|Gromet's Plaza - Latex Stories|
|Among The Missing|
© 2004 - Rubberwolf - Used by permission
|storycodes: M/f; latex; bondage; rubberdoll; reluct; X|
Among The Missing by Rubberwolf
Snow blanketed the surrounding landscape and a cold breeze blew in from the grey sea, causing a shudder through the assembled crowd. As if the pale moon were an inadequate illumination for the evening, the lighthouse, jutting out from the island on a narrow peninsular some five miles away, passed it’s strong beam over the people, who still needed the comfort of flash lights to banish the darkness from their midst.
There were over two hundred people gathered around the village square, its ancient stone cottages and grey slate roofs a stark contrast to the focus of the evening’s activities. The casual observer would be forgiven for thinking that the islanders were engaged in a typical winter festival, and would look for a bonfire or fireworks. The air with charged with the crowds anticipation, which was so strong that one could almost taste it, like the coppery tang of ozone in the atmosphere before a thunder storm.
Unlike the atmosphere that you might perceive at a rock concert just before the band arrives on stage, the crowd’s mood was more of a throwback to a previous age, when great fires were lit for Beltane and food would be left in the fire place as offerings to the fickle ghosts who would haunt the night. However, instead of worshipers facing the dawn, awaiting the first rays of sun to proclaim the end of winter, accompanied to the cry of “Solo Invictus,” the focus of the gathering was a young, petite woman who was being fussed over by several people, obviously in the final stages of some bizarre ritual.
She was not dressed particularly well to fend off the cold winter chill. While thick woollens, scarves and heavy winter coats were common place amongst the onlookers, the centre of their attention would have been more at home in a seedy motel, or fetish club.
Her outfit consisted of a white rubber leotard, which was encased by a light pink, but very strict, under bust corset. Suspenders connected the corset to a pair of light pink, rubber stockings, which matched the arm length rubber opera gloves worn by the girl. Her feet were painfully encased in ten inch, light pink, rubber ballet boots with white laces, which forced her feet in to a torturous pirouette. Her thick dark hair was hidden beneath a pink rubber hood, which covered her head all the way down to the neck, only leaving her face uncovered. In her hand she held a metal rod, some two feet in length, topped with a bright crystal star. Although she did not hold the wand tightly, she found it impossible to let go, since it had been glued to the rubber glove by strong rubber adhesive. Her upper arms were also held in place by thick rubber straps attached to the corset, forcing her upper arms to hug her slender body. As a final detail, the rubber straps and corset fastenings were held securely in place by tiny padlocks.
Once the padlocks were all secured, one of her attendants, a tall muscular man with a weathered face and calloused hands, who one would normally expect to find aboard a fishing trawler, grabbed the girls jaw and forced it open, before roughly shoving a gag in to her mouth and securing the buckle tightly behind her head with a small padlock. The unresisting girl elicited a loud “Mppph” at the force of the intrusion.
The gag was also made of pink rubber and now covered the lower half of her face and jaw. A pipe protruded from the mouth of the gag, with a round rubber ball dangling from the bottom of it. The fisherman took the ball and squeezed it. In total he squeezed the ball eight times, so that the inflatable rubber ball trapped securely in the girls mouth forced her jaws further and further apart until she felt that one more squeeze would be enough to unhinge her jaw bone. Once this had been inflated to the mans satisfaction, he disconnected the hose and pump from the gag. He then fished around in the hoods rim until he found a small wire, which he plugged in to a socket in the gag.
While this was happening, another man brought a large, conical, thing made of transparent plastic, over to the girl. Two long rods were attached to the top of the hollow cone, giving it the appearance of a space rockets nose cone. The fisherman and another man stood either side of the girl while the third man brought the cone around to the front of her. As if reacting to some unheard signal, the two men grabbed one of the girl’s legs, at the knee and one of her arms and tilted the girl backwards, so that she was supported by both men horizontally.
Once the girl was in place, the man with the cone approached the girl, lining the two shafts on the top of the cone, up with her pussy and anus, which could be seen through the crotch less leotard. The larger, twelve inch, shaft was set slightly off centre and was made of rubber, with the exception of the rounded steal tip, while the smaller, six inch shaft was comprised totally of rubber. Satisfied, he shoved the two phalluses in to her wet pussy and lubricated ass. This elicited another loud “Mppph” from the girl. Once she had stopped squirming, the third man then, with the help of the other two men, moved her legs in to position, so that the metal loops, secured to the inside of her legs by rubber straps aligned with corresponding holes in the cone. Once in position, he then reached inside the cone and secured stout padlocks to the inside, so that the girls’ legs were now secured to the cone.
Once her upper legs were secured, the man grabbed her ankles and aligned the loops which were built in to the boots, to the holes at the base of the cone. These were then padlocked in place. Once satisfied that the girl was now attached to the cone, the men lowered her so that she was forced to stand in this new undignified position, with the base of the cone a good twelve inches from the ground, due to the ballet boots and her legs forced apart by over three feet.
One of the other attendants then brought a large sheet of white rubber over to the girl. Holding it out in front of him, as though he was about to shake the dust out of a blanket, the girl could see that it was roughly triangular in shape, with a distinct curve along the top and bottom edges. She could also make out long strips of piano wire that fanned out from the top rim, running the length of the material, to the lower rim. More wire around the lower rim ensured that the bottom half of the material formed a distinct wavy line.
Approaching the girl, he wrapped the long skirt around her so that the upper half of the garment sat snugly around her tightly constricted, eighteen inch, waste. Reaching behind her he secured the two corners of the garment with poppers, before stepping back fussing over the skirt so that it hung loosely down the girls’ legs, falling below the lower rim of the cone. Next he stepped around the girl and secured the poppers that ran down the back of the skirt which now looked like a rather large, crème puff style wedding dress.
While he was securing the last popper, one of the other men approached with another skirt. This garment was of similar dimensions to the first, although it was comprised of baby pink rubber and did not have wire imbedded within it. This was placed over the top of the white under skirt, and fell a good five inches shorter than the first. Once this had been done up, the girl now looked as though she was wearing a large ball gown, with frilly, lacy white slip showing beneath.
Next, a large pair of wings were brought over and attached to the corset. The corset had several buckles running down each side of the garment, which corresponded to straps on the giant, five foot white rubber and wire wings. Further straps were passed over the girls shoulders and secured to buckles near each arm pit of the corset.
Once the three men had secured this contraption to the girl’s back, one of the men pulled a small electric wire from the wings and inserted it in to the rear of the skirt, to click home in to a socket within the cone.
Finally, the last three items of the costume were produced. The girl watched helplessly through terrified eyes as a mask was pulled over her face and secured with laces at the back. The mask would not have looked out of place on a doll, since it had distinct female features and was painted with lip stick, rough and eye liner. A tube of paste was then emptied on to the top of the girls head and a long, curly, blond wig was pressed firmly on to the girls scalp. Finally a bright halo was suspended over the girls head and the long, stiff wire which supported it was rammed home, with a resounding click, in to a socket where the two wings joined.
The girl watched, terrified, through the eye slits in the mask, as the men stepped back to allow the large, portable crane, which had been parked on the edge of the green, to be driven on to the field. Once it had stopped, with the arm above her, the hook was lowered, to be caught by one of the three men. Cables were then attached to reinforced steel loops in the corset and connected to the cranes hook.
Once secured, the third man shouted instructions to the crane driver until the slack was taken up. Inspecting the cables, the man stood back and gave the OK signal to the crane driver, who unceremoniously forced his control lever forward at full power.
A great cheer erupted from the crowd as the girl was raised in to the air and her panicked scream, muffled by the gag, was lost in the general uproar. Spot lights were then lit to follow the girls swaying progress until she came to a halt, sixty feet above the proceedings. She was then swung around until she was directly above the large fern tree which dominated the centre of the village green. She was not, however, alone in the heavens. Two men, standing on a raised platform, whose usual role was to repair street lights, caught the swinging girl and positioned her over the top of the tree. Once they had her securely in their grasp, one of the men spoke in to a hand held radio and instructed the crane driver to lower the crane.
After a gradual drop of four foot, the girl came to rest on top of the tree, swaying slightly as she settled, the top of the tree firmly imbedded within the cone. The two men then lowered their platform slightly so that they could align the four steal bars secured to the tree, with the bottom of the cone. Once satisfied, they passed bolts through holes in the plastic, which corresponded with the ends of the steal bars. Each man then took a socket wrench and did up the bolts, securing the girl to the tree. Finally, an electric cable was retrieved from under the cone and plugged in to a socket at the top of the tree.
Their work done, the men withdrew on their platform, leaving the girl to contemplate her new position and wishing that she was back on the ground, being terrified of heights and that, despite the pain of her previous position, that the weight was back on her toes, rather than attempting to accommodate all of her weight on the dildo that was forcefully making its presence felt in her ass.
Below, the crowd was becoming excited, as they accompanied the fisherman counting down from ten to zero. As the counting finished, with a great flourish on his podium, the fisherman pressed a large red button. Instantly, and amid much cheering, the lights on the Christmas tree and throughout the small village, sprung to life, bathing the small settlement in festive cheer as revellers made their way to the food tables and drinks that were arranged at the side of the village green.
The large bonfire that had waited patiently for over three days was ignited and music blasted the quiet village from speakers erected around the green.
On top of her perch, the girl opened her eyes. The tree was alive with flashing lights below her. Small LED lights, sewn in to her clothes began to flash in the same pattern as the other tree lights so that, from the girls’ perspective, the flashing skirt appeared to extend fifty foot below her. In her hand, the wand glowed brightly and her halo bathed light down on to her face while lights danced along the wings in strobing patterns.
Although the fairy still shifted uncomfortably on her perch, she now had a new focus of attention as the dildo in her pussy started to extend and retract in time with the lights and she screamed with ecstasy as an orgasm, that she had not even felt building, rocked her body and banished all coherent thought from her brain.
Ann had worked for Chambers and long for about two years now, she reflected. It was not a bad job, as far as these things went. The money was good. The hours however, were another mater, since she was often called to work late in to the early hours of the morning. Popular literature and television depicted the private detective as a down at heal graduate of the school of hard knocks, who would solve murder cases, or find stolen money after beating their way through various bad guys to find the truth.
The reality was a little less glamorous. She did not wear a trench coat. She did not smoke, or drink. At least, she did not drink to the excess depicted in novels. In fact, Ann led a relatively healthy life. She went to the gym three times a week. She jogged every morning and evening and would often read trashy romance novels during stake outs. Not your typical private dick, all things considered.
The work itself was relatively mundane. Most of her cases usually preceded divorce hearings, since she was usually called upon to find out who was cheating who. The majority of missing persons did not want to be found for honest reasons. They wanted to leave their husbands. They could not stand to be dominated by an interfering parent. Their mid life crisis had kicked in. Very rarely was Ann called in to find a person who had run off with lots of stolen money in a large sack, helpfully marked “Swag”.
Although contacts on the street were still very important, much of the old fashioned leg work had been replaced by computer searches. It was possible to find out a great deal about individuals, or organizations, simply by looking on the internet. Of course, the ability to hack in to confidential files was, while illegal, an essential tool of the job.
Business had been a little slow recently, but was on a seasonal upswing as the Christmas holidays approached. People became reckless as the season of good will approached. Although many people started thinking about their families, a great many cheats had been caught out at the office party, or by booking hotel rooms when they were supposed to be shopping for presents. It was with a certain economic optimism therefore, that Ann received her ten thirty client.
Ann never failed to be amused by a new client’s first reaction to their introduction to Chambers and Long. Firstly, no trench coat. No down at heel, hard bitten, ex cop sitting behind the desk puffing away on his cigar. The initial reaction is to assume that the pretty, diminutive, brunette sitting behind the desk in a smart business suit, must be the infamous secretary. It comes as quite a shock to discover that Ann does not spend all day painting her nails and fending off creditors for her boss. It is even more of a shock to discover that Ann is in fact the person that they have come to see.
As if Ann herself were not a shock, the office lacked the distinct grubbiness that one would expect. Her desk was not littered with paperwork. There were no ancient food wrappers strewn around the office. The waste paper bin was not surrounded by projectiles that had missed their mark. In fact, Ann’s office was quite well furnished and homely looking. This, of course, was Ann’s intention. Since many of her clients would be, by their very nature, distressed, or uncomfortable, Ann had ensured that when she met clients, they could relax as quickly as possible.
This client however, while not exactly relaxed, was definitely in control. She did not seem at all phased, or surprised to see a woman behind the desk. In fact, Ann suspected that her client knew exactly who she had come to see.
After showing her client in to her office and offering her a seat, Ann leant back in her chair and studied her visitor. The initial impression was of a strong woman who was aging well. Ann placed her age at around forty five. Her dark, shoulder length hair, held back with hair pins could be considered severe. Her nails were immaculate, as were her clothes. Dark trouser suite and designer shoes, did not so much shout money, but hint at it very subtly. This was confirmed by her jewellery. Plain, unobtrusive, but expensive. Her face, while striking, spoke of strength, as did her cold, piecing eyes. All in all, Ann reflected, not a woman to cross. Taking this in to account, from the way that she was clasping her Gucci hand bag firmly on her lap, her client was quite anxious about something.
“So Mrs Birgett, how may I be of service to you?”
After a moment’s hesitation, as if deciding weather she was doing the right thing, Mrs Birgett eventually spoke.
“It’s my daughter. She has gone missing; Stacey is only twenty three and had moved in to her own apartment six months ago. She seemed to be doing so well in her new job and then, about eight days ago she did not show up for work. I have been over to her apartment, but it’s as though she has just disappeared.”
Looking down, Mrs Birgett started to rummage through her hand bag.
“Have you been to the police? They are more equipped to deal with this than I am. They have the resources and man power to spare,” Ann offered.
“Oh yes, but they don’t seem that interested. I got the impression that they deal with a great many missing persons cases and I am not holding out much hope that they will find my daughter”, the woman stated as she fished out a collection of photographs and documents from her bag and placing them on the desk.
Ann picked the items up and flicked through them. The photographs showed a very pretty young woman graduating from college in full gowns. Another showed the same woman on a beach, relaxing in a black bikini, propped up on one arm as she used the other to shade her eyes while smiling at the camera. The other documents were assorted phone bills, credit card receipts and bills.
“I hadn’t heard from my daughter for a while, so I went over to her apartment. I thought that these bills might be useful in finding her,” Mrs Birgett stammered.
Ann considered this for a few moments.
“All right, I will see what I can do. In the mean time, could I have a copy of her apartment keys? It might help if I could go through her things and see if there might be anything that might give me an idea.”
After that, it was just a matter of negotiating price. Mrs Birgett left slightly happier than when she entered and Ann was left to consider how to begin the investigation. The first course of action was to telephone an old friend in the police department, to see how much ground the police had covered. Three years with the force must have some benefits after all. She got through on the third ring, and arranged a meeting for the following morning.
Getting up from her desk, she collected the papers and headed out of her office and down the corridor. Finding the door she wanted, she entered the room with only a gentle tap on the door before hand.
As expected, Mick, the companies computer expert, was busy behind his desk, or at least, the desk that was piled with old fast food boxes and other assembled junk that would probably require a bull dozer and a company of marines to wade through.
“Hi Mick,” Ann cheerfully announced.
The junk moved slightly and Mick peered up from his computer screen. It was hard to distinguish the man, from his surroundings. Long un-kept hair, and food stained T shirt insured that Mick blended perfectly with his surroundings.
“Oh, hi Ann. Whats up?”
Ann handed him the telephone bills and other documents.
“You couldn’t get me some addresses to go with these numbers could you?
Mike stared blearily at the documents, occasionally muttering to himself. But eventually he re-established eye contact.
“Yeah, no problem. Come back in two days,” he stated before disappearing back in to his lair.
This dismissal was typical of Mike and so Ann returned to her office,
collected her coat and went to check out the missing girls apartment.
Latexstories : Rubberwolfstories