Life As A Bitch

There were certain things in life that seemed to have a strange effect on those who were aware of their existence and importance, but at the same time not actually required to come into contact with them on a daily basis and the New York subway system was without doubt one of them. It had only been a few days since Ellie had read an article on the subject written by a journalist from back home, stopping over in the city before hopping onto a plane back across the Atlantic. The woman had somehow managed to stumble upon a fairy tale version of the subway that she described as a place where the highest and lowest of New York society rubbed shoulders because of a shared need to travel from one side of the city to the other. For her it had been a fascinating place which put on show the strata of different folk who lived on the same island and would never otherwise have come into contact with one another.

Ellie liked to think that the woman would have had a more cynical view of the place if she had to ride the subway twice daily and endure the unique torture that it was capable of throwing up on a regular basis.

She had often wondered if there was a particular breed of mental degenerate that actually lived on the subway full time, slowly evolving into a unique subspecies of humanity that never left the tunnels and gave up on the light of day. But perhaps it was more believable that such people were in fact in the pay of the authorities responsible for the subway, hired as a secret army of repulsive specimens with the sole purpose of making sure that no one wanted to hang around longer than they had to and so see the decay that was evident beneath the streets and lodge an irritating complaint.

Ellie could almost handle the ranters and the ravers.

The fumblers and flashers were worse, but there was always the chance of escape at the next station.

But it was the silent and the sinister that really made her flesh crawl.

Those individuals with whom she was hard pressed to define the quality that marked them as unnerving rather than simply odd in an innocent manner. They seldom said or did anything that could have been singled out as definitive proof of their status as a weirdo, but they were always there, giving her that uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched for some reason she was sure she did not want to discover.

That night in particular was no exception, the eyes of the man in question darting away in an attempt to disguise his interest for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had sat a little way down the carriage from her seat. The man made no attempt to hide behind a crumpled newspaper or glance at a mobile, instead he divided his attention between staring at her when she was not looking and the blank window of the carriage when she was.

He was nothing exceptional to look at, but then they seldom stood out from the crowd on account of having two heads. There was also the fact that although he was wearing a sorry looking overcoat, so many people did that it was by no means the uniform of the entrenched pervert that it had once been.

Had she been just a little less tired and weary from the exertions of the day and on her way home to something more welcoming than an apartment that her unemployed housemate kept as clean as a forgotten dumpster, she would not have been in the slightest bit bothered by the furtive stares that she was receiving. In fact there was a small part of Ellie's more rebellious mind that was flattered by the fact that she was considered worth the effort to which the weirdo was going. No matter how bad things might have seemed at any given time, at least she could rest assured that she had not fallen so far as to be beneath the consideration of the common subway lunatic.

As it was, she felt irritable and rather less than charitable towards his kind right there and then, bolstered in her resolve by the fact that she was only minutes from her stop and the thought of the fresh canister of mace sitting nestled between her purse and compact, just waiting to grace the features of the lowlife who pushed her that little bit too far.

Ellie was up and out of her seat as soon as the train came to a halt, pressing through the crowd as she made it to the platform amongst the usual sea of humanity. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that her weirdo had decided to disembark as well, following as best he could in her wake. Not that the sight worried her in the slightest, there being far too many people on the platform to make the prospect of reaching her hard enough let alone the reaction that a sudden scream from a sturdy young woman with a head of flaming red hair would elicit from those surrounding them.

As she was swept along with the rush, Ellie indulged her curiosity with another look back, just to see where her erstwhile shadow had made it to. At first she could not pick him out, but then the turning and bobbing of heads brought him into view. Despite the press of the crowd he was now closer than he had been before, no more than a few feet away although the distance might as well have been miles for all the good it would do him.

This was not the first time she had been followed by a strange man in New York and judged against the normal standards, this was a below average character when it came to the signs that made her afraid on the streets. Ellie tried to ignore the thought of him behind her and instead plunged onwards towards the stairs that would lead her up and onto the street and so one step closer to home.

It was on the first landing that she felt the sudden sensation of something piercing her skin.

There was no time to turn her head and so little pain from the jab that she hardly reacted at all before her thoughts began to taper away and she lost track of which direction she was supposed to be going.

Ellie's legs gave out beneath her as she tried to speak, numb lips able to do nothing more than produce a string of sounds that might have been mistaken as easily for nonsense as for words. The faces of her fellow commuters swam and ran into one another as the sound of their voices became nothing more than a confusing wall of noise. She was only aware of the fact that she was falling in the most distant of ways, the descent from her own feet seeming to stretch into a period of time that could have been infinite for all she knew.

But the ground never came up to meet her, hands gripping her beneath the arms and arresting her fall as they fought to pull her back to a vertical position though her legs were as limp as boiled spaghetti, refusing to take her weight for even a second.

"Damn," there were voices speaking over her, "is she okay, man?"

"It looks worse than it is," some were almost close enough to feel the breath that carried them, "she gets these all the time."

"You need me to call someone," she could hear the words, though the meaning escaped her, "a doctor or something?"

"No," did this voice belong to the person holding her? "She has injections for the condition...Look, she was trying to jab herself with this one just before she swooned."

"Well," something inside Ellie felt panicked as the more distant voice seemed to move away even further, "if you say she's fine, then I guess that's that."

"Don't worry," Ellie felt herself being braced against someone's body, "she'd be mortified to know she passed out in front of all these people. She'll be fine as soon as I get her home and put her to bed."

The next thing she could be sure of was the harsh light of a side tunnel shining down on her as a face looked over her. She recognised the face of the stranger from the train, his grey eyes studying her intently while his thin face remained neutral.

A moment later the face was gone, replaced by a confused procession of light and dark, punctuated by glimpses of familiar sights that should have made sense, but were rendered into a chaotic kaleidoscope of images moving too quickly for her mind to make sense of.

It was all too much for her to take and for that moment at least, her senses succumbed to the confusion and she lost all conception of the world around her.

It would not have been accurate to say that Ellie awoke, but more honest to describe the nauseating process by which she became aware of her surroundings as a gradual regaining of equilibrium and balance. Little by little the bombarding of her senses became less intense and she was able to claw back some small part of the ability to make sense of the information that they were taking in.

Not that there was anything dramatic to behold once she was able to do so, as she found herself staring up at a grey ceiling of bare concrete. She could make out strip lighting that accounted for the light in the room, but no matter how she tried, she was unable to move her eyes to take in more of the uninspiring view.

Her sense of panic began to grow as she tried and failed next to move her head, followed by neck, arms and legs. No matter the effort she expended, no muscle in her body would as much as twitch at her command.

Ellie fought to control herself, to stop her mind from being filled with the darkest thoughts possible. There had to be something more than a featureless view of concrete and the inability to move, those two things could not be the entirety of her world.

As she tried to think rationally, she became aware of the chill that was seeping into her from below, numbing her and almost distracting her from the all too immediate horror of her situation. It was bad enough that her limbs remained motionless, but now the feeling was slowly being drained from them as the cold sank into her flesh.

That was it, she thought in a moment of relief, there would have been no sensing the cold had she been truly paralysed. Whatever was keeping her from moving had not dulled her ability to be aware of and feel her limbs. And if there was an outside force keeping her from moving, then there was also the hope that it could be overcome.

But as soon as her hopes were raised of regaining the ability to move, the reality of what had happened to her dawned upon Ellie. She recalled the stranger pursuing her through the crowd, the sudden sensation of being pierced with a sharp object and the distant conversation that followed in a new light. The man who had caught her as she fell claiming to be a friend, explaining it all as a medical condition and even having a syringe at hand to prove his claims. It was all becoming clear to her as she lay there, unable to move. The man must have injected her with something that was responsible for her state of helplessness, passing the needle he had used off as medication that she had been supposedly trying to administer herself only moments before.

Ellie reasoned that from there the man must have carried her away from the crowded subway station and brought her here, wherever here was.

But the question that really scared her was why.

There was only one door to the room and it opened to admit the figure of a man who was heard before seen thanks to the form-fitting suit of latex that covered him from head to toe. The rubber was black and concealed the features of his face beneath a hood pierced only by holes for his eyes and the barest of slits to accommodate his breathing. These were barely adequate as he entered the room with his blood pumping and his excitement piqued, so that his breath sounded in ragged gasps, only serving to add to his disturbing appearance.

He was glad to be clad in the suit once more, feeling that it was more like a real skin to him than the one it covered. When forced to be outside of the space he called his home and deprived of his true skin he was vulnerable and ordinary, but now that he was back in his own environment there was nothing for him to fear.

Indeed, now he was the one to be feared.

Within these walls he was exceptional, a man to be obeyed and regarded as the master of all he surveyed. It was a title that he had grown fond of and one that he aspired to, something he wanted very much to be in the eyes of others.

And now he had the perfect opportunity to do just that.

He smiled beneath his mask as he laid eyes upon the form of the woman sprawled on the bare metal table in the centre of the room. There was no sense of urgency in his movements as he knew very well the effect the cocktail of drugs he had injected into her right buttock would have upon her and how long she would remain as limp as a ragdoll. The knowledge that she could see and hear him perfectly as he stood over her was almost as thrilling to him as the thought of what he intended to do with her while she was helpless.

"I suppose you think you're pretty clever," Ellie recognised the voice from the subway station despite the anonymous features of the mask, the harsh edge of a Brooklyn accent shaping the words. "You must think you're smarter than the average guy on the street to have been able to pull the wool over their eyes for so long."

For a second, Ellie was forced to wonder if the effect of the drugs that had fogged her mind had receded as far as she thought. She heard every word the masked man said to her, but there was no way she could turn them that made any sense.

What was he talking about?

The very real possibility that she was in the clutches of an even bigger lunatic than she had at first suspected loomed in her mind, but she pushed it aside to listen once more as the man was speaking again.

"I know you can't answer me," he shook his head. "But that's just the point, you shouldn't be able to speak up for yourself at all, now should you? You might be clever and full of tricks like that, but you don't fool me. I'm not like a regular Joe, I got bitten when I was really young, bitten so badly that I just can't be fooled by your kind anymore."

The man was getting more animated as he spoke, prodding and poking Ellie in the chest at the same time.

"You wear the clothes well and you learned to walk on your hind legs," he started to yank her coat off, pulling it from her arms and then out from beneath her. "But I know that under it all you're just a regular dog that got smart and I'm going to have to teach you to be obedient like any other canine with ideas above its station."

He thinks I'm a dog, Ellie was almost unable to mentally digest his words, he actually thinks that I'm a dog passing myself off as a human being. That was enough to convince her that the man was truly insane, filling her with trepidation as to just what he was planning to do with her now that she was within his power and helpless.

"We can start by learning the right way to refer to one another," by this time he had cast her coat away and was busy unzipping her boots. "All those fake cards and IDs in your purse had 'Ellie' all over them. I suppose that's not your real name, but I suppose it's not all that presumptuous for a dog in the grand scheme of things. So that's what I'll call you."

He tossed her boots over his shoulder and returned to the end of the table upon which her head lay, eyes fixed on the tight top she wore, revealed now her coat had been removed. Black in colour and made of a material that was opaque, the garment resembled the tights that covered her legs. Her breasts could be seen clearly beneath it, their notable size contained by a suitably sturdy bra. Unlike the rest of her rather conservative clothes, the sheer top was a small act of rebellion by which Ellie attempted to make a point of the pride she took in her larger figure, but now it seemed lost in the helpless nature of her situation.

"You'd be calling me master," the man spoke as he pulled the top up and over her head, "if you were allowed to speak, of course. You won't be, but that's the title that you should use when thinking about me. It'll be better for you the sooner you get used to the idea of just obeying your master and doing as you're told. But I expect you'll need to be disciplined along the way, like most dogs do."

The Master, Ellie could not help but attach the title to him now that he had mentioned it, was intent upon his task now and working faster. He unclipped her bra, allowing her breasts to fall on either side of her chest as she began to feel the cold of the metal more fully on her newly naked back. Her denim skirt was the next to go, leaving her wearing only tights and panties and they lasted no more than a few short seconds.

Now that she was naked, the chill in the air was as painfully apparent to her as that of the table beneath her. Ellie's breath shuddered slightly and she was sure that but for the effects of the drugs she would have been shivering with the cold. How the Master seemed to ignore the temperature in the room she could not begin to guess.

Suddenly she felt an even more acute sensation of cold between her legs, as though something wet and freezing had gripped her most intimate parts. She caught the briefest glimpse of a safety razor and then the caress of its edge as the Master shaved the hair from her groin, leaving it smooth and bald. He made to attempt to speak as he went, attending instead to his task in the same manner one might have groomed an animal with no thought for the object of his attentions whatsoever.

Once she was shaved and clean, the Master produced a pair of rubber shorts that he pulled over her feet and up her legs. They were a tight fit by the time they reached her groin, squeezing her flesh mercilessly, but he did not stop until they were in place. From there he probed her with the index and middle fingers of his right hand, guiding into her vagina and then anus the sheaths and tubing that would allow her to function in every important manner without removing the shorts.

Ellie felt the urge to twitch and protest as his fingers ventured inside her, but there was no way that she could resist or even show her displeasure. Once they had been removed she was left with a feeling that was unlike anything she had experienced before, a sense of having been simply taken and used with no thought for her own status as a human being. She would not have equated that feeling to rape, but in light of the manner in which the Master had been referring to her as a dog and lambasting her pretensions of humanity, she was almost sure that the experience would not be unique while she was in his power and the thought only added to her sense of dread.

In the time that she had been trying to digest his casual probing of her body, the Master had left the side of the table and returned with a far larger garment that while made of the same rubber, was visibly of a size to cover most of her body. She could see that the majority of the surface was white in colour, with smaller patches of brown in a random pattern that put her in mind more than anything else of the fur of an animal despite the smooth texture of the latex from which it was made.

He wasted no time in dressing her with the new garment, legs first so that her feet emerged from the bottom of the suit and their length was soon covered by a layer of rubber so tight that she began to lose the feeling that the drugs had left to her. The Master did not stop to ponder what he was doing, instead he pressed on until the suit reached her waist and then stretched it over her stomach as well. Ellie was not a thin woman, so the curving shape of her body was soon reflected in the way the thing stretched and clung to her thighs and belly.

Her heavy breasts required individual attention, as each was lifted with a hand and fitted into the sheaths on the front of the suit designed to accommodate them. Once they were slipped inside, they filled the space so completely that might have been shaped of rubber rather than simply coated by it. Even her nipples were recreated in the latex, now hard and erect in the cold of the room so that they stood out clearly.