The Doll Hotel 9: Rebellion in Heaven

I was left bound, frightened and alone. At some point the lights in the room shut off and plunged me into darkness. It seemed as if I had been completely forgotten. Waiting in the darkness, time dragged painfully slowly. I thought my legs were starting to shake unstoppably. I did my best to rest them by putting more weight on my arms, but my arms were also approaching their limits. At least I had some leeway for movement. I waited in the dark for a subjective eternity. Perhaps it was little more than a few minutes. I have no way to tell. I didn't even trust my own heartbeat as a measure: not that I could concentrate to count that fast.

Suddenly, my world changed: a light had come on, but not in my room. I now realised that there was a glass window between my room, with all the machinery, and another, which seemed to contain control panels. The window had looked out only onto darkness before, and so I hadn't really noticed it. It had been nothing but a dark shiny surface, and the room was filled with shiny surfaces, conduits and machines. Now that the space behind it was illuminated, the scene beyond the window took on the unreal but compelling properties of a movie screen, and it drew my eyes hypnotically despite the effort it took me to lift my head to stare at it.

I could see Mistress Three moving about in the newly illuminated control room. Number Two followed her into the room. It appeared that she was followed by a maid in standard uniform. The maid was dragging a body. It was a blonde female in a black rubber cat suit. I guessed it was Number One. I couldn't tell if she was dead, or just unconscious, but she certainly wasn't moving. The maid abandoned the body on the floor. I vaguely recognised her as one of the maids that I had seen a few times before, but I couldn't really be sure of her identity. The three figures began a heated debate. I couldn't distinguish any of the words through the glass, and frustratingly I could make no sense of what they were saying.

At length, their conversation ended. A door from the control room opened, and the lights began to flicker on in my room. The maid dragged the motionless body of Number One over to nearby where I was secured and abandoned it again. She went back to the control room, and beyond, out of my sight. Mistress Three and Number Two came into my room, and began to strip the suit from the body without paying the slightest attention to me. They were now both fully covered in thin rubber suits and wearing surgical masks and gloves, which at first I thought rather curious. The body of Number One was naked under the suit. Blonde curls spilled out once the hood was removed and her eyes were closed. I noticed that the hair had not been stuck down with sweat as I would have expected, nor were there any marks on her body from the rubber. I thought this strange as my own skin was a mess of red marks and other evidence of my long term immersion in rubber.

I watched as Mistress Three used surgical spirit to clean around Number One's genital area. More spirit was applied, and then a small plastic tube-like device was removed from a sterile package. Mistress Three appeared to insert it into the body's groin. Mistress Three affixed a plastic pack to the end of the thin tube and then continued inserting it. Suddenly orange tinted urine began to flow into the bag. Mistress Three squeezed a small inflator bulb and then applied more surgical spirit. She then closed off a valve and removed the pack. Urine continued to drip from the end of the tube, which she ignored for the moment.

Mistress Three and Number Two then forced a pair of thick black rubber panties onto the limp body. There were protrusions inside that pressed into both orifices and strange stainless steel fittings on the outside of the pants, where cables, hoses, or some sort of machinery could be coupled to them. I noticed that Mistress Three had no difficulty locating the protrusions in the respective orifices of Number One's body, and forcing them into place. The twin dildos didn't look particularly solid, and I knew from personal experience that they wouldn't be easy to insert if they were anything like the inflatable butt-plug I had worn.

They then zipped her into a sort of thick rubber tank-top. I couldn't tell what was inside it, but it had two huge bulging breast domes on the front made of something hard and unyielding. Each dome had shiny stainless steel connections for hoses, pipes and electrical or electronic sockets. Each connection point had a heavy solid look to it, like some high precision industrial equipment. Their victim's outfit really looked outlandish at this point: two naked legs and a human head protruded from what looked more like a black rubber and silver metal android body with oversized bulging breast domes. The way that Number One's body flopped around reminded me of a rag-doll with the conspirators like strange children engaged in an even stranger game of dollies.

The next piece of clothing was a mask pulled down from the ceiling. It was still attached to some sort of thick, ribbed black hose that reached up into the darkness. The mask had no eyeholes, but did have large rounded bulges where the eyes would be. It had no nose or mouth holes, and was shaped roughly like a gas mask. I noticed that there were also large bulges over the ears, like headphones. From inside it emerged a strange sort of forked tube. I watched in rapt horror as Mistress Three swiftly jammed this into Number One's mouth and hard down into her throat. Mistress Three pulled out and reconnected two tubes within the mask, and then moved over to a complex machine to check something.

At first, the rhythmic hiss of regular mechanical breathing seemed jarringly intrusive after the near silence but I soon forgot about it. Mistress Three adjusted the hoses emerging from the mask and then fitted it into place, closing it tightly, with difficulty, at the back of Number One's head with a heavy black plastic zip. Number One was now encased around the head, the chest, and the crotch with complex rubber devices. Her pale arms and legs remained uncovered for the moment.

The two doll-makers hauled a thick rubber suit down from the ceiling, where it had hung connected to more numerous ribbed black hoses with the heavy metal snap-fittings. They disconnected some of these, and began to fit the heavy suit over Number One's body. They encased her limbs and body in the suit. The helmet covered her head already and they joined the two together at the neck with some kind of seal. There were holes in the suit that allowed access to the breast and groin sockets. Once they had it in place they connected heavy looking hoses to these. They added a heavy collar with another hose running into it and laced it into place. It looked as if it inflated somehow, to balloon up like a surgical brace.

The final stage of this weird ritual was a network of strapping. When they were done all of the rubber-doll's limbs, the head, and the shoulders were all connected to supporting cables. Additional cables attached to the body, creating a human sized shiny black puppet hanging from a complex rig of metal cable strings and rubber hoses. The cables in place they began to raise her up towards the roof. It was a cautious process at first: cables tangled, and it wasn't easily arranged to have her properly positioned with all the cables and hoses swinging freely. I remained transfixed by the process, even though I was in great discomfort. I dared not make a sound throughout any of this, even though I wasn't gagged.

Once they had her in the air, they moved her sideways, by means of a gantry and noisy electric motors. Finally they had her positioned above an upright glass tank, perhaps ten feet deep. With great care they began to lower her into the tank, which was filled with some sort of liquid. At last the whirr of the winches stopped, and they were done. Mistress Three spoke, briefly: "I will go and check on her functions, and set things up so the housekeeper won't realise that it's not the maid if she inspects the readouts," she said as the stuffed the remains of the cat suit into a rubber bag, which she took with her.

Number Two remained behind and wiped up the spilled drops of urine from earlier. Then, much to my surprise, she fetched a bucket and carefully mopped the whole floor. The burning reek of hospital grade disinfectant scorched my nose. I was unsettled by the knowledge of the sort of odd experience that I had narrowly avoided. I felt an odd tingle: a teasing thought at the back of my mind that I was sorry to have missed it – that I envied Number One. It only made me dread what lay ahead more. That fact that some part of my mind wanted to be treated that way left a sick sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Now did not seem the moment for self-reflection or to face my own desires, and pain quickly put the thought from my mind.

Shortly, as Number Two completed her sterilisation, the maid returned, pushing what looked like a hotel cleaning trolley.

"You can take her," said Number Two, nodding towards me.

"Thank you Mistress," said the maid.

Now the maid was close up, I could see that she wore a rubber mask like the one I had worn the day before in the housekeeper's rooms. However, in this case her skin suit had been put on over the top of the mask, not beneath it. From a distance it was impossible to spot the counterfeit. Close-up, and with careful inspection it was easy, perhaps even obvious. I realised that the maid was no maid at all: it was Lindsay, disguised as one of the maids by means of the feature-altering mask. I couldn't understand why Lindsay would need a disguise to move about the Hotel unchallenged now that Numbers Two and Three were firmly in control of the Hotel.

I didn't have long to ponder the reasons behind her disguise before she pushed the bulb of a pump gag into my mouth and the bitter taste of black rubber filled my mouth. She buckled the gag tight closed behind my head and then began to pump. I only had a moment to get my tongue beneath it to avoid choking. With just a few squeezes of the bulb my mouth was completely and painfully filled. This gag offered no breathing tube, and I was forced to breathe as best I could through my nose. In an instant my world was reduced to thinking about nothing other than the essential, desperate act of obtaining sufficient air. All the pain and discomfort slipped to the back of my mind as the shortness of breath made the hated, terrifying feelings of panic stir inside me.

Despite myself I felt my penis stir in my rubber pants, straining against its constraints. I felt it strain and push. My heart quickened so I felt my chest would burst. I welcomed anything, anything at all that would take my mind off the rising panic and I was thankful for the distracting erection that helped save me from total panic. Lindsay left the inflator bulb dangling from the gag by its rubber tube and walked around behind me. When she released the bonds holding my wrists up in the air I felt enormous relief in my arms, my back, my shoulders and my legs. The relief was combined with a new rush of pain; fresh blood flooding into my arms, and out of my head making me dizzy. The room span and I collapsed. Things started to grow dim, but then the dizziness passed and the light returned. I was still conscious.

With the assistance of Mistress Three, Lindsay rolled me onto the bottom of the trolley and secured me in place with three straps. They piled towels on top of me to disguise my presence. I couldn’t see anything from beneath the towels, though I wasn't in complete darkness. I barely had a moment to register this before the trolley started moving. I could sense that I was wheeled through several doors, and then travelled for some time. There was a period that I recognised as being in a lift. After that I think I moved only a few dozen meters further.

The trolley stopped and I could hear the click of Lindsay's shoes moving away, followed by the sound of a door. I realised I was alone. I struggled to free myself from the trolley but it was hopeless: I couldn't squirm forward or backwards out of the straps, and they showed no sign of breaking. My efforts did little but succeed in raising a sweat and making me feel desperately short of air. I felt so weak. The realisation that I really couldn't escape, despite a determined effort, triggered a kind of feral panic in me; a tainted mixture of arousal and fear gripped my being. For the first time I fully appreciated how real this was and my bondage genuinely terrified me. It took me a good while to recover my breath, demoralised that the gag robbed me of what little stamina I might have possessed. I could breathe neither fast nor deep. It wasn't much longer before I heard someone enter the room.

Lindsay's disembodied voice drilled through the towels heaped on me:

"You're probably wondering what's going on?" She paused to laugh before continuing. "Unlike 'the staff', I am actually going to tell you. Probably the only way you'll learn anything useful you poor little mushroom," she said. When she spoke, she gave an odd, disrespectful tone to the words 'the staff'. I felt her pulling the towels off me.

"Of course naughty old Five did want to clue you in on some of it, but she wasn't in a rush to spell things out. You might be surprised that I feel sorry for her – really I do – she’s really quite the softie. Not her fault that she’s so damn loyal. Anyway, she'll be alright once we get things sorted out," she said. My next sight was of Lindsay's masked face, very close, her breath stirring my eyelashes. She continued to pull towels away once she'd had a look at my face.

"I see the fear in your eyes. I don't blame you for being afraid: everyone is supposed to think that you will be in isolation for the next couple of months. Of course, nobody lasts that long in isolation without either going irretrievably mad or lapsing into a coma with little hope of recovery," she explained, almost sorrowfully.

"They probably didn't warn you of that when you volunteered for all those punishments," she added. I wondered how she knew all about that; Number Two or Mistress Three must have told her.

"At the end we'll produce your drugged and unconscious body and everyone will believe you're a vegetable. They won't question what's happened to you after that, they’ll just assume that your mindless body has gone to the clinic," she said.

I moaned in horror, perhaps she could catch a little of the sound from behind the gag. I hated that she had pumped it up so hard, it was really hurting my mouth. She had all the towels out of the way now, and was unfastening the straps. If I was going to try anything it would be now, but what could I try?

"So, for all intents, you have vanished. You're mine now: my own personal pet. No cameras saw you being brought here and nobody will look for you here among the numberless slaves," she said.

She could see I was horrified.

"Don't worry my pet, you will be well looked after, and with more love than that miserable old stick of a housekeeper would ever show you," she said.

I was free of the straps now. I thought maybe I would try and bowl her over as she pulled me from the trolley. I had no chance: she clipped something cold and hard to my nose and rolled me out of the trolley in one swift motion.

"As for Number One, she's vanished before without warning anyone and returned just as unexpectedly. Some of the maids aren't even sure she exists. I think The Lehrerin will install her in a special suit that will keep her nice and gentle so we can harvest the nectar from her indefinitely," said Lindsay smugly.

She had me by a lead that clipped to my nose. Then it sank in: there was a big, cold metal ring going right through my septum! I pulled away and felt the sudden jolt of pain stab through my face. It wasn’t just any ring: it was a monster. I could feel it slide against metal plates in my nose. When she let it fall slack it bumped against the inflator tube for the gag. I felt a sucking rush of defeat at what had been done to me without consent or consideration. My face was now little more than a means of restraining me like an animal. What else could happen to me?

The awful helplessness of it almost had my penis weeping with arousal. This realisation in itself was enough to bring me to tears. Not only had they done this to me, but it made me hot. Did this mean I liked what Lindsay was doing to me?

There was something terrible about being aroused so much by something that I intrinsically hated so intensely; something that was done without my consent, against my will. It made me so excited that I would probably do anything for Lindsay just for a chance at relief, if she only asked me - never mind that I was physically helpless to resist anyway. Just the idea that she might give me some kind of relief was starting to eat away at my mind and my concentration was dwindling. I feared that I would never escape this situation because deep down I lacked the will to try. I was in a hell of my own making, and I had dug a pit far too deep to ever climb out of. Could it get any worse?

I knew it probably could.

Lindsay laughed at me, and tugged the leash. "Come on now pet. Heel. Oh, and welcome to your new home," she added.

I had no chance but to tag along behind her. Now, not only could the leash pull me hard enough to make me trip and fall but just the slightest pressure created an instant sensation of pain and a humiliatingly instant need to obey the simple commands of the leash.

We passed the row of windows looking into cells that I had seen before, and into the dressing room. We moved into the 'dungeon' area where I had been strapped in the chair and so cruelly pierced; the place where I had witnessed Nurse Five's fall and the housekeeper's helplessness. We passed through the door I had seen the straitjacketed Five dragged through just two nights ago. Behind the door was another dungeon area, and then a corridor lined with doors. We travelled right to the end.

I found myself in a room with a soft white rubber painted floor. It was windowless of course. The walls were carpeted in pink and the ceiling was almost the same colour. The carpet on the walls combined with the rubberised floor gave me an odd unbalanced feeling, like I was upside down or sideways. There was an extremely large wrought-iron bed with a soft looking cover and fluffy pillows. There was also a feminine dressing table and matching stool in a faux French-Provincial style with perfumes and cosmetics on it.

Bondage accessories, leather and rubber-wear hung from hooks and were arranged on shelves on one wall. A white painted linen chest sat open with more bondage apparel spilling out of it and forming a heap on the floor nearby. There was some kind of stand on wheels lurking in a shadowy corner. I couldn't be sure but it looked like it had numerous hoses and bottles attached to it. There were shiny metal attachment rings for restraints dotted about the walls and floor. I realised that built-in wardrobes were fitted behind the carpeted walls. One was open just a few inches and I caught a glimpse of chains and manacles within. I was dragged into the middle of the room, where a chain dangled from a metal girder crossing the ceiling. I noticed that the girder was white with hand-painted pink scrolls and hearts decorating it. Lindsay snapped a stainless steel spring clip through my nose ring.

"Go ahead, test the piercing. I think it was well done and should easily hold your weight – in complete agony of course," said Lindsay.

She gave me a cruel push, just hard enough, and after an infinity of teetering I finally toppled off balance. Incredible agony shot through my face almost paralysing me. I quickly scrabbled to regain my feet, putting even more weight on my nose as I did so. My involuntary screams were transformed into whimpers of pain, clearly audible despite the gag. Apparently, her theory about the piecing holding my weight was correct.

"Yes, good and solid," said Lindsay. She continued as my eyes blurred with tears.

"This is my room, and as my pet you will usually sleep on the floor. You'll learn to thank me for that, because the alternatives will be far more difficult to endure, though of course there will be times that you endure them anyway because you really don't have any choice," she said in a light tone that I took to be intended as darkly ironic.

I wasn't warming to Lindsay's sense of humour particularly quickly.

"Now, that stuffy old uniform just won't do, and there's really no need for that gag just now, though it does make you look pretty – it's not as if anyone can hear you scream in here," she said.

With skilled fingers she quickly stripped off my outer uniform. It felt very odd to be without it, and when she removed my corset I began to feel exposed, naked and vulnerable in a way I hadn’t expected. I knew, now that the corset was gone, I should be rejoicing in my new ability to breathe deeply, but in practice I couldn't manage to breathe much deeper because I was so much in the habit of breathing only with the upper part of my chest. When I tried to breathe with my diaphragm it was a struggle and just hurt too much. My stomach and back soon began to ache without the corset supporting them, and much to my distress I found myself longing for its return. Scarily, Lindsay seemed to know exactly what was in my mind.

"Don't worry pet, I have a nice new corset for you, just be patient," said Lindsay.

I hated that she seemed able to see into my thoughts. It felt as if I was methodically being stripped bare before her on every level. It was a great relief to my aching jaw when she deflated and removed the gag. It made a real difference to my air supply. I felt enormous relief, almost grateful in fact. I took solace in the fact that I didn't miss the gag one tiny bit.

"Thank you mistress," I said, without even thinking.

"You're welcome my pet," said Lindsay.

I flushed red in shame that I hadn't been able to stop myself from thanking her for finally deciding to let me breathe. I felt an awful sense of shame. It sat somewhere in my gut, fanning the flames of lust throughout the rest of my body. Rather than temporarily remove my nose ring, she cut my rubber punishment hood off with scissors, and offered the same abuse to my skin suit hood. It wasn't long before she had removed the entire skin suit. All that remained of my uniform was the upper torso with the liquid filled breasts, and the panties that controlled my ever-frustrated penis. My skin felt very exposed and cold.

The backs of my legs and the arches of my feet hurt too much if I tried to rest my feet flat on the floor, and though it was very tiring I had to hold them arched myself to avoid worse pain. I found myself longing for the return of yet another part of my uniform that I had believed I hated.

"I had hoped that Nursie could have fixed you up with some real boobs before you ended up here, but she made some sort of excuse about you not being on the hormones long enough to be physically ready for implants yet. It's a real pity," she said making a face. "However, I do have a suction enhancer that will give you nice big tits with a few months of persistent use. It's a bit like the one built into the isolation suit, but without the special extras," she said.

She then used her scissors to cut off my panties and my breast enhancements. She'd removed the armbinder before stripping my clothes. I didn't dare resist when she cuffed my hands behind my back. I looked down at my naked chest. My nipples already seemed to have swollen up big, red and puffy, maybe with the extreme lust I felt right now, or perhaps in reaction to wearing the suit all the time, and my chest area was generally swollen and tender. I was free of all the restrictive punishment garments, but I would gladly have them back if it brought a return to the comfortable, almost safe routine of my maid training.

"From what I've heard, a pair of tight rubber panties wasn't enough to keep you from playing with yourself. Quite the hottie hmmm? Well, that won't do now, I've got something that will keep you properly under control: there'll be no tinkering unless I decide to unlock you," she giggled to herself.

"Why are you doing this?" I said.

"What? Stripping you and dressing you like a doll?" She asked indifferently then suddenly changed her tone to one of bitter anger. "Don't you dare forget to address me properly you stupid slut," she replied and quickly slapped me back and forth across the face. I gasped in surprise more than pain - she hadn't hit me hard.

"I'm your Mistress now pet, don't forget it or there will be severe punishments," she said coldly.

The menacing tone of her voice made me more inclined to obey than the physical blow. Besides, in truth it was now the natural thing for me to obey any order: it had become a habit, and I also knew that in the end she could always make me do as she pleased. What was the point in fighting?

"I'm very sorry Mistress," I said, following my training.

"That's better," she said.

"But... No. No. I mean. Oh. Sorry Mistress, but why have you rebelled against Number One?" I asked, now fearful of being silenced.

She gave me a menacing look.

"You have no right to call what we have done a rebellion," she said darkly.

"Sorry Mistress," I said quickly. It seemed to appease her.

"I did say I would clue you in, and so I shall. Yes. Yes. I'll tell you why we want rid of that bitch – why we want to put her in permanent inhuman bondage as she has done to everyone that dared speak against her – but you probably won't believe me," she said, and just for once I could tell she too was speaking without thinking.

"Once upon a time I was one of the maids my pet. When I quit I was called Number Twelve. Do you know what that meant?" She didn't allow me to answer. "No, of course you don't," she said, then continued. There was clearly no need for me to interrupt.

"At that point there were over one hundred and forty maids. The current Housekeeper for the Hotel, who you know as Number Four, was maid Number Ten and was the most senior maid. Back then, there were ten members of the senior staff. As for Number Five, she was a maid too, and her number was Thirteen. Thirteen has always been considered a lucky number in our circles, but I'm meandering. You see the important thing is to ask where those hundred and thirty maids and five missing senior staff are now," she paused as if expecting me to speak.

Naturally, I was dumbstruck at first. I wasn’t really keeping track of all those numbers, what with the pain and the terror foremost in my mind.

"Don't you want to ask me where they are now my little dolly?" She said then waited, emotions flooding across her face.

"Where are they now Mistress?" I asked, trying to deliver whatever she wanted from me.

"I'll... I'll tell you where they are..." She said - her words trailing off as emotion destroyed her ability to speak.

After a repeated, compulsive mouthing of voiceless words she managed to spit out the thing that troubled her.

"They're dead. Dead! Do you hear me?" She screamed suddenly.

She buried her hands in her hair and wrenched hard at it, pulling out chunks. I was afraid because it seemed like she was demented and might do anything. It was terrifying to be completely at the mercy of someone so far out of control and whose moods could swing so suddenly. Finally, she just sat down in the corner of the room, sobbing softly to herself. It was a while before she continued her story - and then only at my prompting.

"Mistress," I said.

"What pet?" She said, sniffing back the tears.

"What happened to all the maids, mistress?" I asked, somehow knowing that I must ask for both our sakes.

She sighed, and sniffed back more tears.

"They were murdered, killed; massacred, every one. Either they resisted and were shot on the spot, or they were herded into the main meeting-room before it was boarded up and set on fire – others died in explosions," she hesitated for a while. I didn't prompt her this time.

"Many must have suffocated before they burned," she paused to sigh again.

"You see at the time we lived on a tiny island near Greece in the Mediterranean. It was a beautiful place. It was one of those islands that are privately owned and off the tourist maps. Nobody bothered us there until that day. We used to think it was a new Eden. There used to be a monastery, but the monks resisted the Germans in the war somehow, and it was shelled into rubble. The monastery was a cliff-top ruin. We had it partially rebuilt and made our paradise in its overgrown gardens. It was peaceful that place, serene, lovely, but it had bad luck. The people who live there die violently. I suppose the bad luck was waiting for us there. We built our little paradise, and pretended to be a very private school. It worked for a few years, but someone in the Association envied or resented us..." She trailed off.

She didn't continue for a while. At least now she had stopped crying.

"Mistress, who were they? The Association?" I asked, finally.

She gave me an odd look.

"Don't you know? Our enemies are monsters in the shape of men: bitter and angry psychopaths who hate the Goddess and her followers. In truth we have sometimes taken harsh revenge against them too, but nothing like the things they did. Murder isn't in the Goddess' nature."

“The Association was a fancy club for bondage lifestyle enthusiasts. Our ‘school’ had become the pre-eminent slave training establishment in the world. As we became more organised we dragged the Association along behind us. They saw what we’d done and extended their own ambitions. What had been nothing more than a few rich idiots playing at domination became a real clearing house for a new slave trade. The Association council turned from a simple forum that ran a small club for enthusiasts into an elite clique, an inner circle that controlled who could play in the slave trade."

"That bitch Number One said there was no threat from the others in the Association, and she lied. She had the power to protect us, and she didn't use it. I survived the massacre because I had been away arranging shipment of slaves. I arrived back the night of the attack. The complex was littered with corpses. I hid and watched them shooting the stray survivors – cowered and did nothing as they set the final fires."

“Eleven fled with her abomination before the attack took place. Afterwards, it was often pointed out that she seemed to know the attack was coming and left just in time. I find it very strange that Number One has never managed to recapture her. She must have been in on the plot but it’s obvious that Number One doesn’t want anyone to hear what she might reveal about it if she were questioned. The few of us that remained, gathered at the fallback point in Munich. Number One was on the island when they attacked. She should have saved them or died trying. For a few weeks we all thought she must have been killed in the initial explosions. Then, unexpectedly, she arrived, with Thirteen in tow. She didn't explain how they survived. It didn't surprise me that Thirteen was with her, as she was her special darling even then."

"We managed to track down Twelve a few days later; near death in a Turkish hospital. She'd been shot resisting the initial attack and had somehow escaped into the sea. She'd come ashore elsewhere and like me had hidden for days under a bush, covered in mud and expecting to die from infected wounds. I have no idea how she made it to Turkey alive, but once she was there it must have been dumb luck that someone in the German embassy in Turkey was called when she washed up. They thought she was a tourist and got her decent medical care. They told her she'd never walk again."

"I resigned my number that day. I'm still not even completely sure that One didn't betray us herself. Two, Three, Four, Five and Nine were confirmed dead. Six and Seven were away from the island when it happened and they became the new Two and Three.  We decided that a leader who had failed us so badly could not remain in charge, but... It's hard to stand up to Number One to her face; she has the gift of the Goddess. It took us a while to decide how we would deal with her. It's been two years since that happened. We've built The Hotel. Things are peaceful, those who truly want to change come here to learn the ways of the Goddess, whether they know her or not. Finally, justice has been done. You can't possibly understand what that means to us," she said exhausted.

I thought it seemed odd for her to put in so much effort in explaining something she claimed I couldn't possibly understand. From her emotions I could see that she needed to talk though it all. It seemed like the first time that somebody had spoken properly to me in years. How long had I been at the Hotel now?

I really wasn't comfortable struggling to understand all that she'd said and forming some sort of reply. It would be easier just to smile and nod and say 'yes mistress'.

"Who? What is the Goddess?" I asked instead, surprising myself with my initiative.

Lindsay smiled in a distant way.

"Maybe she doesn't actually exist. It doesn't matter. The idea of her is in us. She's ancient and new. Before I discovered her, I was a journalist: a writer, maybe even a good one. I guess you can't believe that either. Back in the ancient days, in prehistory, before the enemy killed the priestesses and put men in charge, the matriarchy chose the direction for society, choosing peace not war. The sacred king was the land and the people. If things went wrong then it could be fixed by sacrificing the king and getting a new one: a wholesome, strong and virile one. Basically, the priestesses of the Goddess ensured that she granted fertility, and if she didn't then they sacrificed the king to her".

"You must know something of the kings that reigned for a year and at the end of that time the best and strongest would contest against them to become king in their place? It didn't do to have a king that wasn't the 'best' you see? That would mean the king was corrupt, and if the king is rotten, the land is rotten. No? I can see you don't. It’s the same with us: if Number One is corrupt then we are rotting too. There has to be a sacrifice, there has to be a new strong leader."

"The priestesses were associated with snakes. Like Medusa in the story with Perseus: the snake mask was a symbol of the ruling priestesses. Statues of priestesses handling snakes were found in the Minoan Labyrinth. Eve was tempted by the serpent. It goes on and on, right back to the beginning. Number One is the living embodiment of the true power of the serpent."

I didn't know what sort of deranged king killing snake cult they'd had back on their Greek island, but that didn't seem to be how things worked in The Hotel now. In the world I was used to there were no snakes and none of this nonsense about ancient kings had anything to do with it. If I'd been following Lindsay's story up to this point, she totally lost me here. I'd never liked religion, new-age or otherwise. I wanted no part of this strange made-up cult that seemed absolutely irrelevant to dressing up in rubber and having a lot of sex.

"By the look on your face I guess you don't know enough prehistory or mythology to understand what I'm talking about. It doesn't matter really. The Goddess is that same ancient force of fertility that women revered all those years ago. She changes shape and sends the snakes to speak to us from days long ago and places far away. If you'd initiated as a maid you would have felt the power of the universal serpent. The Goddess must tame the reptile, and then it brings her pleasure. That's the first mystery of the Goddess. That is more than most people understand. I'll show you properly one day. Don't worry my pet; you'll still be initiated into the mysteries of the Goddess, even if you aren't a maid."

There was no doubt in my mind that her talk of snakes, crazy religions and 'pre-history' confirmed my original theory that she and her conspirators were dangerous power-crazy cranks. They were also in complete control of me, so it was probably my fate to end up a crank too. It left me feeling sick and drained.

"Once we have things under control, I'll be leaving here. I'll take you with me and we can go back out into the world," she said. “I think I’ll call you Gayle. How do you like that for a name?”

She seemed to find her naming suggestion extremely funny, despite it being an extremely weak German pun.

"Mistress, it's hard to understand all this," I said, perhaps pushing my luck.

"You mean hard to believe don't you?" She laughed. "Don't worry Gayle my pet. You won't have any choice. You really don't have to worry about deciding what is true or who to follow. The choice has been made for you. Just accept it and you'll be happier sooner," she said.

The last part sounded like something the housekeeper would have said. It made me think. Unlike the housekeeper, who followed an inexorable, insistent and ultimately logical system of reasoning, Lindsay seemed prepared to demand that I believe any old rubbish. It didn’t really surprise me though, because I had been convinced days ago that she was completely bat-shit crazy.

I was dubious that Lindsay was being completely truthful, and she certainly wasn't sane. She could go off and fuck with snakes all she liked, I wanted none of it. I didn't like the idea that she was going to force her demented value system onto me. I guessed it would probably happen much as she described though. What could I do to stop her? A few weeks of tortures and rewards and I’d probably be spouting her entire delusional creed on command.

When I'd heard the housekeeper mention initiation as a maid, I'd been imagining something like a session where I had hot wild sex with all the maids at once. I'd thought that at worst it would be reversed and I would have to pleasure all the maids with my tongue until I was exhausted. Now, if Lindsay was to be believed, it seemed neither of those possibilities was likely. I felt cheated. The foremost thing that kept teasing at my consciousness, and that I didn't know how to interpret, was her comments on their 'paradise'. I was sure that Number One had used a word like that. There seemed to be some meaning to this somewhere, just outside the edge of my muddled thoughts, but I couldn't see what shape it was yet.

Another thing I couldn't easily accept, was the idea of Number One running off and leaving everyone else to die. I didn't believe she would do that. I didn't really know her well, but she'd made an instant and strong impression. I just couldn't believe she was as bad as Lindsay made out. She was just a fragile looking unearthly woman in a rubber dress. I found it rather easy to imagine her hiding fearfully when things started exploding and bullets started flying. She didn’t look to me like a commando or a martial artist, what could she have done anyway?

However, Lindsay hadn't been overwhelmingly vicious to me yet, there was at least that to be thankful for. I had expected her to treat me very badly from the beginning, given her history, but so far all she'd done was hurt my nose. My face was still aching but at least she hadn’t mutilated me any further. Even if she hadn't done it directly, she'd already stamped her mark on my body and reinforced it with steel. I feared it was only a matter of time before she did the same to my mind, but at least she didn't seem inclined to start right away.

As if in response to this thought, Lindsay seemed to recover from her latest bout of hysteria and came over to inspect me. She stood very, very close to me, but not quite touching. I felt myself moving subtly, almost without realising it, trying to keep a minimum distance between us of an inch or so. It felt like a relief when she stood in front of me, took my head in her hands and pulled my mouth to hers. I felt her lips press against mine, then the wetness of her tongue; her teeth brushing my lip; the tip of her tongue invading my mouth. I was thankful for the solid sensation.

Her breasts bulged against my chest, large, hot and warm. I could feel her nipples, harder than flesh ought to be, brushing against me. I felt the heat between us, I felt myself pressing back against her as hard as I could. Her tongue seemed to invade and explore my mouth, penetrating me. Her lips pressed hard against mine. She moved away a fraction, the scent of her hot breath washing across my face. Someone moaned with desire. I realised it was me.

I found I was gasping for breath, my penis hard erect, the tip weeping. My heart pounded in my chest. She slid her hand down my back, my spine tingling. As it touched my buttock I twitched. When she pushed back against me for another kiss, I felt my longing achingly hard. I was desperate to cum. If she brushed against me the wrong way I would spurt. I leaned forward as much as I could, but the chain pulled me up short by the nose. I leaned into the pain until it took my mind off my cock.

She stepped back, smiling. "Time for your new outfit my pet," she said.

"Thank you mistress," I said.

The first item of 'clothing' consisted of a large and unwieldy pair of clear plastic domes. These were attached to a rubber tank-top that zipped closed at the back. Around the edge of each dome I could feel a raised seal ring of very soft rubber that pressed firmly into my chest.

Over this she fitted me with a stretchy but very tight fitting, open crotch, black rubber cat suit. It was made of rubber a little thicker than my skin suit had been. It had no hood, gloves or feet and could be zipped closed with a zip on each shoulder. She left it unzipped for now. There were two small holes in the front of the suit, which allowed a short protuberance to poke through from the centre of each dome, creating the appearance of metal machine-gun nipples on giant and unrealistic robot breasts.

Over this she fitted me with a thick rubber underbust corset. My old corset had been of an overbust type, but I couldn't imagine the corset made to cover up those two giant domes. The new corset was tight but relatively flexible, and I thought it more comfortable than my punishment corset. It lacked the restrictive crotch and shoulder straps, and seemed easy to wear and move in by comparison. Next she added black rubber stockings with built in suspenders that hooked to my corset, followed by black five inch heeled boots, which zipped up on the outer edge, and were then locked closed. This was the first time I had actually had clothing locked onto me in such an obvious way. It gave me a subtle thrill to think of it.

Once I was locked in my boots, she buckled a heavy black rubber cuff with attached d-ring to each ankle and then connected the rings with a short metal bar. My legs were spread about two feet apart. Walking would be difficult. The addition of the boots was an unnerving relief to me. Barefoot, I could no longer put my feet flat down on the ground without considerable pain, and it was exhausting to stand on tiptoe unassisted. With the high-heeled boots supporting my feet I felt much more comfortable even if my toes were crushed once again. The heels were lower than I was used to, and it felt almost relaxing to have some weight on the ball of my foot and some on the heel. I had become used to balancing on the tip of my toes.

She added a pair of long sleeved black gloves and then cuffed my hands behind my back – using heavy stainless steel cuffs that hinged rather than having a chain. They allowed comparatively little movement and chafed uncomfortably at my wrists. This done, she unclipped the 'ring' from my nose. It was nothing more subtle than a circular, spring-loaded snap-clip that one might use on a safety line or similar. I was now free to attempt my escape. I knew better than to try. I watched Lindsay ready a full head and shoulders hood with generous holes for eyes, mouth and nostrils. The hood was of fairly heavy rubber, had no zip and was a stretch fit. She showed it to me carefully before preparing to put it on.

"Take a deep breath now, it might take me a while to get this in position," she said.

I did my best, but my new corset was no more inclined to allow me a deep breath than my old one. I was plunged into rubbery darkness. I felt the tightness of the rubber over my face, squashing my nose flat against my face and cutting into my mouth. I felt fingers pinching at my face, grabbing at and slipping on the rubber. I tried to take a breath: some air escaped indirectly through an eyehole with a farting sound, but it was impossible to inhale. I felt the hands tugging the hood into place, the rubber painfully sliding over my skin.

An eyehole slipped into place, and then I felt the neck of the hood close tight around my neck. I dared to exhale a little more of my air. The escaping air partially inflated the hood and then slowly escaped with a hiss. I tried to breathe in again before it was all gone. I was telling myself over and over not to panic, not to panic. The hands were still working at the mask. Soon I would feel the rush of air into my mouth or nose, soon...

Lindsay continued to struggle with the tight rubber. I could see some light, but a blurred view. I couldn't hang on any longer. I breathed out again then quickly back in. There was almost no air left, and it had no life in it. My lungs were empty and beginning to burn. Suddenly, the mouth hole was yanked partially into place and I took a strangled gasp of air. After that my panic began to recede, though I was still terrified and breathless. The hood was of thick rubber and was a tight fit that squeezed my head really tightly. I was not surprised it was hard to put on and I didn’t want to think about how difficult it might be to remove. She tucked the extended shoulders of the hood down into my suit and then the shoulders and neck of my suit zipped up over the bottom of the mask, thoroughly sealing it in place.

My poor member was straining, erect, exposed, framed and displayed by the open crotch of the suit. I glanced down from time to time to look at it, but most of the time the huge, bulging, ridiculous looking breast domes obscured it from my view. She snapped the ring back through my nose. I was once again dangling from the chain, but now on five-inch heels.

"And now, the best part," said Lindsay, with an evil look on her face.

She produced a belt-like device made almost entirely of shining stainless steel, but lined and edged with soft black rubber. The belt part of the device wrapped tight around my corseted waist and closed at the front. Two chains hung from the back with another metal part attached. Lindsay lifted it up between my legs: it consisted of a curved plate with a tube attached parallel inside, facing me.

"I'm afraid we'll have to soften this up a little," said Lindsay.

She gripped the head of my penis tight with her fingernails. Awful pain shot through me. She continued to apply the pain until my erection melted. Lindsay pushed my still slightly turgid member into the metal tube and then lifted and eased the front plate into place, sliding the tube down in its slot until it locked with a click. The bottom edge of the tube was edged with soft rubber, and I felt it press tight against skin of my crotch where my penis joined my body. Now the crotch plate had been moved down it fit close against my groin. There was a small space allowed for my balls at the front.

Lindsay lifted and hooked the top of the crotch plate over a pin protruding from the front of the belt closure and fit a small round locking device at the front of the metal belt, making it all one piece. She then tried to reach beneath the front plate to see if she could get at my penis. I winced in pain as she stuck her nails into me. There was no way for her to get them fully underneath, let alone reach where my penis went into the tube. As for the tube itself, its rubber seal now pressed hard against my crotch and every part of my penis was sealed inside the tube.

"That seems suitably pet-proof for now," said Lindsay.

It did seem unlikely that I could subvert this horrid chastity device. I really didn't like what this indicated for my future. I needed to cum soon or I would... Well I didn't know what I would do, but I would certainly be frantic for release.

To my surprise, I was uncuffed again, but only so that what looked like a loose jacket with thumbless mittens could be slipped onto me. My hands were pushed down into the sleeves. The mittens were lined with high impact foam: my hands were utterly useless. Lindsay quickly zipped the jacket up at the back, closing buckles at the neck and at the base, pulling it tight around my waist. The jacket had openings for my breast domes to poke through. Even so, it was a good thing the jacket was designed to be loose, as the plastic domes on my chest were massive and it strained to contain them because it couldn’t constrict the domes as it would have done soft breasts.

There were d-rings on the ends of the padded mittens, but she buckled heavy rubber cuffs onto my wrists, which also had d-rings attached. With the cuffs in place, even if I stretched the arms of the jacket there was no way I could get my hands out of the mitts. Lindsay then produced a heavy rubber harness, which went over my shoulders, above and below my domes and around my waist. It buckled onto me at the front. My arms were then folded in front of me and my hands clipped down to my sides using the harness and d-rings on the end of the gloves. The result was a kind of tight, rubberised straitjacket. It left my shining chastity belt and breast domes mostly exposed. I was quite helpless, and very much in need of relief.

Alas, with my merciless metal chastity belt in place, there seemed little hope of any kind of release in my foreseeable future. Things looked dismal indeed. I could already feel my penis growing hard inside the tube. Once it reached a certain degree of erection I could feel it had no more room to grow, either in width or length: it was desperately frustrating and uncomfortable without creating real pain. Lindsay stepped back a few paces to admire her handiwork.

"Perhaps if the housekeeper had made sure you were in one of these from the beginning, you wouldn't be in this mess now, hmm?" She laughed to herself. "It's not like her to make a mistake like that."

Then she wandered off somewhere behind me, probably in search of more equipment to further humiliate and restrain me; I could only guess.

After a while, Lindsay sidled up behind me and cupped the tips of my giant breast domes in her hands.

"Now pet, you can have a chance at an orgasm if you beg me to fuck you up the ass - or you can choose not to beg and not have it. It might be the last one you get for a while, so you should probably take whatever you can get," she said indifferently.

I felt her fingers fiddling with the tips of the breast cups. My eyes angled down to see what she was doing: she had connected tubes to the end of them. I heard a click and a whirr, followed by a sucking sensation on my chest. At first it was vaguely pleasant and stimulating, but as it continued it began to become increasingly uncomfortable.

08.08.10