husband was at the mercy of this strange sect.

Elizabeth handed Juliet a latex bra and a pair of black rubber panties. Juliet looked at the slippery garments quizzically. The bra resembled an old-fashioned long line ensemble. It had reinforced cups and thick adjustable straps. The brilliant fastenings contrasted starkly with the raven latex. Elizabeth hurriedly powdered Juliet's naked body and eased the bra over her head. The smooth cool latex slid into place and Juliet felt her breasts fall into the inviting cups. The reinforcing in the bra forced her bosom into a sensuous cleavage and all the time the delicious pressure exerted by the latex massaged her super sensitive flesh.

"Well my dear, how does your acquaintance with latex feel?" asked a smiling Elizabeth.

"I never thought it would feel like this. The rubber is so tight, it feels like my breasts are being gently caressed. I, well I feel powerful. Its hard to explain," Juliet felt a whirl of emotion and again the real reason for her being there slipped from her immediate consciousness.

The latex panties were next. Juliet saw the small nodules inside and realised that they would soon be in close proximity with her most sensitive flesh. She stepped into the panties, revelling in their soft touch. Slowly, with serpentine grace, she allowed Elizabeth to slide them up her legs. Oh God, she cried to her self. She had no idea that simply dressing could be so sensual. Then, with a tug, Elizabeth eased them into place. The tight latex cosseted her bottom, lifting and holding the hemispheres in a passionate embrace. But oh the volcanic heat that built in her cocooned sex. The nodules, teased and rubbed her in unimaginable ways, she massaged the thin latex cupping her swollen flesh and needing it with animalistic passion. Violently she came, magma burst from it fragile dam and Juliet's legs buckled. Had not strong gloved hands caught her she would have collapsed in sexual bliss there and then.

"I think we can assume that you like the feel of latex, Jamie," whispered Elizabeth seductively into Juliet's ear and nibbling the lobe playfully, "but really this is only an introduction. There is much, much more ... should you join us."

Juliet wiped the thin sliver of drool on her face and tried to regain control. Her mind felt stuffed with cotton wool. Think she told herself. By joining them she would have free run of the building. She could find Philip and get him out of their clutches. Elizabeth handed Juliet her clothes and she quickly slipped the pullover and jeans over her new underwear. Quickly she was dressed and being escorted back towards the door.

"Well my dear, what about my offer? Will you join us, I am willing to act as your sponsor," Elizabeth said, almost pleading with Juliet.

"Y... yes. What do I have to do?" Juliet asked nervously.

"Excellent. You have to be baptised by Madame Angelique and accepted by the sisterhood. I will make the arrangements. You will come here in two days, at 8:00 p.m.," Elizabeth kissed Juliet gently on her forehead and began to open the door. The locking mechanism raised with the faintest hiss of hydraulics into a dark receptacle carved into the ceiling. She eased the door open and a blast of cold air caused goosebumps to form on Juliet's skin. She turned and waved to Elizabeth.

"Remember two days. Until then take care sister," called Elizabeth.

The door closed behind her and Juliet sighed. She had done it, she was in their trust and was on the verge of rescuing Philip. Her strange behaviour with Elizabeth was excised from her mind, an aberration of no consequence. Thomas was waiting across the street, the engine of the station wagon still running. If he thought Juliet's behaviour strange he did not say, nor did he question her when she took the canister of water from the trunk and re-filled the Corvette's empty radiator. Juliet started the engine and followed Thomas back to her home. Her flushed face, a testament to the continual arousal emanating from the tight latex panties and devilish inner nodules.


Part 3

Awareness came back with aching slowness. The sensation of touch returned first, the ache in his limbs a salient reminder of his continuing bondage. He tasted latex, a thick plug crammed into his mouth made him feel sick and added to the information flooding into his nose. He opened his eyes to blackness, not just darkness but absolute gloom. He was blindfolded. He strained his ears for any stimuli that told him he was not alone, locked in the perpetual dark.

"Ah, I see you are awake, " came a soft voice from out of the blackness, "we can begin with our fun."

Jim was worried, he had no idea where he was or what was about to happen. He knew that he was strapped to something but he was no longer on the mattress. His arms were bound, but now they were at right angles to his torso. They were embedded in thick latex gloves that were then attached via O rings to a tubular framework. His legs were similarly bound in calf length latex that terminated in thick metal O rings. These were attached to the framework. Jim's body was held drum tight.

Antoinette prowled the room hungrily. She had snared her victim in latex and steel and was like the proverbial black widow about to devour him. However, Antoinette feasted not on flesh but spirit. She would rip out every shred of his manhood. A novice, Sarah, watched in fascination as her sponsoring mistress began her seduction. The creak of leather and squeak of latex on latex provided an erotic overture to Antoinette's movement. A five fingered leather whip twirled in her hand and she allowed it to fall lightly on Jim's body and raking the rough leather across his bare chest. Jim twitched in his bonds; he knew what was imminent.

"You see Sarah my dear, the art of training a man is the fear of the unknown. The expectation of pain is often far more effective than pain itself," recited Antoinette in a school mistresses attention to detail. She struck Jim across his chest.

The pain was intense, sharp and covered a wide swathe of his chest. Jim was truly scared of this woman. He tensed for another blow. The shock of a hot breath against his ear took him by surprise.

"Was that nice? I will teach you to truly enjoy the kiss of the whip, little man. What fun we shall have with you!" snarled Antoinette. Another blow landed on him, the whip wrapping around Jim's thigh and clipping the tender flesh savagely.

Antoinette was oblivious to her surroundings. She was an artist and the reddening canvas before her was alive with possibilities. She would shape Jim, his mind, his body but most of all his soul. With remarkable conservation of effort, she directed the whip with pinpoint accuracy. Each tender spot of Jim's largely naked body received attention.

Another whisper, "The priests of Cybele would castrate themselves in her honour. Would you do that for your goddess I wonder." Jim tensed as Antoinette's smooth latex encased hand grasped his steel constricted penis.

As soon as the whipping had begun it ended. The tear sodden rubber blindfold was slipped from his eyes. He blinked rapidly in the bright light. Antoinette stood over him, waiting for his eyes to focus on her. She would be the first face he saw. Her face was beautiful. Her brown eyes accentuated by long black lashes and grey shadow. Her prominent, high cheeks were darkly accentuated with deep brown-red coloration. Her mouth, scarlet and inviting held an aristocratic sneer of contempt. Masses of black curls framed this vision of a face.

"Your treatment with myself," she glanced at an excited younger woman, " and perhaps Mistress Sarah will continue for some time. I sense much resistance within you, of course this will be crushed. It is merely an annoyance."

Jim felt his bonds being unfastened and slowly he was free. Thoughts of escape flickered into his mind but these were dismissed. Like it or not Jim Duggan was changing. He was escorted from the room, his blindfold reattached and marched for a period. He heard the sound of another door being opened, the reverberation hinted that this room was much larger that the previous place.

His blindfold was again torn free by Antoinette. The room was foreboding, very bright and tiled in clinical white tiles. Gurneys and examination tables added to Jim's unease. Sarah had accompanied them to this new room and was busily assembling a mass of dark, slithering material on a table. Two masked women stood at the door, eyeing Jim with an indifferent though attentive air. Antoinette stood with her back to Jim. An erotic vision, shimmering in tight latex and leather. A skin-tight catsuit clung to her well developed though feminine frame, its high collar merging with pre-Raphaelite curls that snake like some latter-day Medusa down her back. A narrow, though tightly cinched waist clincher in red leather contrasted with the latex and pulled her midriff into a desirable 18 inches. Jim couldn't help himself lusting after this beautiful woman. However, when she turned clutching a hypodermic, his ardour nose-dived.

"This is a hormonal cocktail, dear, it contains lots of wonderful things that will make all the nasty aggressive male in you simply melt away. How exciting!" gushed Antoinette, her play act making Jim feel that much more fearful.

She swabbed his arm and plunged the needle into his thigh, "Welcome to the sisterhood. I think you will grow to thank me for this and besides the breasts this will cause to develop will fill out the maids uniform delightfully."

The revelation shocked Jim to his core. The masked women were in fact males, males like him: captured, rubberised and forcibly feminised. He looked at the two busty latex covered maids stood near the door. They returned his gaze, dark heavily made up eyes and flickering lashes burned into his. Nowhere did Jim see anything passably male that had long gone purged by chemicals and the whip. He shivered uncontrollably, he wanted to die. He prayed for of release, sobbing silently to himself as harsh, feminine laughter cascaded from white tiled walls.

Sarah, an evil grin on her young scarlet lips began his entombment in latex. Long black latex tights were ceremoniously unfurled before Jim's tear streaked face. The long shimmering garment caught the light of the chamber brilliantly. With long deliberate steps Sarah approached her captive victim. His legs were deftly released from shackles and the smooth ebony latex was steered over Jim's feet. It engulfed the foot in a chilly, smooth tide of skin-tight material and slowly the material was rolled up Jim's legs, his calves stood out prominently and looked alien in the embrace of the material.

"This is so sensuous Madame Antoinette. Look how rough masculine flesh becomes soft, yielding and feminine when encased in latex," gasped Sarah breathlessly, as Antoinette looked on a cigarette held in a long holder between her scarlet lips.

Jim looked, wild eyed as this twenty year old woman pulled the tight latex to waist height. The latex around his ensnared penis was extremely tight and thickened markedly. Looking down as far as his bonds allowed Jim saw that his legs were know glossy and black. His cock, his balls were hidden pushed flat against his body by heavy padding that resembled a women's mound. He was a thing, ready to be remade in his new mistresses' image. He knew this and he knew he had no choice in the matter. Another gaze to the two maids, still standing at either side of the door, took him into his own pitiful future.

His legs were re bound to the holding frame. Sarah tuned to the trolley and spun round, a devilish grin playing on her lips, with a huge latex and steel corset in her hands. The heavy boning was visible all along the inner surface of the black monstrosity. Laces sprang from brilliant chrome eyelets that ran the entire length of the corset. Delicate red latex side panels were autonomously laced and would virtually eliminate Jim's male waistline.

"A taste of the future. But first we must continue with your full rubberisation my sweet, " teased Sarah. She gently placed the corset to one side and picked up a severe looking full blouse in the same ubiquitous glossy black latex.

"Is that the high necked blouse Sarah?" asked Antoinette pointedly.

"Yes Madame. It has built in gloves and will attach to a suitable mask creating a seamless union at the throat and base of the skull," replied Sarah politely.

Jim's arms were threaded through the tight fitting sleeves. The inside of the suit felt slippery and he guessed it had been pre-lubricated. Eventually Jim's hands burst through the thick moulded wristbands and into the gloves that were part of the garment. His fingers splayed out into thin latex receptacles and settled into the tight embrace. The blouse was hoisted over his head. Jim tried to pull his head away and was slapped across the face for his efforts by a glowering Sarah. The latex obscured his vision momentarily until his head slipped through the neck opening. The latex was incredibly tight, its constant pressure an ever-present reminder of his new role in life. Jim looked down, he could see that the blouse really did come up to just beneath his chin, his chest still thankfully flat and male heaved in its ebony cocoon. Without release Jim knew that it was only a matter of time before another, entirely feminine sight would greet his downward glance. The twin maids staring at him avidly were testament to that.

Sarah attached his latex arms to two overhead pulleys and rapidly turned a lever. Jim quickly felt the result as he was stretched severely, his black rubberised body locked rigid. Sarah held the corset against him. She had lied, she was going to put that monstrous thing on him now. Through the latex covering his body Jim felt the boning of the corset, he knew that the boning ran the entire length of the corset and would crush his waist impossibly. The heavy gauge was quickly wrapped around him. Sarah struggled to close up the busk front, eventually smiling in triumph as the final chrome clasp closed with a slight "snick". She disappeared from sight and Jim looked over at Antoinette. She met his gaze with her own, one of triumphant arrogance as she witnessed his entry into her ranks of rubberised pseudo-women.

Suddenly Jim gasped for air, his body writhed as a motor began to whine behind him. In quick succession his body was crushed from buttock to the middle of his back. Sarah had attached the laces of the corset to the lacing machine and set the diabolical device in motion. Quickly laces were pulled tight until chrome eyelet nuzzled chrome eyelet along the entire length of Jim's back. Jim thought he would die. He struggled for breath, fighting to expand his chest against the relentless inward pressure of the steel boning.

"You stupid man. Shift your breathing into your upper chest, slow shallow breaths," called Antoinette as she shook her head disdainfully. Jim complied and found that he could make some slight headway against the compressing latex and force a little precious air into his lungs before the corset snapped him back into his erotically feminine hourglass silhouette.

They had reduced him to a rubber effigy of femininity. His very existence, a calculated exercise in latex bondage: movement and even breathing a struggle against the eternal compression of steel and latex. They had not finished however, and Jim felt his legs being lifted. One of the maids minced towards a knelt Sarah carrying a pair of boots. They were shimmering from the overhead light. Jim looked at them anxiously. They flopped loosely in the maid's hands and Jim realised that the boots were latex and not leather, front lacing and knee length. As the maid passed the boots to Sarah in readiness for fitting Jim saw the heels they were at least six inches and the boots appeared to be too small for him.

Roughly Sarah placed the right boot onto his leg slipping his angled foot into the tight latex. It would not go on, he had been right the boot was too small. Sarah cursed and looked over at the maid acidly. The pitiful creature fell to his knees and through a latex congested mouth gurgled for forgiveness. Jim wanted to wretch, these creatures were no longer truly human he thought. They were merely chattels, permanently enclosed in latex, their bodies remade into parodies of male fantasy objects.

"It appears that Beta 11 has made a mistake. She will pay for that later. However, you will pay for the mistake for ever. Maids those boots will be on Gamma 12's feet or I will take you to hell and back. Am I clear?" spat an angry Sarah.

Quickly the two maids scrambled to Jim's feet and began to lever his latex encased leg into the boots. They pulled the skin-tight rubber and added more silicon lubricant inside the boot. Slowly Jim felt his foot slide into the embrace of the thick rubber boot until a sudden squelch of lubricated rubber signalled that his foot was now firmly inside the right boot. His foot ached instantly, his toes were compressed together by the merciless compression of the thick latex. The other boot went on with similar effort from the panic-stricken maids and soon booth feet throbbed painfully. The maids began to lace the devilish boots up and inserted two padlocks into a ankle strap permanently securing the stiletto heeled boots to Jim's legs.

"Not much left now. Just something to take away that masculine face, oh but I forgot we need to remove all your hair. The latex will feel much better on cleanly shaven skin," Sarah said as she began to hack almost maniacally at Jim's hair.

One of the maids approached, latex crackling as glossy thigh moved against thigh. It was hard to believe that these erotic creature were once men, were once in possession of freewill. A foaming container was proffered in mute servitude and Sarah began to work the thick creamy lather into what remained of Jim's hair. A razor was produced and Jim felt its metallic coldness scraped away the remaining stubble. The surplus lather was rubbed away and a small feminine vanity mirror was placed in front of Jim's face. He looked into the pink edged glass and saw his denuded head. A tear ran from dimmed eyes only to be plucked away by Sarah's glossy latex glove.

"There, there, save your tears precious. You'll need them in abundance later. Now where were we with your rubberisation?" Sarah asked, " ah yes a mask. What a beautiful one I have for you. Look!"

Jim glanced up and saw a mass of black latex writhing as if alive in Sarah's hands. A full-face mask was stretched out menacingly just in front of Jim's reddened face. He looked at Sarah, his eyes flickered and pleaded with her. He spluttered and "mummphed" for mercy, his mouth ratcheted open with a large ball gag could emit very little else in the way of meaningful sound. Sarah smiled wickedly and rubbed the soft latex against his face, his smooth head. The smell was overpowering, frightening. Jim closed his eyes momentarily and suddenly the mask was over his head. The clinging latex engulfed him, acrid odours flooded into his flaring nostrils. He opened his eyes into abject blackness. Slowly the latex was pulled down, he felt it dribble over his nose and against his open mouth. Light returned gradually, lenses settled over his eyes but these were cloudy and thick. The outside world took on a distorted greyish tint. Jim felt something being run around his throat and the base of his skull. Sarah had vulcanised the latex hood to the high collar of the blouse creating a seamless union. Every inch of Jim was enveloped in skin-tight black rubber. Finally two wrist to thigh cuffs were produced and his arms were secured by his side. A small badge - the number 12 - was positioned on Jim's forehead as a final, ritualistic signal of metamorphosis from human being to latex doll.

"There, fully encapsulated. I bet you feel nice and secure in there don't you, Gamma 12?" Sarah said, her face pressed up to Jim's staring into the lenses of Jim's hood.

"Maids, take your new sister to her cell," barked Antoinette, " secure her for the night."


Part 4

Juliet had had trouble sleeping after her encounter with Mistress Elizabeth. She had retained her latex underwear and had masturbated frantically. Her hands revelling in the sensuous touch of latex clothing her most intimate parts. She had drifted into a deep sleep and woke, spent and drenched in sweat. The sun high in the sky and the sounds of her servants echoed through the large house.

She threw the covers back and was momentarily surprised to see the tight bra cupping her ivory breasts. The events of the previous night flooded back. Crimson flooded along Juliet's throat and cheeks as her encounter with Elizabeth came into focus. Her tongue slipped between parched lips and wetted the slightly and for an instant a smile played on those moist lips. She shook her head, she had to remember why she was getting involved with the sisterhood: to rescue her enslaved husband.

Juliet bounded from her bead and entered the en-suite bathroom. The warm jets of water massaged her taught muscles, symbolically erasing the erotic odour left by the now discarded latex clothes. She had about 36 hours to formulate a plan. Her mind screamed at her to go to the police, only for images of scandal, of banner headlines proclaiming her husbands depraved lifestyle to vanquish her natural caution. No, she resolved this matter had to be kept quiet.

Juliet spent the remainder of the day around her house, an endless cycle of cigarettes and coffee fuelled her moody introspection. Anxious glances by Thomas were returned and a weak smile tried to assure him that she was OK. A rough plan came into being, one that demanded a substantial amount of luck. Around midday Juliet's mind began to wander as she began to fantasise about her baptism. Strange, and for Juliet, bizarre images filled her mind. Many were drawn from the erotic photographs and sketches that adorned the walls of the Sisterhood's residence. She fought against the need to obtain relief from the ever-present images, her flushed face had the servants chattering idly about madam looking poorly.

A long, tedious afternoon gave way to golden sunset as Juliet sat on her veranda, She sipped a glass of red wine and watched as the bay area came to life. Streetlights flickered to life and San Francisco shimmered in the late summer evening. Thomas had insisted she had eaten and the remains of a chicken salad lay on the table in front of her. She poured another glass of wine, lit her umpteenth cigarette and waited for the stars to come out.

She awoke in her bed. Thomas, ever loyal, had ensured she had been put to bed after the wine had taken effect. It was dark, the red luminous glow from her bedside alarm revealed that it was 4:20am. Her mouth was dry and her head swam with the after effects of almost a full bottle of wine. She needed the bathroom and slowly she rose from her bed. One thing occupied her thoughts: the Sisterhood. She shivered noticeably as her eyes squinted in the harsh lighting of the bathroom.

Again Juliet wondered about the baptism, about her plan and about the real changes being wrought to her libido. The Sisterhood was like a poison, she knew that her encounter with Elisabeth had infected her with a new, depraved nature. She hoped that once reunited with Philip that this strange, frightening need germinating within her would not consume her life. As she returned to her bed she opened a small bedside cabinet and withdrew the soiled black latex bra and panties. Her own musk mingled with the smell of the latex. She pressed the panties to her face, the cool latex excited a gasp from her mouth. Her tongue licked a path along the crotch piece, she fantasised that Elizabeth and not her own fist filled the smooth rubber. Her tongue slick with saliva practised fellatio on the warming latex. Suddenly she realised what she was doing, she stared at the pearls of drool coating the black rubber. Revulsion set in, the panties were tossed into the corner and Juliet sobbed to her self.

"What was happening to me," she whispered repeatedly as her mind fought for some comprehension of her recent behaviour.

Sunlight lancing through slightly open curtains awoke her. She had cried herself back to sleep. It was late, she knew that from the light level and the heat building in her south easterly facing bed room. A glance told her how late.

"Damn, 10:40. Why didn't Thomas wake me, " she said as she threw back the sheets. She eyed the crumpled latex nervously as she passed it lying where she had tossed it hours earlier. She grabbed the panties and stuffed them back into the cabinet, guiltily.

A quick shower later Juliet emerged on to the landing. She wore a pair of slacks and an expensive angora sweater. Melissa wished her good morning as they passed on the stairs and Juliet headed for the kitchen. The rich aroma of Colombian coffee filled the large wood panelled Kitchen. Juliet poured a cup and grabbed some cookies from a jar on the work top. Despite last night's aberration Juliet felt relaxed. The fateful day had arrived and waiting was over. Just 8 hours to kill before she would make her way back to the Sisterhood. It was Thomas's day off and so didn't get the chance to thank him for seeing her to bed that evening

Across the city things were much less pleasant for Jim. He had spent the night strapped to a latex mattress. Still cruelly bound in latex and his waist cinched in the heavy rubber corset. He had managed to catnap his way through an uncomfortable night. His mind hovering in a semiconscious haze. Until the sun had filtered through the room's single high window he still clung to the remote hope that indeed he was dreaming and the nightmare would eventually end.

Two maids entered and with practised ease removed all of Jim's binding straps. He was helped to his feet, still held in skin-tight stiletto boots. Pain shot through his legs as his feet bore the weight and toes were mercilessly ground together by the narrow feminine footwear. Jim realised that he had not eaten for over 36 hours and his only drink had been before they had laced him into his current outfit. As if sensing Jim's basic needs one of the maids turned and looked at Jim. Through his cloudy lenses Jim saw the maid's richly made up eyes and extremely long lashes flutter as the maid gestured that "she" was going to feed him. Jim felt the maid's latex enclosed fingers adjusting something at the front of his mask. A small flap was peeled back to reveal a chrome valve about half an inch in diameter. Jim saw the maid raise a thick syringe towards his face and bucked. The other maid held his shoulders and forced Jim back onto the mattress. The syringe was mated with the chrome valve . Then, slowly the first maid depressed the plunger. Suddenly Jim sensed something viscous at the back of his throat, he felt as though he was choking. The maid stopped and mimed that Jim was to swallow the substance. He complied and felt that he could manage to force the food down. After several minutes he felt the syringe being removed.

Another syringe was shown to Jim. The maid tipping it to and fro to show Jim that it contained a liquid. This too was introduced into the chrome valve and a jet of liquid hit the back of Jim's throat. After the initial shock Jim managed to swallow the liquid with relative ease.

Jim was laid back on the mattress. He looked at the first maid nervously. Why, he didn't know he felt some affinity with this person. He did not know at the time but this was just what the Sisterhood wanted. Maids were paired from creation and Beta 6 had been selected for Jim by Antoinette. Beta 6 moved with languid movements towards Jim and began to fumble at Jim's crotch. Terror gripped Jim and he tried to sit up, his arms straining in the wrist to thigh cuffs he still wore. He tried to shout, to kick away this violation. The sense that a zip was being drawn down made Jim redouble his efforts and look up into the face of the second maid. Impassive, emotionless eyes under heavy femininely shadowed lids stared back. His metal encased penis was extracted from the latex tomb it had occupied since Jim's ordeal began. Jim began screaming inside his mask, the re-inflated gag reducing this to inconspicuous guttural mewling. Jim then experienced a sharp pain in his penis as a catheter was fitted. Apologetically, the maid gently stroked his throbbing, but impotent appendage. The smooth latex felt silken against the sensitive flesh. Again his eyes met those of the maid and another bond was forged.

Suddenly Jim felt the unbearable urge to urinate. The maids watched as the tube snaking from his crotch suddenly filled and Jim's waste slowly emptied into an adjacent container. His debasement was complete, even his most base bodily functions were controlled, publicised for the onlooker. Finally, the first maid inserted a hypodermic into Jim's thigh and pumped more hormones into his body. As if to demonstrate what had been done the maid cupped the latex encased milky white breasts suggestively and held them against Jim's still flat chest.

Jim was helped to his feet and escorted from his cell. The maids helped him up stone stairs towards the main part of the building. He was lead into the arena, an involuntary shudder ran up his spine as he saw the intimidating room in full lighting. Rows of seats formed a semicircular bank at the front of the hall focussing on a raised dais where several ornate seats were placed. The recessed arena was being prepared for some form of ceremony. Maids attired in two different types of latex costumes busied themselves laying luscious red carpeting. An altar was also being set up, carvings of beings were etched into the marble, but the deities were not Christian nor were they male.

Jim was lead to an anteroom and he was bound to a pole set into the roof. The room was windowless and a low wattage bulb set above the door supplied the only light. Jim's last image was Beta 6 as she, Jim was starting to think of the maids as women, turned of the light and closed the door. In the darkness and encased in the restrictive latex Jim's mind searched for a reason for all this, a meaning to all the senseless acts he had endured over the last few days. He had a few pieces of a large jigsaw. The organisation was obviously matriarchal, violently and absolutely anti men, male rule and modern society. They had obviously captured several men but Jim really did not know how many maids were housed in the building though he guessed at least a dozen. He had seen two distinct types of maids: the Betas who were dressed in distinctly feminine albeit latex clothing and another group dressed in catsuits, heavy long line corsets and thigh boots that actually ran up and under the confines of the corsets. Jim guessed that because of their restriction that these were a lower grade of maid, perhaps Gamma. He knew enough to realise that Alpha headed the Greek alphabet and he definitely hadn't seen any maids that could reconcile to this grade.

Weather through fear, exhaustion or a combination of both Jim feel asleep still tied to the wooden pole. Activity outside the room occasionally woke him, but he dozed back to sleep after each interruption.

Juliet left her home around 6:00pm. She felt foolish sneaking from her own home, but she did not want her staff gossiping about her comings and goings. The continued absence of Phillip was cause enough for them to chatter and for Juliet to feel that she was being discussed by all and sundry. Juliet used the natural slope of the drive to free wheel the car away from the house and only engaged the engine when under cover of high shrubs that lined the driveway.

An hour later Juliet was entering the rundown warehouse lined streets that lead to the Sisterhood's building. The fading light made the down at heel district look all the more menacing. She was surprised that she remembered the way almost perfectly, only taking one wrong turn amongst all the virtually identical streets and buildings. She pulled up directly in front of the building and eyed the heavy wooden door nervously. There was no prospect of her turning tail and running, she knew that but nevertheless she had to light a cigarette to calm her nerves. She glanced at her watch and cursed herself for setting off so early. The wait was getting to her and she was about to drive around the area just for something to do when she saw shimmering figures start to emerge from the dusk. The fact that the women all came from one direction indicated that they were leaving their cars in one particular area. Juliet knew that parking where she was would look strange, but she also knew that she wanted the comfort that her car was just outside those formidable doors when she made her move.

As the women got closer the loud retort of their thigh high boots and the rustle of leather, vinyl and latex coats. The vision of around two dozen women arrayed in some of the most erotic outfits Juliet had ever seen was breathtaking. The accentuated way the boots and tight skirts made the women walk spoke of raw sexuality, of power and of women who were definitely in charge. Had they not kidnapped her husband, Juliet would have grudgingly admired these women. However, they were the enemy and she forbade herself any admiration.

She allowed the women to enter, noting with a despair the door ritual and the sheer physical presence of the heavy solid door. She also remembered the internal locking mechanism. Tentatively Juliet got out of her car and locked the door. She toyed with the idea of leaving the car unlocked, but a quick glance around the locale convinced her. She walked, with mock purposefulness, to the door and rapped on the heavy wood. Although she expected the viewing slot to open it still made her jump. Again the same piercing eyed women stared at her in absolute silence.

"Hi," said Juliet trying to exude confidence, "Madame Elisabeth is expecting me. I am Jamie Stevens."

After several seconds the slot closed with a metallic clank and other sounds reverberated from the door. Then the door opened slowly and Juliet walked inside, again she searched for the strange silent women who had given her entry. Her search was cut short by the recognisable voice of Elisabeth.

"Jamie, darling I am so glad you had the courage to attend," Elisabeth moved towards Juliet with fluid cat like grace. She raised her shimmering gloved hands to cup Juliet's face and she kissed her fully and passionately.

"Come we must begin to prepare you for entry into the Sisterhood," Elisabeth said and her shiny arm snaked around Juliet's waist forcing her to accompany the towering latex clad mistress into the recesses of the building.

The couple enters a white tilled room. In one corner is a shower cubicle and adjacent a cabinet. Silently two maids enter the room. They wait, both staring at Elisabeth awaiting her instructions. Juliet looks at these bizarre creatures. The harsh lighting in the room causes ripples of light to boil on their highly polished rubber skin. They balance precariously on black patent boots, rapier like heels cause both maids to soar to well over six feet tall. Their breasts, well developed and firm, are held in a taut embrace by the shimmering latex making up their blouses. Juliet began to get turned on, began to fantasise about being similarly clothed, becoming a slave to Mistress Elisabeth.

"Child," Elisabeth said as her hand rested on Juliet's shoulder, "these maid will assist in your preparation. Allow them to instruct you in the delights of slowly surrendering to encapsulation in rubber."

Elisabeth kissed Juliet's cheek and left the room. As she left the maids slowly approached Juliet. One indicated that Juliet should remove her clothes. Gingerly Juliet complied, she slipped her sweater over her head and handed it to her mute assistants. Her shoes were flicked from her feet and her jeans soon followed. She paused at her underwear. The maids looked impassively at her, they heavy shadowed eyes focussed on her but also seemed a million miles away. "Oh well I suppose it all needs to come off, huh?" she said not really expecting a reply.

Slowly her bra clasps were unhooked and she allowed it to drop to the floor. Her breasts were full and shapely, but were no match for those of the maids. Juliet peeled of her white panties and stepped out of them. A little shiver ran up her spine as she stood before these two latex dolls. Unmoved by her appearance they pointed in unison to the shower and Juliet realised they meant her to shower before dressing.

She turned on the water and waited until it warmed sufficiently before stepping in. The warm jets quickly soaked her and Juliet began to lather the soap. She closed her eyes as her slick hands washed over her erect nipples and sought out the delicate cleft of her sex. She was becoming aroused and the presence of the two maids just outside the shower stall only turned her on more. Lost in her raw sexual fantasy she did not notice the door open and a black shiny hand reach in. Only when it brushed against her skin did she shudder back to reality and look down at the glossy intruder. It held a pair of goggles. Juliet thought it strange to wear goggles just to shower but put them on anyway. The maid looked and checked she was wearing them and signed to the other. At first the water seemed to get a little cooler then Juliet's skin began to tingle. She ran her fingers through her hair only to scream in horror as handfuls of hair came away in her hand. She rushed from the cubicle tears welling in her eyes. A mirror on the wall revealed the awful truth as she surveyed her bald scalp and her naked sex.

One of the maids came over to her a huge towel in her hands. Juliet screamed at the maid, "What have you done to me, my hair my lovely long hair." The maid wrapped the towel around the distraught woman and began to dry her thoroughly. Juliet sobbed into the towel.

As she looked up Juliet saw that the other maid was carrying a container of talcum powder. It was sprayed liberally over her denuded body. A white mist enveloped Juliet and again Juliet was forced to close her eyes. Seconds later Juliet felt something smooth against her skin. She looked down to see a long tube of white latex being eased onto her leg. The silky smoothness felt wonderful on her perfectly smooth skin. The stocking was hitched up her leg and was soon joined by another on her left leg. Both limbs shimmered provocatively and Juliet could not resist touching her latex cocooned legs.

A pair of panties, again in shimmering latex were next. Juliet assisted the maids in drawing the sensuous item towards her expectant and swollen sex. The moment when sensitive flesh met taught latex caused her to swoon. Never had Juliet thought the simple act of dressing could contain so much pleasure. As she opened her eyes and licked her dry lips, she realised that there was much more. A suspender belt was next, six wide straps dangled like tiny snakes from the thin white rubber. With practised ease the maids had the suspenders attached to her latex stockings and the belt nestled around her waist. A small waist clincher was brought over. It was soon around Juliet's waist and the maids tightened the laces reducing her waist by almost three inches. A pair of gloves were next on the list and again Juliet allowed the maids to encase her limbs in a feathery membrane of white latex. The gloves were shoulder length and both maids worked all the wrinkles from the shiny latex.

Juliet stood admiring her self. She loved the look of her latex clad limbs and the way her figure was sculpted by the small corset. The touch of her gloved hands on her breasts felt electric. Her nipples swelled and hardened to become rigid kernels of charged passion. Again Juliet teetered on the brink of orgasm. She tried to bring herself down from the dizzying precipice of passion, she must not, could not loose herself to addiction to latex. The maids presented the final article of her uniform. A full-face hood, again made from brilliant latex. This was perhaps the most erotic item of all. Juliet tensed as the latex hood was stretched over her shiny hairless head. The feel of latex against her scalp was delicious. The uniform touch as slowly the latex slithered over her familiar features imparting a shiny covering, transforming what was once women into something much more., was literally overwhelming. The latex settled and clamped itself to every part of her head and neck. Her eyes were contained in transparent lenses. Tiny holes were aligned with her nostrils and her mouth lined up against a small red rimmed mouth hole.

As soon as she was dressed, the maids brought over a pair of ankle boots. The boots were platform soled stilettos and were white patent leather. The boots were quickly placed on Juliet's feet and fastened. The additional height was strange at first and even Juliet, not unaccustomed to high-heeled shoes struggled to master these. Finally, satisfied that their charge would not fall, the maids lead Juliet from the room.

There was sounds of a gathering of people behind ornate doors and as the maids opened the heavy doors Juliet saw the main arena type room. Row after row of erotically garbed women stared down. Elisabeth came over to Juliet.

"Jamie, you look absolutely stunning. How do you feel?" she asked, her hands roaming over the smooth surface of Juliet's latex-coated body.

"I I didn't really like the shaving. But I can't believe how the latex feels on my body. The mask, it seems to heighten rather than dull the senses," Juliet replied, "but what happens next?"

"Oh the ceremony. First a new male maid will be asked to submit to Tabithi. She is our goddess of transfiguration. Several novices will be ushered into the ranks of mistresses and a new maid is being elevated to Beta status. Then you will be baptised and take up your status as a novice. The ceremony of baptism is relatively straightforward, follow my lead and you will be alright," explained Elisabeth.

Elisabeth ushered Juliet to a small section of chairs and they both waited for the full Sisterhood to enter the room. The women entered in silence, only the chattering of countless boots on stone steps and the crackling and squeaking associated with latex and leather polished to a brilliant lustre.

Antoinette stood and called the assembled to order, "Sisters, we are gathered tonight in the sight of Cybele to give thanks for the vision and courage of our leader Madame Angelique."

In unison the women stood and offered praise. During this cacophony of eulogies Angelique entered the hall. She stood on a dais and acknowledged the adulation. From a side door Juliet saw a bizarre latex encased figure being marched forward and forced to kneel directly in front of Angelique. The creature's waist had almost disappeared beneath of wickedly tightened corset. Its head crushed inside a full rubber hood.

"Sisters, here is our latest convert. He is male no longer, already is body is being changed, feminised by massive hormone injections. His mind will soon follow, thanks to the tender ministrations of Antoinette and novice Sarah," Angelique reaches down to the masked figure and peels back a flap of latex. A "snick" and she also withdraws a chromium device and attached bladder.

"As is our custom, handed down from Cybele and Hecate no male may enter our order as maid without pledging himself to our goddesses, Well, Mr Duggan...."

Juliet heard the name and a gasp issued from her. Mercifully, her shock was deemed excitement by Elisabeth. Juliet's mind was in free fall. Jim Duggan, rubberised and bound by these women, definitely against his will. It was clear that Angelique was quite mad, the rest of these women probably as mad, even Elisabeth. She could not leave him, she was responsible she knew that and would never be able to live with herself abandoning him to this fate. She had to rescue him as well as Philip.

"Mr Duggan, do you pledge yourself to Cybele, to Hecate and to a lifetime of service to the Sisterhood?" asked Angelique impatient at Jim's silence.

"You have got to be kidding! Me serve you sick bitches..." spat Jim, before a swipe from Angelique's latex covered hand toppled him over.

"Beta 4 and 6 take this thing back to his cell. Obviously he requires more persuasion from Antoinette, " she looked up at a crimson Antoinette, bullwhip ever present at her side.

"Sister's I must apologise for this annoying, albeit futile, display of male bravado. But now onto a more pleasing duty. Gamma 8, please join me on stage," she beckoned a motionless latex cocooned creature forward. The pitiful victim moved with interminable slowness, tight neck to hip corseting ensured that only tiny, mincing steps could be taken. The figures head was in a mask, red latex with a pseudo ponytail of ivory representing its hair springing from the top. Ballet boots, compounded the already sizeable difficulty it had walking and its arms were held behind it, Juliet surmised that these limbs were also held in excruciating latex bondage.

"Sisters, Gamma 8 has shown remarkable progress in adapting to the changes we have forced on her. She has risen to the challenge of femininity we graciously bestow on our charges and she has mastered the trials of latex bondage with admirable dedication. It is therefore my pleasurable duty to grant Gamma status on this maid." Thunderous applause echoed around the hall, together with calls of congratulations and praise to many mysterious goddesses.

A Beta walked up to the dais carrying a mass of shiny latex. Slowly the Beta began undressing the latex bound figure. Juliet, whether through absolute pessimism or through a sixth sense had a very bad feeling about this. As the heavy latex was peeled from the figure, slowly, like a photograph developing in a tray of chemicals, recognition crept up on her. The figure did not have to turn for Juliet to know that this, this perfect maid, was her husband Philip.

Juliet watched in almost disassociated fascination as he was repackaged in the less severe outfit of a Beta. Firstly, jet black panties, were eased up his legs. Just before enclosure within tight latex, Juliet saw a glint of metal in her husband's groin. His penis was obviously imprisoned in something cold and hard and metal. She wanted to scream at these people, to charge onto the dais and hit this woman who had reduced her man to this. But she knew she would not stand a chance, she would blow the entire rescue attempt. The encasement of his sex was followed by a matching bra, cupping slight protuberances on Philip's hairless chest. A shiny latex suspender was next to be positioned around his corset-trained waist. Fishnet stockings were rolled up his legs in a slow, sensuous movement. Juliet felt hot, she also felt revulsion that this public humiliation of her husband could turn her on so much.

A halter-top was attached around Philips chest and then the maid began to create the intricate tattoo all Betas wore around their navel. Philip did not move as the design was marked on his skin and the outline was filled in crimson ink. The number 15 was inked within the symbol indicating his new status in life Beta 15. The only sound above the buzzing of the tattoo gun was a rising murmuring, coupled with the unmistakable gasping of sexual excitement reverberating around the hall. The maid finished of Philip's marking and turned "her" attention to Philip's face, The sole focus was on Philip's eyes and Juliet watched whilst with great care thick purple cosmetics were applied to her husbands eyelids. Not content with this act of feminisation, false eyelashes were readies and slowly placed on Philips eyelids. There was no subtlety in these, long jet black lashes brushed his cheek with every opening and closing of his eyes. Finally, a thin veneer was lightly brushed over the cosmetic and lashes fixing these with permanence on her husband's face. Angelique handed the maid a red latex skirt, identical to the one worn by the maid. In silence Philip stepped into the skirt and allowed it to be zipped up. The tight latex coated hips turning what was once male into an erotic parody of exaggerated femininity.

Julie cast her eyes down. She could not watch as Philip was re-hooded and re-shod ready to take his place as one of Angelique's maids. When Juliet looked up he was being escorted from the dais. Again Angelique stood in the centre of the dais and beckoned to Elisabeth, Juliet was nudged and she was guided towards Angelique. Juliet's stomach was in knots. Ordinarily she would be revolted by this woman, what she had done to Philip, to Jim Duggan. Now she had to act as a willing recruit into this madness. Juliet took her lead from Elisabeth, her sponsor.

"Sisters, we have an applicant for entry to our number. Who sponsors this applicant?" Angelique called out a ritualised challenge.

"I, Madame Elisabeth, sponsor Jamie Stevens for entry into our Sisterhood," Elisabeth stepped forward, her physical presence, encased in latex and leather rivalled that of Angelique.

"Madame Elisabeth has spoken, sisters. What say you, is the Sisterhood prepared to accept a new novice into the embrace of our living cult of Cybele this night?" the room echoed with murmuring, then "yes" began to grow in intensity until the will of the Sisterhood was unmistakable.

"I hear and obey sisters. Know O applicant that you have been accepted into our ranks. This night you have no family but the Sisterhood, no mistress but Cybele and no belief but in our holy duty to save mankind from its male guided race to extinction," Angelique said.

Elisabeth whispered to Juliet that she should kneel at Angelique's feet and repeat the pledge after Angelique.

"O Cybele, great goddess, mother of us all accept this applicant into your divine love. Protect her from harm and empower her with your divine wisdom," began Angelique.

"I Jamie Stevens submit to you, great goddess. My body is your vessel, my soul your tool. Do with me as you will."

Juliet followed the incantation, word for word. Until finally, she hesitated over the final pledge.

"I swear to uphold the principles of female supremacy, to work to eradicate the male menace and to never again be possessed by a man."

Juliet stalled, she balked at this statement, but the look from Elisabeth caused her to slowly repeat Angelique's words. On completion, both Elisabeth and Angelique lifted her to her feet. Latex arms encircled Juliet's compressed waist and both women took turns to kiss Juliet passionately on her lips. Elisabeth, whispered a welcome and invaded Juliet's mouth with her snake like tongue.

Juliet walked from the dais with Elisabeth. The lighting came up and the audience filled from the tiers and made their way from the great hall.

"Well done my love. You are now part of the Sisterhood," Elisabeth smiled, her latex mask wrinkled and it was obvious that she was delighted with Juliet.

"I'm glad that went Ok. I feel drained, nerves and the enormity of what I have just done I think. Could I go somewhere to have a sit down," asked Juliet, only half lying.

"Of course Jamie, any of the rooms in the building are at your disposal. The room to your left has a sofa. You can rest there," replied Elisabeth.

Juliet entered the room. She closed the door and sat on the opulent, velvety sofa. The sound of boots clicking down the hall revealed that Elisabeth was leaving her alone.

Juliet stood the still unfamiliar creak from he white latex clothing caught her unawares and she instinctively placed her hands on her legs to try and silence the sound. She edged the room door open and peeped up and down the corridor. Satisfied that she was alone she slipped from the room and, hugging the walls, she retraced her steps back to the hall and across to where she had seem Jim taken. The time to cross the hall seemed an age, and Juliet was convinced that she would be seen. Finally, she reached the far door and found it open. She opened it a crack and looked into another short corridor . Three doors fed from the corridor and Juliet surmised Jim was behind one of them.

Jim heard the door to his cell open, the sound was muffled by a thick latex helmet but was unmistakable. He directed his head towards the sound and through smoked lenses saw a white figure approach. He recoiled, fearing another beating by Sarah. His latex outfit squeaked as he crushed himself against his restraining pole and tensed his body for the impact of the whip.

"It's OK Jim. It's Juliet. I am going to get you, and Philip out of this nightmare."

Juliet began to feel around Jim's black rubber torso for the cuffs anchoring him to the pole. She found the heavy leather cuff and managed to unbuckle it. Jim fell forward and Juliet caught him. She rubbed his back, aiming to soothe the fearful occupant of the rubber cocoon. The latex hood was a much tougher proposition but finally she had uncovered Jim's head and extracted the gag from his mouth.

"Oh my god, I can't believe it. Juliet I thought I'd never be free from that hood. We need to get out of this place, please," Jim pleaded with her, his face red and covered in sweat and his eyes wide with fear.

"Philip, I must find Philip," Juliet repeated.

"With all due respect screw Philip. He will be in the maid's dormitory. We don't have a chance getting him out of the dormitory," Jim said his voice edgy and scared.

"I have a chance as a novice. I can say one of the mistresses wants him. You can sneak to the door and have it open when we get there. Please Jim, I could have left you here, don't make me leave my husband."

Jim nodded he lead the way from the room and walked unsteadily to the other side of the hall. Juliet followed his lead and branched off to the second door in the small corridor. Behind the door was a stone staircase and slowly she descended it.

She resisted the temptation of knocking, summoning up her courage she walked straight into the room at the foot of the stairs. The scene that confronted her was unreal. Dozens of bunks lined the room. Latex encased maids occupied some - others were empty.

"Beta 15. Mistress Elisabeth wishes to see you. Please follow me," Juliet commanded as best she could. She saw a maid rise from a bunk, robotically the maid approached her and waited to follow her.

Juliet turned on her heels and marched from the room. Philip followed her in silence. The ascended the steps and at the top Juliet stopped. She turned and her latex hands closed on Philip's head. She looked into his feminised eyes, past the cosmetic adornment, for any spark of her husband. Only a blank, submissive gaze met hers.

"Philip, It's me Juliet. It's OK my love, I'm going to get us away from this place," she said, a tear running from her eyes and tracing across her latex mask.

Juliet put her hand on Philip's shoulder and guided him away from the doors to the mistresses quarters. She felt him pull nervously, as they passed the doorway and walk towards the passageway that lead to the main entrance. She turned back, Philip's eyes now looked scared, he pulled away from her and she had to struggle to steer him with her to the door to the reception hall. Just as her hand pushed on the handle, she felt him slip from her, her fingers scrambled and clawed air as his latex form squirmed free. She turned a desperate look in her eyes, pleading begging him to come with her. Almost in slow motion, her head shaking in denial, Juliet saw her husband betray her, His gloved hand crashed onto a wall-mounted fire alarm. Klaxons wailed a split second later and crying bitterly Juliet turned and went towards the exit.

As she cleared the tears from her eyes she saw the door still locked. She rushed to the door and tried to leaver the locking mechanism open. Her rubber hands slipped from the steel mechanism, tears of rage mingled with those of sadness and she screamed in frustration. Where the hell was Jim, she cursed.

"I'm afraid the door is coded Jamie. You don't have the code yet," the smoky, French tinged accent could only be Madame Verlaine's Juliet thought.

Juliet's head sank against the door. She was caught, her plan in ruins. She turned slowly and was greeted by the sight of Angelique Verlaine accompanied by four maids. Jim was held by two maids, his arms pinioned behind his back. Behind Angelique, the tearful face of Elisabeth could be seen, her eyes unable to meet Juliet's.

"Bring Beta 15 here, " Angelique ordered.

She handed Philip a small pad and pencil.

"Who is this woman Beta 15?" she asked and Philip, without looking at Juliet completed her betrayal as he scrawled "my wife - Juliet".

"So, your wife attempted a rescue, What did you think you were rescuing him from Juliet? He is happy here. You could have been happy here," said Angelique, she outstretched her hand and stroked Philip's latex encased head gently, he stood transfixed, his eyes closed in ecstasy.

"Elisabeth, betrayal by a sister is a serious offence. I can understand your pain at this moment, but nonetheless it is your duty to prescribe punishment as Juliet's sponsor," Angelique said and touched Elisabeth's hand in support.

Elisabeth moved forward, she looked directly at Juliet. It was obvious that Elisabeth had been crying, and she struggled to compose herself. "Door, make her the door person," she said in a faltering voice.

Angelique smiled, "very well. Take her away and prepare her."

Juliet had no idea what her fate would be. She struggled as a maid grabbed her and frog marched her back into the building. "You have no right to do this. This is kidnapping, do you hear!" she screamed.

"James Duggan, I regret the day you entered this building. You are completely irredeemable. Therefore, I do not intend to waste any more time on you. Maids, let this man's fate instruct you in the perils of rebellion. You are to be forced to be of use to our Sisterhood, where freewill will not work and chastisement has failed then latex and steel will bend you to my will. Take him to Mistress Antoinette before he makes me retch."

"You really are screwed up, you know you and this collection of zombies and freaks. I will get out of this madhouse, and when I do I'll bring it all crashing down around your ears!" Jim shouted, his twisting and wriggling form causing three maids to escort him from the reception hall.


Part 5

Deep within the bowels of the building Juliet was escorted into a strange room. The entire room was lined in polished aluminium sheeting. A cubicle stood at the centre, ominously it resembled a shower. Juliet was stripped, no subtlety. Her current status offered her no respect from the maids and the thin white latex was ripped from her body. Antoinette appeared suddenly and looked into Juliet's downcast face.

"I understand that you are to be our door person, I do so enjoy conversion jobs," she purred in a heavy French accent.

Juliet began to panic. She knew that she was in deep trouble and she gave way to tears. They had no effect on her captors and when completely naked she was stood upright and feet apart. Antoinette, approached holding a large black roll. The roll was opened, a loud ripping sound filled the room. Antoinette kneeled in front of Juliet and began to wrap the tape around Juliet's foot. The tape was latex, thick and tacky, it stuck to Juliet's skin.

"This is rubber tape, it is untreated and will self vulcanise to itself. It will, um, shrink significantly after a few hours," smiled Antoinette, her eyes burning with desire.

"No please, you cannot do this to me, please let me go. I am sorry.." Juliet pleaded, "you, you can have Philip, just let me go."

"You have no idea what you did when you betrayed us do you?" asked Antoinette, "you lied to you sisters, and lied to the goddess. Your fate is sealed, your atonement at hand."

The immolation continued apace, the tape passed her thighs now. Juliet continued to plead for release between sobbing hysterically. Her legs were becoming rigid and the slight compression she felt in her calves foretold agonies to come. Antoinette was handed another roll and began wrapping with gusto. The thick tape wound around Juliet's bottom, lifting and compressing both cheeks. The slight coolness she felt at her denuded crotch told her that her sex was still unbound. The tape was being passed round her waist. Antoinette tugged, using her strength to enhance the natural compression of the rubber tape. Juliet's waist groaned as it was ground down to 19 inches. The tape was passed repeatedly over this part of her torso providing a thick corset like effect and ensuring that her waist would never regain a natural circumference.

Another roll was begun and the black tide edged towards Juliet's breasts all the time the growing rigidity of her body was apparent. One maid lifted both Juliet's arms over her head. This caused her breasts to lift and become more prominent. Taking her cue, Antoinette separated the breasts and began wrapping the tape around the root of each mound. Her breasts were now black, separated and tightly bound. They jutted out artificially and hurt like hell. The tape was built up over the top of her cleavage and was lined up with her collarbone. A few final wraps and Antoinette called for a collar to be brought over.

A large, glass fibre collar was presented to Antoinette. It was placed around Juliet's throat and clamped at the back. Juliet could not now look down, her head was forced to a haughty angle, ironic as her current situation resembled abject slavery. The collar was very snug around her neck, but Juliet could swallow and breathe. Antoinette wrapped the remaining tape around the collar. The creamy collar rapidly became as black as the remainder of Juliet's body. The vulcanising effect of the rubber bonded the collar firmly to the tape on her shoulders and suddenly she found any form of head movement. A latex tube was pushed to Juliet's mouth and she was told to open, she complied. The latex filled her mouth, her tongue being compressed to the floor of her distended mouth. She felt it nestle at the back of her throat and inflate slightly.

"This has the advantage of keeping you silent and allowing us to feed you. Clever is it not?" Antoinette said.

The wrapping continued over Juliet's jaw and cheeks. Another maid wrapped both of Juliet's outstretched arms maintaining the outstretched. She began to take on a glossy black star shaped form. The opening to the tube was avoided and two narrow tubes were inserted into her nostrils. A single twine of tape over the bridge of her nose anchored the breathing tubes in place. A strip of tape was wound around Juliet's shiny hairless head and the top of her head was wrapped in the mummifying tape. Only a narrow band around her eyes remained free of the cloying, vulcanising rubber.

Robotically, like a living statue Juliet was wobbled to the cubicle. She was helped to a small raised circle in the middle. A pair of old welding goggles were place over her eyes and a long tube attached to her mouth. The corrugated pipe was fed out of the cubicle and left to dangle. Antoinette approached with a long black object with a flat base. Totally immobile, Juliet watched with horror as the object was brought up against her sex. She felt the soft flexible head nuzzle the outer lips of her vagina. Antoinette brought her head close to Juliet's. Juliet closed her eyes and felt the rubber intruder slide through and lodge itself within her. She gasped and felt it fills her totally, its soft yielding stem was sucked deep inside. The flat base clamped against her mons and try as she might she knew it would not dislodge, This monstrous invader was now part of her, part of whatever they had planned for her.

A hissing started and Juliet felt impacts on her rubberised form. She opened her eyes to see a miasma of black spraying at her from a multitude on nozzles situated in the cubicle. She began to rotate, splashes of the thick viscous liquid struck her goggles and eventually robbed her of vision. Juliet smelt an overpowering aroma of latex. Her body felt heavier, she was gathering a coating and then it dawned on her. She was being sprayed with liquid latex. Not content with the immobilising latex tape they were adding to her mummification. She breathed unsteadily her breath rasping along the pipe emanating from her mouth. Slowly the sense of spinning lessened and she stopped, the jolt almost knocking her over. Silence coupled with blindness caused Juliet to hyperventilate. Her chest tried to rise normally against the crushing bindings that enclosed her body. She whimpered softly, the tube inside her mouth robbing her of all but the most pathetic of vocalisations.

Heat, intense enough to cascade through the latex encrusted goggles shattered the void. The smell of curing latex, heady with ammonia caused her to swoon. Juliet felt another wave of compression and her muscles and limbs screamed with discomfort.

The goggles were lifted away from her eyes and Juliet blinked in the light. She could not move at all and her peripheral vision revealed her arms making 45-degree angles with her shoulders. They shone like jet, the liquid latex had covered the uneven rubber tape and smoothed away any trace of edges. They had obviously sprayed huge amounts of silicon onto the latex once dried, as it shimmered wetly in the lights.

Once again she was moved from the cubicle. She felt her self being lowered onto a board. Then she sensed gliding. They were wheeling her like some kind of statue. She was no longer treated as a living thing and even Antoinette refrained from any comment as she was wheeled past her and out of the room.

The two maids wheeled at some speed past a number of doors. Juliet scanned ahead as far as her vision allowed. They were returning to the reception hall, but why she wondered. The door opened and the maids wheeled her in. Several maids were already there and Juliet saw them drawing down the huge mechanism from behind the door. Deep within Juliet alarm bells were ringing, fear like churning acid gnawed at her insides. The huge chrome star shaped mechanism was lowered to ground level. It clanked heavily as it made contact.

Juliet watched as the maids began to unclamp catches on the strange object. Then they began to lift sections of the star shaped object away. A black shape throbbed obscenely within the star. As more sections were unclamped Juliet saw the figure take human form. It was thin, stiff and female. The arm and leg sections were lifted away and the entire back of the figure could now be inspected. The head covering was pulled off and Juliet saw a shimmering dome that was unmistakably the back of a human head. She knew now the enormity of her fate, the door person a living opening mechanism, constrained in latex and chrome.

The maids lifted the occupant from the metal mould. The rigid nature of her costume was apparent in that her body remained in its star shaped pattern regardless of the removal of figure hugging metal coverings. The woman was propped against the wall and Juliet saw her twin staring back at her, Those self same eyes that so intrigued her days ago shone back and Juliet sensed pity in them. Pity for Juliet who would now replace this emaciated latex doll in the cruel embrace of the chromium locking mechanism.

"Caroline, my dear I hope you have learned from your year as door person. Betrayal has a heavy price. But now we shall commence your rehabilitation. Maids take her and remove her bondage. Bathe her and ensure she is fed and her limbs massaged," Angelique ordered, "Juliet you see your fate and you see that the Sisterhood will welcome even the most lowly sinner back to its bosom. Reflect on this as you serve your sentence."

Julie screamed into her gagging tube. She tried to move her useless limbs, red filled her eyes as she strained in vain. She was lifted like a doll and felt herself lowered into the front of the mould. The connecting wires from her embedded vibrator/catheter arrangement were connected to internal fittings. The alarm circuit was connected. Now each press of the door buzzer would cause painful discharges through the vibrator and other contacts lined up with Juliet's clitoris. Little did she realise that she had to clench the vibrator and by squeezing this devilish tormentor she would start in motion the door opening. Should people be non-members then she would have to endure, until their boredom or her unconsciousness brought relief. Juliet felt the metal casing being reassembled and the grip of metal became a sensation all over her body. Her head felt the rear casing snick home and the clicking of clamps soon followed. Juliet's eyes stared straight forward, currently the fine grained wood of the door filled her vision but then she sensed movement and slowly she rose up the door and into a recessed cavity. Darkness soon engulfed the metal effigy and Juliet screamed as she realised that this up and down motion represented the extent of her existence until Angelique chose to release her. The crowd filtered away from the hall the sounds of their boots on polished wood receding into the building. Faintly, barely audible at all, the sound of bitter sobbing added its sad chorus to the house of the Sisterhood.