When One Day We are Gone Ch. 02

"Cassidy. Wonderful! And you already have a drink, I see."

Cassie looked down at her glass, completely forgotten in the moment. Syn stood, her hand perched on her hip, surveying her.

"Did you bring a change of clothing?"

"Uh, no."

Cassie suddenly felt foolish, standing before the tall, elegant older woman.

Syn tutted, looking her up and down. "That will never do."

"I'm sorry," Cassie began, "I didn't really know what to wear to... whatever this is."

"Clearly." Syn's tone was uncompromising.

"I thought this was okay, last time."

"Last time, you were an observer. This time, you're a participant. You need to dress appropriately."

"Sorry, I didn't, uh, I mean, I don't...," Cassie stammered, faltering.

Syn frowned, then drew herself up haughtily.

"Do you know what our most effective tool is, Cassidy? If we want to engage in this sort of activity effectively?"

Cassie just shook her head, aware of how far out of her comfort zone she was.

In answer, Syn undid her sash and let the dressing gown cascade down her body, pooling around her feet, to reveal her body covered in a bodysuit of sleek, glossy black latex. Cassie took in the sight of Syn's lithe figure, accentuated by the dark, shiny surface, finally looking up to meet the older woman's pale blue, inscrutable eyes. Cassie's mouth opened but no words came out.

"Point taken?"

"Yes."

"We can command respect without a single word. How we make an entrance matters, Cassidy."

Syn pointed a long, elegant finger at Cassie's dress.

"We are not at the mother's group now," she said.

Cassie's shoulders sagged. "Sorry, I...."

"And none of that," Syn snapped. "Upright. Chin up. Eye contact. Your wardrobe choices can be rectified, your body language cannot."

Cassie rolled her shoulders back, straightening her spine, and met Syn's eyes.

"Better. Now, let's see what we have."

Syn walked back through the other door, beckoning Cassie to follow. On the other side, Cassie found herself in a room she had never seen before, lit from above with recessed lighting, each of the walls lined with racks and shelves. As Cassie turned to take it all in, she saw clothing of all manner and description, from long flowing dresses in soft leather, to latex bodices, to body harnesses of deviously intricate design. There were short skirts in a variety of different materials, long hobble skirts, blouses in shocking pink PVC, and everywhere there was silk. Against the far wall, the shelves displayed Syn's shoe collection. High heels were placed on the upper shelves and then graduating to impressive thigh-high boots below. Above them all, a set of masks and headpieces perched on mannequin heads.

Hanging on its own was a full-length dress, crafted from fine silk in rich, dark red. It was unadorned with pattern: a simple, elegant shape flowing from bodice to hem.

"Oh," Cassie murmured. "Wow. This is the dress."

Syn gave a deep, rolling laugh. "Yes, this is the dress."

Her latex-enclosed arm swept out to take in the entire collection.

"Like I said to you when we first met, I collect. As you can see, I'm not a lace girl."

Syn approached the elegant red dress, running the silk reverentially through her fingers.

"If there was a fire in the club," Syn confided, "I would rescue this before the staff."

For a moment, Syn's expression softened as she took in the folds of the dress, a tiny, lost smile playing on her lips. Then she turned and directed Cassie towards another rack.

"Now," she said, "Let's see what we can do for you. Have you ever worn a latex bodysuit before?"

Syn was close now and Cassie's gaze travelled over the older woman's shiny latex bodysuit. Syn trailed her hands through the racks of clothing thoughtfully.

"Maybe not on your first outing. But you will, Cassidy. I think you'll come to like it."

"Really?"

Syn stopped, turning her attention away from the clothes for a moment.

"Yes," she said. "I'm going to show you how to use your body to take control. From the merest gesture to the full experience, until you can halt traffic."

Syn's voice lowered, and she continued, "Until you can suspend the laws of physics. It's a brave new world, and it's also an art. Are you ready?"

Syn's eyes were searching her face now, waiting.

"Okay."

Syn turned back to the rack, and Cassie felt like she'd just been released. Syn began to discuss the night ahead.

"We'll need something like this, I think," she said, pulling out a long-sleeve dress in white latex with a wickedly-short hemline. She walked over to the footwear and chose a pair of thigh-high leather boots with a stiletto heel and a set of laces running from the heel all the way up the back of the leg.

"The couple you're going to meet have a very particular set of tastes, but we've made this a semi-regular arrangement over the years. Your role will be as my charming assistant. Don't make eye contact unless I indicate. If I need a toy, or help with a strap, that's what you're there for."

"Okay. I can do that."

"Of course. A mannequin could do that. If you feel like you have more to offer, we can let that evolve organically during the session. Just remember one golden rule."

"What's that?"

Syn turned to Cassie, pressing the boots into her hands.

"Don't break character. Unless the room's on fire, you're Mistress Grace until the end. Also, remember that tonight is about them, it's not about you, so that's where we focus. Now, strip."

The request to strip caught Cassie off guard, but Syn had already moved on, opening drawers and looking for other accompaniments for the night's activities. Embarrassed, Cassie unzipped her dress and stepped out of her heels, eyeing the white latex dress uneasily.

"All of it," Syn called over her shoulder. Her hand patted her own trim, glossy bottom. "You don't spend all your time getting dressed like this to ruin it with visible panty line."

Without waiting for a response, Syn walked out of the boudoir and back into the office, leaving Cassie to remove her underwear and begin the process of pulling the tight white latex down over her head and wriggling it down her torso. She slid her arms through the sleeves eventually, and then began to pull the dress down, feeling the material grip and shape her cleavage as it slid into place. She tugged the hem down, covering her bottom, but it went no further. The dress stopped at her upper thigh, just about shielding her crotch from view. Without any underwear on, she began to feel very exposed.

She slid her legs into the boots and pulled the laces tight, working the slack up her legs until she could feel the soft leather moulding itself to her skin. She straightened up, balancing on her heels, and began to make her way back into the office, feeling the way the clinging latex dress lifted and shaped her body with every step.

"Ready?" Syn asked.

"I guess."

"Oh no, that's not the attitude."

Syn was looking at her expectantly, waiting for the correct response.

Cassie smoothed her hands down the dress, feeling the way the white latex clung to her body, the frictionless surface of the shiny material. She stood with her feet together, balancing on the spiked heels of the thigh-high boots. She could feel the tight embrace of the black leather around her thighs and calves. She looked down at herself, acknowledging the way Syn's wardrobe had transformed her body.

"This is the point when one of two things happen," Syn said, "Either you look at yourself in the mirror and you feel embarrassed and ridiculous."

Syn's hand rested on the glossy white material of Cassie's bodice.

"Or you feel something in here, something you've never felt before. Something you'll only ever feel when you're in this moment, living it."

Syn ran her hand down Cassie's arm. Cassie felt her skin tingle beneath the latex.

"So, are you still Cassidy Hayes, or are you Mistress Grace?"

Cassie studied the pale, icy blue eyes locked onto her. A strange feeling began to rise inside her, and she took a deep breath. This was what she'd been leading up to, all those sessions with clients, all the little exercises in taking control. Syn stood with one hand on her hip, looking every inch the veteran dominatrix. Was this what she wanted, to be like Syn? Did she really want to step into this life?

There was a vast gulf between Cassidy Hayes and Mistress Grace, and Syn was standing on the other side, beckoning her across. Images of her friends came into her mind, of sitting around the table in parent teacher association meetings, of going to coffee mornings and bitching about any one of a thousand little things. Then there was her husband, the centre of her world, the man she had relied on all these years to be her rock, the man she thought she would gladly have grown old with, but who was betraying her. There was Lily.

A bitter anger welled up, just thinking about the two of them together. It swept through her in a wave, borne of humiliation and mediocrity and punishment.

"Madame Syn," she said, "I would be honoured to help you in whichever way you require."

Syn smiled a wide feral grin quite unlike anything the demure, composed older woman had ever exhibited before, and Cassie felt something rising in her too, something kindred. Syn opened the door to her office, holding it for Cassie to step through.

"Mistress Grace, after you."

"No, Madame Syn, after you."

Syn's eyes sparkled with secret mirth, "You first. I'm in control, remember."

Cassie shrugged and raised her chin regally. "As you wish," she said, striding confidently past the other woman.

"I just wanted to watch you walking from behind," Syn murmured as Cassie went past. "Those heels are doing amazing things to your wiggle."

Cassie smiled to herself, drawing herself upright, taking strides as long as she dared in the ankle-snapping heels, relishing the way her hips moved in the tight latex dress. Syn was right: Cassie felt like a catwalk model. She swayed down the corridor, feeling the electric buzz coursing through her body, taking her first steps into a brave new world.

They stopped at the third door and Syn laid a hand on the handle. She didn't open the door though.

"Ground rules. First, whatever I say goes. I've been doing this a long time, from both top and bottom, so if it starts to look strange or weird or cruel, just remember that and trust me. I know them both very well and we are in the business of pushing limits. Second, and this is vital, you never leave anyone alone."

Syn's voice dropped, and the pretence of this all being some kind of game evaporated.

"Never forget that you have a living, breathing human being helpless under your complete control. They can react in many different ways, and none of this is without physical risks. They are utterly dependent on you to keep them safe. Get into the scene by all means, enjoy it as much as you can, but remember that with great power comes great responsibility."

Cassie nodded mutely.

Syn's wide grin returned. "There, that's the professional ethics lecture out of the way. I know you get it. It's the same as the professional oath I'm sure you took, but with a slight twist: do harm, but not irreparable harm."

Syn turned the handle and opened the door. They entered an empty room, maybe about the size of a large bedroom. There was a chaise longue against one wall next to a rack containing a number of implements and toys. Against another wall there was a sturdy wooden cross in an X-shape, about the same height as Cassie, set with stainless steel rings and leather straps. Recessed lighting was turned down low to give the space a close, intimate feeling. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a remarkably-crafted stool.

Syn followed Cassie's gaze and walked over to the stool.

"You like it?" she asked.

"It's, uh, exotic," Cassie replied.

"It's a custom piece, made to my design by Tom," Syn said, "He's a consummate craftsman and I suspect he may also be a genius. He's utterly wasted at Harbinger's. I'll have to introduce you."

The stool was crafted in the shape of a kneeling woman, cast in a shiny black material. The sculpted figure had her hips thrust forward and her legs together, displaying her crotch. The arms reached behind the figure, hands gripping ankles to support the upper body. The effect was to thrust the shoulders back, raising the breasts prominently. However, the head and neck were absent, replaced by a plushly-upholstered leather cube. Syn traced her fingers over the buttons securing the padded leather to the substructure of the cube. She reached down and rapped the shoulder with her knuckles.

"Fibreglass, with a latex coating."

"It's really something," Cassie said. "Is it comfortable?"

Syn laughed, "Why don't you try it out?"

She patted the padding invitingly. Cassie looked around the room again, wondering what part she would be playing in the night's scene. Maybe this was Syn's intention, to have her glamorous assistant seated primly on a stool that had been sculpted like a kneeling woman, handing her whatever toys and devices she needed during the course of the night. Cassie felt a shudder of anticipation: so be it. She was happy to provide eye candy to Syn's clients. Cassie positioned her bottom on the padded leather.

Her first realisation was that the skirt was too short, riding all the way up until she felt her naked crotch making contact with the leather. Syn was grinning at her, obviously intending this outcome.

"Comfy?" Syn asked, coyly.

"It's very nice, but, um...."

Cassie gestured down to the white latex hem riding up her thighs until it exposed her crotch. She crossed her legs, defensively.

Syn shrugged. "Just keep your legs crossed," she said, "Or apart, as you want."

Syn rested a hand on Cassie's shoulder but didn't elaborate further. Cassie wondered what was expected of her next. Syn seemed to be waiting. She was about to ask when she felt a slick pressure between her legs. She attempted to rise from her seat, but Syn pressed her down, pinning her to the stool.

"What?"

The pressure shifted, extending, reaching deeper between her legs. The soft, slick shape seemed to be exploring her, searching. She felt the tip as it discovered the bottom of her slit. Suddenly, it thrust up and into her, making her insides squirm. Her mouth opened in mute surprise. Syn released the pressure on her shoulder, allowing Cassie to spring up off the seat.

She turned quickly, looking down at the stool. Between folds in the upholstered leather, a pink tongue wriggled and twisted, searching for Cassie's crotch. Cassie looked up at Syn in alarm, but Syn pressed an elegant finger to her lips, bidding her to silence. Syn unzipped her crotch, revealing pink pussy lips between black latex, and took Cassie's place, settling herself down on the stool. After a moment, she smiled appreciatively.

"That's Tom's genius," she said, as if just picking up the conversation where it had been left. "He turns people into furniture. Men, women, all shapes and sizes. He's extraordinarily creative."

Syn wiggled her hips, settling onto the seat. Cassie could imagine the soft, pink tongue worming its way between her folds. Cassie felt herself shiver at the memory of that delicate, probing touch. It had made her wet.

"The interesting thing is that you can turn anyone into furniture. They could have a PhD, they could be the CEO of a company. They could be charming, funny, elegant, the life of the party, but after a while trapped in position, they all begin to think like furniture. They just wait to be used."

Syn wiggled her hips again, her face flushing slightly due to the eager tongue's ministrations.

"She needed some convincing to be sequestered inside the stool. The fascinating thing is what it does to a person to be restrained like that. It could be for a few minutes, or for an hour, but for her it would start to feel like days. I guarantee that."

"I thought we weren't supposed to leave them alone?" Cassie whispered.

Syn handed Cassie a phone. The display showed several graphs, including heartrate.

"This was the other part of Tom's genius. I'm able to monitor her reactions very intimately. Just watch for a moment."

Cassie stared down at the little screen, seeing a graph begin to spike. The device traced out rapid crests and troughs, tapering off and eventually falling back to the baseline.

"Apparently it uses artificial intelligence, if you can imagine that," Syn remarked, "It learns from vaginal muscle contractions and heartrate. According to the blurb it only needs to run through a few orgasm cycles to understand just when the user is about to peak."

Syn took her phone back and tapped the screen a few times, continuing, "Hideously expensive, but worth every penny. You can just set an arousal threshold and the device will stop her going beyond that point. Of course, trapped inside the stool, she can't do anything to bring herself to orgasm, so she can only wait for the next cycle to begin."

"So you've been edging her via remote control?"

"It would appear so. I love modern technology. It takes the slog out of everything," Syn said, "Frees me up for more creative work."

Syn bent forward, placing a hand over one of the stool's shiny black breasts, stroking it. She got up and zipped her crotch closed again. The tongue weaved and danced, desperate to embed itself again.

"Ready with the nipple clamps?"

Cassie looked around, startled from staring at the trapped woman's figure. She made her way over to the shelves and located a pair of clips joined together by a length of silver chain. She showed them to Syn, who nodded.

"Ever used these?" Syn asked.

"No," Cassie replied.

She wanted to add that nipple clamps had never come up in her coffee morning discussions. The situation she found herself in was becoming more and more surreal, as she watched Syn twist a little wheel on the side of the clamps and then squeeze the jaws open.

"You can set them to different degrees of bite. This is the slackest level."

Syn placed a hand on Cassie's front, cupping one of her breasts through the white latex of the dress. Cassie flinched.

"If you are going to use something on someone, you should know how it feels."

Syn's thumb rubbed gently over the latex that covered Cassie's nipple. Her other hand was holding the jaws of one of the clamps open. Cassie looked down at her breast, cradled in Syn's hand, and felt a strange tingling sensation that went all the way down to her core as the other woman's thumb played over the slick white surface. Cassie watched as a bump began to rise in the latex. Syn positioned the jaws very carefully over her swollen nipple, still holding them open.

"Ready?"

Cassie's eyes flicked up to meet Syn's. The older woman was no longer smiling, her expression was now serious. This was a test: Cassie nodded.

Syn opened her fingers and a searing pain enveloped Cassie's breast. She hissed in shock, jaws clamped together to try and stifle a cry.

"The interesting thing is what happens next," Syn said.

Her tone was light, almost conversational, completely belying the pain she was inflicting. Cassie's breast ached but she gritted her teeth, determined not to beg Syn to release her. The icy blue eyes were regarding her closely, letting the seconds pass.

The sensation transformed into an ache as the shock of the initial spike gave way to a more encompassing pain.

"Feel how it's changing, as the blood flow stops to the nipple. Not numb, but not the same?"

Cassie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Syn knelt down in front of the stool, again tracing her hands over the figure's breasts.

"One modification to the design that I asked for," Syn said, rubbing the black mounds, "Was to leave the front of the breasts unshielded. There's no fibreglass moulding here, it's just a thin layer of latex. You can squeeze as hard as you like."