The Dominant Submissive

By DX

Copyrighted, 12/2025, all rights reserved.

 Claire stepped back from her front door with a look of trepidation and excitement.  She carefully eyed her work as she hyper-scrutinized the details of the moulding, the contours, the paint, to ensure all the joint work was flush, seamless, and invisible.

 She twirled the screwdriver in her hand like gunslinger, then stuffed it into her tool belt with a satisfied air.  “Three thousand, nine hundred and twelve time’s the charm.”  She whispered excitedly as she pulled off her belt and retrieved her backpack from the couch.

 The backpack was gleaming polished patent leather with shiny silver buckles.  It was perfectly rectangle when viewed from the back, but contoured along her spine.  It had padded shoulder straps and waist belt so she could easily wear it for hours on end.

 She put it on, and buckled it up.  It sat neatly at the bottom of her neck line, in-between her shoulder blades, and ended at the top of her butt.  She left the straps a little slack.

 As she slowly, tentatively, approached the door, she pulled her arms back and snaked her hands into a hole in the lower sides of the backpack, through and through, until she could touch her opposing elbows.

 She paused and looked down at a non-existent line on the floor, then stepped over it.

 Nothing happened.

 Her face flashed with askance as she ran through her checklist, then winced as she remembered.  She pulled her arms free of the backpack and ran into her bedroom and grabbed her gag.

 It was a large, red ball with a spider’s web of gleaming straps.  Stretching her jaw as wide as she could, she held the gag up to her mouth.

 It was too big.

 Claire paused, took a breath, and pushed.  She felt her jaw muscles stretch as she pushed a little more, and then a little more.

 The ball sank into her mouth with a soft pop.  Although the ball’s size kept her from just spitting it out, she pulled on the straps anyway; around her head, over her head, under her chin, and over her nose, making a lattice work of shinning leather across her face.

 She ran her fingers over the straps, then across her stretched, full lips.  She told herself she was checking for proper fit, but in truth she liked the feel of her head in its own bondage.

 She looked back to the door.

 Nodding to herself, she pushed her arms through the holes in her pack, took a breath, and approached the door.

 There was a faint beep, and she felt the micro-servomotors in the buckles of her pack swivel to lock, and the straps and belt retracted tightly.  Air bladders lining the hole inside the backpack filled and gently, but firmly gripped her forearms.  All around her head, the straps of her gag snugged up, and pulled the massive ball that much deeper into her mouth.

 Claire struggled against her restraints, but nothing budged in the slightest.

 With her breath light in her lungs, she took a small step forward.  

 As if by magic, the front door unlocked, and silently swung open.

 She peered into the hallway landing of her apartment.  On the floor before her was a one yard square, highlighted in yellow and black stripes.  Although she was bound and gagged, she was unescorted, and subject to heavy penalties if she stepped beyond that little island of safety.

 Claire was a registered Submissive.

 By law, a Submissive needed to be bound and gagged in public, and be in the company of her Dom or designated chaperone.

 Instead, she stepped back.  In response, the door closed and locked.  She took another step back and her gag lessened and her backpack unlocked.  She repeated the process several times, adjusting the hidden door mechanics down to the slightest degree until it worked perfectly.  She then did it many more times just for fun.

 Elated, she did it again.  She tried to sneak up on it, or with only one arm inserted into the backpack, and each time the door functioned as it should.  It would not let her out of her apartment unless she was properly bound and gagged.  Once outside, she could not be unlocked until she returned home.

 As per the law.

 “Tomorrow,”  She said to herself.  “all that changes.”

 Exhausted, she made herself a light supper, then went on the Net to finalize her appointment, and submitted her final paperwork.  Lastly, she sent a gentle reminder to her Escort.  

 Within seconds he confirmed the appointment reminder.

 Everything was done.  She only had to sit and catastrophize.  What if something failed?  What if they said no?  What if he rejected her? 

 She dispersed the swirling shadows with a shake of her head.  “No need to fear a black eye before the fight’s even started.”  She whispered with a determined sigh as she set the alarm on her cage and crawled in.  She then set a second alarm on her data-watch for no real reason other than if the impossible happened and her cage alarm failed, she had a backup.  She then pulled the cage door shut with a hard, sharp clang to make sure it locked, before she settled down for a good, night’s rest.

 She didn’t sleep a wink.

 She watched her room fill with dawn, no longer pretending to sleep, and waited for the cage to unlock.  When it did, Claire dragged herself out and performed her morning ablutions.  Drying off from the shower, she paused and looked at herself in the mirror.  She was curvy, with lovely legs and callipygous hips.  She had melonous and inviting breasts, properly housed in an indestructible titanium bra which accentuated her long swan neck.  She had soft, full lips, and a slightly puggish nose.  

 Her eyes were pools of melted chocolate, large and expressive.

 Most of the time, they were how she talked.

 Finally, forlornly, she looked down to her womanly charm.

 It was locked.

 It was a brutal thing, hard and cold, and designed to not only protect her from the World’s Sin, but keep her in a state of constant sexual arousal; to encourage blood flow and good health.  Although it was inescapable, she had spent many, many hours, and earned many, many demerits trying to defeat it.  Now as she looked at it, she suppressed the want to try again.  She currently had zero demerits, and wanted to keep it that way. 

 Still, she was monstrously horny.

 Although she didn’t want too, she checked her data-watch for the third time that morning and confirmed what she already knew.  With her estimated accrual of merits, she would be eligible to apply for a forty-five minute unlock in eight months, twelve days, and four hours.  Out of those precious minutes, ten would be spent in a mandatory self health check up.  The remaining thirty-five minutes was her’s to use as she saw fit; although sex or self stimulation was discouraged as a waste of caloric energy.  She could, if she wished, spend her merits on something more productive and just as pleasant as sex, like a ticket upgrade at the local museum.

 Claire had no intention of going to a local museum in eight months, twelve days and four hours.

 What she would likely do was lock herself in her cage and try out one of her handcrafted sex toys for thirty-five minutes.

 She felt a low rumble through her body as she envisioned rolling around the small space of her cage screaming like a banshee, but that was eight months, twelve days, three hours and fifty-nine minutes away.

 As long as she didn’t earn any demerits.

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Copyrighted, 12/2025, all rights reserved.
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A Premature Inheritance

By DX

Copyrighted 1/2001, 1/2025, all rights reserved.

 Her black gloved hands sparkled with expensive and gaudy rings as she shook the doctor's hand. "It was a most beautiful ceremony. Howard would have loved it." Her eyes smiled flirtatiously from beneath her black veil. "Had I not known better, I would have sworn he was dead."

 The doctor nodded to the compliment. "Everything to your liking, Angela?"

 Angela smiled. "Worth every penny. A minor investment with huge payoffs. The reading of the will is tomorrow." She laughed breathlessly. "That's when they officially turn over everything to the weeping widow.”  Her eyes flashed.  “And I will be weeping.”

 "I'm just glad we can be of service. Would you like to see the final results?"

 "Is he here?" Angela looked amazed.

 The doctor nodded. "Right this way." He motioned her to the bookcase. He pressed a hidden stud and it silently slipped aside and exposed the entrance to the lab. 

 The room was cluttered with medical equipment and machines whispering secrets to one another.  Monitors flickered mindlessly, and filled the room with eerie light.  In the center of the room, strapped to a vertical slab, was a woman. 

 The doctor presented her like a game show host. "Here's Howard!"

 Angela's eyes were wide with surprise as she lifted her widow's veil to get a better look at the image of perfect beauty. Large, ozone blue eyes nested in long black lashes peered straight ahead, longingly, lovingly. Her doll like face and near non-existent nose were smooth and sculpted. Her full, oh so kissable lips of dark blood glistened in the sterile light. Her delicate swan neck poured like cream into her expansive, oversized breasts which were perched atop a tiny breath wide waist that, if it was not for the heavy boned corset, she would have simply folded in half. Her callipygous hips were balanced on her long, long legs that disappeared into tiny, tiny feet.

 Angela suddenly realized her mouth was open in aghast and closed it. She could not believe this was her pudgy, balding husband. She felt positively ugly, and patted under her chin with the black of her bejeweled fingers. "Schedule me for a chin tuck, would you?"

 The doctor’s face flickered with confusion then he smiled. "You are perfect the way you are." The doctor then regarded Howard. "And besides, it’s not plastic surgery. Don't get me wrong, there is major reconstructive surgery involved. Since you said it was our discretion of the disposal of Howard, we decided on our most popular sex toy model."

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The Perfect Job

By DX

Copyrighted, 2003, 1/2025, all rights reserved.  Story or art may not be used without permission.

Sandy stared at the massive lock and hasp crudely bolted on the door to her flat, and the eviction notice taped where everyone in the building could read it. They couldn't do this to her! It wasn't fair! Miss a few months of rent and they lock you out?

She leaned against the wall, and as her defiant will ebbed from her, she slid slowly to the floor. It was Mum and Dad's fault, clearly. They had unceremoniously cut her off. Funds for grades, they said. Stop the parties, hit the books, do well in school and we'll send money.

Sandy frowned as her defiant will filled again. Screw them! She decided. She wasn't going to perform when they waved money at her and that was that. She'll get a job, that'll show them!

She checked the hall, then crawled over to her neighbor's flat and snagged the newspaper lying on the door step. Retreating back to her side, she quickly opened up to the classifieds. Her brilliant idea slowly dimmed as employers all looked for either experience or education. She frowned. Where was a 21 year old almost college grad to get that? 

She skipped over any job description that had the words, 'energetic', or 'go getter'. That sounded like too much work.

Tucked away somewhere near the bottom was the dream job:

For immediate hire:

Live in caretaker for her Lady's hounds. No experience necessary. Love for dogs a plus. Full Medical, benefits, travel and competitive salary. Apply in person.

Sandy loved dogs! Actually, she liked dogs. She mostly tolerated dogs when she didn’t hate them outright, which was rare, but how hard could it be to chase the buggers off the couch and take them for walkies twice… once a day? 

Sandy ripped the ad out and piled the disheveled paper back on her neighbor's doorstep and headed out.

The long cab ride dropped her off at the front gate of the mansion. Having no money, she offered to pay the driver with a hand job. The cabbie scoffed and told her it would be a blow or he'd call the cops. Reluctantly, she leaned into the front seat and laid her head over his crouch. He grabbed her small neck with his heavy ham hock hand and shoved her down, fucking her face. Sandy did everything in her power to make him come before he choked her to death, then thought she would die when she felt his spunk hit the back of her throat. 

She couldn't even spit it up! 

When he was done, he laughed and held out his card and told her to call him if she needed a ride back. She leapt out of the car to get away, desperately trying not to vomit all over him. 

As the driver sped off, she gacked at the base of a tree for several minutes, forcing herself to vomit before heading off down the long, curving driveway to the mansion far off in the distance. 

At the towering front doors, Sandy spent several minutes looking for the door bell. Finding it, she pressed it once and listened to it chime.

When the door finally opened, Sandy was hit with a rich smell that she couldn't place, like the smell when she changed her bicycle tire. She smiled at the tall woman standing at the door, but had to back up a few steps to see past her volumous breasts that protruded from the woman's frame like a cliff. Her small and obviously corseted waist only accentuated her stunning look. Her dress ran from her stiff stock collar, tightly across her bosom to her nipped waist, spanning across her shapely hips, and dropped like a guillotine to a millimeter above the floor. Her handsome face frowned as she looked down.

Sandy felt positively tiny. "Um, hi? I'm here for the job?" She held up the crumpled and torn newspaper ad. "Dog Trainer?" 

Sandy had wore her cut off shirt that did little to hide her small but shapely breasts, showed off her defined midriff complete with pierced belly button, and her tight blue jean hot pants that accented her cute butt and her muscular gymnast legs that were capped in winter white bobby socks and tinsy, tiny tennis shoes.  While not job interview attire, she had figured that no stuffy butler could resist her large innocent eyes, impish pug nose and permanent pouty lips. 

Sandy hadn't figured on being interviewed by a woman, and a well endowed woman at that.

The woman smiled tenderly. "My name is Madeleine. Won't you please come in?"

Sandy followed her, amazed that a woman with such a stiff uniform could move with grace. "I'm currently in college for animal psychology." Sandy exaggerated.  She was currently studying Liberal Arts with a focus on philosophy. "I've worked as a veterinary assistant, uh, in another state.”  She added, despite never working a day in her life.

Madeleine continued to glide along. "The job will require you to be on site 24 hours a day. Lady Eleanor wishes her hounds to have access to you freely."

Sandy thought that was a bit extreme. "Ooooh Kay." She said peering at her sneakers. Something was squeaking as they walked along. "That's fine I guess. I'm on leave from school and between residences right now." Sandy pulled a piece of paper from her back pocket and unfolded it. "Uh, here's my resume, I didn't have time to type it and stuff."

Madeleine took the note book paper without looking at it. "I'm sure it will be fine." She said as they entered a sitting room. There was a woman sitting at a small table, typing away at a lap top. She had startling blue plastic hair and exotic makeup that highlighted her obviously beautiful features. She wore a royal blue business suit made entirely of latex. Madeleine handed her the resume. 

"Diane, this is Sandy's resume, she is applying for the hound companion position." Madeleine placed the paper in Diane's hand. 

Sandy watched Diane's careful movements, her face's unchanging pleasant expression.  She watched the way her eyes held a constant thousand yard stare and realized she was blind. 

Diane took the resume and placed it in a scanner and as the OCR processed the page, Diane donned head phones and listened to the resume from the optical reader.

Sandy looked up as something flashed across the hall. For a moment, Sandy could have sworn the maid who was dressed in nothing but a bustier and a little cap tiptoed across the hall. "Uh, does everyone have to wear, uh, such unique uniforms?"

"Her ladyship is a fashion designer. She works in many mediums." Madeline explained. "You're not allergic to latex, are you?"

Sandy had never heard of such a thing. She thought about all the times she had sex. She always insisted on condoms and never had a problem with it. "I don't think so. I'm not going to have to wear a suit or a corset, will I?"

Madeline scoffed. "Heavens no! You'll be working with dogs. A business suit or corset would be inappropriate." Madeline continued her lead. "You're not living with your parents then?" She asked, changing the subject.

Sandy was looking around for what was squeaking. "No, they're uh, out of state. I'm on my own."

Madeleine raised her eyebrows. "Excellent. When can you move in?"

Sandy was amazed! Job hunting was easy! "I've got everything with me right now. Salary? Vacation?"

"Your salary will be placed in escrow for you for one year with interest. Minus room and board of course. As for vacation, Lady Eleanor takes her hounds with her and you'll be going along. Very exotic places." Sandy followed Madeline into the kitchen. "You'll be eligible for promotion to the stables in a year. Do you like horses?"

"Do I?" Sandy imaged riding bareback across the manicured lawns, the wind in her short, curly blonde hair. It was worth a year putting up with dogs for that. How hard could that be? "I'm your girl!" She watched her feet as she walked, trying to figure out where the squeaking was coming from.

"There is one small test." Madeline said leading the way.

Dread filled Sandy but it vanished when she looked up at another maid. She was bald, her cap seemingly glued to the top of her head and dressed in only a royal blue corset and matching neck brace. Most surprising was the unnatural shine to her skin. The maid turned as they approached and Sandy gasped. The maids face was covered with a blue rubber mask. Her pretty eyes could be see through the large goggles. 

Sandy realized she was completely sealed in Latex.

The maid turned, balanced elegantly on her ballet shoed feet and disappeared into the pantry. Sandy watched her go. "Her Ladyship does a lot of work in rubber."

"Its all the fashion rave nowadays." Madeline said simply as she opened the back door. "Saturn! Jupiter!" She called.

Sandy, hid behind Madeline as she watched two Doberman-Rottweiler mixed dogs.  They moved like barracudas, straight and fast, and flashed across the lawn.

"Go on." Madeline encouraged. "We have to see how they take to you."

Sandy tried to hide the shake in her knees as she stepped forward, watching the two dogs charging at her. Their short, gleaming black fur glistened from their lean, rippling muscle bound bodies. They were almost a blur as they ran effortlessly. Their eyes, hard flecks of mica were fixed on Sandy. Their faces were sharp as they ran with smooth grace, as if they could run forever.

Sandy clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering as she flushed the thought of being torn to shreds out of her mind. 

Madeline was there, what could go wrong?

Sandy patted her thighs. “Come on boys, come on!" She tried not to be afraid, dogs could smell fear.

Grim and unabashed, they leapt at Sandy. 

Sandy closed her eyes wincing, and waited for the first bite.

Their front paws were on her shoulders. They stood taller than her and their cold noses sniffed her golden spun hair intently, tickling her. "Ah! Okay, down boys." Sandy laughed as the two bounced around her excitedly, their tails wagging so hard their bodies shook. Even on all fours they were almost as tall as she. "Good boys! Good boys!" Sandy petted them both. Suddenly they lunged for her crotch, sniffing excitedly, each once trying to bat the other out of the way for a better sniff. "Hey, get outta there!" Sandy said as they almost lifted her off her feet.

"Saturn! Jupiter!" Madeline ordered and the dogs instantly complied, sitting stock still and looking up at the woman expectantly. "Go play." She said with a slight nod of her head and the two dogs turned and ran out into the yard.

Madeline turned back inside. "Excellent, they've taken a liking to you." Madeline slowly made her way down a flight a stairs. "You may start immediately."

Sandy shrugged as she followed. "Well, I have a natural thing with animals." She said. "So, just show me where the leash and popper scooper is."

"They get plenty of exercise running the ground and the gardener handles the scooping." Madeline explained as they reached the bottom. 

The bottom of the stairs opened to a large, concrete room, sterile and harsh. Large metal dog bowls, one labeled 'Jupiter', the other 'Saturn' and a large dog bed were out on the floor along with rubber chew bones and squeak toys. The maid that Sandy had seen upstairs had her back to them and was working with something at the table. She turned as they approached holding a metal bowl in her hands, the name 'Sandy' was stenciled on it.

Sandy smiled dryly. "Cute." She looked up at Madeline. "Well, then, just show me where the stuff is to clean the kennels." She said, trying to hide her pain at the thought of cleaning.

"Oh, no!" Madeline said. "Lucy here cleans the kennels."

"Oh," Sandy said. "Well, the, uh, hounds are obviously well trained so, what exactly is my job?"

"Hmm? Oh, just entertain them. Play with them. Keep them happy."

Sandy couldn't believe it was that easy. "That's it? Just give them a bone?"

Madeline thought. "More like they give you a bone."

Sandy's face flashed confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Here, I'll show you." Madeline smiled brightly. Suddenly Sandy was seized from behind and her arms pinned tightly.  Before she could react, she was hoisted in the air. Sandy kicked and struggled, but Lucy held her firmly in a bear hug. Madeline snatched a handful of Sandy's bushy hair and as the girl tried to scream, stuffed a fat, rubbery hollow tube gag against her teeth.  Madeline pushed, forcing her jaw wider, and stretching it until Sandy thought something would break until it slipped in. It was little relief as the pain of her jaw being stretched beyond its limits quickly went from throbbing to flaring. 

Madeline wasn't done as she wriggled and wretched the thing to get the flanges behind her lips and cheeks and in front of her gums. Once it was settled, Sandy could move her tongue but she couldn't even think about closing her mouth, let alone spitting out the gag. She could only drool uncontrollably.

And scream.

With confused, panicked eyes, she screamed.

They ignored her.

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Perfect Date

By DX

Copyrighted 01/01, 08/2024 all rights reserved, story and artwork may not be reproduced electronically or otherwise without written consent. 

 You need arm candy! No corp exec can go anywhere without a trophy spouse hanging off his arm. You move, you shake and you don't have time to pay the high costs of a mistress or sycophant. 

 Wrongco hears your cry and presents... The Perfect Date! 

 Got a big convention to go to? Board meeting? Perhaps you’re in the closet and don't dare come out least it cost you your job! Weekend at the CEO's estate? Don't even think of going alone, let Wrongco create the Perfect Date for you who won't even bat an eye if you go home with someone else! 

 We use only the highest quality candidates made to order. In this promotional, we will walk step by step through the Perfect Date creation.

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Copyright 01/2001, 8/2024, all rights reserved
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