Working Late by Rubberwolf
© 2003 - Rubberwolf - storycodes: Sbf; latex; F/f; bondage; Rubberdoll; packaged; kidnap; enclosed; cons; X

Late by Rubberwolf
Foreword

Surprisingly, this has evolved in to a consensual story. Initially, I had considered the tried and tested, non-consensual, automatic packaging theme. Perhaps I will still write a story along those lines. Although this is slightly out of character, I think it works well and there is still an element of reluctance. Anyway, enjoy.

Rubberwolf.

Working Late by Rubberwolf

At nineteen, most girls of Nicole’s age would have been horrified by having to work in a rubber doll factory. Unlike most girls however, Nicole was not bothered at all by the products that her company sold. It certainly gave her something to talk about at parties. The looks of shock and disbelief that come over people’s faces. It is not so much what she does at the factory. After all, an accounts assistant is hardly scandalous. But as soon as she mentions that she works for “Rubberdoll’s”, the look of boredom that typically glazes peoples faces at the mention of accounts, suddenly transforms in to one of astonishment and disbelief.

Apart from the benefit of being able to wind up anally retentive strangers, the job itself was pretty straightforward and due to the size of the company, the accounts team was pretty small. This meant that Nicole was called upon to do a greater variety of works than somebody in a similar position for a larger company. Typically, accounts assistants would specialise in a particular area: Purchase ledger, credit control, etc. But Nicole was receiving a wider education. The company was even paying for her to attend night classes so that she could gain her accountancy qualifications. This, combined with a wage packet well above what she could expect with another company, ensured that Nicole was very happy with her choice of employer.

One draw back was that it could interfere with her social life. Firstly, the reaction that boys displayed when they found out where she worked. They would assume that she was easy, or some form of hooker, just because of her companies’ reputation. This had ruined more than one date. Another problem was month end, when all of the books for the month must be totalled up, ensuring that all discrepancies were accounted for, before being entered in to the ledgers. That was why she was the only person still at work, at six o clock on a Friday evening.

“Rubberdoll’s” had not gained its reputation by simply manufacturing sex dolls. “Rubberdoll” products were of a very high quality. Rather than the simple inflatable balloons manufactured by other producers, “Rubberdoll’s” had attempted to carve out a niche for itself on the higher priced end of the demand curve. The dolls themselves where therefore constructed of high quality materials. The skeleton and musculature were lovingly recreated in plastics, silicon and latex. The eyes were made to the same specifications as those used as cosmetic replacements in hospitals. Even the teeth were of dental quality. Over all, “Rubberdoll’s” had created fair facsimiles of the women, down to the tiniest detail.

Where “Rubberdoll’s” differed from its competitors in this small but lucrative market was that the dolls could be outfitted and posed in accordance with the tastes of the customer. Consequently, the clothes that the company ordered the most from their suppliers ranged from the slightly kinky, to the decidedly perverse. In addition to a choice of clothes, the customer could arrange to have the doll delivered wearing a variety of bondage items, ready posed and bound within the crate. Nicole was not sure that she approved of the company’s catering to specific fetishes in this manner. But she had to admit that they had carved a very profitable niche for themselves.

One of the fringe benefits, when called upon to work late, was that Nicole had access to a variety of exciting clothes that she could try on at her leisure, certain that there would be no one in the factory until the Saturday deliveries needed to be dispatched at seven o’clock. Nicole had therefore spent several nights working late while kited out in fetish wear, with a vibrator buzzing away happily as she sat at her desk. With this in mind, Nicole got herself a coffee from the machine, before heading in to the factory.

Nicole walked alongside the production line as she headed for the warehouse racks that contained the clothes she wanted to look at. She sipped her coffee as she took in the surreal visions of bound and gagged dolls near packaging. The dolls wore a variety of outfits, depending upon the customer’s tastes. Some of the dolls were unbound, lying stiffly on their pallets. Naked dolls. Dolls dressed in skimpy underwear, or a variety of mini skirts and crop tops, seemed to compete for attention beside their more extreme sisters. Rubber costumes caught her eye as they lay in their high gloss splendour. Some wore dresses, or cat suits, while others wore manacles, bound in agonising positions that would have been painfully uncomfortable for a real woman. She was reminded of images from the silent era, in which the damsel was bound and gagged on a conveyor belt, struggling desperately against her bonds as she inched ever closer to the spinning saw blade which would cut her in to quivering, bloody sushi.

Nicole was not surprised to find that she was getting wet at the thought of the strange costumes and the bondage worn by the dolls. It always had the same effect when she saw them and for some reason she always chose rubber outfits for her when she found herself alone in the factory.

By the time she reached the doll moulds, which led to the warehouse section, she was dripping wet from her thoughts. She imagined herself in the dolls place, wrapped in rubber and bound hand and foot. She would squirm and writhe, screaming in to her gag, as she lay imprisoned on her pallet awaiting delivery to her new master.

At last, she reached the garments section of the warehouse and began to rummage through hangers and boxes in order to find tonight’s outfit. After twenty minutes she had finished her coffee and picked out suitable clothing. The warehouse was a little chilly and so, as per normal, she decided to return to her office and change there, noting the locations of all of the items on a sheet of paper before setting off.

Once back at the office, she placed the clothes on her desk, before standing next to her computer and stripping her normal clothes off. Once she had hung her work clothes on her chair, she turned hungry eyes on to the more exciting outfits awaiting her.

The first item that she chose from the pile was a pair of bright red rubber knickers. She stepped in to these and pulled them up her legs. Stopping short of her crotch, she reached over to the pile of clothes and picked up the large dildo that she had rummaged through three boxes to find. Opening her legs and bending over slightly, she inserted the huge object in to her waiting pussy. The knickers also contained a dildo, although this was a little smaller and designed for her other passage. Taking a tube of KY jelly from her handbag, she smeared a generous dollop on to the butt plug before inserting it in to her ass and pulling the pants up the rest of the way. A rubber hose attached to a bulb protruded from the pants, where the hose joined the butt plug. Squeezing the bulb she was able to inflate the anal intruder. After eight pumps she felt wickedly uncomfortable and removed the hose from the end of the pants, leaving only the small stub from the valve visible.

Next on the agenda was a harsh looking red corset, with open bust, which she quickly placed around her middle and doing up the front. Once she was satisfied that the garment was in place, she took hold of the laces at the back and threaded the right hand lace twice under the left, before pulling them tight. Although she could say that she was now wearing the corset, it was not done up as tightly as she would normally like. She therefore walked over to the closed door and tied the ends of the laces to the stout doorknob. Once she was satisfied that the laces were secure, she leant forward, putting all of her body weight on to the laces, a technique that she had perfected through trial and error.

As a testimony to her ingenuity, her waistline began to diminish noticeably with each downward thrust of her body until she had attained, what she considered, her ideal shape, a twenty-inch waist. Once satisfied, she reached behind her back and placed a finger on the knot before reaching with her other hand to undo the laces from the doorknob. She then expertly tied the laces in to a loop with her other hand, so that the garment looked as though it had been fitted professionally.

Nicole admired herself in the small make up mirror from her handbag before returning her attention to the rest of the pile on her desk. Next she rolled a pair of red rubber stockings on to her legs, giving them a glossy perfection that no fifteen-denier tights could match.

“I really am in a red mood tonight,” Nicole mused as she selected a pair of red, patent leather court shoes, with impossible six inch, stiletto heals.

After standing up and trying her balance, she strode over to her desk, enjoying the feeling of tightness in her calves as she swayed provocatively across the short space and pulled out a pair of arm length rubber opera gloves, which she rolled on to her arms with the aid of more talcum powder.

Next Nicole reached for a bright rubber hood. There was an oval cut out of the front, so that her face was exposed and another hole in the top for her hair. Once she had pulled this over her head, her long blond hair crested out of the top of the hood in a ponytail. Nicole thought she looked like she belonged on stage at the Moulin Rouge with her bright headdress.

A severe, bright red, posture collar was next. Nicole felt wonderfully constrained as collar enclosed her neck. Fumbling behind her, she managed to lock the collars small padlock in place. Escape if not for the key, which she placed on the desk, would now be impossible.

With the outfit complete, she now reached in to her knickers and twisted the knob at the bottom of the dildo, which dutifully vibrated in to life. Getting up from her desk, she strode over to the door and out in to the warehouse, luxuriating in the feel of tight rubber as she paraded around the warehouse in her high heels. After about fifteen minutes, she returned to her desk. With great effort, she pulled the chair back over to her desk and began to fit the accessories.

The first item was a bright red, rubber penis gag, which she swallowed greedily, before attaching the ends of the gag to re-enforced buckles on the rubber hood. Once she had pulled the straps as tightly as they would go, the lower half of her face was covered in bright rubber, and the rubber penis filled her mouth tightly.

Bending over, she attached a pair of rubber cuffs to her knees, so that they were drawn tightly together. A similar pair of cuffs that she attached to her ankles followed this. These were locked in place with tiny pad locks and the keys were again placed on her desk.

Finally, she attached a set of rubber cuffs to her wrists, linked by a small chain that ensured she could still operate her key board, which were again locked in place with pad locks.

Almost before she had locked the final cuff, her orgasm nearly overwhelmed her. Arching her back and closing her eyes, she fumbled to place the last key on to her desk as her body was wracked by an intense orgasm.

As her senses returned to normal, she pulled the chair forward and continued to work on her files. For the next forty-five minutes she continued to alternate between mind-blowing orgasms and the drudgery of her day-to-day work, until she came to a problem. Perhaps it was the fact that she did not have her mind on the job, but she could not make one account balance.

After fifteen minutes of searching, she still could not find the records that would balance this account. Perhaps, she mused; the records had not been posted over to her terminal from her employer’s computer. This was easy enough for the industrious Nicole to solve, since her employer had been a little lax with her machines pass word and so Nicole logged out of her machine and, taking the user name and password from a sheet of paper in her draw, logged on as Ms Granger.

After a little while, she found the file that she was looking for, although this only seemed to make her problems worse. Large sums of money seemed to be moving through this account, but she still could not reconcile these sums against the companies stock. Most of the stock attributed to this account made sense. It was just the sums involved that didn’t. There had to be other documents to account for this. But after an hours search, she still could not make sense of the figures. It began to dawn on Nicole that her employers might be involved in illegal practices. Perhaps they were laundering money for the mob. She did not know, but decided to find out and so, after turning off the dildo, returned her attention to the screen.

Lindsey Granger drove around the city centre for the second time in ten minutes, with still no sign of a parking space. She was becoming increasingly frustrated. The woman who sat behind the wheel of the Jaguar was a completely different persona to the Lindsey Granger who owned and ran “Rubberdoll’s”. Her business suite and sensible shoes were forgotten for another weekend in favour of an outfit that screamed dominatrix, with all of the subtlety of a slap in the face with a wet haddock.

A shiny black rubber cat suite, complete with six inch, thigh length boots, with harsh, gothic make up and her hair drawn back in to a severe pony tail left little doubt about where Ms Granger stood in the sexual pecking order. During the week, one could not meet a more conservative woman, but the weekend was a different matter.

Cursing under her breath, she resigned herself to another circuit of the town centre, when her pager bleeped at her from her shiny black, spiky handbag. Stopping the car, she reached in to her bag and squinted in to the screen.

“Shit,” she cursed, as she gunned the engine and headed back to work at high speed.

Although Ms Granger had been less than vigilant with her password, she had taken the precaution of connecting a speed text to her computer, so that if certain files were accessed, the machine automatically contacted her pager with details of the files accessed, from which terminal and the time of entry. Therefore she not only knew that someone had accessed her computer, but had a good idea of who that someone was. Even so, her mind was still swirling with images of police raids, or of computer hackers breaking in to her system, as she sped in to the company car park.

Making sure that she parked out of sight of the security cameras, or the main entrance, she stepped from the car and chose a side door to enter the building. Once she was inside, she locked the door and carefully eased her way towards the accounts office. Stealth, she decided, was not easily accomplished, when walking on a hard cement floor wearing six-inch heals. Despite the difficulties, she managed to get to the accounts office door without being detected.

The door had been left open and gingerly she peered around the corner of the doorframe.

“You kinky bitch, if I’d have known your preference when you started….”

Getting over her initial shock at the rubber-clad girl before her, she took in the surroundings, noting the pile of keys on the desk. If she could get those keys, then maybe… Lindsey smiled as a plan began to take shape. She would need more equipment for her plan to work, but it offered her the chance to avoid prison and have some fun at the same time.

Quietly, Lindsey backed away from the door and headed back in to the factory.

Before going in to the racks, she found a pallet and a pump truck, so that she could move items with ease. She then started her search in earnest, moving at speed between the racks, rummaging through pallets and boxes, until she had everything that she needed. Once she was satisfied, she returned to the offices as stealthily as possible, which, she considered was virtually impossible, given her heels and the fact that she was pulling a rumbling pump truck behind her.

Lindsey did her best to control her nerves. But it was not easy given the combined noise of the pump truck and the staccato click of heels on the cement floor. However, once she had parked the truck and again peeped through the open door of the accounts office, she noticed that her quarry had not moved.

Having spent the last hour fruitlessly searching through various files in order to make sense of this one annoying account, Nicole felt that she needed a reward. Despite being spooked by the occasional noise from the warehouse, she had decided that she was still alone in the building. Besides, anybody coming in at this late hour would have used the main car park, which she could clearly see from her office window. She was also feeling incredibly horny and she could not wait another second to continue where she had left off earlier and so she reached between her legs and turned the dildo on.

After several minutes, she again heard noises from the factory. But she didn’t care. Her orgasm was building nicely and god did she need a release. Just as she was about to come, a sudden movement caught her eye. She turned in shock to see a black, rubber clad hand withdrawing from the desk with all of her keys.

Nicole reacted with desperate speed, but was inhibited by her handcuffs and all of the other restraints. Turning too quickly, she could not stop herself from falling off of the swivel chair and landing face first, on to the floor, with a loud “Mppph”. Recovering herself with as much dignity as possible, she eased herself up on to her knees and looked in to the face of the person who had stolen her only hope of release.

If it were not for the gag, Nicole would have gaped openly at the sight before her. All of the excuses and apologies that filled her head, fled at the vision of dominance and confidence that stood before her, dangling the keys in her raised hand with a look of triumph on her face. Although she recognised the face of her manager instantly, she had never seen Lindsey wear such clothes, or an expression that promised such wicked retribution.

“My, you are a kinky little bitch aren’t you?” Ms Granger taunted as she stepped closer to inspect her prize.

Grabbing Nicole by the chin, she raised the girl’s head so that she could look her in the eyes. Nicole did her best to return her stare with as much confidence as it was possible for her to muster in her current position.

“You have a strong will as well. Good, I shall enjoy breaking you. But we shall address that later. First, I think we should dress you in something more appropriate for my slave.”

Lindsey’s heart missed a beat and she felt a distinct quiver from her pussy as the implications of what she had just heard sunk in. She was so wrapped up in her own imagination that she did not notice Ms Granger leave; only returning to the present at the sound of her new mistress dumping a pile of rubber clothes on the floor in front of her.

Ms Granger selected an item from the pile and advanced towards her new slave.

“Although I approve of your new attire, I feel it needs something more,” Ms Granger purred as she put a rubber something on the desk and then rummaged through her keys.

Once she had found the right key, she bent over the kneeling girl and unlocked the posture collar. Placing this on the desk, she then picked up the rubber something that she had placed there earlier. Nicole discovered, as Ms Granger sprinkled it with Nicole’s’ talcum powder and pulled over her head, that it was another hood. Her mistress stepped behind her in order to pull the gloss red prison over her face. Once she had worked out all of the creases and pulled Nicole’s hair through a convenient hole, she then pulled the straps tight so that Nicole’s feeling of tight enclosure was magnified a thousand times. To add to her disorientation, the hood had neither eye, nor mouth holes. Two small holes allowed her to breathe through her nose. But all of Nicole’s senses were either closed off completely, or muffled.

“There. That’s more comfortable for you isn’t it dear. But oh, did you put this corset on yourself. Tsk, Tsk.” Ms Granger scolded as she pushed the girl face first on to the floor, to land with a distinct Mpph for the second time that evening and set about undoing the laces.

After inserting a knee in to the girls back and pulling with all of her might, Ms Granger found herself out of breath, but quite contented as she surveyed Nicole’s new, eighteen-inch waistline. Returning to the pile, she selected a rubber mini-dress that zipped up at the front. Before

Ms Granger took advantage of her prisoners’ disorientation as she lifted the prone girl’s ankles and slipped over her legs, pulling the garment until the shoulders were level with Nicole’s pussy. Bending over, Nicole’s new mistress grabbed the wrist chains and pulled the girl upright. She then pulled the dress up a little further before undoing one cuff and quickly attaching it to the desk leg, forcing her slave to bend over slightly. Taking the free hand, she then guided it in to the long sleeve of the dress. She then undid the cuff from the leg of the desk and re-attached it to Nicole’s wrist, before repeating the process with the other arm.

Once Nicole was securely in the dress, she quickly pulled up the zipper, compressing the girl’s breasts, finally securing the zip with a buckle that pulled tightly across the girl’s throat.

“There, that looks much better. But oh, I have made a mistake. This is a dress with nipple holes,” Mistress Granger explained as she cruelly pinched the prominent nipple that poked through the garment. “We shall have to cover it with something. We can not have you flaunting yourself in such an undignified manner,” she continued with a distinct smirk as she bent down and retrieved the nipple clamps that she had selected earlier and painfully applied first one, and then the other to Nicole’s prominent nipples.

Nicole was lost in a world of submissive bliss as her new mistress manhandled her. She had dreamed of being held captive and abused for so long that the reality was proving too much for her. The vibrator was still on inside of her. But the nipple clamps proved one stimulation too many for her and her orgasm swept over her as her new mistress applied the second clamp and twisted it painfully causing her to buck and writhe in her bonds as she was overcome by beautifully enclosed, painful, bliss.

The girls’ orgasm did not go unnoticed by her new mistress. Once she had finished writhing, she was brought back to reality by a painful slap across the face.

“Did I tell you that you could have an orgasm?” Ms Granger angrily demanded as she slapped the stunned girl again. “Well, did I?” she screamed as she slapped the girl again. “I will not have you getting yourself off just when you feel like it my girl.”

Unlocking the girls’ wrists, she roughly bent her over the desk as she grabbed an arm binder from her pile of toys and roughly forced Nicole’s arms in to the single rubber sheath. Once she had pulled the laces as tightly as she could, Nicole’s elbows touched. The sheath had an integral collar, which was attached to the arm binder by thick leather straps. She fitted this roughly to the girls’ neck, ensuring that the sheath would not work its way down Nicole’s arms.

Leaving the girl bent over the desk, she returned to the warehouse, returning a few minutes later brandishing a riding crop. The first that Nicole knew of this was when she heard a distinct “Whooshing” sound, followed by a painful slap across both of her buttocks.

“Arnghh,” Nicole screamed in to the gag.

This first assault was followed by a torrent of blows that left Nicole crying uncontrollably in to her gag and Lindsey with a sore arm.

“Think about that the next time you cum without permission,” her new mistress scolded her.

Ms Granger disdainfully discarded the riding crop with a sweep of her arm, sending it with expert precision to lie at the sobbing girls’ feet. Although tired from her exertions, she still had work to do and so she strode over to the desk and shoved her new slave on to the floor.

“The shoes are nice. But I think we can do a little better,” Ms Granger informed Nicole as she removed the red court shoes and undid her ankles.

Reaching over to the diminished pile, she picked up a pair of bright red, lace up, patent leather, ballet boots, which looked exquisitely painful with their ten-inch stiletto, heels. She placed them on to the un-protesting Nicole’s feet and tied the laces up tightly, finishing the binding by pulling a pair of straps over the laces and padlocking in place. She then re-buckled the rubber strap around the girls’ ankles.

Next she took a short chain from her pile and ran it through the steel loop that was attached to the bottom of the arm binder. The other end was fed through the rubber strap that secured Nicole’s ankles. Once she had drawn them together tightly, so that Nicole had to arch her back, Lindsey fixed the chain in place with a stout pad lock.

The last item on the pile was another padlock and chain. This was fed through the rubber strap that secured the ankles. The other end of the chain was fed through a steel loop on the top of the rubber hood. This was again pulled tightly and secured with a pad lock, forcing a distinct bow in Nicole’s back and eliciting a grunt from the trussed slave, as her head was forced painfully back to look, if her eyes were not covered, at the office ceiling.

Stepping back, sweating from her exertions, Lindsey admired her work.

“Oh well, no rest for the wicked,” Lindsey chimed as she set about clearing up Nicole’s belongings and stuffing them in to a poly sack.

Returning to the computer, she amended the company file that had Nicole so engrossed. Pulling up the main order menu, she processed an order for one rubber doll, including accessories, to her own account. She then brought up the girls bank account details and transferred thirty thousand from the company account and in to Nicole’s.

“That should explain your sudden disappearance,” Ms Granger beamed as she logged off.

She then picked up her prize by the ankle/head chain and carried her over to the waiting pump truck and dumping her on to its pallet. She then returned to the office and picked up the bag containing Nicole’s belongings and making sure to turn off all of the lights. She then dumped the sack next to the neatly hog tied form of her new slave and wheeled the pump truck towards the packaging section of the warehouse.

Before being placed in to their packing crates, the dolls are usually vacuum-sealed in plastic. They are then shrink wrapped to the pallet before being placed in to their crates and packed with Styrofoam chips. Nicole was to be no exception. This did however; present certain problems, as usually the dolls were not likely to breathe. Lindsey felt that she had a solution to this problem and so set off in to the warehouse to procure more equipment.

She returned a short while later with some duct tape, two vinyl tubes, a tube of clear rubber cement and a plastic lunch box. Taking the vinyl tubes, Lindsey inserted first one and then the other in to her slaves’ nose. Once they were firmly in place, she fixed them to Nicole’s face with a generous strip of tape. Satisfied, she moved the pallet over to the vacuum machine and pulled down a long strip of plastic from the dispenser.

Ms Granger spent several moments fiddling with the end of the sheet until she was able to open the plastic in to a tube. Bunching the plastic at one end, she pulled the plastic over Nicole’s head and down her body. Having judged that she had enough plastic to cover the girl’s body, she poked two small holes in to the plastic at the head end and inserted the two breathing tubes in to the holes, ceiling the tubes in place with clear rubber cement.

Once the cement had dried, she then rocked Nicole backwards on her pallet and pulled the bunched up sheeting forward. Rocking the girl the other way enabled Lindsey to pull the plastic covering past the girl’s feet, leaving a foot of plastic clear of the body.

The pallet had been positioned in to the bay of the vacuum machine and it was therefore relatively easy to feed the end of the plastic sheeting in to its appropriate slot. Once she was satisfied, she started the sealing process.

Firstly, all of the air was pumped out of the plastic tube, via hoses mounted in the dispenser and the end slot. The heavy gauge plastic soon clung tightly around the already immobile dolly. Nicole was not sure what was happening; only that her enclosure had somehow grown stricter and that it was now impossible to move. Once the air had been pumped out of the sheet, both ends were heated

The end of the plastic, which had been placed on to a metal bar, was sandwiched between a similar bar clamped down on top of the first, with the plastic lain flat, pressed between the two. The two bars were now heated and, once the appropriate temperature was reached, a blade travelled down the other side of the bars, cutting off the surplus plastic. The bars then separated automatically, leaving the end of the plastic sheeting perfectly sealed, like the bottom of a carrier bag. This happened simultaneously at both ends, releasing the now encased dolly ready for further packaging.

Pulling the pump truck clear, Lindsey placed the lidless plastic lunch box, base side up, on to the pallet and used a screwdriver to punch two holes in its base. The two breathing tubes were then fed in to the holes and secured with glue. Ensuring that the box was positioned over a generous gap in the wooden boards, she then taped it in place.

She now moved her prize over to the shrink-wrap bay and, pulling off about three feet of wrap, secured one end to the pallet. Starting the machine, the turntable that the pallet was resting on began to rotate as the plastic was wrapped in an X formation over the prone girl. Once this sequence had finished, starting at the bottom and working up and down, shrink-wrap was applied vertically as the turntable spun, leaving the dolly firmly secured on the pallet.
Having completed the wrapping process, Ms Granger pulled off the wrap that was connected to the machine and affixed it to the pallet. She then wheeled the pump truck over to the crating bay. Once in place, she activated the machine, which ejected a crate from the top of the device and lowered it gently on to the crate. Four metal bars now rose up around the sides of the pallet and clamped themselves firmly to the lower section of the crate. A Loud bang indicated that the compressed air nails, which were stationed in rows along the bars, had been fired in to the crate, fixing it firmly to the pallet. A chute, positioned above the lidless crate, then emptied a measured amount of Styrofoam in to the crate and over the bound Nicole. Once the crate was full to the brim with Styrofoam, a lid was lowered, on runners, on to the top of the crate, before a square mechanism clamped itself on to the top of the crate and emptied its load of nails, ceiling the crate. Although this complex piece of machinery had set Ms Granger back a cool one and a half million, she now considered that it was worth every penny.

Once this stage was completed, she pulled the now considerable weight over to the loading bays. Having dropped the load in the appropriate bay, she walked in to the dispatch office, booted up the computer and processed the shipping order that would see her new slave arrive at her house with the eight am Saturday delivery. Printing off the appropriate labels, she then walked back over to her crate and placed the shipping label on to the side.

Ms Granger had a distinct spring in her step as she walked across the car park to Nicole’s car. Fumbling in the sack, she soon found the girls handbag and car keys. She was in for a busy night; Lindsey contemplated as she drove to the address listed on the personnel files for Nicole Baker. She would have to empty the flat of clothes and other personal belongings, before dumping them at the tip. But first she must go home and change. There is, she considered, little point in drawing attention to herself and she would have to take the bus back to “Rubberdoll’s” in order to retrieve her car. All in all though, she considered the nights activities well worth the effort and could not help but chuckle at the prospect of unwrapping her post tomorrow.

The Rubber doll, formerly known as Nicole Baker, contemplated her new position from the perspective of someone who now knew that one should be careful what one wishes for, or at least fantasises about. When she had admired the dolls on the production line earlier, they had seemed exciting and sexy. The reality was all too uncomfortable. Her back ached, as did her neck, from the tight bondage that had placed her in this merciless hog tie. Her arms had gone numb, although the muscles across her chest ached from the prolonged unnatural position and her shoulders were agony. Her jaw hurt from being prized open for so long and she cursed the fact that she had chosen such a large cock to swallow. The butt plug was uncomfortable, as was the large dildo that still buzzed merrily in her pussy. Why had she chosen a twelve-inch dildo, with a four-inch girth? But the most worrying thing was the fact that she could no longer feel her nipples. She worried about the lack of circulation. Would they be blackened and dried when the clamps were eventually removed? Would her new mistress even care? Ms Grangers new “Rubberdoll” sobbed in to her gag, shedding tears that were easily soaked up by the blindfold, as the dolly cried for the life that she had lost and for the life that she had gained.

End.

16.12.03

Gromet's Plaza - Latex Stories Working Late 2 by Rubberwolf
© 2004 - Rubberwolf - storycodes: F/f; latex; kidnap; bondage; rubberdoll; packaged; nc; X

By Rubberwolf

Julie had enjoyed a productive summer. In fact, the past year had rushed by in a blur which, upon reflection, seemed to consist of her rushing to classes, or staying up until two or three in the morning working on assignments, fuelled by strong coffee (Dark roast, percolated on her stove in a steel coffee pot which produced the sort of thick, strong, rocket fuel essential to late night study.) or beer. After her assignments had been handed in, or she had sat an exam, there would inevitably be a party, several of which she only just remembered, the precise details of which had been eradicated through the excess of beer and dope that accompanied such occasions.

Now, the summer was nearly over and she would return to university with sufficient funds to stabilise her bank account and to pay for next years rent. This was due more to luck, than judgement. The position that she had arranged for herself over the summer break, which would have enriched her CV with three months experience in a marketing company, had fallen through at the last minute and Nicola had been forced in to a mad, last minute, scramble to find work. She had therefore signed up with several temporary agencies and had spent the summer taking whatever work she could get.

Her current position, the fourth that the agency had sent her on, was not glamorous, CV enriching, or interesting. But it paid well. That had become very important to her, following the excesses of the previous year. Although the people were friendly and, all things considered, factory work was not as demeaning as she had assumed, this aspect of her career would not be perused by future, prospective employers and would simply be omitted from her employment history by stating that she had conducted temporary work over the summer and naming some of her more prestigious contracts.

One benefit to this type of work, however, was that she did not have to spend a vast quantity of time getting ready in the morning. She did not have to wear smart jackets, short skirts; highs heals, or apply tons of make up. There was also a sense of camaraderie among the workers. Although she had felt like an outsider, since she did not share her colleagues passion for sport, or cars she had still managed to fit in enough to be invited on “Works Nights Out” by her new work mates. This often involved bowling, Indian restaurants and nightclubs. Although it would have been easy to blow her money in this manner, Julie was careful, so that while she brought the appropriate number of rounds, when required, did not splash out and ruin her nest egg.

Although she enjoyed herself on these occasions, she did not attract as much male attention as some of her co-workers. She was, she felt, quite good looking, with her long blond hair, 34 – 22 – 34 figure and 5’10” stature. Her personality, she concluded, was just not extrovert enough to be attractive to the opposite sex. Perhaps all that they saw was the tall, lanky, bespectacled bookworm that she was. Intelligent, good looking, but a book worm all the same. Although people would start up a conversation with her, or accidentally bump in to her, after half an hour of conversation, their faces would glaze over as she tried to discuss the pros and cons of monetarism and how current economic thinking had taken on aspects of Freidmans ideas and joined them with traditional Keynesian thinking, producing a mongrel philosophy that appeared to work. But despite this, she tried her best to fit in and let her hair down.

It had been, or so Julie felt, a long summer. Today was her last day at “Rubberdolls” and although her hands did everything that they were supposed to, which was spraying make up on to the life sized sex toys, her mind was already back at university, or more to the point, loading her clothes and possessions in to her car and planning where she would stop for lunch. Although she was already packed, she would not set off until Sunday morning when the traffic would be easier.

The sex industry, or at least this aspect of it, was not what she had imagined. She had expected to be working for Danny Devito, or somebody similar. Images of forty something’s wearing too much make up, tight leopard skins and stiletto heals had filled her mental imagery when the agency gave her this assignment. She had almost not taken the job, but the money was good. In reality, the owner, Ms Lindsey Grantham, had turned out to be smart businesswomen and her co-workers were probably representatives of production workers everywhere. Rather than a converted back street garage, the premises were large, modern and incorporated very expensive looking machines on the production line. Who would have thought that the demand for life like dolls dressed in rubber outfits would fund such a modern and well-presented operation? Perhaps, Julie mused; she had found her dissertation project.

Although Rubberdolls was set in large premises, the level of automation meant that only a small number of staff was required to run the operation. The company therefore had the feel of a family business, while offering the perks of a large organisation. Julie was not, therefore, surprised to find Ms Granger walking purposefully towards her towards the end of the shift.

“Hi Julie.”

Julie made the appropriate informal response that characterised the staff/management relationship of the firm.

“I know this is your last day with us and that you are going out for drinks later, but I was wandering if you could help me out. You see I have a large order that needs to go out tomorrow afternoon and I was wandering if you wouldn’t mind coming in to help out?”

Julie considered this for a moment before accepting. After all, she mused, she was not due to leave until Sunday and she could do with the extra money and so she accepted.

“That’s wonderful”, enthused Ms Granger. “Seeing as how it’s only one day, how about if we pay you double time, cash in hand?”

This Julie did not need to consider and readily accepted. After finalising the details, she returned to her painting. She stayed at the production line until a quarter to five. She then took out her time sheet, completed Friday’s hours and then went to find her supervisor so that he could sign the document.

After work she drove in to town, paying the usual extortionate parking fees, before walking in to town to post her time sheet at the agency. Once this chore was completed she returned to her car and drove home at a steady, rush hour, and crawl. This did not allow her a great deal of time to get showered and changed, but even so, after a quick bite to eat, she had changed from jeans and T shirt in to a black, strappy dress and heals and set off for a fair well drink with her friends from work.

Julie came to amid a jumble of confused memories, a sore head and the uncivilised volume of the alarm clock. Reaching over to her bedside table, the alarm clock was violently silenced by a good thump that landed, Julie supposed, on the off button. After five minutes pondering why her mouth felt like the bottom of a birdcage, what she did last night and why, being Saturday, she had set the alarm. Once these facts were more or less established, Julie rose from her bed with the sort of groan that would normally only escape the lips of a B movie zombie. Although the bathroom was only a short distance from her bedroom, reaching her objective was not as straight forward as is normally the case, since the route was mined with the discarded clothing, shoes and wine bottles of the night before.

Julie stood under the flowing water for ten minutes before actually starting to wash. But the water did its job and after twenty minutes Julie stepped out of the shower, not necessarily revived, but slightly less un-dead that when she had stepped in. Having attained a higher level of consciousness, somewhere between an ant and a slug, Julie now had a more or less complete picture of last nights embarrassing activities. Armed with this information, it was a major struggle for Julie not to crawl back in to bed, never to be seen in public again. However, after half an hour, she was dressed, had downed two glasses of orange juice and was heading out of the door.

Normally, the drive to work would take her an hour. However, driving to work on a Saturday morning, a full hour before the shops even considered opening, created the sort of roads that are normally only ever seen in car adverts. Deserted streets, with the first signs of life only now beginning to stir, while her fellow road users either returning home from a night out or, if driving to work, they were heading for the shops in the town centre. Consequently, Julie arrived at her destination a full half-hour before her shift was due to start.

After knocking on the door and finding that she was alone at the factory, Julie opened a fresh packet of cigarettes and stood by the door, one arm wrapped around her body as she filled her lungs with nicotine, in a futile attempt to keep the damp morning chill out of her bones. After the second cigarette, Julie turned around at the sound of an approaching car. Julie instantly recognised the dark Jaguar as her employers and, after watching it park, waited patiently while Ms Granger got out and strode across the car park.

After opening up the factory and exchanging pleasantries with Julie, Ms Granger explained the rush order and outlined the day’s objectives.

“Basically, we have to get three dolls ready for one of my longest standing customers. I will need to spend some time in the office, sorting the order out and confirming the delivery arrangements. But if you can press on I will join you later on and we should be able to wrap this up before lunch.”

Ms Granger then outlined the customer order in more detail, handing Julie the specific details for the dolls, including preferences of outfit, make up and, if requested, bondage, before setting off for her office.

Julie scanned the order, as well as the special instructions from the customer. Once she had a clear idea of what she would need to do, she walked down to the doll moulds to start on the order.

Initially, Julie had assumed that the company made inflatable sex toys. She was amazed to discover that, in addition to these simple products, Rubberdolls also catered for the more discerning fetishist. You could, for example, order inflatable dolls with cloths, wigs, sex toys and a variety of bondage gear. As the price of the doll increased, usually exponentially, so did the quality. The top of the range products looked very human. They incorporated a plastic skeleton, rubber muscles and realistic skin, so that, in the right light, one might mistake them for human. They could also be posed in any position required and were, as Julie had been shocked to discover, very anatomically correct. As well as choosing specific details on the doll, such as skin colour, height, weight, eye and hair colour, specify the sort of clothing that the doll was to wear. This ranged from the more traditional dolls cloths, such as beach wear, party dresses, period costumes, through a variety of hooker chic, right up to rubber fetish wear. In addition to this, the customer could ask for the doll to be bound, gagged, blindfolded, or any manner of things that took his, or her fancy. The dolls that Julie was to work on were of the very expensive kind.

Julie set to work gathering the materials required for the body. Fortunately, there were several dummies in stock and after confirming the size of doll required, pulled the partially completed bodies from the rack, lifting them in to wire cages before setting off for the moulds.

The partially completed dummies were as tall as Julie was. They also weighted as much as a real person of the same height, which made handling them difficult for a slim, nineteen year old girl to manoeuvre. They also gave her the creeps, since at this stage they looked like they would be more at home in a medical school, or modern art gallery because at this stage of their production, the dolls lacked skin. They had already been fitted with muscles around the basic skeleton. Purple and red tubes snaked their way across the body in a fair imitation of veins and arteries. But the grosses thing of all, as far as Julie was concerned, was the porcelain eyes that stared out of the grotesque features, since they looked the most life like eyes that she had ever seen. Julie had suffered from quite a few sleepless nights because of these dolls, imagining them blinking, coming to life and imprisoning her. Julie would usually wake up screaming as the jaws opened and the teeth descended towards her face.

However, despite her discomfort, she had work to do. The sooner these dummies had skin on them, the more comfortable she would feel and so, arriving at the moulds, Julie wrestled a dummy from the cage and stood it next to the mould. On the workbench next to the mould were several items that she would need. Firstly, she took two cups from the table. These were small, made of rubber and were the shape you would get if you cut a hollow ball in half. Two plastic ridges ran along the outside of the cup, in a good approximation of an eye. These were marked left and right and after some fiddling, Julie places them on to the china dolls eyes, before smearing the outside of the cup with a Vaseline type of substance. Next she fitted a length of plastic card over the immaculate teeth. The card fit over the teeth perfectly held in place by sticky gum. Again the card had a raised ridge running the length of it, in a fair imitation of a smile. More pieces of card were applied to other orifices, which again grossed Julie out. Plugs were also fitted to nose and ears, before applying more Vaseline. Finally, Julie picked the doll up and placed it, upright, in to the mould, before closing the two halves, positioning the plastic injectors and filling the mould. The moulds used a centrifugal force to ensure good coverage. This was accomplished by housing the mould in a frame similar to those used to train astronauts in weightlessness. This would spin and rotate the mould, causing the G forces that were created to force the liquid plastic in to every piece of the mould. While she was waiting for the first doll to cure, she repeated the process on the other two dolls. Finally, all three dolls were receiving their skins and so Julie, customer order in hand, set off for the warehouse racks to collect the clothes.

The three orders depicted the variety of fetish that she had come to expect. One of the dolls was to wear a rubber period costume, looking very much like the sort of doll that would be brought to look at, rather than play with. Black, ankle length, lace up boots, with distinctly non period six inch stiletto heals, would be worn alongside white rubber stockings, undershirt and petty-coats. The dolls dress, if fashioned from silk, or velvet, would be exquisite. As it was, the purple rubber, Julie imagined, would look very striking as the modern material aped the fashions of the mid 1800’s. The customer had also specified natural make up and thick, hair of thick copper curls.

In contrast to this, the second customer had requested a much more modern look. Long blond hair, bright make up, rubber corset, short skirt, stockings and knee length boots would not, if for the choice of material, look out of place on any of the fashion dolls found in toy stores across the country. True, they might have to call the range “Barbie Turns Tricks” and Barbie dolls do not usually come complete with dildos fitted front and back. They also did not were ball gags, or posture collars, but overall she could imagine a young girl playing with a scaled down version of the order that had been placed.

The third customer was something-different altogether. The doll was to be kited out in a bright red, rubber cat suit. It was to have dildos inserted in ass and pussy. It would be pieced with painful body jewellery and wear a tight corset, full face rubber hood, with integral penis gag, long blond hair, tied in a pony tail, make up that would look too much on an inflatable sex doll and bound in to an impossible hog tie. Julie had, by this stage, seen numerous dolls in bondage and she still found it amazing to consider that men actually thought that, without years of gymnastics training, a woman could be bent in to some of these ludicrous positions.

After twenty minutes of rummaging in boxes, rifling though hanging garments, or climbing up ladders, Julie had all of the clothes, shoes and bondage gear required for the order. These were placed in to another wire cage, which she trundled back to the production area. She placed the cage by the production line, before returning to the doll moulds.

By now, Julie reasoned, the plastic skin should have cured and so she set about freeing the dolls from their moulds. Thankfully, just as she was about to wrestle the first one from the mould, Ms Granger returned and helped her to remove the dolls, placing them on to flat, stainless steel trolleys. They then both set about the inert forms with craft knifes, cutting away the flashing that jutted out from the bodies, outlining where the two halves of the mould were secured, or where plastic had been injected in to the moulds.

After the dolls had shed their excess skin, the two women set about making up the dolls faces. This involved pouring paint in to an airbrush and spraying the faces with the tones indicated on the customer order. Darker hues were then sprayed on to pussies, anuses and nipples. Once this was done, the various plugs and pieces of card were removed and eye and lip make up was applied by brush. Finally, pairs of long, fake lashes were attached, before fingers and toes were prepared. Fake nails were then stuck on to the dolls and painted in accordance with the customer requirements.

The next part of the order called for one of the dolls to have various parts of its body pierced and Julie suppressed a wince as she set about the dummies intimate places with a large needle, while Ms Granger attached an assortment of jewellery.

Finally the dolls were ready to receive hair. One of the dolls was to have a wig fitted, which could wait until a little later, while the other two were to have hair implants. The two dolls that were to receive this complex addition were carried over to the necessary machine. Once the dolls were standing in the right place, domes were lowered over their heads. Both women then checked that the correct colour and length of hair was loaded, before setting the machines running. Ms Granger suggested that now would be a good time for a cup of coffee, since it would take the machines at least ten minutes to pin the groups of hair in to the dolls heads and so they both set off for the canteen.

Before joining her employer in the canteen, Julie nipped in to the bathroom, while Ms Granger went to get the coffees. The rest room, like the rest of the company, was modern and clean. She had worked for several companies who had only given a token nod towards the comfort of the employees. Thankfully, that was not the case here, Julie considered, as she entered a large, well appointed toilet that had sufficient cubicles to ensure that nobody had to cue. The bath room boasted clean, modern fixtures, in an expansively tiled and well laid out suite, that boasted shower facilities, working hair dryer and shaver sockets, soap dispensers and large mirrors; so that the overall effect was that the employee had wandered in to a hotel rather than the rest room of a production company.

After using these facilities and freshening up, Julie joined her employer in the equally well-appointed and modern canteen where, she noticed, that Ms Granger had brought two cups of coffee from the machine.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Julie enthused as she slid in to one of the plastic seats opposite her employer.

She had not realised how much she needed the drink, but the excesses of the night before were still very much in evidence and she gulped the first mouthful a bit quickly, causing her to cough as the beverage went down the wrong way. However, Julie soon regained her composure and before long the two women were chatting amiably. Initially, Ms Chambers, who now insisted on being called Lindsey, guided the conversation and Julie answered the companion’s questions about her degree, her career hopes and similar pleasantries. After finishing her coffee, Lindsey got up and brought two more. Upon returning, Julie decided it was time that she asked some questions of the other woman.

“So how did you get in to this business? I mean, it’s not the sort of thing most women would think of doing.”

Lindsey considered this for a few moments as both women sipped their coffee.

“It was my fathers company. It’s a family business. He gave me this factory to cut my business teeth on. He also publishes magazines and has a string of sex shops. When he retires, I will take over the running of those as well. Although the factory has changed since I started running it. Originally, we only produced inflatable sex dolls. Now, as you can see, we cater to a variety of tastes.”

“What about all of the clothes?” Julie enquired. “I mean, that must really cut in to your profits. They don’t look cheep.”

“They’re not,” the other woman replied, amused at the girls’ audacious questions. “Initially, my overheads were a little higher, but after our new dolls hit the market, I was able to buy out some of my suppliers. This gives me quite an edge during negotiations.”

Julie sipped her coffee and considered this.

“But these dolls are so real. They must cost a bomb to make. I can’t see the demand paying for all of this,” she reasoned, sweeping her hands around expansively, as if to encompass the entire factory in her sweep.

Although Julie lowered her hand, the room still swayed a little. She really had drunk too much last night. Not good moves when you have to get up for work the next morning.

“Oh the dolls pay their way. Anyway, there is also prostitution.”

Julie blinked at her companion.

“I’m sorry, what,” she began.

“Prostitution. The clothes come in handy for that sort of work. It sort of works like a brand image. We send our ladies out in only the finest clothes, which in real terms cost us very little. There is a great market for their services in certain fetish circles. Our customers are usually very happy. We do parties as well.”

Julie stared blearily at the woman opposite her.

“Parties?”

“Oh yes. Although you might say that they were really orgies. But a rose by any other name.”

Julie was actively staring now.

“And then there are the slaves. You would not believe how much money I can earn through slavery. I mean. The people who can afford to buy and keep a slave tend to be very discerning and very rich.”

“Slavery?” Julie tried to ask, but no words came out. She couldn’t speak; only stare in numb horror at the obscene monster opposite her.

“But I am sure you’ll be very happy in your knew post. I’m actually doing you a favour. After all, it would be a waste of your obvious talents allowing you to become a dusty old economist wouldn’t it?” Ms Chambers observed brightly as she stood up and removed the coffee cup from the frozen girl’s stiff, but unresisting, fingers.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up. You must be quite mucky after all of the lifting and carrying you have been doing this morning,” she continued cheerfully as she bent down and lifted the unresisting form out of the chair, slung her over her shoulder in a creditable fireman’s lift and carried the girl towards the bathroom.

Julie woke up from a troubled sleep amid total blackness. Had she been asleep? She couldn’t tell. Was she still asleep? Again she was not sure. But she thought she remembered a nightmare about being crushed by a large snake that made it impossible for her to move, or even breath. She thought that she had been jolted awake. An earth quake? Some other catastrophe then? She was not sure. But it was time that she got out of bed. What time was it? It must still be quite early since it was still dark.

God what a night, Julie thought. She would not drink ever again. Her mouth felt like the bottom of a birdcage and her limbs ached. She hoped she wasn’t going down with something. She needed a glass of water and, after several minutes got up. At least she tried to get up, but her limbs wouldn’t move. It was like they were glued to her sides, an unusual position to sleep in and why couldn’t she close her mouth? What was that in her mouth and why am I so hot?

All of these questions flowed through her brain within the space of two, or three seconds before memory flooded her consciousness like a tidal wave descending upon a sleepy, unsuspecting city.

Images flooded her brain and she wanted to scream, but the ball gag forced painfully in to her mouth prevented this. All that she could manage was a muffled “Ngh.”

She shuddered as she remembered being carried in to the bathroom and stripped. Ms Chambers had actually brought an electric razor with her, which she used to shave all of the hair off of Jules head. She also shaved her privates before coating her head and body in some sort of gunk. After fifteen minutes this was scraped off, taking all of her remaining body hair, including her eyebrows, with it and she was then placed in to a shower cubicle.

Julie winced as she remembered having a pipe forced up her ass and the feeling of cold water. She could have died of embarrassment when the woman removed the pipe and the contents of her bowels splashed all over the cubicle. Not satisfied with this, the procedure was repeated twice more, before she was showered.

If this was not bad enough, she was then carried in to the factory, forced to stand rigidly while Ms Chambers fitted her with rubber cups and plugs and endure being sprayed with plastic, which she remembered that bitch wasn’t plastic, but a form of artificial skin that, while still retaining a plastic look, allowed her skin to breath and then, and then. Jules wanted to scream and hit something, or more precisely, she wanted to hit Ms Lindsey Chambers, slut, porno queen and utter bitch. And as for the massive dildos that that woman had stuffed up her ass and pussy she would like to stick them…

She was brought out of her rage as the crate tipped back and she felt herself being carried. It eventually stopped and Julie struggled to hear what was being said as she recognised the sound of muffled voices. After a few moments of straining the voices stopped and Julie was left alone, with a growing sense of fear as she contemplated what this might mean and it’s implications for her future.

Jason Rothberg, self made millionaire, tycoon and closet fetishist stared at the crate that formed the centre stage of his basement playroom. It was large, perhaps seven feet in height and at least three wide and deep. He had been looking forward to this moment for ages and scanned his play room, which boasted a rack, a bondage wheel, a bondage bench and more manacles than you could find in Wormwood Scrubs. With great care, he lifted the crow bar from its place on the bench, from amid the whips, paddles and other devices and approached the front of the crate.

Forcing the bar in to the front panel, he pulled vigorously and was rewarded by the sound of distressed wood, wrenching nails and the front panel moving back at least an inch. Moving lower down, he again forced the crow bar in to the wood and wrenched the crow bar again. Finally, after several pulls, the front of the crate came away and fell with a satisfying crunch as he stepped clear.

Julie realised what was happening as soon as she saw the front of the crate shift. Even so, she was still blinded by the sudden brightness, after so long, as the front panel collapsed on the ground. She had a few minutes to take in the horror of her surroundings, which she could only describe as a dungeon, before her new; rubber clad owner stepped in to view. This was more frightening than anything she had expected was, especially since he was covered, from head to toe in bright shiny rubber. Her imagination spun out of control as her mind computed all of the possible implications of her surroundings and the man in front of her and, she was forced to admit none of them appeared particularly favourable.

Jason stepped eagerly forward to admire his prize. Inside the crate appeared to be another box. This one, however, boasted a clear Perspex screen for a front panel, with the bold logo “Julie” stencilled boldly along the middle in bright pink and blue lettering.

Jason turned his attention to his dolly and his heart almost missed a beat. She was tall and slender, with an impossible hour glass figure. She stood, he guessed, at nearly six and a half feet in her impossibly high heeled, knee length, pink rubber boots. Her entire body had been coated in semi gloss; flesh tone; rubber and she wore a bright blond wig that fell behind her in long, elegant, folds. She had been made up in bright pink and blue make up, with impossibly large fake eyelashes that made his dolly look irresistibly cute.

She also wore pink rubber stockings and a violet coloured rubber skating skirt. A violet coloured corset, attached to the stockings, did wonders for her figure, diminishing her waste to a minimal sixteen inches and giving her bust the look of huge opulence that he could have buried his face in for a week. The pink posture colour was very sweet and very sever looking. The wrist length, pink rubber gloves were also a nice touch.

The doll did not say anything, which was impossible since she wore a large red ball gag and didn’t move, since she was held firmly in place by thick rubber straps that secured her to the false wooden bottom, commonly used to secure toys in their packaging.

Unable to resist, Jason stepped forward to unwrap his dolly. He felt like a child who had been waiting his entire life for Christmas morning and now that the moment had arrived, it was definitely time to play with his new toy.

This story also appears in the Packaged Stories section.

20.04.04