The Con Artists Graveyard

While her husband was busy in the cellar, the housekeeper gave Vicky a moment of solitude to reflect as she stepped outside to gather the items needed for Vicky's transformation. A contented smile appeared on her lips; she hadn’t enjoyed herself this much in a long time, not since Mr. Woods passed away. She absentmindedly touched her breast at the memory of him, admitting to herself that she had loved the old man deeply, almost as much as she loved her niece, Nicola.

Nicola had discovered her Auntie's unusual relationship with her uncle purely by accident at a fetish club in Gravesend, run by a friend of hers. It was Nicola and John's first outing as Mistress and sub together. They were both masked, identities concealed, and she knew her friend could be trusted to be discreet. Nicola was sitting at the bar with John, kneeling at her feet on a leash, when she heard a voice she recognized. Her jaw dropped when she saw her aunt at the end of the bar. She was dressed as if she had just stepped out of a fetish magazine, commanding and alluring. Even more surprising was the fact that a woman of her age was standing behind her, collared, gagged, and her hands chained behind her back.

Nicola watched her aunt take her drink before leading the girl toward the playroom in the club. Curiosity got the better of her, so she pulled John along behind her, making him crawl. Her aunt was sitting in one of the comfy viewing chairs, with the girl kneeling beside her. They were watching a whipping on a St. Andrew's cross. Nicola looked at the man they were watching and recognized the tattoos on his arms— it was her uncle. He was being whipped by a younger, very fit man. When the whipping was over, the young man went over to her aunt and kissed her hard on the lips. Her hand slipped between his legs and gently squeezed his cock through his leather pants.

Nicola decided she needed a serious talk with her auntie. The next day, she traveled to Strood to visit her aunt. Her aunt lived in a modest council house and worked as a dinner lady, while her uncle was a council worker. As Nicola approached the front door, it swung open, revealing the young man and woman from the previous night walking out hand in hand. They nodded to her as they passed, seemingly unaware of who she was.

Nicola turned her gaze back to the porch, where her aunt stood. She was dressed in a simple housecoat and holding a steaming cup of tea. Nicola couldn't believe the transformation; this was the same woman she had seen commanding the room in a fetish magazine just hours earlier.

They embraced. "Do you want a cup of tea?" her aunt asked.

They sat in the kitchen, chatting about family and friends, the everyday small talk hiding the tension underneath. Finally, her aunt set her cup down and looked sharply at Nicola. "Do you want to say what you really came here to talk about, my love, or shall we just go on bullshitting?"

Nicola was taken aback. "Did you know we were there? How could you know?"

"Oh, that silly mask you had on," her aunt replied with a knowing smile on her lips. "Nicola dear, I had you on my lap changing your nappies when you were a baby. The way you crooked your head when you saw me at the bar was enough for me."

Nicola sat back, back-footed by her aunt's revelation.

What followed was a long and frank conversation, the air thick with the revelation of their secret lives. At the end, Nicola's auntie pushed open the back door and called her husband inside. He was tending to the small vegetable plot he had set up at the back of their garden, a man of the earth. "Yes, my love," he replied, his voice gravelly as he stepped into the kitchen. "Nicola's come to talk about last night," she told him.

"Why don't you take your overall off and greet her how you should?" she commanded, her tone imperious. "And from now on, it will be Miss Nicola to you. Got that?"

"Yes, my love," he answered instantly. He stepped out of the dirty overalls, his body exposed and vulnerable, and fell to the floor, pressing his lips to his niece's feet in an act of complete submission.

"What about the young couple I saw leaving this morning? And last night?" Nicola asked curiously.

"Charlie and Susanne?" the aunt scoffed lightly. "Oh, they’re just a couple we met online. He's a dom with a big dick and bi, and she’s a total submissive slut."

Then she looked at her kneeling husband and asked the question that lingered in the air. "Why do I need a big cock?"

He bowed his head, unable to look her in the eye, and whispered softly, "Because mine is too small and can't satisfy you, my love."

Nicola clapped her hands, the sound sharp and echoing in the small kitchen. She laughed out loud, a genuine sound of delight. Then, turning to them, she announced she had a proposition for both of them and arranged to meet them at the house in Blue Bell Hill that evening.

Nicola and John showed her aunt and uncle around the house they had recently bought, which was still undergoing renovations. They ended up in the kitchen, one of the few rooms already finished. John made everyone some coffee and sat down with them at the table. Nicola placed her hand on John's and told her aunt and uncle that they had a proposition. She asked them not to be offended and then asked if they would consider working for them as a housekeeper and a gardener/handyman.

After a long discussion and reaching terms, they shook hands. Nicola mentioned they had one more surprise for them and handed them a set of keys. She asked them to follow her. She led them down a footpath under the veranda attached to the house, through a gate, and along another footpath. It opened into the garden of a converted Gamekeeper's cottage.

The evening concluded with John on his knees between Nicola's aunt's legs, and Nicola's uncle positioned between her legs. The women sat next to each other in chairs, holding hands as they reached climax together. The deal was sealed.

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The housekeeper stepped back into the room, the air suddenly thick with the smell of latex and rubber. In one hand, she held a mess of black rubber, and in the other, a pair of heavy black boots. She placed them on the bed next to Vicky with a dull thud and walked out again.

The smell of rubber hit Vicky’s nostrils, sharp and chemical. The housekeeper returned a moment later, carrying a large plastic tote. "Right then, let's get you ready, shall we?" she said, her voice lacking any warmth.

She untied the ropes holding Vicky to the chair and helped her stand, the sudden release of tension causing her joints to ache. She then removed the handcuffs, letting them clatter to the floor. Next, she picked up a web of leather straps. She instructed Vicky to step forward, then wrapped the end of a leather strip around each wrist and buckled it tight. She pulled on both arms, crossing them behind Vicky's back until each hand was pressed against the other's elbow.

She then wrapped the excess leather around both awkwardly folded arms, pulling it as tight as possible. The leather creaked and bit into Vicky's soft flesh, pinning her arms in place. It was almost like she was in a crude, backward straitjacket.

The Housekeeper took another set of straps from the tote and retrieved a tube of lube. She squeezed some onto her fingers and instructed Vicky to lean forward. Vicky obeyed, her body tense. She gasped as she felt the lubricated fingers enter her. They were removed after a moment, and then something heavier was inserted, stretching her open.

The Housekeeper ordered Vicky to stand, legs apart. She reached down between Vicky's legs and pulled through a strap. Halfway along the strap, protruding awkwardly, was a large black dildo. She maneuvered the dildo upward into Vicky, making her moan at the intrusion, a mix of strange pleasure and the physical discomfort of being filled. The Housekeeper adjusted the strap, ensuring both the dildo and the butt plug were firmly in place. She then threaded a belt through both ends of the strap, securing the entire apparatus tightly against Vicky's body.

The rubber bodysuit came next. The housekeeper dusted Vicky with a fine, perfumed powder before slipping it on, leg by leg, and over her shoulders. Designed without arms—Nicola had decided Vicky wouldn't need them—it wrapped around her body like a second skin. A zipper ran from the middle of her lower back through the crotch and up to a high neckline, capable of being opened from either end for access. The suit left cutouts for her breasts, pushing them forward as her arms were awkwardly pinned behind her back.

Next was the rubber hood. It slid over Vicky's freshly shaved head, framing her made-up face. The bottom of the hood slid in under the collar of the suit. A wide, black leather collar was fastened around her neck, thick and heavy, with a large silver ring at the front, keeping her head looking straight ahead. A wide red ball gag was inserted and strapped tightly behind her head. Finally, the Housekeeper made Vicky step into a pair of shiny black boots with ridiculously high heels.

"Perfect fuck toy," the housekeeper said. Vicky wobbled in her high heels, her balance unstable as the rubber suit limited her movement. She stood there, helpless as the housekeeper moved around her, stroking and caressing the tight rubber. "You're going to love this next part," she told Vicky before leaving the room again.

She returned with an ice bucket. Vicky was sweating inside the rubber suit. She nervously watched the housekeeper, who was obviously preparing something. Suddenly, Vicky jumped as two strong arms grabbed her shoulders. The gardener was behind her.

The housekeeper turned around; she was wearing medical gloves and holding an ice cube. Vicky tried to move as the ice was rubbed around her nipple. Soon after, the housekeeper brought out a piercing needle. Vicky screamed into the gag as her left nipple was pierced, a small tube inserted into the opening, followed by a large hoop threaded through the tube. The same process was repeated on the right nipple.