Poor Perma-Prisoner. God, it's just truly horrible. Look at the writing on her thigh. That MASSIVE inflatable collar. The huge weight holding her down.

And her captor? So so so evil. Cinala is going to just doom her little perma-prisoner. Using her. Bending and breaking her. Squeezing her tight, rubberizing her. Maybe worse. This doesn't even feature all the scenes (you can imagine them, though!) of K-177-EN strapped into a nice thick vac-sealed bitchsuit and used as an oral service doll. Nor does it feature her mouth glued open and body sealed under the Warden's desk. Nor does it feature her as a vacbed portrait in the entry hall, to be an eternally edged and denied and humiliated little trophy. I didn't even have time to add all the horrible sessions of whipping, using, processing, thrashing, and training! 

But let's just say that you can, and should, imagine all kinds of awful, delightful, extreme little asylum scenarios for K-177-EN ;) 

Oh, and take a CAREFUL look at that hatch and what's written on it. Anyway, on to the story! 

====

Phantom could just see the anger in Warden Cinala’s eyes. The fury. The pain. She savored it. She held it, held it close, and felt energized by it. The fury as she placed his little chew-toy in the big mold, the anger as she turned the spigots on, the pleading from the both of them. Yes… she could see it, feel it. Long-delayed gratification warming her cruel soul.

She could see sunset rays entering the Warden’s office. High above the rest of the prison, isolated, with no hope of escaping down or up. Saw them casting reflections off of Cinala’s body. For now. She was going to make sure she didn’t see sun for a long time. She turned on another spigot. The warden’s office was all modern furniture, very nice, very classy, and was empty of any staff save for the escaped Phantom, the Warden herself, and her little plaything, Raiko. 

She heard Raiko make grunting, pleading sounds. He’d been put into a big two-piece mold, made of clear heat-treated crystal, and was now eagerly filling it to the brim with squishy, liquid expanding rubber. Oh, he’d be nice and packed. After all this time as the Warden’s little chew-toy, bed-warmer, and plaything, she was going to seal him good, and keep him as a trophy of her daring escape! How wonderful he’d be; molded and locked in place. A handsome little body-pillow for her to take as a souvenir.

Meanwhile, the Warden was not going anywhere. Cinala strained against the most evil thing Phantom had done in a long, long time. The prison was expanding, and this tower was about to be converted to be used as overflow for some high-level prisoners. Where better to permanently stick the little pup than here, with the other valuable prisoners? 

Wearing a prisoner containment suit, mouth stuffed full of Phantom’s undergarments, then taped over about fifteen times with some office duct tape… and of course, mummified and wrapped from the neck down in matching silver tape over her ruined warden’s uniform. The poor warden wasn’t just bound, though. No, that would be far too good for her. Phantom had opened up a wall panel, and she was about to seal this bitch in. All the industrial supplies she’d stolen and used to escape, now coming back to help ensure the Warden was going to stay forever inside her own prison. ♥️ Curved metal panels squeezed the pup’s body to the inner wall, each of them bolted on. Bound, gagged, and forced to watch as his plaything got rubberized. And so came the penultimate step. Phantom approached Cinala, carrying a big repair-gun. It was also filled with expanding foam. She’d need to really isolate and soundproof this dumb dog’s tomb before she walled over it. Cinala’s eyes went wide as Phantom approached…

Phantom lost all ability to imagine things, and was being brutally dumped back into harsh reality. For many, this would be a joyous moment; being freed from her extreme isolation. How many prisoners would have given anything, ANYTHING to be a bit more free than being ultra-isolated and immobilized? (How many still were trapped, losing their minds in exquisite and unending bondage?) But Phantom had almost, almost managed to make a meditative state out of it. 

…but not quite. Cinala, even when she was ignoring her prisoner, had special ministrations for her to keep her occupied. Random sounds, zaps, shocks, heat or cold. Depriving her of even quiet. It was horrid. Though not as horrid as the first few days of panic-inducing extreme rubber enclosure. 

The worst part of it was getting that damn warden’s face burnt into her brain. A ghostly after-image, as if she’d been staring at the sun. The look of the floppy-eared Warden Cinala waving goodbye as she sentenced Phantom to a week of ISOLATION for talking back or acting out. And, for Phantom, that meant being slowly lowered into a silo filled with liquid rubber, absolutely, absolutely isolating and encasing the little tigress, and letting it cool down. A lump in her throat always choked her up. She never knew if this was going to be it, if Cinala was going to entomb and forget about her like this…

…but it hadn’t happened yet. After all, the warden had so many more tortures for her prisoner kitten. For prisoner K-177-EN.

—

Cinala wouldn’t normally let her little chew-toy Raikano do any “work.” But this was a  rare chance where letting him squeak along would be fun. After all, he’d get to see his favorite - or least favorite? - prisoner. Once in a while, for just a bit now and then, it was nice to have an audience.

“So, you’ve been decanted, cleaned, relaminated, and now you’re not even grateful, are you?”

Kitten was strapped up tight to a big hand-truck. Twelve straps was probably too many, but the nice magnetic locks without keys was just too good a look not to use. Cinala also made sure that the hand-truck’s steel frame was good and sturdy, reinforced - in the unlikely event that they had to put down K-177-EN, Cinala didn’t want her going anywhere.

“Grr..ghlll.” 

“That’s right. Grateful. I even had the prison doc do all that extra careful strip-searching and physical examination. You should be thankful I scheduled that extra dental exam; now we know that there’s really no upper limit to the gag we can stick in your mouth.”

Phantom winced. 

“A little work done here,” she said, flicking her prisoner’s ear playfully. “Some extra prodding there,” she said, making a quick grope of her chest. “And even a little work done up here,” Cinala said, pointing very ominous at the kitten’s forehead. Phantom shuddered to herself. She had been put under for the last portion of her treatment, and didn’t want to think of what Cinala had done in this horrible prison. 

“Hrrrrghhh…” an annoyed little groan from Phantom’s gagged cheeks. Cinala winked at her. “Quiet now. We have to pass through a few halls. No screaming, I’d hate to have to send you back. Just let the other  prisoners see what happens when you behave like you do.”

The other prisoners could only see, with some serious horror, at just what Cinala had done to the white tigress in her clutches. It was beautiful; a work of art for Warden Cinala, and a horrifying visage of inhumane cruelty to the other prisoners.

When she had arrived, she was Phantom. Though most didn’t know that now. Cinala made sure that no matter what, she was only ever referred to by her number. 

K-177-EN

That was her name. (Sometimes, its name, when Cinala just needed her as a rubber chair-warmer.) What she wore varied, but she was never, ever, ever without a thick suit of extreme, ultra-tensile rubber. Advanced neomaterials meant that past her inner suit from neck to toes, she usually enjoyed a second, thicker orange suit that really hugged her curves. 

The orange - with black trim for contrast - meant that if she ever escaped (she wouldn’t), people would recognize her instantly. Not just as a prisoner, but as a rubber plaything. An object. Definitely not a CEO or a dangerous villain. 

After all, real villains didn’t wear brutal ballet boots, all the way up to her thighs. They squeezed the hell out of her body and thighs. Thanks to her augmented form, the bite was merely humiliating and painful. Laces all the way down, and plenty of nice locked straps with D-ring attachments went all the way to the bottom of her brutal ballet boots. K-177-EN was technically capable of walking in them. Cinala had tried it out a few times. Exercise time for her little kitten had forced her to get be able to walk, just barely, on the ballet heels.

…but only barely. She was excited to see it, every time, because it was the kind of pathetic, stiff, lumbering gait that inevitably ended in the dumb slut falling to the ground with a squeak. 

“Nnnnnnnghhhhhhhh.”

“Oooh. That was a loud one, hon. You’re on thin ice. I’d hate to have to add another mark to your prisoner performance card. You were just a few centuries away from parole, after all!” Cinala’s eyes darted towards the prisoner as they finished up in the hall of cells, and approached a cargo elevator. 

The corset and straps really squeezed the hell out of the inflated jacket. This season’s cruelty was the inflated straitjacket. But calling it “an inflated straitjacket,” as kinky as it was, was selling it short. It was the understatement of the century; it was like calling Cinala’s prison “a holding area.” The little tigress had her arms folded in front of her, crossed in front of her tits and hands up towards her shoulders. Mag-locked buckles would keep her arms there for good, and that was before the two layers of rubber from the jacket. 

God, that, and the corset, absolutely squeezed this tigress. Squeezed her until Cinala expected her to pop. The pup’s eyes glistened when she saw K-177-EN squeezed like this, pressed, molded like a damn piece of clay in her hands. She grinned a toothy grin as she let the air pumps press her torso and arms and neck together. Oh god yes; the heart-shaped jacket, the inflated collar, oh yes yes yes. The inflated collar choked this bitch something awful - it even had its own distinct gas supply, using an experimental blend that Cinala could expand when she wanted to “gently” suffocate her little kitty. 

Once they were in the elevator, Cinala leaned against the chrome-silver wall. 

“So, where do you think we’re going?”

“...”

“No answers, huh. Well we’re not going to my office. I’m afraid you won’t be allowed up there any longer. We’re going down.” She tilted her head, and the prisoner’s angry eyes raised up to look at the elevator readout.

B-3…

B-4….

B-5….

Was the elevator slowing down as it went deeper and deeper?

B-6…

B-7…

B-8?!

“That’s right!! Get transferred, bitch. We’re eight floors down. We’re in the bunker. You could probably survive a war down here… and nobody would even find you then.”

“Hhffff…” Phantom exhaled. Her eyes narrowed.

God. This shepherd was such an absolute bitch. When Warden Cinala wasn’t walking around in that whorishly tight police outfit, she was playing with everyone here like they were a bunch of dolls. She hated it, and she hated her.

“I’m working hard on making the world ignore you and forget all about you, whatever you were called. But we’re eight floors down in my little vault. They built this level just for me, and frankly, just for you!” 

“NNNNGGGGH.”

“You just need to be real with yourself, kitten. Abandon all your hopes, let go of any ambitions you have of escape.” 

No…

Phantom struggled as they got off the elevator, revealing a dim and dark concrete hallway. Cinala waved off Raikano, who stayed on the elevator with a fat, gagged grunt of acquiescence. The smell was clean, neutral, but the temperature was colder. More dangerous. More isolated. The prisoner shook her head left and right. “No!” she thought, and tried to say, leaning against the dozen high-tensile straps as Cinala began pushing her down the hall. 

“Oh yes,” Cinalad said. “I just had the transfer paperwork put through today. You aren’t going anywhere, ever again. That little sentence of yours has been extended so long that the only way to get through it is to make your “rehabilitation” absolutely fucking extreme. That’s why I’ve got this nice vault-cell for you. 

That’s also why you’ve been wearing this for the past… what has it been, months? Or have we already hit a year?”

Cinala tapped between the tigress’s legs. She twitched.

Phantom had various things locked between her legs, but Cinala had been really enjoying keeping the kitty in a heavy chastity plate. Not to say she didn’t get used. A few months ago, she’d spent a month in a rubber bitchsuit, walking around on all fours like an animal. Her pussy had been locked, but Cinala had really relished having her ass available  for any kind of inspection, filling, fucking, or just torturing. And that was to say nothing of when her mouth was also ready. 

Down the hall, down another hall. Phantom managed, barely, to gulp nervously. She put on an aura of anger, furrowing her brow and staring at Cinala whenever the warden cast her a glance. In multiple layers of egregious rubber, all of it strapped and buckled, choked and edged and chaste and pretty much doomed. 

Cinala stopped when they got to a particularly dark hallway. One wall was mirrored entirely, meaning that there were eerie doubles of the two gals. 

“Ooooh. Spooky. I can’t remember if they built this wing just for me, or if these tunnels were already here. Real scary, huh? What if this was some forgotten bunker? What if I just close the door and leave prisoner K-177-EN here forever?”

She growled at Cinala, who smiled. She bared her fangs and chomped at the air, and it made Phantom flinch. 

“Tasty idea, isn’t it? It’s fitting for you… PERMA-PRISONER.” 

Cinala ran a finger down K-177-EN’s thigh. Phantom tried not to look at it, because it was just a reminder. 

A barcode. Information on how to treat her. How to keep her. And she knew what it said when scanned. She knew the letters on it. 

PERMA-PRISONER
DO NOT RELEASE. EVER.

“Yessss… take it in, kitty.” Cinala turned the cart so they could see each other in the dim light. “Me,  your loving and kiden warden. And you?” 

She took a thick handful of the kitty’s thighs, standing behind her, groping, grabbing.

“You’re a rubber-sealed slut. All mine, until I get bored of you.”

This was breaking something inside her. She stammered out something, trying to speak. 

“Tsk… you’re not a person. Barely even a prisoner. I mean seriously, look at you.” 

Cinala forced the jailed tigress’s head forward and flashed a light in her face. 

“Look at your cute little face. I’ve had you double-hooded so tight that nobody would ever recognize you. I’ve got your nose plugged. And of course, I’ve got your fat mouth plugged up, because frankly, I don’t think you’ll ever even talk again. Why bother? I should have had the doctor just cover those fangs in rubber caps. The only reason I didn’t glue your maw shut is because I need to fill and fuck it from time to time.” 

“NNNGGGH! FFNNGG YYHNNGH!” 

“Sooooo squirmy. I can feel you getting all hot and bothered when I say that, K-177-EN. Sooooo good of you, it’s nice to see you recognizing all the hard work I put in.”

Phantom wasn’t just angry. Now she was afraid. Struggling harder  as they approached a heavy-looking metal door. Cinala opened it up, and tapped a button on the hand-cart. The straps keeping her in place all released at once, and the prisoner stumbled inside. 

Took a step. Then another step. Then… quivering in place, managed to just barely stand.

…until she buckled, and the tigress fell to her side with a loud squeak, cushioned by her cruel and extreme jacket.

Cinala was laughing. “Fuck, you look so silly like this. I can barely believe you’re the same steely-eyed feline who was tormenting us all that time ago. In fact, I don’t think anyone would believe it.” 

She lay down next to the thrashing Phantom, and Cinala leaned her head in one arm. With the other, she pulled out her phone, and flipped to a video.

“In fact, nobody did believe it. This is a video of your lawyer. Ms. Strong arrived looking for you yesterday, and I showed her photos of every single prisoner here. And you know what?”

Phantom’s eyes were wide. Her lawyer was here? And she - she wasn’t being rescued? Her pupils contracted. The world felt smaller. She felt… fear. 

“She didn’t recognize you. And if she doesn’t, well, I don’t think anyone will. What do you think, K-177-EN? What’s on your mind, Kitten?”

“Nngh… nnggooo hhh–iiii-nngga–haaa.”

“I think that you’re pretty doomed, perma-prisoner. I’m afraid to say, you are doomed.”

Phantom would have twitched her lips if they weren’t locked in the plug-gag. That was when Cinala stood up with a squeak, and went over to one of the few things found in the dark cell. A gym bag with a few goodies. First and foremost was a brutal, barbaric plug-gag. Fat, long, sculpted cock and balls. And it was all for her. 

“NNNNGGGH! Hnnn-HNN-HAA-LAAA… NNNGGHOOOO!” 

“Ooooh, I didn’t even say what I was going to do with this. But if you insist, we can fit this down your throat.” 

Good god. The tigress’s mouth bulged. Cheeks bulged in the most intense, overkill gag she’d EVER experienced. Her throat was choking and what little of her could be seen was turning red.  Both cheeks, her entire mouth, and throat, all absolutely filled to the brim. Her gag reflex had been trained out of her, but that didn’t make the horribly intense oral pleasure of being stuffed any less real. 

She shook her head left and right ‘no” the entire time the Warden worked on shoving it down her throat. But, with the inflated collar, that just meant a few millimeters of thrashing her head. Pretty cute. The whole time, tears had welled up, kitten had begged, face contorted, toes flexed, and this little rubberslut experienced ‘fulfillment’ in a way that no prisoner ever had. 

Except for K-177-EN, who was about to experience it twice. 

“I’ve got one more surprise for you, kitten. But I don’t think you’ll be able to handle it. So, leet’s get you secured down here.” 

A heavy strap up to the D-ring on her hooded head would keep her upright. Chains locked to panels in the floor would keep her legs spread at all times - and the extra spreader bar would make it doubly sure. 

“You MIGHT leave this room, but you’re never going to leave this prison. Since you won’t be going far, I’ve even got an extra-heavy metal weight for your tail. This one is 100lbs, but we can add a second one if you get uppity.” 

“NNNGGGH!!!!!!!! NNnnnnngggh…” 

She choked out some sounds that sounded like ‘no,’ and that just got Cinala even hotter. Her nostrils flared, smelling only rubber and the scent of Cinala - now excited. Her eyes had been wide with frustration and anger, but now she was thoroughly transferred to desperate fear.

Please. No. God, no, anything but this. Don’t do this. Let me go. PLEASE.

“There are surprises to come though. For example. Let me point out this nice hatch labeled, “FOR BAD KITTENS” below us. That’s for another day; a day when you act naughty, or when I get bored of you.” 

“NNNGGGH!!! NNN NN NN NNN NNNNNGGGG!” 

“Now now, let’s not get your silly head distracted. Because like I said, this is also about your ‘therapy’ and rehabilitation. As well as my own enjoyment. I know you’ve been denied, denied, denied, denied for so long you probably don’t remember what an orgasm is like. But try to imagine… what it’ll feel like…”

Cinala reached into the bag, and pulled out one last toy. A strap-on that loomed over her like a noose. A colossal cock. A massive member, bigger than anything that Kitten had ever seen. Something that was going to finally do her in; fill and pack the perma-prisoner so much that she knew she wouldn’t be the same creature on the other side. 

“When I fill you up with… this.” 

K-177-EN understood what was going to happen. She was powerless to stop it, able to only stare at the green eyes of her forever captor. She felt Cinala squeezing tight against her, hugging her with cruel affection. Hugging her tight, possessing her, pressing the air and life out of her with her strong, gloved arms. Her head spun from lack of oxygen, felt her womanhood wet with needy anticipation. Cold, terrified realizations crept over her. That Cinala had her  down here, where she wanted her. Where she’d stay. 

Phantom had disappeared. K-177-EN’s eyes rolled back into her head as Cinala enjoyed the crushing, spasming, moaning sensations of victory.