Chapter Nine: The Family Doctor
===============================

:Author: Gospodin

.. meta::
   :shs-title: The Enslavement of Marie
   :shs-author: Gospodin
   :shs-part: 9
   :shs-keywords: f, latex, mc, bd


Marie drifted back to the stone courtyard again, this time looking up at
the medieval rooftops of the surrounding buildings and the sky above.
She lay on her back, ankles bound to wrists in a tight frog-tie. Lifting
her head up, she saw the nobles and courtesans grinning down at her from
just past her knees.

A jester turned cartwheels over her bound body, each leap threatening to
land on a tensed thigh or a pierced breast. He quickly leaned into
Marie's face and laughed. A domino mask covered his eyes and nose,
hiding his face with a macabre pinnocchio.

He twisted into a backflip, and suddenly knelt between Marie's knees.
Marie looked down at him and saw him lick his painted lips hungrily.
Slowly, he leaned in toward Marie's womanhood and began to poke his
mask's elongated nose into her.

Marie moaned as darkness blotted out the sky. Twisting her head this way
and that, she realized that two platform high-heel boots were standing
on either side of her head. Following them up the shapely female legs,
she realized that she was looking up the latex skirt of the ruler from
the sedan chair.

Marie stared into the mass of rubber, leather, and steel above her, and
realized that the woman was squatting down toward her. As all light
dimmed, Marie saw the most painful looking studded steel strap-on dildo
pointed directly down at her mouth.

She woke suddenly in pitch blackness. Was she blindfolded? No, no she
had swapped her baby blue curtains for heavy black ones. Why had she
done that?  They were a memento of her childhood. Streetlamps. They
glared in the window at night. The heavy black velvet would block out
the sun.

No, that's not right. The sun shone in the other morning, visible around
the cracks. It must still be nighttime.

Marie blinked as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, squinting at
a strange triangle painted on the ceiling. Three red beams glowed above
her, the upper one less than a foot long, and the other two pointing
like an arrow toward her feet. They seemed to move, to be alive in some
way.

Marie stretched in her bonds, and noticed that the gentle tension of the
cuffs on her body seemed much less stressful than the night before. She
twisted her shoulders to work out a mild kink in her neck, and noticed
the beams twisting in a similar fashion.

Curiosity brought Marie to her full senses, and she realized with some
confusion that she must be looking at her own reflection. There had been
no mirror on the ceiling when she went to sleep, had there? There
certainly wasn't one there the other night, as she had counted cracks in
the ceiling to keep time during the early hours of her punishment.

Marie twisted in her bonds as much as possible, and verified that the
beams were coming from the jewels in her piercings. The red beams played
an edgy, mathematically regular pattern on her naked skin. She admired
the look, imagining herself suspended naked in the path of a laser show
at some warehouse rave.

As she watched the lights, she began to get the impression that they
reacted to her feelings and thoughs, pulsing and shifting. The collar,
too, seemed to be alive in some strange way. Marie kept wondering if the
ominous five letters along the front of her throat were glowing red as
well, but every time she looked directly at it the effect would seem to
vanish.

Marie felt aroused and excited in a gentle sort of way; but with her
hands cuffed above her head and her legs tethered to the corners of the
bed, she could do nothing to take advantage of it. The gentle pulsing
and throbbing lulled her back into a deep sleep.

Marie woke a few hours later to the now familiar click-click-click-click
of her cuffs. She stretched eagerly and massaged her wrists and ankles
as she sat up on the bare rubber bedsheet. She examined the cuffs once
more, and tried to determine if they released on a timer or if some
external event had opened them. Unable to understand even the beginnings
of how they worked, she again unbuckled the web of straps from her gag's
head-harness.

By now she figured there had to have been enough saliva to dissolve the
glue.  Marie pushed hard with her tongue and pulled on the dangling
leather as hard as she could. After a little jostling, the gag finally
moved with a sharp, stinging pain. Looking down at the gag in her lap,
she saw scraps of skin still glued to the base of the rubber cock-bit.

Marie immediately tasted the iron tanginess of her blood, remembering
her childhood habit of licking her wounds to enjoy the wicked flavor.
She grinned at the thought that she was a vampire in a previous life (or
un-death, at least). She often thought of dressing up as the fetishy
underground comic-book vampire Sandra Bodyshell and giving out deep
kisses to people at the Castro street party.

Halloween! Marie verified that the costume was still in the drawer,
tempted to try it on early. Angies words about enslavement and
punishment echoed through her mind, but now, in the sunshine of the
spring morning, they seemed lighter than they had the day before. She
disregarded them as the pulsing rings distracted her again, and closed
the costume drawer.

First things first, Marie thought to herself, how do I get rid of these
silly ornaments? A sharp, stinging pain stunned her as it snapped
through her sensitive flesh. Sweat beaded on her brow, and she bit her
sore lip gently.  Marie panted as she massaged her nipples, feeling the
heavy metal rings through the skin.

The charm of the previous night's light show had worn off. Marie felt a
familiar helpless panic surge through her belly as she twisted the rings
through her flesh, looking for some sort of clasp or seam. She moaned as
her thoughts raced, trying to think of who had done this vicious thing
to her mind and body. Pulling at the rings resulted in nothing than more
pain--a punishing pain that had none of the arousing properties that
Marie tended to experience.

In her mind, she flipped through all the people she knew in San
Francisco, trying to come up with someone who could help. Faces and
names came and went as she held her head in her hands. She stopped short
and stood straight as one in particular stayed clear in her mind's eye:
Dr. Rosenstock.

Rosenstock had been her family doctor ever since she arrived from
Europe, and saw her a few times when she travelled to visit her aunt as
a child. Marie realised that she could come up with no cover story that
would explain how the piercings came to be. Still, she knew that he
would keep their session in confidence, as he had her other embarassing
moments.

Marie recalled the violent orgasm that took her by complete surprise at
the age of thirteen. Dr. Rosenstock had placed her in his old leather
and steel gynecological examination chair. For a brief moment, the
vision of heavy leather straps buckled about her arms, legs, stomach and
chest consumed her.  She was so rocked by convulsions that the Doctor
feared she was having a fit, but realized what had happened when he
noticed her swollen pubis.

Ever since that day, his bedside manner improved a hundredfold. He
opened up and warmed to marie, helping her feel good about her body and
her growth as a woman. He was friendly and sympathetic, whatever her
adolescent problems may have been. He was the only person in the world
who could possibly have a hint as to her submissive fantasies.

At that thought, Marie scowled. No, in the past week more than a few
people have been given clues. Old man Scold the locksmith obviously knew
a thing or two, and perhaps Miss Applebee had really been on that train.
Perhaps her boss knew... make that ex-boss. And now, of course, her
beloved Angie knew things that even Marie had yet to uncover.

Marie glumly picked out the most modest outfit she could find for her
trip to the clinic. She laid out a set of white latex underwear, a light
blue latex skirt that reached only halfway down her thigh, clear latex
stockings, and a sleeveless tank top of white latex with the highest
mock-turtleneck she could find. As she dressed, she found with only mild
surprise that the shape of the nipple rings showed all too clearly
through the two thin layers of rubber, and the neckline of the top ended
just below her gleaming silver slave collar. To make matters worse, her
nipples poked out from behind the white film looking for all the world
like large buttons asking to be pressed.

Marie sat at the vanity, ignoring the more dramatic substances and
devices that filled the makeup chest and grabbing some basic foundation
and color. She worked as best she could to cover the impressions made by
two days strapped into a trainer gag harness, using shadow and color to
distract where she couldn't hide. She realized as she looked at herself
in the mirror that she wasn't looking forward to another train ride
dressed like a slutty bitch from the Reeperbahn.

The streetcar was largely empty so late in the morning, but that just
meant that the passengers were free to sit back and admire her. Marie
looked sheepishly up at the security cameras flashing their little red
lights once a second, and thought of the pulsing lights that adorned her
body. When she finally stepped off at her stop, she felt all eyes on her
as she tripped in her strappy heeled sandals, clutching the hem of her
rubber skirt as she stumbled to the sidewalk.

Since Rosenstock was a family friend, no appointment was necessary. He
had to be over 70 by now and had only a few patients left. His
secretary, about his age, saw Marie through. Marie could have sworn she
saw her jaw clench, but the assistant waved her on without comment.

Marie fidgeted nervously in the old red armchair, musing that it must
have stood in that very spot since the days when California was a
Spanish colony.  Her rubber clothing squeaked against the red leather as
she traced a finger over the surface of the cushions, wondering if they
hadn't become deeper since she was last here. She pushed her middle
finger through the deepest one as she had when her finger was about half
as long, and suddenly had the feeling that she was being watched.

"Hi ho, hi ho, Maria! In trouble again?" Marie looked up suddenly at Dr.
Rosenstock, blushing a beet red at the sound of the greeting. She
quickly recognized the phrase as the one that Secret Agent U69 uses when
he finds Sweet Gwendoline bound. Her face flushed redder as she thought
of the predicament she had found herself in, and wondered if Rosenstock
knew what U69 would do when he found her.

"Oh, h-hello doctor Rosenstock!" Marie blurted out, catching a look at
her red face in the mirror by the sink and realizing in horror that the
flesh-tone foundation she had painted over the gag strap marks was
staying pale while the rest of her face deepened in tone around it. "I,
er, I have a bit of a complicated problem lately, and I need your help
and advice..."

Even with his open and understanding personality, it was hard to know
how to begin a story of how three pieces of intimate jewelry had been
attached to her body without knowing how. Marie couldn't tell if he
believed a single word, but he remained his old sympathetic self. She
noticed that he was like the old red chair: The wrinkles a bit deeper,
the atmosphere a bit more dusty and mysterious. It was nearly natural to
peel off the clingy rubber clothing in front of him.

"Would you like to recline into my old examination chair, darling?"
Marie blushed again and nodded. The fantasy of nearly 20 years ago
returned, but today she kept her control.

The doctor let his index finger wander over the letters of her collar,
mumbling, "Hmm, there is something inscribed here..." Marie continued to
flush red, struggling to keep the feeling from spreading to her
erogenous zones as Rosenstock inspected the nipple rings, the clit ring,
her lips... But he didn't speak another word for the duration of the
exam.

"You may get dressed again, Maria!" As she in the old red chair again,
he passed Marie a little bottle of ointment. "This is for your lips.
They will heal within a few days, my dear, and the mixture of herbal
oils will make them smooth and slippery like a baby's. You may enjoy the
taste, but please dont use it more than twice a day. There is a small
risk of addiction." He paused. "As for the rest of your your
transformation, I am afraid there is nothing I can do. You are on a road
you chose yourself. And it is your choice if you want to continue or
turn back."

"My choice?" Marie stared at the doctor in disbelief. "I came here
expecting answers! I am completely in the dark about what is happening
to me, and I never asked for any of it to happen! How can you say that
it was my choice?"

Rosenstock sighed and a worn smile spread across his creased face.
"Maria, I have known you for the better part of your life. And I knew
things about your aunt and her true self and her longings that I will
take with me into my grave.  If there is one thing you can trust me to
know, it is the tragectory of your two lives. So hear my words and think
on them carefully: You have been wandering aimlessly for many years now.
And now you might find yourself not too far away from a discovering your
true destination. You have wandered the desert for too long, and now in
the distance you see the shape of a faraway mountain top, covered with
cool snow. That vision shows you the dryness of the plain and the thirst
in your throat in a way you can no longer ignore.

"You are grown up, Maria. Make up your mind!"

Marie kept silent while the doctor ushered her to the door.

"I have a good bye present for you!" He wrapped her in his old deep
brown leather jacket, covering her glossy white second skin. He gently
kissed her forehead and waved good bye.

"Keep it, Maria, and keep what you find in the pockets! I hope they help
you make your choice." He called after her. Already half a block away,
Marie heard the heavy oak door swing shut.

Marie clunt the old coat about her tightly, easily three sizes too wide,
and felt strangely grateful--and confused. The old doctor had not told
her even a fraction of what he knew. She licked her lips and felt
happier. A bit horny, even.

Waiting at the streetcar stop, Marie tried to dig her hands into the
pockets only to find them sewn shut. Puzzled, she felt through the
leather and discovered the outlines of three round boxes in the left and
a lengthy, banana shaped item in the right one. Clutching the bottle of
ointment in her fist, she tried to imagine what the two round boxes
could be.

As she sat down on the red plastic bench, she shook the sleeves down
over her hands and hugged her nervous stomach tightly. She quickly found
the gentle rocking of the train hypnotic, and drifted into fantasy and
reverie again.

She felt the long sleeves strapped together in the small of her back.
She had been trussed up in a leather strait jacket plus matching leg
binder, strapped to a signpost in the middle of a familiar stone
courtyard. Looking at the reflection in a nearby window, she can read
the sign: "FOR SALE OR RENT" with a large red arrow pointing down at
her. She sees that her head is wrapped in cage made of steel bars that
is welded to the signpost. The exact fit of the head cage implies that
it was custom made just for her.

Marie woke quickly as the train's brakes engaged suddenly. She realized
that her crotch was wet, causing the ring in her clitoral hood to
sliding around in the slickened rubber panties. She leapt up and
stumbled out of the streetcar, nearly missing her stop.

Marie staggered through her front door and laboriously undid the buckles
and straps on her high-heled sandals. She padded into the bathroom
without removing her rubber outfit to turn the taps on the large
porcelain tub. She got inside and waited until the water level reached
her breasts before peeling off the latex.

The gems in her piercings glittered brightly beneath the foamy water,
and marie felt herself glow in the luxurious bath. She reached down and
brought herself pleasure, remembering the last time she had masturbated
in the tub, still wearing the black panties and bra. After several
much-needed orgasms, enhanced by the metal rings at her nipples and
clit, as well as the larger one surrounding her throat, Marie finally
dried herself off and headed to her bedroom.

The cuffs lay there invitingly, and Marie surrendered her freedom to
them for the third time.

"Like in the fairy tales," Marie mused, "the third time makes the change
permanent." and she thought of another transformation.

"Tomorrow i am going to become a cat."

----

`Next Chapter <marie10.html>`__


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