Latex stories - RbrBill
Gromet's plaza 
Carla's Journey
by RbrBill
rbrbill@hotmail.com
© 2002 - RbrBill - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/f; latex; bondage; reluct/cons; slave; entombed; XX
08.07.02
I've decided to create this diary on the chance that our coming raid fails.  If this makes it to you as an attachment to an e-mail then you know that Carla and I are being held against our will at the "Perpetual Fantasy Gothic Club" on the East Side of Manhattan.

Carla's Journey, Part Three, The Raid

Carla took her time preparing for the night.  She had a sense of foreboding that she could not shake.  Bill had been scheming with his friends all day and was now putting the final touches on his dress.  Bill chose a simple wader suit with mask.  He put a belted, below the knee, Macintosh over the suit and cinched it tightly about the waist.  The hood he let fall on his chest.  There would be time to put it in place when they arrived at the club.

Carla started with a dildo brief.  She saw no need in not getting some arousal during the coming action.  Next she pulled on one of the full catsuits with attached hood.  She had Bill pull the zipper closed.  She then worked her way into the tight black mini-dress with the shiny parka zipper.  She closed the zip.  To match the red trim of the dress, she added a pair of shiny red opera gloves over her already rubber-covered arms.  The two layer of rubber against the arms and body felt so sensuous to the touch.  She decided to add a garter belt and black thigh stockings, not because she had to, but because she wanted two layers covering the legs as well.  Topping the outfit with a coat that hid most of the clothing from prying eyes, she met Bill at the door.

"Ready to rock and roll," he said lightly.

She chuckled through her mask.

They drove to the club neighborhood uneventfully and proceeded to park the car.  Pelting rain kept pedestrian traffic to a minimum.  Bill pulled the mask into place, finished closing off the suit zipper and pulled the coat hood forward to conceal his masked face.  Carla did the same. 

"How do you hear me?" Bill asked.  He had installed two-way radio sets in the hood and mask.

"Just fine," said Carla.

Hand in rubber gloved hand the two walked to the entrance of the club oblivious to the rain.  At the door, Bill knocked and waited for someone to let them in.

."Welcome to the "Gothic Club" as we call it.  Since you are dressed to code", the rubber clad hostess said, "the cover is $1000 to enter the Perpetual Love Room.  Another show is about to begin and I'm sure you will be delighted."

Bill handed over the cash and led Carla through the door.  Not much had changed in three months since that first fateful visit.  The floor was mobbed with patrons in all forms of rubber and leather.  A common theme was complete coverage of everything.  No one showed any skin.  Most men just wore catsuits.  Some had put rubber shirts and leather or rubber jeans on over obvious rubber suits.  All wore full-face hoods and some sported gas masks over the hoods.  The sound was raucous as the music thumped out a frenzied beat.  The dark room had minimal indirect lighting around the wall.  Bill and Carla found a table and waited for his allies to show.  The dimness was suddenly pierced by a single spot that shown into and through a golden slab of nearly transparent latex.  Like a fly caught in ancient amber, a beautiful full-figured rubber doll stood trapped in the massive rubber object.  Television monitors came on in all four corners of the room and two spiky lines began to crawl across the screens.  The background was a deep purple.  Slowly the pace of the lines quickened as an unseen energy worked its magic on the entombed vixen.  The screens began to pulsate with greens, reds, and yellows as the two lifelines increased in both frequencies and intensity.  This action continued for a full ten minutes while patrons stood or sat with their eyes glued to either a monitor or the shining jewel of rubber.  Many began to masturbate right there.  A few couples actually climbed on stage next to the statue and began to copulate.  The rising crescendo of sound was deafening.  Mixtures of groans and screams and squeaking rubber blended into a cacophony that was impossible. 

"I'm sure glad we have these transmitters," commented Bill.

Carla didn't say a word.  Bill could see her eyes filling with tears as her heart went out to the trapped girl.   She suddenly moved from the room, looking for a restroom.  Bill let her go.  In ten minutes the plan would be launched, just in time for the next show.

In the powder room, Carla removed her hood and took deep breaths to calm her nerves.  On a hidden monitor, the Mistress saw the woman take off her hood and recognized Carla.

"Get her," she said.  "Find whoever she is with."

"Yes, Mistress."

Bill was hit hard on the back of the neck and was out cold.

"An ingenious little communications set you have.  I'll make good use of them but you won't be needing it much longer," the Mistress said mockingly.

"To satisfy your overwhelming curiosity, I'll explain where you and Carla are since you can't see anything.  I took very good care of your suits.  In fact after plumbing you with all of the necessary equipment for an extended stay, I made sure we sealed every crack and hole, making you completely waterproof.  I'm sure you are aware of your arms wrapped about a warm soft object and I know you feel something wrapped about your own waist.  Well, you and Carla are in an eternal embrace. 

"She is plumbed just as you.  Your mouth is full of gag and tubing so we couldn't put the two of you in a kiss; however, your heads are turned so slightly toward what will be your adoring fans. Her delightful love nest is permanently impaled on your sheathed rod.  The vibrator is attached to your sheath enclosure.  The machine will vibrate your member like some living dildo while the two plugs in your butts will add that much more pleasure to your rapture.

"Since the two of you are embracing, I couldn't trust to pour the liquid latex directly over your bodies.  The restriction could cause suffocation.  Consequently, you do have a modicum of privacy that my other fucking statues don't have.  There will be a sack that will allow you just enough room for your chests to heave.  The sack is very tight.  It has a collar seal that will allow me to fill it with enough thick grease to insure your breathing comfort.  Your heads are outside the bag and once the liquid latex presses about the two of you, your basic shape will be exposed. 

"It should be quite exciting, the bag will hide just enough of your shapes to be delightfully alluring.  My guests will have fun imagining exactly what you two look like.  That's enough chitchat.

"Oh, one more thing, I think I'll send some of my people to your home in a week or two just to clear up your personal effects.  It's too bad your relatives have to be informed of the sudden breakdown you experienced."

The Mistress killed the communications circuit.

"Fill the box.  I want them ready for tonight's show."

This box already held the two captives in an upright position.  Bill was in a sort of sitting position.  Carla was planted on his lap; his tool buried deep in her mound, with her legs wrapped about his waist.  This box was cylindrical in shape.  The breathing and feeding tubing ran from the top center of the mold, while the rest of the necessary tubing and wires ran through the bottom center.

The slave closed the lid over the top and began to fill the cylinder.  The warm liquid slurry crept up the clear walls of the prison.  The slave watched the life monitors for any problems.  Slowly the rubber squeezed against the sack.  To get enough pressure to push the bag deep into the crevices formed by the tangle of arms and legs, this cylinder had over ten feet of space overhead.  The plan was to shave off all but three feet once the latex had hardened. 

Inside the enclosure, Bill and Carla felt the erotic press of the filling goop as it began to close over the sack.  Bill could only move a little in the sack and soon his movements were a distant memory.  As the warmth closed over his head the faint sounds he heard were snuffed out.  The pressure continued to build as the latex surface rose to the top of the tank.  Finally the goop spurt from the relief valve.  The slave turned off the flow and set the cylinder in the warm room for curing.  He made sure plenty of water was passed into the two trapped forms while they cured.

Curing took four hours.  After the walls were removed from the rubber cylinder, one of the slaves carefully cut the top seven feet of latex from the cylinder.  This excess was recycled to the storage bin for later moldings.  Two slaves moved the trapped lovers to the club dance stage.  They connected all of the wiring and tubing to the appropriate places in the console. 

The Mistress watched silently as they finished positioning the male and female statues on either side of the two lovers.  One of the slaves wondered vaguely who the male was that got tapped for this special duty.  Certainly one part of him was curious to experience such extreme rubber bondage, but the idea of being in it forever seemed too much.  Done, they stepped off the stage. 

The Mistress turned on the system and watched the screen of the nearest monitor as four pairs of lifelines began the erotic dance of compelled love.  She was entranced as the vibrating members inside of them quickly drove the two women to multiple climaxes.  Of the males, Bill exploded first, probably because he was a little freer and knew that his pleasure was shared by the woman he loved. 

The Mistress turned on the vibrator inside her own pussy and rocked contently in her hot rubber costume while she watched both men cum again.  She smiled to herself as she thought of the unfairness of nature.  During her pleasuring, the men had only achieved orgasm twice while the two encased girls and she had cum at least five times.  She really loved her life.

*******

It was three weeks before someone was sent to the estate in Maine.  Bill, Carla and their two companions performed four shows nightly at the club.  They were the biggest hit of the international fetish circuit.  The details of the show were passed on only by word of mouth since Mistress Estella was concerned about what she was doing.  Each patron had to sign an oath promising never to reveal the content of the show outside their exclusive circle of severe rubberists.

The performers were numbed by the existence.  Bill tried to retain some corner of his sanity, hoping that his message would get out and content in the knowledge that the fucking machine was carrying both himself and his lover to eternal ecstasy every day.  He soon was numbed as well by the complete lack of stimulus other than his vibrating member. 

The slave that went to Bill's house checked through all of his papers and collected mail.  He went to the study and saw a computer in the corner.  He launched the Windows 95 and checked Bill's e-mail.  As he opened the in box the machine hummed and spun for a few moments.  The number in the sent mailbox jumped from "6" to "11".  The slave didn't notice the change and proceeded to read the in box.  There were a lot of messages to deal with.  Some mail required answers that the Mistress had fortunately foreseen.  He typed out the replies, stumbling occasionally through his rubber gloves.  He wondered why the Mistress insisted on his wearing two full rubber suit beneath the street clothes for this task.  She was concerned that he would have to relieve himself in a public place and face all sorts of embarrassment.  Anyway he finished up the e-mail after about four hours.  He decided to look about the house and soon discovered a treasure-trove of rubberwear.  He decided that the guy in that cylinder was probably in seventh heaven. 

He stepped out on the porch and was lit with spotlights.

"You have to come with us to the police station," a voice said.  "We have some questions to ask you."

The raid was swift and complete.  Most of the slaves were in their sleep sacks.  For that matter so was the Mistress.  She had finished a late and exhausting night with one of her male slaves.  They had done it three times at the foot of her most perfect fucking sculpture.  She was rudely ripped from her sleep sack that itself had been unceremoniously cut open with a knife.

"What the hell?" she blurted.

"You are under arrest.  You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say may be used..."

"How?" she asked.

"None of your business.  And I suggest you find some real clothes to wear for the trip downtown."

She started laughing.  "I haven't owned material clothing for over seven years.  I'll just go as I am," she said.  "After all, I am the Mistress Estella." 

Epilog:

Police officers moved in to remove the numerous rubber-clad slaves and servants of the Mistress.  They decided to take all of them to the isolation ward at Bellevue Memorial Hospital.  Happily, several weeks of therapy restored all of them to a normal state of mind.  The rubberwear business got quite a boost when most of them were released since they were all still avid rubberists.

The four enclosed victims in the three rubber tombs were removed carefully to Bellevue and slowly removed from their prisons.  They were surprisingly animated about their ordeal and Doctors learned an immeasurable amount on the effects of sensory deprivation, isolation and extreme sexual stimulation.  Carla and Bill returned to Maine and married.  They live happily in rubber with their two newfound servants who also happen to have married after sharing the common bond of a rubber entombment.  They still will occasionally use the equipment Bill designed after he met Carla.  He added the sack to his design so that shared rubber encasement could be realized.  The two couples will take turns with the bondage when the occasional mood strikes and business allows.  Most of their time is spent running their booming bed & breakfast on a remote island near the Canadian border.  Singles and couples have booked their services years in advance hoping to achieve the ultimate rubber experience with Master Rubberson, Mistress Latexia and their two assistants. 

Postscript:

I composed the majority of this story while completely sealed in rubber brief, shirt, socks, two or three catsuits, an open face hood and two tight full hoods.  Although this inspiration helped in developing my theme, I'm sure that my enclosure never approached the complete helplessness of the enclosure fantasized in the tale.  After completing the final part I put on an Israeli gas mask and climbed into a front zip sleep sack.  I was in a heavenly rubber embrace and was soon shooting my load into the hot briefs.  Perhaps one day I might meet a Carla or some other woman that is totally wrapped in a rubber package, preferably in multiple layers to share my passion.  Until then, I can always imagine.
 
 
 
 

08.07.02

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