Dionaea

She could feel it. It was prodding at her eyelids, threatening to break her fixed gaze of Geôlière's expansive cleavage and abyssal eyes. Why... why wasn't she more upset? Why wasn't she angry? Her body panted and heaved, practically floating in the soft hands of the maids. She... she was gone, wasn't she? She didn't have time to decide - the pleasure prevented it from passing, her body frozen and weak like a porcelain doll - joints aching from the constriction, head throbbing from the cathartic passing of pain and fear - body trembling, wanting, needing -

With one motion, the Madame slid away her panties and pushed Eliza's length inside her - just in time for the substance to spread across Eliza's eyes.

The world went dark.

And then she could see again.

Everything was a dancing web of white lines, intersecting and twisting and bending. Flawless and beautiful was Geôlière's body from these new eyes! Her gyrating movements twisted and spun so gingerly, like the pristine math of a charted curve. Without her old, useless eyes, the pleasure in Eliza's cock was amplified tenfold, ten thousandfold - instinctively she convulsed, digging her latex-coated hands into the Madame's soft, pillowy breasts. She ran them over her nipples, just barely poking through her sheer white dress. Her hands elicited a delighted coo and a shiver from Geôlière, who increased the speed of her gyrating hips. The soft sound of skin sliding against skin stuck out in the silent foyer, dampened only by the ring of maids who now stood surrounding the two, watching eagerly. Waiting.

Muffled moans let the Madame know that Eliza was close. Closer than she'd ever been in her life - not only to orgasm and the pinnacle of all the pleasures she'd known in life thus far, but to her true purpose. The lines - they rearranged themselves! They showed her how beautiful everything could be, if only it were organized to the standards of one wise enough to see things for how there are!

Like Geôlière.

"You're ready, mon poupée."

The Madame clenched her thighs and sent Eliza over the edge instantly.

She had little time to enjoy it before a tight fist wrapped itself around her throat. Another. Geôlière was pushing herself into Eliza, her cunt's strong muscles milking her for every delightful, orgasmic drop of cum her poor, tired body could muster. Every inch of her skin was alight with the sensation of ten orgasms on top of themselves, stacked in never-ending, spiraling fractals of delight. How could it be possible to feel so good? Each muscle convulsed and shivered in tune with her muffled cries - even with her gagged mouth, they were so loud! No words existed to describe this, no memories to compare - all had been whisked away by the good Madame! This was her forever. This, she hoped, would go on and on -

Geôlière whispered something into her muffled ear, but Eliza couldn't hear it. In an instant, consumed by a maelstrom of agonizing bliss, her mind shattered.

Her black rubber body fell limp in the hands of the Madame.

Time passed. It was impossible to say how long - such concepts no longer mattered. Geôlière rolled her heavy body off of the maid's. Black, inky cum dripped from her pussy; it ran down her thigh for the moment it took for another maid to arrive with a towel and wipe it away for her. The Madame sighed, kneeling beside the poor, exhausted girl lying on the floor. Her matte black lips curled into a smile.

"You've so much work ahead of you, mon cherie."

The other maids in the crowd knelt beside their new companion, touching her soft, rubbery skin. With dozens of delicate hands, they lifted her to her feet; for a moment, the poor thing stumbled as she came to her senses, learning how to live with her new faculties. Her gaze was fixated on Geôlière - and then on the painting on the wall. It was crooked, still; by no more than a quarter of an inch, of course, but she was transfixed. Enchanted. It wouldn't have been the first time.

All waited with held breath before she stepped, stumbling, towards it. A trembling, rubber-coated hand ran along the length of the borderless frame. The Madame licked her matte-black lips. She and the maids watched excitedly as, finally, Eliza adjusted the frame.

And then she stood, still and quietly. Heels clicked against the white, stone floor behind her; the thing that used to be Eliza fell into Geôlière's waiting arms, mind empty and body weak. Soft lips, not constricted by latex, kissed her own.

"You've quieted down, la copine. It suits you so much better, doesn't it?." The Madame cradled the limp and tired body, hoisting her off the ground with ease.

Already the maids began to arrive, carrying makeup, foundation, facepaints - and a frilly, black uniform, trimmed with white and cut so conservatively. Eliza would never be caught dead in such a thing! So... old fashioned. So modest.

But Eliza wasn't here, any more.

Geôlière whispered into black, reflective ears.

"And you are finally mine."

--

Stephanie patiently tapped her foot against the paved walkway, checking her phone. This... was the address. It wasn't like her to just... run off like this! Surely if she had to stay later, she'd send a text - but Stephanie never got one. Truthfully, she wasn't sure whether or not to be worried or just annoyed. What was Eliza even doing out here? She'd always hated rich people!

The intercom on the gate crackled a bit as it came to life.

"May I help you?" the voice on the other end asked, mature and imposing.

"Hi, yeah - I was wondering if you've seen my girlf-"

Stephanie was interrupted by the sight of a woman standing behind the gate, gazing at her. She was dressed in a conservative, frilly French maid's uniform, her short hair - even shorter at the sides - dyed jet black.

The voice on the other end continued. "Your girlfriend? I'm afraid I've not, étrangère. What does she look like?"

For a moment Stephanie paused, hesitating. She... wasn't sure why. The maid kept staring at her.

"She's... about as tall as the woman in your courtyard. Dyed fauxhawk, kinda muscular? Tattoos?"

The woman clicked her tongue. "Curious. Please, dear, come inside - I believe we will cover more ground face à face."

The speaker hissed and died, prompting the maid on the other side of the fence to open the gate for her. The two were alone, now. Stephanie blinked cautiously.

"She... couldn't have gotten far." She mumbled to herself, looking back at the road she came from and back up at the foreboding white manor before her. Stephanie smiled. She'd find Eliza before long - and the two of them stepped together, walking towards the great, imposing doors.