Hand-Maid by Local Producers

"One is never so dangerous when one has no shame, than when one has grown too old to blush." - Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade

-Part 0: Thursday, 10:30 AM-

There was no shame in the eyes of Vince as he was roused from slumber. There was no sadness or heaviness in his heart as he was removed from his box. Vince was "Victoria," and he was happy. Vince had thoughts of course; deviant and subversive thoughts against his mistress. However, said Vince to nobody in particular, "This is a golden opportunity. Surely staying for just a few days would not hurt..."

-Part 1 Wednesday, 7:00 PM-

"Bring it in, post-haste. I have waited long enough."

Phantom was a supervillainess. Or villainess. Anti-heroine didn't quite fit, and it always made her think of some sort of drug education program. That did not seem right.

She had elevated herself to the level of her classic idols; the heroes and villains she heard so much about. Spandex and fanciful outfits; over-the-top action and emotions; dramatic activity and constant peril... When she was growing up, she pored over every tome and every piece of information about history. Everyone from Achilles to Napoleon to Sappho; history was fascinating.

Perhaps it wasn't all that fascinating, she thought; perhaps it only shone by comparison. Phantom came from the far future, a post-singularity Earth where humans had long since ascended to a higher state. It was also dreadfully boring. The costumes were drab. The emotions were subdued. The people had no drama in their lives. What a waste.

And so, she had come to the past - to the early 21st century. And it was here that she indulged in every pleasure she desired; and when she felt generous, she would "share" that same pleasure with others.

"I said, open it up." Phantom wore her signature white-and-black costume, silky black latex and a white "coat."  She crossed her legs, gloating as she sat in her penthouse.

The two henchgirls, wearing their signature armor and faceless masks, opened a large metallic crate, and unceremoniously dumped the contents onto the carpeted floor - a brown-haired, confused-looking man. His arms were gently tied behind his back with silk rope, and his mouth was stuffed with a bright red ball gag. 

"I do not normally accept people off the street, you realize. That would be foolhardy. Furthermore, kidnapping civilians - even ones that I take a liking to - is bad for business, and can lead to slip-ups."

"Besides, if I grabbed everyone I wanted, my home would be overflowing. No, I pick and choose; select grapes from the vine and enjoy them rather than consuming the entire vine. You are one of those grapes, my dear; sweet, delectable, and a beautiful color of red- primarily because you are blushing so."

Vince looked at his feet. The two henchgirls forced Vince to get to stand up.

"Your psychological profile - your proclivities, your kinks - made you the perfect target and the perfect slave. I do not want someone who I can break. I want someone who will resist such breaking - but even better, someone who wants to be broken."

She took his face in her left hand, squeezing his bulging cheeks slightly. She grinned, rubbing her gloved fingers over his face and turning his head to the left and right, inspecting her prize.

"Yes, you. Let's take him to processing."

-Part 2 Wednesday, 2:00 AM-

It was 2:00 AM, and the night was still young for Phantom.

Vince, now deep in the bowels of Phantom's skyscraper lair, (or specifically at the top) stood somberly. Gagged and bound, he struggled lightly, testing the rope bonds that kept his arms so tightly wrapped. It was light bondage, to be sure. Light enough that it made Vince suspicious. This woman was ranting and raving about how much he - Vince - enjoyed being bound. It was true, although Vince would have never admitted it. Why, then, did she keep him like this?

Maybe it pleased her just to see him squirm in anticipation. 

"Anyway, Vince, your training starts tomorrow morning. You get equipped tonight.”

Vince was confused. He was standing in the middle of a bedroom.

“See you in the morning, slave.”

Vince felt the floor fall out from under him and in an instant he was falling.

There was a proverb here, thought Vince. Maybe something about “beware old people with too much time on their hands.” It could possibly have been “Anyone who is eccentric enough to do one thing crazy is eccentric enough to do a hundred more crazy things.” Yet, a proverb eluded him. The falling wasn’t really falling; it was a short slide, and Vince felt himself end some distance down.

The new room was windowless; a huge manufactory. No light shone in the room save a few overhead lights that dimly cast a glow on the dust that covered large machinery across the room.

The ground moved, and Vince, still on his back, felt a shiver go down his spine.

The ground was actually a conveyor belt. Every few feet, just as Vince would get the momentum and balance to roll off the belt or get to his feet, he felt a firm hand on his chest. He would look up, and see the gagged and hooded face of one of Phantom’s captives pushing him down, restraining him and keeping him immobile while another captive – often wearing demeaning clothing and gagged but otherwise free – “equipped” him.

At the first station, several “employees” held him down while another one stripped his clothing and threw it to the floor. He struggled as best he could, but the sheer force of the many employees kept him from mounting a very stiff resistance. There was certain eroticism here. Vince’s fantasies were coming true. He was surrounded by beautiful women, having his needs tended to and feeling the stupendous sensations of dozens of warm, gloved hands rubbing across his body.

At the second station, the women proceeded with the ‘logistics’ of Vince’s new outfit – cleaning. A rapid decontamination process left Vince feeling clean and fresh, but no closer to freedom.

At the third station, Vince felt himself immediately demasculated. The attendants had a chastity belt – a padded metal contraption that he felt locked around his waist and cock, keeping his shaft pointed up. The neoprene padding also contained a few tubes for waste, and worryingly enough also contained several vibrating electrostim pads.

At the fourth station, Vince was forced into a jet-black cat suit. His attendants, the bound and gagged employees, first handed it him and expected him to don it himself. When Vince obviously showed no signs of compliance, they simply took the easy and more fun route. Each of his arms and legs were held individually by an attendant while the final two worked his new compressing full-body prison across his body. Their eyes sparkled as they closed the zipper and they made happy gagged squeaks as they locked it in place. The catsuit went from his neck – thankfully – to his fingertips. The only gap was at the groin, where the advanced chastity belt kept his manhood imprisoned.

At the fifth station, Vince found himself introduced to a world of latex. It was more along the lines of neoprene, to be exact, though the thick material felt the same to Vince. Bright pearl-white elbow gloves became the rules of engagement, and a pair of knee-high “stockings” made of similar material became the rule of the day. Vince already could see where this was going. With every item added, he became more of a doll and more of a toy to be played with.

At the sixth station, Phantom herself was present. However, she seemed too proud of herself to say anything to her lowly “product.” Vince cursed her with harsh, vitriolic language as the nurses held him down.
The attendants produced his ‘uniform’. It was a bright pink apron that was halfway between a coat and a frilly smock. It was, of course, far too small for Vince. It was a chore to get it on, rubbing against the already fictive surface as they worked it over his arms and legs. However, Vince, bound as he was, felt pleasure. It was erotic pleasure, from the gear, from the kink, from the situation. How many times had he rehearsed this in his head? Honestly, it was too late to escape now. He knew it would be difficult to walk. Why not enjoy it?

Vince tried to snap out of his stupor.

At the seventh station, Vince began to moan to himself. It was uncontrollable. This was very convenient, as it was the gagging station. A neck-binding corset, pink with white trim, was the order of business at this station. It had a huge collar at the base and it went to the top of his neck. This special mouth corset also had a hefty open mouth plug gag, something that the “product” had not before contemplated but found a welcome addition as he began to reflexively suckle. “Mmphhh.” Vince’s coarse language and moans sounded the same.

At the same station, the attendants began with another corset. At this station in particular the attendants had to practically lie on top of him, breathing heavily as they laced it. It was large, going from his waist to the midpoint of his chest. Its white ribbed exterior covered the smock and marked where his nipples were with a pair of bright red hearts. The product knew he looked more like a toy by the second.

Station eight was the adding of frills, which were glued onto the different restraints. It was a purely aesthetic choice, but Vince almost admired it.

Station nine was the addition of the gloves and high-heeled boots that were now Vince’s standard attire. The sensation was gone; for a brief moment, Vince was lost in an ethereal and blissful haze.

Station ten’s loud clicking sounds snapped him back to reality. His thighs, his ankles, his wrists, and of course, his neck all now bore thick leather collars and cuffs. They each had D-Rings as well – in case Vince now needed to be leashed to something.

The collar read “Victoria.”

-Part 4: Thursday, 11:00 AM-

Training was intense, thought Vince. Victoria, perhaps?

Strutting around in her – his – her? – his high heels, thigh-high stockings, tightly compacted outfit that showed off his every curve, bondage mitts and of course the prominent collar and gag was actually hard work. The balance was difficult, and with these sensations it was all the harder.

The sensations… the sights and the sounds and the smells were a lurid disco of excess. Phantom showed him wondrous things and treated him like a child and a slave at the same time. She stooped to help him off the ground when he tumbled… and she was a cruel and harsh mistress at times, spanking, teasing, groping without mercy or care for what feelings Vince might express. (Though he did little in the way of verbal expression with the plug gag.)

After a half-hour of initial teasing, Phantom finally went a bit too far for Vince. One off-handed grab on his butt sent him into frenzy. He moaned and groaned, grinding his legs together and trying to show the intense burning and desire in his loins. Anything at all to show his new mistress the least bit of gratitude and express his needs would suffice.

And for once, Phantom listened… to a degree.

She ordered several of her employees and attendances back once more. Vince, thinking he was going to be re-dressed for ‘playtime’ found himself instead brought back to Phantom’s bedroom and unceremoniously placed on the bed. The same four attendants fastened the cuffs and D-rings to retractable notches in the walls, sending him into a highly vulnerable X-position.

Phantom edged closer. Vince squirmed.

Phantom sat on the bed. Vince moaned.

Phantom began to slowly position herself on top of Vince. He convulsed, curling his toes.

She let her legs rub against his. Vince practically came.

She stroked his inner thighs and stroked his ego at the same time. And then, just as Vince was at the edge of climax, she spoke.

“Do not fear to be eccentric in opinion, for every opinion now accepted was once eccentric.”

Vince smiled and came.

09.04.12