No Bounds Esoteric Society

Chapter 1: The Essay

Sleep came quickly. Exhausted from the day's exercises, I was asleep within seconds. I had time to only ask myself, "How did I come to this?" before the exhaustion took me. Maybe it was better this way. Any thoughts of the before time were both useless and would just keep me awake, cutting in on my precious few hours to rest before it all began again. The cycle had repeated itself enough times now that I knew the routine, six hours of sleep and 24 hours of merciless attention.

How many cycles I had gone through by now, I can't remember. I only know that the cycles last 30 hours, 24 hours of endlessly exquisite torture followed by the sleep. The torture is exquisite. There is no doubt of that, cunning in its originality, absolute in its results. I was being transformed into a totally dependent and mind-controlled slave, a slave to sensual latex and latex dominated bondage.

This is my final assignment before I am consigned to my final fate. I am ordered to write a memoir of my flawed life that will cease in its current path upon the finish of this essay. I haven't been told what is next, only that I will get all that I deserve based on my essay. I have been told to be honest in all regards. I chose to start with a brief paragraph of my current predicament before going to the beginning.

I'm fifty years old and have carried a fascination with latex since I was three. Yes, I know I was three when I first became attracted to rubber. I actually remember my sister's pink rubber raincoat and how I would play in it in our house. I'm not sure what the attraction to it was, the smooth surface, or the heat I felt inside its rubberized cotton folds. Suffice to say I was very attached to that raincoat. My dad even took pictures of me in it.

Then we moved to Washington State and in the basement of the new house was a pair of heavyweight rubber hip boots. Now these I really took a liking to these. They were black and went all the way my legs. I think this was the real beginning of my love of latex. Every time I put those boots on and pulled up those long cuffs, they would push right against my little boy nuts and my little boy cock would grow hard as the thick rubber tops rubbed against me. I wore those boots as often as I could. I always had to take a pee soon after putting them on. I sort of knew there was something different about what I felt as I wore them and I began to wonder about it. I began to wait until I was alone in the house to play in the boots. That happened a couple of times a week when my mother went to shop. I would look into the dark cavern of canvass and rubber and slowly push my foot into the maw. Falling under the influence of the rubber, I would wait for my little cock to respond. I had plenty of opportunity to enjoy my little boy erections and wonder at what they meant.

Soon I wanted to wear the boots outside in creeks and streams. I went wading regularly in places and marveled at the protection from the water afforded by the boots. Those boots were the greatest. I even sneaked them to bed once when I was eight. I couldn't sleep one bit while I wore them and I finally realized I would have to take them off if I wanted any sleep.

I had a wonderful gray raincoat that I would wear with the hip boots and go out in the Pacific Northwest rain. I loved to feel the cold rain drumming on the rubber coat and watch the water run off in little riverlettes. Dry and warm inside, I knew the feeling was right for me.

Many moves and the old boots left behind I reached the age of puberty. My love of rubber never faltered. My first nocturnal awakening into manhood was a dream about being up to my hips in mud and wearing boots! I seldom had dreams of naked girls, but I had plenty about rubber boots and raincoats, either with girls or me wearing them. By now I owned a pair of chest waders. One day I stripped to my shorts, pulled on the waders and a pullover rubber rain parka. I pulled on a pair of kitchen gloves and lay on my bed. In the summer afternoon heat, I felt the sweat rolling off my skin inside this outfit. I lay still as the sweat tickled me. My cock grew hard and the tingling surge of passion rushed through me and I came spontaneously. I knew about morals and sin and I immediately stripped the gear from me. I was so shocked and repulsed by what happened. Only three days later, I was dressed that way again. I was hooked on rubber for the rest of my life.

I started to collect wetsuits, rain gear, gloves and boots. I dressed in layers of these bulky things. I wore the rain suits reversed so the rubber was against my skin. I taped the cuffs at my wrists and ankles before pulling on a wetsuit. I found the most wonderful stocking foot waders, Seal-Dri, made from pure dipped latex. These waders had nothing to get between me and my love of rubber. Under a wetsuit with chest waders, raingear and gloves as the outer layer was pure heaven.

I lived in this rubberized world of conventional protective clothing and boots for twenty-five years. How many wetsuits and waders and rain suits I bought and wore out in my passion, I cannot remember. All I knew was that I had to get encased in these wonderful garments two or three times a week and work myself into impassioned carnal frenzy. Sometimes I lie in my cocoon and let my raging rod wait for me to finally succumb to my animal desire and take myself over the edge into animal bliss. My breath hot and fast, the tingling rage spreading from my groin, I rode the ecstasy of the moment until my spent passion heralded the desire to strip the clothes from me. I soon learned to wait several minutes for that initial claustrophobic surge to pass and I again would feel the growing tingle deep inside the gear as my cock stirred again. I discovered the joy of long-term sessions and multiple trips of lust. I found that I couldn't sleep in the gear but I did find a certain peaceful bliss that was refreshing after several hours in rubberized lust. My rubber lust was sated through these sessions for 25 years.

Then I discovered the world of fetish latex clothing and the true wonders of collecting and dressing on clothing made exactly for what I used it. I collected catsuits, gloves, hoods, a wading suit, sheath briefs, tee shirts, gas masks, and sleep sacks. I thought about enclosing myself in layers of rubber much of my day. I spent hours at night and days on weekends completely dressed in layers of rubber. Each time I started dressing, I felt my entire being surrender to the allure of latex.

My typical session included four or five tight latex layers caressing my body from the crown of my head to the tip of my toes. The tight rubber squeezed me in its sensual grip. My cock, aroused and hot, waited for the right moment to complete my passionate journey in rubber. I would read my rubber fetish magazines, marveling at the beauty of the models clothed in shiny rubber. I loved the kinky pictures of bound and tied rubberists subjected to all manner of erotic pleasure. I would spend hours on-line chatting with other people who enjoyed the touch of rubber. My nickname, sealedinrbrbill, said it all. I dreamed of a day when I might meet some of these anonymous chatters who shared my secret. I wrote tales of rubberism and was published on-line. I spent longer amounts of time dressing myself, devising ingenious ways to lock myself in.

I froze keys in bottles then locked the bottles in places where I couldn't easily thaw the ice. I learned that putting keys inside a wet towel and freezing the towel was a wonderful means of securing the escape tools for a few hours. When I took trips I found that leaving the keys in an envelope at the hotel desk with delivery instructions for the next morning was a way to achieve some loss of control regarding the rubberizing. The first time I did that and I snapped the lock on the cord after putting on my layers, I felt such a surge in my belly that I fell to the bed and exploded right then. It was my first spontaneous cum in years. As the passion subsided and I wanted to climb out of the gear, I realized that I was inside it at least another twelve hours. That just caused my cock to surge again within minutes and I was rocked by my second ejaculation. Then I settled down to some cyber chats and waited for the next surge to come. Soon even these sessions became routine. The spontaneous explosions of passion subsided and other stimulus had to be added.

Once I drove 300 miles to another town and mailed myself a package with key to a lock in it. I got home that night after a 600-mile round trip. I had eaten nothing all day. Less than an hour from home I took laxatives. Those final miles were difficult as the medicine began to take effect. I stopped at a service station near my house for the first set of cramps then made it on home. The cramps continued for another two hours but I was reasonably sure I was clean. As a final cleansing, I administered an enema to myself. Then I started to dress in my gear. I pulled on a sheath brief. The rubber cuddled my cock and balls in warm rubber. I pulled on two full hoods next. They both had long latex skirts that draped over my shoulder. The first hood had mouth, eye, and nose openings. The second hood had only a small hole at the mouth along with eye and nose openings. I put a gag with tube in my mouth before adding the second hood. I pulled on a turtleneck latex shirt to assure the hoods and shirt formed a nice seal.

Next came my first catsuit. This catsuit with attached feet and gloves was front zip and had an attached open hood. I closed the zipper and used duct tape to cover the zipper. I pulled on the next catsuit with it shoulder entry, attached gloves and feet. This suit made of molded latex fits my body so snuggly. Again I taped the zipper runs and this time I taped the high neck to the hoods. I pulled on a pair of the most wonderfully soft gauntlets. These gauntlets are supple medium thick latex and very comfortable. Most importantly, my fingers don't get numb inside the fingers and I can easily type at my computer. I pull on my third catsuit, the back zip suit and finally a fourth catsuit, similar to the third one except it is shoulder entry. The zipper runs of this suit have two rings attached to the pulls. I pull on one final hood. This hood is thick latex and very tight. I feel it pressing my face in its wondrous grip. Its eye openings are a series of small pinholes that restrict my vision by about 70 percent. I ran a thick rubber tie strap through the loops in the zipper and locked the closed hooks together. I was locked in until the key arrived or I cut myself out of the strap. I settled in for days of forced latex bondage. I chatted on line. I enjoyed a couple of cyber sessions. I took rest breaks, of sorts…closing myself into a sleep sack for a few hours at a time. I didn't doze until long into the second day, my high state of arousal was so constant. Even then I didn't really sleep. I found my body tingling from the constant caress of tight rubber. I began to imagine finding suitable partners to force the more permanent desire of rubber I dreamed. I came and rested and came over the three-day period more times than I can remember. I drank plenty of fluids and peed into the rubbery protection. Peeing was an erotic event in itself as the hot liquid slowly migrated from the source over the body, the fluid warmth slowly spreading a sensual glow over me.

When the keys arrived, I was exhausted and totally ready to climb out of the rubber and shower three days of sweat, spunk and piss from my body, yet the missing piece was embodied in the two questions, What if I was not in control? What if I had to remain in rubber for extended periods because someone had permanently rubberized me as much as physically possible? I wondered at this final step more times than once. I often thought of the idea of total surrender to the whims of some rubber dominant and being rubberized and bound in multi-layers, used and teased and left to sweat in the sealed protective cocoon for periods beyond my control. The idea of plumbing inserted into me to carry away bodily waste, tubing controlling my nourishment and fluid intake, valves and masks restricting my breathing tantalized my imagination and conjured visions of total submission to rubber bondage and exquisite rubber torture of a more permanent nature. How many of us have these fantasies? How many of us want to find out if it is possible to endure a life of 24/7 in rubber?

How far I have come from that little three-year old with a peculiar enjoyment in a pink rubber raincoat to the compelling allure of latex. I stand before my judges, stripped of any veneer and exposed for what I am, a completely and totally dedicated rubberist.

Chapter 2: Judgement

"That's a nice tale candidate," offered the Chief Justice.

The five judges sat in regal elegance. Their attire flowing red latex robes, their hoods tight red latex that covered them in shiny smoothness. Their hands sheathed in red latex poked from beneath the sleeves of the robes. I didn't know what was under the robes, though I was certain it was some tight latex garment.

The chief justice asked, "You expect us to believe that you were attracted to rubber since the age of three?"

"Yes, your honor."

I was standing in the docket, dressed head to toe in the tight black latex uniform that I was placed in when arriving at this place. The thick shaft in my butt no longer ached, as I grew accustomed to its dull presence. My sheathed cock was behind the rubber skin of the suit. My hands were cuffed together and stretched above me, held by a chain suspended from the ceiling. My feet spread wide and locked into floor stirrups. Clamps bit into the latex at my nipples, presenting a continuous torture that kept me alert. My arms and legs would start aching soon if this interview went on any length of time.

"I find that difficult. No one has come before us with such a statement."

"There is always a first time, your honor. It is true that I was fond of rubber things at three."

"Elaborate."

"My sister had a pink raincoat. It was one of those rubberized cotton raincoats. We are talking 1955, when they were still made out of rubber. It had a floppy hat too. I loved to put it on and buckle the brass hook buckles. My dad took a picture or two of me wearing it. I remember seeing the look in my eyes in those pictures. It's hard to believe that my family didn't see what the rubber did to me, even then.

"Then you had the hip boots?"

"Yes, they were left in the basement of the house we moved to in 1956. They were only the standard hip boots that had cuff about thirty-six inches long, but for a little boy, those cuffs went all the way up the leg and even folded over some at the top. I used to watch Mickey Mouse Club and wear them. I would play action hero in them, clumping around the house. I would wear them over shoes to make the fit tighter in the feet. When I was five, my shoes got too big to slip into the boot easily. I pushed them on in anyway and got them stuck. I remember the panic at the thought of being trapped in the boots, though of course my dad was able to pull them off when he got home."

"And wading, when did you first start into wading?"

"About the same time. We had a stream and a little pond near our house. I would put on the boots and splash in the stream and wade out into the pond. When it rained, I thought nothing of putting on the boots and that pink raincoat and going out in the squall. It was incredible to feel the heavy rain drumming against the rubber and seeing the water roll off the rubber skin. I knew that was protection that I could appreciate. If I had gloves or something for the face, I would have surely put those on too. Then there were the little erections that the cuffs of the boots caused. I marveled at the mystery of my little cock going stiff and hard and didn't quite know what to think of it, but it did feel nice. Then I always had to pee after I wore the rubber things."

"I see. And you had your first rubber-induced sexual stimulation when you were fifteen?"

"Yes, your honor. The chest waders were the first time I came in rubber."

"Please describe the time."

"It was hot. Summer in Kentucky is hot and humid. The waders were black. They had been in the attic and were hot too. I remember stripping to my briefs…"

"Cotton or latex?"

"The briefs? Cotton. I took a pullover rain parka. It was military issue and had a hood and a drawstring collar with one of those protective glued flaps to protect from water getting in. Then I got the yellow rubber kitchen gloves.

"I went to my room and pulled the waders on. As each leg pushed into the rubberized cotton legs, I felt the heat from the material envelope me. I pulled the things slowly up and soon saw my lower body covered in the slick black rubber. I pulled the drawstring of the top tightly to my body and moved my hands lightly over the outer skin. I was tingling and my stomach had that funny feeling from lust.

"I pulled the parka over my head. I drew the strings tight to my chin, pulled the waistband strings tight and pulled the hood strings tightly about my head. I used tape to seal the sleeves and pulled on the yellow gloves.

"I lay on my bed and waited to see what would happen. I felt myself surging inside. Sweat was trickling down my sides and legs. I could feel it as it tickled me. I felt the heat of the heavy rubber. I felt my surging cock inside the brief. It rubbed against the cotton fabric and the material raked it. It wasn't long before the cock suddenly erupted in spurts of living seed. It filled the inside of the brief and the hot fluid spilled on me.

"I was taught it was sin to have such an experience and I jumped from my bed in shock. I stripped from the clothes and felt my sweating body tremble in fear from damnation. I rushed to put the offending things away and showered."

I ended my tale of first rubber sex.

"Yet you couldn't stay away from rubber? You freely wrote that soon after you were again putting on the very things you had found offensive?"

"Yes, your honor."

"Tell us when you rubberized again and what happened."

"I was again in the same rubber clothes four days later. That time I could not achieve a spontaneous explosion. I lay in the bed and waited for several minutes but was confronted with only frustrated tension. I finally began to rub the wader lightly against my cock and quickly exploded. Again, I stripped quickly after relief. I still felt a guilt but I also realized that I couldn't live without enjoying the feelings evoked by the rubber."

"I see. What other things did you do in rubber?"

"I would go outside in heavy rain, all covered in the gear and take walks or do exercise, using the excuse that I was doing something good for the body. I sometimes would do pushups and other leg exercises while wearing the stuff. I remember taking trashcans out in heavy rain, all rubberized. As waders wore out, I would cut them in strips and wrap my cock in the rubber. I always bought a new pair to replace the old ones."

"I bought my first wetsuit when I was nineteen. I soon discovered how wonderful the tight feel of the wetsuit against my body was. These were the wetsuits back in the days when they were made from black neoprene rubber, not the colorful nylon ones these days. I loved the 'reversible' rain suits. I would put one on with the rubber to my skin then put on the wetsuit. Waders and a parka went on over the wetsuit. I was always assured a very cozy and tight rubber experience. Gloves were always part of my game. Kitchen gloves went on first and were taped to the inner rain suit. Then a heavy gauntlet of some sort would go on for the outer layer."

"It sounds like you had quite a system developed to achieve your rubber fantasies."

"Yes, your honor. I only missed having a partner to share them with. Actually, at that time I didn't know that there were others that shared the same passion I had for rubber. I felt alone in that regard."

"Tell us about the 'seal-dri' waders."

"These were wonderful molded latex stocking-foot chest waders. They were all latex with no other materials. They really made the first layers on my lower body exquisite. I discovered these waders, totally by accident, in 1981. I put them on along with a reversed rain jacket under my wetsuit. Another rain parka and boot-foot chest waders still went on top. I think my fascination with layers of rubber and total enclosure go back a very long way.

"I would wear the gear for hours at a time. I found myself exploding into the waders; then I would force myself to make it through that immediate aftermath of desire to strip from the gear. I often tried to sleep in the gear and never succeeded in making it. I would slowly relax and take comfort in the rubber embracing me. Then I would doze lightly before the surge in my loins again signaled a need for relief. Sometimes I would make it past that second ejaculation and sleep lightly for an hour before the surge returned. I always stripped out of the gear after the third time. Even then, I dreamed of what it might be like to be forced to remain in rubber for longer periods."

"How many wetsuits, waders and the like have you owned over the years?"

"That's a tough one. I owned at least five different wetsuits. I had one dry suit made from closed-cell neoprene. I owned, probably, ten or more boot-foot chest waders and at least four pair of the stocking-foot ones. Rain suits are too numerous to remember. They always wore out. For that matter, the wetsuits usually wore out too. I remember pants always tore at the seam along the front. I would put laces in them for a while, but that tear always signaled time to buy a new suit."

"And when did you first discover latex fetish clothes?"

"In 1982, I saw a catalog of things and bought it. I used to look at the pictures in the catalog when I was dressed in the layers of waders, rain gear, and wetsuit. I thought about ordering some but the delivery time seemed way too long so I didn't. Still, those pictures of women and men in the tight rubber really stirred my interest.

"In 1989, I bought my first latex fetish clothing."

"And how much clothing have you bought before coming to us?"

"I have bought five catsuits, a wader suit, sleep sacks, numerous hoods, numerous briefs and gloves. I owned three or four tee shirts over the years, several wrestling type body suits and a couple of leggings with attached feet and cock and ball sheath. Of course these were bought over many years and many of the items are long since worn out."

"And your typical rubber session is the one described in your essay?"

"Yes, your honor. Every chance I have to dress out in my layers, I take it. Other times I would wear some clothes under my regular clothes. Once or twice I wore leggings and tee shirt to work. When I used to deliver pizzas at night, I would put on leggings and the tee shirt. It was amazing how those kept me warm on cold nights. Sometimes I wore briefs to work and always enjoyed the feel of the rubber cupping me. There were times when I would be alone in my cubical and just have to take care of business. This was always true when I happened to bring up a file on the computer of a latex related story. Some of my best writing came during times when I was wearing a brief. I often tried to write when in total enclosure, but the distraction has always been too great. Total enclosure is strictly for carnal pleasure and exquisite rubberized torture. More and more the thought of being subjected to endless rubber endurance, totally out of my control, is my fantasy. Now that I’m here, I wish for nothing other than to explore my deepest rubber fantasies."

"I see. We will now deliberate your case."

The judges stood and filed from the chamber. I continued to hang at the docket. I was where I had fantasized. I was completely under the spell of latex bondage and humiliation. I was a rubber slave who could only wait for release from the current torture and anticipate yet another to replace it…

Sexual stimulation had been a constant since I had come to this place and carnal release was exquisitely timed for maximum impact. The times I have come since arriving here were so explosive that I am now willingly accepting the periods of sexual denial and building frustration in between since the ecstasy of reward rise to levels beyond any I have ever dreamed.

Even routine matters like eating and defecating are sensually arousing. Feeding is through the tubing that passes through the penis-shaped gag in my mouth. They even show pictures of people in oral sexual encounters as the stuff spurts periodically into the mouth. The stimulation at the crotch assures arousal without final relief, though with one final surge of nourishment, the stimulation rises to a peak and I shoot my load into the sheath and the spreading flush of orgasm rushes from my loins.

Then they open the plug to the back and fill my insides with the warm fluid. The stuff rushing out is such glorious relief as my waste empties into a drain. The cock stands stiff during these relief periods but only pee is allowed to flow, taking my thoughts affectionately back to my childhood times in rubber.

There are the hours in rubberized isolation. I am wrapped in layers, gas mask with covered eye ports making my world sightless and bound in a tight rubber sack suspended in air. Only the tight latex touching every inch of my body, the tight seal of the mask, the loud whoosh of my breath and the thick scent of hot rubber keep me company in these sessions. These rest periods are sensual release from the hours of exquisite rubber torture. The torture is more of the mind than physical. It consists of heavy work in total enclosure while enduring the continuous arousal of latex and electrical shocks to the crotch and nipples. Sometimes the hollow plug inside the butt swells as it inflated making its presence most noticeable. Any surge in feeling or muscle contractions signaling an oncoming orgasm is crushed with a sharp sting to the groin and chest during these training sessions.

Sometimes I am hung from a Saint Andrews Cross and teased by unseen rubberized hands. They play at my crotch, tug at the plug in my back, releasing it to snap painfully back into me. They fondle my rigid tool and as I tense they stop, leaving my tantalizingly close to release but denied all the same.

Then there are the times I am locked to the fuck machine and ridden to more orgasms than I have ever imagined possible in such a short time. The thing holds me suspended in heavy rubber straps. My cock is released from behind the zipped panel and locked into a vacuum operated device that closely resembles a Chinese finger puzzle. The tight latex holds me taught and the vacuum sucks and massages my sheathed manhood continuously. Another connection to my butt plug works it in and out with rhythmic pulses, stimulating and tickling my inner reaches. The thing strokes and sucks at me endlessly driving my rubberized cock to erection and orgasm. The thick rubber straps suspending me allow me to tense in erotic passion and go limp as the machine remorselessly arouses me to another release. This mechanical copulation is unrelenting. It seems so emotionless yet my feelings are real and my lust for rubberized ecstasy complete. Four hours in this torture leaves me limp and exhausted but rest seldom comes after the machine.

They take me to the chamber with the vacuum bed where I am locked in and forced to endure more tantalizing torture as rubberized vixens massage every inch of my body except the long spent member. Predictably, I grow aroused even after the machine but they don't allow me the pleasure of coming from human touch. After an hour or two of this pleasure torture, I am locked into the sleep sack to stew in my aroused condition until the cycle starts anew.

I wonder at the repetition of the ritual and how I ever came to this place. I haven't figured out exactly what happened. How did I completely forget the events leading to this place? During one of the rest periods I tried to remember back to before this place… My thoughts were fuzzy but I did recall being in my total enclosure and layered condition. I was in the body bag. The gas mask was clamped on and its intake tube pushed out of the bag. The exhaust tube lay inside the bag, filling it with my moist breath.

I had carefully zipped myself into the bag after first placing a spreader bar at my feet. I had tied my ankles to the "D" rings inside the foot of the bag. My hands were fed through the "D" rings on either side of my waist. As an added restriction, I had slipped my hands through two sets of wiring straps and pulled the things taught. A pair of scissors to cut the straps was in the bag near my right hand.

As the second strap gripped my wrist and I knew I was locked into the sack a ripping orgasm rushed through me. It was the first spontaneous orgasm I had in years. My tense body shook as I pulled against the tie straps. My legs thrashed in the bondage and I pumped my seed into the sheath. My breathing rushed through the mask and the popping valves filled my head with passionate sounds.

The hot flush in release filled me and I began to feel for the scissors. It was completely dark. My hands couldn't reach my head or the zippers and I couldn't find the scissors. In my convulsions they must have shifted from the easy reach of my right hand.

Now my breathing was quickened in panic. The tight bonds could not be broken by my own strength. The straps were designed to withstand many times the pull I could make. In my new panic came arousal. The rapid breathing heralded the rising passion and panic. I was thrashing again in the bag as I shot another load of cum. Sweat and hot breath, tense muscles and the closeness of tight latex wrapped my mind in rubberized fog.

I was still panicky and had to think. How do you think when encased in rubber and after having two massive bouts of erotic passion? I slowly felt for the scissors. They had to be somewhere near my leg. I moved the leg about the bag. I thought I felt the things, now I had to work them to my hands…The rest cycle ended and I was put back into the torture and work cycles. My remembrance of that last solo session had to wait for another rest cycle…

"The judgement is that you are a hopelessly dedicated and unrepentant rubber lover. You have committed your life to devotion in rubber. You shall spend the rest of your time in rubberized lust. The candidate is remanded to his fate." The chief justice gaveled the court closed. I was unshackled from the docket and led away.

Now I am in another rest cycle and I try to remember the before time again… I struggled inside the hot bag to reach the scissors. As I strained at my bonds and rolled on my side to reach the scissors I pulled at the breathing hoses. I still couldn't reach the scissors but my intake air was suddenly hot and moist. The tube must have slipped into the bag. I thought that I was safe since the bag still had that small opening. My struggles continued as sweat poured down into my encasement. I slowly grew tired of the struggles and decided to rest a while before I tried again for the scissors. Surely, I could reach them after I took a brief respite.

I settled down in the bag and left myself drift into dream…

I awoke at this new place immersed in this total rubber world. I had no idea how I came to this place? I didn’t think anyone would have entered the room where I had been and certainly no one from any rubberized society.

Chapter 3: Martha’s Prize

The maid knocked and hearing no reply pushed the door open. The room was dark. When she switched on the lights, she saw the heavy green bag on the bed. She saw it was lumpy and shaped a bit like a person. She stood quietly near the head of the bed and listened. She could hear study whooshing sound as the occupant breathed. She was afraid to shake the bag and wake who was in it. She wondered about the fellow who was in the bag and what type of person would sleep in such a thing.

She noticed the small opening in the zipper and tried to look in but it was too dark to see anything. She left the room and notified her supervisor.

“He sleeps in a rubber bag?” Asked the supervisor.

“Yes, Martha. I saw it. I tried to peek in but it’s very dark.”

Martha took a flashlight from the storeroom shelf and went to the room. She quietly opened the door and went to the bag. She aimed the beam inside and looked. She saw the beam reflecting off of shiny black. As she spread the opening, she noticed the light shine on the snout of a gas mask and the blank blackness of the lenses long since made sightless. She smiled to herself.

“I’ll take care of him, Sanora,” she said.

Martha was so excited. She had always wanted to find someone staying at the hotel that was as dedicated to latex as this fellow seemed to be. She always dreamed of walking in a room to clean and finding a catsuit hanging from the shower. Once she found a latex hood on the floor of a room and she placed it in the center of the bed, as any good housekeeper would. She had left a note on the bed stand but the fellow never called. The next day he was gone and the note was behind the stand. Maybe it had fallen behind it, unseen. She would never know.

This time she had her a real live rubberist and he was hers. She knew she wanted to open the bag but she didn’t want the guy waking either. She had some ether that she used as a solvent. She poured it on a rag soaking the thing thoroughly and pushed it into the bag. She figured in the closed space, the stuff would assure the fellow would continue sleeping while she opened the bag to see exactly what she had.

The slow breathing seemed to grow even deeper as the ether filled the bag. She noticed the zippers were inside. That made sense considering the fellow would have to let himself out eventually. She reached through the opening and pulled the heavy zipper enough the see the hooded and gas masked head. She saw the heavy rubber suit and what was surely more suits under the top one from the collars sticking out. She was sure there must be more hoods too. Heavy gauntleted hands stuck out from the sleeves and the cable ties around the wrists made her realize that this guy had bound himself into an impossible escape, either accidentally or on purpose? She wondered. Then she saw the scissors slipped down in the bag and knew he had planned to let himself out but he had lost them in his blinded condition. He probably exhausted himself struggling to get out and fell asleep after hours. She thrilled at the thought of being so hopelessly bound in so much rubber. Satisfied with her inspection, she pulled the breathing tube of the mask back out and struggled to close the zipper. This time she took some duct tape and covered the entire zipper seam of the bag. She wrapped it around the breathing tube at the point of entry and closed it off. Having left the exhaust tube inside the bag, she watched several minutes to see the bag actually begin to balloon as the exhaust air from his breathing filled the bag.

She was so excited as she dialed the number of the “No Bounds Esoteric Society” and reported her find.

“Send someone right over to pick up a package,” she said into the phone. If I’m right about this guy and his deep love for rubber, I will be admitted into the Society and he will be my slave, she thought to herself.

The Society was a very exclusive organization. There were only three ways to join it, at least by ones own volition. The first was to be filthy rich and buy a membership. If you could afford the full initiation fee, you had your choice of being a slave or a master/mistress. You could join and pay the minimum initiation fee – still far more than an aspiring Mistress working as a hotel housekeeper could afford. The only problem was the minimum initiation fee meant that the new member would be a slave for years before any chance of trying a little domination. The third way was to find someone that could be taken into the Society as a permanent slave. If the victim was submissive enough and dedicated enough to latex and rubber bondage, the bounty for such a find was admission to the Society with full rights and personal responsibility for the training of the new slave.
She thought she had herself a good chance with this fellow.

Following the directions she received over the phone, she left the room locked and placed the key card under the fire extinguisher in the cabinet opposite the door. She was to not contact the Society again to inquire into the status of her apprentice. The Society would contact her with instruction when the time was deemed appropriate. The person on the phone warned her that it might be several weeks before they reach a decision in her case.

Martha was so hot by the end of the day. All she could think of was her future in the lap of latex luxury, courtesy of that hapless fellow who had bound himself inside his bag so permanently. She rationalized that it served him right for such an elementary error in judgment. She rushed home and launched her computer while she got ready for a nice night of chatting. She usually chatted with other girls who were submissive to latex on Yahoo or AOL chat, but tonight she wanted to find some submissive males to practice on. Cyber bondage wasn’t exactly the real ting but it was always good to try out new ideas on someone on the other end of the computer connection. It might not be real…she had no illusion that the people on the other end were usually not dressed the way they said or doing the things she asked, but the reaction to her requests or demands were a pretty good measure of what kinky idea works or what idea is too over-the-top.

The drive home went quickly and Martha was soon laying out her clothes for the evening. Unlike those others, she dressed her part and when she told someone what she was wearing, she meant it. Sometimes, when she was in a more submissive mood (rare indeed) she would just set things out and tell someone on the other end of the connection what she had available to put on and let them dress her. These usually wound up being frustrating sessions as the other person often had little imagination.

She did remember the one time the fellow got her all dressed in several layers. That part was nice but not anything new. Just when she thought he was going to tell her something boring like, “Now you can switch on your vibe,” or maybe, “Pinch your rubberized breasts,” the fellow told her to go outside and walk to the nearest convenience store to buy some smokes and not forget to switch on her vibe before she left. She had made it a dare at that point and told him to order a pizza for delivery before she left for the store and to answer the door, as he was currently dressed. He told her he had to take off two of his hoods to use the phone and they were locked until the hotel staff pushed the envelope key under the door.

Her next idea was pure inspiration. She told him to go to the lobby and get his key any way he could and then order the pizza or she would not go to the store. He had typed in a simple “bbl” and was gone from the chat room. Fifteen minutes later he was back and typed in, “The pizza is on the way and my hoods are back in place. You have twenty minutes to go to the store and be back.”

Martha had replied, “I’ll go after you answer me what happened at the desk?”

He typed in, “I didn’t get to the desk. I chickened out and came back to the room. One couple saw me. They bolted for the other end of the hall. Back in my room, I was able to work the two outer hoods off and called the pizza place. I since put the hoods back on, though they aren’t under the locked cord anymore.”

Martha typed in, “How do I know you ordered the pizza?”

He replied, “How do I know your going to the store?”

Martha typed in, “bbl” and she had left for the store. It was the most exciting experience she ever had in latex.

She remembered that time fondly and wondered if that fellow, sealedinrbrbill, had been for real and quickly decided that he was as long as she believed it.

Martha, nickname LatexM, chatted regularly with rbrbill or sealedinrbrbill. She learned that he was the same person and that as “sealedin” he was usually encased and locked in several layers of rubber. She began to believe he was totally honest about what he wore when he was on line. She enjoyed cyber chat with him, though she seldom played games with him since he was a guy. She did like that time he told her to go to the store, though.

Now Martha bent to the task of converting herself into LatexM. She had built her collection of latex over ten years. The promotion to head of housekeeping at the hotel had made the task a bit easier. Still she had spent several thousand dollars and charged thousands on her collection. She was very dominant tonight after the day’s events. She pulled on the body stocking with vaginal sheath. She pushed the sheath into her slit and felt the cold latex sliding inside. Next she slid the well-lubricated vibrator into the sheath and felt herself spread and fill with the intimate intruder. She pulled on a red catsuit with attached gloves and feet. Next she pulled on a red hood and tucked it under the catsuit collar before finishing closing the zipper.

She pulled on her red latex thigh boots with the wicked heels. Then she put on her flowing black latex gown with the overlapping skirts that parted to show her rubberized sex when she opened her legs. The tight bodice and sleeves contrasted with the flowing skirts that hid her shapely legs. She buckled on the wide belt tightly to her waist, enhancing her perfect curves. Feeling so dominant, she hoped that some nice subs would want to crawl under her skirts and lock themselves to her rubberized love nest through cyber space. She had a pussy mask for the time that she hoped such a fantasy would be real. As she sat at the computer, shiny red rubber encased legs contrasted wonderfully against the black frame of her dress. Her red covered hands contrasted with the black sleeves nicely. She knew she was latex perfection and only wished she had a web-cam for her worshipers to admire the vision she created.

She would just have to describe her appearance to her worshiping masses, as she always did. She wondered if “rbrbill” might be on tonight. She wouldn’t play with him because of that hidden dominant streak he sometimes displayed but it would be fun to chat and see what he was up to.

Martha logged onto her computer ISP and clicked her way to her favorite chat site. She also brought up her Yahoo messenger to see if anyone might be around. She changed her availability for Yahoo to, “Domme in tight latex head to toe.”

The chat was slow. A couple of guys tried to hit on her in private, something she hated. There were only the usual ladies in the room and they seemed quiet or busy. She soon bored of the session. Martha shut down her computer and began to fantasize about her introduction to the Society. In her mind, she saw herself triumphantly entering the main hall and taking her place as one of the chosen latex dommes. She knew that fellow she found in the room and had spirited away was such a perfect candidate for the latex domination of the Society that there was no possible alternative.

In her mind, she had him at her feet. He would be dressed head to toe in shiny black rubber, hands bound to his sides and kneeling at her feet. She would push a toe into the mouth opening, the only opening, in his hood. She would force him to lick her toe then work his tongue slowly up her foot and leg. As long as his tongue continued to satisfy, she would sit back in joyous pleasure. If he hesitated to please her, she would push her toe cruelly into the opening, gagging him and cutting off his air. Sometimes she would push the toe in just to see him squirm.

Finally he would reach the inner shadows of her rubberized thigh and his tongue would flick at the entry to her prize. She would push her gloved hands to his head and drive him into her latex framed flower. Lapping her juices and flicking her swollen clit would drive her to highest ecstasy. His gasps as the seal between his hooded face and her womanhood occasionally broke to allow a breath thrilled her and took her to even greater heights. She would lock her legs around his pleasure-giving head as she shuddered in climax and descended into the deepest recesses of animal obsession. She could feel him tense and groan as his own desire was sated by her passionate response. She could conjure a vision of his spunk shooting into his rubber sheath buried under the layers and was glad to know the stuff was sealed tightly inside his rubber layers.

She imagined toying with keeping her legs locked about his head and forcing him to bring her to another quaking climax before relenting her grip and allowing him life-giving air. He would know what he had to do to obtain his sweet air and swallow her juices and suck her swollen clit as his tongue flicked the button inducing those delicious spasms through her entire body that drove her wild.

In her fantasy, the rubbery slave would be able to hold his own breath and satisfy his mistress completely before she had to release his rubberized head. He would fall back from her gasping for air with his starved lungs and rasping between breaths his undivided love for his mistress and her rubber bondage. She would then help him into a nice sleep sack and lock him inside the latex cocoon for the night.

Chapter 4: Expectations and Tests

“As a rubber slave of the Society, you must not only be devoted to a total life in and for rubber but you must be able to perform all services demanded of your any master or mistress.” The slave trainer slapped his thigh with his crop for emphasis.

I was standing at attention with four other slave candidates. The trainer stood before us as he gave this speech. He was threatening as he towered over us in imposing black latex. The shiny, seamless suit he wore highlighted every physical feature of his sculptured body. The bulge at his crotch indicated that he sheathed manhood was aroused by his duty yet restrained behind the heavy latex skin of his suit. I assumed that his cock, like mine was sheathed then fed into an internal sleeve of latex behind a convenience zipper at the crotch of the suit. The stiff member had no hope of relief without assistance yet it achingly slid inside the sheath that assured continuous arousal.

The mirrored lens of his gas mask hood reminded me of a rubberized version of the guard in Cool Hand Luke. “I’m still shaking it, Boss. I’m a shaking.” Such wandering thoughts probably were detrimental at this point.

“Number 36, wake up.” My shoulders stung as the crop bit hard through three layers of latex.

“Who knows the answer?” The trainer asked again.

“Wow, I missed a question. I’d better concentrate more on the task at hand,” I thought.

“Speak Number, 34.”

“To be ready at all times. To serve as required.”

“Correct. Number 36 you must remember that cardinal rule at all times. You were not mentally ready for the question. Should you fail to be ready in serving a master your punishment would be more than a whack on the shoulders,” the trainer said.

I couldn’t see what I looked like. The stiff collar held my head up and the snout of the gas mask hood cut off my view below my nose. I didn’t dare to swing to look at my mates on either side of me. I assumed that I looked much like the fellow on the dais before us.

He was completed covered from head to toe in shiny latex. His gloves were thick and the suit seemed to be all one piece. There were no visible openings from the front save the convenience zip at the crotch. It wasn’t exactly a zip, though; it was more like a zip-lock bag closer made out of matching black plastic or hard rubber. He turned and paced up and down. As he reached the end of his range and turned to retrace his steps I caught sight of a similar closer running from the middle of his back to the crown of his hood.

“You will learn to service and be served for any master’s or mistress’s pleasure. That means you will learn to enjoy the pleasures of the heavenly love pit of women as well as the thick rigid shaft of men. You will be a rubber toy for their desire only. If they decide to let you enjoy a reward for your service, it is their choice, not yours.

“You will learn to endure the discipline of extreme latex and leather bondage in satisfying the fantasies of your superiors. You will be placed in sensory isolation during times that you are not being used. This will bring new energy and focus to your duties when you are called upon. Once a week, you will be allowed a minimum of one sensory pleasure ride. This will be in addition to any services you might render to Society masters and mistresses. Daily training sessions will be arranged to keep you ‘entertained’.”

“Training will begin immediately.”

With that statement the view through my eye ports went dark. The mask must have some sort of visual display system that controls lighting. I was impressed with the technology despite the trepidation experienced by the sudden loss of vision.

Hands grabbed me and led me to another room where I soon found myself being wrapped into a tight cocoon. It was tight inside the bag but I could tell that it was latex. I could also tell that I was suspended in some way since I swayed a bit when I tried to move in the bag. I felt hands steady my enclosed body and soon I couldn’t sway the bag any. Next I felt a building pressure on my skin as the bag and the suits pressed even harder against me. The pressure was constant and on all sides. I could only assume that the bag was inflatable. But another thing about the bag was I couldn’t feel any difference in the temperature of the rubber enclosing me. It was as if the system was set to keep the rubber at skin temperature regardless of outside temperature. I noticed that I couldn’t hear any outside sounds now and when I tried to emit a grunt, the only sound possible after the gag incorporated in the hood had swollen inside my mouth, it was lost in some sort of reverberation. My breathing sounds were similarly muffled. I could feel my blood rushing through my arteries. In fact I could hear it rushing through them since all other sounds were lost.

Very soon the constant pressure around me became just that, constant and unchanging and therefore, ignored by my mind. I was truly floating inside a dark featureless place with no sensory input whatever.

I have read about sensory deprivation torture. I know it is real and can have dramatic effects on the mind.

I vividly recall the fascination I had with the Hawaii Five Oh episode when McGarrett was tracking down his archrival, Wo Fat, and was placed in a sensory deprivation tank. I loved that episode being an aspiring rubberist and about fourteen at the time. Seeing McGarrett dressed in the rubber wet suit then watching as Wo Fat explained what would happen to him. First they placed little plugs in his nose so his olfactory senses would be blocked. Then they plugged his ears with some sort of resin. They put a covering on his eyes. Wo Fat explained how the breathing mask would be glued to the wetsuit hood. A mouthpiece would assure that the jaws remained in a neutral position. He would be forced to breath air moistened to the same humidity as his mouth and heated to the same temperature as his mouth. The air was filtered many times to remove any possible odors. He would be placed in a neutral buoyancy tank of water heated to skin temperature and just allowed to float there in total isolation from any sensory input. The total absence of any sensory input would quickly turn his mind to mush, according to the show, and he would be willing to do and say anything to restore any senses.

Now subjected to the same treatment, I remember that last thought…willing to do and say anything to restore any senses. Again I ask, “What have I gotten into?”

The darkness was suddenly filled with a picture. I was watching a movie. The picture began to show credits for “Irma Vep”. Now this was a movie that would sure arouse me. The sight of Maggie Cheung in a rubber suit always did that to me. Sound from the movie was fed into my ears. Obviously, the bag and the hood I wore were quite sophisticated. Right now I had sight and sound. I wondered if the other senses could be similarly stimulated. I already knew this system could completely deprive me of all sensory input.

I watched the movie in a way I had never seen. I was actually on the set with the characters. My view was that of the camera. The picture completely filled my visual field and the sound literally filled my head. This new perspective was amazing. I enjoyed the flick and its sexual undertones. Watching Maggie go through her scenes in latex was wonderful. Seeing her sitting for an interview in her latex catsuit and gloves with blue jeans over it was amazing. I never realized how erotic tight blue jeans hiding the lower rubberized form of a sexy woman as she calmly discussed her film roles could be.

I watched as the production of the picture went south and the director had his breakdown. Maggie was sent home and the movie credits rolled before my eyes. My view returned to the uniform darkness and sound again faded. With visions of Maggie in my head, I floated into an endless limbo that my predicament induced.

Time was lost. I awoke to sounds in my ears again. My mouth was full of hot rubber that seemed to extend far down my throat and suddenly my vision was filled with a thick rubberized cock pumping into my open mouth. I was kneeling before the thick tool of this unknown shiny man and forced to accept his sheathed cock, much to my disgust.

The sudden pain of penetration of my sphincter added to my humiliation as I felt unseen hands pull me butt right against another assailant. I identified the noise as animal grunts from the two men that were ravaging me. Despite my revulsion, I was aroused by the rubberized assault on my body.

The into my lower vision I saw a shiny head ease between the shiny thighs of the fellow to my front and the sensation of my own sheathed cock being released from its rubbery prison. Delicate rubberized hands pulled at my tool and slowly wrapped it between shiny fingers. The fingers raked along the length of my shaft, causing shudders of anticipation to rush through me. I felt a soft tongue lap at the head and curl around its base. I was in ecstasy and responded accordingly.

The thrusting cocks in my mouth and ass provided a humiliating balance to the building anticipation in my loins. Despite the male intrusions, I was approaching carnal release when I felt hot cum bursting into my mouth. The cock in my ass shot its load simultaneously to the explosion in my mouth. My own cock deflated as I was forced to swallow the stuff and felt the growing revulsion of my humiliation.

The shouting lust of the two males subsided and a voice broke the carnal sounds, “You will service male slaves for your food until you accept your fate and succumb to the lust we know you desire.”

The vision faded and I was in darkness again. My stomach was full. I wanted to throw up but the gag filling my mouth repressed the urge. I could only suffer in the knowledge that I had serviced some unknown slave and fed off his spunk.

“This one is difficult. He is a rubberist but he has seldom explored his lust with others. Continue to run the male slave programs with his feedings. If he overcomes his dislike of forced male sex, he might be of use.” The master moved to leave the control room. He turned, “Keep me apprised of any developments.”

“Yes, Master,” replied the training slave, bowing.

The master turned at the door, “Next time, run the program that exposes the slave taking his cock is female and include the multiple males forcing themselves on him.”

The beach scene was relaxing. After another length of darkness in which I replayed the previous scene in my mind and questioned its reality, the sudden sight of waves crashing on the shore was restful. I lay in the sun feeling its radiation warm the black rubber of my suit and heating my body.

At first, I was embarrassed by my dress and couldn’t understand why I would go out publicly in my rubber suits. The first people approached me. I tried to get up from the beach and hide but found I couldn’t move. I helplessly watched as they got closer and saw they were also wearing latex. The walked right by me, two lovely women in tight latex catsuits, without even a glance in my direction. My eyes remained locked on their lovely rubberized bodies and when one turned to look me in the eye, felt the rising blood.

She had caught me staring red handed and I couldn’t avert my eyes. She smiled and said something to her partner. Now the other girl turned to me then they both came over to where I lay. I was hot under my hood and my cock wavered between lustful arousal and embarrassed discovery.

“What a nice predicament to be in,” said one of the vixens conversationally.

“Yes, someone must be have been quite naughty to be left staked to the beach in such a fashion,” the woman in red responded.

“Cat got your tongue, slave?” The shiny black-clad vixen asked.

I umphed.

“He’s gagged too. How lovely.”

The red vixen kneeled before me and ran her gloved hand on my cheek. I shivered.

Then the black suited nymph put the pointed toe of her boot right against my crotch. I couldn’t help but stir at the attention.

“He likes it,” she said.

The red vixen began to massage my chest. She pinched my teats hard and I grunted in pain. I squirmed in my bonds as the two women slowly explored my body. The one in black continued to grind her toe into my crotch. The attention seemed to last for several minutes and each minute brought on higher frustration as my aching cock and tensing body begged for relief.

“Bye, sweetie. We aren’t here to pleasure you.” The red girl looked me in the eye and patted my cheek.

They moved off down the beach. My aching cock pressed against the latex suit as I could do nothing but watch them fade into the distance. The quiet beach and crashing waves did little to restore my reverie. My attention was focused on that few inches of hard aching fresh frustrated in desire and demanding attention that was beyond my ability to provide.

Now a gang of rubberized men came along the beach and immediately changed their course to approach me.

“Look what we have here!” exclaimed the leader of the group. “Let’s do it.”

The other four immediately rushed to my arms and legs, untied me and pulled me roughly to my feet. Two of them pushed me to my knees and wedged my shoulders between their thighs. They held my head still and ripped the gag from my face. Before I could protest, the leader opened his suit and shoved his flaccid sheathed cock in my mouth.

“Service me, slut!” He demanded loudly.

The second one reached to my ass and finding it well sealed with a plug cursed. He pulled on the shaft and let it go. The thing raked my inner sanctum and sent a shiver through me. He worked on it continuously.

“Suck me, slut.” The leader slapped my head hard. “Suck me now or you’ll get worse!”

I barely drew on his shaft but it responded quickly to my half-hearted effort. I was surprised as he was quickly pushing deep into my mouth and then going rigid with his lustful release. Even sheathed, I could taste his cum and feel it burst into my throat. I wanted to gag.

He stood aside and said, “Seconds anyone?”

The next fellow stepped to me as the leader took his place at my rear and pushed himself into me. When he finished, he took the place of one of the shoulder sitters and I took the third and the fourth. I assumed that was it. They were finished with me when the leader came back around to my face and pushed his cock in again.

Now I caught sight of the red vixen returning and she rushed to the scene and was kneeling between the legs of the fellow stuffed in my mouth. She opened my crotch zipper and pulled my limp cock out. Her fingers raked it to life then she pulled me into her mouth. God, her mouth was so good. She expertly sucked my member to glorious erection then, even as the males continued to force feed me I felt a surge of lust. Mixed feeling and emotions surged through me as my body surrendered to her attention. I was again on the brink of release as the plug at my rear was pulled with a pop and I felt thrusting hot cock pushing home.

I was being gang raped in mouth and ass by four rubber men while a rubberized woman serviced my need. I was in complete confusion, revulsion and exhaustion. Again I wilted even as the girl wrapped her tongue about my head and gripped my shaft in vice like fingers.

Darkness fell on the scene like a curtain. Now only my aching cock reminded me of the beach rape. My belly was full.

I’ve been in this cycle for eternity. I have no concept of time or space. I live for the darkness since the visions are always variations of the same gang abuse. I actually came once during one of these sessions. To describe every scene would be repetitive and pointless. Finally, I have been left in the thankful darkness that I embrace when compared to the raw animal attacks of the gang.

Chapter 5: Results and Decisions

“The fellow just won’t bend to any activities with the males, no matter how erotic we make them,” reported the head slave trainer. He continued carefully, “We have tried punishment, reward, denial, any number of mental games that normally break them. This fellow just isn’t going to work out as a slave for our membership.”

“Failure is not an option, Number 4.”

I’m sorry,” Number 4 mumbled, head bowed.

“That’s no excuse! Remand yourself to punishment.”

Two other assistant slave trainers took number 4 away. One of them smiled easily under his hood at the good fortune of possible promotion for himself. He had no concern for Number 4’s fate, though he knew it would be long, unpleasant and would mean that Number 4 would never be seen again outside of the virtual bag system into which he was remanded.

“What do we do with the recalcitrant slave trainee?” Asked Master Thomas.

“I don’t want to leave him in sensory deprivation much longer. Let’s put him in one of our hetero program cycles and let him have some pleasure while we decide his final fate,” replied Master Stephen.

“Excellent idea.”

The sound system crackled in my head.

“Slave Trainee 36, you have bested our most elaborate effort to break you. I commend you on your victory but I tremble for your final fate. While we debate your future, you will be allowed some final pleasures as a man.”

This pronouncement bursting into my nothingness chilled me. I wasn’t too happy about those last words, “…final pleasures as a man.” My stomach fluttered as I digested the words and the beach scene played into my view.

“Here we go again,” I thought as I saw the gang coming up the beach. Only this time as they got closer, I could see that they weren’t males this time. Five very lovely and exquisitely suited latex women were bouncing without a care. They saw me and changed direction to approach.

“Oh, look. A poor slave is being punished,” said the apparent leader. She kneeled and looked into my face.

Suddenly they were on me! The leader pulled my gag, opened her crotch zip and pressed her exposed cunt to my mouth. “Lick my slit, slave boy! Make me feel so good!”

I reveled in her juice and felt her convulsive response as I found her clit. My cock surged with long frustrated lust at this turn of events. The little speech prior to this scene quickly faded into oblivion.

A second girl climbed on my chest and opened my crotch. My cock sprang from its prison in animal anticipation. She stroked me twice then pressed her exposed slit onto my shaft. I gloried in her slick heat sliding down my shaft. I thrilled as she took me inside her hot cunt and began to ride me in blissful lust. I was delirious from this sudden turn of events. I sucked and bit the clit in my face. I savored the rubbery aroma of hot pussy. The second girl shuddered in ecstasy and pulled me deep into her love nest. I responded with a gloriously explosive surge that racked my entire body. My licking skipped a beat as I came and the girl at my face pushed right to my hooded face cutting off my air. If anything, my reaction drove me to an even higher plateau of passion. My cock ebbed and surged in another, almost immediate explosion that made the first blast seem like a pale overture to this final release. I was in harmony with my world and the latex sex I was experiencing was just reward to the humiliations of the past several days (months?). The latex lady locked to my head rolled from me as she came multiple times. She was replaced by one of the girl who had been teasing my legs, arms and nipples with her fingers. Another girl locked her mouth on my cock and sucked until it was again rigid. She slid her cunt onto my shaft and rode me for her own pleasure…and mine. My orgasm washed over me this time in a quiet ebb and flow so deliciously sweet compared to the animal rage of the first release. I was exhausted from the attention.

The ladies weren’t satisfied. One strapped a thick hollow dildo over my cock and around my waist. They mounted me or sat on my face. They ravaged me mercilessly. The extreme rapture of the moment aroused me again in even my exhausted state. The ladies could not be sated as they impaled themselves on the thick rubber tool sheathing my cock or thrust hot pussy over my hungry tongue. I reveled in their shiny animal lust and had no thought beyond satisfying my mistresses’ need as I was carried to another heavenly explosion of passion.

The ladies snuggled against me in exhausted slumber as the waves crashed on the shore. After a short rest, their lust returned and I was again ravaged to sate their hungry lust. I lusted in carnal bliss every second of the attention.

After endless hours of rapture, the picture went dark.

I stood before the judges again. This time my attire was different than the basic suit that I had grown accustomed. The preparations for this appearance were complex and the significance eluded me.

I was first removed from the virtual reality bag and suit. My basic suit remained in place as the tubing at my ass was replaced with a much wider and thicker plug. I was stretched painfully as the plug pushed home. Again there were detachable connectors that fit into the plug. My cock sheath was released. Catheter tubes were fit onto the tip and passed along the shaft. A very thick and hard rubber dildo sheath was slipped over my cock. The catheter tube passed through a small slot at the base of the dildo and met with the tube coming from my ass. The two tubes were attached to my left leg and went to my heel.

Now came a very bizarre rubber suit. It’s arms ended in mittens with obscene dildos attached at the palms. The thighs had similar dildos just above the knee. The crotch also had a thick sheath. There was an attached hood with a small ovoid opening that would just allow my eyes, nose and mouth to be seen.

The handlers began to squeeze me into this new suit. I was surprised at the thickness of the latex. The suit fit like a glove and the rubber made movement next to impossible. Reinforcing above the knees assured the two dildos stood rigidly in position. As my arms fed into the sleeves of the suit, I discovered the rigid fingerless mittens had separate finger sleeves that held each finger comfortably bent but unusable. Again the dildos protruding from my palms were rigidly supported by additional reinforcement.

The pulled my mask and gag out and ducked my head into the tight hood. They closed the suit’s back zip. Then they led me to the judgment chamber.

“You have been found unworthy to be a slave in our community. You will be remanded to the lowest, most worthless position in our society. You are hereby condemned to the life of a rubber sex toy. Do you have any final words before sentence in carried out?” Asked the Chief Justice.

I was stunned by the words. I didn’t really know what it meant, but was being a rubber sex toy bad?

“What does a rubber sex toy do?” I asked.

“Those are your final words? You will find out now. Proceed with the sentence.”

As I stood before the tribunal, a court bailiff came into my vision and shoved a long needle into my throat and injected something. Soon my throat was numb.

Flexible tubes were fed through my nose. The tubing must have passed into my larynx.

Next , a long tube was pushed into my mouth and down the throat into my esophagus.

“Swallow,” the bailiff said.

I swallowed and the thing passed my larynx. My gag reaction quelled, the thing was soon fed deeper inside me. The tube ended in a very thick tube gag with what appeared to be pussy lips. Breathing was through the nose tubes. The numbness wore off and I could feel the tubing in my esophagus. They inflated the gag and my mouth was full of rubber. I felt the additional restriction against the sides of my throat as the inflated rubber sealed my throat completely. I saw myself in a mirror. The lips were swollen black rubber and bisected my face. Except for my eyes, my face was now an inviting rubber pussy toy. A thick new hood was pulled over my head. It was well lubricated and the sucking sound as the neck stretched over me made me shiver. Small pinhole eyes allowed me very restricted vision of the scene just in front of me. I looked like some sort of crazed rubber sex doll as I noted the dildos and the pussy lips covering me. No less than five dildos invited use at my palms, knees and of course over my cock. The pussy lips in front and the hollow tube at my ass invited those who wanted such pleasure. The short tubes ends poked from my nose on either side of the lips adorning my face.

I was taken to another room. The tribunal followed. A futuristic chair with straps and bindings stood in a pool of light. Mirrors were again placed so the chair faced them. I was seated in the pool of light and saw myself in the mirror. I was a shiny rubber being with powerful sexual symbols poking from me. The chair tilted slightly downward. The shape of the seat exposed my rear tubing. My wrists were locked in the wide arm cuffs with palms up. Legs were strapped in at feet, shins, and thighs. The dildos poked up in invitation to any who desired. Thick straps about waist, chest, neck and head held me rigidly in place.

“Members of our community. Rejoice in the use of our new toy,” proclaimed the Chief Justice.

Three females and two men approached me. Two of the women mounted my thighs. The third one wedged herself right between the first two and impaled herself on the cock dildo. One male mounted her shoulders and pushed himself into my mouth while the third went to the rear and obviously stuffed himself into the rear tube for his pleasure. I felt the heat of the bodies riding my various parts and my own cock throbbed from the attention. The thick tube covering my shaft kept me from achieving any release from the bizarre session. I tried to thrust inside the shaft but I was too tightly bound. I only succeeded in adding to my futility.

I felt the heat of spunk in the tube down my throat as the first male came and dismounted. Another fellow took his place. The women writhed on my shafts and shuddered in ecstasy.

“The toy has seen enough to know what his fate is. Seal his eyes forever,” announced the Chief Justice solemnly.

My vision went black.

“He is expensive to maintain.”

“Yes, the pleasure he provides is immense, though.”

Thomas and Stephen were discussing the new rubber sex toy.

“And the candidate who recruited this one?” asked Master Stephen.

“Even though he provides a tremendous service to us in worship, she must pay for failing to deliver us a true slave. Send for her.”

“Yes, Master Thomas.”

Chapter 6: Price of Failure

Martha got home from another laborious day at the hotel. Being the head housekeeper sure didn't mean less work. She had checked every room to make sure the maids did it right. Several rooms needed minor touches and she had to take two of the new housekeepers aside and show them the right way to make a bed.

She pulled into the drive. Checking her mailbox, she found a small, inscribed envelope from the No Bounds Esoteric Society. Her heart skipped a beat. She tore it open; ignoring the bills she dropped on the table.

"The No Bounds Esoteric Society invites you to the lodge tomorrow morning. An escort will arrive at 9:00 AM to collect you. Please make appropriate arrangements for a stay of three days while the Society evaluates the merits of your case." Martha breathed heavily as she read the note.

She had to call in sick first thing in the morning. She wondered at what she should pack for three days. She decided that some latex would be appropriate along with some conventional clothes.

But tonight, tonight she was really hot now and wanted to rubberize and surf. She ran to her bathroom and stripped. The hot shower cleansed the dirt from the hotel and she quickly dried off. She powdered herself and slipped the first latex piece on. She shivered as the tip of the vibe nudged her pussy lips open and slid inside. She finished pulling up the body suit. Then she rolled the black latex stockings up her legs. Her skin thrilled as the clingy material covered her limbs. She pulled on the gloves and her boots. The thick latex boots were high on her thighs. The tops bit into her tender flesh and stirred her passion.

She dropped the purple gown over her had and pulled the sleeves over her gloved arms. She zipped the back and posed in front of her mirror.

"God, I'm hot," she said to herself.

She spun and watched the skirts spin away from her legs. She saw the tight boots hugging her shapely limbs.

"There should be a law against a girl looking like this…NOT," she murmured to herself.

She went to the computer and logged it on.

"I feel really bitchy tonight and I'm dressed the way I feel," she typed into the chat window when her nick appeared.

"I want only submissive men or women who will grovel at my feet and worship my perfection from tip to toe."

"May we know how you are dressed tonight?" asked the nick "latexlover."

"I must have proof of your submission before I reveal my appearance for your admiration and worship."

Martha loved this. She figured that the guys were getting all hot and bothered with speculation. She loved to tease them.

"Here's a sample…I'm in purple and black. It's all shiny and tight and my nipples unquestionably announce my heat."

"MMMMMMMM," was the response from "rbbrducky."

"Tell more," came from "ShinyRubber."

"Only to submissives and to no one who orders."

Suddenly Martha was being held in the grip of strong arms. A thick rubber glove covered her mouth and the sweet chloroform odor took her to darkness.

"Bye all. I have a prior engagement," typed in one of the intruders. The computer screen went dark as he shut off the machine.

Martha was groggy from the drug. She slowly came to awareness and she was aware that her body was tightly sheathed in a very restrictive garment. She tried to move her hands and found them bound to the arms of her seat. She couldn't move her fingers. Her legs were locked to whatever the device was that held her. She noticed how full her pussy was. She felt very tight material against her clit. She could feel it but she couldn't move even a fraction to stimulate it. She felt a fullness in her ass that went beyond comfortably arousing. She went to speak and found she could only grunt softly. Her mouth was full and an annoying tickle in her throat indicated that there was tubing passing through her mouth gag.

Her vision was restricted to a tiny scene immediately in front of her face. A shiny black image with obscene sexual parts stared at her. The shiny figure was mounted on a type of throne made of shiny chrome steel and angular tubes. Shiny black covered the padded seat and arm. Thick steel bands held arms at wrist and above the elbow. Bands held legs at ankles mid-calf and above the knee. Straps held waist, chest, neck and head. The staring body was completely immobile, much like she. Thick shafts protruded from the upturned palms of the hands and from just above the knees at mid-thigh. The mouth of this object was covered by swollen rubber pussy lips. The slit was a dark slash between the two swollen lips. The crotch of the suit of this object had identically swollen pussy lips attached where there should be a privacy panel or an opening for access to the natural sex hidden beneath the gaudy replica of the beautiful flower of woman.

Martha was completely repulsed by what she saw. She no more wanted to mount this creature or use it for her pleasure than she would desire a naked man. Yet there was a slow dawning in the back of her head as it cleared. A new thought, a horrible thought began to nudge into the corner of her mind. It was a thought so unbelievable that she, at first, couldn't comprehend. She slowly realized that the object before her was her own reflection and suddenly the terror in the eyes looking back at her confirmed what she already knew.

She had thrilled at the small peril that was attached to the method of admission to the Society. The price for failing in the training of the new slave satisfactorily meant the would-be master/mistress would become a permanent slave to the Society. When she had committed the silly fellow from the hotel room to the Society, she knew there was this minor risk. It had been part of the sexual rush that she had experienced the past several weeks. She had decided the fellow was so far committed to rubberism that the risk was infinitesimally small, but there just the same. The harsh reality that she might have miscalculated her chances was now fully apparent.

"Ah, the new toy is awake. Let it service all who desire," said an unseen voice. Two females in catsuits and three males surrounded her. The rubberized vixens mounted her arms and squirmed onto the dildos protruding from her palms. They fondled her breasts as they wriggled on the shafts buried inside their dripping slits.

She wanted to wrap her arms around their supple shiny bodies and hold their rubberized warmth against her. Their shiny perfection aroused her and she tried to thrust against the shaft in her pussy or the shield at her clit in vain. One male pushed himself into the bloated pussy between her rubbery legs while another pushed into the hollow shaft at her rear. The third somehow dropped over her head and pushed himself into the pussy mouth. This last fellow blocked her view of the hideous orgy of frenzied rubberized animals. The animal clawing of these last three unwanted advances quickly changed her mood. Yet she was still frustrated in her denial.

"I think our new toy has seen enough of what is its future." Again she heard the mechanical voice before a click cut off sound and the eye patches were glued in place, cutting off the view.

Soon she realized that the frustration of near orgasm was all that she could achieve because of the thick latex suit that held her so tightly. The rubbery embrace was so wonderful, so permanent and so unchanging. Her bondage was complete. She soon discovered that feeding and watering regularly would assure a long life in this torture. How long does a living toy last with proper care and maintenance?

05.02.03