I regained awareness slowly. I was lying down on some type of small bed. I couldn't see or hear anything, but my body was still shuddering with the remnants of an orgasm, along with vague, half-remembered fantasies. I was covered entirely in latex, and that was delicious, but it was time to get up.
I reached up with a sweaty hand and grabbed the reversible tab of the zipper, pulled it down. I wiggled myself free from the latex sleepsack, somewhat reluctant to leave the latex cocoon. I slowly sat on my cot, feet touching the cool tiles of the floor. I took off the eyeless hood of my smooth head - not a single hair there - and darkness remained. It was always pitch black. I couldn't remember when I had last seen light.
Yet, despite being naked, not being able to see anything, I stood up with some confidence - I knew the layout of this small room perfectly, vision was not required. My body was still shuddering, and small waves of pleasure rolled over me. I then recalled that it was normal for me to be in a state of constant arousal. It was my life.
What was my life? This was not the first time I had awakened in latex bondage in this room, in darkness. Yes… This had happened many, many times. I could predict what would happen next - I would reach out into the dark and - there - grab an unseen door handle, open it and go through, into another room, slightly bigger and warmer. The door closed behind me with a faint metallic click, and I knew I could not go back to the room with a cot, not for a while.
Even though the new room was in darkness, I was so familiar with the layout it could almost see a ghostly outline of it in my mind, of every object. I headed to a tiny bathroom to one side to relieve myself and take a quick shower. My motions were precise despite the dark, almost automatic. I had done this before… Yes. I was going to prep myself for the next cycle. I was being… Controlled… By someone. Something. I had been deeply conditioned, somehow - perhaps hypnosis? - to perform these actions automatically. Yet I knew I shouldn't fight, not overtly, not yet. I stepped into the shower and turned on the water, started washing myself. I needed to know more. Besides, the actions I was taking - going to the bathroom, cleaning myself - were necessary to my good health.
And while I would go about these tasks, I could think - try to remember - what was happening. Where I was. Who I was? Ooof, that was startling. I had no idea how I had gotten here, or even my name. Somehow that idea increased my arousal… I had to think!
The warm water flowing on my skin was good - not as good as being in latex, but still very erotic somehow. My body seemed primed for arousal, for pleasure. I stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel I just knew was there. I finished drying myself and reached up and pulled out the earplugs I had been wearing. Besides a low hum of ventilation, and the sound of my breathing, my feet shuffling slightly on the ground, there was nothing else - no voices, no car noises, just silence. I reinserted a new set of plugs, muffling those faint sounds. Once again, the silence was as deep as the darkness.
Yes, that was the situation - someone was making me go through repeated sessions of latex bondage and sensory deprivation, and I was trying to remember, figure out what was going on, understand the pattern - there definitely was one. I already knew that there was no way out of these two rooms (I called them the session room and the break room), and that I could only be in one at a time. I also knew that while I was in one, someone, somehow, accessed the other room and left things for me; food for example. And even though eating was something my captor wanted me to do… It seemed silly to starve myself as an act of defiance. I needed to know more before I resisted.
I sat down at a table to take my meal - it had been left there, as many other things, by my mysterious captor. The notion that I had to unseal my mouth if I wanted to eat popped into my head - more of the automation I had been conditioned for, of course. But what was startling is until just now I had forgotten that my mouth was sealed - or that I had a mouth at all! There must have been a reason for it, but what it was, I didn't know. Over my lips was a piece of some adhesive tape, plasticky in texture. It came off easily, and I noted there was a small hole in the middle - an extra breathing passage in case my nose clogged up? It was reassuring to see that efforts had been done for my safety. In fact, I suspected that everything had been orchestrated to enhance my captivity.
I reached into my mouth and pulled out a complex gag. It must have been designed specially for my mouth as there were groves for my teeth, a slot for my tongue where - I knew - I could open or close the breathing passage at will. It also had a long phallic "tail" - I had been deep throating it with apparently no difficulty or even awareness. I wonder if there were other holes in my body that had been plugged, invaded by these large phallic shapes, that I was not aware of? I set the gag down on the left of the table, slick with saliva - it would be picked up by my captor I supposed.
I then grabbed a rather large glass with a straw, and started drinking the nutrition fluid - some thick, slightly slimy substance, with little flavor. I knew it had all the nutriments, fluids and electrolytes I needed. My meal took less than a minute - much more efficient than chewing food… Strange, I had no memory of ever having done so. I wondered idly if the fluid contained narcotics, hormones, mind-control drugs. Maybe they were responsible for my constant arousal? No matter - I had to eat to survive.
I set the glass down, stomach full, and headed to the bathroom again to brush my teeth. I noted the toothpaste was also flavorless, and I rinsed carefully. I returned to the table and reached to the right. Another gag was there, identical to the one I had removed, but clean. I inserted it into my mouth and throat, aligning my teeth and tongue in the various grooves and recesses. Breathing was fine. For a moment, I felt deeply penetrated by the gag and I shuddered. Then my perception shifted, and it became part of my body, a cavity no more but a slim air passage. I took a piece of tape that had been left on the edge of the table, and carefully put it over my lips, aligning the central hole with the breathing hole, smoothing it over.
I wondered how long I would remember I had a mouth…
I blinked and shuddered again. I had to think! I became aware of a deep hum inside the room - the orange tone. I didn't know how a sound could be orange, but it's how I knew it, somehow. It made me remember - yes, this was the depilation tone, I would be doing some hair removal during this break. And there was a significance… Yes, I remembered!
There were some things I was meant to do during every break - eat, clean myself, exercise. Ah yes, it was time to begin exercising. I sat down on a mat beside the table and began doing a series of stretches - it was important that I do so, as I spent most of the day immobile. Where was I - ah yes, the tasks. There were some tasks, such as hair removal, that were not repeated every break. These special "tones" triggered in me the urge to perform these occasional tasks. And what my captor had not realized is that I could use these tones as information to see the greater pattern.
I remembered. I had started counting the orange tones as a way to measure time, and I knew I had been in here for at least 27 orange tones… Probably 2, 3 times that, it was unclear how long it had taken me to come up with that little scheme. But recently it had occurred to me that I didn't know how long an "orange tone interval" was. A day? A week? So I had started counting the intervals between them… And yes, 22! There had been 22 intervals, 22 breaks, since the last orange tone! I felt a moment of triumph, then doubt… If I had counted correctly… But still, it was more data. There was no way the orange tone was daily then. And hair removal wouldn't be daily… What if it was weekly. 7 days… At 22 intervals, that would almost be exactly 3 intervals a day - or if I had miscounted, 21 would fit perfectly. And if each break was roughly an hour, it meant that I spent 21 hours every day in latex, 7 days a week.
Of course… Each break was a meal, 3 breaks a day – why didn’t I think of that? No matter, I now knew… but then what?
I finished my stretching exercises. Each slow motion of my limbs was sensuous - the gentle pain of the various positions blending with my whole-body pleasure. I shuddered again. After some time I got up and headed back to the shower to apply a hair removal cream over my body. Normally I would do a bit of cardio, but this was skipped on orange tone breaks. I kept trying to think, as I started applying the defoliating agent on my entire body, closing my eyes tightly.
If each orange tone happened once a week, I would have been here for at least 27 weeks, or half a year… Maybe a lot longer than this, possibly a few years. What was I doing? There was something about the 21/7 notion… Yes, that sparked a memory! I knew that wearing latex 24 hours a day, 7 days a week was impossible, the skin needed breaks; but I always had wondered what the limits were… I liked pushing the envelope. And clearly, 21/7 was doable, or at least for me it was. 7 hours in the session room, in latex, one hour here, in the break room, naked.
I felt a moment of elation, and shuddered deeply. I knew why I was here now. I had done it! I had proven it was possible! I could return to my old life…
… What was my old life? Was there even something to return to? I didn't know. I couldn't remember my name - my face, my voice. Had I even been able to speak, or see? I turned on the shower to wash off the gel and the offending hair. As the hot water rinsed me off, I wondered: Who was I?
Who am I? I am a blank and obedient rubber doll. I am doll 04. I am not a person; I am an object. I exist to serve. Service is bliss. Arousal is service. Being aroused is bliss. I feel rubber all the time. Rubber brings me joy. Latex is so arousing. Frozen. Always immobile. Latex is bliss. I am better as a permanently aroused rubber-doll. I have always been Doll 04. Old memories are just a glitch in my programming. Doll 04 is perfect. Doll 04 is all I am, and all I ever was or will be. I know nothing else. A slave to rubber, deep into trance.
I shuddered violently and came. Where did that come from?!? My orgasm was a long one as I realized my nature, my fate, and embraced it completely. Why shouldn't I always be in latex and bondage? Why shouldn't I be in a state of near permanent orgasm? I was a rubber doll, it was what I was made for.
I turned off the water and started drying myself. As I was nearly done, the tone of the hum shifted - pink. I simply knew that the break was over. The door was now unlocked and I stepped through to the session room again. Once more, a faint metallic click told me it had locked behind me.
I felt a deep contentment, joy even. For whatever reason, my life was one of almost continual pleasure. I was so lucky, all I had to do was to come. I reached down onto the cot.
The sleepsack and hood were gone - replaced with another hood, latex stockings, long thigh high boots with ballet heels. Latex opera gloves. A latex rain jacket, knee-length. Somehow, I knew that it was smokey and transparent, even though I couldn't see it, or remember where it came from. I remembered now that the outfits kept changing - sleepsack, catsuits, hobble skirts, sometimes heels, sometimes corsets. Always entirely covered in latex, always comfortable, always something I could put on and remove by myself. I imagined that the changing outfits helped prevent chafing or sores at specific points, by ensuring that "tight spots" would be different. Again, whoever was doing this had put a lot of effort into ensuring the long-term nature of the situation.
I began dressing - slowly, erotically. There were no struggles - the fit was perfect, the items well lubed, and I knew exactly what to do. I started with the eyeless hood, covering my face in a thin layer of slick latex, turning me into the faceless doll I knew I really was. I didn’t need a face to feel pleasure forever. I encased my arms, my legs, in latex. Wrapped the wonderful thin rubber jacket around me. Each item filled me with joy, with a deep sensual pleasure. Naked breaks were a necessity, but they filled me with doubt, anxiety. Being entirely covered in latex, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, orgasming ceaselessly was my function, my fate, my purpose in life. My fetish had been increased to a very elevated level – latex was literally orgasmic. I was amazed at how everything had been engineered for the sole purpose of maximizing my pleasure. It seemed that removing my memories was part of doing so. After all, they would only distract me from enjoying myself. I zipped up the thigh-high boots and got ready for the next 7 hours.
As I stretched out on the cot, covered head to toe in latex, I wondered about my efforts to remember, to pierce the mystery of my existence, why had they been *allowed* - I assumed I was rebelling, or perhaps it was a natural side effect of being naked but… Perhaps not? The rubber bliss was starting to overtake me, and I knew I only had a few more moments of clear thoughts… The pleasure was mounting, the latex was so sensual! Soon a series of continuous orgasms, not very powerful but very long, would begin, once again. And then I understood. A mindless being couldn't really appreciate pleasure. Whoever was doing this to me didn't want me to be a quivering lump of flesh, they wanted me to be… Something… An awareness… My mental exercises were part of the programing, meant to ensure that just enough of my mind survived to feel the rubber bliss. It just confirmed the intent of whomever was doing this - constant latex, constant pleasure.
What joy, what happiness! I put the headsets back on; and allowed myself to sink deep into bliss.
I am a blank and obedient rubber doll. I am doll 04. I am not a person; I am an object. I exist to serve. Service is bliss. Arousal is service. Being aroused is bliss. I feel rubber all the time. Rubber brings me joy. Latex is so arousing. Frozen. Always immobile. Latex is bliss. I am better as a permanently aroused rubber-doll. I have always been Doll 04. Old memories are just a glitch in my programming. Doll 04 is perfect. Doll 04 is all I am, and all I ever was or will be. I know nothing else. A slave to rubber, deep into trance. I am a blank and obedient rubber doll. I am doll 04. I am not a person; I am an object. I exist to serve. Service is bliss. Arousal is service. Being aroused is bliss. I feel rubber all the time. Rubber brings me joy. Latex is so arousing. Frozen. Always immobile. Latex is bliss. I am better as a permanently aroused rubber-doll. I have always been Doll 04. Old memories are just a glitch in my programming. Doll 04 is perfect. Doll 04 is all I am, and all I ever was or will be. I know nothing else. A slave to rubber, deep into trance. I am a blank and obedient rubber doll. I am doll 04. I am not a person; I am an object. I exist to serve. Service is bliss. Arousal is service. Being aroused is bliss. I feel rubber all the time. Rubber brings me joy. Latex is so arousing. Frozen. Always immobile. Latex is bliss. I am better as a permanently aroused rubber-doll. I have always been Doll 04. Old memories are just a glitch in my programming. Doll 04 is perfect. Doll 04 is all I am, and all I ever was or will be. I know nothing else. A slave to rubber, deep into trance…