by Jo

This is part seven of Jane's story, a sequel to "The Fishbowl", "The Birthday Party", "Quality Time", "At the Club", "Weird and Wonderful", and "Epilogue".

They were sitting in the airport lounge. Jane was going to Florida, Geoffrey would swing through the Carolinas, get some face to face time with clients before joining her in a few weeks.

"Uh, Sir?"

She didn't have to call him sir, she wasn't on a leash, but sometimes it slipped out.


"When I spent the day with Cindy, well, we, uh, did things."


Jane nodded. Geoffrey sipped his drink, waited for her to continue.

"She had me clean her kitchen. Well, not clean it. Just chase a cloth over things. She had put cuffs on me and a ball gag and a pair of spring clamps on my nipples. And she had me wear pantyhose."


"Yeah. She just sat there reading the paper, not looking at me, but I knew she was watching me. And she'd light a cigarette and put it in the ashtray and when it burned down she'd light another. Weird."

"She quit a couple of years ago. Can't let go I guess."

"Yeah. But it was like she was topping me without actually doing anything."


"Then we went shopping and she made me steal a plum. I had to put it inside me, inside my pussy. And when I came out of the bathroom she said I was late and she would punish me."

Jane took a sip of her wine.

"Well, she did. She strapped me down and flogged me. Then she said if I made her come she wouldn't flog me anymore. So I ate her. Took forever. I don't know if it takes her a long time or I'm not that good at it or she was just messing with me, but it was like an hour. Then she pushed an electrode into my ass and pressed a vibe to my clit and told me I had to come four times or I'd get forty lashes. But every time I got close she zapped me. So I figured out how to lay almost still and quiet until it was too late."

"And you're telling me this why?"

"Well, I'm going to spend a few weeks with them. I mean, I didn't belong to you then, but what if she wants to top me now?"


"I mean ..."

"You're not on a leash." He shrugged. "It's your call."

"But ..."

"I don't care. I'm possessive, but not jealous. Unlike Cindy, it's not a turn-on to have my sub used by others. Not that I can't or won't."

Jane felt her cheeks flush.

"Anyway, she gave me Marge's slave name. I can use her any time I want." He shrugged again. "Not my thing."

"I don't think it's an elite club, Sir."


"Woman's intuition. I see Cindy sitting on her throne while a whole army uses Marge."

"That's between them, now, isn't it?"


Cape Coral is a suburb of Ft. Myers. Jane took a cab from the airport. She thought it odd that her friend didn't meet her.

There was a housing boom several decades ago, then things went bust. A huge part of the town is largely empty. There are streets and driveways, but not a lot of houses. Often all that's left is the model. And that's where the cab delivered Jane. A low slung thing surrounded on all sides by acres of nothing.

You could scream and no one would hear you.

Jane frowned.

Now where the hell did that come from?

Jane rang the bell, the door swung open, she took a half step back.

What met her at the door looked other-worldly, a grotesque caricature of a maid completely covered in shiny, black rubber. There was a hood with holes for the eyes and nostrils. And those were the only bits of flesh Jane could see. It looked like she had on some kind of rubber catsuit. Over it she wore a maid dress, not a French maid thing, this was almost a hobble skirt, but maid-like, complete with lacey, white trim. She even had one of those doily things on her head. She had on a wide collar and cuffs on her wrists and ankles, black high heel shoes on her feet.

Jane now knew why Marge hadn't met her at the airport. At least she thought it was Marge. Truth be told, she wasn't a hundred percent sure it was a woman.

The rubber maid took a step back and opened the door further. Jane stepped into the foyer. She took Jane's bag, set it aside and led her down a hall.

It was a deja vu moment. Cindy was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, cigarette burning in the ashtray.

"Ah! Jane!"

Cindy stepped over to her. Jane expected the cheek bump, air kiss thing, but Cindy took her face in her hands and kissed her full on the mouth, even slipped in a bit of tongue.

"You must be tired from your flight."

""No. No, not really."

"Oh? Well, then, as long as we have some free time ..."

Cindy led the way to the guest room. There was something, some things on the bed - a corset, some straps, and some rubber things she couldn't identify. The maid stood off to the side.

"Get undressed."

Hello, how was your flight, strip?

Jeez Louise.

Jane kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned her skirt, stepped out of it. She pulled off her top. Geoffrey had allowed her to wear underwear. Why? Who knows. Jane shrugged out of her bra and pulled her panties down and off.

The maid was holding up a black shaft, in the next instant Jane realized it was two shafts, and in the next it dawned on her that it was a pair of rubber underpants. She was going to be plugged front and rear.

Jane wasn't big on anal, not unless it was part of a scene. Then it felt all right, sort of. She had a boyfriend who used to like to fuck her ass and she did it, but she avoided it when she could. Geoffrey plugged her, not often, but often enough for Jane to be comfortable with it. Even though it wasn't technically part of a scene, he kept her collared and cuffed, so there you go.

The maid drizzled something slick on her hand. Jane opened her legs. The maid slid her fingers between Jane's lips, probed and entered Jane's ass.

Marge, I hope that's you.

Jane stepped into the pants, the maid pulled them up. They were snug and it took a bit of squirming. A few more tugs and the shafts were poised to enter her. The maid pushed them in, front and rear, a centimeter at a time. Jane pulled on the pants.

It's one thing to have something enter your pussy, and another to have something push its way into your ass, but both at once? Jane grunted, resisted the urge to curse.

The maid dusted Jane's legs with powder. She held out what looked like rubber leggings with the ends sealed. She helped Jane step into them. Like the underpants, they were tight. Jane was amazed that the rubber stretched enough to accommodate her. Not that Jane was all that big, but this thing looked child-size.

The top came next, a long sleeve thing complete with fingers. The maid rolled down the waistband of the leggings, smoothed the hem of the top down across her belly, then tugged the waistband back up into place just below Jane's breasts. The rubber on rubber made a kind of seal she realized.

Jane looked down. Nothing but smooth shiny rubber. The corset came next. The maid slipped it around Jane's waist and laced it - tight - real tight.

The maid picked up the rubber hood.

"Just a moment."

Cindy produced a set of ear buds and pressed them into Jane's ears.

"Okay. Continue."

The maid pulled the hood over Jane's head. It had a wide, flaring neck. The maid tucked it into the neckline of the rubber top.

Except for the opening for her mouth and the two holes for her nostrils, Jane was totally encased in slick, black rubber.

Something bumped her lips. Jane opened her mouth. A rubber ball was wedged behind her teeth, straps buckled around her head. At first she thought it was a basic ball gag, but the thing went completely into her mouth and she could feel the wide panel covering her lips.

A collar came next, followed by cuffs for her wrists and ankles. Her wrists were pulled behind her back and fastened. Her ankles likewise attached.

A strap encircled her wrists and was buckled. Another forced her elbows painfully close. Another wrapped around her waist pinning her arms to her body. A second just below her breasts.

She was eased down onto the bed.

Jane felt her ankles, then knees strapped together. Her legs were bent and yet another strap was set it place binding her ankles to her thighs.

There was a bit of tugging as she was positioned on the bed.

Music filled her ears. Some kind of new-age thing. One of those lyrical melodies that doesn't seem to go anywhere. It had a soft, dreamy quality.

Then the shafts sprang to life.

Jane convulsed - or convulsed as much as she could bound as she was. The vibes were adjusted until it felt like her whole pelvis was vibrating in synch.

Jane came. Couldn't help herself. The vibes powered down to a gentle hum. Jane lay listening to the music for a while. Then they powered back up.

After her fifth orgasm, Jane fainted. She woke to gentle vibrations and soft music. And so it went.

What started pleasantly enough soon became torment, then torture. She was a slave to the shafts embedded inside of her - and they were relentless. Gut-wrenching after gut-wrenching orgasm tore through her. Her emotions ran from anticipation, to trepidation, to panic, to outright terror. She ended up in a state of helpless acceptance. Not even acceptance. There was, well, nothing. She was no longer aware of the music. No longer felt the orgasms.

I'm sorry, but Jane has left the building.

Jane resurfaced. The music had stopped, as had the vibrators. She was being tugged at and she realized the straps were being removed, then the gag, then the hood. She blinked up at Marge. Jane's head swam.

"Oh God," she whispered.

Marge didn't respond, couldn't because she had a strip of tape over her mouth, another under her chin. She was naked except for a pair of black heels.

She led Jane into the bathroom, kicked off her heels, and helped Jane into the shower. Jane was limp, so wrung out she could hardly stand. Back in bed she promptly fell asleep.

Jane slept nearly around the clock. She woke the next morning groggy and ravenous. Marge was there dressed in a blue latex French maid, minidress complete with lacey apron and the obligatory black heels. She had blue hose and blue, latex gloves. She had a large blue ball jammed in her mouth.

The black-clad maid walked in. Jane blinked, startled. The maid nodded. Marge led Jane into the bathroom, waited while she peed, splashed some water on her face, ran a comb through her hair. Marge handed Jane a robe.

Out in the kitchen the maid fixed a plate of food for Jane and left. Marge sat with her while she ate. Her head cleared as her stomach filled. She wanted to talk to Marge, but wasn't in the mood to play 20 questions with her gagged friend. Cindy walked in.

"Good morning."


"Good morning, Mistress," Cindy corrected.

"I belong to Geoffrey."

"In my house you will submit to and obey me."

She snapped her fingers and pointed at the floor. Jane was kneeling before her brain could register the fact.

"Now, let's try it again."

"Good morning, Mistress."

"Better. Enjoy your breakfast."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

Again the words spilled out before her she realized it.

"Marge, remove the gag. You may have a free day since Alan is here."

A half hour later, breakfast eaten, dishes washed, Marge gave Jane a tour of the house. It was your typical Florida home, spacious, airy, open. The door to Cindy's office was closed, but Marge led Jane through the rest of the rooms. The air was filled with more of that lilting music and a hint of jasmine.

"So, what do you want to do?"

"Honestly? I'd like to go back to bed."

"Yeah, well, you can't. Alan's here for his training."

"Not the maid. Please, not the maid."

"Yeah. His Domme feels he needs to broaden his horizons. That was one of the reasons we had to tuck you away, as it were. Mistress prefers to do her training in private."

"Where were you?"

"I was there. Who do you think had control of the vibes? A bit over three hours. Whew. I got a cramp in my thumb pressing that damn button."

Marge held up a bit of white cloth.

"Here. This should fit." She was holding up a bathing suit. "Might be a bit snug on top."

"Well, I'm used to that."

Jane stripped, slipped on the suit, and, yes, it was snug. She dug a skirt and t-shirt from her bag, stepped into a pair of flip flops.

"What's up with the music."

Marge shrugged.

"Dunno. It's just something she likes. Speaking of which, here. A gift from Mistress."

Marge handed Jane the iPod, showed her how to use it. Jane popped the buds into her ears. It was the same music. Well, not exactly the same, but the same genre. It wasn't her thing, but she found it oddly soothing.

Jane dozed in the car, dozed some more on the beach.

Later, with Marge once again dressed in blue latex, Jane found herself hanging by her wrists, well not hanging, but stretched pretty tight. She wore a long, sheer, yellow latex dress. She was gagged with a basic, red ball gag.

As Marge dressed her the latex on latex scritching sent a shock through her body. Like nails on chalkboard, but instead of it being annoying, it gave her a feeling of vertigo. She felt her mind slip sideways, empty. And when Cindy came into the dungeon she felt a thrill run down her spine.

Cindy was dressed in black leather, a simple, sleeveless, black leather minidress. She had on black heels. Nothing else, not even jewelry.

She stepped over to a kneeling Marge and stroked her hair. She whispered something to Marge. Marge stepped over to the wall and came back with a quirt. Cindy circled Jane, stroking her, running her hand over Jane's tits, over her ass. And then she spanked her.

The blows were of middling force, very much like a firm spanking. She would strike Jane once or twice, then circle her, stroking and groping her. She ran her hand down Jane's belly. The tight rubber dress prevented her from probing Jane's sex, but that made it all the more maddening. She squirmed and whimpered at Cindy's touch.

"I spoke with Geoffrey today."

That brought Jane around instantly.

"He said you had mixed feelings about submitting to me. I told him you had and he's given me permission to advance your training."

Jane didn't know what "advance your training" meant, but she nodded.

Cindy circled her a few more times laying on another dozen or so lashes. Slap and stroke, slap and stroke, around and around. She set aside the quirt and sat in her chair. A man came into the room.

At first Jane thought it might be Alan, but, no, his shoulders were broad and he was taller, even barefoot, than the rubber maid.

He was wearing a pleated leather skirt, kind of like a kilt. He wore boots and he was bare-chested. The guy obviously spent a lot of time in the gym.

He gave Cindy a curt nod and walked over to Jane. He ran his hand over her body, over her tits, down to her belly, back to her ass. Jane thought he might release her, throw her to the floor, ravage her.

Oh, yeah.

But, no, he turned his attention to Marge.

He grabbed the girl's wrist, hauled her to her feet. He dragged her before Cindy, pushed her to the floor.

There was a pile of leather straps next to Cindy's chair. He picked them up, shook them out. Jane couldn't figure it out until he started to fasten them to Marge's arms and legs, wrists and ankles. They were connected to a ring. He stepped to the wall, thumbed a switch, lowered another ring from the ceiling, clipped the two rings together. He pressed the other switch and Marge was hoisted into the air.

She spun slowly as she was raised. Jane could see she wore no underwear. The man stopped Marge's rotation, stepped between her legs, thrust into her.

Jane couldn't see too well, the show being, obviously, for Cindy's entertainment. Whether intercourse or sodomy Jane couldn't tell. But given Marge's frantic struggles, her squeals and grunting gasps, Jane suspected the latter. She was, after all, technically still a virgin and Cindy took pride in that.

Things took a definitely vanilla turn over the next several days. She and Marge went gown shopping. Jane chose a high-neck thing that hid her chain collar. Her mother insisted. They had words, but Jane held firm. It was a gift from Geoffrey and she would wear it. A couple of days later they flew south, spent a few days with her folks. When her mother saw the gown she approved, albeit grudgingly. Marge organized a bridal shower. It was good to see her friends again.

It was pretty much ordered chaos, but all of the arrangements had been made and it was mostly the obligatory last minute panic scene. The whole time she felt antsy. The music on the iPod calmed her, took the edge off the high drama at home. She was glad to be back at Cindy's place once again.

Cindy tied her, gagged her, clamped her nipples and pussy. Jane knelt, eating Cindy's pussy while Marge sodomized her with a strap-on.

A few days later Jane found herself, once again, encased in latex, shafts embedded front and rear, enjoying soft music and enduring unendurable pleasure.

One night Cindy had guests and both Jane and Marge were the rubber maids, milling about, serving drinks and nibbles.

It all felt so, well, so natural, so normal. When Geoffrey used her it had a bit of something, something special. But with Cindy it was just another day in the dungeon.

The music starts, the doors opened, Jane is led into the church. She is wearing a white latex veil that covers the lower half of her face. Beneath it there is a strip of latex glued to her lips. The white latex veil on her head is draped over her shoulders and hangs down past her ass. The white, rubber corset has no bra cups and Jane's tits hang free. Her white latex skirt has an inverted V slit exposing her from the waist down. She wears white latex panties and hose. On her feet are a pair of white shoes. Around her neck is a wide white collar. There are matching cuffs on her wrists and ankles. She is crawling, being led down the aisle on a leash, her pendulous tits swaying in time with the music.

In another deja vu moment, Jane is in the grocery store, she has a small piece of fruit in her hand.

"In her ass, Marge. Go help her."

Jane and Marge share a stall in the bathroom. Jane bends over. Marge presses the small, hard fruit to the brown rosette of Jane's anus. It pops in easily. Jane has spent a lot of time with things in there lately.

Unlike the little, finger-like plugs Geoffrey used on her, Cindy has opened her up, literally, to bigger things.

Yesterday, Cindy fitted both Jane and Marge with leather harnesses, collars, cuffs, bridles, and hooves. The hooves felt like the highest of high-heel shoes, sans heel. Both girls had tails - large rubber plugs with a cascade of hair. When Jane saw it she almost backed away. The thing was huge. But over the past week, Cindy had introduced her to several objects, each progressively larger, until inserting the tail plug brought barely a grunt. It felt as you'd imagine, with a large mass stuffed in there, but it felt, in an odd way, perfectly normal.

Cindy fastened Marge to the cart, hitched Jane's bridle to the bar at the rear. Jane hadn't been trained to pull a cart, could barely keep up, what with the hooves and all, but Cindy took them several times around the 'neighborhood'. In the distance, cars rolled by, but none drove in. And what would Jane had done if they had?

Jane spent most mornings learning to be a pony girl. Cindy would fasten a long lead to Jane's collar and stand in the middle as Jane circled her, whipping her lightly, forcing to raise her knees until her thighs were parallel to the ground, learning to do it faster and faster until the gait seemed totally natural. Cindy allowed her a bra of sorts. A leather harness that both supported, yet still exposed her breasts.

On the third day, Cindy fastened Jane to the cart, locked her wrist cuffs to the bars. Harnessed, but otherwise unfettered, Marge trotted alongside. It felt good. Jane was proud of herself. She had made the circuit of the back 40, managed to not trip, or worse, dump the cart. Cindy petted her like the good pony she'd become. And Jane flashed on the image, the feeling of the bit in her teeth, the tug on the reins, and Geoffrey sitting in the cart behind.

The days passed. They had a Zen-like quality. Jane had been to a Zen center once, spent the week because her boyfriend was into it. Within two days she was on auto pilot. Jane had checked 'Jane' at the door. There was no 'Jane', just bow and chant and sit. She felt that way now.

Pony practice days, nights in latex in the dungeon, being bound, eating pussy and being eaten, being bum fucked - it all became part of Jane's new reality.

If there was one thing missing, it was Geoffrey. Cindy had men in the dungeon a couple of times, but it was Marge who got their attention and Jane had an overwhelming urge for cock. Any cock. Well, okay, Geoffrey's cock, but at this point any cock would do.

She couldn't remember her name! The effort gave her vertigo, made her stomach flip. The girl was there, her friend Marge. And Mistress. Her owner, Geoffrey wasn't there. She tried to call out to him, but she couldn't speak his name. She tried. The word wouldn't come out. She had no family. Every attempt at recall brought on a wave disorientation, dizziness.

"What have you done to me?"

"You are Geoffrey's pet. I've simply made you more pet-like."

She shook her head trying to process that.

"Do you like being his pet, being collared, being owned, pleasing him?"

Just the ideas filled her with a sense of warmth tinged with a bit of sexual desire. She nodded

"Yes, Mistress."

"And the one thing you want, the only thing, is to be his pet."

She nodded.

"And so you are. I've removed everything that is not pertinent to that situation."

Jane leapt from the bed, marched down the hall, burst into Cindy's bedroom.

"What did you do to me?"

Cindy rolled over, pulled the sleep mask from one eye, stared up at her, sat up.

"What did you do to me!"

"Conditioned you to be a more appropriate pet."


"The music, Dear. Subliminal, hypnotic messages embedded in the music, now embedded in your brain."

Cindy reached under her hair, plucked out the ear plugs.

"I can hear well enough with these in, but the subliminal part doesn't penetrate. Wouldn't do to have the trainer training herself, hm?"

Jane shook her head.


"I've reprogrammed you. I've stripped off a lot of emotional baggage. You want to be Geoff's pet. I've simply removed any barriers to that happy situation. I've also added a few conditioning aspects."

Cindy snapped her fingers and pointed at the floor. Jane dropped to her knees.

"That's one."

Cindy pulled a bit of latex from the nightstand draw, crumpled it, rubbed it in her hand. The scritching, snapping sound sent a wave of desire through Jane She could feel it, smell it, she wanted it, she ...

"A trigger. Geoff is into latex. Now, so are you."

Jane looked from Cindy's hand to her eyes. She was smiling down at her.

"But I don't remember anything."

"No, of course not. As I said, it's all subliminal. That first day when we encased you in latex, drove you, literally, out of your mind with the orgasms, we opened your mind. Planted the seed. Call it, in programming terms, installed the kernel, the core of your new program."

"The music in the house. The music on the iPod. Each sequence installed another program, created a new aspect of your new personality. Some, like the music you hear now, has a more general conditioning effect. The music on your iPod is more specific.

"Each is triggered a different way. The sound of latex, for instance, creates an overwhelming urge to feel it on your skin. The words 'would you like' triggers an automatic response to answer in the affirmative. Not only answer, but ask for, beg for whatever is asked."

Jane blinked at her.

"Would you like me to piss in your mouth?"

Jane thought the idea repugnant.

"Yes, Mistress, would you please piss in my mouth."

Jane opened her mouth and tipped her head back.

"All right, pet."

Jane blinked up at her. Cindy held out her hand and helped Jane stand.

"Another trigger. 'All right, pet' are the release words he gave you, the ones that took you out of leash mode. Now they're part of your more general conditioning. Since you've been here I've installed a menu of behaviors. I've taken Geoff's preferences, combined them with your own compatible traits, and made them part of what now makes you Geoff's pet. And, as I said, I've removed some baggage, any impediments to your becoming his perfect pet.

"Don't worry. This isn't the Stepford Wives. Now that you know that you have been conditioned, you'll be aware of the triggers. Yes, you'll react automatically, but you'll be aware.

"The fact that you came to me, confronted me is why I've decided to leave the conditioning in place. You're intelligent enough and cogent enough to understand the truth. If you hadn't come to me, I'd have given Geoff the triggers and he would have never used them and, in time, the conditioning would have faded. Hypnosis works that way. It fades unless reinforced. It's kind of a conditioned response - remove the conditioning, lose the response.

"Do you understand all of this?"

Jane nodded. "Yes, Mistress."

It felt good. It felt ... right. Though it kind of creeped her out that there were other 'Janes' in her head ready to pop out at a moment's notice.

"You're frowning."

"Am I? Sorry, Mistress."

"Listen, here's the deal. None of this happens without your consent. If you don't marry Geoff, he won't use the triggers. It's as simple as that. Your choice. You say, 'I do' and, to use another programming term, you reboot, not only as Geoff's wife, but as his perfect pet."


The music started. Jane's father led her down the aisle. At the altar he kissed her and gave her hand to Geoffrey. The ceremony proceeded as these things do.

"Do you, Jane, take Geoffrey to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love, honor, and obey, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?


Jane looked up at Geoffrey, looked over her shoulder at Cindy, turned back to the priest, nodded and said, "I do."

The End

Copyright© 2012 by Jo. All rights reserved. I welcome your comments. Email me at