Your vision swims as consciousness claw-slides back into your skull. You blink against the harsh glare of a single overhead lamp. Cold metal straps bite into your wrists and ankles beneath a glossy orange “Maximum Security” suit that encases your entire body in seamless, high-gloss latex. A gag muffles your tongue; a blindfold swaddles your head—you can’t see a thing. Your four limbs press into the floor beneath you, hips raised, arms stuck against your chest inside the suit, limbs folded so that your elbows and knees act as the foot of what you're being used as - a stepping stool. A rigid tail arcs behind you, curving upward in surrender.

Footsteps—sharp clicks echo across the concrete. The cell door hisses open. She stands there, tall and statuesque in tight black latex pants and matching gloves, russet fur gleaming. Her heel-less boots are absent; instead, her bare, furred paw-boots rest on your bound back, pressing you deeper into the suit’s slick confines.

Governor Reeve (voice low, silky): “Well, look who finally woke up. You didn’t exactly break any laws, darling—you were… ‘persuaded.’”

Her foot shifts, the orange latex rippling beneath her weight. You gasp against the gag as the suit’s seams hug every curve, every joint restrained by a black neoprene harness cinched tight across your chest and hips.

Governor Reeve (soft chuckle): “No guards tonight. Just us—and this lovely… outfit.”

She leans down, gloved fingertips trailing along the spine-seam of your headpiece, over the stamped “MAXIMUM SECURITY” barcode at your collar. The metal ID tag jingles.

Governor Reeve (whisper): “Welcome to your surprise… vacation. I promise you’ll never forget it.”

The cell door clangs shut. You’re left on all fours, fully trapped in that gleaming suit—held fast by latex, metal, and her inscrutable will—every breath a reminder that you’re utterly hers.