© Copyright 2010 - S M Ackerman - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/f; machine/f; transform; mannequin; display; packaged; cons; X
S M Ackerman is the diarist for (The Diary of Miss Whippy Cane) she is a professional dominatrix and the owner of an established house that caters for the fetishistic desires of selected clients, all names have been altered for her clients privacy. The story is available from both Pegusus Publishers and Amazon. This tale is not included in, or an exert from, the above diary and is made available free of charge to all genuine readers over the age of 18 in the UK or as is applicable else where please. Enjoy if you will. S.M.
Living Tech Ltd.
Another weekend, another Saturday of listening to people as they touch, feel, squeeze or generally abuse the material of my clothes, and me of course! The problem as I see it is, where the people at Living Tech have placed me! All I can do is watch straight ahead and suffer the ignominy of being touched up by passing strangers; believe it or not it happens quite frequently!
Then there is always someone that wants to lift my skirt, or grope my breasts, just to see how real they feel! All they get for the trouble is plastic. All I get are bruises that don’t show, and a deep seated feeling of humiliation. Not, I might point out, that I am opposed to feeling humiliation, but after a few weeks of it, even the pleasures of submission can wear a little thin, and it has been nearer to six months, than a few weeks! I still have another six months on trial to go, according to the contract I signed with Living Tech Ltd.
If I had know then what I know now, I would have run screaming from their factory, but I didn’t know, or run screaming! In fact I signed up for a year and that is when my life changed completely.
The advert said something like:
‘A great opportunity for relaxation, time to think and good money. Take a year off work! Enjoy a year fully funded with no bills to pay! All at the expense of Living Tech Ltd. INTERESTED ? CALL *********.
It sounded to good to be true to a young woman of twenty-two, one who is up to her neck in ‘University Debts’, and having obtained her degree, now has no job to go to, so no income! The money Living Tech is offering will clear my debts completely, and at no cost to me for a whole year, how can anyone be not interested? I applied on line, and three days later I was sent an interview.
From the outside Living Tech looks quite impressive, it is a large modern warehouse complex, with offices centrally located. I approach the main entrance as the gate guard indicated, once I had shown him my invite to attend for an interview. He looked at me a little strange as I showed him it but he said nothing, he just pointed to the far door! I should have sensed something right then, but I didn’t.
I was greeted by a stern faced receptionist with the phrase, ‘sit over there please’, I sat, seemingly for ages. Eventually a Miss ‘something or other’ arrived, and after a brief ‘hello’ she led me through the rear door into a corridor, and on into a plush office.
Not that I normally look at girls bottoms as I follow them, but this one I just could not help doing so! Her ass is tight and rolled nicely with every step she takes, the black three quarter length skirt fits where it touches to both her hips and thighs. Her waist looks as though it is pulled in by a corset, really Wilma Flintstone! Her heels flash red from the soles, telling me or any woman that they are expensive and designer. The black patent shines and reflects the overhead concealed fluorescent lighting. All in all she has got to be referred to as hot by anyone with a pulse, and possibly a few that don’t have one!
Miss hot (I can’t remember her name), offered me a drink which I accepted, it is some sort of scented tea I think. Then that is followed by ten min’s of bullshit (get on with it), and then the contract thankfully. I hardly glance at it (there is a lesson in there girls), before I sign on the dotted line. From there I am asked to stand up and once I do she shines a light, a rose coloured light, into my eyes, and my muscles paralyse! My arms drop to my sides, my legs locked up tight and my head will not turn. Paralysed as I said, totally!
She presses a button beneath her desk and then approaches me.
“Do not worry it is a simple neurotoxin, ingested by you with your drink! You will be taken from here for preparation as clearly stated, and in detail, under clauses six through to twenty. From there your employment will commence, and in a year you will have completed the first of three possible assignments, and have provided us with a wide range of marketable data. I hope you enjoy your time with Living Tech, Miss Finnegan. We look forward to your service and to analysing your input on the process. Goodbye, we will not see each other again!”
Then she left me standing statue like in her office.
Being tilted forward and feeling something slipped between the soles of your shoes and the floor, then being pulled back by your shoulders, and feeling yourself tilted back at the same time is not pleasant! I am on a hand barrow; whoever is controlling it spins me around, and pushes me out of the office, before turning me again, and then pulling me backwards. Half tilted back, locked ridged, along the corridor. All I can see is the ceiling and its lights, as I am taken away for processing.
The first stage of processing me is to cut my clothes off of my body, all of them, not a stitch left for modesty! Not that I have too much of that, normally I am something of an exhibitionist, well on occasion!
Next I am placed inside of a steel tube and a blindfold is fitted over my eyes, for protection I presume. The temperature begins to rise, and I started to sweat! All in all it is not a nice, or a comfortable experience! You might be wondering how come I seem so calm? I know I am, but no matter how much I try to build up some fear, all I get is calm, something, I believe, to do with the neurotoxin they gave me. A sort of Valium but much more effective, as six months later it is still working on me!
Hot air is blown over my naked sweaty torso, and then the tube rotates. This is the point that my heart beat increases a bit, probably four or five beats per min, but with the toxin working effectively, that is quite a lot. I fall forward into a vat of some rather murky, a sort of milky white liquid and I sink to the bottom of the tank.
I should be drowning I believe, why aren’t I? I am not breathing now, nor can I feel bubbles escaping from me, or any other reaction to my immersion, except the slight rise of my heart rate. I lie paralysed for ages, but how long ages is, I can’t say, but it is a long time I am certain, before I am scooped out of the liquid vat and placed on a conveyer belt to be carried high in the air, all around the factory.
At various points something is sprayed onto me, and then I move again! It went on like this for ages as well, but eventually I stop and am lowered by automated grips, to the floor. My blindfold drops from my face, I think the last process has caused it to rot, and now I can see again.
I am one of many, women, each of us is standing in a half circle; as though about to have a chat! All of us are frozen at attention, and with a sheen of white coating our naked bodies.
Sometime later I am packaged up, crated securely and shipped in a wooden box and that is it, that is how I got to be a mannequin in a Super- store! Displaying clothes for all to see and touch. This is my tale of woe, and I tell it as a warning! So read the bloody contract before you sign it, or you to might end up being some stores display doll…
A thoughtful post script.
Only six more months left for me I hope! If she told me the truth! Now what was it she said about ‘one of three’, something’s! I should have listened as well as read the contract, I won’t make that mistake again, I can assure you!