Anne was tightly encased in a blow up outfit that took the shape of an arm chair when inflated. Her mouth was held open at the front of the seat, where John had sat. It had been overkill, to be left helpless, like a humble piece of furniture. Anne had no option but to faithfully obey orders from the influence of the implant in her head, so there was no need to hold her captive. Encased in clear plastic, unable to move, she was physically, as well as psychologically, powerless.
He had abandoned her there in the lounge, like a piece of furniture, an object owned, to attend to his wife as part of the usual daily routine. Leaving his sperm to trickle over the plastic seat, dribbling into her mouth, she had to swallow or choke. Her mouth was held open so there was little she could do, as the sticky fluid dripped onto her tongue, where it slowly ran to the back of her throat.
If he had dismissed her, to the guest room, she could have taken the opportunity to deactivate the implant. Instead, he came back to free her physically.
"Come on lets get that thing off you. It's an interesting concept, I might try it out again," John told her.
She certainly hoped not! It was bad enough having to obey his every whim. Being made into a piece of household furniture made it all the more humiliating.
"I'll help you into this, it's very tight," he said. John was surprised she didn't complain after being freed from the chair. He was trying to push her beyond her limits of endurance, yet she seemed to take it all in her stride. He could see his sperm glistening on her chin, knowing it had run into her mouth, yet she accepted that too. He was especially pleased with how much cum she had inspired him to produce.
He squirted talcum powder into the leather cat-suit, as he pulled it up her legs. It had been his wife's, some years ago, and it was a tight fit on Anne. Having pulled it up over the hips, he realised it wasn't going to fit over the large breasts. Unzipping the openings might work, so he pulled hard, lifting her up onto her toes.
The thin leather worked its way up between her cheeks, for a very pleasing view of a firm rear, though he still hadn't managed to pull it up over her shoulders.
"Crouch a bit, hunch your shoulders," he told her.
He managed to tug the suit over one shoulder then the other. He went to stand before her.
She was hunched forward, with her breasts lewdly protruding out the unzipped openings. They looked enormous. "Stand up straight, slowly," he advised.
The black, all in one cat-suit gave a little, and stretched, pulling taut between her lips. When she took a step it was obviously difficult. It was so thin the tight leather clung to her body, like a second skin.
As she walked around the room it stretched enabling her to move less awkwardly. John couldn't keep his eyes off the leather hugging her pussy, showing it off more rudely than if she were naked. It pursed her lips, exaggerating their openness, as though she were a wanton hussy.
"You are a wanton hussy," he murmured. From the way she had behaved that didn't begin to describe what she was. Whatever he put her through, she accepted, without demurring in the slightest. "You're not a normal woman, you're a sex doll, a mindless sex doll," he declared, with a pleasant chuckle.
Anne groaned silently. Was this worse than being a slut? She was about to find out, unless he summoned up some other role, from the rich repertoire of unpleasant programs available. In Larry's apartment, a long list of awful sounding sex games had been displayed on his computer, which she hadn't dared contemplate.
He gave her an apron to protect the suit while she prepared a meal. She stood by him while he ate, not speaking, behaving like a mindless doll as ordered. He couldn't help running a fingernail over her sex, as the lips were so distended, on show. It gripped her sex so tight it looked as though it had been pulled up from inside her gaping holes.
The more he played with her, the more her sex seemed to explode from the black purse, cupping her lips. Both cheeks were held firmly with the leather disappearing between them. It was cunningly fashioned to grip tight, pushing right up her ass when she stood tall. In a moment of inspiration he had her slip on a pair of high heels.
Forced to stand upright, with shoulders squared, they pulled the leather even tighter around her crotch. Her breasts were pushed out in an exaggerated presentation, begging to be pinched and caressed at every opportunity; which he made sure was often.
"You can prepare some food for my buddies, its card night," he announced.
Left in the kitchen she tried quickly to complete the order, though it wasn't easy in the tight outfit. Once finished preparing snacks the command would be too, so she could go to her room and deactivate the implant. The need to be free of his games was vital.
Anne froze. She heard someone entering the lounge. The voices were joined by another as she continued to lay out chicken pieces form the oven. He had lived for sometime as a bachelor on frozen and tinned food.
Inside she smiled thinking he would dismiss her pretty soon, and she could sneak upstairs, for he wouldn't want her to be seen like this. The gossip would race through this small community like wild fire. Anne was startled when John walked in though as a doll she showed no emotion. At last she was to be dismissed to her room where she could switch off the implant. Patiently she watched him rummage around in a kitchen draw.
"A nice spread, you've done well," he told her. He noted again the change in her behaviour and worked out it was from telling her she was a doll. She stood mute effectively accomplishing this latest act, even to the point of holding her face in a passive expression. It was unnerving and therefore no way would he introduce her to his friends.
"You can stop playing a doll right now," he said. The expression of relief was evident. Her whole body relaxed and she took a deep breath ready to say something.
At last she was nearly free! The game had been terminated, so she was ready to scamper back to her room, switch off the implant, change her clothes, and run for the safety of home, while he was busy with his friends.
"You can be a maid for the evening, and serve my friends," he ordered.
"As you wish sir," she answered, with a curtsy. Anne was struck with dread. The hope of escape had lasted only seconds before it was snatched away. How could he exhibit her dressed like this? Parading around with her breasts out on show, and the lewd way her sex was clearly outlined in the thin leather, tightly pursing her lips, it would be outrageous.
She could only stand the exhibitionist humiliation by letting go completely to the implanted program, running around to its rules, behaving like his sexy little maid. Not that she had much control left, so whatever he asked, she would jump to obey.
"Leave the apron on," he added. The full length, white cotton apron, covered her breasts and thighs, leaving her bottom tightly encased and on show. "Come on, I'll help you carry this stuff out," he said, with a playful slap to her bottom.
Anne giggled from the slap, playing faithfully to the role, rather than chastise him for being familiar. It served to remind her how thin the material was and how vulnerable she was.
The room went stonily quiet when she walked in and the strangers stared at her. She purposely looked away from them with the shame of this terrible display of her body. This as well covered compared to when Ben had her yet with these older men it felt more shameful.
"Our lovely maid will be serving us tonight, say hello to the guys Anne," he said.
