Feminization narrative: The Barbie Clause - Episode 2

The Barbie Clause - A Feminization Story - Part 2 Story ideas by Rebecca. Written by Bound Jenny. Here is the second part of the story. I suppose you have all been salivating in anticipation! Enjoy, and wipe up your drool after you’re finished!:wink: Or whatever other bodily fluid you may have leaked out while reading this…:twisted: Jenny.

Chapter 3 - Exposure Act I - Return to the scene of the crime After three months, along with a handful of unbelievably intense “rewards” from Madam—which showed she was clearly very pleased—I was in the middle of recapping that day’s mail for her in her study when an announcement came through that I would have rather done without.

“Barbie dear, you are integrating your functions so well, and with such a new personality and appearance, that I will take you out of here for the first time.” My heart skipped a few beats before starting to pound hard. Out in public looking like this? I gulped. Actually, it wasn’t the most frightening announcement. Madam detected my apprehension and stood up.

She stepped beside me, draping an arm around my shoulders. “Barbie, you will one day have to come out in the open as Barbie. I don’t just need someone to shuffle papers here or play with when I please. I need someone who has confidence in herself—a grown woman with self-assurance. To gain that, you must overcome your fears of being exposed, of being caught and discovered. I know some people find it a turn-on, but that isn’t the goal here.” I was trying hard not to shake.

“You will come with me to the office.” I flinched slightly. “It is necessary. It will only be for the day, and you’ll be with me most of the time. I need your skills, and I need you to become accustomed to who you are now—not just a shy plaything hiding in some closet.” Fighting back the urge to crumple onto the floor, I nodded nervously. “Yes, Madam. I understand. It’s for my good.” Madam smiled, hugging me gently while caressing my back. “That’s a good girl,” she said comfortingly. Her hypnotic voice worked its magic, and I felt somewhat reassured.

I gathered my nerves at the same time as I collected Madam’s important work documents and tools. My made-over, remodeled appearance had left me more or less unrecognizable. It had been three months since I was last in that office. Would anyone have a memory clear enough to see through the makeup and other changes? I rechecked myself in the mirror several times, looking for any piece of my old self that might tip someone off. I had lost some weight; my jowls were gone, and my eyebrows sat separate from each other now, unlike before.

Madam called out, signaling it was time to go. Picking up her things, I followed her to the front door. We went straight down to her big Ford, which remained impeccably spotless. I put Madam’s briefcase in the trunk and wished I could hide inside—it was large enough for that. While Madam got into the driver’s seat, I sat next to her and buckled my seat belt.

Being in a large car can feel secure, but the wide open space around me made me feel exposed, as if all the world could see me. During the short drive to the office, I found myself tugging at the hem of my skirt several times. As we drew nearer, familiar sights from my daily commute came into view, and my apprehension grew. With every shrinking distance, my heart pounded harder and faster, and my breathing quickened. When we finally pulled into the parking lot, I was on the brink of hyperventilation, with a heart attack lurking closely behind.

I fumbled to open the seat belt buckle; my fingers were trembling so much it took effort. Madam took both my hands, looked deep into my eyes, and I felt that hypnotic drilling into my soul once more. “Everything will be all right, Barbie. Concentrate on who you are now. No one will recognize you.” She assured me. “Be a strong woman; go one step at a time. Don’t think about what is coming; think about how far you have come.” The touch of her hands was already a huge relief, and her words combined with her deep gaze gave me the courage to start by stepping out of the car’s security.

I fetched the briefcase from the trunk, trying to appear as casual as possible. There were a few people in the parking lot, and in my mind, they all seemed to be looking at me. The side of the building appeared to have more windows than I remembered; each one felt like someone was there watching, guessing who I was. “One step at a time,” I repeated internally. “Not what’s coming, only how far I’ve come.”

I concentrated on Madam’s lovely figure and the sound of our heels echoing through the corridor as we walked. We entered the elevator thankfully alone, and the doors closed. I let out a silent breath of relief and tried to slow my pulse. “Are you okay, Barbie?” Madam asked with concern.

“Yes, Madam. Just a little nervous.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Remember what I told you: one step at a time, and concentrate on how far you’ve come.” She paused, then added in a hot breath against my neck, “Please me, my Barbie Doll.” That moment brought flashbacks of Madam’s torrid, convulsive, thoroughly erotic throes of passion. I shivered once—and oddly stopped shaking. Just that thought had more or less dissipated my nerves.

It didn’t last long. When the elevator doors opened, we came face to face with Jeff, the office clown and general pain in the ass. He froze as he caught Madam’s stern gaze, then looked at me. I could have died on the spot; I must have shrunk visibly into a corner of the elevator.

“Who is this hot b-” he started before Madam shot back,

“She is with me, Hartland.” Thankfully, that got his eyes off me and onto Madam.

“And if I ever hear you again referring to any member of the female personnel as a quote - ‘hot babe’ - unquote, I’ll have you mopping floors on the night shift! Capiche?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Come along, Barbara,” she said.

I slinked out of the elevator, passing inches away from Jeff. In that moment, I realized he was just about to call me a “hot babe”! He didn’t recognize me! As we walked away and before the doors closed on Jeff, I exaggerated my hip motion just to rub it in, giving that arrogant SOB an eyeful.

I ventured quietly, “Madam?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you, Madam.”

Madam smiled and replied, “I promised to take care of you. I deliver on my promises. You are pleasing me very, very much.” I shivered again.

We walked through the common office area with its dividers and cubicles. Well, actually Madam walked—elegantly at that—but I strutted! The incident with Jeff broke the ice; I felt invincible as long as Madam was by my side. All the makeup, clothes, corset, and accessories suddenly felt like impenetrable armor, an airtight disguise.

We crossed paths with several former co-workers. Though apprehensive each time, it wasn’t nearly what I had felt before Jeff arrived. Each person who passed gave me either a passing glance or a hungry leer, boosting my confidence as a woman—as Barbie. These people were accepting me as Barbie, as a real woman! A rush of exhilaration hit me; the apprehension from each encounter turned into something new, something I hadn’t felt before in such circumstances: I was turned on!

The day went much better than the predictions of doom, exposure, and lynching my mind had concocted earlier. I entertained mental images of trapping some of the more annoying characters, like Jeff, into physical play, then showing them the video after revealing my true identity. Madam’s influence was rubbing off on me…

Act II - Just reward Finally, at six o’clock, we left. I was glowing with excitement, ebullient. Madam drove us to a nice Spanish restaurant—one I couldn’t have afforded with my former salary and likely wouldn’t even have been granted a reservation in the past. The maitre-d’hotel greeted Madam at the door; obviously knowing her well, he personally escorted us to a private

The hostess showed us to our table and signaled a waiter who immediately began attending to us. Madam treated me to the finest meal I’ve ever had, covering every bill. It left me absolutely delighted…

Back at home, we headed straight for my bedroom. She underwent a complete metamorphosis from poised executive into an intensely passionate creature driven by sensuality. I was already accustomed to her use of handcuffs and had grown fond of them. Barely clad in my undergarments, she offered me a leather collar, which I took with a grin. As it settled around my neck, tight enough to be arousing on its own, I felt the erotic tension rise.

Next, she produced another leather device: a single glove equipped with shoulder straps. Familiar with Madam’s unusual preferences in erotica, I went along—I really had no alternative. She slid the sheath over my arms and fastened it behind me, pulling the straps taut against my shoulders and chest to draw them back. A sharp intake of breath escaped me, which seemed to ignite her desire further. As she tightened the belts running down the glove’s length, drawing my arms inward, I found myself getting aroused too.

Madam clipped a leash to my collar and playfully guided me about, giggling as I wobbled on high stiletto heels, struggling to balance without using my hands. She would occasionally stroke me softly or drag her nails lightly across my skin, which felt incredibly stimulating. The goosebumps that rose made her even more heated. With a firm pull on the leash, she drew me toward the bed and climbed atop me once more.

I’m not sure how she managed it, but my artificial vagina loosened up, freeing my cock for the first time in three months of confinement. The effect was instant; I swelled with hardness within seconds. Madam worked her magic, massaging me until I hovered on the edge, then paused to tease me by licking and brushing my skin with fleeting touches as I writhed beneath her. She shifted upward, bringing her own lovely genitals mere inches from my face. The scent of her was strong now, clouding my mind slightly.

“Do you want me?” Madam asked in a husky voice, moving her hips just enough to let her pubic hair graze my nose. I nodded nervously. “Yes, Madam.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and lust as she commanded, “Lick me,” slowly lowering herself so the tip of my tongue could reach.

She tasted wonderful… She moved in close yet pulled back just enough to heighten her allure. Struggling to touch that little piece of heaven, I felt Madam masterfully applying every rule of seduction to drive me wild with lust and desire. Using one foot to gently caress my member while I tended to her womanhood with my tongue was particularly effective.

Then came her breasts; as I licked, suckled, and nibbled them softly, Madam beamed with pure joy. She had used the leash to lift me up so I could reach higher, then slackened it just enough to tease. She was building into a frenzy herself. After sensually placing a condom on me, she mounted and impaled herself. At last, I was inside her! She rose and fell vigorously, moaning, growling, hissing like an animal while jerking the leash that held my collar with a slight strangling pressure. Surprisingly, this added to my arousal. We climaxed together; her guttural roar easily drowned out my own cry of pleasure. I had never heard a woman scream quite so powerfully—it was both eerie and deeply erotic.

Breathing heavily, she dismounted wearily and collapsed beside me. She draped an arm over my bound body and drifted into sleep. Moments later, as tension finally left me, I followed suit, dreaming of Madam claiming her wicked due from my helpless self.

I awoke the next morning half-expecting to find Madam still sleeping nearby. Instead, I was alone, unbound, wearing a nightgown tucked neatly around me. How this occurred without waking me remained a mystery. Reaching between my legs, I confirmed that the fake cunt had been repositioned. Checking the clock, seeing it was time anyway, I rose.

As I showered, recalling the unforgettable events of the previous night, I reflected on Madam’s prowess. Though I have known many sexually active girlfriends, none matched Madam in every conceivable way. It wasn’t just their technique or raw sensuality—though she possessed both in abundance—but her commanding presence and total control over the situation that set her apart. Unlike other girls who simply wanted to copulate, Madam was clearly leading everything: controlling each moment, sensation, emotion, movement, and reaction down to the very last goosebump. It felt strangely refreshing yet compelling; she played me like a musical instrument. And truly, we made beautiful music together…

I stepped out into my daily routine. Dressing had become effortless; I could now handle it alone, even donning the corset myself. All that was required was measuring my waist accurately and recording the number honestly. Periodic inspections ensured my truthfulness. Always honest by nature, I wanted to avoid displeasing Madam—pleasing her proved far more rewarding than risking her disappointment.

Makeup followed before the wig application. My skills had improved significantly; each day our appearance grew increasingly convincing. Once carefully aligned and secured, I checked myself in the mirror before heading downstairs for breakfast.

With extra time available, I practiced my walk further. Having graduated to four-inch heels, I was still adapting to the new foot posture required. These shoes featured very steep insteps, shifting much of my weight onto the balls of my feet. Walking up and down the corridor helped me adjust; I noticed taking slightly shorter, more delicate steps with better alignment—each step falling directly in line like walking a tightrope—I felt my hips sway sensually side to side.

Chapter 4 - The Noose Tightens Act I - Ballerina Barbie

The rest of the week passed peacefully. That Friday evening, Madam was present and engaged in her bondage games with me. Each session increased strictly in intensity. I complied willingly, hoping eventually to earn a reward similar to earlier that week.

That night, Madam unveiled something entirely outrageous: a pair of ballet boots featuring stiletto heels so high only the very tip of my toes touched the ground. “I will teach you how to walk in these, darling Barbie Doll,” she announced as I slipped one foot inside after loosening the laces.

The boots were quite stiff; bending the ankle proved the hardest part. Noticing my struggle, Madam offered assistance. “Remove your foot again.” Obediently, I lifted it out. She cradled her hands around my foot—those magic-working hands of hers—and began gently massaging my calf and ankle, occasionally pressing specific points with her thumbs. Suddenly, the tension vanished from my ankle, leaving it remarkably flexible.

She helped me slide into the right boot again, tightening the laces securely. It was infinitely easier than before. “Give me your other foot, Barbie.” After repeating the process on the left leg and securing the final lace, she asked triumphantly, “Now, Barbie, isn’t that a lovely sight?” I extended my leg to inspect them.

“Yes, Madam,” I replied, nodding. She traced her fingernails lightly over my thigh. “Wait here.” Retiring briefly to her study, she returned carrying another pair of ballet boots—her own pumps replaced by those incredible shoes with deceptive ease as she kicked hers off and stepped into the magnificent footwear.

“Watch closely,” she said playfully rising gracefully from the bench. I sat stunned as she balanced on one foot while bending forward, keeping her other leg extended straight behind her.

“You get used to them.” Her leg snapped down with a sharp, loud clack against the floorboards, while her other leg rose in front as she arched back before pitching forward into a perfect split. The shock on my face must have been priceless. “No, silly! I don’t want you doing splits!” she declared, eyes sparkling as she gracefully righted herself and returned to my side. She offered a hand, which I took.

Madam is quite strong; she yanked me back up to my feet. My eyes were wide as I wobbled on that precarious perch. “Relax, my Barbie Doll, just copy what I do. You’ll see—you’ll get the hang of it.” The next hour was devoted to practicing walking in those boots, and thankfully, no ballet moves required. Walking alone was difficult enough.

Then came the bondage. The collar returned, slightly tighter this time, along with the monoglove securely fastened to my body. She fitted a ball gag on me, complete with a full head harness. I remained standing as she attached the leash to my collar again. Half-expecting another wild ride in bed, instead she led me into the study and then out through the corridor beyond. My heart pounded as we moved—bound and exposed—through the house. Part of it was fear of being spotted in such a predicament; part was sheer terror that I might topple over with every step. I whimpered pitifully behind my gag, desperate for this insanity to end. Seeing me helplessly terrified seemed only to encourage Madam further.

We returned thankfully to the bedroom, where she laid me on the bed. But rather than turning into a raging sex beast, she bound my legs tightly together. I squirmed in bonds and whimpered, but she hushed me: “Be quiet, my darling Barbie Doll. Just enjoy it, savor it. You need to get used to this. Do it for me. Do it to… please me.” She knew exactly how to handle me, and it worked. I decided to stop resisting, squirming as sensually as possible. She undressed but kept her ballet boots on, lying down beside me while holding me close. I smelled her perfume mixed with a hint of musk, listening to her breathe.

Act II - Maid to serve The next morning, I was still tightly bound in the restraints Madam had lovingly applied. Sore and tired, I slept fitfully at times, always fighting my bonds even in dreams. Madam entered the bedroom wearing an outfit—a doll-like maid’s uniform. “Today you will help me entertain some guests, my lovely Barbie Doll. That is why I taught you to walk in ballet heels. And now I shall dress you up!” Before removing my restraints, she leaned close and said, “Behave yourself, little girl. Please me…” I couldn’t get over how those two words, delivered in that eerie, sensual tone, could completely take over my will.

Now unbound but still gagged and wearing ballet heels, Madam attended to my state, skillfully massaging the knots from my sore muscles. Her delicate hands possessed amazing strength and agility. Just as I thought I had her figured out, she pulled another trick from her deep hat.

She removed the ballet boots and set them aside. I painfully moved my ankle to work out the stiffness, but Madam accelerated the process with her wonderful touch. She took off my stockings and replaced them with fishnets featuring a seam down the back, swapping my garter for a frillier, lacy black one. Inside, I felt myself stiffen in my fake cunt as she removed my bra and put on another—lacy and frilly, clearly part of the same set. To keep up my spirits, she gently kissed the back of my neck, her tongue just touching before pulling away.

Madam fitted a lighter collar onto me, yet it was just as stiff and tight as the previous one—a black lacy piece with a ring in front for a leash. This version had a metal plate inside the front that prevented me from looking down. The maid’s uniform fit tightly, so Madam tightened my corset by half an inch to compensate. Before putting on the dress, she produced a bulky, frilly petticoat covering only mid-thigh. The uniform went on finally, and with the petticoat making the skirt puff out, my netted legs projected from a mass of black tulle that held up the tutu-like skirt. That puffy tulle was also the sole thing concealing my privates because Madam had removed my panty. Then she pinned an apron to the dress—a symbolic affair that looked cute but served no other function. Madam put the ballet boots back on and laced them very tight. She stood me up and led me to a full-length mirror. “Now aren’t you just adorable, Barbie?” I couldn’t nod, and with the gag, I couldn’t speak. I simply went “Mmmm-hmmmm”. Madam laughed softly. “You’ll be the darling of the party, lovely little creature! I’d jump on you right now, but I don’t want you mussed up in front of the guests.” Her sensual teasing was getting me annoyingly aroused. “Now come along, Party Maid Barbie. I need to have you trained for your job tonight.”

Trained I was. Templeton acted more like a taskmistress when it came to enforcing orders. I remained gagged, and a hobbling chain added to my ankles increased the difficulty of performing tasks. Serving drinks on a tray was one such task. I learned to keep the tray level while balancing on ballet heels with tiny steps—not that longer strides were possible in these shoes anyway. Whenever I didn’t meet expectations, Templeton gave a sharp yank on the leash, making me realize the stiff lacy collar also functioned as a choker. I was then placed back into a monoglove, and a tray strapped to my waist. I had to keep that level now, with added difficulty due to losing arm balance. By this time, I wondered what kind of party this would be and if I were more than just a pretty maidservant. The evening’s festivities began with dinner. I served aperitifs first, then helped serve food. I was the only one dressed like that; other maids wore regular uniforms, neither hobbled nor gagged. I received some unnerving looks from both male and female guests. Madam kept her distance as she did from all house staff, but I noticed she derived satisfaction from my predicament. A feeling of dread began to germinate inside me.

Templeton took me to the reception hall next to the dining room, finding her own satisfaction in pulling my leash hard enough to choke me slightly. The monoglove was strapped on and tightened severely, and my ankle chain locked onto a small ring in the floor center of the large room. The waist tray was secured, and Templeton sternly ordered me to stand still and be quiet no matter what; if I spilled one drink or overturned one glass, there would be hell to pay. The dread grew into apprehension. I closed my eyes momentarily and concentrated on calming myself. Walking in ballet heels was hard enough; standing still was infinitely more difficult. I tired by the minute. The guests finally filed in for the final part of the party. Other maids had placed glasses and bottles on my tray before leaving. Bound, gagged, exposed, and trapped in the middle of a room filled with strangers all staring at me—some not all at once but each in their own time—the worst was knowing some were out of sight behind me, unable to turn or move, just standing there quietly. Music started, and couples began dancing. Madam moved from group to group, talking to her guests.

“The time. She has been extraordinarily well-behaved so far.” The man was looking over my attributes, a hungry look on his face. His wife didn’t seem to mind his lecherous ogling. In fact, I could detect a faint grin on her face, a smug look that gave me the creeps. Then Madam did something completely unexpected. She raised my skirt, tulle petticoat and all, and exposed my fake cunt! My color must have drained completely, and I jerked, gasping in my gag. “Now, now.” Madam admonished. “You are here to serve my guests. Play along, my Barbie Doll.” The man broke into a wide grin, while his wife had a mocking, crooked smile on her lips. I wanted to die right there. Thankfully, they left. I was shaking from shame. Madam’s little skirt-raising stunt seemed to have sparked a trend. Several times, during the evening, someone either raised my skirt in front or behind, and I thought I could feel someone’s hand come up under me, from behind, on more than one occasion. I was totally humiliated. Every time someone passed near me, I braced myself for another humiliation, trying not to jerk away. At least the ones in front of me, I could see coming. The ones behind me were more adventurous and more likely to steal a feel. The maids came and went, refilling my tray, while I stood there, helpless, defenseless, humiliated, terrorized by the prospect of doing something wrong. Why was Madam doing this to me? The long ordeal finally ended around midnight, my feet sore, my knees hurting, my face wet with tears. When my chain was unlocked from the ring in the floor, I took one step and collapsed; my legs couldn’t take any more. Madam and Templeton caught me before I broke my face on the hardwood floor. I was taken straight to the Barbie Room and completely stripped by Madam and Templeton. My gag was left in place, as well as the collar. Act III - The Second Door Freed from the grip of the ballet boots, I could walk clumsily, as I was led back into Madam’s study. There was another closet-like door on another wall, and Madam opened it, let Templeton and I in, and closed it again after following us in. The light came on, and I was in a torture dungeon. My heart pounded hard, and I went pale. “Put her in the pillory, and leave her.” Madam ordered. Templeton acknowledged with a “Yes, Madam.”, as Madam went back out the door to her study. My head and wrists were put through the stocks, and locked in. Then my ankles and feet were cuffed to a spreader bar, exposing a maximum of flesh. The bar itself was chained to the floor beneath me. Templeton’s face softened a bit once I was trapped, and she whispered, “Your offense is minor, Barbie. I suggest you comply with everything Madam does to you.” She paused, looking over her shoulder apprehensively. “We have all been through here at least once. Don’t make Madam take you downstairs.” She rolled up her left sleeve, and the skin of her wrist had a long-healed scar around its circumference. She buttoned up her sleeve quickly and left before Madam could return. I supposed that the order to leave me was to be executed before Madam came back. It took twenty long, agonizing, shivering cold minutes before the door’s lock clicked and it opened. I heard the characteristic clicking of metal heel tips on the bare stone tile floor, then Madam appeared in front of me. Her boots had six-inch chromed, steel-tipped heels, went up nearly to her crotch. She was wearing a short leather skirt, an incredibly tight leather corset, with integrated breast cups that were also tipped with chromed steel cones, long leather opera gloves, and over the corset, a complex and heavy harness that embraced her lovely form. I wished right there that the circumstances were different. “My darling Barbie Doll, you were told to play along. I asked you to please me. What did you do?” She paused, almost as if she expected an answer from my gagged mouth. In any case, I had stopped falling for that psychological game that tried to get me to self-incriminate. I kept my eyes down, hoping that it would keep Madam from being more displeased. Madam spoke in an admonishing tone. “I watched you the whole evening. Remember what you are supposed to be, outside of work hours. You are mine to do with as I please, and you must please yourself in doing what I wish you to do. If I wish to bind you and shackle you and use you as a serving tray, then you shall do so and you will like it. You are mine, Barbie Doll, you agreed to it. After all I have done for you, you have displeased me.” That last sentence was pronounced with cold deliberation. “Look up at me, slave!” she said sharply. I obeyed. She went to the far wall, where an array of various implements of pain were displayed very prominently, obviously for psychological effect. “Now, what will I use to punish you?” she asked, teasingly. “Maybe this?” she pointed at a large bullwhip. My eyes went wide. “Or this…”, a riding crop. “How about this lovely one?” she asked, stroking the handle of a real, authentic cat o’ nine tails, complete with barbs. She must have read my expression. “Yes! That’s the one!” Madam took it off its display rack, and swung it tentatively a few times in the air. “I like its balance. Very good workmanship. Delightfully vicious, too. It will tear flesh right off of you.” She seemed excited by the prospect of horribly mutilating me. My heart was pounding hard and fast, my skin cold and sweaty, and I was shaking in sheer terror as Madam went out of sight behind me. I braced myself for the ripping fire of my skin and muscle being torn to shreds by this cruel instrument of barbarity. I jerked violently, shaking the pillory, as I felt a scratching caress on my buttocks, then I lost my bladder control, peeing on the floor beneath me. Madam laughed softly, “You’re going to have to clean that up, my Barbie Doll. When I’m finished with you.” I screamed in my gag, “No! Please! I’m sorry!”, futilely trying to pull, shake and jerk myself out of the stocks, all the while Madam was tormenting me with the barbs of the cat o’ nine tails, running the leather strips lightly over my back, buttocks and legs. I felt the barbs lightly scratching my skin. I prayed that this game of fear would end, that I would have some real pain to deal with. At that point, anything would have been more tolerable than this trapped uncertainty. Tears ran down my face as I begged for mercy. Madam came around in front of me, spinning her barbed weapon, “I would say you have had enough terror for now. I don’t want to mangle you, my Barbie Doll, because you are very good at pleasing me in more ways than just your obedience. You still deserve punishment, but I will limit it since you obviously regret having misbehaved, and I have to admit that I didn’t warn you about your role tonight. But, you still have to learn to submit to everything I desire and decide, whether you are advised in advance or not.” She went to the display, and replaced the cat o’ nine tails on its rack, and took the riding crop. “This is enough.” She went behind me again, and said, gently, “Brace yourself, Barbie Doll.” I gasped and jerked hard as the first strike came. Then another. Ten times, the crop hit my butt. It wasn’t too bad to start, but I felt my backside becoming progressively inflamed as Madam began removing the stocks and freeing me from the pillory. She handcuff ed me, and said, “I will take your gag off, now. I don’t want to hear a word other than ‘Yes, Madam’. Understood, Barbie Doll?” I nodded nervously. She took off the gag, and I worked my jaw back into alignment. “Now get down on the floor and drink up what you spilled.” Fearing more punishment, or a worse one, I said, meekly, “Yes, Madam.” and got down. “Good girl. Now start sucking.” This was the first time I drank urine. The first lap was utterly disgusting, but as I drank it, I got used to it. Madam left and returned with some cleaning items, removed my handcuffs, and ordered me to clean the area up so it wouldn’t sm

It felt like a public toilet. Madam escorted me back to the Barbie Room, lacing my corset tight and securing it with a padlock through the eyelets at the rear so I couldn’t take it off. “Now, Barbie Doll, you must be perfectly obedient, totally submissive, completely under my control, never displeasing me again. You belong entirely to me by contract. This same agreement binds me to care for you and train you to respect and obey me, shaping you into a living Barbie Doll for my amusement. It is my duty to take whatever steps are needed so that you fulfill your side of the deal. Do not make me waste time, or there will be far worse punishments waiting than just scaring the pee out of you. Is that understood?” I bowed my head and replied as submissively as I could manage, “Yes, Madam.”

“That’s better. Now put on a nightgown and get some sleep.” Madam left me in my bedroom. I heard her steel heels clicking away in the distance until they faded. Following Madam’s orders, I donned a nightgown, fearing her wrath, and collapsed onto my frilly bed with its pink blanket, crying fitfully. Part of me wanted nothing more than to please Madam; the other part longed to end this humiliation, this torment, this game of wits.

But to avoid the worst fate—to be “taken downstairs,” as Templeton had mentioned—I needed to wait a bit before making my next move. I had to earn Madam’s trust once more, though I didn’t know how long that would take. The burning pain in my backside kept me from sleeping properly.

A single thought formed in my mind: I had to get out of here while I still could. End of Part 2