|Entering Rubber Society|
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|Storycodes: Solo-F; F/f; FM+/f; D/s; latex; clothing; maid; vacbed; hoods; gasmask; multilayer; restaurant; group; enslave; marriage; bdsm; fist; les; climax; cons; XX||
|Entering Rubber Society 10: A Day for Rubber LatexLadyLL Solo-F; F/f; FM+/f; D/s; latex; clothing; maid; vacbed; hoods; gasmask; multilayer; restaurant; group; enslave; marriage; bdsm; fist; les; climax; cons; XX|
|story continued from part nine
Part 10: A Day for Rubber
Katherine walked down the street enjoying the cool day. No rain today, the streets dry and the sky blue. As she sauntered down the pavement she caught herself noticing the number of Rubber Society members as she had never done before. She was used to seeing people in latex on the street, of course. It was not at all uncommon to see rubberised individuals or groups. Men in very heavy rubber enclosure, full face hoods connected via tubing to breathing management equipment worn as backpacks, women in lovely tight latex dresses, kids in rubber ‘modwear’, rubber tartan kilts over brightly coloured zentai suits of thin latex, bodies and faces indistinguishable from one another, genderless.
A pair of latex geishas passed her, their rubber kimonos fluttering, their elaborate Oiran-style wigs of sculpted black latex lending their white masked features an artificial and doll-like appearance. They chatted to each other in a mix of English, Japanese, and Korean.
An open air carriage passed, designed to look antique, drawn by four rubber encased pony girls. All four were in total rubber enclosure, wearing black rubber horse head hoods, blinders and bits, their figures severely constrained in tight waist and neck corsets. Horse tails hung from the back of their buttocks and each ‘pony’ was identical; breasts enlarged and matched in size, waists reduced to specific and identical dimensions, arms and hands bound tightly behind their backs, heel-less pony boots with sculpted hooves forcing their feet into en pointe configurations.
Something about the way they held their heavily rubberised heads high and the sureness of their movements told Katherine these were lifestyle ponies, fetishists who had given up any human life and lived 24 hours a day as rubber encased ponies even to the extent of eating only hay and alfalfa, albeit genetically modified to support human metabolisms. She had actually written a column once on genetically modified feed for animal life fetishists.
They were being well managed by the driver, a woman in sleek black rubber riding coat over a red latex total enclosure catsuit with matching gas mask. She wielded a long shafted coachwhip expertly, flicking it with a crack over the heads and occasionally on the flanks or buttocks of any of her four ponies that appeared to drift in concentration on the task at hand.
Katherine watched as it passed, noting the female passenger in heavy white rubber bondage. The woman was in a long column gown of brilliant white latex, her waist constrained by a bridal corset; a white corset, embossed with white roses and the occasional black thorn, symbolizing the pleasure and pain she would receive from her soon to be spouse. Her neck corset matched and not only forced her rubber sealed head in a stiff, upward gazing posture, but also ran up over her chin and lower face to enforce silence upon her during her wedding. Her acquiescence to the union, her declaration of, “I do”, would already be on file, so no sound need issue from her on this, her wedding day.
The bride was not seated in the carriage, but rather mounted to a frame to keep her upright and in full view as the vehicle was driven down the streets to the wedding venue. Presumably she was wearing white latex ballet boots as her traditional bridal boots, although Katherine could not see her feet. But without a doubt, the wedding gown was sure to be tightly hobbling, limiting her gait as she walked up the aisle to be joined in matrimony with her new spouse.
Behind her, on the rear running board, stood two attendants in black rubber tuxedos, tail coats and top hats. One appeared male, the other female although who could really say or, for that matter, care, what biological genders lay behind the stiffly rubbered figures with their heavily gas masked faces? They would bodily lift the bride from her mounting in the carriage and would escort her on her long, mincing walk down the aisle of the wedding venue, ensuring that she neither stumbled, nor bolted. They would then transfer control of this beautifully submissive figure in brilliant white latex to her new spouse, probably via the handoff of a leash attached to that amazing neck corset.
They were possibly her siblings, possibly current spouses. It was traditional that a bondage bride was conveyed to a her wedding in such a fashion and given to her new spouse by family members.
Katherine watched as the carriage moved slowly past her, allowing everyone on the street a good long view of the bride being transported to her wedding. Katherine, dressed in comfortable rubber today to meet an old friend, felt a frisson of desire pass through her. She had never particularly thought about nor noticed rubber brides on their way to their weddings before, but this time seemed different. The image flashed through her mind of herself in that carriage, sealed, gagged, corseted, hobbled, constrained, and eager as she approached a spouse who would love her, cherish her, own her, and control her through every moment of a completely rubberised life.
Her head spinning for just a moment, Katherine found herself a bit short of breath. She steadied her breathing, then turned back to her path, walking just a bit unsteadily to meet her old friend from college. “Wow!” she thought, “What came over me?” She regained her composure and continued on, but the image of the beautiful, latex encased bride, mounted in her carriage for all to see, remained in Katherine’s mind as she approached the restaurant.
Proceeding down the avenue, she saw most of the people on the street this Friday afternoon were in ordinary clothing, shimmering colours, sparkly stretch, and the ubiquitous blue jeans. Over 200 years after their invention, blue jeans remained a staple of the public’s wardrobe. She understood why, given their comfort and durability as well as the myriad ways they had been made stylish over time. But she was more sensitized today to notice the members of the public who were dressed in her own new-found material, latex.
The mix was probably 1/3 rubber society members, 1/3 ordinary cloth clothing, and 1/3 a mix, people who were just trying out a bit of latex in a top or a skirt, but who were not presenting as totally dedicated to rubber fashion and lifestyle as she herself was, not to mention the bizarre mix of others on the street who chose to present in deeply fetishistic fashion.
When Katherine had awakened that morning, she found she was still vacuum packed and could not move. She could not tell the time of day nor whether Simone was still beside her. She thought about wriggling or making some attempt to escape, but decided to just revel in the tightly packed nature of her confinement for a while.
A short time later she felt the vacuum release in a quiet rush of air. The constant pressure on her face, breasts, torso, and hips disappeared. A moment later she felt the top layer of the vacuum device pulled back. Her white hood became somewhat brighter, but the milkiness of her rubber world remained.
A gentle touch around her hood from a slim hand caused her eye openings in the white rubber hood to dilate. Soft daylight, filtered through milky transparent rubber drapes, flooded the room. Katherine found herself staring up at Simone, who was straightening after releasing her mistress.
Her maid was back in English maid costume, an ankle length rubber dress in black, high necked, long sleeved, with matching ruffles around the neck and each wrist, a long white rubber apron slung over her shoulders, held by ruffled straps.
The gleaming white rubber apron fitted snugly over her breasts and was secured in the back with a large latex bow. Her rubber covered face was further hidden by a white gas mask of very elaborate design which included two filters and exhalation hoses that appeared to be integrated with the straps of her apron. Although it was not obvious, Simone’s breathing was restricted and managed by a 3 litre rebreather bag hidden beneath the bow at her back.
Katherine sat up in the black rubber bed sheets, Simone helping by arranging pillows behind the night-gowned woman. Once upright and comfortable, Simone stepped back and picked up a tray she had set upon the night table before releasing Katherine. Katherine certainly did not often have breakfast served to her in bed, but wasn’t going to turn it down.
The tray held a plate with a croissant, scrambled eggs, bacon, a slice of cantaloupe, and a small bowl of cereal. A serviette and eating implements were on one side. A small carafe of coffee and a cup completed the arrangement. The tray was made of thick, hard rubber in bright red and the dishes were of black china with cherry blossoms painted across the surface, bright against the shiny black. Katherine noted this was her usual breakfast and smiled in her rubber enclosure at Rose’s cheek.
She noticed one unusual thing on the breakfast tray. A large syringe was laid across the top of the tray, plunger pulled back, and filled with a thick looking grey liquid, orange and black veins running through it.
Simone flipped legs down from the bottom of the tray and it became a perfect little table for Katherine to enjoy her breakfast. She started to thank her rubbery maid, then remembered she was still silenced. Her latex covered hand stroked her hood as she’d been taught and the mouth hole opened wide, showing her lips beneath.
“Thank you, Simone. This looks lovely, but what is that for?” Katherine indicated the large syringe.
Taking the cue, Simone reached up and stroked her own black rubber mask. Her mouth hole also opened, revealing her pretty lips.
“For your feeding, miss, if you wish to have it injected. I prepared it by liquefying all the food on the tray in identical quantities. I did not know which way you preferred to be nourished. I thought you might wish to consume breakfast via tube, miss.” Simone’s voice was slightly muffled behind her layers of rubber.
Katherine was taken aback. “You thought I might want to be tube fed? What ever gave you that idea?”
“It is common miss, within Rubber Society. I take all my meals this way. My whole family does.”
Katherine realized her tone might have offended the rubberised girl in front of her. She picked up the serviette, similar to the rubberised bath towels, and studied it. Quickly she found the little control stud. Pressing it against her rubber nightgown, she found it stayed at her neck naturally, the two rubbers holding each other. It worked just as modern cloth serviettes did.
“I understand, Simone. But I am just beginning to get used to wearing latex and rubber. I doubt I shall ever want to be tube fed. I have seen some members of Rubber Society being fed this way, and I have no objection, but I do not think it is for me.”
Simone smiled. “Very well, miss, but may I recommend that you try it sometime. It is quite a pleasant way to feed and avoids all the unsightliness of biting and chewing and daubing associated with oral feeding.”
Katherine laughed as she picked up the croissant. “I am sure it does, but it is far beyond my ability to accept. What does it feel like? Having a tube inserted down your throat?” She bit into the end of the croissant and a small explosion of pastry flakes rose around her mouth, landing on her gloves, her face, her lips and her plate. Katherine suddenly found herself madly daubing at the flaky mess on her latex covered hands and face. She realized last night’s dinner had been specifically designed for rubber covered eating; this morning’s had not.
Simone made another serviette appear from somewhere and helped her get the oily flakes loose and swept up. She was laughing quietly as she did so, her point made for her. “The sensation of a tube being passed up your nostril and then down the back of the throat is a bit disturbing at first, miss. But, by the time I was six I was doing it myself and now it slides in as naturally as swallowing.”
“By six?” Katherine was again taken aback. “When did you start?”
“Mother tube fed me and Sophie from the age of four. That is when most Rubber Society children begin. We needed help from Mother for the first couple years, but most children insert their own by age six. It is a bit of a rite of passage for us. Like tying your ballet boots or your corset laces. Or riding a bike without the stabilisers.”
“No, I do not think that is for me.” Katherine cast a hesitant gaze at the large syringe.
“May I consume it, then, miss. It will save me making another for myself.”
“Yes, of course. Is this normal for you?”
“I only consume food via tube, miss. I thought you might be interested. I did not intend to offend.”
“Oh, I am not offended, Simone. And I am interested,” said Katherine. “Where do you insert the tube, though?”
Simone lifted her head slightly to show Katherine a port just under the mask’s large circular exhalation port.
“I inserted an NG tube through my nostril this morning and the mask automatically connects this feeding port to it when I seal it to my face.”
Picking up the syringe Simone gently screwed the tip into the port on her mask and began injecting liquefied food directly in her stomach.
Katherine was appalled and just a bit queasy at the sight for a moment, then realized Simone was quite comfortable nourishing herself this way.
“So you do not taste anything?”
“Oh no, miss. I have not tasted anything other than rubber for several years.” As she spoke, Simone injected another 5 cubic centimeters of goo into her stomach.
Katherine resolved to accept her maid’s style of feeding if not to join her. She had heard of this, after all. Motioning for Simone to take a seat by the bed, Katherine attacked her own breakfast in a more traditional manner, relishing the taste of eggs and bacon washed down with fresh coffee. As she ate, Simone occasionally injected a bit more of her meal and the two chatted about the night before.
After the leisurely breakfast and some playful sex with Simone, Katherine had arisen, bathed, and chosen a new outfit from the Atelier Sutcliffe collection.
Since she was meeting her friend, Emily Swanson, and since Emily was not a member of rubber Society, Katherine had decided to wear a fairly simple outfit. A black total enclosure catsuit with large eye openings and a red rubber skirt suit with a peplum jacket and a slim hobble skirt that terminated mid calf. A black rubber corset went over the catsuit to constrain her waist and add texture to her outfit although it was largely invisible under the suit jacket.
Katherine chose red rubber heel-less ankle boots, and decided she did not need a hat or a gas mask for today’s outing. At the last minute though, she demurred to Simone’s objections and allowed the maid to place a small black and red rubber fascinator atop her gleaming skull.
“Miss, even if you do not wear it to meet your friend, you should carry a gas mask so you have one if you decide you want it. I have set one out in the foyer, red to match your suit, along with your handbag.”
Chuckling, Katherine said, “All right, Simone, I shall carry it, but not wear it to meet Emily. I do not know how she would respond to a gas masked woman sitting beside her and claiming to be her rather mundane friend from University.”
“Yes, miss. You will find it clips easily to one of the rings along your corset’s edge. Many women wear their mask as more of an accessory to their outfit than as a covering for their face.”
Katherine stepped into the foyer of her flat and found the mask, a beautiful glossy red rubber creation, the eyes lined with rhinestones and filled with red tinted mirrored lenses. It had a very low profile that would mould itself nicely to her features. The air return in front was black, with a star pattern of holes for her exhaled breath and the sides were smooth and only slightly raised to accommodate the intake valves.
She discovered that her corset did, indeed, have a ring along its edge and a clip which fitted into a receptacle at the bottom of the mask so it hung upside down against her red rubbered thigh. “So that is what the socket is for” she thought. She had noticed the receptacle on her other masks, but had not known its purpose.
Now, as she approached the restaurant she and Emily had agreed on, Katherine was so sensitized to members of Rubber Society around her that she could not help but notice the woman stepping out of a store, her pretty semi-transparent purple latex dress contrasting stylishly with slim latex high heeled boots, elbow length gloves, and an elaborate gas mask all in yellow rubber. The dress sported a well fitted bodice, three quarter length sleeves and a flared skirt breaking a bit below the knee. Beneath the dress the woman wore a total enclosure latex catsuit in soft metallic platinum.
The woman was older than Katherine, taller, too, and burdened somewhat by holding the hand of a very young girl dressed in similar fashion. She wore a bubblegum pink latex A-line pinafore dress over a white latex catsuit with an open faced hood covering her forehead, cheeks, and chin to such a degree that only a small oval was left open for her mouth, nose, and eyes. Her low heeled ankle boots, wrist gloves, and gas mask were in matching pink rubber.
Neither person was wearing a gas mask, but rather had them dangling at their waist from belts matching their dresses.
“Where shall we go for lunch, mummy?” the young girl asked.
“There is a restaurant just up the way, dear. And a fountain bar across the way.”
“Oh yes! Can we go to the fountain bar? Please!”
“ Are you sure? You will have to wear your mask. They do not serve solid food.”
The girl’s face beamed. “Yes, mummy, that is why I wish to go there. You know I love fountain drinks.”
Mother looked down at daughter and laughed. “Yes, I know. Come along then, put your gas mask on and we’ll insert tubes at the fountain.”
“But I do not have a tube with me,” The girl said plaintively.
“The fountain bar will provide them, dear. I do not have mine with me either.” Mother was unconcerned.
The girl quickly popped her gas mask off her waist and pressed it deftly over the smooth latex of her hood. Her fingers danced and the rubber sealed itself together, the pink mask looking quite stylish against the white of her catsuit’s hood.
Her mother did the same with her mask and in moments the two were sealed quite nicely in rubber fitted tightly across their faces. Their voices were too muffled for Katherine to make out clearly, but she heard the conversation as the two crossed the avenue and headed to the building marked Gord’s Fountain Bar.
Fountain bars had popped up over two decades before and were now a staple fixture of modern life. They were modeled after the old Soda Fountains of the 20th century, but served only liquefied food and catered almost exclusively to Rubber Society members. Dress code was total rubber enclosure and feeding was via either a drinking tube into the mouth or a naso-gastric tube into the stomach.
Fountain Bars were immensely popular with children. They served ‘junk food’ drinks flavored with such tastes as liquorice, watermelon, grilled beef, bacon, or other umami rich flavors liquefied with sparkling sodas in a variety of flavors. Staff were trained to put on a bit of a show as they prepared and liquefied meals for customers.
Bread was toasted, meat was grilled, eggs were scrambled, chips were fried, cheese was melted, then everything was liquefied right before customers’ eyes, with a flourish and a flair.
Periodically, the staff would break into a song and dance, 8 to 10 young rubberised servers in stark white full enclosure latex uniforms and aprons swirling around the restaurant in choreographed numbers taken from popular modern music, rock tunes from the early days, or even operas such as The Pirates of Penzance.
The liquefied meals were then mixed with carbonated soda in customers’ choice of 31 flavors and the entire mixture poured into large syringes similar to the one Simone had used mounted in Lucite blocks with connectors for feeding tubes. Customers could choose to feed themselves or to submit to the staff and have themselves fed.
If the choice was to be fed, the patron would be restrained in their chair and made to wait patiently until a passing server pressed the plunger on their syringe to deliver another few cubic centimeters of liquefied lunch.
Many Rubber Society members had grown up with and enjoyed the taste of ‘grey goo’, as liquefied food was typically referred to, and took their liquid feedings through the mouth. Heavily committed members, however, typically inserted stomach tubes through their nostrils and connected them to the drinking tube in their gas masks. Like Simone, they never tasted food as it was delivered directly to the stomach.
Watching mother and daughter cross the street to the Fountain Bar, Katherine smiled to herself. “Last week I would never have noticed that pair. Rubber Society members were in my vision but not in my sight. Now, I am tempted to join them!”
She proceeded up her side of the avenue to the Blue Orchid restaurant she and Emily had agreed upon. They had scheduled lunch before Katherine had received her new assignment and she doubted the restaurant catered to Rubber Society members’ gastronomical eccentricities, but she had no worries as she would eat a leisurely lunch without her mask.
Stepping into the cool blue interior, Katherine looked around for her old friend. A moment later she saw her sitting at a table in the back.
“May I help you?” A tall woman dressed in a latex kimono asked her from the hostess station. From her complexion, facial features, and a slight lilt in her accent, Katherine decide she was of Japanese and Brazilian ancestry, probably raised in Scotland.
“I am meeting a friend for lunch. She’s just there,” Katherine gestured.
The hostess smiled, “Of course. Please follow me.” She led Katherine to the table and Katherine noted the look of amazement on Emily’s face when she recognized her university friend.
“Oh Katherine! Is that you? You look lovely. How are you?” Emily stood and air kissed Katherine. She seemed surprised but not at all put off by Katherine’s rubber attire.
The hostess seated Katherine, then departed and the two women were left alone. Katherine said, “Emily, it is great to see you again. How have you been? What are you doing these days?”
Emily, dressed in comfortable black slacks and white shirt, looked Katherine over carefully. “I have been fine. I work as a researcher now, food chemistry research, and have my own lab and staff at Mason Foods. But tell me about yourself. When did you join Rubber Society?”
Katherine laughed. “Not sure I have, dear. I was given an assignment yesterday and to prepare for it I have to wear rubber clothing and gear for about 10 days. Once I am through with the story, covering the presentation of Lord Waldron’s daughter to rubber Society, I may return to normal!”
Emily laughed, the same pretty, lilting laugh Katherine recalled from University. “All that for a story? I thought you were covering the food desk.”
“I was, but Rose, you recall Rose, my boss, she said we were overbooked and appointed me. There is a good promotion in it if I do a good job. But I will probably have to embrace Rubber Society fully to do that.”
Emily’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “Do you think you will? Are you enjoying it?”
“Yes, I am. It has been only a little over 24 hours but I am feeling more and more comfortable in rubber and learning vast amounts about the lifestyle. And I have – urges that I find interesting.”
“What sort of urges?” Emily looked a bit concerned.
“Walking here I passed a woman and her daughter who were headed for the fountain bar. I had, actually still have, an urge to try it and see how tube feeding and grey goo work for me. And I have been giving serious thought to having my head shaved. These hoods and hair do not mix happily all the time.”
Emily smiled. “Well that doesn’t seem too radical. Although I don’t think I could handle the tube feeding. I’ve heard RS members do it, but it seems gross and uncomfortable.”
Katherine winced slightly as her friend used the abbreviation. She decided she would not correct Emily, but would inform her of her minor faux pas. Then she suddenly realized that it was very strange that she, herself, was already sensitive to the term.
“Well my maid is only nourished by tube. The naso-gastric style directly to the stomach as well. She thinks I should give it a try. She’s been putting her own tube in three times a day since childhood.”
“You have a maid?”
“Yes. She is the daughter of Sylvia Sutcliffe who owns Atelier Sutcliffe and who made all my outfits for this little trial run down lifestyle lane. Her name is Simone, she was shipped to my flat in a crate, and she is very efficient, very sexy, very bi, and very enthusiastic!”
Emily covered her mouth as she laughed. “Oh God, that must be fun.”
“So what are you doing aside from food research?”
“Well, I got married and I’m pregnant,” Emily said simply.
“Wow! You did not invite me?” Katherine was just a little hurt.
“Oh dear, we didn’t invite anyone. It was a private ceremony on an island in the Caribbean. One reason I wanted to have lunch was to let you know. You’re the first person I’ve told. Even my parents don’t know yet. I hope you’re not hurt.”
“Oh, well, no, not if you kept it that private. Why so?”
“Well some people, my mum and da in particular, are still freaked out about group marriages. I married into a five person group.”
It was Katherine’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Well! That must be interesting. What is the composition?”
“There’s six of us now. Three and three. I knew Tom and Marie from work and they brought me into the group over a period of a year. Bob and Faisal are the other two men and Cassidy is my other wife. I got engaged to them about 10 months ago and we married 6 weeks ago. It was timed so I would get pregnant on our honeymoon.”
“Who is the lucky dad?”
Emily smiled, “I don’t know. We decided to have everyone gang bang me on our wedding night. I was fucked about 40 times by all five of them. It was incredible. And it might not be one of the boys. Marie and Cassidy both got sperm from a bank and used prosthetics to come in me while they fucked me. God only knows who got there first!”
Katherine was laughing quietly at the image of her friend being the object of a consensual gang bang for five other people, all charged with ready to go sperm.
“Oh my. Did you enjoy it? You must have been so sore after.”
“Yes, I was and yes, I did. One of the reasons I wanted a group marriage was to indulge my fantasy lifestyle. I have long wanted to live a life where I can get fucked lots and lots of times in a single setting. My role is basically that of a sex slave for the other five. They gang bang me three or four times a week and it is just so satisfying. I was a bit tight assed when we first started having sex a couple years ago, but I can take anything anywhere now. It’s always been one of my dearest fantasies and, Katherine, I’m living it now. It’s fantastic.”
“You said sex slave. Is it rough sex, then?” Katherine was interested, but not overly concerned. Her friend looked well and seemed overjoyed at the way her life was going.
Emily nodded. “Yes, it’s a pretty deep BDSM relationship. I gave them the right to use me any way they wish, whenever they wish and I’m at their disposal all the time. Right now I’m allowed to work and have a few hours off for things like this lunch, but I have to clear it with them and I’ll pay for it with punishment later. When I’m at home I’m nude or nearly nude depending on what they want me to wear and I’m collared all the time. See?” Emily pulled the stand up collar of her white blouse down slightly so Katherine could see the black leather collar she wore.
“How will that change? ”
“I’m resigning from the corporation in a few weeks. I’m finishing up a project but after that it’ll be nice to stay at home as my pregnancy progresses. I’m kept in bondage and made available a lot of the time right now. As I get further along, I’m told I’ll be put in a cupboard or a dungeon more than I am now. They plan to keep using me until my last month. Tom’s an OB-GYN and knows how much I and the baby can take safely.
“Then, after the baby’s born I’ll be relegated to a cell and Marie and Cassidy will raise him. It’s a boy, by the way. They plan on getting me pregnant again within a few months of delivery. Essentially, I get to be a brood mare for the family. Marie and Cassidy don’t want to make babies, but they do want to raise children.”
Katherine’s head was spinning. “That is some story. Can I get details from you and write an article about all this? I can change names if you like?”
Emily smiled. “No need to do that. This is a fully public, registered group marriage and most of their friends know they have added me to the group as a slave. I am telling my parents this weekend because I probably won’t see them or anyone else after I am confined to a cell in a few months.”
“And this is the life you want?”
“God yes! You cannot imagine what it feels like to have two men in your cunt simultaneously, a woman’s hand and arm up your ass, and another woman forcing a rubber dick down your throat while the third man whips your butt until you bleed. I can’t come without at least three people fucking me at once. I don’t even get aroused unless two people are forcing me to give in to them. And I’ve discovered I am a true pain slut. I absolutely love the whippings and the beatings. I’m only sorry they have to stop while I’m pregnant.”
Katherine could see her friend getting excited just talking about this new life.
“How did you discover this about yourself?”
“I’ve had multiple partner fantasies and gang bang fantasies since high school. I used to fantasize about two or three of the nuns forcing me to service them and cropping me. I used to get in trouble so I could get six of the best. My school was a throwback to heavy handed discipline and nuns. My parents sent me there because they decided heavy discipline and some corporal punishment would be good for me. The school was mandated by the parents to dish out corporal punishment.
“When I was in university I tried a threesome and a foursome and enjoyed . Always wanted you to join in, but you never seemed interested that way. But something was missing. Then a couple years ago I found a site for BDSM in group marriage and started talking to several members. It was a shock to discover Tom and Marie worked at the same company. We met, I was introduced, we tried some things and I found that the deeper I could submit, the harder they could force me, the more I was happy.”
Katherine was fascinated. She had never noticed this side of her friend. “I am glad you found what you wanted, Emily. You were always a bit unhappy at university.”
“Yes, and now I know what I was missing and what I needed. But you have to grow into these things.”
“I shall not see you again, then, after you go into isolation for your delivery?”
“Oh, perhaps from time to time the family will take me out in public, but I’ll most likely not be in any condition to chat. As I understand it, they intend to really break my identity down and make me somewhat mindless.”
Katherine smiled. “I can imagine that must appeal. Did you think of trying Rubber Society for such a lifestyle? It is certainly capable of providing the isolation and the sensory deprivation to remove identity. I know that just from a little research I did and some of my experiences over the last day.”
“Rubber’s not my thing. I find nudity and leather so very much more pleasurable and sexy. Enclosed as you are now, just would never appeal to me. I suppose I could find a group to join that would also give me the group sex and the deep discipline and sadism I crave, but I don’t think it would ever work as well for me in latex as it does naked and strapped up in leather. When I see Marie approach me in her leather jeans, pulling on a leather fisting glove, I come before she ever gets to me.”
Katherine laughed again. “Whatever does it for you, dear! I am just so happy for you. When is the baby due?”
“I am only a few weeks along, but delivery should be sometime late this year. They plan to get me pregnant every spring.”
“Are you ok with giving the babies up? Seems they really are just looking for a birthing sub.”
“Yes. I’m not that interested in raising babies and wouldn’t even care if the family didn’t want me pregnant. But I love that it’s a sign of my submission to them and I’m looking forward to giving birth every year.”
“What will your family do with all those children?”
“They will be raised as members of the family and, presumably, will start or join groups of their own once grown. There is a growing movement of group marriages and intermarriage between families to keep the diversity high. But there is quite a lot of intra-family incest as well, particularly between mothers and daughters, so Marie and Cassidy may get to have quite a lot of fun in a few years.”
“But you will be out of the loop on that?”
“Who knows? They may send the kids to me on reaching their majority. Many families that practice brood wifery do that. Send each child to the brood wife to use her as their first step into full adulthood. It’ll be no matter to me; I probably won’t even be able to distinguish one from the other, I’ll just be a mindless fuckwit by that time.” Emily gave Katherine a lopsided grin as she said this. Katherine could not help noticing how glowingly happy she looked.
“You will give up not only your research and your career, but your mind and ego as well? Seems an unfortunate waste.”
“Yeah, but It’s so much pleasure to be used that way. Someone else can be the brilliant food chemist. I’ll be the happiest zombie sex slave around.” The big grin again pasted itself on Emily’s face as she contemplated her fate.
The two friends ate their lunch, then stood to leave. Katherine hugged her friend, sad that it was probably for the last time, but happy that Emily had found her true lifestyle.
Walking along after lunching with her happy friend who was now in a deeply submissive relationship, giving herself body and soul to five other people who would treat her as a sex object to be used and then locked away, Katherine marveled at her culture. Group marriage and the cultural acceptance of deep BDSM relationships was just another part of normal life. As was the growing influence of Rubber Society. Her thoughts went back to her conversation with Simone that morning.
Katherine shook her glossy head slightly in amazement. There was so much to learn about Rubber Society. She had never heard these little anecdotes about Rubber Society families before. She always assumed Rubber Society was something you joined when you were older, after graduation or something. It never occurred to her to ask about raising children in an intensely rubberised lifestyle. She thought it was all about sensuality and sensation; children were certainly not involved.
As Rubber Society arose, in the wake of the sexuality equality movement which had raised awareness and acceptance of the wide variety and the near ubiquity of diverse sexual kinks and practices, the stigma of assuming anyone involved must be also involved in child porn, criminal violence or other assaults on societal structure faded away. When your Prime Minister was a rubberist, your friendly doctor was transgendered, your grocer was dressed in leather gimp bondage, it became apparent to the culture as a whole that sexual individuality was the norm, not the exception.
There were still practices which were beyond the pale and not considered acceptable; paedophilia, necrophilia, rape, murder, these were all still quite criminal and quite frowned upon. The defining characteristic of illegal acts was lack of choice. Personal choice had arisen as a strong liberal ideal. One could do what one wished as long as there was adult, informed consent from all involved.
Rubber Society, however, had taken on latex as a philosophical lifestyle. Rather than just donning latex clothing for sex play or for street wear, dedicated rubberists had begun to explore the transcendental nature of latex enclosure, explore latex as a second skin with all that implied. The long time goal of many was to live life completely encased and enclosed by skin tight rubber. That was now possible.
As technologies evolved which made latex more accessible, more comfortable, more affordable, a movement grew up of people wishing to adopt rubber as a medium for entering altered states of consciousness, for following a code of ethics revolving around personal freedom, tolerance, and dedication to a discipline of rubber. Rubber Society was born.
Like most things involving people, Rubber Society evolved and diverged from some of its original ideologies. Many adherents were still fully and fetishistically dedicated to the original discipline, allowing rubber fetish to dictate their lives, their looks, their freedoms, and their hopes and dreams. The existing aristocracy, always a very kinky lot, saw an opportunity to marry their power centres with their fetishes.
In the end a hybrid system evolved. Rubber Society now represented the ruling class in a classless system. Wealth spread rapidly and there was now very little difference between the aristocracy and the common man. All lived a well to do life with few restraints or regulations. The descendants of the those that had formed the aristocracy and the ruling classes were still interested in being apart from the rest of society, but economically or politically they were no more likely to be in power than anyone else.
They chose to create a separate class of society set apart not by their heritage or any sense of economic, genetic, or political superiority, but rather by their fetishistic desires. Out of the original Rubber Society discipline arose a society that craved fetish, sought experience, sensation, and the altered consciousness only available in latex.
People who band together out of a set of beliefs propagate those beliefs through their children. In a world of personal responsibility, children were raised as their parents chose so long as they were not harmed. A society is always defined and extended through adults raising children in that society’s ethics. Rubber Society members raised their children to follow, trust, crave, and love rubber rituals and latex discipline.
It had not taken many generations for Rubber Society members to begin to feel in the world, but not of the world. These were the offspring of the original Rubber Society members. They were raised in rubber, in the rubber discipline of their parents, in the fetishistic rituals of dressing, layering, enclosing, gagging, hooding, gloving, separating themselves from the mundane world. And they did so in public, with no irony, no fear, no rejection.
Their children and grandchildren built Rubber Society into the economic and political power it was in Katherine’s time. Accepted now, throughout society, members of Rubber Society took up posts in government, in business, in education. While those not in rubber were accepted, those who sought rubber were welcomed with open arms, enveloped and then trained to follow their heart’s desires, be they dominant, submissive, neutral, female, male, or anywhere in between.
Other fetishes also had support and acceptance for their members and people chose the environment they found most comfortable. Hence the group marriage centered around sadomasochism that Emily had joined. Collared slaves existed in all ranks of society from blue collar to white. Fetishes which were more difficult to accept were still allowed and supported by groups anywhere in the world. Nothing that was consensual was banned. Public display of it might be frowned upon in some cases, but everyone now understood that everyone was unique and followed their own path to happiness and contentment.
Katherine stopped a moment as she walked down the street and put on her gas mask, sealing it tightly to her rubbered face. A couple in bright red rubber dresses watched and perhaps smiled as she did so. Then she strode up the street, her fashionable latex outfit projecting confidence and kink in equal amounts. She looked with new eyes through mirrored gas mask lenses at the people around her.
As she walked, her heels sounding like pistol shots in the afternoon air, her rubber gloved hands and arms instinctively posed in a sensuous manner to hold her fetishistic purse, her gait severely constrained by the stretch of her latex hobble skirt and her fully encapsulated head smoothly gleaming in the bright sunshine, she caught sight of herself in a storefront window. Eyeing her image critically, she thought, “I need to get to my hair stylist!”
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story to be continued in part eleven
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