Gromet's Plaza Latex Stories
Answers in the Clouds
by RbrBill
rbrbill2@live.com
© Copyright 2003 - RbrBill - Used by permission
Storycodes: MF/mf; latex; Sbf; bond; mudpit; cons; X
Answers in the Clouds by RbrBill MF/mf; latex; Sbf; bond; mudpit; cons; X
 

Answers in the Clouds
Part Two of Palace in the Clouds

Chapter 1 - Light Sentence and Plans

"Patrice Fugleman, please stand as the verdict is read," the bailiff said.

Patrice Fugleman stood along with her attorney. He held her arm just in case.

"On the charge of kidnapping, we find the defendant 'not guilty'. On the charge of aiding and abetting kidnapping, we find the defendant 'not guilty'. On the charge of accessory to imprisonment, we find the defendant 'guilty'." The foreman handed the verdict sheet to the bailiff.

"It is the judgment of this court that you have been found guilty of the third count of the indictment. The extenuating circumstances that you were still living with your parent at the time of the crime and the fact that the victim chose not to testify as to your level of involvement in the crime and the fact that you have no previous criminal record, it is the determination of the court that you shall serve four years in prison of which thirty months shall be probated if you choose to participate in counselling." The judge gavelled the proceedings closed.

Baron Fugleman was not so fortunate. He received ten years in prison and another ten years probation for his involvement in the consenting slave ring that he was a major figure in. Jan Hiedelman, aka Mistress Esoterica received a similar sentence.

Eighteen months later a rather vengeful Patrice Fugleman emerged from prison. She had been the target of many of the very acts that she had planned on her birthday gift, Shirley Goodwin, aka Mistress Angelhina/Slave 35. Granted the tortures weren't as exquisite as she had planned. There were no fixed facilities to be tied to, no latex suits to be encased in, no rings or piercing studs to adorn the body. But four heavy dykes made no trouble of stretching her open and subjecting her to repeated rapes with broom handles and contraband strap-ons. They made good the time she was in the prison and she nearly broke from her ordeal. Only the thought of revenge against those bumbling Americans that had caused the imprisonment of her father, his friends and most of all herself kept her sanity for even so short a time as eighteen months.

She completed the counselling and she filed away the lessons in that part of the brain labelled "useless". She returned to her father's home in Mannheim. Ironically, the dungeon was completely intact. Even most the clothing was still in its storage. The police had collected some evidence in the form of some bindings and cuffs and ropes, and taken photographs that had caused a little sensation during the trials but not that much. After all this was cosmopolitan Europe.

She spent several weeks moping around the empty house. She went to the dungeon a couple of times a week and dressed in her birthday present gear and would look at the restraining system where she had last seen that bitch, Slave 35, being prepared for permanent servitude. She remembered her moment of triumph falling to pieces as the door burst open and the police rushed in to stop the nose piercing just as it was about to be made. She saw that bitch being released by the cops. She saw the flash of venomous hate as the bitch took a last look into her face. She saw the bitch run to the American agent and give him a hug of relief. It should never have been.

She sat on the restraining saddle and touched her rubbery nipple. She was aroused but unsatisfied. She needed a slave to control, to use, to humiliate to force into complete abject submission. She turned the vibrator in her intimate recess on and rocked in the saddle achieving a slowly rising arousal and orgasm that seemed unfinished. She was flushed with blood but not fulfilled. Her physical need sated but she missed that extra something that made orgasm complete. A tear ran down the inside of her hood as she thought of the missed opportunities to dominate a slave, her slave.

She had started wearing her latex catsuit around the house. It was something her father had frowned on. The latex was restricted to the dungeon in his mind, but the house was empty now and with no expected visitors, why bother getting out of the gear after only an hour or so and go through the cleaning process? It was better to wear it for all day and clean it out before bed, or even occasionally wear it through the night. She did remove her hood before heading back upstairs.

Patrice sat at her computer and began to check her usual websites. She logged into the chat as Mistress Satinica. Once that login had raised a question about whether she was "Satan" in disguise. She said that satin was a wonderfully shiny material that she liked on her bed. Of course someone asked why she was in a rubber room with satin and she replied that satin was shiny to look at but latex went beyond looks and she was a latex lover with just a touch for satin.

The chats and the surfing grew dull after so many times. She started working on finding a slave to train. This was really no easy task. It wasn't just putting a want-ad into the local paper. She made use of contact lists on various Internet sites that specialized in her desire, but even those weren't particularly good. Some person might list a fantasy to be the 24/7 rubber slave to a master or mistress but when the actual opportunity presented itself, the person suddenly realized that fantasy being offered as reality was a much larger step that could be handled. One thing she chose to hide was her most ardent desire to have a slave that she could transform into her personal rubber toy. She knew what she really wanted but was willing to be much slower in proceeding with her plan should she find a likely candidate for her household.

She decided that her slave would first learn to be complete loyal, subservient and admiring then she could work on her other plans, maybe plant the seeds of fantasy into the slave's head so that the idea to do her wishes blossomed in the slave's mind. But she had to find the slave first. Then one day she stumbled on THE website. The website advertised a sensual journey into the alluring world of latex guided by Mistress Angelhina and her staff. She clicked on the bios of the people and saw that Mistress Angelhina had trained under the Mistress Esoterica in Germany. Her staff members had also been in the employ of Mistresses Esoterica and Ursula where they learned the fine art of rubber pleasure, passion and exploration.

"Through the intimate touch of latex you discover your most inner feelings. Luxuriate in the natural beauty of Northern Luzon in this private getaway. Revel in the mists from March through November or enjoy the beauty of the crisp morning air and spectacular vistas from December through February. It's always springtime at 6,000 feet and never too hot at the Palace in the Clouds..." or so the introductory page said.

Now Patrice saw a new purpose. She would save her ultimate plans for the "One Slave" and she knew who "The One" was. It would be this Mistress Angelhina who had to be Slave 35 or "Rubber Toy". The coincidence was just too much for these people not to be the very same people who had caused her world to come crashing down over a year before. Now she wanted to build a small army of followers who would worship her. They would want nothing but to serve her as rubber slaves. But she also wanted them to be able to help her with a plan to infiltrate and to capture the owners of this place and to convert the masters of the place into humiliated rubber lust slaves. She could even see the irony of moving to the place permanently and keeping her slaves forever rubberized for her pleasure within the very walls they had lived in as masters.

Of course her plans went beyond just rubberization. She intended to make permanent modifications to her slaves to facilitate their purpose as slave/toys. She researched some of the more esoteric aspects of body function modification. People could live on nourishment through intravenous methods. They could have various surgeries done that would remove sections of the digestive system or completely change the function. She thought of placing her charges in total rubber occlusion, permanent sealed state of rubberization.

For these plans, she needed professional help. She knew that she had to acquire a private physician with the knowledge to carry out her plans and with a matching penchant for her desire to so totally enslave her intended victims. Ultimately, she would have "The One" permanently enclosed in a rubber world, preferably beneath her own bed. The blinded face would be set in her mattress. There would be no breathing openings in the face, they wouldn't be needed since "The One" would have her breathing tubes entering the rectum and passing through the shortened intestines and stomach to the esophageus.

Fluids and nourishment would be handled by IV drips, permanent needles inserted in the veins of the inner leg and tubing passing out of the same opening as the air passage. There would be no solid wastes to speak of and those few generated would be channelled between the breathing tube and the intestine walls to an attached relief tube that would pass out of her suit. The urethra would be catheterized and that tube passed through the same opening as all of the other tubing. The umbilical system of tubes would be gathered and passed out of the rear of her suit and to the various parts of the life support system.

An inflated gag in the mouth would hold the studded tongue against the mouth floor when "The One" wasn't required for service. The deflated gag would allow the tongue to service any pussy that might be locked to the bed or swallow any cock that might need service. The toothless mouth would provide amazing service to the lucky cock inside it. The simplicity of control would be as easy as cutting off the air supply until "The One" responded to the desires of the mistress/master.
"The One's" labia would have seven rings pierced into each lip. Rubber cord lacing would additionally seal the opening over the thick dildo inserted inside. Maybe "The One" would be allowed an occasional pleasure of stimulation of her ring pierced clit; more likely a chain would be attached to the clit ring and pulled through "The One's" crotch and connected to a ring attached to the hollow butt plug that served as the breathing tube rectal passage. Anytime "The One" might shift her position the tension would rake the chain across the laced lips of her pussy. What a tantalizingly painful thought!

Oh, yes. Mistress Satinica had some very special plans for "The One." But for now these thoughts of having "The One" service her each night were but mere dreams and to make such dreams reality would take careful planning.

The first thing Patrice had to do was build a team of loyal servants. They would be slaves, but she needed them to feel they were paid servants and free, only the reward of staying with her had to be so great that they wouldn't ever want to leave. She hated the thought of postponing her true desires of domination for those followers of "The One" but it couldn't be helped. She needed people who still functioned in the outside world for her plan. These people would likely be her head slaves once her plans were fulfilled. Granted some would probably piss her off in the course of their relationship and thus be candidates to join "The One" in permanent rubber encapsulation or perhaps a slightly less fate as permanent rubberized servitude.

This was a challenge! You just don't place an advert in the local paper saying, "Submissive person to be live-in servant. Mandatory wear of latex while in the employ of this demanding but fair employer; ability to obey dominant mistress without reservations and accept any humiliation without question a requirement. Rewards will be commensurate with level of obedience."

Well, it would be nice if the Mannheim Daily Clarion ran ads like that but it was obviously not to be. She did put this ad into the underground sheets that catered to the BDSM crowd but she still had to be careful in selecting any of those whom might apply for the positions. She also worked the Internet sources. She placed ads in various discussion rooms and sites and waited for any promising e-mails. And she waited and waited and waited...

Meantime, she had a well-equipped dungeon and she had a fair knowledge of the practice so she decided to start a small business. She was aware that the arrest of her dad and the others had left a void in the local fetish domination scene. She figured she could practice and refine her less severe desires on the poor unfortunates left without guidance. She might even find a recruit for her permanent staff among them, maybe some miserable schmuck who was completely lost in life. She surely knew how to find direction for one of those.

But troubling dreams kept her from finishing a full night's rest. She was often the subject of the punishment in the dreams. She lusted to have the punishment, the forced dildo, the forced gag...she had doubts of her own position as the dominant. It was the time in jail haunting her mind. The deep corner that had succumbed to the brutality in the prison wanted reward. She began to dabble into self-bondage as a way to satisfy that little corner lurking under her psyche. She searched out the local tattoo and piercing artists and began to have various body parts pierced. She had a tongue stud. She had her nipples pierced with rings. She had her belly button pierced. She had her clitoris pierced...now that one really hurt but then felt soooooo good.

She gained understanding as to what her future slaves might endure and she realized that it was small sacrifice for a goddess. She even tested hanging some weights from the nipple rings. That hurt! The pain would initially shock her into awareness then the dull ache spread beyond her nipples and embraced her breasts in erotic pleasure/pain. The clit stud so enhanced her feel that she was almost in constant arousal from its movement. A minor flick of the stud sent delicious shudders through her body. She wondered about a ring in its place...perhaps a short length of silver chain from clit, between the labia and terminating in the base of a butt plug.She shocked herself with these thoughts of self-bondage and masochistic pleasure. Yet it didn't seem so shocking. Without someone to try her ideas on, she was suddenly looking to herself for inspiration and for completion. She really needed a permanent slave, or maybe she needed to have a permanent mistress/master to challenge her desires. These were such surprising thoughts for her. She shuddered and smiled at them then went about preparing for her regular evening ritual.

Chapter 2 - Binding Desires - A Journey Begins

It had been a hard day. She saw no one worth trying to persuade to join her in the quest to gain her vengeance. She even began to fret that it might be years, at least until Daddy and Mistress Esoterica were released from jail before she might even have a chance to obtain her vengeance. And that thought left her cold. She wanted this to be her own reward, a gift that she could present to Daddy and Esoterica when they were released. No she had to put together a plan and soon. Meantime, she would place herself into the torturous bondage that she had been carefully planning for several weeks and think out her plans.

Self-Bondage is an art of itself and Mistress Satinica had devised as wonderful a bondage routine as ever conceived. She made use of the dungeon left at her disposal when released from jail. The contents were pretty much left intact since it was her father's private property. The yellow crime scene tape had long since been removed but the memories of that day were still vivid. There was the doctor poised over her slave toy about to permanently install the first visible sign of submission into her rubber toy as the doors burst open and the cops rushed in on the scene.

Satinica powders her body after completing her shower. The white stuff dusts her skin and falls in a little shower of white pools on the black tile floor under her feet. She fits the catheter tube into her urethra. It has a very special purpose in her self-bondage that she finds deliciously erotic. Making sure the catheter tube is secure; she slowly pulls up the panties. These are high waist panties with a thick top. The panties have two very nice sheaths that she pushes into her ass and pussy. She works the catheter tube through the tiny opening above the vaginal sheath and glues it in place. She feels the rubber sliding past her clit stud and shudders involuntarily. She pushes the first vibrator into the lubricated sleeve that is in her ass. She pushes the thick thing slowly past her anus and then feels her muscles close over the narrow base of the thing. It plants itself firmly inside her. She slowly slides the second vibrator into its position inside her tight pussy. She feels her lips part to accept the thing and moans as it rakes against the clit stud that is hidden behind the rubber. Having invested in remote control vibrators allows the things to be locked under the layers of rubber she's putting on without any unsightly bulges or control switches.

Next she pulls on a pair of latex stockings. She rolls them onto each leg, sheathing them in glossy black rubber. The tight rolled tops press her thighs and pinch at her pussy lips. She then rolls a long waist corselet up her legs. The short legs of the thing lock the stocking in place and push the vibrators further into her hidden openings. She continues to roll the corselet up her body, past her hips and over her flat belly. The thing reaches her pierced nipples. At this point she removes the two nipple rings but only to pull the breast cups of the corselet into place. She slips her arms through the straps of the corselet and adjusts the breast cups carefully. She sees the little punctures from previous sessions line up with the base of her nipples. Her arousal is almost automatic as she pushes her nipple rings through the rubber, her nipples and closes the thin silver latches.

She admires her body now sheathed in rubber from breast to toe. She slowly draws the shoulder length gloves up her arms, encasing each lithe limb in shiny black rubber. She almost feels like she is looking at some molten tar covered stranger. She then draws on the crew collar rubber tee shirt that completes the first layer of rubber from her neck to her toes. All of this ritual seems moot since she knows there are more layers to add. She slowly polishes the rubber skin even though it will be hidden. She then adds latex tape to the seams at the top of her legs and at the top of her arms. She begins to pull on the catsuit. She slowly draws the tight latex up her already sheathed feet and legs, relishing in the additional tight caress the rubber skin provides. As she pulls the suit to her crotch, she pushes the catheter tube through the tiny opening in the suit made just for the tube. This catsuit has no convenience zipper in the crotch since she has no need for access during this bondage. She uses a little rubber cement to secure the tube to the reinforced opening. The plastic connector sticks absurdly out of her shiny black-sheathed Venus spot. It's full purpose will reveal itself soon enough. She pulls the sleeves of the catsuit up each arm slowing to prolong the delicious feel of the tight latex squeezing her skin. Oh the caress in indescribable to anyone unfamiliar with the soft touch from tight rubber. She works the fitted gloves attached to the sleeves over her hands and makes sure any excess air is squeezed from the sleeves.

She admires the little round crease below her hard nipples that reminds her she has two silver rings passing through her sensitive globes. Each time she moves in the suit, tiny latex nubs built into the cups actually pull each ring and cause delightful pricks of pain from the bases of the hard buttons. She takes the gag with the drinking tube and pushes it into her mouth. It almost dislocates her jaw to push the bulk of it in place but once past her teeth, the customized flange allows her teeth to close on it. She pulls on the first hood, a very heavy latex hood with eye and nose openings and a small hole for the gag tube. Since the gag is not inflatable, there is no facial distortion but its size and shape is such that her mouth is completely filled and her tongue is pressed between the floor of her mouth and the small hollow base of the gag. The heavy hood keeps her from opening her mouth even a little. She can barely swallow and she knows she will later have to be careful when she drinks her water. She pushes the base of the hood neck under the tee shirt then finishes pulling the catsuit into place. She reaches behind the catsuit and finds the lanyard attached to the zipper and pulls it up. As her arms reach behind her and her chest pushes out against the suit, the nipple rings drag the inner surface with sensual arousal. She shivers in anticipation as she plans her next layer.

Mistress Satinica is looking carefully at her victim in the mirror. Oddly, she sees the shiny rubber figure as another person, even though she knows she is looking at her own image. She fingers the remote control to the vibes now buried under two tight rubber layers and wonders how she will handle the continuous assault of the things on her orifices. She is aware that once she switches them on and she finishes her bondage, that there will be no relief until nature deems the ordeal to be finished. She sets the controls on the floor near the base of the bondage saddle. The bondage saddle is the centerpiece in the dungeon. It held her rubber toy for weeks until that fateful day. It will hold the rubber toy, The One, again some day. For now it will serve as a self-bondage device for her personal pleasure. Both she, as Mistress Satinica, and that other corner of her mind, Slave Patrice, will share in the bondage and the pleasure.

She pulls on the corset that will clamp her middle in its heavy rubber and steel embrace. She fits the thing over her flared hips and under her round rubberized mounds. She slowly starts to pull the strings tight. It's slow work as her gloved fingers seek leverage. Fortunately she only has to pull the strings "hand tight". She walks to the wall device and after setting her feet in the clamps in the floor; she leans across the waist high padded board and attaches the auto pullers lines to the corset strings. Through a series of pulleys, she merely reaches to the hand winch device and begins to crank. Her waist presses against the rail and she has to fight to keep her back straight but the things slowly closes a bit more. She keeps turning as sweat forms under her suits and her heat builds as the corset clamps tightly to her waist, torso and lower chest. Her breathing quickens as the increasing vice grip crushes her any remaining will to resist the rubber bondage. Finally, it's enough. She grabs the corset laces in her hand and releases the puller lines. She fumbles to tie off the laces before they slip too much and succeeds on the first attempt. She remembers how the first time she tried the device she had to redo the tightening process three times before she was able to keep the laces from slipping open too much.

Now she fumbles for the boots. She wishes she could put them on before the corset but the wicked heels make standing at the corset rail too uncertain a proposition. Still she has learned to use the mirror, a nice long puller and one of the gripper things that old people who cannot stoop any longer use to pick things up. She places the left foot into the boot. The long heavy latex leg lies lifelessly on the floor. She uses the gripper to catch the top on the boot and lifts it within reach of her free hand. She grabs the top and holds it to the top of her thigh. Then she uses the gripper to grab the lanyard attached to the side zip of the boot. She pulls the gripper to her hand holding the boot top and grabs the lanyard between two fingers. This is quite tricky since she can only see what she is doing as the reflection in the mirror. She sets the gripper down within easy reach and uses the free hand to grab the lanyard and pull up the zipper. Her leg slowly feels the tight grip of the thick latex boot as the zipper closes. The tops of the boot are right in her crack and lightly pinching her hot swollen mons. She repeats the process with the right boot and now rests as she relishes the new sensation of rubber surrender offered by the thick rubber encasing her from toe to just below her breasts. She removes the lanyards from the zipper tongues.

She quickly pulls on a second heavy hood, this one with gas mask tubing and filters. The mouth tube on her gag fits into the drinking tube on the gas mask face. Her eyes glow from behind the eyelets of the mask. Her breathing is heavy in her ears. She sets the remaining items for her bondage within easy reach of the front of the saddle. She looks at the device and studies the minor modifications she made to accommodate the self-bondage. She shudders involuntarily and feels a surge of arousal course through her body as she ponders those final steps that will place her into irreversible bondage until nature runs its course. Mistress Satinica smiles at the thought; Slave Patrice's eyes show apprehension. She shudders again as these conflicting thoughts work through the same brain so easily and wonders at the meaning.

She starts on the final steps of her journey. She slips her booted feet into the locking stirrups at the back of the saddle. She makes sure they are comfortably set from the device so her hips bend over the thing correctly, just below the lower edge of the corset. She feels her ass vulnerably sticking in the air as she settles into the position. She remembered using Rubber Toy in so many ways while she was locked into the bondage of this device. Now she stands again after checking the position of the feet and attaches the catheter tube to the urine bag that hangs from the release handle of the ratchet lever. She thinks back to her test of the system, putting the bondage straps into tension and adding water to the bag to see when its weight pulled the lever down and released the tension of the device. The bag had filled to four liters before the arm slipped from the ratchet gears. Four liters, how long would it take for her to piss four liters into the bag. That was one question she didn't know.

Her pee bag connected she leans back over the saddle. She slips her arms into the shoulder harness and begins to pull the straps tight. She feels the tight leather harness bite into her latex clad shoulders and shudders as she steps further along the path of her self-imposed bondage and trip of discovery. She uses her still free arms to work the ratchet wheel of the harness tension and slowly stretch her across the saddle. The ratchet pulls a little trolley that has the arm sleeve on it and the chain attached to the shoulder harness along a floor slot. Even as it stretches her across the saddle, she knows that the sleeve can still be reached when the time comes to insert her wrists. It is one of the tests of the system she checked earlier. Mistress Satinica takes control and keeps tugging the thing tighter and tighter. one click at a time the ratchet adds stress to her stretched body. Suddenly Mistress Satinica gives one last shove of the ratchet and her body screams in agony as the ratchet slips past three notches. Her panting fills her head. Her stretched body sends incredible messages to her mind. The initial surge of pain settles into a calming surrender to the bondage. She feels her hot arousal pulsing in her loins.

Now she reaches for the drinking tube that sits beneath her arms. It terminates inside a ten-liter bottled water cooler. She looks in the mirror to find the connector to the gas mask/hood and pushes the tube home. She sucks at the tube and is rewarded with cool, sweet water. Had the water not reached her throat she would have released the ratchet lever with her free hands. Still she knows she can turn back from this thing but the Slave Patrice side of her only want surrender and the Mistress Satinica side of her commands the deed be done. She picks up the collar and straps it around her neck. Now her head is locked in a tilt that allows her to see only the mirror image of her bound and aroused body. The sleeve for her hands waits her final commitment to the bondage.

The sleeve is basically a rubber tube that both hands fit in. It is set in a slot on the racking trolley of the saddle. It moves freely about three inches. There are two wide straps inside the tube that the wrists slip into. The straps are attached to a tension bracket. Once she pushes a button at the front edge of the bracket, a motor pulls the bracket out of the sleeve, drawing the straps tight locking her wrists snugly in the sleeve. When the shoulders aren't under tension from the rack, the sleeve can be pushed along the slot to allow a finger from one of the bound hands to reach the tension bracket motor switch to reverse the tension for release. As long as she is in the bondage of the saddle, it is impossible to reach the tension arm motor control and release the wrists.

She slips her hands into the sleeve and feels the straps with her fingers. She works the straps over each hand and feels the wide fabric on each wrist. She still can turn back. Mistress Satinica demands her to continue. Slave Patrice shudders at the thought. She picks up the remote for the vibrators that she placed inside the sleeve earlier. She pushes the button and the two things erupt to life. In the initial wave she drops the remote with a sudden jerk. It falls away from her hands by about 10 centimetres. Now her arousal takes on a new shot of power. Her body is in dull painful immobility. The eyes see only a rubberized slave to passion. The things buried inside her send explosive pulses through her entire inner being, only one thing remains and before she even realizes what she does, she pushes the button on the tension bar and her wrist are locked in place. She is now in her personal pleasure bondage. A bondage of her own making and she explodes in pulsing orgasm as the thrill of what she has done sinks into her deepest conscious.

The exploding orgasm ebbs, flows and rises again. She bites the gag as her groans of pleasure try to escape around the gag and her lips. She tenses and pulses within the limits of the bondage. She pulls at her restraints. She feels the straps cutting into her wrists. She feels the shoulder straps refusing to give as she pulls against them. Her legs squeeze and she pulls her feet in vain efforts to escape. The pulsing wave subsides and she remains stretched. Every muscle and nerve is tight as a violin string. She feels someone could pluck her skin and resonating harmony would spill from her deepest recesses. The two probes continue to pulsate inside her. She feels a second building eruption of carnal lust and cannot stop the ride even if she wants, which she doesn't...yet. The pulsing and throbbing clit and vulva center her entire focus. The pain of the bondage only adds to the center of pleasure. She bites the gag hard as she plateaus then climbs another steep rise before plunging into an abyss of pure ecstasy. She thrusts on the saddle, bucking as best she can under the bondage, driving the pulsing pleasure sticks deeper inside her. She realizes that the tightened straps keep her from reaching the control to the vibes. She'll endure endless arousal and climax until the batteries die or she pees enough to cause the ratchet fulcrum lever to slip from the devilishly evil device that holds her.

Chapter Three - The Palace in the Clouds

Mistress Angelhina enjoyed the solitude of the morning mist that swirled around her mountain in September. The cool mist caressed her latex clothing and slowly condensed in pearly drops as she basked in its purity. Bill kneeled expectantly at her feet. She was only realizing to what depth his desire to serve had gone in recent months. He seemed to enjoy being part of the dominating side of the game when they had first come to the mountain three years before but now he only desired to serve only his beloved mistress. He was never more than a few feet from her side or sitting expectantly at her feet. She soon learned that he would leap to serve her needs and desires without question and she revelled in the knowledge that he was completely loyal to her and rubber.

Right now he was licking the toes of her boots and slowly working his tongue up her leg. She put a hand under his hooded chin and lifted it up. She gazed into his eyes and saw nothing but pure devotion, love and admiration. How could she be so lucky to have married this fellow so many years before and how had she been so naïve not to understand the full meaning of his rubber fetish until only a few years ago. She pulled his head to her lap and he opened the zip and started to lick at the sweet nectar under the rubber. She thought to stop him but her arousal grew so quickly that she had to give in to the sheer pleasure of his adoring ministrations. She shuddered in a slow pulsating orgasm as the mist settled on her rubberized form. She took her gloved hand and worked on Bill's crotch, found his sheathed hardness buried under the layers and rubbed him until he drove his tongue deeper inside her pulsing flower. She came again in the knowledge that he had reached his own passion and fresh spunk was lubricating the sheath his now relieved cock slid in. He pulled away from her as she pushed at his hood and closed her zipper. He then nestled against her lap and let her lightly stroke his shiny hooded head with her gloved hands. His gloves teased her thigh, leg and ankle as they sat silently in their own thoughts and waited for the sun to show its first signs of defeating the morning mist.

How many years had slipped by since that day of rescue? Not even three! She had immediately come to this place after the rescue, bringing Bill, her sister and husband. Tom Grant showed up about three months after that. The two Japanese girls, Kochi and Hiryo, who had been rescued at the same time went back to Japan but showed up at the mountain only six months later looking for a home. She had a vision to build a premier resort founded on the desire to explore and broaden the sexual nature of latex. Amazingly the plan had succeeded almost beyond her wildest dreams. Now she had brought in James Mathews, formerly of the Naval Investigative Service, as her Chief of Security. He just sort of wandered in about a year after the rescue. He wanted to know if the feelings he had felt stirring when she hugged him were real or not. The decision to stay seemed to answer that burning question.

It was Tuesday and there were no guests at the moment so everyone else was sleeping late. Dan and Julietta had finished a long session in one of the fuck pits. They were probably out for the count, buried inside their latex sleeping suits and bag. Angelhina knew they would be useless for at least 36 hours; 24 hours in the fuck pit was known to do that. In addition to the pits, which she had copied from those wonderfully wicked pits that Mistress Esoterica had, she also had a dungeon that contained three of the bondage saddles, which she had endured in her weeks of captivity at the hands of Master Fugleman and his bitchy daughter. She actually had Julietta place her in the same garments and rack her across the saddle for a few hours every once in a while just for the sheer pleasure of enduring the memory that was so painfully erotic. Of course, it was never quite the same as the incredible terror lust she had endured the day of rescue, the day she was about to become a permanently ringed slave to the bitch daughter. She often felt a stirring of lustful trepidation and fear at the thought of how that story might have ended. A dark corner of her mind sometimes wondered at the esoteric tests of pain, endurance and sensuality all rolled into an unending arousal that stretched to infinite that she would have been subjected to had the bitch succeeded with her plans.

Jim was out making his rounds in the 4X4. They always had to watch for bandits or Muslim Rebels. Those were pretty scarce on the North end of Luzon, but such a remote place often drew bad types. Once Jim caught some fellows trying to climb the compound wall. He let them drop into the place and cuffed them before they knew what hit them. Upon contacting the local National Police Post, the suggestion from the police was to hold them in the most secure way until they, the police, could find time to come out to pick them up. Jim took that suggestion to heart and the two fellows spent three days in total rubber enclosure and sensory deprivation bondage before the cops showed up. The two were babbling about having found their paradise and it DIDN'T have 70 virgins but was populated with rubbery visions of lust when the cops took them away. No one told the cops that the fellows were subjected to continual genital stimulation while they were held inside the heavy rubber suits and bondage sacks. For that matter no one mentioned the suits or the bondage sacks, though the local cops, along with many of the locals people, already had some idea of what went on inside the walls. Though Jim would meet any outsiders that were not planned guests in street clothing, Mistress Angelhina never showed herself to anyone in any clothing other than her catsuit with some other latex garment over it. The locals knew the palace in the Clouds to be a place of untold animal pleasures that seemed to always involve rubber.

Kochi and Hiryo were somewhere inside. They typically spent slow days learning more about their craft, erotic rubber stimulation and bondage. This learning was most often practiced on each other. They had grown into quite a fond couple and the guests loved it when the two rubbery lesbian nymphs lavished them with their attention while working each other into aroused passion that always resulted in erotic ecstasy for anyone involved in the game. Tom was most likely out with Jim. He had become the assistant security chief and chief financial officer of the enterprise. He also wanted to know if the two girls were true lesbian or bi. He fervently hoped for the latter. Though the girls often were part of the scene with the paying customers, Mistress Angelhina made it quite clear that the staff had to earn any favors from each other through mutual friendship, respect and love. She didn't want any master/slave relationships that were contrived or forced within the staff.

As for the business of providing alternative opportunities to express ones deepest desires, it was booming by some indicators. The guests came in trickles for the most part but there were enough to generate a fairly solid cottage industry in the town in the valley at the base of the mountain. Several local tailors had been provided special instructions on the making of latex clothing. The reason was simple. A typical guest often wanted to take a wardrobe home after tasting the special love of the Palace. Mistress Angelhina bought volts of sheet latex from Europe and sold them at cost to local tailors along with providing the special instructions on cutting and gluing latex sheets and seams for clothing. The resulting business provided a nice income to the locals and fostered a developing friendship with the locals.

Not that what went on at the Palace was considered evil by the local population, on the contrary all manner of eccentricities are overlooked by the typical Filipino in the quest to maintain harmony. However, Mistress Angelhina hoped that the new industry would pique the interest of more people. She was fervently convinced that the more people understood her colony's peculiarities, the better off everyone would be. Even she admitted that her years of blind rejection had cost her many of the pleasures that she now rejoiced in. She even saw the possibility of the Philippines becoming a leading supplier of reasonable custom latex clothing for a growing community of believers. The tailors were happy to oblige the whims of the customers who came off the mountain. One of the first things they discovered was these people were willing to pay lots of money for the clothes they made. The typical cost of latex for a catsuit ran about 2000 Pesos or about 40 dollars. They would measure and make a suit in about three days and the customer was willing to pay over $500 for the resulting catsuit. Mistress Angelhina had set a price of $300 for the work and the tailors understood the strategy and were perfectly happy with the amount.

The customers came and went. Many customers returned to experience something they failed to find anyplace else. No one was aware of the release of Patrice a half a world away, nor did they really care. Life was too precious to waste on such things, especially when there were so many new paths to explore in their new profession. So the average morning broke at the Palace in the Clouds

"Time to clean the house," said Mistress Angelhina.

Bill got up from his worship of his mistress and went to put on the gauntlets, hip waders and apron for his chores. He didn't really need to dress in these heavy garments today since there were really no heavy messes to clean but he loved the heavy rubber layers over his enclosure suit and put them on any time he could. He went about completing the light scrubbing needed for the bath and shower rooms. Again, no guests meant very little to clean. Kochi and Hiryo were busy fixing the morning meal. Each meal was taken on a very set schedule and all of the intimate members of the Palace sat at the table to eat. Eating was of course a matter of subjectivity. Bill, Angelhina, Kochi and Hiryo tended to stick with liquid meals that could be eaten without removing any of the latex gear. They would sit hidden behind the masks and hoods and suck thick broth through the tubes. Mistress Angelhina would make a comment or two about the quality of the broth, her voice muted by the voicemitter of the mask. The other three who took meals this way regularly sucked at their broth in silence. Gags tended to curtail conversation.

About half of the time, Julietta and Dan would also decide not to remove their masks at meals. Then they would join the four more passionate rubberists in broth. The rest of the time they came to meals with their hoods off and took the solid fare served to Mathews and Grant. Both of these two had not quite taken to a 24/7 lifestyle in latex and were more than happy to remove hoods or gloves just about any time they could. They had taken to wearing a catsuit whenever they weren't in their own rooms though Mathews sometimes wore the catsuit under street clothes. Bill would clean the kitchen and do the dishes, always wearing the heavy protective gear, while the others went off to do other mundane chores. Typically, Hiryo and Kochi had the task to make up beds and collect used latex for cleaning. When there were guests, this could take all morning. A day like today meant they would finish about mid-morning and they were already letting their thoughts wander ahead to what pleasures they could test or what naughty trouble they might be able to get into once the chores were done.

Bill had his own little pleasure ready for after chores were done. He had secretly had one of the tailors in town take two pairs of hip waders and add catsuit tops to them. One was made for him. The second suit for Angelhina. He had also been busy digging a pit behind the main house. Angelhina asked about it once and he used his message pad to tell her it was a new waste pit. Now he had the thing ready. The pit was about six feet deep, ten feet long and six feet wide. He had put a hose into the pit and started the water while he loosely filled it in with finely sifted dirt from the initial excavation. The resulting goop was a quicksand that would put fear into anyone. In his mind, it was a slice of heaven on earth for a heavy rubberist with a kink for wading and mud.

A SCBA (self-contained breathing apparatus) quality air compressor sat near the pit and filled a pressure tank that was connected to the breathing hose that went to a regulator on the inlet port of a modified gasmask/respirator hood. The pressure regulated air would ease the ability to breathe under the pressing muck. All he had to do was put on the new suit, add a respirator hood with nice long air hoses on the inlet and outlet ports and a collar to seal the hood to the suit. Then just slide into the pit and let the quicksand suck him under. That was a glorious plan. If Angelhina came in with him they could drop under the surface and he would surely find a way to give her total ecstasy as the heavy goop pressed their suits close to their bodies forcing out any trapped air, and pushed the rubber protecting gear right into their personal openings. Bill showed Mistress Angelhina the pit and held the suits for her inspection.

"You want me to put that on and go into that mud?" She asked.

Bill nodded.

"I'll have to think about that. Why don't you show me what you have in mind?"

Bill made quick work of putting on his suit and closing the zip. He taped the zipper to seal the suit the pulled on the hood/mask combination. He put on the collar to seal his neck. He hooked the tubes to a pool float and slipped into the muck. He sank into the pit until he was up to his shoulders in the muck then he dropped out of sight. The only visible sign of Bill was the little ripple closing over the spot he went under and the floating pair of tubes. Before going under Bill had written that at any sign of stress, he would pull the exhaust tube under the muck. The exhaust tube had a bright orange tip on it so if the orange disappeared that was time to pull Bill out by the safety harness he had attached loosely under his arms. Angelhina watched the tubes with fascination and wondered what Bill could possibly get from this type of activity. Dan and Julietta wandered over to see what the show was all about.

Angelhina pointed into the muck, "Bill is under there. He expects me to join him but I have absolutely no desire to climb into that muck, even with this new suit he made for me." She pointed at the suit next to her. Julietta looked at the suit. Suddenly she moved to pick it up and was dressing before anyone moved. Dan realized her intent and helped her close the thing up. He added the hood/mask and the collar and she was ready for the muck.

Dan wrote a short message on his pad, "Julietta has always fantasized about wading into muck like this. She thinks it'd be so erotic to have mud pressing her body. It'll be our secret. We'll pull her out first and Bill will never know it wasn't you!"

Julietta looked like a kinky deep-sea diver. The shiny rubber suit, a throw back to the early dry suits that had recently become such popular items in the fringe rubber scene. She gave a thumbs-up sign as she checked her breathing and sat on the edge of the pit. She slipped her feet into the muck then slipped off the edge. With a gurgle, the tan slime swallowed her shiny black figure. Only a few bubbles and ripples remained to reveal her descent into the pit; that and the bright orange and dull black tubes of the breathing system that were floating above the surface.

The dark press of the muck had Bill floating in a private world of ecstasy. He hoped that Angelhina would join him but he also knew she wasn't really into the mudlarking type of fantasy. Still he knew that if she were to taste the erotic feel of the press of the muck against the body and the way that the latex was pressed into each crevice and cranny of the body, she would perhaps appreciate why this experience caused such pleasure. He likened the experience to a mud bath without the trouble of the mucky clean upon of the body later. Here it was a matter of peeling off the outer layer after it gets a good spraying and the cleanup is done. He settled into the press and let his mind go blank. His senses dulled to the constant pressure of the slime. His breathing slowed. His heart rate slowed. He almost felt he was floating in a state of suspended animation. Still he felt the flutter of awakening arousal in his groin and knew that he would soon be breathing harder, his heart rate would rise and he would be surging toward the need for carnal satisfaction.

He loved to feel the building desire inside his gut and keep his hands away from the one spot that would complete his journey. He loved the feel of anticipation as his cock swelled and pre-cum leaked into the sheath. He felt the head of his tool sliding inside the sheath and knew his pre-cum spread inside the tight rubber sheath. His hands wandered to the bulge hidden in the pressing dark and he gave a little brush of the bulge. He was balanced on the knife-edge of explosion, teetering above the final plunge into rapturous bliss. Suddenly his inner focus was jarred by the presence of another person in his pit. The small hand of another touched his chest. He reached for the presence and found or should say felt soft curves of his Angelhina. He immediately stroked her breasts through the thick ooze. His hand found her rubber-sheathed flower and he stroked the surface lightly.

Hands came to his bulge and rested on it. They slowly stroked the hard shaft and he felt a rush to ecstasy as he realized that his true love had taken the first step into the amazing world of thick muddy enclosure. His breath came in short bursts as his heat rose to a pinnacle and again teetered. The pause of the hand; his thrust of hips to the resting pressure; his own hand stroking vigorously at the crack between the two rubberized thighs, the building tension felt in the thighs; the sudden lunge as body spiked in convulsion and the other small hand pushed the back of his hand deeper into the crack; the thrashing in the pressing muck as the rubbery nymph exploded in a long triumphant passion; his own tensing and building explosion that finally and inexorably flooded from his groin in furious lust. He panted hard into the mask. His air flow seemed restricted. Suddenly he couldn't get enough air, though the flow wasn't changed. He kicked and bucked and wrapped his arms tightly around the hot body next to him. He wanted to kiss and knew the masks and breathing tubes and mud prevented any such sign of love. He nuzzled mask face to mask face and stroked the invisible head of his lover in mud.

Gradually the heart rate slowed, the breathing returned to normal, the pressing mud felt less stifling and as his mind dulled from the monotony of the surrounding muck, he drifted into exhausted sleep with his arms tightly wrapped around his muddy companion. Julietta was shocked at how quickly her arousal peaked and she thrust hard against Bill's hand to sate her primal desire of animal lust. The orgasmic wave ebbed and flowed through her body as she rode his hand hard. She pressed her entire lap into that hand, drove her rubbery tummy to his chest, arched her back above his head then collapsed in a pile of jelly as her muscles sagged in elated victory of the body. Her pulse slowed and she snuggled to Bill glad for the rest her exhausted body needed so badly. Angelhina just smiled and watched the show. From her perspective the muddy surface churned as the two rubber-mud lovers thrashed in the throws of unbridled lust and passion.

"Give them a few hours to rest then take Julietta out first and clean her up. I want to be here when you pull Bill out." Angelhina went off to check on the love nymphs, Kochi and Hiryo.

Chapter 4 - First 24 Hours

Slave Patrice aches all over. Her tendons scream for relief. The things inside her pulsate with mechanical precision. No relief is in sight. She knows only another cum is approaching. She tenses in anticipation. She grits her teeth in the gag and ohhhhhhhhh the thing ripples through her body and feels sooooooo good. She lost count hours before; she only knows she must anticipate, agonize, endure and rejoice the almost automatic animal response to the continuous stimulation of her fiendish bondage. Mistress Satinica looks at her Slave in the mirror and laughs to herself as she sees the urine bag isn't even half full yet. The Slave has drunk plenty of water. The cooler appears to be just over half full. She calculates it will be at least as long from "now" as it was to "now" before the urine bag is full enough for the release lever to trip. Oh, how delicious for Slave Patrice to endure another period of "now", whatever that is!

Mistress Satinica watches as Slave Patrice shudders again. Her cum isn't anything like the strength of the first ones but exhaustion must be taking its toll. Still the view is worth the price of admission as she studies the reflection of the mirror. She is completely intimate with the device Slave Patrice is in. She knows every crevice. She knows every worn crack of the saddle padding. She knows the bite of the harness. She knows the tight grip of the wrist sleeves. She knows the grip of the ankle bindings. She designed each modification of the saddle with just one thought, to provide a completely inescapable bondage that would last until the course of nature completed its winding path. Slave Patrice feels the surge of pee as she slowly slides off the peak of ecstasy from her last cum. She opens her bladder and lets the hot gush of piss course through the urethra and into the catheter tube. How many more times will she need to do this before the lever releases? She takes in careful gulps of water to speed the process along. She feels her hot body and the slick sweat that is a result of her bondage. The sweat is in direct competition with her need to pee and she wonders, not for the first time, if the water supply is enough.

Mistress Satinica mocks the image thinking, "How ironic it will be if the water supply runs out before the pee bag is full enough to release the lever." Slave Patrice will be in quite a mess if that happens and I don't think I'll help her either. Patrice ponders how she has split her mind so completely since this bondage began unknown hours before. She slowly sinks into an exhausted sleep. It is her second nap since this all began. She knows it will last only a short time. The pulsing rods inside her ass and pussy provide erotic accompaniment to her sleep-deprived state. The tight rubber clothing and strict bondage only enhance her desires to find direction and control in her life.

After the first two massive orgasms, she had been in such a state of arousal that her mind was tumbling with ideas for revenge on The One. Mistress Satinica knew exactly what The One would have to endure, what new and devilish ideas for total rubber bondage and occlusion might work. She even pictured The One being locked under a flowing latex gown. The One would be on a little trolley, her arms and legs all bound and tucked against her folded torso. Her face locked to Satinica's asshole allowing The One to lick and tease the sensitive opening as the rubber gown train trailed behind and hid the living object beneath. That would be her wedding day should she ever find the right man to share her life.

She pictured the surprise in her lover's face that first time The One wrapped her toothless mouth over the tip of his cock and took him to ecstasy as he lay prone on the bed while his beloved Satinica used a cat-o'-nine tails on his rubberized back to accentuate his pleasure. Of course his arms and legs would be spread and tied to the corners of the bed so he could not move from the pleasure/pain. Then after The One sucked him dry, Satinica would work her own legs over his shoulders and push her hot pussy under his crown and let his tongue swirl inside her luscious flower. He would have to lick her to nirvana as The One sucked him off again. Now that would be one hot initiation for her lover.

The One would have a travelling box. It would be a small cube box that required her to be folded into a cannonball tuck. The thick foam padding would assure perfect immobility and her breathing tubes would be connected to air bottles that were under the little shelf her modified breathing intake would be resting on. The travelling box would never expose to the world its secret contents. The box would also function as a vanity seat for her. The One's faceless rubber head locked into the top of the box. The top would be removable to expose the padded seat with the oval opening through which could be seen the rubber mouth and gag of The One. All she would do is remove the gag from the mouth sheath and order The One to satisfy her needs while she worked on her makeup or hair.

She would ultimately grow tired of The One and would set the sealed living thing on a pedestal in a corner of her trophy room to live out its days in unending rubberized darkness. She wouldn't even allow the pleasure of stimulation from the huge rod inside the sealed pussy. Only the soft sound of slow breath would be heard from the rubbery statue and only if someone were to put an ear close to the modified anal opening where the airway found the outside of the rubberized form. The feeding and waste tubes would be cleverly hidden inside the pedestal so only the visible rubber-clad mannequin with the blank rubber face would be visible. To most who saw the statue, they would never know that a living and breathing person was once inside what was now only a living object.

But these ideas fade as the bondage lengthens. Soon Slave Patrice has difficulty thinking of ideas to further bind, discipline, occlude or punish The One. She looks at her reflection and doesn't see Mistress Satinica in it. She sees Slave Patrice moaning into her gag and bucking with ecstasy as another wave passes through her tortured body. Ahhhhhh, it feels so good to submit to the exquisite punishment and receive the pulsing reward for enduring. Now there is a rhythm to her situation that comforts her. Patrice is stripping life to basic necessity of the moment. She peels the veneer of her upbringing away one layer at a time and exposes the basic kernel inside. She cums, she pees, she drinks. She must do two of these things to complete the game. The third one is automatic because of the infernal magic wands pulsing inside her. Her life is really reduced to these exhausting events. Her mind dulls to the ache of the bondage. The ache is there to enhance the pleasure that comes from her arousal and her fulfilment in ecstasy.

She has no clock. She knows no time. She looks at the pee bag after each time she pisses and sees the yellow stuff a bit higher on the walls. She tries to read the markings on the bag. How much pee is inside the bag? She guesses a little over two liters by the marking. She estimates that she is halfway home but how long has it been to get this far?

She wakes from the light nap and on impulse grinds her pussy into the padded saddle. She is immediately rewarded with another orgasm. This one is the best in hours. She shudders through her entire body and strains the bindings. Her hot breath comes in pants and she sucks at the drinking tube to sate her thirst. And she feels another urge to pee. She lets the stuff flow and watches the bag intently as it fills a bit more. Oh, the process is so exquisitely slow. Oh, to lust for this pleasure to last. Oh, to fear the pleasure torture never ends. Oh, to endure until the natural conclusion and the shift of the lever that signals the end of her trial. She shudders at the thought and another wave passes away from her heated clit.

Chapter 5 - Assignment and New Experiences

The next day Bill, stirred from his sleep. Angelhina had put him under the bed for the night. He wasn't sure what the punishment was about. He looked back on the day before and saw no fault in his chores and certainly no fault in how he brought his lover to ecstasy in the mud pit. Still she had ordered him under the bed when they retired for the night. Not that it was all that much punishment. He licked and sucked her pussy until she couldn't take any more then licked and sucked some more just for the fun of it. Since she always locked her body to the top of the bed and couldn't pull away from the pussy mask arrangement his head was locked into it was a bit of a pleasure/ordeal for her too. She was at the tender mercies of his tongue until he grew too exhausted to continue.

He slept lightly and woke with the urge to lick her awake, which he did in short order. She tried to squirm from his ministrations and failed as always so rode his thrusts to three additional and exhausting cums. Finally the timers on her bonds clicked and she freed herself from his wicked attacks. She rolled out of bed and knocked lightly on the side of the box frame.

"You were way too naughty last night, Slave Bill, best you stay in there a while and reflect on your indiscretions. I'll be along after breakfast to let you go, maybe. Be ready for a writing assignment when I return." The door slammed and Angelhina was gone.

Bill lay in the cramped area beneath the bed and wondered what the writing assignment might be. He hadn't had a writing assignment in quite a long time. The last one was to explain why he had done a particularly erotic game with one of the customers without Angelhina's permission. She learned early on in her journey into rubber that he had a knack for writing some very interesting prose on the subject of latex love and arousal.

Several hours later she returned and let him out of the bed. The computer was on and she pointed to the table. "I want a full description of the mud pit experience. Leave out no details from your perspective. And don't let me catch you surfing into any of those chat rooms you like so much. I want "rbrbill" working on this essay not chatting it up with his friends."

She left the room again. He bent to the task of writing the essay.

Some hours later Angelhina was holding two sets of pages. The first was an account of the mud experience from Bill. It was about two double-spaced pages long. The second was the account of the mud experience from Julietta. She hadn't been too happy about writing it down at first but Angelhina told her that she might be her sister but she still had to accept that Mistress Angelhina was the "head" mistress in the house. Julietta mumbled about equal rights and shared finances but was cut short.

"You agreed to the terms when we came here. You and Dan can leave any time you like but as long as you're here, you will abide by the established protocol. Besides it's research. I need to know how the pit works if we are to use it with our customers. I'll even let you use it some more if I like your essay."

Julietta's essay was a mix of English and Tagalog. It was an easier read than Bill's since it was in native tongue and the words more closely fit simple animal description of the senses. Bill's, as usual, seemed to go beyond just basic animal instinct and senses and got wrapped around the glories of sexual sensuality. Lust was in his too but it was elevated to a pedestal of loving passion. Of course she enjoyed the fact that his story described his love sharing with her, not Julietta. He didn't have a clue that the rubber being with him had been Julietta. At least that was one consolation. As she read Julietta's account her passion built. She felt the hot dampness developing under her rubber suit and knew she was going to need attention soon if this kept up.

The English version of Julietta's essay follows:

"Mud Pit. I felt the close tight rubber of another suit on me. It massages my skin. I feel my pussy juices flow and know my clit is hard and hot. I swing my legs into the pit and feel the muddy goop squeeze rubber against my legs. As I drop into the pit the mud squeezes rubber to skin and air passes through the neck seal. Soon I sink beneath the top and all goes black. I feel only the press of mud on rubber. I move my legs and arms slowly in the mud. Resistance massages all my body. Rubber stretches across skin it clings to and I feel millions of rubber fingers working my skin. I feel the press. I feel rubber pushing into my pussy. I feel rubber raking against my clit. I feel increasing pressure as I sink deeper into the pit. My feet touch bottom and I start to sit on the hard bottom.

Suddenly, as I start to panic in the black press, a hand find me and I feel Bill with me. He begins to fondle me blindly in the dark. I guide him to my most insistent need and he pushes his hand into my crack. He works quickly and I feel the rising joy of orgasmic relief. I cum quickly. I want to hold the moment as it slips away. I can remember the moment, hope to repeat it but know it will be different next time and know that is the joy of life. I help Bill with his need and he cums quickly as well. We rest on the bottom of the mud, buried in it with our thoughts, letting the close stuff protect us from outside troubles."

Bill's essay went beyond the senses and stirred her mind with fantasies untried and new areas to explore. By the time she finished his she was panting and ready to push something into her pussy for relief. She decided to try the pit instead. Her initial revulsion subsided but remained in the back of her head as she called for Bill and Dan to meet her at the pit. She especially wondered about Bill's description of the first minutes before Julietta joined him. Those minutes alone in the pit and feeling only the heavy press of the mud seemed as much a part of the experience as the final physical attention to his hard bulge. Her aroused curiosity led to her decision to dive into the pit before Bill, even though she had never thought in her wildest dreams that a mud pit could have any sexual purpose.

Dressed in the suit she eased her legs over the edge. She slowly dropped into the pit and the stuff sucked her down. She felt buried alive under the mud. As she settled onto the bottom all sound and sight were gone. Only touch. The tremendous touch of the pressing mud as it searched out every hidden corner of her rubber suit. It squeezed her in its thick heaviness. Her breathing was fast, shallow and hard much like wearing a corset. But it was the overpowering heaviness and closeness of the thick stuff. So this was being buried alive, she thought. It would be so final to be buried alive like this forever. That thought sent erotic thrusts through the pit of her belly and she actually felt a spontaneous arousal developing in her loins. The sudden surge of lust was response to the thought of being buried, of being dead and buried but the thrust was life! And she was so alive as she struggled with her thoughts and with the close press of the dark pit.

Even this temporary journey into the pit aroused emotions she never knew existed. She suddenly wondered what would happen if her trusted family above decided to just leave her under the mud? She could do nothing to escape. She could never hope to climb the sides of the thing. Even standing she would be almost a foot under the surface. Even if she could find the top of the wall she could never pull her body from the clinging slime. In her panic and the sudden realization that her position was hopelessly irreversible without outside help she shuddered in explosive animal lust. She saw her mother in the mist of her thoughts nodding in understanding, knowing this was right for her today.

A presence was near her now. Bill was in the pit with her. She reached for him and clung to him in unsurpassed relief. She held him and wrapped arms and legs around him. She didn't want him to leave her side. She needed him to finish her journey and push her fears away. She shuddered again as she held him. Bill understood what her fear was. He had experienced similar fear once in the fuck pit at Mistress Esoterica's estate. He understood how Shirley/Angelhina had taken a new step into her inner fears and now she needed him more than ever. In the end, Angelhina vowed that she would never go into the mud pit alone again but she understood the implications of the added experiences that such a facility provided. She determined that the mud pit would be valuable and ordered two more dug.

Chapter 6 - Over 48 Hours

Slave Patrice looks at the bag again. She tries to read the markings on its side and cannot tell if the yellow stuff is at the 4-liter or 4.5-liter mark. She hopes it is the 4-liter mark since that is the one that her tests had shown to be the point when the lever might release.

She thinks, "If that is the 4.5-Liter Mark, then I might well be some serious trouble here."

The buzzing in her pussy and ass stopped long ago. Again she has no idea how long ago or when. She just knows that she rests from the continuous arousal of the infernal probes. Now she drinks the water and waits to pee. She sleeps too, deep sleep that stretches for hours since the probes no longer pulsate inside her. She remains fully aroused and can only look at her image and grind her pussy those few millimeters of play against the saddle that the bonds allow. It's not enough to find another cum, at least not yet but it sure keeps her mind on edge as the dull pain continues to rack her stretched body.

She can tell her muscles will cramp if given a chance. The rack keeps them tightly stretched. But she worries about those first few minutes when the thing finally releases, if it releases. Maybe she miscalculated the amount of weight needed to overcome the friction and tension of the lever. She knows that her test didn't actually place the same amount of strain on the cogs of the ratchet as now. That might be a serious and maybe fatal miscalculation. The lubricant on the cog has to be easing the force needed for the thin edge of the lever to slip out of the ratchet. Still the word "fatal" has cropped into her mind. And she wonders if Slave Patrice is in truly serious trouble.

Mistress Satinica suddenly slips into her mind and taunts her, "Foolish Slave Patrice looking for answers and maybe will find the answer to the one final question everyone has. How choice that it comes from your own hands. I'll watch and laugh as you struggle with it but don't expect me to help you out of your situation."

Patrice locks Satinica away as she watches the bag and wills the fulcrum to swing out of the ratchet. She grinds her pussy into the saddle and screams silently into the gag, "Not yet! I'm not ready yet!" She cums explosively as punctuation and knows she is still alive; she has hope; and she thrills to her bondage! She feels the heavy latex squeezing her body. She feels the tight stretch from the rack. She chews on the gag. She sucks at her water tube. She hears the rushing whoosh of breath. She feels the numbness in her strapped hands. She relishes in an expectant glow filling her thoughts.

The 10-liter water bottle is about two thirds empty now. It is beyond the point of an optimist's determination. It's not one third full, well yes it is but the stark truth is it's two thirds empty. Maybe the pee bag will fill another liter or so before the water bottle runs dry. Patrice feels hunger pangs as well. She hasn't eaten anything in two days and all of the orgasmic explosions have taken a toll on her system. She is HUNGRY! She is tired. She fears her bondage will not end and she fears it will end too soon. God, what is going on with her thoughts?

Mistress Satinica slips into the conversation, "God has nothing to do with it, Dear Slave Patrice. Why do you think I call myself 'Satinica'?"

"Be gone from my mind, Satinica!" Shouts Patrice into her gag. She looks at the tortured rubber figure in front of her and wonders how she ever thought to do this to The One so permanently. Still she knows she needs such firm guidance and control in her life and she's willing to do anything to live her life in servitude. She pees into the bag and she waits. She sees movement, maybe, from the lever? No it's only false hope. She swills more water from the bottle and waits for her next piss. Now life is stripped down to two facts. She must drink water and she must pee. She might cum again if the arousal and fear returns in that indescribably sensual thrust of rapture! But she knows she cannot count on that happening again yet she knows it will if the lever is still holding when the bottle runs dry. She sucks down more water and waits. Now she tries to suck down as much water as possible. Her idea is to fill her bladder to a point that she must pee before the stuff gets processed for other functions. Maybe that will add just that little extra pee to the bag to pull the lever from the cog.

She thinks, "How stupid of me not to drink the water that way earlier." She swills the water and waits. She dozes again. The lack of food and the lack of sleep take their toll. Wandering thoughts conjure images of eternal slavery and rubber worship. She seeks out her phobias in the one place she knows she will find answers. She searches her mind and thoughts as she is stretched between her old life and her new beginning.

She wakes again as her painfully full bladder releases more yellow stuff into the bag. Her new approach seems to work as the new fluid is much more clear than any of the earlier pisses. She again thinks, "Why didn't I gulp as much water earlier?"

She watches the lever intently. It still doesn't move. She has another idea. Now that the weight of the pee bag is heavy on the end, perhaps a little jostle of the mechanism might be enough to release it. She looks at the ratchet system and tries to move in the bonds from side to side. Her slight movements don't translate into any noticeable vibration on the ratchet mechanism, but she still tries. She tries to work her wrists out of the rubber sleeve. They don't move a centimeter. She has planned her bondage well. She should have called someone to come by and check on her after three days. That too would have been a sensible safety measure but she was just too confident, at least "Satinica" was too confident in the success of her plan. So many "If only's" and now only one counted...if only the lever would slip.

She pees into the bag again. She sucks in the water. She draws air through the tube, a gurgling mix of air and water. She looks at the bottle and sees it is empty. Her time has come. She waits for the next pee. She figures she might have two or three more pees into the bag before it is done. She pees soon after her last drink and watches the lever. She wills it to move, even a fraction. She watches intently, so intently. She slowly looks away from the thing and sees her shiny stretched form in the mirror. She feels comfort in the finality that seems so near. She decides to defiantly strike out against the inevitable and she rocks her body within the confines of the bondage in another attempt to get the lever to move. She succeeds in bringing on arousal and another slow but building orgasm. This is one of those orgasms that sneak up unexpectantly and she relishes its arrival and lusts for its reward. The slow pulsing ecstasy subsides and she pees again. She waits and watches as the stuff slowly pushes into the bag. She waits. She sees no movement from the lever.

She thinks, "Well, if this is how it ends, I sure had a hell of a good time doing it!"

The rules of physics are unbending. Eventually when enough force is applied to two objects, the force of friction between the two objects breaks and movement begins. The force to overcome the friction is directly related to the force each object applies to one another and the amount of surface over which the force is applied. The heavy tension in the ratchet applied significant forces against the narrow foot of the lever. Quite an amount of force was needed to break this force and that last piss into the bag was just enough for the lever to begin to strain some of the bonds between the cog and the lever. The thing was teetering on the edge of release. It was still holding but just barely. It needed just one extra push and needed it soon before the lever edge dug a small purchase into the cog, a little notch infinitely shallow but perhaps enough to thwart any additional force from the next pee.

Patrice feels the urge to pee again. She lets go and waits. Her eyes are glued to the lever and she sees...

The lever releases with a start. Once the friction bond broke, the thing springs from the ratchet. The sudden release of tension races through the system in microseconds and Patrice is now suddenly in agony as her stretched muscles rebound. She pants in relief as she sags over the saddle. She easily pushes the arm sleeve to the tension bar and pushes the button. The little motor whirs to life and the straps around her wrist come loose. She pulls her hands out of the sleeve and massages her wrists. She works her numbed fingers and feels the pain of returning circulation. She slumps in the saddle too exhausted to do more for now.

Two days later, Patrice is sitting at her computer. She is carefully composing a message. Her ordeal is fresh in her mind. She remembers the exhausting sleep that overtook her moments after she got her arms free. She pulled the outer masks from her face then she slept right there slumped over the saddle. She finally awoke to painful muscles and slowly undressed. She first took off the corset. Then she removed the boots. She took off the rubber layers. She slowly climbed out of the dark place of her mind where rubber ruled supreme. She felt as though she were putting the layers of the onion back over the kernel concealing her inner desires and lusts from the outside world. Then she took one last look at the saddle before leaving the dungeon.

She had looked at her e-mail messages for the past three days. That was a shock, to discover that she had spent over 72-hours in her bondage. Many of the e-mails were from potential slaves looking for answers under the guidance of Mistress Satinica. She chose to delete those messages without any thought. She had found food and ate her first meal since before her journey had begun. Now she slowly composes the e-mail. It took time.

Dear Mistress Angelhina,
I write you as prospective customer who wants to explore in the fullest extent possible my passion for latex servitude. Do not stop reading this message as I tell you whom I am. Read me out and decide. You know me from a previous time. I am Patrice Fugleman. When I was released from prison I was filled with vengeance. I planned so many unspeakable things for you and your family. I cannot tell you them today but suffice that I have had an experience that forever changed me.
In prison, the dyke prisoners abused me. These caused a submissive part of my mind to awaken. I was in conflict with my dominant side. Mistress Satinica existed. She was still hard at work plotting revenge. Last week I took a fateful journey of discovery. I worked out a way to place myself into self-bondage using the saddle rack that you are so familiar with. My bondage went beyond expectation.

I cannot describe the torture my mind endured, the arousal I discovered and the ecstasy I experienced before the bondage ended. I realize that what I did was foolish. I miscalculated my method of release and nearly found myself in a permanent bondage that would surely been fatal.
In the bondage I found new answers and lost old desires. I am a changed and more humble person.

I saw the pictures of your dungeon and saw the saddle rack. I want to be a part of your life and your family. I want you to put me in the rack whenever you have no need for my service. I want to serve you and your family for the rest of my life.
Please consider my desire and application for employment seriously.
Slave to Rubber,
Patrice Fugleman (for now)

Patrice pushed the "Send" button and prayed for a quick and positive response.

 

25.08.03

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