Maid to Serve Ch. 02

An antique desk stood off to one corner of the study and the fireplace was filled with a pile of blazing logs that spat and moved as the fire consumed them. A voluminous chair stood to the other side of the fireplace across from the desk and a collection of aged rugs and carpets covered the floor beneath its legs while the rest of the room made do with well polished floorboards that spoke of some age and history in their own right.

Spread out in front of the fire in the space that one might have expected to see a rug made from the hide of a magnificent animal, was a rectangular object made of what looked like plastic the colour of pewter. It was roughly the size of a mattress and seemed to be connected to a small device of some kind by means of a sturdy hose. Eleanor had no idea what the thing could be, but she was sure that there was a very good chance she was going to be enlightened on just that point in the near future.

"Well hello there," Eleanor realised that she had been so distracted by the prospect of what awaited her in the study that she had failed to notice the person sitting in the chair by the fire. In her defence, the high sides of the chair had almost hidden them from view and they had made no effort to speak until that moment.

She managed to perform something that was a hasty mixture of a nod and a little curtsey, but she was far too busy taking in the man who was now studying her with some interest to make much effort to appear demure and respectful as she had been instructed.

The voice certainly fitted the dress, the former being educated and unmistakably from the better parts of Dublin and the latter consisting mainly of tailored tweeds. If it had not been for the fact that the man was wearing a latex outfit similar to Eleanor's own, but black in colour beneath it all he would have passed very well for an old fashioned member of the rural gentry. As it was the odd combination simply fitted into the rest of the strange nature of the surroundings in which she had found herself.

"I have the pleasure of being the Squire of this estate," he looked her up and down as he spoke, "and you have the pleasure of being the newest addition to my little collection of staff." The Squire smiled as he spoke, but she was sure that the look in his eye meant the expression was more to do with his appraisal of her than any attempt to be pleasant.

"So," he almost launched himself out of the chair and began to walk around Eleanor in order to see her from every angle, "big girl are we? There's noting wrong with that, nothing at all. Haven't had a big one for a while now, seems that they've somewhat gone out of fashion in the big wide world. I suppose the trend is for all those delicate little things that look good on the catwalk and all that. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with a thin girl either, but you can do some things with each that you really can't with the other. At least that's what I find anyway."

Eleanor tried to keep herself still and stare straight ahead as she was scrutinised and studied like a specimen under a microscope. She almost jumped in surprise when the Squire lifted her skirt and gave her backside a sharp slap with the palm of his hand before reaching around to weigh her breasts in his hands like a portion of fruit.

"Not too firm and not too floppy," he exclaimed, "I think the whole thing is probably up to muster."

Eleanor kept her face neutral and simply endured the experience of being sized up like a head of livestock; she was already filling her mind with wild flights of fantasy about the awful things that this man was probably only moments from doing to her. His casual approach to listing his observations about her appearance and the manner in which he simply placed his hands on her as though she had no right to object had cut her deeper than she had though they would. Used to hiding her own feelings from the world at large, she had come to think of herself as hardened and unmoved by such things. The reality was that now she had been stripped of any and all the talismans that she had been able to cling to back in the real world. Every comfort and consolation that had softened the blows that reality landed upon her was no longer available and instead she was left alone with only her own thoughts as protection. So far she had to admit that they had been almost no help whatsoever.

"First thing to do is get you out of those clothes," the Squire seemed to be oblivious to her building fears as he walked over to the desk and began fumbling around in one of the drawers. "I've had this thing lying around for a few days now and finally have someone to try it out with," he gestured absently to the rectangle of plastic before the fire without looking up. "It's all lubed up and ready to go, so if you'd be good enough to strip then we can be getting on with it."

He let out a cry of triumph a moment later and produced a device from the drawer that looked to Eleanor like the kind of thing that a mechanic might use to buff dents out of the bodywork of a car. She had no idea what the contraption might be, but she had enough imagination to conclude that it was intended to be an integral part of whatever the Squire had in mind for her when he plugged it into the mains and the bulb on one end began to vibrate furiously, making a noise like an angry swarm of bees.

The Squire returned to the front of the desk and leaned against the edge, the device in his hand as he watched Eleanor, waiting for her to begin undressing herself.

Eleanor began with the ballet boots, moving slowly more due to her trepidation than any attempt to make the process longer than necessary to tease her audience. She was hampered also by the unfamiliar sensation of manipulating objects through the thick latex that covered her hands, making her fumble with the laces and lose her grip numerous times. Not that her faltering progress seemed to bother the Squire, who simply watched from his vantage point as her efforts forced the already tight garments that she wore to pull even closer to her body and her heavy breasts to almost spill out of her costume.

She stripped off her gloves and then peeled the stockings from her legs before adding her apron to the neat pile of shed clothes at her side. She added the headdress and wig to the pile with the same care, folding what she could as though she would be marked on her attention to detail. As she pulled off her blouse and skirt, leaving only the black and white knickers behind, the Squire chucked to himself in amusement at her neatness and the sight of her pink latex body.

Before she could remove the last item of clothing, he motioned for her to stop and reached down to grab the edge of the plastic rectangle. He pulled it back to reveal the fact that the thing opened like a giant sleeping bag, the inside lined with a clear gel that covered every inch. Eleanor might have been an innocent as far as the world in which the Squire and his household dwelled, but she knew lubricant when she saw it and the reality dawned on her that she was about to be coming into very close contact with the stuff.

"Few things before we pop you inside," the Squire gave her a serious look. "That's a vacbed, as in vacuum. I stick you in there and then we seal you in and use that to pump the air out." He pointed at the device linked to the vacbed by the hose. "You really don't have a choice in the matter, but it'd be more pleasant for all concerned if you were alive when you came out. So you'll be using this to breathe," he pointed to a tube inside the vacbed that ended in a mouthpiece. "Put these plugs up your nose and this blindfold over your eyes as well; you won't need them in there anyway."

Eleanor nodded slowly and proceeded to push the plugs up her nostrils before covering her eyes with the blindfold, which was of course made of latex, over her eyes. She felt the tug as the Squire gripped her lead and guided her down onto the vacbed with a slow but firm hand. More than once she almost slipped and fell on the lubricant, saving herself by some unknown means and then inching her body lower and lower until she was laid upon her back in the middle of the bed.

There was no more than a few seconds between the mouthpiece being strapped into place and the ominous sound of the top layer of the bed being pulled over her prone form. Eleanor had no way of telling when the thing had been sealed and she fought off a rising panic as she waited for the air to be sucked out of the thing and the true torture to begin.

At first there was no hint at the air being pumped out from around her, the device doing the work seemed to be eerily silent though she was sure the process must have begun only moments after she was sealed inside. But then she began to feel the first hints of the material of the bed pulling closer to her body and she was under no illusions that the vacuum would soon be complete.

The view from the outside of the bed was far more impressive as the definition of Eleanor's body became ever clearer with the passing of time. She had been sealed inside with her arms at something like forty five degrees to her body and her legs slightly apart and so that was how she appeared in the stretched material of the bed. As the air finally left the vacbed and the material pulled as tight around her form as possible, every inch of her was visible beneath the surface, picked out in the pewter shade of the plastic.

Trapped inside the bed, Eleanor resembled a piece of erotic artwork that had been imbued with a life of its own as she began to move her body. All that was missing to complete the effect was a frame to surround her and a wall on which to hang the entirety of the piece upon.

In reality she had been unable to imagine what the experience of being inside the bed would be like as she waited for the air to be pumped out around her. The Squire's talk of lubricant and the sight of the slicked inside into which she had been sealed had failed to fully register so that the largest part of her mind still wondered if she would be rendered immobile once the vacuum was created.

But as soon as she made the smallest effort to move, Eleanor discovered that she was perfectly able to move her body thanks to the presence of the lubricant. At first she made only slight shifts in her position as she explored the alien sensation of slithering blindly within the confines of the bed. Her head moved from left to right and her arms slid to the edges of the bed and then back to find her own body as she traced her own stomach and breasts, marvelling at the curious feeling of her own flesh through latex and plastic.

The Squire had moved closer as she became more animated, leaving his perch on the desk and instead standing at the end of the bed where Eleanor's feet were just beginning to move with the rest of her body. The sight reminded him of a film he had seen some years before in which a character, the name of which escaped him, had been trapped inside a block of metal by the villain, his face and hands emerging from the surface in a rictus of helpless agony. He could not recall if he had enjoyed the film or not, such things were seldom on his mind these days, but he was far more interested in the sight of this trapped individual, writhing on the floor in front of him.

He knelt on the edge of the bed and placed the vibrating device in his hand onto the very tips of the toes on Eleanor's right foot. The surprise of the sudden contact made her recoil as much as she was able and push herself backwards until she reached the top of the bed, pulling her legs up after her.

Her reaction seemed to delight the Squire, a smile spreading across his face as he climbed onto the bed and pursued the retreating girl with his instrument of torture. He pressed the thing against the inside of her let leg while gripping the flesh of her right with his free hand and began to inch his way up her body.

Eleanor could only wriggle in silent protest beneath him as he stroked and stimulated her helpless form, excited as much by her impotent struggles as he was by the feel of her flesh through the many layers that lay between them.

When he reached her waist, he steered the vibrator slowly into the space between her legs and began to press down upon her vagina without a second of mercy. By now he was astride her thighs and adding his own weight to the downward force of the device, almost pushing it into Eleanor's body while his free hand massaged her breasts with a similarly harsh attention to nothing but his own gratification.

Now more than ever Eleanor experienced the indignity of being stripped of all choice and control over what became of her own body. She had been deprived of every sense that she possessed save for that of touch, but now even that was being overwhelmed and wrested from her control by the touch of the Squire and the incessant vibrations of his merciless appliance. There was no time for her to appreciate the humiliation of the experience as all other thoughts were crowded out by the inevitable effect that the vibrator was having upon the sensitive organs of her body.

There was no chance for a gradual progression from gentle stimulation and the slow building of arousal to more and more intense levels of sensation. The powerful force of the vibrator was simply dragged across her body and sunk into her groin where it began to have an immediate and irresistible effect.

Eleanor had experienced the gentle attentions of an amorous partner, but this was nothing of the kind and the brutal waves of contractions and spasms that resulted could never have been described as erotic for her. Instead they overwhelmed her and manifested as what seemed to be an effort to physically swim whilst still trapped within the bed, her arms and legs sweeping up and down beneath the surface and her back arching upwards from the floor. Perhaps it was a small mercy that the intense nature of the stimulation drove her to a dramatic climax within mere minutes, forcing her to almost bite through the mouthpiece that allowed her to breathe as it took hold of her and consumed the last of her energy in its intensity.

Perhaps it was also a mercy that the experience of straddling Eleanor's body as she climaxed was enough to cause the same reaction in the Squire only a few moments later.

He dropped the vibrator from his hand and sent it spinning across the floor as he pulled himself to his feet and retreated to the chair by the fire. Slumping down into the cracked leather, he leaned back and watched as Eleanor's body continued to twitch and slide within the bed as the last of the aftershocks gripped her. The aggressive need to manipulate her flesh had receded with his own climax to be replaced with a perverse enjoyment of quietly taking in the results of his indulgence on his helpless victim.

The Squire watched Eleanor's confused and random movements for some time as little by little she slithered around less energetically. Soon she had slowed her body to the point where she seemed to be on the verge of coming to a complete stop and maybe even succumbing to an exhausted sleep.

He knew it was not a good idea to leave her slumbering inside the vacbed, but then he had a domestic staff to worry about such things. There was no reason to think that the girl would be left to her fate so long as he remembered to ring for assistance before he fell asleep in front of the fire himself.

Though he felt quite drowsy, the Squire was fairly sure he would remember to pull the cord.

Well, the thought, as sure as any man can be.