The Inner Fullness Heist:

Intellectually, Carla knew the image wasn't a still. The woman was breathing, even trembling slightly as she sat naked on the bed, upright, her face a mask of intensity and focus. She tapped at the controls, freezing the live feed for a few seconds, then resuming it. The image barely jumped.

"So today's the day?" she asked.

Mel nodded. "I watched her get out of the restraints last night. She was quick with it, too. Since then, she's been like that -- just waiting."

"Poor dear," Carla said. "She must be so tired by now. Who's the buyer?"

"I thought we might keep this one in-house."

"Oh," Carla smiled. "You think she'll work with you?"

"I don't know," Mel said, zooming in on the woman's lap where her hands were resting. "Maybe."

The captive had positioned her hands very, very carefully to hide the looseness of her medical cuffs. To an experienced professional like Carla, it was obvious; her position was too posed, and you could see the shadow where the restraints hung loosely at her wrists. But a newer trainer might miss it entirely. The two watched the woman clench her fists until they were almost shaking, then slowly release them.

"Anyway, a mind like that would be wasted on another blowup doll," Mel continued.

"Well maybe," Carla said, "but on the other hand...." She panned up over the woman's soft belly and prodigious chest to a face that, even exhausted and stressed, was adorable. "I'm not convinced her mind is her most exceptional attribute."

"I guess," Mel said, doing a terrible job at feigning indifference to a body she'd been practically drooling over moments before. "It's not like you and Joey aren't bringing in, what, three more just as good this afternoon?"

Carla raised her eyebrow.

Clever, Mel.

The woman knew perfectly well that Carla would probably bring in twice that many, if not more. Now she was waiting nonchalantly for Carla to make her point for her.

Carla responded by gesturing towards the pet kneeling on a cart beside Carla, eyes closed in bliss as she absently fucked herself against an embedded dildo.

"Would you call her a loss?"

"Fifi?" Mel asked.

The pet looked up at her slowly with sharp hunger and dull interest, burying the dildo deep inside herself almost as if to hide it.

"Nah, Fifi's a good girl," Mel said, bending over and scratching her head, affectionately. "But how many Fifis do we need?"

Fifi looked up as Carla clicked her tongue. The pet immediately disengaged herself from the dildo with a little whimper, turning around to give it a peremptory cleaning with her tongue. Then padded over on all fours.

Carla extended her leg and tapped her shoe on the floor. She smiled as the pet blushed, nibbling her lip for the briefest moment of hesitation. Then she pressed against Carla's leg, lowering her sex submissively against her Mistress' Shoe. Carla looked down the empty adoration in her eyes for a moment. Fifi was one of her favorites, and a perfect baseline for how a slave should look at you.

When she turned back to the screen, the contrast was striking.

"Look at that expression," Carla said, as Fifi gently purred and rubbed against her. "She's thinking about killing you."

Mel licked her lips, openly leering again.

"That was meant to discourage you, Mel."

"I'm a big girl, Carla. Give me a chance."

Carla sighed, looking at her watch. "I'll drop in on her before I head out and see what I can do. If she's as smart as you think, I'll sign off on it."

Mel burst into a great big grin.

"Thanks, Carla! You're the best. Do you want some backup? If she's as dangerous as she seems-"

Carla waved her off, looking down at the pet quietly purring and rubbing against her. The creature was programmed to bring herself to the edge, then wait for a command to cum, but these days, she lost track sometimes, helplessly fucking herself to oblivion. Carla pulled her fool back sharply.

Fifi whimpered and looked up with big, beautiful, sad eyes.

"I think she just need a friend who can give her some perspective about how roles and responsibilities work here," Carla smiled.

"Oh... Damn," Mel said, gently pressing on Fifi's back with her boot. The forgetful pet got the message, and began licking Carla's shoe. "Power move."

"I'll get you what you want if I can, Mel," Carla said, briefly crouching in front of Fifi's mouth and making a quick adjustment. "You deserve beautiful tools to work with."

"Thanks C," Mel said, her tone almost a little shy.

Carla smiled as The petgirl panted beside her, tongue now hanging from her mouth, piercings glistening in the overhead light.

"Heel, Fifi."

* * * * *

Francine clenched her fists. They'd underestimated her -- she knew that much. For the last five days, she'd bowed and scraped, giving in to their sexual torments, even responding to the obscene name they'd given her as she quietly biding their time.

She let out a long breath, slowly releasing the tension. She'd seen a few of the other girls in passing. Some of them were bound in the most absolute, dehumanizing costumes she could imagine. Others were covered with tattoos or pincushioned with piercings, or had their lips and breasts expanded to almost cartoonish proportions.

Her treatment had been less extreme so far, and her bondage was comparably light. Her hands or arms had been restrained in some fashion almost continuously. Sometimes they'd keep her in bondage mittens. Other times, they'd attached her wrists or elbows to a body harness, or chained her wrists behind her back. Compared to some of the slave girls she'd seen, it had been quite mild.

So she'd played the meek submissive, waiting for them to make a mistake.

She wasn't sure if they'd gotten lazy last night, or her act had fooled them, but they'd left her almost completely unrestrained. She was currently locked to the wall by five feet of chain, attached to a heavy collar. Her only other bondage was a set of medical wrist cuffs with a generous length of chain between them. As soon as they'd left, she'd retrieved a pin she'd carefully hidden away on her first day, and got to work. Half an hour later, she was out of her restraints.

Of course, getting out of her restraints was one thing, but getting out of the room was quite another. Francine knew the halls were patrolled by large men, armed with cattle prods and tranquilizers, and her bare cell offered little in the way of improvised weapons. Even trying to pick the door lock might give her away, letting the guard know that she'd slipped the collar chain.

So she chose a different plan. She would wait where she was for her trainer, pretending to be submissive and restrained. Then, when the woman was distracted, she'd burst her bonds and force her captor to help her escape. It was a desperate plan, she knew, but it was better than simply waiting for her fate.

Francine had tied the chain to the D-ring on the back of her collar with a bit of thread she'd managed to work free of the bed sheet. It was just strong enough to hold the chain in place, but would snap the instant she lunged. She widened the cuffs and relocked them in place, then practiced slipping them on and off until she could remove them in moments. And then she waited.

The morning routine usually started with Francine's lights turning on. She'd be expected to wake up, do her ablutions using the little basin and toilet beside her cot, and kneel to wait for her trainer to arrive. But on this particular morning, something was different.

The lights came on as usual, and she cleaned up as best as she could, restrained. She even heard someone walk up to her door, pausing outside. Then, they retreated. She waited there in silence, for what felt like hours, quietly fighting to keep her nerve. Finally, the door opened.

Francine forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply, her whole body alert. She was supposed to keep her eyes downcast, but it wasn't hard to watch the trainer from the corner of her eye if she oriented her body just so.

She'd lucked out. The woman who entered was much less physically intimidating than her usual trainer, Mel. She was even shorter than Francine, with shaggy, brown hair, and a mild look in her eyes.

Francine knew better than to judge the sadists who worked here by their looks, but she'd still rather take her chance against this woman than Mel, or any of the men. Strangely, the woman wasn't dressed in uniform or a fetish outfit, but a simple dress, with a bag slung over one shoulder. Even the cattle prod in her hand didn't seem particularly threatening with the casual way she held it.

The woman paused and observed her, and Francine struggled to slow her racing heart. Her captors had taught her several positions to display herself, and often made her perform them before breakfast. She could probably kneel in Position 1 without giving away her loose bonds. Anything else, and she'd be found out immediately.

And then Francine noticed another visitor moving into the room, her crawling heralded by the creak of rubber clothing. The slave was covered in transparent latex, her body undulating sensuously as she slinked in behind her mistress.

The trainer stopped on the other side of the room, across from the door and several feet beyond the reach of Francine's chain, the rubber slave kneeling by her side. Francine fought the instinct to tense and prepare to lunge. The trainer was looking right at her, and would have plenty of time to react and probably immobilize her before she could overpower her captor.

"Hello, Francine," the trainer said.

Francine looked up, genuinely surprised to hear her real name for once, instead of the humiliating one they'd given her.

"Hello, Miss," Francine said, quietly.

The woman smiled.

"My name is Miss Carla. Mel asked me to stop in and check on you. How are you?"

"I'm...." Francine was at a loss for words. "I'm fine, Miss," she choked out, her voice cracking.

"That's good to hear," Carla said. "You seemed stressed a moment ago. You can look me in the eyes for now, if you want to."

"Thank you, Miss," Francine said, trying to keep her expression neutral as she raised her gaze to her captor's eyes.

She swallowed, and looked back down.

"Mel says you're a very intelligent girl. Have you learned all of your slave positions yet?"

Francine felt her leg tremble, and her eyes flicked anxiously to Miss Carla to see if she'd noticed. But the woman simply watched, a faint smile on her lips.

"The ones Mel has taught me, Miss," she said, huskily. "But, I can't do all of them chained up."

Carla smiled reassuringly, her eyes showing a hint of something calculating, appraising.

"Well, perhaps you can show me later. For now, I wanted to introduce you to Fifi. Fifi, this is Francine. Display, Fifi."

The strange slave looked up at Francine, clasping her hands behind her neck and pulling her elbows back to lift her breasts. Her face was strikingly beautiful, even with her rather extreme modifications. She had high cheekbones, plump lips and wide eyes with dark, thick lashes, and thin, black eyebrows -- the only hair remaining on her body. An unnaturally long tongue hung out of her mouth, adorned with multiple jeweled piercings that caught the light.

A small chime dangled from her nose ring, jingling prettily when she moved. Her eyes were heavily made up with purple shadow, arcing out to a vibrant blue and shiny silver at the tips. Her lips were painted a wine red, and her cheekbones were sharply defined. The makeup must have been permanent, for she was wearing a tight, clear latex mask with holes for her eyes, nose, and mouth, yet the exposed lines stayed crisp where they extended under the mask.

Francine gasped as Fifi tilted her head up with a strange little yip -- the first sound she'd made. From this angle, she could see a piercing extending through Fifi's lower lip, holding her tongue out of her mouth.

Her breasts were massive -- particularly on her thin frame -- and her nipples had been dramatically elongated and painted a livid red. They poked out out from the suit, decorated by nipple shields, each held in place by a horizontal piercing.

"How do you do, Fifi?" Francine said, huskily.

The strange slave gave a canine grin, and made a sound deep in her throat that might have been a greeting. Then she delicately lowered herself back onto her hands, shuddering as her nipples brushed the ground.

She slowly crawled towards Francine, until she was kneeling right in front of the woman.

For the first moment, Francine noticed that the woman was completely free of restraints. What Francine had taken for a collar was actually a tattoo, with Fifi's name written in a stylized script. Other patterns circled her wrists and ankles, like traces of external bonds she no longer wore.

This close, the details of Fifi's decoration were more disturbing. Her nose piercing had a grommet through it, and other grommets were through her ears, holding heavy chimes, which tinkled as she moved. The glare of the lights obscured some of the details through the shiny latex suit, but Francine could make out the word "Plaything," written across Fifi's clavicle, wound through with a pattern of vines and flowers that flowed across her body, draping down her breasts and winding around her sides.

Carla clicked her tongue, and Fifi turned around. Her decor was far less subtle from behind. Her nether lips were tattooed the same red as her nipples, and dangled with a dozen tiny bells that chimed as she moved. Across her ass were written the words "Fifi the Fuck Pet," and she had two paws tattooed on her lower back, where a man might put his hands to take her from behind.

"Notice anything you and Fifi have in common?" Carla asked.

Something about the tone of Carla's voice made Francine's heart race. "She's a... we're both slaves, Miss."

Carla clicked her tongue and Fifi slowly rose up on her hands and knees, and began to turn back towards Francine.

"When Fifi came here, she was very well-behaved, just like you. She never fought back or refused an order. Her handler was inexperienced, and took her for a natural submissive. He let his guard down, thinking she was already tame."

Carla scowled.

"Please stop fidgeting, Francine. I can't stand a fidgety slave, You may stroke Fifi if you like. She makes a wonderful purr when you scratch her head. Otherwise, sit still."

She made a little kissing sound, and Fifi sat on her heels, looking up at Francine, her hands in a begging position.

Francine looked anxiously between the pet and her mistress, struggling not to let the loosened cuff rotate as she reached a shaky hand towards Fifi.

"Sorry, Miss. What happened next?"

Carla smiled.

"Fifi attacked a guard and tried to escape. She didn't do too badly either -- no one has gotten as close before or since. She made it as far as the loading dock before she was subdued. For such a small thing, she was quite vicious -- the guard still walks with a limp."

Fifi made a pleasurable rumbling in her throat and pressed against Francine's hand. She seemed to quiver in pleasure as the chain rubbed against her neck between Francine's hands.

"It was a shame, really," Carla said. "Fifi was a smart girl, and she had a position where she could use her intellect, at least a little. She would have been a concubine for a wealthy and kind owner.

"But we had to be very harsh once Fifi injured her trainer -- to make sure she couldn't be a threat to anyone again. Now she's just a simple pet, capable of licking, sucking, crawling... and a few other tricks."

Carla made a kissing sound, and Fifi came to life, crawling back to her trainer and heeling at her side. The trainer reached down and scratched the slave's head affectionately. Fifi whimpered in pleasure.

"We don't even need to restrain her anymore. I could leave her unsupervised in front of an open doorway, and she wouldn't even look at it. So I suppose she found a sort of freedom in the end. It suits her, don't you think?"

Carla opened her hand for the slave to nuzzle and looked expectantly at Francine. The woman trembled, struggling to meet her gaze.

"She's... very striking, Miss," Francine said, her voice barely a whisper. "But why are you telling... introducing us, Miss?"

Carla smiled, the faintest hint of malice showing through her calm demeanor.

"We still get girls like Fifi from time to time, Francine. Very capable girls who bide their time and wait for an opening. Some of them we break ruthlessly. Others we give a choice. It depends on what the buyer wants, mostly.

"But if a girl attacks or deceives a captor and makes an escape attempt, it's out of our hands. She's too willful for captivity. So we need to limit her capabilities, like we did to little Fifi, here," Carla finished, punctuating the comment with a round of scritches that seemed to transport the little pet.

Francine jumped at the sound of Carla clicking the prod in the air. Fifi continued to purr.

"I see," said Francine.

"So I have a question for you, and I'm only going to ask it once," Carla said. "What else do Fifi and you have in common right now?"

Francine squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, a tear leaking out of the corner of her left eye.

"We're both... out of our bonds, Miss."

"Show me," Carla said.

Francine swallowed and slipped her wrists out of her cuffs. Then, she pulled the chain from her collar, snapping the thin string attached to it.

Carla pointed at the ground, and Francine silently lowered herself face down, sparing a last look at Fifi. The slave gave her a hungry look, although whether it was related to Francine's predicament or the way her Mistress continued to fondle her, Francine couldn't tell.

"You know that tampering with your restraints is a serious infraction, don't you Babydoll?" Carla asked.

"Yes, Miss," Francine said, letting out a breath. She hated the humiliating name, but hearing it was almost a relief now. The tension and the subterfuge were over.

"And do you intend to try it again, Babydoll?"

"No, Miss," the slave whispered, putting her wrists behind her back, unprompted.

"Good girl," she said, coolly glancing at her watch. "Mel will be by to discipline you soon. Would you like to spend more time with Fifi first?"

Francine raised her eyes with a look of panic. "Miss? I promise, I won't try again, please don't-"

She fell silent as Carla cracked the prod.

"Quiet, slave," she said severely, holding for several moments of silence. "Position #1, please."

Francine scampered to her knees, resting her hands, palms up on her thighs. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a twinkle in Miss Carla's eye.

She's enjoying this.

"I meant as a social visit, Babydoll. Would you like me to leave Fifi in here for company."

"Oh... I think so, Miss."

"Excellent," Carla said. She knelt down beside Fifi and fiddled with the slave's mouth. Francine heard a little sigh, as the woman pulled her tongue inside her mouth and closed her plump lips.

She lowered her lips to the pet's ear, whispering for a moment, before standing again.

"I expect you to enjoy her tongue. If she does a poor job, you will discipline her. If she performs well, you may reward her like this." Carla said.

She stomped the floor, and angled her toes up. Babydoll watched, as the pet lowered herself over Carla's foot. Her skin was flushed, and her eyes glazed with a look of abject hunger with subtlest tint of shame.

"Any questions?"

"I... have to have her... eat my pussy, and... and do that with my foot, Miss?"

Carla responded with a smile that made Babydoll's blood turn cold.

"It's your choice. By all means, refuse my suggestion, Babydoll. If you can't handle a mindless little pet like Fifi, perhaps you're better suited to be one."