Fashion Victim · Part 2 (2/2)
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u saw in the show. They had to know the catwalk down to the last inch — although we also had a secret signaling system I'll tell you about. The models had to practice balancing themselves in the dark and with their arms restrained, while in tall heels.
"They also went through long hours of yoga practice and we helped them with muscle relaxants and other treatments. Of course, I had to make individual adjustments, and tuck all the men in, if you know what I mean.
"Some of them had to diet, and then be fitted with very tight corsets to make up the difference. You see, for the sake of this set piece and going forward in our private activity, I demanded that my leathermodels look as nearly alike as possible — that is, at least from the outside of their catsuits.
have been able to make them look so much alike when suited up that only a tiny painted number on the bottom of one of their boot heels will let us identify each of them with complete assurance. Although," she laughed mysteriously, "we also have that secret signaling system!"
Duarte sniffed again. "Well, I see that only a slave and not a hired model would go through all that for one show. However, one thing bothers me: There is no way even with all that training, even without clever staging and electronic tricks, that a blindfolded model could move in such precise fashion, in step with nine others. No way!"
Now it was Lana's turn to act dismissive. "You underestimate the will of the human mind, Duarte. Or maybe you do understand, but wish not to admit it. Many things are possible, given sufficient time to test and perfect, and given limitless discipline, respect, self-actualization and the urge to achieve. Hindu monks can stop their hearts, after all.
"But while this is interesting, it's not getting our business done, so let's cut to the chase, and then we can relax that much sooner. There are three reasons you cannot have the units you seek.
"One, you seek them for profit, and I will not sell these suits for profit. They are special. They were at the end of my show for a reason. For display, but not for release from my private collection.
"Two, as I said earlier, I could not possibly make enough of these suits, even if I did care to sell them. The work is laborious and precise, and no amount of money would be just recompense.
"Three, and this is the biggest reason of all: THE SUITS ARE NOT DISTINCT FROM THEIR
WEARERS. Where the suit goes, so goes the wearer. The leather catsuit and the wearer ARE the unit."
Duarte's eyebrows fairly vibrated. "What? What do you mean!?"
mean that a couple of ways. The suits are custom-fitted for an individual as they are made. But more important, it is my strong philosophical conviction that these leather catsuits belong to each of my leathermodels — and my leathermodels belong to ME. And I will continue to possess them. Always and forever.
know what you're thinking: Some dominatrices do sell their slaves, sometimes with the slave's consent, but I'm not one of them. Just not my style or urge."
Duarte looked lost. "I… I don't understand. You mean to say…? But…!"
Lana laughed, with a trace of wickedness at the edge of her smile. "Oh don't be so cryptic, Duarte! I know all about you. You're a powerful, influential and self-assured man in public, but I can sense a serious submissive from five klicks away. And you and I are a lot closer than that. I've heard stories about you, around the shops and on the street. I've even overheard conversations, some of them your own. And I checked into a few things.
have no doubt that your Russian buyer is real and would like to own these catsuits. But I also have no doubt that you could not help but approach me after the show. You asking to speak to me in private, about what you called an urgent matter: that summed up all my theories.
"But you don't have to tell me about yourself except to admit that these leather catsuits have evoked more than a professional interest in you. You want one of these suits to keep, not to sell to a client. The only mystery I had to resolve was whether the suit was for some playmate of yours… or for yourself."
Duarte glared. "How dare you?! I've a mind to get up and leave right now. No one insults Duarte the way you…"
"Hush now, my poor, hopeless, transparent, closet submissive of a man! You can leave this private room at any time. And you will leave. The only question is whether you will leave of your own volition, in anger, or under my terms, in happiness and anticipation of a great exciting change. You know all about me, too, don't you? In fact you know rather more about me than vice versa, and yet I understand you better than you do me.
let me lay it out for you, and then you can answer one simple question.
have ten leathermodels. Ten male or female slaves, playmates or lovers or both, who have accepted me as their total, ultimate Madonna and dominatrix, ten who accepted my offer to create for each of them a highly personal copy of this very special catsuit. A suit which, with my new manufacturing techniques, completely encases and objectifies the person who wears it. And I do mean completely.
you now understood, the suit once donned is utterly inescapable. Even if the wearer's arms were free, and their fingers and hands not tightly mitted inside unseamed and heavily padded leather, there would be no zippers for them to worry, or straps for them to try to flex or wriggle out of. Once on, the suit stays on, until I open it again with my special photochemical sealing technique.
"The result is that this suit is like a skin. A complete, self-contained universe. No chaffing points, no loose air spaces. It's extremely comfortable. Buttery soft.
And completely and permanently sealed, until I undo my techno-magic."
Duarte began, "But they obviously must breathe! How…?"
said hush, didn't I" Lana smiled and took another sip of wine. "This is the one concession in the suit's otherwise total enclosure. There are two things you cannot see. The first is that I came up with a way to use a separate electrochemical process to make microscopic perforations in leather without weakening it.
"These are holes so tiny they cannot be seen and yet they are large enough to pass air molecules. Thousands of these holes can fill a square centimeter and yet look and feel like ordinary leather to the naked eye.
could include these perforations over the hood's eye cavities, too, and perhaps in future editions I will, but for now I just don't, ah, see the need for my leather-encapsulated slaves to keep their sight.
"For now, the invisible, microscopic vent holes form a small oval over the mouth of each wearer. I should note that the hood of this special catsuit contains a built in padded leather gag of rather significant size. It has a hollow tube in it, however, so air can be passed.
"There is also an osmotic filter in the tube that prevents any liquid from escaping, so the wearer is still forced to swallow his or her saliva. Thus the suit stays clean and dry, while my leathermodels are able to get just enough air, although they must practice long hours before they are able to exert themselves at the level you saw without becoming faint.
"Another set of my microscopic vents — patent pending! — is positioned over each nostril, for additional airflow.
should note that the hood is carefully fitted to perfectly match each wearer's head. Also, the inner leather lining of the hood over these points carries a gas-permeable adhesive, so that the hood will not inflate or deflate no matter how hard the wearer breathes.
"There is another option on this suit: In the design of the lining I took care to run a number of lines made of thin, flexible but noncollapsible hollow plastic tubing.
Two of these tubes can be cemented temporarily into the wearer's nostrils down into the esophagus, to provide a liquid feeding line.
"Two other tubes can be used to collect urine and deliver a slow enema. Both male and female suits contain built-in butt plugs through which the enema tube passes.
The female unit also has a built-in dildo through which the urine tube passes.
The male unit, of course, requires a catheter insert.
"All these tubes route to the crotch, where they are cemented to the skin of the suit. There, also, the suit can be selectively unseamed using my new electronic sealing technique whenever the body needs waste treatment or fresh water or liquid nutrient.
this fashion, my leatherslave can be kept in the suit for many hours, or even several days and perhaps a week or more.
"You may also be interested to know that the suit's inner leather lining also contains numerous electrode contact points, which are fed by a system of fine wires in the suit lining to a flat little receiver unit in the small of the back. This unit is a battery-transformer that is wirelessly controlled and which can transmit TENS-type electroshocks to the various electrodes in the suit.
"These electrodes I can activate at low settings to massage tired muscles, or at higher settings either for discipline or for sending function commands to the slave.
You know: For example: Two short shocks to the left tit means turn left and stop. So this doubles as our signaling system!
"I'll let you imagine where the rest of the electrodes are emplaced, except to say there's even one built into the integral gag, for those times when more severe discipline needs to be administered.
"Now, my friend Duarte, we come to the reason we are here tonight in my special dining box. The reason I openly acknowledge, and the reason you fear to admit.
"For it happens that while I have ten leathermodels who are now fitted to wear my new
Model TLC Total Encasement Leather Catsuit, I happen to have enough material and appropriate leather hides on hand for eleven such suits. The last suit remains half built and unassigned. I am offering you a one-time opportunity to join my stable of slaves and to be custom-fitted as my eleventh leatherslave.
do not demand or expect that you will live with me on a full-time basis. You could expect to serve me directly on at least a weekly schedule, at my pleasure.
Thus you would have to arrange your work so that you could drop everything on an instant's notice should I command your presence.
"You would be required to make yourself available for service for periods ranging from one evening to up to four weeks at a time, continuously, with no prior notice. I happen to know you are a man of means for whom this shouldn't be problem.
would have many unusual, intense and exciting adventures in leather bondage and discipline.
"Often but not always, I would encase you in your special seamless and armless leather catsuit. I would care for you and see that no lasting harm comes to you, but I would practice severe leather discipline upon you, and to obey me completely.
There would be great pain, and also great pleasure. There would be others with whom you might also be obliged to serve, or even to help me dominate. Often, as when you're in your catsuit, you would be utterly objectified — no longer a person, but my personal plaything.
"While you would be serving my needs, based on what I have surmised, you would also be serving your own unmet desires.
"For
I am a sensual, sensitive and caring dominatrix. I make you this offer because you are the right material, and because in certain ways physical and intellectual and emotional, I fancy you. But It's also true that I fancy tearing you down from time to time, depersonalizing you and making you nothing more than an instrument for my own perverse and erotic pleasures. A slave not only in my home, my bedroom and my dungeon, but also a leatherbound slave who will follow behind me on your leash to the opera, to the clubs, the park or wherever I choose to go.
can assure you that — despite the ordeals that will test you — your own rewards would be extremely great in terms of physical sensations that are life-affirming and awakening. Because, even though I'm in complete control, it would still be a two-way relationship, and a fantastic slave cannot be all about doing work.
"Between my calls on you, you will if you prefer be allowed to keep your money, your reputation and everything else about your current life that you care about. You can even keep your anonymity, if you prefer, with respect to our relationship.
But I will take your will. Actually, you may convince yourself that you wish to willingly hand over control to me.
Perhaps with a bit of prodding, but nonetheless!
how about it, Duarte? Will you become my eleventh leatherslave? Will you let me dress you as a one of my leathermodels and teach you to become an object that performs on future catwalks, that walks blindly at my side, that gladly accepts what punishments and pleasures that I care to administer to it?
only requirement is that you answer yes or no within the next 60 seconds."
Silence ensued until 50 eternal and tense seconds later, a nearly speechless Duarte croaked out a whisper: "Yes, Lana, I accept your offer."
"That's wonderful. Only from now on, to you, I am Maitresse Lana, even in polite company. Do you understand, slave?"
Another hoarse whisper: "Yes."
"Fine.
Now, you must stay here and I must be off. Two of my leather femme collies will arrive within an hour to dress you in your first leather slave costume. You will be hooded, gagged, and leashed, and you will follow them to a limousine that will bring you to my villa, where I will be ready to begin with you.
"Please do take time while you wait to make any phone calls in order to settle your affairs for the next week, for I will need to occupy all that time with your initial training. Oh, and of course we'll also immediately fit you for your TLC
Total Encasement Leather Catsuit. You will be Total Encasement Leather Slave
Number Eleven. Eleven, for short. Such a lucky number, for such a very lucky man!"
She pulled on her emerald leather gloves and pressed her right index finger hard over his lips. "Our wonderful and mutually rewarding years in the business world now gives way to an even greater and much more pleasurable and exciting relationship. I have watched you and thought about this for a long time, now, and if you reflect upon it, I think you will finally recognize that you "The deal is done, but your ordeal is just beginning. Number Eleven, reflect upon your good fortune and the sweet misery of your fate, forevermore."
She kissed Number Eleven's flushed, perspiring forehead, and then Charles the waiter arrived to escort her from the dining box. The man in the box felt hard, moist stirrings in his soul. He panted continuously for the next hour, and for much of the rest of his life.
Fashion Victim · Part 2 (2/2)
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