© Copyright 2014 - LatexLadyLL - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-F; FF; FF/mf; D/s; latex; clothing; catsuits; corset; hood; mask; multilayer; office; chairs; slaves; forniphilia; objectify; bdsm; crop; climax; cons; X
Katherine exited the automated cab as gracefully as she had entered. Her tall white latex figure drew admiring glances from the passers-by as she stepped to the entrance of the News and Entertainment building, a tall black glass monolith of a structure from the previous century.
Walking through the building lobby, she was conscious of the stares of others, both the rubbered and the unrubbered. She decided confidence was the best option and walked in quick, if tiny, steps to the security portal.
The portal’s scan took a moment or two longer to recognize her than usual but, just as a security guard was making his way to her, the light turned green and the security gate opened. Scanning technology was very accurate now and the fact that she was sealed in layers of latex caused no problem for the recognition software. It used her retinas, because they were available, and her body dimensions as scanned through her outfit. It used several other indicators to develop a high confidence of her identity. The extra time was in the recognition system learning and integrating the new patterns presented by a latex encased Katherine with those already on file.
The guard glanced at the ID display on her wrist band and was surprised to see that this stylishly dressed vision of a totally rubberised businesswoman was Katherine Duane, normally one of the most traditionally dressed journalists in the building. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but that was nothing compared to the sudden stirring in her loins under their layers of latex lingerie. She watched as Katherine made her hobbled way to the elevators, gleaming white latex suit undulating with each step, spike heels clicking on the marble floor.
The guard removed her latex uniform cap and wiped her forehead, suddenly damp despite the 21 degree lobby temp. She made her way back to her desk, smiling slightly, straightening her stiff, double breasted military style rubber uniform jacket and smoothing her very tight knee length rubber pencil skirt. Her latex thigh boots creaked slightly as she sat down and watched the lobby, elevator, and hallway monitors to follow Katherine’s mincing progress. “Wait ‘til I tell Maggie about this,” she thought, visions of her submissive girlfriend playing across her thoughts.
Others in the busy lobby, most dressed traditionally, also turned their heads to follow the latex apparition’s progress. Katherine, peripheral vision non-existent due to the gasmask goggles and neck held rigid by the severe collar corset, did not notice. She simply walked straight as an arrow to the lift on the back wall.
The lift doors opened at her approach and she stepped in. “My office,” she said.
Recognizing her voice, despite the muffling of gas mask and the resistance of rubber hood, the lift began to move upward. While not precisely ‘intelligent’ the lift could work out that if the person saying ‘my office’ was Katherine, then it must take her to the seventeenth floor upon which her office was situated.
Moments later the doors opened and Katherine re-entered her workplace, now as a properly dressed, somewhat probationary member of Rubber Society. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering a bit still, but the walk through the city and the drink with Richard Cranston had done much to convince her that she was looking good, properly dressed, and no more of an anomaly than anyone else.
In this day and age, a woman walking through the city sealed in latex, gas masked and hobbled, was nothing new. No one would bat an eye or give her a second look for being rubberised.
A stunningly figured, immaculately dressed, outstandingly behatted woman in sparkling white latex and outlandishly high spikes, on the other hand, would still cause heads to turn. But, Katherine thought, that was all to the good.
As she walked over to her office, she could hear gasps and quiet twitters of conversation. Many were probably wondering who this person was, but, stepping into her office and sitting down at her desk decidedly put that issue to bed.
Katherine removed her hat and set it on the desk before her. Looking around, she thought, “I may have to acquire a hat rack if I keep wearing things like this!” She then proceeded to peel the white gas mask from her face and head, fully exposing the black rubber helmet beneath.
Her colleague on the food desk, Mary, had jumped up and followed the rubber apparition into Katherine’s office. “K-Katherine? What’s going on?”
Katherine looked at her, assuring Mary that this was truly Katherine Duane before her, albeit sealed in rubber.
“I have, apparently, joined Rubber Society.
“Today, largely over lunch,” Katherine grinned. “Rose sent me to Atelier Sutcliffe to get a gown for Lucretia Waldron’s coming out and I emerged like this.”
“It’s gorgeous! But I never knew you had a thing for rubber.” Mary herself was a dabbler. The occasional latex pencil skirt and maybe a saucy dress for clubbing. But she would never have considered total enclosure, an exquisite designer suit, or a full head gas mask. Not in public.
“I know, I know,” Katherine said laughing. “It’s not really ‘me’, is it. But Sylvia Sutcliffe says I need to wear latex this week to get ready for the ball and Rose apparently picked up the tab. Rather, N&E did. I have about 40 boxes of latex couture waiting for me at home by now. This was the office suit she put me in.”
“It’s amazing. You look a lot like Rose, to be honest.”
“I noticed that. Apparently, Rose picked this one out for them to send me out in. Not a bad choice, though.”
“What gown are you wearing to the coming out ball?” Mary began to get more interested and less surprised.
“Long, slinky, hobbling, sparkling, corseted, red. That’s about all there is to it. “
“Are you getting surgery to fit it?”
“No! It is being fitted to me! It won’t be finished until next week. Though, come to think of it, I don’t know why it should take that long? These items were mostly fabbed up while I was there. They scanned me and everything fits perfectly, of course.”
Mary sniffed slightly at Katherine’s indignation. “Oh, old school, eh? Everyone in RS just gets altered to fit the gowns these days.”
“Rubber Society. Having yourself tailored is sort of the rage in that sector.”
“I didn’t know. This is a temporary thing for me, so I’m not likely to do that. Not even for a move to the Society desk.”
“Are you moving to Society?” Mary was definitely interested in that. If Katherine moved over, she could move up.
“If I do a good job on covering Lucretia, Rose says I could be moved to Society very soon.”
“So, you have to learn to look good in latex? All the time?”
“Acclimated is the word Sylvia used. She said I needed to get acclimated to it over the week until my gown is ready.”
“Wow. Well you certainly dived in with both feet! But I guess that makes sense. If you move to the Society desk, you’ll have to be in rubber all the time.”
Mary’s words pulled Katherine up short. “I hadn’t thought of that. But it’s true, I’ll have to dress and act as a member of Rubber Society virtually all the time, won’t I?”
“No virtually about it. Rose and both her assistants are 24/7 in that lifestyle. They have to be to maintain credibility with the Rubberists. Of course, Rose was born to Rubber, so it isn’t hard for her. But her two assistants, James and Jill? They had to make the commitment to adopt the lifestyle. Talk to Rose about it.”
“Well, either way, you look fantastic and I’m very happy for your chance. Do a good job, Katherine. I want your office!” Mary smiled as she said it, her tone joking, but Katherine knew she meant it too. Competition was fierce at N&E. Lead writer on the Food desk was not the best job in the publisher, but it was far better than where either Katherine or Mary had started.
Mary left and Katherine spent a few minutes straightening her desk and making sure she had everything she wanted to work on over the weekend stored in her cloud. Checking the clock, she saw it was near 15.00, quitting time.
She had not really worked on anything for her posting on the new standards for vat grown meat, other than a bit this morning, but she’d certainly spent the rest of her five hour day working on Rose’s assignment. And, she decided, that included the drink with Richard, although, she had to admit, that had not felt much like work.
But, it was Thursday afternoon and everyone was already packing up for the weekend. The journalists and assistants who had come in before her were already leaving, some staring into her office through the glass to catch sight of their newly rubbered colleague.
Some of the office staff were in latex, but only two were as heavily rubbered as she and Rose. James and Jill, Rose’s Society Desk assistants, walked out together. James was in very heavy rubber, a black thick rubber catsuit with bondage harness locked on.
His arms and legs were secured by straps to his body such that most of his range of motion was limited. He took steps not as short as Katherine, but not much longer. And he was in knee high ballet boots.
His crotch was decorated with a red rubber codpiece and within that his genitals were probably, Katherine thought, bound, caged, and catheterized. James was a notorious submissive and enjoyed being put on display by his husband, a much older man, deeply into rubber bondage and torment, more psychological than physical.
The outfit that James wore included a serious breath control mask with twin re-breather bags and a cracking valve set to only open with significant suction. James got about five minutes of breathable air out of his re-breathers before he became desperate and his sucking for air finally opened the cracking valve. That not only let in fresh air to his lungs, but activated small pumps in his elaborate mask. The pumps refilled both re-breathers with fresh air, then cut them selves off.
However, while the pumps ran, James received stinging electrical shocks to his nipples, penis and scrotum. Lights in his catsuit, on his nipples and in the codpiece, illuminated whenever the shocks were being delivered to let everyone know that he was being punished for breathing. James was a submissive but not a true pain seeking masochist. He did not enjoy the shocks at all. Thus, the rig encouraged him to learn to stretch his breathing control his instinctive need for air. James had designed the rig himself and delivered it to his husband as a third anniversary gift. He was required to wear it at random times on his husband’s whim.
Jill, on the other hand, was dressed in much more stylish and conservative office attire. Her semi transparent red latex day dress was slim, sleek, and professional. The bodice was tightly fitted and it strained provocatively against her D cup latex ‘bullet’ bra. The dress was high collared and had three quarter length sleeves.
The skirt was slightly flared and ended mid calf. She wore a black total enclosure suit under it, with a half mask hood. Her eyes and nose were covered, but her cheeks and lips were exposed. Perforated patches ensured she could still see. The gloved sleeves of the skinsuit emerged from the sleeves of the red dress giving the effect of luxuriously gloved arms.
A black rubber corset with red piping brought her figure to the requisite 40 cm necessary for the dress to fit. The colour scheme set off her café au lait complexion perfectly. She wore latex ankle boots with a 5 cm platform for 25 cm heels.
Jill was telling James what she had planned for her submissive boyfriend over the weekend. Katherine caught the words ‘Celeb’, ‘vacuum’, ‘kimono’, ‘geisha’, and ‘shibari’ as they passed. Watching them pass, Katherine thought about her own plans for the weekend. She had planned three days of writing and lounging around her flat. She suspected that had changed now, beginning with dinner tonight.
She picked up the white rubber gas mask from her desk and slipped it back on, adjusting it to be comfortable and still quiet when she breathed. Then, taking her broad brimmed latex hat and new purse in hand, she walked down toward Rose’s office. As she passed in front of Jill and James she wished them a good weekend. She heard James take a sudden breath and Jill said, “Wow! Uh, you have a good weekend, too, Katherine.”
“I fully intend to! Good night, you two. Have fun.”The Conversation
She knocked once on Rose’s corner office door. Rose’s office had no interior windows, so she had perfect privacy. Katherine heard the door lock click open and a disembodied voice said, “Come.”
She pushed open the door and stepped in. Rose was standing, her back to the door, looking out the windows of the seventeenth floor. To one side a rubber encased personal slave stood in a wall niche, breathing slowly. Large breasts and a rubber sheathed phallus made its gender indeterminate and its suit appeared to have no openings whatsoever, even at the nostrils. Its neck was collared with a steel collar from which steel arms were suspended. On one of these arms a white rubber hat hung.
In front of the desk, another rubber slave was inverted and bound to a swivel chair. Also indeterminate as to gender, this one was clothed in black rubber with white rubber bondage straps restraining it to the chair base. The folding of its body to form a chair cushion and back left its face pointed upward such that any occupant of the chair would face sit the slave. A similar chair and rubber slave, all in white rubber with black straps, was placed behind the desk; this was Rose’s personal chair.
Rose turned from the window. Her outfit was the same startling white suit it had been this morning, smoothly fitted over the gleaming black skinsuit. But now, she sported a white rubber gas mask, identical to Katherine’s. She looked at Katherine’s suit, the tailored jacket, the hobble skirt of sleek white latex.
“Two bloody peas in a pod, aren’t we?” Rose’s voice emerged from the gas mask and Katherine had an image of what she herself looked like and sounded like in this new integument.
“You specified what they should put me in for the day.”
“Yes, yes. It looks absolutely lovely. How does it feel?”
“Amazingly comfortable. The gas mask took a bit of getting used to, but I did ok. It slides on and off much more easily than I expected.”
“Yes, Sylvia’s a design wonder. I see you have one of those little gas mask purses she made up. My niece and nephew each wear those same gas masks to school every day.”
They make a perfect handbag. Stylish, avant. I like it.” Katherine twirled the gas mask bag by its strap.
“Sit down, Katherine. We need to chat.”
Katherine stepped over to the forniphilic chair and seated herself comfortably, the slave’s head covered by the tight white rubber of her skirt. Katherine did not think about suffocating the slave; apparently it would survive somehow.
Having been in Rose’s office many times before, she was quite accustomed to Rose’s unusual office décor. But she had never sat in the chair while she herself was in latex. Somehow, it seemed to be more comfortable this way.
The three rubber slaves who served as furniture in Rose’s office were long time submissive slaves to her. They had all voluntarily undergone surgery to be made hermaphroditic, be endowed with outsized secondary sexual characteristics, to have highly flexible spines, and to be comfortable as furniture. They were able, thanks to Rose’s particular fetishes, to enjoy exactly the lifestyle they craved.
Two of the slaves had started out as husband and wife before the surgical transformations. Rose could not recall which ones now. They, quite properly, all looked alike.
Katherine settled further into the human chair. “I have a question.”
“Sylvia has set me up with a full wardrobe. She thinks I need to acclimate to latex before showing up in a rubber gown at the ball. Was that your idea or hers?”
“Actually, that was hers. I think it is a wonderful one. It will help prepare you for the Society Desk – assuming you get it, of course.”
Katherine discovered a benefit of carrying on a conversation behind rubber masks; Rose could not see her smile. “Do you have any idea how much latex she gave me?”
“The bill has already been presented and paid, Katherine. It is an investment in your career development.”
“And I thank you for it. But what do you really have in mind for me?”
“That you should move onto the Society desk, as I said.”
“Why the big wardrobe, then? The one gown would do. This latex is not that hard to wear.”
Behind her gas mask, Rose sighed. “Yes, well, there are – obligations – associated with being on the Society desk. Things the covering journalist is expected to do to retain credibility with the members of Rubber Society.”
“Yes, effectively. The person covering Rubber Society is expected to live like a member, not just dress up for parties.”
“Live like a member – as you do.”
“Well, I am a member of Rubber Society. I was born into it and would never think of leaving. I encase, confine, and constrain myself all the time, even alone at home, because I love it so much. And I love the - machinations – associated with my being a member. But I cannot cover that desk forever. I am moving up to a higher position here at N&E and a replacement is needed. I nominated you to Lord Reynolds and the selection committee. Rubber Society members all, I might add.”
Katherine’s journalistic instincts twitched. “Moving up? What position are you taking?”
Rose took a while before answering. Taking Katherine into her confidence had some risks. “I have been appointed the new Publisher in Chief of the entire N&E corporation. The new MD.”
“My god, Rose! That’s wonderful!”
“Thank you. It is final, but not announced, so that was off the record.”
“Of course.’ Katherine sat back a bit and felt the rubber slave under her shift its body to accommodate Katherine’s new position.
“So, why me for the Society desk.”
“Well, you show the most promise.”
“Rose, I cover food. My next article is on the new standards for vat grown meat being issued by the Union of Nippon and the Two Koreas. Standards coming out of the UN2K is not world breaking news. What promise have I shown?”
Rose laughed. “Not journalistic promise, dear. Although your skills there are exemplary. High integrity, good writing, and a real nose for a story. But no, you show tremendous promise for embracing the rubberist lifestyle”.
“Me? I have never worn rubber before today.”
“But you have a sensuality about you, and a ritualistic personality that is rare to find. I have watched you grow toward a true fetishist for the last few years here and brought you to Lord Reynolds’ attention. He is in agreement with me.”
“The two of you think I will embrace the rubberist lifestyle? Live totally in latex as you and he do?”
Rose shifted in her chair and pressed her buttocks down more firmly on the chair’s rubberised head. The chair moaned slightly at this. Picking up a riding crop which sat on her desk, Rose began to stroke the chair’s exposed surfaces, lightly. More moans, very low, escaped from somewhere in the rubber bundle.
“We think you already have.” Rose’s head nodded to one side, drawing Katherine’s attention to her own right hand. Without realizing it, Katherine had picked up a similar crop on her side of the desk and begun stroking her own chair. It too, moaned. She was startled to see what she was doing.
“You have a certain - coolness about you. An acceptance of the rubber lifestyle. The fact that these chairs are living human beings and that we may, with impunity, caress, stimulate, crop, or even kill them seems to not disturb you at all as it does most of what we call the latex challenged.”
Katherine scoffed, “The people these chairs were signed away their humanity according to the law. I presume they did because I know you have tremendous integrity. They are fully property now. Why should I be uncomfortable about their status. They exercised their right to become objects. If you choose to allow them to still experience any sensation at all that is up to you and they are probably grateful – not that it matters.”
“Precisely. That attitude on your part tells me you have accepted the primary tenets of rubberism and have already joined our philosophical ranks. You just needed the wardrobe!” Rose ended with a chuckle.
Katherine laughed lightly herself. By now both women were steadily cropping their chairs on the exposed rubber of each chair’s side . The chairs moaned in ecstasy.
“So, what now? I spend the next week in rubber and cover Lucretia’s coming out and take over the Society desk?”
“Something like that. You will, I think, find it an interesting week and I want to know what you decide to do when in private. Do you stay sealed as we do? Or do you opt for the more convenient process of wearing rubber to the office and taking it off after you get home?”
“What do you want me to do? What do you expect?”
“Not my decision, dear. You have to determine if it suits you as a lifestyle. Before I can give you this desk, you have to demonstrate that you are committed to joining Rubber Society as much as the young lady you are going to cover. And even that will not make you a member. Membership in Rubber Society is hereditary. The only exception is the very few occurrences of a Rubber Society member marrying a person from outside any Rubber Society family. That seldom happens. And must be approved by the High Conclave of Rubber Lords.”
“But you expect me to adopt the lifestyle wholeheartedly if I want the position.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you expect me to continue the lifestyle even if I leave the Society desk?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Because I expect you to become a complete convert to the Rubber Society lifestyle. I expect that you will not want to leave that lifestyle no matter what you are doing.”
“What do you mean by complete convert?” Katherine found herself enjoying the opportunity to grill her superior and she thought she knew where this was headed.
“I expect you will discover your inner pervert, if you will. I do not know whether you are dom or sub, gay or straight, into pain or pleasure, a princess or a witch. You may not either. But I suspect that you will enjoy discovering the answers and letting us all know by your style, your actions, your choices. That is one of the greatest benefits of the Rubber Society lifestyle. Total ability to present your deepest, darkest inner being to the world without fear of condemnation or reprisal.”
“Yes, dear, I do!” Rose became excited. “What you see before you is what I want to be, how I want to be. I absolutely crave the sensations associated with rubber enclosure, encasement, confinement, constraint. Every movement of my body sends ripples of pleasure through my intellectual being. I was raised in rubber and I have never been out of it. I was also raised to take vast sexual pleasure from both it and others’ reaction to it!
“I am dominant and sadistic! I am caring of my property, but uncaring of its feelings! I love being a bit sociopathic! And I love that there are people such as these chairs used to be who want and can have the complement. Who want to be owned, used, objectified, dehumanized, and ultimately discarded! Rubber Society gives us all that!”
Katherine looked at Rose, who was trembling in her chair as she continued to beat it relentlessly and realized the latex encased woman was growing sexually excited. Katherine felt her heart speed up. The latex enclosing her seemed to hug her closer.
Rose paused a few moments, collecting herself, then continued with even more intensity, “But Rubber Society also gives us people who want simply to be sealed and loved, wear constrictive clothing and look stylish, wear loose clothing and be shiny, be gagged in public and be fed through tubes, create art from their very lives! There are many in Rubber Society who have few perversions. There are others who are so bizarre they seem barely human. All are accepted and encouraged. And, it turns out, there are complementary partners for all of them!”
As she spoke, Rose intensified the cropping of her chair. Each blow sounded like a loud crack, as if a starting pistol had gone off. Katherine had, reflexively, continued cropping her own chair. Suddenly, both chairs moaned louder than before and began rhythmically trembling under the women’s buttocks, waves of pleasure running through their once human forms.
Katherine had never had anyone achieve climax beneath her arse. While she had certainly had partners who stimulated her orally, she had never felt a person come while she sat on their face. It was unbelievable to feel this once human thing quivering with pleasure as she continued to rain blow upon blow against its rubberised form. Both women, responding to the mutual orgasms of their furniture, became yet more excited, grinding their buttocks deeper into the moaning faces of their rubber furniture.
The whole scenario, rubberised living furniture, Rose trembling in excitement, the chairs themselves experiencing climax brought about by use and abuse, and the sensation of rubberised facial features crushed against latex sheathed buttocks was too bizarre and exciting to ignore. With no initial buildup, Katherine suddenly found herself on the edge of climax and slipped over just as Rose did so as well.
The two women, almost identically dressed in stark white and black latex, gas masks and rubber hoods obscuring their features, breasts straining against tight rubber bodices, black rubber gloved arms emerging from tight white latex sleeves, legs clamped together by the elastic resistance of their latex skirts, could do nothing but stare at each other across the large desk as they slipped over the line of reason into mindless explosions of pure rubberised pleasure.
Her first ever orgasm in latex was a shock to Katherine. She had always had a good sex life, fun partners, few inhibitions, and found sex fun, pleasurable, and relaxing. But this was different. The diffuse, full body sensations of her usual climax were seemingly reflected by her rubber integument. Like waves rippling in phase back and forth through her body, the sensation built and built until it seemed to explode through her mind, not just her body. The effect was like a laser bursting through her mind and she lost all sense of the world outside her rubber encasement for a while.
She was adrift in a white out, no sight, no sound, no sensation except that of her mind reeling from the constant touch and pressure of her rubber encapsulation. It seemed as if it would never end and, for a while, Katherine expected and hoped she would die while in this fugue state.
Slowly, the world returned. The first thing Katherine noticed was her white rubber masked reflection gazing at her across the desk. After what seemed like long minutes, she realized she was not staring into a mirror, but rather looking at Rose. The second thing she noticed was that her eyes were blurry and wet. She was weeping, silently, from the experience.
The chair beneath her was quivering, but settling down. She found she was still holding the crop in an unsteady hand gloved in wrinkle free black latex, each finger wrapped loosely around the handle and brought it gently down on the exposed rubber of her chair, caressing it gently. The chair slave trembled at the touch, perhaps expecting more blows and pain, perhaps desiring them.
Rose went through somewhat the same slow winding down from the explosive orgasm. She trembled for a bit and then seemed to recover and compose her rubbered form. She even smoothed the tight white latex skirt nervously, despite its unwrinkled perfection. Katherine matched the motion of Rose’s gleamingly gloved arms against her own taut white skirt.
“Ah,” said Rose, striving for nonchalance, “You see what intensity a commitment to rubber can bring.”
“And you think I am like that at heart?” Katherine was a bit taken aback by her own reaction which continued even now with gentle aftershocks of pleasure that seemed to ripple through her entire rubberised form. Her vagina performed unprompted Kegels as her labia pulsed with every beat of her still racing heart. “So this is what rubber does for you, sexually,” she thought.
Rose seemed to have recovered her composure and Katherine could not tell if the woman was experiencing the same effects of continuing pleasure she was. “I think your love of ritual, your sensuality, and your keen intellect will find being rubberised totally addictive and that you will never want to go back to wool suits after you cover Lord Waldron’s daughter’s coming out.”
Neither woman seemed eager to discuss their experience of a few moments ago. At some level, Katherine wanted to, but also felt there was no need. It was as if she knew exactly what Rose has felt and Rose knew what she had felt. The nonchalance of their continuing conversation seemed to say, “this is a normal thing that happens to rubberists. Like a contagious yawn, or shared tears. It needs no discussion.”
Katherine shook her gas masked head in wonder. “Well, that is a lot to take in, Rose.” The double entendre of her statement was lost on no one. “I thank you for the confidence and I will endeavour to cover Lucretia Waldron’s presentation in the finest way possible. For the rest we shall have to wait and see, But...” she said standing and replacing the crop on the desk, “I have a dinner date this evening and need to go find out what all Sylvia sent me in the way of a cocktail dress.”
Katherine placed the white latex hat once more on her head, making sure it was tilted about as far to one side as she could. A couple of surreptitious presses and it seemed to adhere magically.
“May I ask who you are dining with? My god, you look stunning in that hat! I may have to punish Sylvia quite firmly for making you so beautiful.”
”Sir Richard Cranston was so taken with this look that he asked me to dinner at Bondi’s tonight.”
“Sir Richard? My, my, I am impressed. “
“Do you know him?”
“I know of him. Nephew to Lord Cranston, very well respected in the world of fine arts and museum work. Very wealthy, and a man of high integrity. Unmarried, about your age, and not known for a decadent lifestyle, just a fetishistic one.”
“Is he trustworthy? A gentleman? He actually reversed his direction on the street and followed me into a hotel bar to meet me. I was a bit taken aback by the action, to be honest.”
“As far as I know, yes, he’s a perfect gentleman. That he followed you off the street probably indicates how taken he is with you. But I am certain he can be trusted to be a gentleman – whatever that means. There has never been a hint of scandal. He’s dated a lot. A bit parochial in his tastes – always dates women, never seems to have taken a man to bed.”
“Nothing wrong with being straight.”
“Agreed. But you know how many young men and women experiment for a while until they discover their true orientation.”
“True. Well, I am looking forward to dinner at Bondi’s. We are dining at 9.”
“You’ll catch the evening show, then. Bondi’s always puts on a lovely fetish floor show. Not too tasteful, not too staid.”
“I’ve never been.”
“Of course not, dear. The dress code is total rubber enclosure. Be sure to wear a gag.”
“Yes, everyone is expected to be gagged when they enter. Then you replace it with a gas mask when you are seated. Most patrons re-gag themselves after desert for the show. Keeps things most quiet and civilized.”
“Rose, are you winding me up?”
“No dear, check out their online presence. Dress code, protocol, menu, show times, it’s all there. I have dinner their at least three times a month and love it. But you do have to enter gagged.”
“Anything I should wear specifically?”
“Evening gown, not a cocktail dress. Think the 2080’s or the 1930’s. Floor length, sexy, confining, hobbling, drapey, slinky, sparkling, rubber. Something that looks like it will fall off easily, but with a full enclosure suit underneath. He’ll be in black tie, so make it formal – with a train.”
“Many women surrender the use of their arms, wearing a straitjacket under their gown or a bondage gown that keeps them from having any range of motion above the waist. Sylvia is bound to have included something appropriately restraining. That’s the best thing”.
Laughing, she continued, “Hell, Katherine, I am dominant, yet I always appear in a severe armbinder with a steel cross bar and penetration pole between my legs. I love having to stand all night in rigid posture while my companion must feed me and tend to my other needs.”
Katherine laughed, “Alright, I shall go appropriately confined and constrained.” As she walked to the door, her composure fully restored after the orgiastic scene earlier, Katherine told herself, “I will look at their online presence, though – just to be sure.”
Mincing her way to the door and out into the hallway, headed, finally, for home and a nice, if too short, weekend, Katherine heard Rose call out behind her, “I shall expect a full report on Monday , my dear. A full report!”
Katherine made her way to the elevator, her little gas mask purse swinging jauntily on her arm. The orgasm had relaxed her, but, in some way, primed her for evening fun to come. Fantasies of Richard and herself in bed flitted through her mind until she realized she was trying to envision him naked. “That won’t likely happen”, she told herself, “We will most likely be fully rubbered if I understand anything about this new lifestyle I’m exploring.”
Stepping out onto the pavement, she noted the rain had stopped leaving the city with a clean, almost electric scent. The afternoon light gave a pleasant glow to the city around her. While ordinarily she would walk the twenty blocks to her building as she had that morning, Katherine realized that was not going to happen.
“I shall be late for dinner in five hours if I try that.” The vision of herself mincing along in the supremely tight latex catsuit under the hobbling skirt and waist reducing corset, her hat jauntily sitting at its usual rakish angle made her laugh.
Katherine raised her rubbered arm and signaled an automated taxi passing by. “Two auto taxis in one day. I usually don’t do that, but the older style just will not work for a lady in latex restraint.”
The taxi pulled to the kerb, slid open its door and extended its seat in a well coordinated invitation. Katherine sat down primly and the seat retracted and swiveled itself into the taxi. She gave the name of her building and they were off.
Katherine spent the ride searching and reviewing the Bondi’s restaurant site. She found everything Rose had said was true. “Strange, I’ve never even thought to cover this place for N&E. How have I passed it up? Because of the Rubber Society connection?”
Thoughts of Rose’s conversation with her, the implications Rose had laid out and the intense pleasure she had enjoyed occupied her for the rest of the ride.
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