The Mindbreakers

Ingrid knew that she might have ruined her chances of a job, an opportunity to get out of the squalor and misery of the last six months, in that fit of temper that afternoon. The miraculous letter had arrived in the morning and introduced a Mrs Petrak who wished to interview Ingrid about a job opportunity. But then she had to go to work and that bloody woman Rene just would have found an old newspaper at home “ Under the Lino”  and in it details and pictures of Ingrid at the trial two years ago.

 

“It’s only bloody her. “ Ingrid had heard her whispering to one of the other silly cows.

“ Her, the Nurse from Hell, the one who tortured all them poor girls at that sanatorium up north. “

She had heard the whispers continue with urgency and felt red heat of anger. This was it. They knew and now she could not even work in this stinking ABC with the foul stodgy food, cockroaches and mice and stupid, stupid cow staff.

 

When the woman joined her at the tea urn, she was silent and they had worked next to each other for twenty minutes in icy silence, Ingrid growing more angry by the moment, before she saw her chance and released a jet of boiling water onto the woman’s fat arm. She smiles at the memory.

 

But she had known she had to get out of the place immediately and that this little revenge had cost her the job and the wages for the week and as a result probably her grimy little bedsit. Not to mention the interview she would have to have with that loathsome cunt at the Probation Service.

 

She had left hurriedly, still wearing the grease stained uniform under her cheap coat and returned back to her squalid little bedsit. She had considered stopping off at the pub off licence to buy a Spanish Sauternes but when she opened her purse and considered the contents she abandoned the idea. The bloody place was closed anyway as was the pub, this country and its licensing hours!

 

When she got “ home “ – Ingrid always thought of this place as home within inverted commas – she rummaged through the loose drawer in the kitchen area and found half a bottle of cheap brandy, half full. She filled a mug with the medicinal smelling liquid and downed it in a moment or two.

Then it was a warm feeling in her belly and waves of emotion, dread about her future, giggles at the memory of the fat pig’s screams, pleasant memories of further back and other screams...................................

 

She fell asleep on the stained eiderdown and was woken by the sound of the telephone in the hallway outside her door. She stood automatically in the gloom and went to answer it but it was only when the cold of the receiver was on her ear that she recalled the afternoon’s events and suddenly felt a wave of sick fear in her stomach. The police?  The probation service? Whoever was calling it was unlikely to be good for her; she hopes it is for one of the other bedsits.

“ Hello.”

“ Miss Weiss?” The voice is that of a woman, thirties or forties, cultured but with some hint of accent.

“ Miss Ingrid Weiss?” Yes, the official way to name her, it is them.

“ Yes.” Ingrid sighs.

“ Listen very carefully Miss Weiss, the British police have taken an interest in your little contretemps this afternoon.”

Ingrid attempts to interrupt.

“ It was just.......”

“ Never mind that. The woman is in hospital with very severe burns and at the least you are likely to get a visit from her relatives when they find out your address, an unsavoury bunch who will be out for some form of revenge. At the worst you will be taken into custody  and may end up in prison again. It was stupid Ingrid.” The voice takes on an irritated emotion.

“ Who is this?” She finally asks.

“ I could be your next employer Miss Weiss, I sent you a letter three days ago, Stella Petrak? But your actions this afternoon have made the process of selection more difficult and more urgent.”

“ I have no idea what you are talking about.” Ingrid slurs, her mouth dry and sticky.

The next event jolts her into a new place, there is a silence and then in a strangely accented German the woman says.

 

“ The police for a woman named Ingrid Wechtel also are looking.”

 

The voice returns to cultured English whilst Ingrid shivers.

“ If you wish to be interviewed for a very lucrative job well suited to your talents Miss Weiss I suggest you bring your bag and anything at all  that might relate to this Wechtel woman or link you to her  and wait outside your house for me to pick you up, immediately. Leave everything else. Understood?”

Ingrid shivers again.

“ UNDERSTOOD?”

“ Yes, yes I understand.”

“ Ten minutes.” There is a click and the connection is cut.

 

 

Ingrid now returns to her room in total darkness. She considers putting a two shilling piece into the meter to bring light into the room but rejects the thought, she has made similar decisions before, the woman’s logic is solid,  she is leaving. She lights a candle and by its feeble light gets her bag and coat, there IS nothing related to Wechtel in the room, she made sure of that long ago. Nothing at all to keep her, the decision is made.

 

She tiptoes down the stars and very quietly walks out and into the street. It is, of course, raining and her thin cotton raincoat is no protection. On the other side of the road is a small black saloon car, it’s lights flash twice and Ingrid crosses the street and approaches, slightly bowing to see inside, the front passenger door opens.

 

“ Get in.” She slides in and puts her bag on the floor, inside it is warm and smells of leather, wood and a slight pungency that is familiar to her, then she turns to the woman in the driving seat. She is in her late thirties and heavily made up, pillar box red lips and thick platinum blonde hair lacquered and teased into an ornate chignon. She appears to be wearing a black, square necked dress in cotton and a matching shawl necked coat. Ingrid can see the fine glisten of rain on the shoulders, this is the woman who rang.

 

“ Nothing else? You are unlikely to return.”

Ingrid nods.

“ Nothing else.”

 

Stella starts the car and moves carefully out into the deserted street, Ingrid realises she does not even know the time, she glances at the warm yellow illuminated dials on the dash below and sees a clock. Eleven o clock,  late for Britain.

Ingrid is  aware that there is someone else in the car, she half turns to look behind her, sitting straight backed behind her is a girl in her early twenties or late teens. She is wearing a shimmering hooded green raincoat, tightly belted and is sitting with her  head bowed, hands in her lap. Ingrid looks at the folds of material which accentuate her small but pointed bosom, she cannot see the face.

 

“ My daughter Melanie.” The woman says softly, turning onto the main road.

The woman has either aged well or the girl is younger than she looks.............

“ Adopted.” Petrak reads her mind and supplies the answer.

“ I am taking you to my home where you will stay the night and for the immediate future. I will more formally interview tomorrow when you have had a reasonable rest and I have the final  information on you that I have requested. The process will not follow the usual pattern Ingrid, I will be assessing your every action and answer from this moment on. Obedience and intelligence are two of the key attributes I demand “

“ Can you tell me what the post is Mrs...”

“Stella, you may call me Stella. I will be giving you all the details later but it carries a salary of around four thousand pounds.”

Ingrid is shocked.

“ Per annum. Now be a good girl and rest, it will take about 45 minutes to get home and I wish to concentrate, a stop by the police might be seriously inconvenient.”

 

The tone is assured, the bait of a ludicrously high wage and then the threat of the law are effective. Ingrid is quiet, she does not know London well  and within minutes has lost all track of place or direction, her eyelids began to lower and she dozes in this muted, soft and comforting atmosphere.

 

She wakes as the car slows, sits up again in her seat as it turns into a gravelled drive past a high privet hedge. There is a distance before the house itself comes into view, a large building in the style the English call Mock Tudor, Petrak drives directly into the double garage set to one side of the house.

 

“ Melanie! The doors. “ She orders and the girl slides out from behind them and closes the garage doors with a slam, then walks down the side of the car and switches on a light. Stella revs the engine, switches off and gets out of the car, Ingrid follows.

She leads the way through a door into the house whilst the girl stands to one side, head bowed, as if terribly shy. Ingrid blinks in the light and feels warmth and the smell of comfort, carpets, dryness, food. This is a wealthy place.

 

Stella turns and shrugs out of her coat and there Melanie is to take it from her.

“ Now our guest child!”

“ Thank you.”

“ Bring the collar girl.”

 Ingrid is looking down at the shabby uniform and picking at spots of food on her skirt and Stella is smiling at her as the girl takes something from the wardrobe and then hands it to her mother.

She raises her eyes to see the older woman lower the hood of the mac to reveal an absolute beauty. A girl in her late teens with light blonde hair cut in a bob, fine features and a slim swan’s neck, which her mother is now enclosing in a very high, black leather collar. She turns to Ingrid.

“ A posture collar it is called. “ Stella explains with a smile as she tugs at the straps which fasten it at the back of the neck.

“ Keeps my girl’s head up, I am a believer in perfect posture and makes her even prettier, doesn’t it?”

The girl blinks a grudging assent as Ingrid stares at the brutal leather about the swan’s neck.

 

Finished Stella leans forward and pecks the girl on the cheek, then as if considering and deciding to go further she pulls her round towards her properly and kisses her with some passion. Ingrid watches and a slow smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as the woman very obviously forces the girl’s lips wide and her tongue enters her, gripping her upper arms painfully.

Stella pulls back and the girl mews in pain, she half turns and Ingrid can see she has her daughter’s lower lip tight in her clenched teeth, with flashing eyes she releases her grip and grins as she turns to Ingrid.

 

“ I apologise but sometimes I just have to have the slut.”

She smiles at Ingrid and that smile allows her to relax, Stella has shown something private of herself, a lesbian predilection and that allows her new guest to relax.

The girl blushes and would look at the floor in shame but the collar keeps her head erect and only her eyes half close in resignation

 

“ My guest will be hungry Melanie, bring those sandwiches and some coffee to the lounge, then when Miss has eaten you can show her to her room and help her get ready for bed.”

Ingrid looks at Stella sharply and sees the woman smiling as the girl leaves them. The first test has been passed.

“ You find my treatment of my daughter strange?” Stella inquires, Ingrid smiles.

“ Not at all, she is a beautiful object, quite stunning in fact. I envy you your control of her.”

 

The lounge is spacious, black leather sofas and armchairs, oatmeal carpet, No unnecessary fuss or ornament, merely some black and white fashion photographs of thin mannequins in coats and dresses enlarged and framed on the walls.

Stella waves Ingrid to sit on the sofa whilst she walks to a chromed steel desk  and takes a cigarette box from it.

“ Do you?”

Ingrid considers,

“ Not normally or recently Miss Petrak but I would enjoy one now.”

She takes a cigarette and Stella leans forward to light it for her, Ingrid embraces her hand in her own as if to steady it but feeling the softness of the woman’s skin, breathing in her perfume and aware of the hiss of her lined dress as she stands.

Noticing the attention Stella smiles and then strokes Ingrid’s hair.

“ Stella please, call me Stella” She emphasises.

 

The girl returns, carrying a tray which she sets down on the low table. On it are sandwiches and a pot of coffee and Ingrid realises a terrible hunger. The sandwiches are smoked salmon, a treat she has not experienced for years and the coffee is fine, Colombian at a guess.

She stubs out her cigarette and eats, watched by Stella who whispers something in her daughter’s ear before sitting herself.

 

“ I have told you that I have a job opening for you Ingrid and that the formal interview will be tomorrow. You will be needing clothes, what size are you?”

“ English size 14  Mis.....Stella, sometimes 16, my height you see. “

“ You are tall my dear but very well proportioned and with an exceedingly handsome face if I may say so. And of course with height comes strength”

Ingrid is flattered.

“ Shoe size? “

Ingrid gives all her details and Petrak notes them down at the desk. The supper ends with both women taking a cigarette and the girl, still in her mac, removing the cups and plates. When she returns she kneels at her mother’s feet and Stella strokes her shoulder.

“ You like her raincoat Ingrid?”

“ Yes Stella, it is rubberised silk yes? “

“Well spotted my dear!”

“ I have had similar in the past, the smell and the look is unmistakable...........they are practical.”

Stella grins.

“ Yes, as you say. Practical but they can be used for many things......................... I recall something from your trial notes..........a second.”

Ingrid flushes, she knows what the bitch is referring to, the bloody woman has notes from her trial?

Stella bends to opens one of the drawers to her side, rummages for a few seconds and then brings out a plain buff folder, she opens it.

 

“ Ah yes from the witness Nurse McLochlan..... “ I came in and saw her smothering the girl with her mac – it was rubber on the inside – and then she straddled the girl’s face. The girl was still strapped tight to the table but she sat right on her head. She told me she liked it when they struggled for breath, it made her feel ...............excited”

Ingrid looks at the carpet.

Stella laughs in amusement.

 

“ You misunderstand my reasoning for doing that Ingrid - this is  EXCELLENT! You suffocated her and her agonised attempts to breathe you used to masturbate. I must congratulate you, very inventive and JUST what I am looking for!”

Blushing despite herself Ingrid looks up sharply. Stella is sitting with the typescript in her lap beaming at her.

“ Really?”

“ OF COURSE, silly woman. There is no shame in your nature, you like hurting girls. That is perfectly natural......................and useful to me. That you are also familiar with rubber is a big bonus as you will see.”

 

“ Stand up Melanie My dear and show Miss Ingrid that I share her tastes.” The girl stands slowly, hands by her side.

“ Open the coat child and show Miss Ingrid your marks...............”

The girl obeys remaining looking straight ahead, unbuckling the belt and then undoing the buttons she opens the coat wide, she is naked but for a wasp waisted black silk corset which cinches her already small waist and the conical thrust of a black silk brassiere.

“ Turn around and show your back, remove the coat!”

The girl obeys, Ingrid gazes at the beauty of her small but fleshy buttocks with some lust. Her skin glistens with sweat  but across her flesh itself are scars, some deep and immediately visible  many more small and only apparent as Ingrid leans forward. The girl’s flesh has been mortified appallingly over a long period of time. Most obvious are the blue and yellow marks across the cheeks and the tops of the thighs.

 

“ Recognise the marks Ingrid?.”

Ingrid studies the discolourations and puts her fingers forward to touch the flesh.

“ Several instruments have been used...........by you?” She considers.

Stella nods.

“ Go on, what have I used?” A ghoulish quiz.

“ These are crop marks, the plaiting is evident on the grazes, these appear to be the cane, and this is a cat.”

Melanie shivers at her touch, suddenly Ingrid is very tired and she almost faints. She sways in her seat.

 

 

Stella stands.

“ Miss Ingrid is tired Melanie, help Mummy to get her to bed.”

Ingrid shakes her head.

“ I am sorry there has been such a lot and the cigarette and................”

Stella pulls her to her feet and encircles her waist with her arm.

 

Together Mother and daughter, both head and shoulders smaller than Ingrid help her upstairs and into a bedroom on the first floor. Melanie turns down the bed whilst Stella rapidly undresses the almost unconscious woman efficiently though recoiling a little at the smell of sweat on her body and clothes.

Ingrid is pushed naked between the sheet and she hears Stella say.

“ Keep all the clothing, fold it. Bring it with you.”

The light is turned off.

Then she is asleep but for one moment halfway through the night when she hears a sudden piercing scream, a girl, obviously Melanie and seconds later Stella’s laugh.

Ingrid smiles at that and sleeps.

 

 

She awakes slowly, drifting in and then out of consciousness, mouth furred and thick, head aching. When she finally pulls herself up her first thought is that she had been drugged in some way the night before but dismisses it as fantasy and the memory of Stella deep kissing her own daughter and the terrible scarring of the little body gives her a thrill.

She luxuriates though in the soft cotton sheets and the warmth of the room, she can see light through the curtains and hear rain lashing against the window.

There is a note on the bedside table and she switches on the bedside light to read it.

 

“ Good morning Ingrid, I trust you slept well ( You SHOULD have done after the sleeping draught I gave you in the coffee, sorry a necessary ruse ). I have taken your clothes and I am running a few errands this morning including getting you some more suitable clothing. I have taken the uniform and the rest as well as your bag, I see you took nothing relating to Wechtel. I will explain at the interview this afternoon. I have left an old negligee which may fit you until I can return, you are welcome to bathe or shower, if  you are hungry my daughter has been given instruction to serve you. Back at around 2

Stella “

 

 

 

She lifts an arm and is suddenly aware of the smell of her own sweat and also of a fierce pressure on her bladder. She gets out of the bed, her toes curling in the thick red carpet and seeing a door by the bedhead, she goes through into a small bathroom and squats on the toilet releasing a stream of liquid whilst considering the plain white decoration of the room and whether to bath or shower. She decides upon the shower and runs it hot, disconcerted at the simplicity of the operation, no meter, no lighting to do, just turn on.

She shampoos her hair and washes thoroughly and steps out to dry herself. She cannot brush her long blonde hair..................she towels it dry.

The negligee is on the bed, floor length black artificial silk edged in red satin and it is tight across her shoulders but better than nothing. She pulls it around herself and opens the door on to the landing.

The girl Melanie is kneeling by the door, her hands in her lap and her head bowed.

She is wearing a sleeveless black silk shift dress with a mandarin collar and calf length skirt.

She is silent.

“ I need a brush for my hair” Ingrid stands over her.

The girl nods and rises to her feet, walks away rapidly hips swaying and returns with a brush.

“ You may as well brush it out for me. “ Ingrid turns and walks back to her room followed by the girl.

She sits at the dressing table and the girl stands behind her. That smell of rubber has returned and Ingrid turns and grabs at Melanie’s skirt at the hem and turns it back, the girl tries to pull back.

“ Stand still!” Ingrid’s voice has command.

“ Rubberised silk eh? Does Mummy always make you wear this? “ The girl hesitates and then nods.

“ Well? Tell me.”

 

“ She can’t answer you Ingrid, I have not given her permission to talk.” The speaker is Stella, standing in the doorway in a long black leather swing back coat holding handfuls of bags which she now drops to the floor.

She advances.

“ Brush Miss Ingrid’s hair little one as she wishes. “ The girl obeys.

“ Speech is not allowed her, her mouth is only for eating and for .................my pleasure shall we say. Speech is a higher function and she does not need it. She only needs to understand what she is told and be obedient. “

She stands behind the girl and grips the nape of her swan neck.

“ Eh sweetie? Isn’t Mummy right?” Melanie tries to nod.

 

Stella turns and opens the bags and lays her purchases on the bed whilst the girl brushes and then helps Ingrid to pin up her hair, brushing down the fringe at the front.

“ A few things for you, Melanie will help you dress and bring you brunch and then you are ready and I will begin to conduct the interview for the position. It will be a long process Ingrid, I would prefer to start immediately.”

 

With that Stella swishes from the room leaving the mute girl standing with Ingrid, who sits on the bed and opens her gifts. There are blouses in grey and black silk and there are two black cotton pencil skirts, below the knee length with a small kick pleat at the back. Black and red 4 inch heeled stilettos, black stockings, black underwear. The quality is very good, better than Ingrid has seen in many years, at least for her own use.

 

She tries the brassiere first, making the shoulder straps longer to fit, leaning forward so that her tits fall  into the black silk cones, Melanie stands behind her and fastens it, her hands are cold and Ingrid feels a sexual frisson at the beautiful mutes touch. Ingrid fastens the deep garter belt at her waist twists it round and smiles when Melanie kneels at her feet and takes the black stockings from their cellophane packs.

 

There is an immediate intimacy about her dressing, Ingrid pulls at the suspender tabs as Melanie rolls the black nylon, fits it over her upraised foot then begins to work it up over her leg. Ingrid feels wetness cold at her open cunt as the girls fingers stroke the fabric up her knee and then to her thigh, firm and insistent.

She takes the tops from Melanie and tabs them, shivering a little.

“ The other one you will do.” She says and she slides one hand over the suspender belt and her fingers nestle into the coarse bush of her genitalia, pressing at the nub hidden in the fleshy cleft of her cunt. She is wet.

She savours the pleasure of the girl’s service and rubs at herself, mouth slightly agape, looking down at the bitch at her feet who now repeats the process but far more slowly, surreptitiously eyeing Ingrid fingering herself. When her hands reach the stocking top the girl moves them higher, to Ingrid’s fingers and her labia. They become entangled with each other and Ingrid gasps as she feels the girl’s slim digits moving into her, she arches her back, beginning to feel herself gush.

 

The girl is earnest, concentrating, a small frown on her beautiful face but there is deadness behind the eyes.............. Ingrid sits on the bed and opens her legs wide, Stella has told the girl to do this, she knows that immediately, she lays back and feels the girl working at her genitals. She subsides to sit at the side of the bed lays back and pulls her ankles onto the coverlet, her cunt gaping. Melanie shuffles forward and nuzzles her face into Ingrid, who grunts as the sexual thrill runs through her, Stella’s daughter is now licking the length of her, teasing at the clitoris hood, sucking at it. Ingrid puts her hands down, grips the girl’s head and forces it hard into her, rubs the doll face over her wet cunt. The girl’s tongue is in her vagina, sucking, her button nose on her clitoris.............Ingrid opens her eyes.

 

Stella is standing in the doorway, still in her swayback leather coat, watching. She smiles and approaches, sits next to Ingrid who can smell her scent, the coat crackles softly, the girl is pressing more urgently, Stella lays a hand on her right breast and squeezes at the flesh. The heel of Ingrid’s  left hand rubs at her own left breast. Stella is smiling.

 

Ingrid relaxes, concentrates on the sensations and the knowledge of a subservient girl being forced to service her......................

 

Ingrid climaxes, her back arches off the bed and her thighs close to grip Melanie between them. Stella strokes her forehead as Ingrid mews in pleasure. She closes her eyes and feels all the tensions fall from her. Stella continues to caress her.

 

“ There my dear is that better? “

Ingrid twists in languid ecstasy.

“ Yes..........................” her voice is hoarse. “ The little minx is a temptation Stella, do you mind?”

Stella leans forward and kisses Ingrid on her lips, dry from her sexual arousal in answer.

“ Not at all, it is healthy and that is what my daughter is trained to do. “ The girl is actually struggling, Ingrid has not released her and she is suffocating.

Stella smiles.

“ Let her go now.” Ingrid opens her legs and the red faced girl falls to the floor panting. Stella stands.

“ I will see you downstairs for the interview in an hour. The girl will bring refreshment. “

 

Ingrid sits up slowly and closes her legs, her cunt oozes pleasure and she can see the girl’s face is covered in her wetness she stands.

 

Smiling she picks up a black silk blouse and shrugs into it.

“ Button me up girl!”

Melanie shakes her head and stands, her dress plucking as she obeys.

 

 

 

 

An hour later, having eaten a brunch, Ingrid  is shown into the study by Melanie. Stella Petrak is seated at the leather covered chromed steel desk by one of the tall windows, against which rain is lashing. Ingrid feels very good indeed, better than she has for months – even years. Despite her unease at being in this strange house with the weird mιnage between Petrak and her “ daughter “ and that mention of a former name she is content. She is warm, well fed, she has recently climaxed and she revels in being able to wear good clothes again. The silk lining of her skirt on her slip and nylons is comforting luxury.

 

Stella Petrak stands as she enters and Ingrid sees a black leather skirt beneath the loose Cossack sleeved white silk blouse, she waves Ingrid to a high backed leather swivel chair - Ingrid is not surprised to see the girl move to the other side of the desk and kneel beside her Mother.

 

Stella puts on a pair of black rimmed glasses and looks at some papers beneath her. She sits back in her chair and smiles at Ingrid.

“ To understand the position you have to know about my history and what has brought me to offer it to you. .......... Like you Ingrid I came to this country immediately after the war, I was a little older than you and perhaps a little more experienced but the first months were difficult, particularly learning the language properly and the strange ways of the English, a task made harder when you are poor and viewed with some suspicion by the natives as a foreigner as I am sure you know.”

Stella pauses and Ingrid nods.

 

“ When I first arrived I was put in a camp in East Anglia a dreadfully bleak and cold place but I moved to London as soon as I was cleared and began to look for work. I took positions as a skivvy in cafes like you, then as a domestic – a whole string of menial jobs until I found a place as a shop assistant at a clothing shop in Putney, a real step up for me and also with the advantage of a small room above the premises which overlooked the river even if that winter it was freezing cold.

 From the first day I worked hard there........it was such an improvement for me that I actually found the work easy, I started in the stockrooms but soon was brought out by the manageress to the sales floor when my accent had all but disappeared. Of course that made me unpopular with the other woman who had been with them for years but the manageress could see my worth to them and the bitch soon left, after I had given her a quiet talking to late one night. From that moment I received a raise and I actually ran the place all but  singlehandedly. It WAS difficult, clothing rationing and no money about at all and the cold of those winters...........”

Stella shivers at the shared memory.

 

“ One of the things we sold were macs, real rainwear. I handled the reps who sold it and one lucky day in walked an older man who seemed a little out of his depth. He had supplied us with some rubberised cotton coats but to be frank they were dowdy, terrible old fashioned designs and I had taken them off the rails after a day or two. I tried to tell him in as pleasant a way as possible what they lacked and he seemed genuinely interested – even asking my advice about how to improve his products, what women and my clientele wanted and I told him. That was Mr Petrak of PetMacs, he came back three weeks later with garments made precisely to my ideas, glorious scarlet rubberised silk trench coats and they sold out in days with only a little help on my part. I rang him to reorder and he was so pleased that when he brought in the replacements himself he arranged to take me out to dinner.”

 

Stella leans forward and takes a cigarette, Melanie rises to reach for the lighter and half standing lights it for the older woman.

Stella breathes smoke down her nose. Melanie kneels again.

 

“ After the best meal I had eaten in years I slept with him of course at his hotel that night. Perhaps you have gathered that my first choice for a partner will always be a woman but I could see in this man a way to improve myself and for that I would have fucked the devil himself.” She snorts.

Ingrid leans forward.

“ He actually brought me a new style to look at, a hooded cape in black rubberised satin and insisted I wear it for the evening...........................and later in bed. Of course I knew he was a fetishist, one of those men who adore rubber and rubberised clothing, you could always tell them in the shop and they were always hanging around outside and looking in the windows, sometimes coming in on the weakest pretext to look at clothes. I grew able to detect them as customers when their wives or girlfriends were about to choose another style they would always offer the girl an extra incentive to opt for rubber. “

 

 “ Maurice .” She pronounces it in the French style. “ More eece.”

“ Maurice had had what they call a good war. Too young for the first and too old for the second - he had taken over the family businesses in the thirties and he landed some important contracts with the services through the old boy network. Gasmasks for biological warfare, groundsheets for the army as a sub contractor, rubber gloves for the RAMC as fairly obviously the company specialised in latex and rubber products. He was wealthy and the women’s clothing was his little indulgence, his hobby. He loved to see women in rubber and this was a way to do so.

 I could see huge potential in this relationship............. as we met more frequently I began to affect a liking for rubber and latex and made sure that when we met he would see me stroking it and talking of how wonderful I thought wearing it. How smooth, slithery cold.........................how it made me feel more womanly and even sexy. It was a simple process of course, he believed me because he wanted to and he adored me and then inevitably fell in love with me. Am I boring you Ingrid?” she asks as the rain hisses against the window panes again and the light can be seen to be failing.

 

“ I am very interested Stella, such a strong woman you are. I have known such men, some were in for treatment and some of the Doctors themselves showed similar tastes”

Stella turns on an anglepoise next to her, stands and then sits on the edge of the desk above Ingrid. Stella stubs out her cigarette with some venom. Puts her palms flat on the desktop, crosses her legs, the leather is tight on her thighs, she swings one leg at the knee.

 

“ Suffice it to say that in a little over a year he had proposed to me. He bought me a flat in London, he was originally based near the factories in Birmingham, my wardrobe of rubber and latex clothing grew with every week, his pleasure was to see me in the stuff and I obliged him though I did insist on designing the garments myself, some of my designs Petmacs began to sell and the styles proved popular.  I left the shop in Putney on good terms and began working full time for Maurice just as clothing came off rationing and I used everything I had learnt about what was stylish and would sell well to boost sales. I even modelled some of our products.”

 

Stella hands Ingrid a catalogue open at one page showing two young women in black rubber macs striking model poses, one is unmistakably a younger Stella.

 

“ That’s me on the right of course and the girl with me travelled with me as our model when I sold to the department stores and chains. Angela, a beautiful girl as long as she kept her mouth shut, her Birmingham accent was very distinct though she could manage polite limited conversation in something acceptable”

 

 

Ingrid studies the picture.

“ You are very beautiful Stella, so slim and the other is very pretty too.”

“ Thank you my dear.” Stella smiles down at Ingrid and then lifts and studies the picture herself.

“ Angela was a doll, we travelled together a lot and though it took a little time she became my bed partner and lover as well as my friend, we still correspond.”

“ So your macs did well?” Ingrid returns to the company.

 “ We did very well, very well indeed. He married me in 1953 and then the really interesting things began to happen, the events and situations that have brought you here.  To me.”

Stella leans forward and runs the tip of her finger down Ingrid’s jaw line from her ear to her chin. Ingrid pushes against the touch.

“ Such a strong girl aren’t you? Really striking features.” She hisses.

“ I DO hope you are going to accept...............”

 

Stella stands slowly, smoothes her skirt down over her hips and thighs and then stands behind Ingrid and places her hands upon the woman’s shoulders, slowly kneading at her flesh.

 

“ There was little of his family, a sister and some aunts and as I had no relatives the wedding was small, registry office. Even so I was persuaded to wear a scarlet rubberised satin floor length cape over my Susan Small cocktail gown by my doting husband. The honeymoon was in Germany where we had begun selling our PetMacs through Klepper and where Maurice had some business contacts on gasmask contracts. As a result all our expenses would be paid – no problems with the limit on foreign exchange.

It was there after a week that he chose to make his confession............... I knew of his love for latex but there was something more......................................his need to wear the same clothing as I, to dress as a woman in rubber.  Like many of his type, these rubber fetishists, he also wanted to be mistreated and beaten. I should have been shocked but in fact I had known for months as his sister and I had become...............very close. “

 Stella leans forward pressing her breasts against the back of Ingrid’s head.

 

The girl is watching them, Stella slides her hands slowly down over the black silk of Ingrid’s blouse and cups her breasts in her hands, rubs at the tips with her thumbs.

“ You know what I mean by close don’t you Ingrid?” She whispers in her ear leaning forward.

Ingrid throws her head back.

“ Oh yes little one I know what close means.” She reaches up and pulls Stella’s face to her own and kisses her open mouthed, forcing her tongue into the standing woman. Then she abruptly rises, turns and embraces Stella, standing over her by a head, pressing the woman’s face to her own bosom.

Then their mouths lock again and the hands rub, caress, pinch and grab at each other’s flesh. The faces flush, the grunts, knees at cunts, mouths sucking, deft fingers seeking the folds and creases of genitals. It is slow and determined - Ingrid is forceful and stronger and she uses her size to control Stella and dictate her movements.

 

An hour later and Ingrid is seated on the left hand side of the chrome steel and black leather sofa in her  brassiere, suspender belt and stockings. In her lap lays Stella, her head propped upon the sofa armrest, she has retained her silk blouse, stockings and suspenders but the rest of her clothing is strewn over the carpeting. Her hard lacquered platinum blonde hair is a little tousled but her lips are full and her eyes are slow in post orgasmic languor . She reaches up with her hands and cradles Ingrid’s face in them.

“ SUCH a strong woman............” she whispers.“ SO handsome and forceful.”

Ingrid smiles down at her and then twists the two fingers she has inside Stella’s dribbling cunt and presses hard on the clitoris hood beneath her thumb. She is amused to see the woman close her eyes in sudden shock at the sexual jolt. Ingrid compounds the manipulation by gripping harder at the silk covered breast in her left hand.

“ Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Stella squirms and then opens her eyes, she grins.

“ Stop My dear, strong Ingrid, stop now my strong girl” 

Reluctantly Ingrid relaxes her grip.

“ You interrupted my story you brute.” Stella petulantly pouts.

“ Now here was I? Ahh yes.....I had just married Petrak. Strange that after almost two years of wearing latex clothing, I stopped doing so almost overnight when we returned to England. From the moment of his confession – and he had bought a loose evening gown in black latex with him in our luggage to wear if I agreed – he became even more obsessed with the material. From wearing it at hooooooooooooooooooooomme............”

Stella pants as Ingrid moves her fingers again within her.

“ Yes Stella? “ Ingrid smiles and look guileless.

“ You glorious bitch you! “

“ I WILL finish!” But she makes no movement to disengage her cunt from Ingrid’s hand despite her forceful tone.

 

“ I mentioned my sister in law Leila, she was younger than him though a lot older than me At the time of the marriage she was in her late forties, when we had first met I was a little intimidated by her but in subsequent meetings she became more relaxed and eventually her hugs were held just a little longer, she held my hand just that little bit firmer and I knew she shared my tastes and I responded. As an unmarried woman she quite naturally lived with her brother, she had discovered his secret hoard of women’s rubber clothing and pornography when he was in his twenties and even spotted him in female guise, strutting aound the garden and his room.

 It took me some time to bed her, she was remarkably naive sexually – had only slept with one woman when she had been in the WRVS, a real love match– but she was a fast learner and soon with Maurice away on his business trips so often we established a proper relationship. Maurice of course thought it sweet that we spent such a lot of time together, the poor fool.

Leila and I discussed my sissy rubber husband most often when we lay next to each other in the marital bed after a good fuck, we both read up on the subject of his and all fetishes and sexual deviations and I found that this transvestism is quite common in masochistic or sexually subservient males. I studied his pathetic but extensive hoard of filthy books and magazines and noted the stereotypes, the leather clad dominant woman, the spike heels, the dressed male, the gags, the whippings......................I decided to use it as a tool to get precisely what I wanted from the marriage and from him.”

She pauses.

“ I have seen such things.” Ingrid withdraws her fingers and lays her hand on Stella’s mons slipping her thumb now into the slick cleft.

“ I will bet you have you sick bitch.” Stella smiles and Ingrid even blushes, she had such a collection at one time taken from her patients “ for her research “and used them to masturbate.

 

“ I decided to be his “ Dominatrix “ as they call them and took trouble to buy the right clothing, to be frank it was not easy, six inch stiletto heeled thigh boots are not sold in British Home Stores. Leila and I researched and wrote to lots of companies and I must say the process was instructive. I met some absolutely lovely people, many of them sympathetic to my tastes in particular - when my husband returned home I was in a black leather dress with opera gloves and boots with the highest heels I could find and the black leather coat you have seen. I made sure Leila was not back for that weekend – when he arrived at the door I adopted one of those domina poses – you know fists on hips, legs apart and a sneer and ordered him to lick my boots before going another step. You know the stupid object spurted sperm as he knelt, he was such a pathetically simple worm to manipulate!”

 

Stella smiles.

 

“ So from being coerced into wearing rubber myself every day I now enforced the same rules on my stupid husband, not that it was any enforcement he adored it all. I actually found leather a far more sympathetic material to wear and acceptable in public too, Maurice spent more and more time at home, in his latex maid’s uniform or Victorian dresses, still working but from an office on the first floor of the house and now far less inclined to gad about the country or overseas. After all in our house he was living his dream, “ forced” to wear rubber dresses by a strict Mistress - I got him to refer to me as such at all times when alone - who beat him, tortured him and used rubber to discipline him and oh yes I DID discipline him. I was surprised at how savage the cane can be the first time I used one on him. I thought he was being his usual wimpish self when he screamed  but when I had Laila give me two strokes I discovered just how painful the implement is. From there I progressed to floggings and some needle torture, I developed q taste for causing pain..............

When I judged the time to be right I took Leila to my bed and introduced my husband to the pleasure of watching his Mistress wife fuck and use his younger sister. You would expect him to express shock but all the slob did was express spunk........”

 

Stella laughs and Ingrid joins her, shaking her head.

 

“ Eventually we installed him in his own little room next to the main bedroom – our bedroom - locked when I wished and opened if I felt like some amusement or some sympathy for the worm. I stopped allowing intercourse, I had never enjoyed it with him of course, first using my hand on him and finally not bothering to give relief at all – sometimes Leila took pity on him when he was totally enclosed in rubber and eventually her hand became the only direct sexual pleasure he experienced. I was happy with this.

 

At the same time I made some changes at PetMacs and Maurice’s other businesses, Leila and I discussed them and then we set “ Myra “ - that is the name I gave the slave - to carry them out, at first he showed some reluctance but I soon stopped that by wearing ordinary clothing, not being Mistress and explaining that he HAD to do what I told him or I would leave him. He crumbled of course he was addicted to his Mistress and the rubber clothing and he saw the sense of our ideas when the results of our innovations began to bear fruit.

I was determined never to be poor again and I knew these moves would assure the company’s future, when we researched the market we found the costs in the UK becoming uncompetitive, so I switched the rubberising processes and manufacturing to Belgium, the orders were always completed to time and to high quality which for the larger orders which we were now processing was important. I expanded the medical side to include gloves, aprons, and sheeting and that became the main interest of the Birmingham factory as well as the gas mask enterprise which I retained here as the Ministry of Defence will not allow overseas sourcing. The growth was good and the PetMacs brand spun off a side shoot which I called Slither which offered expensive made to measure rubber wear to a very limited clientele, like my husband/slave. I had discovered many valuable contacts when I had researched my dominatrix role. “

 

Stella sits up, embraces Ingrid briefly and then slides her legs over the sofa side. She slips her feet into her discarded black patent stilettos, steps into her leather skirt and pulls it up over her hips, walks to the desk, zipping the side, her hips swinging, lights a cigarette and sits in her chair.

 

“ So three years ago the mackintosh business PetMacs was thriving, the gasmasks and medical rubber were doing very well but it was Slither that had begun to actually intrude into my life the most. The only people who buy our products are the wealthy, the clothing is fitted and made to the highest standard and they also pay for ........................our discretion about what they want shall we say?

The measuring and fittings are now done in this house, we began in our home in Birmingham but it really never provided privacy and some other very unique facilities which this place can boast. It also began to be difficult when I held weekends for Slither clients, most very simple affairs where they could wear their rubber with others, some bringing their wives and girlfriends, others employ shall we say “working  girls”? Others with a more limited guest list have become the most enjoyable for me, almost an addiction in fact - whippings and torture which have become more severe with every meeting, the screams and the agony on the faces of the submissives is a joy to me, Maurice used to squeal like a pig when caned and that became my sole pleasure in him, making him suffer. I find I have become quite addicted to torment and pain, male of course but mostly female”

 

Ingrid leans forward to listen, a slight dribble of wetness oozing from her slit at the thought of torture and the pain in these elegant surroundings.

“ It was at one of these that I began talking in some depth with a man who actually works for the MOD – a psychiatrist. His wife is an almost totally silent and reserved woman who he enjoys layering in rubber, torturing and even asphyxiating, she is extremely meek and obeys even his most outrageous orders.”

 

Stella looks down at Melanie, she advances one of her shoes towards the girl. Her daughter shuffles back a little, leans forward and begins to lick at the toe.

 

“ Ahh that’s better. Good girl, you know how Mummy likes that don’t you darling?”  She turns back to Ingrid. “ Yes I was MOST impressed with his control of his wife – in truth she was simply his slave. He had branded her with his mark and carried out piercings on her nipples and labia with which he led her or tormented her. Pretty woman too. ”

 

Ingrid moves to sit in her original chair at the desk, making the tableau of interview even more bizarre by crooking one stockinged leg over the arm and using one hand to finger herself as she watches and listens.

 

“ Like some of the men I met through Slither he is a Dominant sadist, unlike them he had a very attractive wife slave who he could torment at will. I asked him how he had been lucky enough to find such a docile partner, he laughed at that and told me he had actually spent years training her to be so. As a psychiatrist he had studied brainwashing techniques and modification of behaviour and had determined to use his knowledge to create a slave , the start was to find a malleable subject and as he was  attached to a large institution he had access to thousands of case notes, he eventually found several that fitted his criteria, alone without a family being one of the most important ,observed the women, assessed them and then picked one, the best looking . He then made her his girlfriend and then began his process, he used brainwashing techniques, simple psychology but also brutality to break the girl’s mind and spirit and then he reformed her as his toy eventually when satisfied marrying the object.

 I was completely fascinated, he gave me use of his slavewife for a week whilst he was in the States and I adored the feeling of having total control over a woman, brutalising her and receiving only adoration and a wet cunt in return, the  tastes I had acquired in using my husband I refined with her. Oh yes she actually gets very sexually excited when she is in pain, she has been trained to do exactly that, as he said he always wants her ready for easy entry.”

 

Stella throws over a 10 by 8 black and white glossy showing a woman encased in rubber with someone’s hands at her exposed cunt and another standing behind holding her. Everything is black rubber and Ingrid  becomes even more excited by the total deviance of the scene as well as the sexual abandon in the  pose of the woman. Stella giggles, she is staring deep into Ingrid’s eyes seeing there what she wants, then glances down to see Ingrid’s fingers slipping faster at her clitoris studying the image of the rubber slave.

 

“ That is her Master behind her and Leila’s hands, she is about to insert an electric prod into her.”

 

Ingrid grunts and then there is silence as her rhythm increases, Stella smiles and then grins the gaunt faced woman  squeals as she climaxes.

 

“ Better my dear?” Stella lights a cigarette as Ingrid continues to touch herself, her face flushed and breathing slowly through her nose

“ Your reactions are very pleasing Ingrid, this is going better than I hoped it might..............I decided I wanted a slave of my own and that is where Melanie was conceived and eventually your own situation.

Together he and I refined his technique and began to look once again at his potential subjects, albeit some years after his original quest. He had needed a woman I specified a girl, I wanted firm young flesh to use and Melanie was brought to me here from the institution nearly two years ago and we began the process. THIS process. ”

 

Stella reaches down to a drawer at her side and takes out a large sheaf of typewritten pages at least two inches thick, spirex bound in cracked grey plastic. She pushes it across the desk to Ingrid who stops, sits up in the chair closes her legs and reaches for the book.

She opens it.

 

“ I want you to read it, you will see that it details an admittedly brutal and sadistic manipulation of a females brain and body until her very soul is crushed and she becomes a cipher, a doll. The point is Ingrid, with all your past.....experience..... I feel you are ideally suited to carry out this treatment. If you decide to accept, the job I am offering is to be the person who carries out this process on my next two subjects and then perhaps on more.”

 

Ingrid sits back and takes in the words. Free rein with the torture and total objectification of women.........

 

“ You say two, you already have Melanie, why more?”

 

Stella smiles.

 

“ You might say I am greedy but the truth is some of my clients have seen my daughter and her predecessor and want one for themselves, they have offered me large amounts of money to provide them with such ....adjuncts to their lives.”

 

Stella rises and beckons to her daughter to stand too.

 

The phone rings. Stella reaches across the desk to answer it whilst Ingrid begins to read.

 

“ Leila darling! Where are you?........................ Yes.........................................she is here with me now, very simpatico..........................yes I am afraid I had to...............far too sweet a dish to pass over and it has been days my darling...........................I will make up for it when you return. You have them in hand? A problem?...................................Okay, good.................................... call me back in an hour I will have an answer then.....................send him my best wishes too .......................on her tits?............................or there?........................yes. Goodbye my love.”

 

“ Leila.” She explains but Ingrid is flipping pages over and back engrossed in the document.

Stella beckons to Melanie and they leave her.

 

 

When they return forty five minutes later, the girl bearing coffee on a tray, Ingrid has put her skirt back on and is smoking a cigarette, the document open in her lap.

“ Well Ingrid? “ asks Stella, standing in the doorway her arms folded.

“ You wish for me to do this to a girl?” Stella shakes her head.

“ Two girls.”

“ There is equipment here................ECT, it is only used in mental hospitals.”

“ I have a lot of contacts Ingrid my dear.” Stella advances and leans against the desk.

“ I assure you everything needed to do this is available here and that as Melanie attests it IS an effective process. The timings vary, the initial isolation is two weeks but after that the beatings and the torture are very much at your own discretion, you have to do them in the correct order but the timings and the duration and the actual form will be up to you, they cannot be permanently damaged though. Not physically I mean, your nursing experience will ensure that and that they stay alive of course during some of the more arduous elements.” She is grinning.

Ingrid turns to her.

“ Will others be involved?”

“ You are thinking of security. You will be their principal trainer, I enjoy some aspects and will join you, Leila will assist but is not suited to the most brutal operations as we found with Melanie didn’t we darling? Auntie Leila could not use the ECT on you could she?”

The girl looks terror stricken for a moment but nods emphatically.

“ The eventual owners will also be involved far later in the process. If you are thinking of the law....................I am well connected in THAT regard with the judiciary, the police and the rather more outrι services. Remember those contacts have already enabled me to be one step ahead of them in warning you and to give me some of the authorities suspicions in regard to the Weiss woman.”

 

Ingrid stubs out the cigarette.

 

“ What are they?” she says coldly.

“ That she died in 1945 at the hands of Gerda Wechtel a young girl who had links through her uncle with the Gestapo. The girl was described as a very tall and well muscled blonde, I have a picture somewhere.” Stella says with a slow voice.

Ingrid feels waves of fear, then anger and finally ice cold resolve run through her. She stands and crosses her arms looking away from Stella.

“ Your court case started some busybody in our Special Branch to start digging into the old files............luckily a friend managed to warn me.” She says no more.

 

The room is silent. Ingrid paces towards the far windows which look out into the huge back garden, now gloomy in the dusk of midwinter. The faster rise and fall of her bosom speaks of her emotions. She turns.

 

“ Yes.” She says simply. Stella inclines her head to one side in question.

 

“ Yes I was................am Gerda Wechtel, yes I will take the position if you are serious. “ She heaves a huge sigh and almost falls into an armchair. Stella walks quickly over to her and kneels at her feet embracing her legs, looking up.

“ I am tired Stella.” Ingrid says reaching a hand forward to stroke the rigid blonde hair.

Stella slowly lowers her head and kisses her knee.

“ Melanie! A drink for Miss Ingrid and you must show her proper respect now my darling, she is now one of Mummy’s very SPECIAL friends.”

 

2

 

 

Despite her exhaustion Ingrid soon discovered that being a particular friend of Stella’s gave immediate benefits. After the meal and some wine, the two women had talked and discussed “ The project “ until late that night, Stella had promised to show an increasingly accepting and eager Ingrid the facilities in which she would work the next day after her repeated demands and had finally silenced questions with a deep mouth kiss. From there they progressed to Stella’s bedroom and Ingrid aggressively fucked her host and employer, brutally beating her at one point with a thin belt to the shocked amazement of the watching daughter who knelt at the side of the bed whilst her mother screamed and swore under the blows..

 

The next morning Ingrid wakes very late after a deep and dreamless sleep, she recalls the events of the previous day and the slim little body which had lain next to her during the night. She smiles, stretches and feels the luxury of central heating, the room is warm and there is a pleasure in getting out of bed and walking in nothing but her blue satin pyjamas ( previously belonging to “ Myra “ ) to the bathroom, having a piss and brushing her teeth.

 

She goes downstairs.

Stella is in the living room, reclined on her side on a sofa in a black and red lace full length silk nightgown and matching negligee, the girl Melanie is kneeling at her side in a ruched black latex baby doll nightdress, Ingrid smiles as she remarks the thin welts across Stella’s arms and body.

“ Good morning Ingrid!” Stella gives her a crooked smile.

“ I am absolutely bruised and battered this morning, you are SUCH a bitch to abuse me so.”

Ingrid nods grinning and cocks her head as she gets closer.

“ Excuse me for a while I am rewarding my little girl for her good behaviour since you joined us...........uhh uhh”

 Her head rolls  back and her face contorts with a deep joy then she looks down at her daughter with an almost loving smile and strokes her hair. As Ingrid nears she can see that one of Stella’s breasts is pulled out of the nightdress, a surprisingly well formed and gravid example for such a small birdlike woman as Ingrid had discovered the previous night, now the weight is explained by the sight of Melanie, her mouth wide and clamped to the nipple, suckling with closed eyes.

There are little sounds of slurping coming from her and a faint smell.

“ If she is a good girl Mummy will give her more later...............now suck my little baby.” Stella whispers and squirms to present herself better to her slave whilst smiling up at Ingrid.

“ We will inspect the training area after breakfast and there are some clothes I wish you to see and try on....” She reaches forward and takes Ingrid’s hand then squirms as the girl’s sucking reaches an audible crescendo.

“ This is SO good................it took a little while to prompt the let down reflex but it is worth it. I believe this bonds her to me even more and I must admit the size and weight of my breasts has increased and I like that...............and it is always available, we have even suckled like this in the car haven’t we darling?. Perhaps later you would like some my strong Ingrid? “ she says coquettishly.

Ingrid is bold enough to squeeze Stella’s hand harder, waiting until she sees her wince, she is attempting to assert her sexual authority over the woman as she had the night before but Stella pulls her hand away and rubs at it.

“ You are too rough Ingrid.” But she is smiling.

“ You enjoy causing pain don’t you?”

Ingrid nods.

“ When a girl screams would that make you stop hurting her?”

A shake of the head.

“ If she begged and pleaded would that stop you?”

“ No, you silly bitch, it would make me hurt her more.” Ingrid is grinning.

“Good, very good. I knew I had chosen the right woman for my needs!”

“ Now later would you like a little of what the slave is getting..........................................?”

 

Ingrid’s attention is taken by a movement at the window.  

“ Stella there is someone in the garden!” She is instantly apprehensive and steps back into the room, what if they have come looking for her?

“ Him? Oh that is my garden slave, he will not bother us. “

Ingrid watches the figure, garbed in heavy SBR coat, souwester and wellingtons, walk down the path to the end of the garden.

“ He is actually a High Court judge.”

“ I use him to keep the garden in some order, he is one of my  rubber slaves. He works here for a day a week telling his lovely wife he has court duties, totally submissive and very easily manipulated. You will see later, it is as good a time as any for you to integrate a little into our household.”

She sits up and the girl’s mouth gapes in need, a slim dribble of milk at her chin.

“ Melanie get Mother and Miss Ingrid coffee and toast immediately, you can serve it in the breakfast room.”

Stella stands and grabs at one of the girl’s stick thin arms to pull her up.

“ She is always rather dreamy after a feed, like when Mummy used the ECT on her , eh?” The girl’s head jerks up that memory and the implicit threat take her out of her trance.

 

Breakfast is served with the girl still in the little baby doll latex nightdress and she stands next to her mother whilst she eats, Stella’s hand sometimes wandering to stroke her naked backside or stray to her cuntlips and press there. Each time she does the girl quivers and bites at her lower lip.

 

“ We will dress you properly this morning Ingrid, your actual uniforms and other clothing will not be here for a week at least, I only ordered it when you accepted the position AND I knew your sizes accurately. However there are still a lot of suitable garments for you in the house in the dressing room. We will go there immediately after you have finished here.”

“ I really don’t think that I need dress in latex Stella, it is only to look at the cells and check the equipment.”

 

Ingrid finishes her coffee in one swallow. She stands.

“ Ready.”

Stella rises too and walks quickly towards the taller woman, turns her with one hand on her shoulder and then, face set in anger, lands a roundhouse slap on her face. Ingrid is totally shocked and before she can collect her thoughts Stella closes with her, grips her face in her hands and hisses.

“ Think? Think cunt? When did thinking ever do you or anyone else any good? You have NOT made the best choices have you GERDA?”

She pulls the woman’s face down to her as if about to kiss her. Her voice is soft and patronising.

“ I choose to employ you because you are a brutal, sadistic bitch and your body gives me some pleasure. Never think though Ingrid dear, leave that to someone brighter..........................and more practised in the art!”

She finishes by kissing her, opening her mouth and this time it is Stella’s tongue which forces itself into Ingrid’s affirming their relationship.

 

Stella leads her upstairs past the main bedrooms to the end of the corridor, there she opens the door and waves her in. As she crosses the threshold the smell is overpowering and Ingrid pauses for a moment to look around her, rack after rack of rubber - black rubber, red rubber, rubberised silk, rubberised satin, and all possible combinations surround her, coats, capes, dresses, masks, boots - a fetishists wet dream. She advances slowly and begins to look at the garments, lifting them, stroking the smooth surfaces.

Stella watches her as she moves down the narrow aisles smiling.

“ I will suggest something for you my dear, something similar to the uniform that I have ordered for you, .........unless you wish to start THINKING again?”

Ingrid blushes.

“ No Stella you are right............. there is so much here................is this all yours?” whispers Ingrid.

“ It is my business my dear woman! Some are samples, some are from Maurice or Myra, a lot are costumes or trials that never worked out for the customer or which I make available for my special guests .........................here! This is perfect and I am fairly sure it will fit my strong girl.”

She lifts a long black latex garment from the rack and it shivers in her hands.

“ This will be a good start, a good fit too I am sure, now gloves.................there Ingrid, by the side of you...................I think large.  Stockings here and finally the hood. Take two they have both eye and mouth openings and are relatively light.”

The woman turn and as Stella drops some of her armful they giggle, the tension between them now totally broken.

They go to Ingrid’s bedroom and dump the clothing on the untouched bed, Melanie is summoned.

“ The girl will help you bathe and dress, then come to me for I have to see that pig in the garden and must  appear properly dressed. Consistency is vital with these pigs” She leaves.

 

The process begins with a shower whilst the girl prepares the clothing, talcing the inside of stockings and gloves,  polishing and smoothing.

 

She retains her black silk underwear, the pointed brassiere and the deep suspender belt but the black latex stockings are now attached to them by a kneeling and attentive Melanie, over these she wears a pair of black rubber riding boots with cuban heels. Ingrid has no problems with the thin black surgical rubber gloves, her familiarity with them makes her expert. Then the main garment, jet black polished latex, Melanie lifts it so that Ingrid can put her arms into the sleeves first and then moves behind her to lace it tight from neck to hem. It is a high necked dress with leg of mutton sleeves to the elbow and then buttoned skin tight, the bodice shows some tailoring and the dress flows pleasingly from the hips to the ground. Ingrid is not unimpressed, apart from the smell and the considerable weight the piece is one of the best made garments she has ever worn. She sits and then the girl shows how the tight hood should be put on, the hair tied back and pinned, the chin in first.

 

Ingrid allows that when she looks in the mirror the slanting eyes of the hood and the very blackness of her dress create an intimidatory emotion, she stares at herself, tilting her head. Moving her arms and flexing her fingers she feels the first dewpricks of sweat on her skin, then she turns and admires her silhouette and places her hands on her hips, Melanie moves around her wiping talc from the dress with an oiled cloth and now brings the cloak, cowl hooded black rubberised silk, shimmering and glistening in her arms. The weight on her shoulders is an increased burden but Ingrid again waits patiently whilst the girl buttons the front.

 

Looking down through the window she sees Stella in the garden in a belted black leather trench coat, 6 inch heeled boots, with a black leather uniform cap on her blonde hair standing with her fists at her waist. She can hear her screaming but not what she is bawling. She looks and sees the slave gardener, crawling towards her on his knees across the lawn. Stella turns, looks up and grins at Ingrid, she beckons to her to come down but again Ingrid steps back from the window, a fear of recognition and exposure in her mind particularly by one of the judiciary before she realises her situation and she is unrecognisable in the latex, faceless anonymous and even that is obscured when the hood is put up..................................she swishes as she turns. Walking down the stairs she feels the cloak dragging behind her on the stair carpet, Melanie runs past her and opens the side door.

 

When Ingrid joins Stella the woman has the slave at her feet, he appears to be licking the toes of her boots, Stella lifts one leg and places her right foot on slave’s back, digging the stiletto heel into him. He grunts. Ingrid hears the light pap of raindrops on the material of her hood.

 

“ This is Mistress Torment slave. She has joined my household, you will obey her as you would me. Understand?”

There is a pause and the old man wheezes.

“ Yes Supreme Goddess.”

Stella smiles, steps back and then takes a vicious kick at the man’s side, the heavy SBR of his coat muffles the blow but he still screams like a pig.

“ It seems I did not hurt slave as I intended. Stand up pig!”

Ingrid is smiling now, arms folded beneath the cloak as she watches.

His face is red and there are tears in his eyes, he is a little round faced man with pronounced jowls keeping eyes downcast but drool shows at the corner of his mouth , the shiny thick black rubber mac is mud streaked.

“ Mistress Torment wishes to inspect a slave cock, open the coat and make sure you show Mistress properly.”

In a hurried fumble, the thick black gloves he wears are clumsy, he obeys, opening the coat as Stella circles him, her heels clicking on the paving of the patio.

Stella slaps at his head sending the souwester to the ground and exposing his bald pate.

“ Quickly now worm!”

 He pulls open the coat to reveal black waders which he slips from each shoulder and lowers showing a black latex catsuit beneath, he unzips at the crutch and his small but very rigid cock is exposed with a small and white hair covered ball sac.

Ingrid laughs. There are snail trails of semen and precum dribbling from the object linking it with the waders and the catsuit.

Stella makes a show of bending to look at it.

“ Did I give slave permission to soil itself?” she asks.

The man shakes his head.

Stella steps back to one side, there is a creak as her legs scythes towards his exposed genitals.

He screams of course and slowly sinks to his knees his hands clutched at his balls, folded over in pain.

Stella clicks to him, slaps his head, grabs at his ear and yanks at it.

“ UP!”Pulling him to a crouch.

Ingrid slowly walks towards the tormented man, aware of the sway of her rubberised silk cloak, the squeak of her rubber heels on the paving. She looks down into his tear streaked face, Stella twists it so that he can see Ingrid.

“ Take your hands away pig!” Stella screams, he removes his hands from his cock, red raw now and the balls quivering. Ingrid is not surprised to see that the erection has, if anything, grown larger.

“ This is my friend, my special friend scum.........” Stella hisses into his ear.

“ Look at her!” She reaches down and grabs at his scrotum with her black leather gloved hand, squeezes -hard.

He mews in pain but looks at Ingrid his face red and tears on his cheeks.

“ You will show her the same respect as is given to me................total.”

He bows his head.

“ Yes Supreme Mistress.” He coughs, his head down.

Stella is grinning at Ingrid, obviously enjoying herself. She mimes punching at him and waves Ingrid to do just that.

“ Kneel !” She orders him. He obeys as Stella shrugs in some puzzlement.

Ingrid pulls at her cloak to open it and then at the hem of her dress gripping folds of the latex in her hand to give her leg free movement.

She kicks at the whining slave’s balls. Little kicks , slowly and carefully chosen, from one side of his body to the other, he pants and tries to move away. Stella stands behind him to stop him.

“ Don’t move animal!”

Ingrid takes some interest in seeing his face contort but loses patience within a minute or two. He is getting what he wants from her the perverted little worm and so......................

She draws her leg back and then smashes her toe directly onto his testes. He screams and then falls forward, rolling in agony on the wet slabs of the patio. She moves to him and presses her foot by the side of his head.

“ Thank me pig!” She hisses.

He turns and slowly kisses the toe of her boot. Ingrid bends her knees to lower herself ,her cape slithering and plucking  as she does, and looks at the wheezing man. She smiles and then bending her head spits a huge wad of saliva onto his face. She rises, feeling total contempt for her victim but also a rush of power, there is nothing sexual at all in her feelings, she enjoys being able to create suffering. If it had been a woman that would have been different but..........................

 

Stella looks at her, she too is smiling.

“ Well we may as well look at your new workplace my dear and leave this animal to finish its work. What do you say?”

Ingrid knows better than to disagree with her new employer now.

“ Certainly.” She stamps on the side of the still foetal garden slave as she walks back towards the house, a negligent act of senseless cruelty. Exactly what Stella wants her for.

 

They go directly to the hallway of the house and Stella shows Ingrid the large door under the stairway and opens it to reveal a small room with some cleaning utensils on the floor at one end where the stairs slope to the floor and some coats hung on a peg in front of them. She pulls them aside to reveal another door, one made flush with the wall...................................

 

WEEK 7

Since the girls were delivered Ingrid believes she has earned her wage. The regime that was established in the manual was simple at the start but arduous for her to stick to, they were kept alone in two of the four cells at the bottom of the concrete stairs, in total darkness and naked. Their small accommodation, barely ten feet square, having a single light set behind armoured glass in the ceiling and a grate below in the floor but otherwise totally bare, cold concrete.

 

They  were left in total isolation for two days after their abduction whining and whimpering for explanation or help, blind and cold – their clothes having been ripped from them before incarceration  and then the beatings had begun. As now Ingrid had been dressed in a calf length black latex dress with a high collar, loose sleeves to the elbows and an A line skirt over Cuban heeled black rubber boots, thin black rubber surgical gloves beneath thicker black gauntlets and with a gas mask covering what remained of her head over a skin tight hood.

 

Both had screamed of course when she had suddenly turned on the light and they were confronted by this hellish and bizarre vision when their eyes had finally adjusted, tears dropping onto those sweet young cheeks but these cries were nothing  in comparison with the full throated screams of pain when she began to beat each of them with a long rubber hose, kicking and punching when they made even the least resistance, her height and strength a guarantee of being easily able to overwhelm her little prisoners.

 

She would leave one weeping in pain and fear, turn off the light and begin work on the other girl. Day and night did not exist for them, merely the light and a beating or darkness and silence, Ingrid had sometimes left one or the other for a day, two days and listened with a smile as their hold on sanity began to dissolve.

 

One screamed herself into hoarse silence for 14 hours, imagining monsters in the darkness, hallucinating in her prison, the other lapsed into an almost vegetative state after the same isolation. The times for the beatings were totally random, leading to a total disorientation, time dilation on the part of the victims.

They were not washed, they urinated and defecated in their cells both managing to find the grating for that purpose at the start, attempting to minimise their filth  but after the third week they had begun to lose even that reflex.

The training had begun slowly. For five weeks the gruelling schedule for Ingrid had continued, she eventually slept in one of the other rooms in the underground complex, often not even bothering to take off her rubber clothing, woken in the middle of the night by her alarm to give one of the girls a flogging, finally in such a bad temper with the sleep disruption that she got carried away when she attacked one of the helpless bitches and Stella had to have a quiet word with her and had even made Leila share some of the workload though it was obvious the older woman did not enjoy it.

 

The apparently senseless and sadistic punishments did have an underlying pattern but it took both of the girls a while to discern it. The squeak of Ingrid’s boot heels on the rubber tiled floor would be the first warning, then the light would go on, effectively blinding the cell’s occupant as she had been in total darkness for hours or even a day. Ingrid would enter rapidly and slam the door shut behind her, they often crouched in the corner with their backs to her but she would grab them and position them in the centre of the cell.

 

Then they were beaten, brutally, Ingrid totally silent whilst they wept and squealed, working over their bodies, punching, slapping, pinching until the victim lay sobbing on the cell floor and Ingrid put a boot heel to the little neck below her. Ten minutes later they would be fed their meagre ration, dried black bread or a raw vegetable. Ingrid would come back and put this by the cell door, sometimes with a steel cup full of brackish water which was what she knew the girls craved. She would watch them turn and then often kick the cup over forcing the girl to suck her drink from the filth encrusted floor.

What neither of the stupid bitches realised for days was that the amount of food allowed her was directly related to the length and severity of the beating that had preceded it.

 

The first moment of  learning came when Ingrid stood over the younger of the two, watching the thin welts rise on the surface of the bruised skin, the ribs showing  beneath her pale and blotchy flesh more every day, her thin stick like arms...........broken. Ingrid was breathing slowly and very audibly in the gasmask when the girl had reached out very tentatively and touched the flail.

“ Please............... More please..........................”

Ingrid slowly nodded – the first interplay or communication the young girl had seen in weeks, grinned beneath the mask and beat her for twenty minutes until she was insensible and then left. An hour later cheese, grapes and bread were pushed through the slot at the foot of the door into the cell and the light was turned on. The ravenous victim ate gratefully

Her companion took another week to learn the same lesson. Pain brings comfort, pain is survival, asking for pain gets human recognition.

 

The process has progressed. Ingrid looks in the full length mirror by the door, black gasmask in place, a white rubber apron today over her black latex work dress and in her hand a cattle prod which she alternates with the flail, cat, tawse or cane as the instrument of correction.

 She turns on the light and opens the door, the girl is waiting, kneeling, legs wide in the centre of the cell, head bowed. Her hands are at her genitals, she looks up at Ingrid who nods and then she begins to rub at herself, her bony fingers on her clitoris and cradling her cunt. Ingrid folds her arms and watches leaning back against the steel door. The girl is breathing heavily, faster with every moment, she mews and works even more rapidly, one hand lifts to grip her wasted breast and pinches the nipple, she rocks back and forth. Ingrid stands over her and studies her movements, notes the red flush on her victim’s skin, the fattening lips, she grips the matted hair again and gently pulls the head back, looks into the eyes and sees the dilated pupils. Yes she is fully aroused.

 

She turns on the electric prod and the girl flinches as she hears the faint hum but she recognises it and squeals as a thrill of sexuality runs through her bruised little body.

Tzzztttt!

Ingrid touches the prod to her thigh and she screams and jerks.

Tzzztttt!

Tzzztttt!

Ingrid moves around her and randomly presses the jolts of electricity to back, neck, breasts, belly. It is the last that makes the girl climax, she wails and shudders and then falls forward her head to the floor, arse high. sobbing.

 

Ingrid leans down and presses her black fingers into the exposed cunt. The girl is slick with sexual arousal, she grips the filthy hair and lifts the bitch back to her position.

Then totally unexpectedly she presses herself to the kneeling figure, strokes her hair and coos at her in German.

“ Sklavin gut, schone sklavin.”

 

Tears springing from her eyes the slave embraces Ingrid, rubbing her face against the thick white rubber apron, she cries and Ingrid slowly lowers herself and places the snout of her gasmask on the girl’s mouth in a bizarre simulation of a kiss.

It is a VERY satisfying moment.

Ingrid remains so for twenty minutes until the slave is almost asleep in her arms and then gently rises, her clothes plucking as she does so, skirts slithering over her legs as she stands. The girl pathetically clings to her weeping and begging her to stay, gently but insistently Ingrid disengages herself and leaves the cell but she leaves the light within it on.

 

 She returns fifteen minutes later and is pleased to see that her toy is immediately repeating her previous performance and she hastens her to climax by insinuating the tip of the prod between her rubbing hands to the nub of the clitoris, the girl stiffens and then Ingrid inflicts a series of jolts directly to the cunt, making her pupil scream and jerk with every shock. Her orgasm though is immediate and she collapses onto her back.

When she opens her eyes, her mouth slack and drooling it is to see  Ingrid is putting a full length black latex nightgown over her head, helping her little fists through the armholes and shucking it down over her thin body.

After her weeks of naked incarceration slave has now been clothed for her good behaviour and Ingrid lifts her to her feet to embrace her, she is sobbing but calm as Ingrid smoothes her grease and filth encrusted hair with one thick black rubber gloves whilst the little object presses her face to her breasts.

 

Eventually she leaves, making the girl lay on the floor in a foetal position before closing the cell door and turning off the light but with another switch she allows some heating to flow into the cell for the first time taking it to a reasonable level.

 

A good slave is an aroused slave – arousal is contact with a superior, pain brings food and arousal.

 

Upstairs Ingrid tells Stella of the success and the woman is so impressed she immediately dresses to witness a repeat performance for herself despite the lateness of the hour for it is past 11pm by this time.

In a slim black rubber dress and gasmask Stella sits on a folding chair and watches as Ingrid puts the girl through her paces. Of course the prisoner is shocked at seeing someone else with her tormentor and trainer but she accepts it and when Stella stands and begins to beat her with the vicious plaited whip she holds she climaxes yet again despite a clitoris sore to the point of almost providing a focus for her orgasm in itself.

 

The reward is immediate, Ingrid prepares a hose and when she re-enters the cell Stella lifts the girl, pulls off the rubber gown, already filthy, and positions the girl with her little hands against the wall, legs spread. Stella hoses her and Ingrid runs soap over her body, cleaning it thoroughly - her fingers deep in the cleft of the buttocks where it is filthiest and then into her cunt and mouth. An efficient and thorough operation which ends with the girl kneeling in the middle of the cell whilst her head is shaven, her filthy locks falling to the ground around her.

She is totally accepting and acquiescent, the attention and stimulus is so unusual with two of her jailers working on her, sometimes patting her cheeks in recognition of her good behaviour, sometimes pinching at her flesh playfully. She is hosed again and then receives her gown again, Ingrid grips her arm and accompanied by Stella they leave the original cell for the first time.

The girl can now see that her cell was only one of many, as if to prove the point Stella pushes her to her knees and then presses her head to the floor whilst Ingrid moves to open another door. She hears the screams and the sounds of the beatings she herself is so familiar with, there are other girls here ( the voice is so obviously female ) she is only one of many..................her previous life has taken on a totally unreal quality and now she knows she will never leave. This is her new reality.

 

When the cell door is slammed shut again she is bidden to rise. With her upper arms gripped by one of the masked figures on each side she is walked to the end of the corridor, then to the left, to the left again and into a new cell. No windows of course but a much larger room, rubber tiled in a chequer board pattern with a mattress in the corner covered in red rubber sheeting, a spigot in the wall for water and a hole in the floor in the corner where she is led and forced to squat, Ingrid silently lifting her gown. She understands this is for her to urinate or defecate. She nods.

 

Stella leads her to the mattress and pushes her onto it. She is tired and the softness beneath her as well as the human contact she has received have made her languorous. She is aware of the taller of her jailers putting a deep black rubber collar around her neck which forces her chin up, she can hear the links of the long chain to which it is attached running over the floor and her body............but she is tired and almost before they plunge her into total darkness she is asleep.

 

Stella and Ingrid  remove their gasmasks and hang them on the pegs at the bottom of the stairs which lead up to the house, they link hands as they climb. Stella will reward her “ strong and handsome girl “  by being her bed partner for the remainder of the night.

 

 

Week 43

 

The girl grunts and then her back arches, pressing her body against the broad leather straps securing her to the operating theatre table. Then she begins a strange keening ululation a prolonged nh nh nh as the electricity hammers through her brain, Stella watches intently breathing in the distress and animalistic cries of a body in agony as though perfume, she is standing, arms crossed about a yard from the tableau.

 

Ingrid cradles the shaven head of the tormented girl as the Electro Convulsive Therapy continues, she stares down into the unseeing and unblinking eyes and then kisses the twitching face on the cheek though her latex surgical mask.

She has chosen the appearance of operating theatre staff in her loose green and blue rubber gowns, cap, mask and white rubber boots but the “ treatment “ being given to the girl is no act of a tender carer, rather the opposite. The little body slowly relaxes as Ingrid stops the electrical shocks, there is a long exhalation from the mouth which is  filled with a thick red rubber tube, which both ensures the airways are open and stops the patient biting off her own tongue, as the arched back relaxes and then lowers onto the operating table.

Then suddenly and involuntarily she spasms again, feet jerking.

“ What was that?” Asks Stella.

“ Nothing Stella, it sometimes goes on for several hours, it is best to keep the cunt here for a while where I can watch her.”

“ Is that enough Ingrid?” Asks Stella unfolding her arms and advancing to put a hand on Ingrid’s gleaming shoulder..

“ It is enough. It is a lot more than I gave the other and that made her incontinent and semi conscious for a week. “

“ Good. I know it may mean it is not ready for the client on time but any tiny shreds of resistance or personality must be removed entirely. This works as I know from melanie, she will do anything to avoid it.”

She turns to look at the slave daughter who is cowering in a corner of the operating room, hunched into a foetal position her naked body shaking, covering her ears with her hands, eyes closed and whimpering.