Karla in Orgaplex

"Now," she said, "Again. And don't try to copy my technique. That never works."

How could I put myself into the music? I did not know. But I started to play, resigned to yet another dour review when I finished. Then a few bars into it, I thought of being fucked by Master. I imagined the rhythm and tempo of the music to be him pressing into me, licking my nipples, biting my clit. I gave myself over to those images and combined them with the music.

When I finished, I looked at Melissa. She wore a dreamy expression that was a sharp departure from her usual demeanor. I waited for her to speak.

"Uh, that was better. Much better. How you managed it is beyond me. But whatever you're doing, keep it up. Now I believe that it is time for you to take your nap."

"Yes, ma'am." Playing with that kind of intensity was emotionally draining, and I yearned to curl up in my capsule and masturbate myself to sleep. I left the music room and headed for the library.

Upon entering the library the capsule was unsealed, the open end beckoning. The capsule is about six feet long and four in diameter. It is made of transparent lucite and rests on a plinth. Master keeps it in the library as a kind of display. Sometimes he will sit in the armchair nearby and simply watch me play with myself and sleep. Like so much else in the mansion it operates automatically, opening in the evening and sealing me in for the night and doing likewise each afternoon for my nap.

Along with my passion for smoothness, I like being confined. Anyway, I have a proprietary attitude toward the capsule. It is my private space. No one has ever entered it but me.

Stripping off my clothes, I headed toward its inviting opening. But just as I was about to enter, I heard Melissa, who apparently had followed me instead of leaving as she usually did.

"What is that, slave?"

It is my sleeping capsule, Ma'am."

Approaching it and me, she said, "I want to see."

"It is just where I sleep, Ma'am. Nothing more." I began to crawl inside. Then, just as I was almost in, Melissa followed. Once she was completely inside, the capsule sealed itself.

It's probably obvious, when you think about it, that slaves do not express anger. Isn't really consistent with the idiom. But at that moment I felt like being idiomatically inconsistent. She had invaded my Space, and I was Fucking Pissed. Excuse me, Master hates that kind of vulgarity.

The capsule was expressly designed for one occupant, namely moi. It fitted me perfectly. Room enough to stretch out my full five feet and an inch or sit up if I choose. Adding a five-foot, ten-inch Amazonian music teacher made it more than a bit cramped. I arranged myself as best as I could and contained my pique. How was I supposed to frig myself to sleep with her in here?

She looked around and began to grow uneasy. "OK, I have seen enough, slave. Open it."

I turned my back to her and muttered, "I can't, ma'am. It's remotely controlled. It will not open again for three hours."

She grabbed me and turned me around violently. "I said open it, Godammit! Open it now!"

"It is an impossibility ma'am."

"Break it open."

"Sorry, ma'am." Not even our combined strength could make so much as a dent in it."

Her face had become a mask of terror. Hmm. Melissa was a claustrophobe. She feared confinement as much as I loved it. Interesting. The realization gave me a sensation I had never had, that of power.

"Ma'am, with all due respect (was I ever relishing this), there is nothing to be done about it. The capsule will open when it is supposed to. Now it is time for me to sleep. My Master requires it. And I think that you know only too well that he will not be pleased if you prevent me. I closed my eyes, doing all that I could to keep from smiling.

"Slave. Slave. Listen to me." I could hear her choking up. "Slave. Karla. Please talk to me. I'm so scared. When I was small and misbehaved my Mother would lock me in a steamer trunk and leave me there for as much as a day. It smelled of mothballs and one time a spider was inside and it crawled under my clothes and I could feel it crawling over me. I can't be confined, it's like being dead. Oh, please, please say something."

She continued to beg piteously for me to acknowledge her. It did not take long before my heart began to give in. My career as a dominant had lasted for about five minutes.

I opened my eyes. "Melissa, don't be afraid. I spend hours on end in here, happy as a clam. This is not exactly a steamer trunk you know."

It surely was not. Orgaplex was not the only polymer that my master had whipped up. He also invented the material for my mattress. It conformed to your contours and adjusted its temperature to yours so that you were always comfortable. The capsule is soundproof so there is nothing to disturb your slumber. But what was perfect for me was anything but for poor Melissa.

"Now calm down. We have less than three hours now before the capsule unseals. I know you're scared. But there is nothing to fear."

"I am really scared."

I started to feel a bit devilish. Melissa was a very attractive woman.

"Tell you what, Melissa. Can you keep a secret?"

"What kind of secret?"

"I'll stay awake and if we're lucky the capsule will pop open before Master gets home. You can go on your way and no one will be the wiser. In the meantime I have something we can do to take your mind off things."

I kissed her full lips, paused, then kissed her again, this time longer. My fingers moved down and unbuttoned her slacks slid inside. I reached her panties (nice material) and gently began to probe.

Melissa responded in no time at all. It was a bit difficult to get her clothes off - she was longer than the capsule - but we managed. She was the best toy I had ever had in the capsule. Her breasts were pendulous and so suckable. And her pussy, though completely in proportion to the rest of her, seemed huge. She was so big and I was so little that I thought for a moment that I was having sex with Gulliver's sister. I nimbly moved around to position my mouth and hand just where I wanted them and went to town.

While I sucked and licked her swelling clit my fingers were busy pressing inside. She was slippery and soaking wet and her former sobs were now moans of pleasure. Finger by finger I pressed on and with a sharp shove, drove my hand into her. She began to shudder and press her cunt against me. I was still fucking her when the capsule popped open. She did not even notice.

I slipped my hand out and lay back down next to her. Her face was that of a happy woman. I hugged her and rested my head against her breasts, thinking that we would be getting up soon.

She fell asleep.

Enough. I had been the compassionate slave, but I had to get dinner ready.

"Melissa. Time to get up now." No response.

I grabbed a nipple and squeezed hard. She jumped.

"Melissa, the capsule is open now."

Yawn. "Oh, that's nice." Slowly she roused herself. We extracted ourselves from the capsule and she dressed.

I walked her to the door, her arm around my shoulders. As she left, she kissed me, smiled, and said, "You know, that old steamer trunk would not have been so bad if a slut like you had been in there with me."

I could not help feeling pleased with myself. I am good. Really good.

Needless to say, the whole secret subterfuge was false. Over a dinner of Caesar salad, (the genuine article by the way, raw egg and all) followed by linguine with white clam sauce, a Valpolicello, and sorbet, I related the whole tale, chapter and verse.

Master twirled a bit more pasta against his spoon. "So you liked having a little power over someone, did you?"

"It was a novel experience, entirely new to me. But in the end I did not like playing with someone in pain."

"So many people seem to thrive on it. Think of all the masters and mistresses we know that devote most of their time to coming up with ever more lurid ways to keep their slaves in agony. And then think of all the slaves who need to be treated that way. Cruelty is definitely one of the pigments on the palette of human desire, but I have never been able to understand its appeal. I enjoy having a slave and I derive great pleasure from putting you through all sorts of physical and psychological contortions. But the experience is not complete for me unless you end up cumming by the bucket. I like knowing that no matter how much you cum, you always want to cum even more. That you live to cum. It is the most erotic thing I have ever experienced. And after all providing satisfaction is what a slave is for. You do your job well."

"I know that I am just an obsessive-compulsive nymphomaniac, master. But I am so grateful to you for making me express it in so many different ways. Thank you so much."

"Let's have our sorbet in the music room. I am in the mood for some Haydn. Afterward you may finish thanking me."

"As you wish, Master."

The Party of 100

It had been several days since Master had mentioned that he wanted to get the Orgaplex ready in time, but I still had no clue what it had to be ready in time for. What could it be?

He was coming home late, too late even for dinner, and I do so hate to dine alone. The Standard Routine kept me busy. But I missed him. He wasn't fucking me enough.

It wasn't that my urges were being neglected. Left to my own devices I can keep myself satisfied. And of course, while I was picking flowers, Carlo, the gardener, gave me a nice, long fuck. And then at the beautician, Marie, the manicurist, was kind enough to strap on her preposterously large dildo and ream my ass, while Joan, the stylist, did a creditable job of keeping my clit throbbing with her tongue. At the Spa, John gave a whole new meaning to total body massage.

But then there is sex and then there is sex with my Master. Actually, what I mean is that there is sex and then there is making love with my master. Love is not a word he ever has used, and it would be rank presumption for his slave to talk to him about such a thing. But the truth is that I love him so much. All the other sex is just fun, a way to scratch my perpetual itch, please Master with my erotic capacity, and see how far it is possible to go. With my Master it satisfies another need.

I know he loves me. He never needs to say so.

Finally, after four days of his being occupied with work I emerged from the capsule after my nap to find Master sitting in the library watching me. He was looking quite satisfied with himself.

"Karla, my dear slut, it is done."

"I am glad that whatever is done is done, Master."

"I will tell you after dinner. Get along now."

After dinner we returned to the library.

"Tomorrow there will be a Party of the Hundred."

"That's wonderful, Master." The Party of the Hundred was a gathering of 100 masters and mistresses and their slaves. Quite an illustrious list of people. Scientists, judges, academics, artists. All of whom shared the common interests of dominance and submission. The parties occurred according to no schedule, happening whenever it was possible to bring everyone together.

The parties usually followed the same form. They began with a reception, a grand banquet, some dancing, and then entertainment in the form of one slave who would have the challenge of satisfying the rest. One hundred ninety-nine people to service. From time to time the entertainment would be a male, but by and large it was a female. More orifices to work with. Some of the slaves that have done it have told me that being the center of a gang bang of that magnitude is truly an unique experience.

"I wanted you to look your best, and I wanted to show off a little as well. So I have been working hard to get the Orgaplex modifications finished. You will wear it to the party."

"That's so exciting! Thank you Master." I finished my thanks with especial zeal.

I had wanted to wear the Orgaplex again. Since the first time I had worn it, regular old latex seemed to be running a poor second. Form fitting though it may be, there are still folds when you bend and you can get clammy at times. I couldn't wait to get those millions of machines covering my body again.

"Once people see it, everyone will want one, Master. Rubber fashions are so popular among the 100."

"I have no intention of going into the clothing business, Karla. Being a merchant is so plebian. Besides, I do not think that Orgaplex fashions would move off the shelves. Too pricey. Your suit represents nine million dollars of work and most of that is materials alone. I do not plan to make another. Like the capsule and the Standard Routine, it is for you and you alone."

I was dumbstruck. The amount of money that my Master lavished on his slut was never lost on me. But this was unbelievable.

"Words fail me, Master. A mere thank you would be inadequate."

"Just as well, slave. I haven't yet bounced back from your last expression of gratitude. Now off to bed."

I performed my ablutions and returned to the library, where the capsule was waiting unsealed. In I went.

Master remained in the armchair, watching me. But I was oblivious to his gaze once I began pleasuring myself with my dildo and then went to sleep.

It was hard to concentrate on the Standard Routine the next day, so excited was I about wearing the Orgaplex. Finally evening came, and Master covered me in that wonderful material. At my feet, it shaped itself into a pair of especially tall heels that put me almost on tiptoe. Oddly, though the Orgaplex felt the same as it did before. I wondered what the modifications were.

He threw on his tuxedo jacket, wrapped me in a black cape, and we walked out to the limosine.

The ride to the mansion of the master hosting the party was brief and quiet. Master was not especially talkative. When we arrived, he turned to me and said, "it's time to finish your outfit."

"I thought it was finished, Master."

"Not quite." My arms began to move, but I wasn't moving them. The Orgaplex was. They went behind my back, bending at the elbows. The material, instead of covering each arm separately changed shape and spread over them. I was more effectively bound than ever before.

"Open your mouth."

I did so and he sprayed something into it that tingled.

"Just a local anasthetic to paralyze your vocal cords. It will wear off by tomorrow. But tonight I want you to be silent. The Hundred will be astonished by the entertainment you will be providing, for tonight you will be a living doll. Now close your eyes."

The Orgaplex which had stopped at my neck began to rise until my entire head was covered. I turned my head and could still feel my hair moving.

"That's right, the Orgaplex has covered each individual hair. You are completely encased. Don't worry about breathing. You will have no difficulty with that. But you might be a bit apprehensive about the sensory deprivation at first. Just relax. I am sure that you will adapt well. And anyway you will be receiving quite a lot of sensory input in a few hours.

The last thing that happened is that the Orgaplex began to expand into my ears, shutting out all sound. I was blind, deaf and mute. Truly a doll.

My master attached a collar and leash and guided me out of the car and into the mansion, I suppose. We seemed to walk for a few minutes and then came to a stop. The Orgaplex around my legs began to shift and as it had with my arms and surrounded them as one. Then it became completely rigid. I was immobilized, a sleek, black statue.

As I mentioned, I have always liked being confined, but I had never been confined like this before. Nor come to think of it had anyone. This was a first.

I pondered my situation. I was not uncomfortable. But I was completely alone in a room full of people, many of whom were probably looking at me in complete wonder. They could even be running their hands over my smooth surface. The Orgaplex seemed thicker than it had been when I had first worn it. Then I could feel things through it. Now it was more like armor.

More movement. The material began to compress my waist more than any corset ever had. I felt as though it was shrinking to the diameter of the neck of a brandy bottle. Then it stopped. It was impossibly tight. What did I look like?

I waited. I decided to try to sleep. I drifted off and began to dream. All sorts of images drifted through my consciousness. But slowly, eerily, I began to realize that I was not asleep, but I was wideawake dreaming. Lacking any sensory input my brain was still generating images without any stimulus. I supposed they were more properly hallucinations. I simply let them occur. Occasionally I would interrupt them by trying to maintain a train of thought.

Let's see, we got here at about 8. The entertainment should begin at about 11 or so. That's three hours. And I have been standing here for what, 15 minutes, half an hour. There is no way to tell. I was conscious of my heartbeat and started counting beats. Using 70 beats for a minute, I attempted to keep track of the time. I started to play melodies in my brain. The Haydn from yesterday. Beethoven's Sixth Symphony. Yes. Good. That should take up some time. I was beginning to sense that sensory deprivation could be somewhat uncomfortable. But I just had to ride it out.

The images my brain was generating finally carried me away into a kind of madness for lack of a better word. I felt disembodied, more of an idea of a person than a real one. Then, finally, the Orgaplex began to move. My limbs were freed and I was walking, then kneeling, then lying on my side. Bending at the waist. Finally I lay on my back. My legs began to move up toward my head until my feet were crossed behind it. My hands extended down along my breasts and seem to be resting on the backs of my thighs. Then I felt as though I was being turned over and lifted. It was so hard to tell. At least the activity provided some sensory input. There would be so much to tell Master tomorrow.

I was bracing myself for the return of the hallucinations when I felt air against my skin. Parts of me were coming uncovered. Five parts. My mouth, breasts, pussy and ass.

The entertainment was about to begin.

A cock entered my mouth. Another entered my ass. Mouths fastened to my breasts and pussy. I devoured the sensations. I felt cum filling my mouth. I swallowed. Another cock pressed in. Someone was shooting into my ass. I felt as though I was swinging. I must be suspended in some sort of sling, positioned to make all my openings available. The idea of what was occurring started to excite me. Soon, the first cascade of orgasms passed through me. And then another. Again and again. It was spectacular.

More cocks. More cum. A pussy pressed against my mouth. One enormous cock entered my pussy. Hands fondled my nipples. I could feel the growing abundance of cum mixed with my own considerable juices flowing out of my pussy every time a cock was withdrawn. My ass was completely dilated. Any hunger I had from not eating was being sated by the loads of semen I was swallowing.

x

The orgasms were endless by now. The pendulum had swung from no stimulation to more stimulation than I had ever experienced. I was not thinking anymore, only feeling more and more pleasure. This is what I had been seeking. This is the state I had so long wanted to be in. I was ecstatic.

The penetrations and sucking began to slow down. Finally, the last cock erupted in my mouth and my ass and pussy were empty. The openings in the Orgaplex closed. It enfolded my body. I could feel twin rivers of cum flowing from my ass and pussy, causing the Orgaplex to accommodate it. I passed out, bathed in cum from head to toe.

When I returned to consciousness, I was lying in my Master's bed in my Master's arms. The Orgaplex was gone. I had never felt so naked. He stroked my hair.