Who Owns Who

“Well? Tell me you have something this time.”

Leaning back in her chair, Laura Spalding gazed at the five men standing in front of her. Together, these men formed the research and development department of her small but very profitable company, FashionMax. Specializing in the unusual, Laura had made a name, and a fortune, catering to the fetish crowd. Now, she waited news on what could well be her crowning achievement.

“We think so,” replied Charles, department head. “We require a bit more testing, but we think we’ve got the last problem ironed out.”

“Explain.”

“Well,” Charles began, “as you know, the main trouble with quick-setting liquid latex is just that: it sets too fast. Dip a brush into it, and the brush is dry and unusable before you can even begin to apply. Also, the latex continues to form on whatever is placed within it, creating ever thicker layers until all of the liquid has set. Basically, this means that, within moments of a new batch being created, it has dried, becoming unusable and rendering whatever it’s in unusable.”

“I’m well aware of the problem,” Laura said impatiently. “What I want to hear is your solution.”

“Yes,” Charles replied. “Well, you did forbid us to do anything to slow the speed with which the latex sets up.”

“Of course I did,” Laura interrupted with a scathing tone. “If it doesn’t set quickly, we can hardly call it quick-setting, can we?”

“Exactly. We did, however, find a way to stop what we’ve come to call the runaway setting of the latex. By carefully manipulating the properties of our formula, we’ve managed to create something unique. This new formula will set up on contact with anything. Anything, that is, except itself.”

“And what does this accomplish?”

“First off, it limits the method of application. Brushing, spraying, are both impractical due to the speed with which the latex sets up. However, if something is immersed within the latex, it immediately forms a single layer on the surface of the immersed object. Once the layer is formed, the setting up stops. The remaining liquid cannot form against the already hardened layer.”

“So you can only get a single layer.”

“Precisely. That layer is only molecules thick, yet it is incredibly strong and resistant to damage. It cannot be torn, cut, or even peeled away from the surface to which it has bonded. So far, our tests also show it to be extremely heat and abrasion resistant.”

“We have also,” Charles continued, “developed a solvent that will allow the hardened latex to be removed. This solvent breaks down the structure of the latex, allowing it to be simply wiped off.”

“Sounds good. What about color?”

“At the moment, we are working with a black liquid. However I see no problem introducing any color we choose.”

“And it’s ready for testing?” Laura smiled. “Good. Proceed. I want this ready to patent as soon as possible.”

Charles glanced at his colleagues. “Actually,” he said, “we would like to apply for the patent ourselves. We did, after all, develop this formula. That makes it our intellectual property.”

Laura frowned. “Irrelevant. You are all under contract to me. Anything you develop is mine.”

Jeffry, one of the others in the group, shook his head. “We developed it,” he said, “which means we own it.”

“And I own you.” Laura smiled coldly. “I suggest you read your contracts. Until those contracts expire, you belong to me.”

Laura laughed, a cold, mocking sound. “Be glad,” she continued, “that I prefer my men to be more on the submissive side. Otherwise, you would all be calling me Mistress and serving me in ways you couldn’t even imagine. Now, get out, and get started on the testing. I can already see the profits from my new formula.”

Stepping out of the shower, Laura paused, head slightly cocked to one side. One of the disadvantages of living over her business, she thought, was the strange sounds she sometimes heard. Still, building this luxurious apartment on the roof had been one of her better choices. It allowed her complete control over what went on in the small building. Besides, the view was beautiful, isolated as the place was within a forest, miles from any other structure.

There it was again. Laura frowned, trying to place the soft noise. Wrapping a towel around her naked body, she moved through her apartment, out the door and down the stairs into the building proper.

Slowly, she moved through the darkened building, homing in on the illusive sound. It came, she realized from the research area. Slipping through the door, she paused to get her bearings.

This room, the heart of her company, lay dark and silent before her. Rows of computers lined the windowless walls, tables and racks neatly arranged along the floor. In the center, she saw a large vat. The noise, still faint, seemed to be coming from there.

Carefully, she climbed a set of stairs to the top of the vat, which she found to be filled with a dark liquid. Cautiously, she peered into the inky darkness, looking for the source of the sound.

Suddenly, her towel was whipped from around her body. Before she could react, she felt a hand between her shoulder blades, shoving her forward. Her foot slipped, and she tumbled over the edge.

Desperately, Laura closed her eyes, pressing her lips together at the same time, just as she hit the surface of the liquid filling the vat, sinking quickly. Unable to breathe, she struck out frantically, no longer sure which way was up.

Vaguely, she felt something slip beneath her arm. Desperately, she grasped the slender rod, holding tight as she felt herself drawn somewhere. Nearly starved for air, she had not strength to resist as something stretched her out on her back on a hard surface.

Nearly unconscious from lack of air, she felt something press against the bottom of her nose. Suddenly, air rushed in as whatever blocked her nose was removed. She gasped, breathing as deeply as she could.

As her body recovered from its bout with oxygen deprivation, Laura realized that something was still wrong. Her lips, she discovered, were sealed closed, as were her eyes. Also, she could feel something in her ears. Indeed, her whole body seemed to be covered with… something, rendering even the feel of whatever it was she lay on slightly muffled.

Suddenly, she stiffened. The latex! Someone had shoved her into a vat of the new formula. But who? And why?

Laura felt something brushing against her breasts, covering both firm globes completely. Next came a somewhat stronger touch, and she suddenly realized she could feel some kind of cloth against her skin. The process was repeated between her thighs.

The solvent, she thought. Someone is removing the latex. But why there? Why not start with her head?

The sense of being touched vanished, leaving only the feel of whatever it was she lay on. Laura could feel a soft breeze against her breasts, against her crotch. Unbidden, an image flashed into her mind. It was her, covered in glossy black, only her breasts and crotch exposed. Puzzled, Laura tried to pull the latex from her, but her encased fingers could get no purchase.

Now, she felt herself drawn to her feet. She felt something pass between the center of her lips, her tongue exploring what seemed to be a straw. She tried parting her lips, but they remained sealed.

More solvent, she realized, placed in a small area to allow the straw to be inserted. The straw was withdrawn, and she hummed through the small hole, her sealed lips rendering her demands and questions into unintelligible sounds. Her pleas, as well.

“Now,” she heard, the sound muffled by the latex over her ears, “this is more like it.” Startled, she recognized Charles’ voice. “So you own us? Well, now we own you. It’s a good thing your assistant does all the actual work, even to the point of signing your name for you. Nobody will miss you that way.”

Desperately, Laura pulled away from the voice, only to halt after a single, stumbling step. She had no idea where she was, and less idea which way to go. Blind, mute, she could only stand, afraid of where her next step would take her. As she stood, Charles’ voice reappeared in her ear.

“We still,” she heard, “have a year on our contract.” Laura stiffened as she felt fingers slip between her thighs, lightly stroking her. “A most interesting year it will be, too,” she heard, feeling more fingers begin to lightly pinch both nipples, “with our very own sex slave. We may be forced by our contracts to serve you, but now you will also serve us. In a much more pleasant way, I might add.”

Desperately, Laura struggled to twist away, but she really had nowhere to go. Unable to see, unable to speak, she was totally dependent on others. And, feeling her nipples harden, her crotch begin to moisten under the attention they were receiving, she knew full well the price of that dependence.

Defeated, she did nothing to resist the hand that grasped her arm, leading her across the floor. As she was led up a flight of stairs that she knew led to her apartment, she considered her unique position as a sex slave who owned her new masters.

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