Chapter Four: Scold's Locksmiths ================================ :Author: Gospodin .. meta:: :shs-title: The Enslavement of Marie :shs-author: Gospodin :shs-part: 4 :shs-keywords: f, latex, mc Waking early the next morning, Marie mused over her dreams the night before. The images and emotions seemed as real to her as they had been while she dreamt them. Stirring in her black satin sheets, she realized that she was hopelessly tangled. "Did I tuck myself in so tightly as this?" she mused, working her way out of the snug wrapping with great effort, "It's like a coccoon...and I guess that would make me a butterfly!" Marie finally worked her thighs out of the worst of it, and stood up, stretching before her closet mirror. "Oh no, a black butterfly..." Marie's heart quickened as she realized she still wore the black rubber underwear, and nothing else. "No wonder I was so tangled in it! I didn't even put on a nightgown! What is wrong with me lately?" Marie sighed and looked down at her dresser, forgetting her attire once again as she spotted the locksmith's card. Had Angelica really given it to her, or was that just part of the dream? Marie picked up the card and ran her hands over the fine calligraphy. Marie had never been to a locksmith before, as she always had her keys made at the hardware store. Feeling nervous and more than a little frightened about the whole thing, Marie picked up the phone to ask Angie if she knew anything about it. She dressed quickly while it rang, and was idly tying her blouse closed when Angelica's answering machine kicked in. She left a quick hello and hung up. "Well, I suppose I ought to just check out the place, and see if there are any answers." Marie sighed and threw on an overcoat, stepping out the door. In the subway station, Marie realized she was getting a lot of long stares. Looking down, she saw that she had not chosen her wardrobe very wisely. Beneath the open overcoat she wore her old red and green checkered school girl mini-skirt, which had been barely decent when her legs were still a few inches shorter. Stacked-heel mary-janes accented shiny black stockings that ended just at the hem of her skirt, and she could feel the garter belt's straps beneath the skirt as she instinctively covered her thighs with her hands. Finally, she saw that she had put on an old faded white blouse with gold buttons, which might have been all right if she hadn't popped off the top two buttons and tied the bottom ends into a knot above her pierced navel. She saw the glint of the silver ring in a window reflection, and that made her further aware of the black outline of her rubber brassiere. "Whore!" spat out a smartly-dressed old lady across the aisle. She had muttered it only faintly, but Marie caught her gaze long enough to realize that the old hag was sizing her up and down. "Miss Applebee!" Marie gasped, recognizing the governess and manners instructor from her old boarding school. She was a stickler for posture and presentation, and Marie noticed for the first time that her perfectly straight back looked to be the product of some very strict stays. The scowl on Applebee's face softened slightly as she squinted to make out the face on the exhibitionist tart she had just insulted. Marie saw her stop approaching, and huddled in her coat as she turned away from the old woman. Memories of posture exercises and figure training and dietary plans surfaced with a shudder. "Maria! What's become of you?" the question followed Marie out of the train just as the doors slammed shut. Marie felt her face burn, knowing her ears and cheeks were bright red. Flushed... like an orgasm, she thought. And yes, her loins were responding to the humiliation, making her begin to crave another orgasm. She turned quickly to look at the seat where Applebee sat, and saw only an old lady knitting yarn quietly in a rapidly departing train. Casting her eyes down, Marie tried to make sense of the vision as she walked to Merrywidow Lane. It was an old alleyway, built before trains and automobiles had entered the city. It still had cobblestones in the road, and many of the buildings facing it were made of brick and dirty stone. A single clover-leaf shaped key pointed the way down into the basement of building 7, leading to Scold's Locksmiths. Scold was old-fashioned as well, but in a different way from Miss Applebee. A bushy white moustache made a good effort to compensate for his balding head, and it hid the corners of his ironic smile. He was tall and had muscular arms with bare pits. He wore a dark green shirt, with a dark brown leather apron hanging over his chest and belly, reaching down to his knees. Marie shut the wooden-framed glass door, making a keychain hanging from its knob clink with an ominous steel sound. "Yes my dear, and how can I help you?" Scold asked, seemingly taking no notice of Marie's outfit. "Er... Yes, um, I was given this card, and..." "--ah yes, and you wish to collect your package. Of course, Marie. One moment, please." He reached into a bottom drawer and pulled out an elegant flat gift box, the sort that would hold a fine jeweled necklace. He set it on the countertop, and Marie realized that it had her name set into the lid in bronze. Marie balked. "You'll find that we personalize everything here, but rest assured that customer records are kept in the utmost confidence. Your tastes are exquisite, my dear, but we shall not disclose them to anyone." He ran his hand over the lid gently as he spoke, and when he finished he set his mouth in a knowing smile that did not falter. "Ah.. Er, have we met?" Marie was searching. She had come seeking answers, but more questions kept presenting themselves. "No madam, I assure you." Did he just say *madam* with a hint of sarcasm? "I received a photograph with this order so that I could be sure to deliver to the correct customer. I must say you make a fine model, Marie. Your clothing was daring, yet exhillarating, and your pose was something I'd wager you'll never see most supermodels try!" Marie swallowed. She saw in his eyes that he meant it. She tried to think of when she ever posed for a sexy photo, or how her image could have reached this gentle brute of a locksmith. "Who gave you this photo?" Marie tried to hide her fear in a tone of indignant anger. "My dear, as I have already explained, our customer records are kept in strict confidence. The order permitted me to let you know of the photo's existence, but all other information about it is kept locked in a safe that not even a master locksmith could open without the appropriate key. The only thing I will give you is this. Please, follow me." Mr. Scold led Marie into a back part of the shop, opening a heavy black velvet curtain and revealing a rack along one wall with a collection of silver, grey and black metal items. The function of most escaped Marie, but she was certain she recognized several pairs of handcuffs, and the chains were plain enough. Scold ushered her to a seat in front of a small magnifying mirror and set the box before her. "Now I want to explain this item to you before you try it on." Scold said as Marie's trembling fingers fumbled with the clasp. A wonderful rounded matte silver necklace lay on red velvet. The inside lined with black fur, less than half an inch high. It was forged out of two halves, hinged together at the front, the open ends hollow on the left and equpped with a pin on the right side. Marie tried the hinge between her hands and the pin slid smoothly into the hole with ease. She moved it in and out a few more times thinking of the last time she had had smooth sex and felt the rubber fingers against her clitoris as she squirmed on her stool. She held it to her throat, and was just about to bring the ends together when she felt Mr. Scold's heavy hand on the back of her neck. "Think carefully, my pretty girl, if you really want to do this. The pin from the clasp is made of a very special material, and it will swell when it approaches human body temperature. The other end of the clasp has a series of ringed crevices in the catch, which the pin will swell into. Your own warmth will seal it onto you, until it becomes cold again!" Marie shivered at the thought of her own chilly death unlocking the clasp, and tested the fit of the choker one half at a time. It fit perfectly, like it was made for her and her alone. She wondered at how Scold had aquired her measurements, especially given her unusually long and thin neck. She knew better than to ask, though, knowing she'd receive another lecture on customer privacy. "Also, I would draw your attention to the engraved letters on the front of the piece." Marie was spellbound by the collar, looking closely in the mirror. Letters? What letters? She felt around it, and thought she could feel an A over the hinge in the front center, but could only make it out if she looked closely. Marie sat bolt upright in bed again, moaning as she realized she was *still* wearing the black latex briefs and bra, the teasing rubber ticklers turning her moan into a slightly different variety. She gasped as she saw the collar sealed firmly about her graceful throat. She rushed to the mirror to get a look at her new permanent jewelry. Now, in the dim light, she could see the letters more clearly. Left of the A there were a S and an L, right of it followed an V and an E. ---- `Next Chapter <marie05.html>`__ .. include:: feedback.rst