The Prankster Ch. 01

-*-

Three hours later, John and Angela sat down in their kitchen. Angela turned on the kettle to make a brew.

The journey home had been made in silence. Both were lost in thought. Angela at the prospect of being turned into a rubber gimp. John at the myriad opportunities to expand this prank now that Ange had fallen for the premise.

On the ride back he'd complimented her hair, he really liked the new style. In fact, the pair had talked about anything but the hospital, Professor Boult, nurse Vicky or what was about to happen.

"I'm going to call work," declared Angela, pulling out her phone.

"Okay," responded John casting a sly glance up at the new spy camera on the top kitchen shelf.

"Sue, it's Angela, could you put me through to Mike, please?... Mike, I've just got out of the hospital... Pretty bad news I'm afraid," Angela choked, holding back tears.

"I've got this photosensitive bug, one of these new ones that are resistant to antibiotics... I've got to stay home Mike... I don't think I'm going to be able to, I'm so sorry. The treatment is going to stop me from being able to talk. It's really good of you to offer though... Well if it's untreated it's pretty disfiguring... Yes, I'm afraid so... The doctor said about six months, perhaps a year...Oh, Mike that is so good of you, thank you... Um, John will be looking after me... You are more than welcome of course, but could you check with John first? I just don't know if I'm going to be presentable for visitors all the time... Um, the treatment is pretty rigorous, and I'd hate for any of you guys to catch it... Oh, little chance of that, the doctors found it early due to a screening program at the hospital, and I'm only infectious if I develop pustules... Oh, okay, I'll get John to bring in the stuff I have here and keep you updated. Bye."

Angela put her phone away and turned back to making tea.

"Well, that's me on sabbatical," she announced. "Mike will pay me in full to the end of the month, and then hold my position until I'm fit to return."

"That's fair of him," offered John.

"I know, it's just... Damn, I just like my job, I don't want to stay at home all this time. Plus, that's our income cut by a third."

"Babe, staying at home can't be helped. I'm sorry about that. But I earn enough to keep us comfortable. I've always said you don't need to work."

"John, love, you know I don't like to freeload, and I'm not the housewife type either."

"I know, but you won't be freeloading anyway. You'll be just stuck indoors dressed funny. That doesn't mean you can't do stuff. Babe, we've both been out of work before. We agreed that if only one of us works, the one at home cleans and cooks. But that leaves time to do other stuff. Have you thought of running an Internet business? You could sell something online!"

"Oh sure, that'll titillate the postman when he delivers my stock," mocked Angela. "That or send him screaming."

"We'll work something out, babe. Try not to be too down. I know it looks grim, but there's bound to be a silver lining if we look for it." John gave Angela a hug and kiss on the cheek. "So what time are we expecting this nurse then, pet?"

"Oh, not for two or three hours yet."

"Hungry?"

"I am, but the nurse said not to eat. I'm going on a special low-volume diet, apparently. Something to do with having a balloon up my arse for the next year or so."

"Oh, sorry... Netflix?"

"Yeah, a movie may take my mind off things for a bit."

-*-

Three and a half hours later, the doorbell rang. Angela nearly jumped with fright. It was happening.

Opening the door, she found it was indeed Nurse Vicky. Though the woman had undergone quite a transformation since Angela had met her at the hospital. Her hair was no longer pinned up but hung down past her shoulders, the cut screamed femme fatale, as did her clothes. Vicky was wearing a stunningly glossy, black PVC (or was it latex) trench coat. Her legs were sheathed in a pair of boots that nearly out-glossed the coat and were so tall as to disappear under its hem. Angela's eyes nearly bugged out at the sight of her.

Vicky instantly caught on. "The outfit? Sorry, I said I'd come out of uniform, and as I came straight from the fetish shop... I find if I dress like a dominatrix, I can intimidate the staff and get better prices."

"Oh... Please come in," was all Angela could manage. She was disconcerted by how much Vicky's outfit was affecting her. The woman looked amazing.

Vicky stepped in and continued, "...plus, this way, once you're dressed in latex too, you'll not be the only one in fetish gear. So, hopefully, you'll not feel so self-conscious." Changing the subject, she added, "You've a lovely home here, Angela, I can't wait to see more."

At this point, John joined the two women.

"Wow! You look stunning, Vicky. If Ange is going to look similar, perhaps it is a blessing she has fallen ill. So where's all the stuff then?"

"In the boot of my car, dear," replied Vicky holding up a set of car keys. "Be a poppet and fetch it in, please. The large box to the spare room you mentioned. The bags to your bedroom. Angela dear, could I trouble you for a cup of tea?"

The two women retired to the kitchen, while in the background, Angela could hear John fetching in the stuff Vicky had brought.

Angela started making tea, desperately trying to hide the unexplained feeling of lust she was experiencing, and asked, "Did you have any trouble finding us?

"No, John's instructions were quite clear, but you certainly are out in the sticks here."

"Yeah, our nearest neighbours are a mile away. Which is probably just as well when John plays his guitar."

"Is he not very good?"

"Actually, he's not that bad. But he's really into his heavy metal, so it's all power chords cranked up at full volume."

"Oh dear, so I guess it is good your neighbours aren't close. So is your home a barn conversion?"

"Sort of... It's actually a new build on the site of an old cow shed, but it's been made to look like a barn conversion to get planning permission."

"Well, it's beautiful. You must be very proud. It's certainly much nicer than my flat in town."

"Thank you. Mostly John's money bought it. He works in the city, in banking. One of the many suits commuting in by train each morning."

"I see, talking of John, do you want him there the first time we dress you."

"Oh, I assumed he would have to be, so he could help me when you are no longer here."

"I will train him, but I'm going to be a daily presence for the next week at least. We can show him what to do once it's become routine for you if you like."

"Yes then, that would be much better."

At that point, John entered the kitchen.

"Everything's in," he declared, handing the keys back to Vicky.

"Thank you, John. Do you think you could be an angel for me, and assemble Angela's new bed? There'll be instructions in the box."

"Sure," he replied and promptly left to do as he was bid. Vicky turned to Angela and grinned.

"Well, my dear, while your partner is busy with that, let us get you transformed into a vision of latex beauty."

A short while later, Angela found herself nude in her bedroom with a latex-clad dominatrix. Vicky had removed her rubber coat, to reveal a little black latex dress that was so short it barely covered her bum or her modesty from the front. It was cinched at the waist by an underbust corset. The neckline of the dress plunged at the front to display an impressive cleavage.

Angela was getting pretty flustered at all this and was really not sure where to look. Adding to her emotional confusion was the array of latex paraphernalia now displayed in a row on her bed. Items she was about to put on. Or have inserted into her.

As she looked on at the rubber equipment and clothing in alarm, Vicky interrupted her reverie.

"Angela? Planet Earth to Angela. You in for callers, dear?"

"Oh, sorry, Vicky. Away with the fairies there for a bit."

"Hmm, yes. Perhaps it's time for a reality check."

"Sorry?"

"Okay, Angela, when you got up this morning, there was no way on earth you could have known how today was going to turn out. The Professor's diagnosis must have come as a shock. As must the prescribed treatment."

"That's a wee bit of an understatement, Vicky."

"Further, even as Sally was delivering the bad news, you could not have envisioned that it would mean you would find yourself in your present situation."

"You mean naked in my bedroom, with a stunningly sexy dominatrix? Who is about to dress me in fetish gear."

"Well, thank you for the compliment. In fact, let's address that elephant in the room, shall we? I am your nurse. We are doing this to prevent you from becoming disfigured by a bacterium you have contracted. However, you are clearly finding all of this arousing. That is a normal physiological response."

"I'm that obvious?"

"Girl, later on, I've got to insert an inflatable device into your vagina. Wanna take a bet on whether I'll need any lube?"

"Erm, no," Angela blushed.

"So, getting back to the subject, we are doing this because we have to for your health. But it's turning you on. As I said; that is normal. I'll be frank, it turns me on too. I came dressed like this for three reasons. First, it made life easier at the shop. Secondly, I'm hoping you'll feel less self-conscious later, and finally, because I enjoy dressing this way."

"The point of this speech?" Inquired Angela.

"To say relax and enjoy this. Don't put up a front. Be honest about how this is making you feel. But also to say, there is no pressure if you want to adopt a role or alter the status quo between us, I am comfortable with that."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You just described me as a dominatrix. I'm actually your nurse, but if it'll make it easier for you to get through this challenging process, I can be a dominatrix. Or not, as I said; no pressure."

"Oh, my God. Erm, I'm not sure I could be that brave."

"Angela, it's not a question of being brave. Just be you. This stuff is obviously stirring up a whole heap of previously unexplored emotions. If, later on, you start feeling that you want to 'be' submissive, or feel you want to be dominated or pushed, just address me as Mistress. If it gets too much, call me Vicky. I can change gears pretty easily."

"Roleplaying?"

"Whether you like it or not, you have to do this. You can go with the 'Self consciously don's latex gear and endures confinement to avoid breakout of disfiguring disease. Or, if you want, we could play at 'Mistress dresses her slave in fetish gear to seal her into her submission? The latter is less ominous, and could be more fun."

"Okay, umm, well thank you for the offer. I don't think I'm ready to go there yet. Perhaps with John later... I don't know."

"Angela, I'm not trying to embarrass you or seduce you. I'm just saying you don't need to feel shy about how this stuff makes you feel. It was made for sex, even if we are repurposing it here for more serious means. So it follows it may make you feel sexy, that's all."

"Okay, but why don't we start off by you explaining what all this stuff on the bed is and what it is for?"

"A good idea," beamed Vicky. She turned from Angela and bent down to pick up a collection of rubber tubes. As she did, Angela was presented with a clear view of the nurse's sex as the latex dress rose up. Each outer lip was pierced with five silver rings. The view startled Angela, but then caused yet another flush of heat between her legs as she imagined herself being set with such jewellery.

"So this," said an oblivious Vicky, "is an enema kit. I'm afraid we are going to have to ensure you are empty and clean back there."

"Oh," squeaked Angela as Vicky turned and, flashing her vulva once again, rose holding up a wealth of black latex.

"This is your catsuit. It's a neck entry item, so there will be no zip under the corset." Angela stepped forward to feel the supple rubber. But also, so next time Vicky bent over, she would not be behind her.

"It's so soft," commented Angela.

"Your new skin for the foreseeable, I'm afraid, but I'm sure you are going to look stunning." With Angela standing next to her, Vicky simply pointed at the rest of the gear.

"That's your hood. It has built-in heavy-tint lenses. Your vision will be impaired for about twenty minutes after putting it on, I'm afraid. Next to it is the inflatable gag. That is the vaginal insert, that is the anal plug. That is your corset. That's a very clever item and one of the things you will need help putting on and removing."

Vicky then lifted the lid on a large cardboard shoe box. Flicking back the tissue within, she extracted a patent leather stiletto-heeled boot. It laced at the front and looked long enough to cover the calf up to just below the knee. A flap of patent leather covered the lacing at the top and was secured by a small padlock.

"These beauties are why there are a pair of crutches on the bed too. I doubt you'll be able to walk in them at first."

"Christ! They'll hold me at en pointe all the time!"

"Yeah, they're called ballet boots. I would never introduce a novice submissive to these bad boys normally. However, as the professor said, we need to keep your foot and lower leg under compression for the duration. The only other alternative is to put your lower legs in air casts. That would be equally hard to walk in, more cumbersome, and cause more muscle atrophy in the long term."

"I see," murmured Angela.

"Yeah, as I said, you'll need to learn how to walk in these. But I can assure you it's quite possible. In fact, some latex models earn a living just by posting videos online of them walking in boots like these."

"Nothing on the web surprises me these days."

"I agree, however, after wearing these boots for months you may need some physiotherapy afterwards to enable you to wear ordinary shoes."

"Okay... Umm, I may not be as much of a cripple in them as you've assumed."

"Really?"

"I used to do ballet. I've been classically trained. My en pointe work was pretty good."

"Well, that's fantastic. I've got to admit I was expecting tears and tantrums over these."

"Hey, I'm still pretty aghast at the idea of being at en pointe for months."

"As I would be. As I said earlier today, most fetishists only play dress up for the weekend at most."

"So what's in the bag at the end?"

"Ah, there are a few toys and props should you feel the need to call me Mistress."

"Can I see, or do I have to submit to look inside?"

"Of course, you can see." Vicky extracted some black leather items. "So this is a slave collar, some leather manacles. This is a ball gag, and rope is always useful. A cat o nine tails and a riding crop. This is a leash, and this is a spreader bar."

"A spreader bar?"

"Should I decide that my slave should keep her legs spread, my dear," answered Vicky archly.

"Oh!.. and if I called you 'Mistress' you would beat me with those?" Angela pointed at the whips.

"No. If you were to submit, I would lock the collar and cuffs on. I would give you orders and expect you to obey. If you were disobedient... well, then you may come to feel my discipline."

"Oh, my fuckin' God!... Fuck!... Christ, you make it sound so hot. Vicky, you've got me so damn worked up and John's just down the hall. I can't betray him no matter how turned on you get me."

"My dear girl, I have absolutely no intention of fucking you. If you end up collared, I'll hand the leash on to your man. I'm merely suggesting we acknowledge this stuff makes you horny and add some fun to what may otherwise be onerous proceedings."

Angela stared hard at the woman before her. Right now, she wanted to fuck the woman's brains out. Not since getting together with John had she ever felt like this about another. Add to that, the idea of becoming her sexual plaything was driving her crazy. Should she give in to her desires? She was getting dressed in this rubber stuff either way. If she relinquished control, she could hardly be held accountable for what came after...

"In that case, Mistress, what must I do next?"

"Are you sure, girl?"

"Yes, Mistress, I'm yours."

"Then kneel, girl. Get down on your knees in the presence of your Mistress." Angela dropped to her knees, a huge grin on her face.

"Yes, Mistress." Secretly she hoped John would invite Vicky to stay the night. Once, early in their relationship, he had half-jokingly hinted he'd like to try a ménage à trois. Then she slapped him down. Now, with this woman, she was prepared to reconsider.

Vicky had picked up the crop and turned to face the kneeling Angela. Using the crop to indicate the offending body part, she started adjusting Angela's posture.

"Back straight, girl, don't slouch... Cross your wrists behind you... that's right, now hold them to the small of your back... Good girl, now spread those knees... Wider, your body is mine now, not yours, you'll not hide it from me. Now chin up... That's it, but look down, you are a slave now and will keep your gaze on the ground unless commanded to look elsewhere. In the future, if I command you to kneel, you will assume exactly this position. Do you understand, slave?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Excellent. So the ground rules. You will obey me in all things, or I will punish you. That is not an idle threat. I have a sadistic streak and thoroughly enjoy whipping naughty girls like you. It turns me on, so be careful you don't give me an excuse."

"Yes, Mistress, I understand."

"Good, from now on you will address me, as you have been doing, as Mistress. If you have to refer to me to a third party, you will use my title and first name; Mistress Victoria. You will call John, Master, and refer to him as either 'my Master' or 'my owner.' His name is forbidden to your lips. The only exception to this is if someone asks you specifically what your Master's name is."

"I understand, Mistress."

"You will address all other men you may meet in future as Sir, all other women as Ma'am. The only exception to that is holders of professional titles. So you will be calling Sally Boult 'Professor'. Now enough talking, let's get on with things."

Mistress Victoria picked up the collar from the bed and squatted down behind Angela. Angela felt the fetter being passed around her neck. Mistress Victoria fastened it around her throat tightly. Angela briefly considered asking her to loosen it slightly but decided against it. Mistress had seemed very keen to use the crop. Suddenly there was a click from behind her. It had been locked in place? Oh, God, this was so fucking hot.

Rapidly each of the leather cuffs was locked in place on each of her limbs, and then Angela felt the soft rope behind her too. First, her wrists were bound together and then drawn up her back as high as was comfortable, before being joined to her collar. Her elbows were then attached and drawn towards each other, forcing her to pull her shoulders back even more.

Then Angela felt the hard surface of the ball gag at her lips. Dutifully Angela opened her mouth, and her Mistress drew the ball deep into her mouth, behind her teeth, before fastening the strap tight at the back of her neck.

It suddenly dawned on Angela that she could no longer utter her safe word of, "Vicky." That Mistress would not stop now. That she was truly helpless and at her captors' mercy. With that realisation came new flames of lust. How had she gone so long through life without discovering this?

Angela's Mistress came around and knelt in front of her slave. Her knees were between the widely spread knees of her captive. Her face leered in close to the gagged girl under her thrall.

"I am so glad you made this decision, slave. I have been aching to collar you since I laid eyes on you. You are beautiful, and I so wish that you were mine and mine alone. However, you belong to another, and I shall respect that. But if you trust in me and hold the course, I shall use the time we do have together to train you to be the most wonderful slave girl and your owner the most envied person in the lifestyle." Victoria lent in and placed a passionate kiss on her slave's gagged mouth.