that i'd submit to a mannequinised mistress. now posed at Club Circe
The figure clad head to toe in shiny crimson latex looks every inch the confident dominant as she sits on the couch in the club. She lounges feet up and riding crop ready as she gazes into the flickering flame of the gas lamp.
On closer inspection you realize that she doesn't move at all, doesn't make a sound, and the lenses are blank. It's a mannequin, just a fake that fooled you for a minute.
Or is it?
For now she still remembers the day she came to club and was fooled by the mannequin just like you were, how she told the owner that she wished she looked that good...if only she'd known.
Now she does look that good, exactly like that...she's trapped inside unable to speak or move, seeing people only dimly as she fools them until they realize what she is, a fake.
That's her name now, 'Fake', the only name she knows, and everyone can see that she's exactly that, a fake dominant, a fake mistress, looking the part but totally fake.
The club owner doesn't like fakes but she like to collect trophies, living helpless trophies.
Why not take a selfie with her, it's not like she can object.
The person now only known as Fake (malon.sewell) is grabbed and imprisoned in the mannequin whenever she logs on. She'll always look the perfect rubber Mistress but she'll always be a fake for everyone to see. When she's not online her rubber mannequin prison sits waiting to recapture her.