The Barbie Clause 3 Copyright Bound Jenny

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Warning! This story might contain activities that might not be suitable in selfbondage. Please play safe.

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Story ideas by Rebecca.
Written by Bound Jenny.

 

Here is the third and final part of Barbie's ordeal at the hands of the evil yet delectable Madam.

 

Jenny.

 

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Chapter 5 - Reconstruction

 

Act I - Identity crisis

 

I had a lot of time to think. It was Sunday, and Madam had left me alone today. I dressed and made myself up. If I was to regain Madam's confidence, to get into a position where I could have a chance at escape, I needed to shape up. I had to become the best damn Barbie Doll ever.

 

I put on my highest heels, boots with four and a half inch stilettos, and started looking around the room. I found no possible place to hide a camera, so I knew I wasn't being watched. Microphones, however, can be hidden inside anything and didn't need any line of sight to be effective. This is when I found my cache, a hiding place for anything I would need to plan and effect my escape, and to record my story in writing. I would take that and go to the police, and expose Madam and get my life back. Sure, it wasn't much of one, but it was mine.

 

I chanced the door to my room, and it was unlocked. I checked myself before leaving the confines of my bedroom. I walked casually down the corridor to the rear entrance, and left the house. I was now in the back yard of the estate.

 

It was large, and had walkways through a meticulously maintained garden. The estate was surrounded by an eight-foot high stone wall surmounted with a two-foot high ironwork barrier. I looked around, and tried to reach the top of the wall, in vain. I could touch it, but not grab hold. My walk around the premises dashed any hope of finding a convenient tree or other object that could help me climb over to freedom. The front gate was locked, as usual, and opened only on remote control, either from the house or via the button in Madam's car. I couldn't use a phone, because they all had security code lockouts, and each code limited the phone numbers that could be used.

 

On my way back in, I glimpsed something in a wastebasket. A couple of sheets of crumpled paper and a discarded pen. I quickly gathered up the precious materials and hid them inside my jacket's pockets. I then hurried to my room, entered, waited until my heart slowed a bit, my back pressed against the closed door, listening for any footsteps in the corridor or from the Barbie Room. I uncrumpled the paper, climbed on my bed, reached up, opened the grill to the air duct, and stashed my booty.

 

I quickly replaced the grill, and got off the bed, smoothing the covers. I went into the Barbie Room, and decided to change into a doll outfit, just to please Madam. I tightened my corset a little, and then I chose a lovely prom dress, including a petticoat and a nice corsage, and some formal gloves, and returned to touch up my makeup. I looked at myself in the mirror, and smiled, thinking, Madam, you're going to get your money's worth. Just wait.

 

Lunch was delivered to me in my room, by one of Templeton's underlings. She was youngish, maybe twenty. She still had an innocent air about her, so I figured she hadn't been in either the dungeon or what Templeton called, "downstairs". She didn't speak to me as I thanked her, but she curtsied gracefully before leaving. She was nervous, I could tell. Templeton may have warned her not to talk to me, probably to keep the girl out of trouble.

 

I ate lunch slowly, as far as my tight corset could allow me. If I ate too fast, I would suffer immensely as my belly would bloat slightly. I learned not to wolf down my food as I used to. Come to think of it, there were some pros to this situation. I lost weight, I felt better physically, and looked better, well, if I didn't count looking like a hot babe, as Jeff wanted to call me.

 

I spent the afternoon prancing around the grounds, acting exactly like Madam expected me to act when in doll guise, but my eyes and ears were wide open looking for potential escape methods. When I tired of this, I went to the library and sat down to read.

 

The next morning, I was back at work, for Madam. She was there, her usual businesslike self.

 

"Barbie, dear, I hope you don't resent me for what I had to do." I shook my head, and lied. "No, Madam. You had to punish me for my error. And you are right. I have to perform exactly as you expect me to, even if you don't warn me. I am your Barbie Doll, yours to do with as you please." Half of me wanted to barf, the other to burst my corset laughing. Only the residual burning on my butt motivated me to hold it back.

 

"That's nice, dear. I saw you yesterday," my heart stopped momentarily - did she notice my covert search for an escape route? "You were very pretty, and acting the part satisfactorily. That is what gave me some hope back." "Madam?" "That you would continue to be my Barbie Doll." her voice had a slight tremolo. For a second, I felt for her. "I will, Madam. I am bound-" she interrupted me, and took me by the shoulders. "Barbie, I don't want you to do it because you have to, but because you want to. Do you understand?" Her eyes drilled into me again, those dark, nearly black pools reflecting the light of the room. They were bright, not with excitement, but with tears! She was holding them back, trying to stay Madam, the strong, in-charge boss. Right in front of my eyes, that veneer was starting to crack.

 

"Please, Barbie..." she implored, her voice beginning to break. "I'm sorry..." I took her and hugged her, out of sympathy. I wanted out, but I still was decent enough to comfort someone in need, even if it was Madam. This was a new variable in the equation though. I would have to reevaluate the situation. Rubbing her back gently with one hand, holding her tightly with the other, I said, "Madam, I promise to be everything you expect me to be. I will do anything you want me to be. It's just that Saturday night, I was taken by surprise. I reacted by instinct. I'm very sorry if I displeased you. It wasn't intentional."

 

I could feel her trembling. This couldn't be an act! The whites of Madam's eyes were streaked with red. Was that why I didn't see her yesterday? Could it be that after making me lose my bladder in fear, tormenting me beyond belief, that a few hours of introspection would have made her realize that she did something horribly wrong? That in watching me looking for an escape, yesterday, she realized that she was driving her Barbie Doll away? My mind tried to make sense of it.

 

"Madam?" I asked, gently. "Yes, my dear?" "I... forgive you." Now it was Madam who hugged me tightly, stroking my hair gently, "Thank you...". She pulled away, and walked around her desk. "I... pulled some strings, to speed up the process. You're going to need this if you want to travel around the world with me. We will see things that you couldn't even imagine. Go shopping together in Paris... Rome... London... Tokyo..." She handed some items to me.

 

I examined the first one. A driver's licence, registered to Barbara Doll, with all my vitals, but with my transformed, feminized face on the picture, and Madam's address as the place of residence. A passport, for Barbara Doll, and it was no fake, just like the driver's licence. There were other documents there, everything I needed to be, officially, Barbie Doll. "Madam?" "Yes, Barbie?" "These are real, official? My old..." Madam smiled slightly, "Yes, all yours, real papers. You are now, officially, Barbie Doll." I remained thunderstruck as I raised my eyes up to look at Madam.

 

This considerably complicated my plans. As long as I could still revert to Greg, it was easy. I could ditch the wig, wipe off the makeup, remove the fake breasts and genitalia, slip on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and I was back in business. No more. To return to my former identity would require a lot of bureaucracy, in addition to the judicial procedures I had in mind to begin with. Though it would be easy to reverse the identity change by showing that I still had my male genital apparatus intact. I pondered my options, and decided not to throw a fit or anything. I kept my objective in mind, but opened more possibilities, including remaining here.

 

My mind raced to find something to say. An insight flashed, and I got down to my knees. "Thank you, Madam. May I ask one more thing of you?" Madam got down on her knees too. "Yes, my dear." she said, stroking my cheek gently. "Guide me, help me, work with me, show me how to be who is on these." I said, showing my new identity documents. "I will, Barbie darling. I will." I was buying time.

 

Act II - Gilded cage

 

Madam had kept her promise of guiding me in being a woman. I worked hard to please Madam, both professionally and as Barbie Doll. I was punctual, efficient, pleasant, obedient and patient. There were a few more parties like the first one, but this time I didn't take the humiliation to heart. I stood there and bore it. But the tender moments with Madam were wonderful, and the passionate ones... unforgettable.

 

Six months after committing myself to this life, the hormone treatments had begun to show results. My real breasts were now small A-cups, or large AA's. My breast forms were replaced with new ones compensating for the growth. My real nipples became a little sensitive, and the pressures of the forms caused some discomfort. Apparently, this was normal. After all, I was undergoing a sort of second puberty, this time as a girl, minus the period.

 

I was still not allowed to go outside, accompanied by Madam. Madam probably suspected that I would make a break for it, given the opportunity. I resolved to tough it out, wait, bide my time until the opportunity came. Trust is easy to lose, but very hard to rebuild.

 

Though I was virtually imprisoned within the walls of the estate, I was not wanting for anything. Madam lavished upon me every possible luxury a girl would want, clothes, shoes, jewelry, cosmetics, lingerie. I willingly, and playfully, submitted to her bondage games, which were constantly increasing in scale.

 

The six-month mark was celebrated in grand, Madamesque style. In my bedroom, we went through the usual ritual. I was dressed and bound, and had the best damn sex I could ever imagine with a woman. She could work magic with her body, casting her spells on mine and holding me in a state of constant, unending arousal for hours, until she finally mounted me and we came to a monumental climax, ending with her hair-raising roar of fulfillment. It wasn't over.

 

She bound me so strictly, in my armbinder, with straps, ropes, chains securing the rest of my body, that I couldn't move a quarter inch. I was gagged so effectively that I could barely squeak. I had never been so tightly tied up in my life. I found it alarming, and even after the torrid couple of hours I had just spent, I also found it unbearably arousing. I strained against the unyielding bonds as Madam ran her hands over me, gently brushing against any exposed skin with her fingernails, giving me goosebumps of pleasure. Then she stopped, and left the room.

 

I wondered if Madam was to leave me bound like this for the rest of the night, alone. That would be rather unpleasant. Then she pulled another surprise on me. She returned with some more bondage paraphernalia, and I half expected her to bind me even more tightly. My eyes opened wide when she plopped herself down on the bed beside me and started tying herself up!

 

Madam had some prepared coils of rope and a few other lengths of rope with small nooses at the end. She had a small contrivance made of a pair of rings through which she threaded the end of one of the noose-ended ropes. She started by binding her feet and ankles together, tightly, and tested the bonds by moving her legs slightly. It made a pleasant sound as the leather of her boots rubbed together.

 

Madam then tied her legs together, just above and just below the knee, with two separate lengths of rope, tightly again. Just the way she was tying herself was erotic in itself. Her breathing was deep and slightly shaking, as if the act of binding herself was part of some kind of sexual foreplay. Well, bondage for her was foreplay, as I had found out myself.

 

She attached two of the noose-ended ropes to her knee coil, solidly, making sure that the nooses ended up just about at breast level in her sitting position. The ring contraption was attached to her ankle restraint, the noose up behind her, with a small, prepared coil of rope threaded through the untightened noose.

 

She took a ball gag and strapped that tightly onto her head, locking the buckles with tiny padlocks. She took the key and tossed it onto the floor near the door to the Barbie Room. Now she couldn't tell me her plans even if she wanted to.

 

Madam donned a high posture collar, and locked it with another tiny padlock on the buckle. She attached a short leash to her collar, and then clipped the other end to my collar. We were now tethered to each other. The key to her collar went flying near the door too.

 

The next was a long coil of rope, and Madam put that on over her head and started to wriggle into it until it was tight around her shoulders. More wriggling, accompanied by jiggling breasts, got two loops under her boobs, and the remaining two above. She removed one arm from the coil, and took one of the nooses that was attached to her knee bond and slipped it over the arm coil's lower loops, before reinserting her arm into the coil again. She did the same with the other arm, then gently flopped onto her belly next to me. Her perfume mingled with her musky sex odor, and that got me well worked up.

 

Madam wriggled until the nooses under her armpits tightened, making her unable to move her arms more than an inch either way. She inserted her wrists into the coil behind her back, and then fumbled for the rope going to the ring device on her ankle coil, and pulled it until she was in a very tight hogtie. Then it dawned on me: she was as trapped as I was! She couldn't release me, and I couldn't release her. None of could call for help, or even crawl to get some. Falling off the bed was not an option, since one would drag the other down because of the tether, or at the very least strangle the other. Unless someone came to free us, we were trapped here forever, until death do us part. I started struggling, futilely, which encouraged Madam to do the same. The alarm on her face did nothing to help my morale.

 

I was powerless, totally trapped, unable to move the slightest, only able to watch as Madam struggled furiously against her self-imposed bonds. It was an eerie spectacle to watch a woman act as though she was tied up at the hands of another, screaming shrilly in her gag, trying vainly to escape her captivity as if her life depended on it.

 

After fifteen good minutes of this unnerving scene, she tired, her struggles growing less intense. I saw tears running from her eyes, which made the act so incredibly realistic. Madam was breathing hard, impeded by her strict gag. Our eyes locked, and I could see a spark in hers, something that showed that she immensely enjoyed her predicament. She wriggled sensually against her bonds now, and moaned softly as she explored the sensations of her bondage.

 

Her wriggling brought her closer, and now I could see that those movements were not random. Madam snuggled up to me, one bound beauty pressing against the other, until she rested her harnessed cheek against mine. I could now hear her slow breathing, feel her quick pulse, sense the warmth of her flesh against mine, smell her sweet-smelling sweat mingling with the other odors her heavenly body exuded. She fell asleep beside me, hogtied, gagged, serene. I listened to her, watched her, amazed, until I fell under the Sandman's spell too.

 

Muscle cramps woke me some time later, I had lost track of time, and was unable to see the clock from my position. Madam was still there, sleeping peacefully. I couldn't wake her up, because of my total immobility, and the gag that stifled every sound. After an interminable time, the door to my bedroom opened, and I heard the characteristic sounds of a maid's heels on the floor. I was expecting her to free Madam first, but to my great surprise, she started working at freeing me from my impossibly strict restraints.

 

I was finally free to move, and speak, once the infernal gag was removed. Madam had stuffed a large wad of cotton deep into my mouth, taped that tightly in place with black electrical tape, then tightly wound and knotted a pair of pantyhose over that, ensuring that the cotton was solidly crammed as far back as anatomy allowed. My jaw hurt, and I was working it back into position when the maid left us alone, before I could say anything.

 

I looked at the clock. It was early morning, around 6 o'clock. I stood there in my corset and stockings, and looked at Madam's bound form. She was still asleep. I looked around, and saw the keys on the small table next to the door; the maid had picked them up on the way in. I pondered my options. I decided to shower and dress first.

I fixed myself up acceptably, and went to the Barbie Room to choose an outfit. I chose a kind of princess gown, a lovely white affair with silver accents, bouffant sleeves, and a long flowing skirt. I had to tighten my corset at least another inch - hard enough - to just be able to zip it up. I saw myself in the mirror and was awestruck.

 

Back to my bedroom, and Madam was stirring, in the first stages of waking up. I stroked her hair and cheek gently, and she moaned pleasurably as she squirmed in her bonds. A sudden jerk signaled her full return to consciousness, followed by a brief struggle. "Sshhh..." I hushed her, calming her down. She remembered having bound herself. She mmmphhed something I couldn't understand, maybe "untie me" or "ham pie tea" or something. I giggled softly and started removing the ropes one by one.

 

I worked at the ring device pinning her legs and wrists close, and now she could stretch out, though she was still bound solidly enough to remain trapped. I ran my fingernails along her flesh, which was answered by another gagged moan of pleasure, and a body covered in goosebumps. I untied her ankles, then her knees. I turned her over on her back, and sensually kissed her pussy, her left then right breast, then her ballgagged mouth. I could tell that this was turning her on immensely, since her breathing was affected by her shivering in delight.

 

I loosened the cinching nooses under her armpits, then flipped her over again to do the same with the noose that cinched her wrist coil. She quickly freed herself from that, and sat up in a flash, and more quickly than I could imagine, released her arms from the shoulder-pinning coil. Her flesh was covered in dark red rope marks. She sat there expectantly. I smiled, rose and fetched the key to the padlocks on her gag harness. I stood there, smiling impishly, holding the key, while she mmpphed and pointed at her head. Madam stood and put her hands on her hips, with a mock expression of indignation. I giggled and unlocked the padlocks, and slowly unbuckled it, and pulled it off her head carefully.

 

Act III - Winter play

 

My first winter as Barbie was literally a return to childhood, both for me and for Madam. We played in the snow, like kids, making snowmen when the snow was sticky enough, and snow angels. I showed Madam some snow skills, like building an igloo. We even had the occasional snowball fight, giggling like schoolgirls.

 

My first Christmas with Madam saw me dressed as a Christmas tree angel, distributing gifts at the party that Madam held. This time, Madam stayed close, encouraging me and whispering promises of ample rewards later. Promises that she kept, much to my delight, but this time, after fulfilling her promise, she unbound me, and then told me to tie her up. "Don't spare the rope, Barbie. I want it to leave marks for at least a couple of days."

 

I obeyed her order, and proceeded to bind her in the strictest possible hogtie, elbows bound together and tightly secured to her back, legs bound and cinched as much as I could muster with my strength, breasts tied, everything taut and pressing hard into Madam's flesh. I gagged her solidly with a handkerchief stuffed deeply in her mouth, and secured with pantyhose stretched as far as it would go before being knotted. I asked her if she found it satisfactory, and she nodded, unable to make a sound. Her face seemed to be frozen in an expression of surprise. I wedged a vibrator in her crotch, and turned it on.

 

Madam strained hard against her bonds, though she couldn't move any part of her body more than a half inch. I stroked her skin with my fingernails, gently, and she shivered in reaction to the pleasant stimulus. I could hear her breathing speed up, and every few minutes her wide-open eyes clenched tightly shut for a few seconds, accompanied by a violent tremor of her body and a muffled growl. I started tickling her clitoris, which made the violent tremors more frequent, until Madam finally tensed up hard, the ropes creaking, her eyes rolled back in their sockets, then she gave a final convulsion, accompanied by a deep but muffled growl, and went limp. I turned off the vibrator, and lay down beside her, stroking her hair and her cheek. She came to a few minutes later, and refused when I offered to untie her. We slept next to each other until morning, when she nodded and I removed her bonds.

 

Her flesh was crisscrossed in deep red rope marks, which she caressed with her fingers, shuddering in delight. She took my hand and put it on the red ring around her left breast. "Thank you, Barbie." she said. Madam hugged me tightly, and left to shower.

 

One afternoon walk on the grounds together, as snow was falling in those nice, fat, fluffy flakes, provided me an insight into Madam's soul, her deepest thoughts.

 

"Barbie," she began, "I want to let you know something. You have done something for me that no one else has given me." I continued walking along slowly, beside Madam. "What may that be, Madam?" "Friendship, real friendship. Not just being chummy because of the money, like a lot of people. Such fakes..."

 

I was thunderstruck. I searched for words. "Madam, I am sure there are a lot of people out there who would want to be friends with you, just for who you are." I know it sounded lame, but I had to try something. This was getting awkward.

 

"You don't understand, Barbie... Do you remember your first day here?" I nodded, keeping silent despite my almost irresistible urge to shoot back a sarcastic "Do I ever" or some other smart aleck remark of that nature. Call it accumulated wisdom.

 

"The old, faded Barbie doll in the hidden display. She was my faithful friend, the only one that didn't leave me every time my parents moved to another town. She was my confidante, the one that knew all my thoughts. That doll heard more things about my inner feelings than my own mother did."

 

"Both your parents worked?" Madam nodded. "Yes. I saw more of my nanny than my parents. And of course my Barbie, who never left my side." She paused.

 

"You are so much more. You are not an inanimate plastic toy. You are a living, breathing person with a heart, a soul, a mind. You are a sister to me in some ways, a daughter in others, and a lover too. You have become more than just a plaything, Barbie. It has been less than a year since you became my Barbie Doll, and in that short time, you have given me a new lease on life, a new view of the world."

 

"Madam, I-" I started, and Madam interrupted me. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you." That hit me like a hammer, and I completely forgot what I wanted to say. Here was Madam, a formidable woman, capable of obtaining everything she wanted from anybody, opening her heart, her soul to me, and revealing to me what she could never obtain, even with all the power and influence and money. She never had a real, close friend, except that first Barbie, the faded plastic doll with the worn-out dress, stored preciously in the display case in the Barbie Room.

 

Madam never even had real parents, their own pursuits of fame and fortune left a little girl alone with her dolls. Now a mature woman, she had beauty, money, power, but her heart was empty. A cold empty void that was now starting to fill and warm up because of Barbie... because of me...

 

Then I had a cold knot in my belly. That last sentence Madam spoke. The question appeared in my head, then, not what she would do if she lost me, more like what would she do to me if I left her? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, they say... If Madam wasn't Satan in person, she probably could make him do her bidding.

 

 

 

Chapter 6 - Freedom of choice

 

Act I - Opportunity

 

The first anniversary of my arrival here approached. I had not been outside of the estate grounds since my first visit to the office, virtually imprisoned here, though I have no complaints as to the treatment I have received, other than the visit to the torture chamber annexed to Madam's office. Even then, I was lucky that Madam only frightened me enough to lose my bladder control.

 

I have behaved myself in an exemplary fashion, which spared me any other visits to that room, and have not yet been "downstairs", the other dungeon alluded to by Templeton, and by my deduction, far more frightening than the one where I peed on the floor. I could not imagine what could be down there.

 

My hormone treatments were increased in potency, which somewhat decreased my libido. However, Madam's skillful arousal techniques have more than compensated for that. My real breasts have swelled to large A-cups, and the doctor's prognosis is that I could potentially wind up with C-cups, almost as large as Madam's impressive rack. Even so, Madam promised that my mammaries would be augmented with implants.

 

My body changed also. I lost muscle mass in the upper body, arms, shoulders, chest, and gained fat in my hips, butt and thighs, feminizing my figure considerably. My face's angles softened too. I had fantasized about this kind of transformation before. Maybe that's why I liked it. I didn't mind the changes at all. And considering Jeff's reaction at the office... I decided that being a woman was not so bad after all. I might even decide to start a new life as a woman, once I get out of Madam's clutches. I looked good, way better than when I was a man.

 

I woke on a Wednesday morning, early, on the first anniversary of my acceptance to become Barbie. I stretched sensually in my bedclothes, and got out of bed. I removed my nightgown, my stiff night corset, and the chemise under it, and went to the shower to get ready for the day ahead. The weekend's "celebrations" had left their marks on my skin.

 

I dried myself off carefully, avoiding excess pressure on the sore spots, and dressed for the day's work. The usual array of undergarments, including my day corset, tightened to 22 inches, topped with a gorgeously cut outfit with a tight pencil skirt and a curve-hugging jacket with a flared hip section that made my waist look even tinier. I had seen a picture of a 1950s outfit and Madam noticed my admiration, so she had it made for me. I was now wearing five-inch plus heels every day, and ballet heels on a regular basis. This precarious balancing act became second nature, and I could walk quite nimbly on these high heels.

 

I left my bedroom and started for the staff dining room. The house was oddly quiet this morning, despite the hour. My stiletto heels sounded louder than usual on the hard floor, and the echoes seemed to go on for longer than I was used to hearing. It was an eerie feeling.

 

I entered the dining room, and looked around. Normally, there were at least two other staff maids already there having breakfast. The place was empty. I went to the counter and waited for a few moments. I heard no sounds coming from the kitchen, or smell any odor of cooking. "Hello?" I ventured, with my now well-practiced feminine voice. "Anybody here?" I called out, tentatively. No answer.

 

I knew I wasn't supposed to go behind the service counter, but I did, because I was hungry. I searched around for any of the kitchen staff, while on the lookout for something to eat. I found a large muffin, apple and cinnamon with raisins, and found coffee in the coffeemaker. I went back to the dining area and sat down to ponder what was going on, as I nibbled my muffin and enjoyed my coffee.

 

The silence was eerie, and it gave me shivers up my spine. I could almost hear my own heart beating. This room usually hosted five maids at this hour, including Lennox, the night maid, who came to take one last cup of tea before retiring. I thought I heard a sound, and called out again, "Hello? Anyone?". It must have been a refrigerator switching on.

 

I finished my coffee, and cleaned up the muffin crumbs. I placed my cup in the used dish rack, and left.

 

I walked through the servant's wing of the house, looking for anyone. The place was deserted. I knocked on several locked doors, calling out, but no response was to be had from any of them. Not even any quiet shuffling, or snoring. I was getting nervous at this point. There had to be someone in the place.

I remembered that Mr. Lavelle, the elderly groundskeeper, and only male staffer of Madam's household, arrived around six in the morning. He was the only staffer not residing in-house. He should be tending to the garden in the back at this hour. I turned on my heels and started walking briskly back along the path I came. I passed Madam's study, and found it unlocked. I peered inside, and I only heard her clock ticking slowly away. "Madam?" I tentatively called, a little apprehension in my voice. Usually her response was quick. I entered, making sure I was not observed.

 

On her desk, I found no clues as to what happened, why the place was apparently deserted. Madam was neat, organized, and regular. She put everything away before leaving her study, unless I was there. She trusted me with all her correspondence and business paperwork. That in itself was extraordinary, because Madam was not a naturally trusting person.

 

I left the study, closing the door behind me. I resumed my quick pace toward the back door, to the garden, where Mr. Lavelle would be working right now. The cool morning air greeted me, caressing my nylon-sheathed legs, all the way up my skirt, raising goosepimples on my skin. "Mr. Lavelle?" I called out, before stepping off the patio. I heard no answer, so I figured he must have started working elsewhere on the large estate grounds, maybe in his garden shed.

 

I walked over to the shed, and called his name again. Nothing. The shed was locked, so he wasn't here. This was getting a bit spooky, if not frightening. I was alone here, exposed. I started walking around the house, to see if Mr. Lavelle would be somewhere around.

 

The old groundskeeper was nowhere to be found, and when I came around to the front of the house, I saw that Madam's car was gone. I found myself wishing that someone was here, anyone, so I could have an explanation for what was going on. This was very unsettling.

 

I starting walking down to the gate, a distance of about a hundred yards along the sinuous, tree-shrouded driveway. As I rounded the last bend, I could see the street through... the open gate! My heart was pounding hard as I quickened my pace, the doorway to freedom in sight. I could not believe that Madam or anyone on the staff would be so careless as to leave the gate open like this.

 

I came up to the gate and stopped, looking at the street beyond, maybe thirty feet away. I hesitated briefly, my fear of exposure in my current dress temporarily overpowering my common sense, the latter eventually reminding me that I looked just as convincing as any real woman around. I turned my head to look behind me, a reflex, and took the first step to liberation.

 

I walked determinedly down the last thirty feet to the street, but in my mind, the memories of humiliation and pain gave way to the tender moments Madam had given me since then, the guidance, the lavishing of gifts, the raucous and outrageous sex... something that I had never experienced with any girlfriend in my previous life...

 

I remembered her words when we walked in the snow together, as my pace slowed. Her confidences about her childhood. Madam's exposing her deepest thoughts and feelings to me in the year we have been together. The meaning of that old Barbie doll, faded but not forgotten. My own heart began to feel for her, and my mind started to make a list of what I would miss about Madam...

 

I stopped at the sidewalk, and looked around. It was a calm weekday morning, and the occasional luxury sedan rolled by, carrying their occupants to their daily routine. The smell of lilacs in bloom inundated my senses, reminding me of Madam's perfume. I looked down at myself, my gorgeous body, one that I had always dreamed of having, the one I fantasized about when I wore women's undergarments on the sly, and wondered what would happen if I left, never to come back.

 

I realized then what Madam meant to me, and more poignantly, what I meant to her. I could never have dreamed of finding a woman who would both love me and cater to my taste for cross-dressing, who would take care of me, pamper me, and introduce me to some interesting, though excitingly kinky ways of spicing up my sex life. I felt deeply ashamed for even thinking about betraying Madam's kindness in such a way.

 

I stood on the curb for maybe ten minutes, tears running down my face, sobbing quietly. Several cars passed by, but apart from a passing glance, none of their occupants took any notice of me. I made up my mind. This could not go further. I turned around and marched back up the driveway, back to the life that was literally given to me, back to a life that I had become accustomed to. Back to Madam.

 

Act II - Redemption

 

The house came into view, and I stopped cold in my tracks when I saw Madam's car in its usual place. My color drained completely, and I started to fear what was awaiting me inside. My legs shook, making the last steps up to the front door difficult. Was this a trap? Set for me to fall into, automatically earning me punishment for my misdeeds? What misdeeds? I returned, didn't I?

 

I stopped at the front door, the tears having returned to my eyes, and I was trembling in sheer terror. My shaking hand went for the doorknob, when the door opened. I jumped in surprise, and stepped back in fear. Madam was there, smiling warmly, extending her arms to me. She saw my hesitation, my tears, my trembling, my wide-open eyes, my drained expression of horror, and tears came to her eyes too.

 

"Come, Barbie. You have come all this way, now come all the way. You know why you came back, my beloved Barbie Doll. Because you know what you mean to me. Your heart is pure, Barbie, that's why you came back." It was a test, a trap, but I passed... I avoided the snare...

 

I took the last steps to Madam's waiting arms. I was shaking so much I could barely keep my balance. I nearly fell into Madam's embrace, and she tightly hugged me, caressing my back gently, letting me spill my tears onto her shoulder. "I'm so sorry..." I sobbed. Madam hushed me, and said, "I know, Barbie. And I forgive you."

 

The day was one of celebration, of my year as Barbie, of my passing the test of loyalty and love for Madam. I still felt guilt at even thinking of leaving Madam, leaving her alone and unloved, betrayed.

 

The whole staff was there, as well as Mr. Lavelle. It was a full-blown party, until lunch, when we all had a meal together. I tried to put on a happy face, but unless I forced it, the smile sagged away quickly. The meal ended, and after a heartfelt toast to me from Madam, the staff dispersed and went back to their duties. Madam took me by the shoulder and guided me gently to her study.

 

We both sat down on a couch opposite her desk, side by side. She took my hands in hers, and spoke in an emotional tone.

 

"A year ago, you were here, and you decided to accept my offer. Since then, we have gone through a lot together, and we both have committed deeds that we regretted later. Long before that, I have had those dilemmas, having to do something but regretting its necessity, my conscience catching up with me. I have found ways of dealing with my pent-up emotions, and bondage is one of them." I nodded my understanding, and replied, "I need a serious tying up right now... maybe more."

 

Madam stroked my cheek, wiping a tear away. "What do you feel, right now? What do you want to do to yourself?"

 

"I feel dirty. What turned me around was what you said, last winter, when we walked in the snow, when those big flakes were falling," Madam squeezed my hand gently, "I remember. I opened my heart to you, because I knew you would understand."

 

I continued. "I feel like I betrayed you, walking out like that. I want you to punish me, Madam." "Barbie..." she started, "No, Madam. I deserve this. Take me downstairs. Please, punish me." Madam stood up, and towered over me. "Young lady, I will not. You will punish yourself." I looked up at her, shocked. "Madam?"

 

"You are now a grown woman. Yes, a woman. You have always wanted this. Now you have it. And now you will know what I do to cleanse myself, as a woman with a conscience. Is that what you want to do, clear your conscience?" I nodded, "Yes, Madam." She extended a hand, "Come with me."

 

Act III - Downstairs

 

The dungeon where I was punished the first time was just a place for minor or first time transgressions. Its primary functon, well fulfilled, was to scare the hell out of anyone unfortunate enough to have raised Madam's ire. The "downstairs" one, accessed via a secret door in the first dungeon, was equipped with much more technological, and frightening, devices to inflict pain, and was used for those that more seriously irritated her. And something more.

 

"Each of these devices is capable of inflicting punishments of various types. There is strict confinement, crushing, lashing, shocks, lacerations, traction, you name it. The other difference with most torture devices is that many can be used solo. That's why I come down here alone when my conscience nags at me. You will choose one, and subject yourself to it. Or you may not. It's your choice, or it's mine."

 

I looked at Madam with a measure of disbelief, both from the order to submit willingly, and the fact that Madam herself was a frequent victim of these infernal machines. I decided that it would be better if I chose my own punishment. Madam may have mellowed over the past year, but she was still capable of being very severe in her displinary measures.

 

Madam showed and described each one to me. I decided on a confinement device that would be impossible to release myself from once committed. It was a kind of plastic encapsulation of the entire body, similar to a vacuum bed, but the soft plastic hardened and adhered to the body and the board. Only a breathing hole was left open. I also requested that my ears be plugged and my eyes blindfolded to totally isolate me from my surroundings.

 

I undressed, plugged my ears, lay down on the table, and blindfolded myself. I could hear nothing and see nothing, but felt the soft plastic sheet draping itself around me, then begin to shrink and harden. Soon I could no longer move at all, much to my alarm, the hardened shell allowing not so much as a fraction of an inch of liberty. I could breathe only with difficulty, because my chest was also confined as in a corset. My senses dulled further because of this.

 

In my solitary universe, time seemed to slow down to a crawl. The strict confinement caused me to panic somewhat, but I couldn't even struggle against the unyielding prison. I completely lost track of time. I persisted, willingly, to endure this absolute deprivation. It was the most difficult bondage I have ever experienced, even at the hands of Madam. Now, it was my own doing, and I could only count on Madam to release me from this prison.

 

The complete isolation took its toll, and I used my only avenue of communication, the breathing hole, to attempt to beg for release. Madam had promised to do so at the first sign I gave. I could barely hear my own sounds of distress, and I was hard-pressed to know how long I was whimpering pitifully before Madam saved me from my ordeal.

 

I could feel some vibrations of something cutting the plastic, and a dull, distant ripping sound. Then I felt some cool air over my head and shoulders. I struggled frantically to try to escape the rest of my plastic prison, the tears leaking from under my blindfold, my sobs and cries resonating in the room. Madam stopped her work, and soothed me with a gentle caress of my cheek and a soft kiss. She removed the blindfold and the ear plugs, and I was back in the world again.

 

When she finally finished releasing me, she helped my trembling form off the table. I collapsed into her arms, and thanked her. "Madam, how long was I in there?" I asked, my voice weak. Madam hugged me tight, and replied, "It doesn't matter, beloved Barbie Doll. Only that you did it and did it willingly." She paused, and added, "A little over six hours." I was stunned. I could have sworn it was more like six days.

 

Epilogue

 

That day, I passed all the tests Madam had in mind for me. I swore that I would never try to leave her again, though she did ensure that any future escape attempts would be met with appropriate measures. A small RFID chip was implanted in me, which ensured that I stayed within a certain radius of Madam or a place of her choice. An alarm would sound if I strayed outside that zone, or went somewhere forbidden by Madam, and I would be quickly located, captured, and punished.

 

I was also fitted with a discreet collar, but it concealed a devious device that would definitely ensure that I was Madam's prisoner. Linked to the RFID chip, if I strayed outside the permitted radius of Madam or the prescribed location I was to be restricted to, the collar would contract, strangling me. Only Madam could remove it, and any attempts to tamper with it would also result in strangulation. A mild demonstration convinced me to banish all future thoughts of escape or betrayal. Madam made sure I was hers to keep, forever.

 

I can't say that I regret my choice to become Barbie Doll. I have everything I want, but I am still subjected to Madam's whims, though her penchant for cruel humiliation has been considerably diminished, and has become more of a partnership in kinkiness.

 

I have become her right hand at the company, earned her trust to a degree. And none of my former co-workers suspect who I am, really. I take full advantage of that, and toy with them in various ways. That gives me a sort of perverted sense of satisfaction. I admit that some of Madam's wicked ways have rubbed off on me.

 

In retrospect, Madam needed me, to grow, to evolve. And I needed her, to fulfill some of my wildest fantasies. We all need a Madam, to keep us in check, to make our dreams come true, and we all need a Barbie, to make us grow and discover the person hidden inside us.

 

But I remain her virtual prisoner. Part of me is excited by this captivity, a kind of damsel in distress dream come true. Sometimes it isn't as rosy, and I long for freedom. But as I look at Madam, now, compared to that fateful Saturday morning when I signed my life over to her, I remember that I made her into what she is today.

 

To anyone who may read this one day, if you ever find your Madam, treasure her, cherish her, bow down to her, because she is your Mistress, your Goddess, she can give you everything, as well as take everything away. Do all in your power to keep such a person in your heart and to keep yourself in hers. There are very few women like that. In some ways, that's a good thing. From another viewpoint, it's a shame there aren't more like her.

 

The Barbie Clause - Part 2

 

(Originally posted in the forum)