© Copyright 2009 - RbrBill - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-f; pool; rubber; caught; M/f; bond; breathplay; mast; toys; cons/nc; X
Chapter 1 – Rest and Recreation
I am taking my usual rest period from my job. The stress of protecting the Boss 24/7 requires major opportunities to relax during those off hours. My choice of rest and recuperation - sealing myself into a rubber suit and taking a long swim is esoteric to the extreme. I strap on flippers and tanks; clamp a diving mask on my face and begin sucking in the cool air mix from the tanks. I drop into the water and slowly begin to paddle in the water. I let myself drop under the surface to the bottom and watch the surface distorting the sunlight. The waves and ripples are an ever-changing kaleidoscope of reflections in silver and shadow. It’s an amazing way to strip the stress of the day away and revel in basic animal desire. I push my hand to my rubberized nether region and work my finger against the button of the dildo buried inside my flower. The thing comes to life and I slowly let my body drift into pre-orgasmic revelry.
A step back…I should explain what I am wearing so you gain the understanding of my depth in the fetish of rubber. I plant the vibrating dildo briefs into my pussy first. For good measure the rear has an inflatable plug to fill and stretch my ass. This brief ass plug is not a vibrator. I have a pair of those too but pool time isn’t the time for two vibrators forcing me to multiple orgasms! Pool time is a time for slow building passion and quiet release of built-up tension from the day.
Today was particularly stressful. The Boss went on a short trip to New York and the detail had to watch every street corner and building while the Boss walked among the people and pressed flesh. It was tense and trying work. The suits were hot in the sun. The trip home was a little more relaxing but the tension never really leaves until going off duty.
I pull on the first latex cat-suit and feel the tight rubber against my skin. I slowly pull the thing up and close the zipper. The suit has an attached hood with eye, nose and mouth openings. The feet are sheathed in little gloves so my toes are individually sheathed as are my fingers inside the attached gloves. I pull on the all rubber dry suit next. This special suit is not loose and is stretchy as it is made only of latex with no lining. This allows me to maintain my rubber induced sensuality and I have to admit that I look pretty good in the form fitting black rubber suit.
I take a break for some wine. I ease onto the float tube with a glass and bottle. I enjoy the warm sun heating the black rubber as I sip at the Late Harvest Riesling. It’s a nice contrast…shiny wet black rubber floating over the blue shaded water with a glass of pale golden wine. Sipping the lightly sweet stuff is heavenly. I actually drop into a light doze before I realize. I finish three glasses of the cool spirit and paddle back to the edge of the pool.
I climb off the float and go about finishing my dive preparations. Three glasses of wine leave a slight buzz but in the pool I should be fine. I strap on the weight belt and pull on the tank harnesses. I latch the front buckles and pull the crotch straps tightly between my legs. This tight belting pushes the rubber layers tightly to my crotch and allows me to find the vibrator button.
I pull the face mask over my hooded head and pull the six straps snug completing the waterproof seal with my head. This mask is more like a full-face respirator mask. It has a wide rubber seal that hooks under my chin and wraps around my face. The six heavy rubber straps form an intertwining system that prevents any shifting of the mask. The rubber mouthpiece slips between my teeth and gums securely. It has two heavy rubber hoses that snap into valve connections under the lens to feed the mouthpiece in my mouth. The thing effectively gags me at the same time it provides life-sustaining air. One of these is the inlet from the air regulator; the other hose exhausts my spent breath to the water. The faceplate of the mask is tinted. I see the dim light and reflections and the sun glints on the water are dulled. For added security I pull a custom hood of heavy rubber over my head. In actuality the hood hooks under the chin and I stretch it up over the faceplate and over the back of my head. The hood opening has a reinforced layer of rubber that snaps against the rubber seal of the mask. I then pull the zipper at the back of the hood closed effectively covering the straps of the mask. This leaves a smooth and streamlined surface for swimming. I tuck the lower edges of the hood under the high collar of the dry suit. The dry suit has a hood as well but this hood isn’t custom shaped for the face mask. I pull this in place adding to the security of rubber surrounding my head. All of these layers effectively seal sound out.
I snap the dangling hoses from the regulator into the inlet and outlet ports on the mask. I twist the valve releasing the airflow from the pressurized tank on my back. I breathe in the cool air through the regulator. The air flows easily and I am ready to drop into the water.
The tinted face shield allows me to see the details of the rippling water. It is wonderfully peaceful as I let the weights pull me to the bottom. The surface seems a distant circle of light in the center of my vision while the heavy tinting creates a tunnel effect on the edges. It’s easy to forget about the daily rigors.
It’s easy to drift into a daydream aura as I push my rubbery fingers to the vibe and find the switch through the layers. I find myself carried in erogenous harmony with my hot rubbery cocoon to my first tension release. It is bliss of the highest order as I slowly climb from plateau to plateau of carnal arousal. I am so tuned to my rubbery body that I can pace the orgasm and let it build slowly despite the continuous vibrations inside my hot pussy. I feel the juices sluicing from my flower lubricating the vibe and spreading warm lubrication into the suit. The vibe slides and slips as I move in the water now. I can lie perfectly still and let only the vibrations stimulate or with slight leg motions an entirely different experience of the thing slipping in and out through a small range allowed by the straps and rubber prison that elevates my awareness of my passion, of my insatiable lust for rubber. My breathing slowly quickens as I rise to my first healing orgasm.
I feel the warm glow slowly spreading through me. The center of this pleasure is that shaved blossom of womanhood. I reel in the thoughts of shear joy at being a woman and being able to nurture, savor and prolong the ecstasy/agony of anticipation. I shudder at the thought of being a man and having that urgent and quick explosion followed by the ensuing crash of emotion. I work in a man’s world to be sure but I will never want to trade the flowing emotional surge and ebb and surge that accompany my erotic pleasures in my sealed rubber world. I can float from mountaintop to mountaintop for hours in my rubbery cocoon and find total satisfaction in my private inner sanctum.
My thoughts wander to quiet dreams of pure pleasure as I finally let the surging power flow out from my pussy to wash over my entire body in the first of many planned trips over the cliff into carnal abyss. This passing release is more like a slow stroll down the hill into the depths of lust. Later I will force a more powerful explosion that throws me from the top of the cliff. This one is a slow simmering and bubbling release of magma. It is a Mount Etna release; a release such as an eruption from Mauna Loa – slow and persistent – finding a peaceful equilibrium with my feelings and emotions. Yes, later I will use techniques that will take me to the edge many times, deny and frustrate before finally exploding with a ravaging Mount Saint Helens explosion. That one will be later. For now I peacefully float in equilibrium with the healing water and enjoy my view of the world through the tinted lens.
I check my diver’s watch. I’ve been under the water for twenty minutes now. The tank is good for up to sixty minutes as long as I pace myself. I wonder why I choose to limit my trip into this peaceful world by using air tanks. I could easily set up an air compressor system that would allow me to float indefinitely in this place. Yes, I think a breathing grade air compressor would be a good investment for my adventures. I think about my pool sessions unimpeded by a time restriction. This incredible thought sends that twisting rush of arousal through me and I find myself panting as another approaching surge of lust sneaks up and overpowers me. This one is more explosive and sudden than the first. It is totally out of my control as my erotic thoughts of indefinite confinement in this nether world catapult me up the steep rise and over the edge! I am shocked and pleased at the power of this release. I find the satisfactory afterglow settling over me. I can climb out of this world soon and finish off the wine courtesy of the surprise ecstasy the thought of the air compressor creates. Only a rubberist and breath control fanatic can understand how an air compressor can trigger such carnal passion. I smile inside my sealed world at this random thought that so easily explains my deprivation.
I begin to think of ways to add danger to the use of an air compressor. I can add a tank system in line and have switching systems that limit flows. I can add some sort of re-breathing element and mix stale breath with the fresh air. There are any numbers of ideas that now run through my head and distract me from the essential reason for my session. I read the signs in my head. I am off on a tangent that has taken me away from my original restoring session. I decide that time is up for this one. Two good orgasms is a nice way to remember the session – those and the thought of buying a breathing grade air compressor. I know that cost will not be an issue since the acquisition will be an amazing addition to my games. I have about fifteen minutes of air left in the tank so it is a good time to wrap this up.
I see two feet attached to black legs intrude on my world. I see the distorted upper body of someone sitting on the edge of the pool. Strange that someone is here in my backyard. This intruder is not a good sign, I think.
I start to swim to the surface to check it out when the legs suddenly drop into the water and I find a frogman quickly approaching. I assume a defensive posture as he pulls a knife from his belt. He holds the knife threateningly but doesn’t make any aggressive move. He points to the surface. I weigh my options. I think to use my defensive training to try to overpower this threatening intruder. My mind quickly sets my body into motion and I aggressively swim into the fellow and grab at his knife-wielding wrist. He reverses my thrust and has me in a headlock with the threatening knife arm touching my inlet hose. He motions again to surface and locked in his grip I have no choice but to comply.
At the surface he takes two rubber things from his belt. He slips one over my left hand and pulls wrist straps tight. He repeats the move with my right hand. Then he takes a small inflator bottle and screws the short connector hose into a nipple on the end of the rubber mitt on my right hand. In short order the thing inflates the mitt into a rubber ball about the size of a large cantaloupe. He repeats the process on the left hand mitt.
I am puzzled by this sudden turn of events. I press my useless hands to my face and realize that they effectively prevent me from removing the hoods and masks I have so carefully sealed around my face and head. I cannot grasp the hose connections to unlock them from the mask either. I realize that I am helplessly locked inside a closed breathing system that has maybe ten to fifteen minutes of air remaining.
He leans close to my head and says, “I have a job for you. If you do not agree then you will die.”
I hear the words in a distant echo chamber of rubbery layers. I shake my head emphatically in the negative. I do not know what this fellow wants but based on this initial encounter it must not be good.
He looks at my regulator and swims back to my face, “You have about fifteen minutes to make up your mind.”
He suddenly gropes at my crotch and to my surprise he rubs me hard as he grips at my rubbery globes. In his grip I find erotic pleasure in submission and find the events are a powerful elixir of lust. I shudder in rapture and explode against my will as he literally rapes me with his hands. I feel his rigid member thrust against me as he rubs hard. Then just as suddenly, he swims to my back. He is at my face again.
“That took away about five minutes of your life. You have little time to choose your fate.”
I shake my head again.
“Fine. I’ll be right here if you change your mind.”
The fellow swims to the edge and lifts himself from the pool. I see the glistening water streaming from his tight rubber wetsuit. He pulls off his mask and drops his mouthpiece to his chest. He settles down at the edge of the pool to watch me struggle.
If only I can get these darn mitts off my hands, I think. I push against the dry suit hood in an effort to get it off my head. The slippery mitts and rubber just slide uselessly against each other. The soft air-filled balls find no purchase on anything. I cannot loosen the straps at my wrist. I cannot disconnect the hoses from the mask. I try to hook my arm through the hose and pull it as hard as I can in an effort to tear it loose.
“That hose is reinforced rubber designed to withstand deep water pressure and those connections are designed to withstand high pressure atmosphere and not break seal. It is useless to try to tear the things loose. I have this nice knife I can lend you if you just agree to my job offer.”
I swim to the far edge of the pool and pull myself up by the elbows. I can get completely out of the water but my hand impediments will not allow me to remove the fins on my feet. That handicap bodes ill of any resistance. I push my chin to the concrete edge lip of the pool. Maybe the slight curved lip can catch the bottom of the mask and pull it from my head. I can imagine the pain of the rubber edge raking back on my head but the slippery water-lubricated rubber might just allow the thing to come loose. My thoughts go little further than that. I do not even think of what to do if I get the breathing gear off as I am still locked in the impeding mitts and swim fins. I push hard against the pool and the rubber doesn’t even shift on my face. The straps are too tightly tensioned and the two over-hoods provide the added security so essential to the game but so detrimental to escape.
The fellow’s legs are in my view. He squats in front of me and lifts my head so I peer into his eyes. “About five more minutes, my dear. You’ve used a lot of air in your fruitless attempts to escape.”
He lets my chin go and pushes me back into the water.
“You should enjoy your last minutes.”
He pulls on his gear and jumps into the water.
This time he approaches me from the rear and thrusts his hard tool against my ass. I feel the rigid thing against me as he pulls me in a bear hug. He ruts against me like the animal he is and I feel his quickening rutting as he goes completely rigid in the masculine spasm of his personal pleasure. He drops away from me and pulls me to the surface.
He drops his mouthpiece and says, “Nothing personal. That was just one good fuck for me and now you’re fucked too.” He swims away leaving me in my trap.
I feel the air pressure dropping now. The vibe buzzes away inside me as I fight to find my breath. In one final titanic arousal my body thrusts beyond the limits of sense and sensibility and I am ravaged by a massive orgasm that sucks the very oxygen from my body. I pant hard for air and see lights and flashes, stars and fireworks, bright yellow hues and bright washed out greens before eternal blackness.
Chapter 2 – Final Gasps
He watches as she violently thrashes in her final ecstasy. He almost envies her plight as he imagines her air-starved lungs sucking against the nothingness of the empty tanks while her body betrays its carnal lust in explosive finality. He might have cum then too had he not just spent his load against her rubberized rear cheeks. He waits for movement and sees none.
He drops into the water and swims to her limp black form and pulls her to the edge of the pool. He lifts her from the pool and detaches the hoses to the mask. He rummages in his black canvas dive bag he brought with him and pulls out a small air bottle. He attaches the short hose from the bottle to the inlet port and turns the valve. He lifts her head back as far as possible. He watches as the air forces its way into her lungs. He realizes that he might have to perform full resuscitation so he turns off the valve and presses on her chest. He performs CPR on the lifeless body, five heart presses to each lung inflation.
He begins to worry if he waited too long. Autoerotic asphyxiation can be a delicate balance between life and death. That sudden final explosion of the air-starved body may be too much to overcome as the oxygen rushes into the muscles and away from the brain.
He continues the CPR…five heart presses, one lung inflation, five heart presses, one lung inflation, five heart...
She moves with a jolt and is coughing around her mouthpiece. He leaves the bottle in place and runs to her poolside storage area. He finds what he needs in the dark shadows of the room…a spare air tank. He checks its fill levels and it is full. He carries it back to the pool and unfastens the buckles and straps of the empty tank. He lifts the still groggy woman to remove the old tank and he slips the new tank harness in place. He pulls and tugs at the straps and soon has her ready. He pulls the small bottle from the mask and hooks the hoses of the new tank into the fittings. He checks her breathing and finds it shallow but steady and growing stronger. He feels her strength returning and he pushes her back into the water.
I am returned from the grave. I saw lights and flashes and explosive fireworks. I saw my final nirvana and the deepest deprivation as I exploded in my final ecstasy but here I am. I am breathing the cool compressed air of a tank and am in the pool…still. Is it all a dream? I see the fellow squatting at the edge of the pool. It is not a dream.
“We have unfinished business, my rubberized dear. I have that job for you and you have about an hour now to decide. The next time I will not so compassionate. I leave you to decide. Just let me know your decision.”
He looks at his watch. “I have an appointment but I will be back in about half an hour.”
He wraps a new belt around my waist that has a very heavy weight attached to a short length of chain. “You’ll be here, right?” He laughs as he tosses the heavy weight with all his might into the pool. It pulls me under and as effectively secures me as a cage might.
I am alone in my thoughts. The mitts buoy my arms and they float over my head while the heavy weights hold me under. I am basically floating just under the surface of the pool. I pace my breathing. There is no need to struggle as I see no escape at this point. The fellow must need my skills quite urgently. That is the only reason I seem to still be here in my predicament. Maybe I can use that to my advantage. This thought sustains my calm as I float between the heaven that I desire and the hell in which I find myself.
I think about the fellow. He seems to be trained. Maybe he is some sort of foreign agent. He sure knew how to quickly overpower me, granted I was in a bit of a disadvantage in my rubberized condition. He didn’t look all that bad in his rubber wetsuit either but his Neanderthal antics before I passed out just confirmed my general opinion of the stronger sex. Even in his work, he had no compulsion to refrain from taking full advantage of the novel and sexually charged situation to find time to rape me through my rubber suits then leave me to die. Well, he didn’t let me die so maybe there is some redeeming quality though I believe his need for my services is the only reason I am still locked in this torture and not on my journey to the other side.
There is a silence in my suspended watery trap. I feel the need to concentrate on the predicament. I find this action difficult as wandering reverie occasionally slips from the shadow of my mind into the center of the room. It is getting dark now. I check the watch and see that I am again reaching a time for decision. The fellow will be back soon if he keeps his word. My air is still over half-full as I have conserved my strength and breathing. Maybe I can use this possible miscalculation to my advantage. I think that I can fake that final air-exhausting rapture and when he fishes me from the pool the second time…maybe he will error as he believes I am unconscious.
The pool lights come on. Now the water is bathed in light from the fixtures. I see the white globes as I slowly twist on my tether move in and out of my vision. Those white things provide a new rainbow effect to the water as the light shines through the crystal-clear medium. The globes seem close enough to touch…an illusion of magnification as the weight was tossed far out into the center of the pool. I cannot reach the white light. I cannot reach the edge of the pool. I think to try to swim with the weight but have determined to move as little as possible to conserve air and energy.
I check my watch again. The fellow seems to be overdue. Maybe something happened to him. That would not be good as he is the only person aware of my situation and only he can pull me from the trap. I try meditation concentration to slow my body functions further.
I remember a class I took many years ago and recall the quiet fulfillment possible through the mind. I concentrate on total quiet and solitude. It is not easy under the circumstances. Encasement in my favorite rubber fantasy has its drawbacks under these conditions. I pace my breath. I watch as the light passes across my view. The heavy lens tinting allows me to see the light as a bright but defined globe. I concentrate on the globe and ease into a near-hypnotic state. I feel my breathing and heart rate slowing. I can last in this state for hours I want to believe. I begin to think I can conserve my air long enough to be missed tomorrow. This new thought is completely absurd but it gives me a strange peace in thinking my absence will bring help before my air is gone. The fellow did provide a hint of threat when he suggested that next time he will not save me. Still that seems to be counter to what I’ve seen so far.
I see a splash in the pool that breaks up the smooth light patterns. The ripples spread from the source of the splash. The black rubber man is silhouetted in the back light. Here we go again, I think.
He retrieves the weights and pulls me to the edge of the pool. He pulls the weights out and I float to the surface. He leans near my face.
“It’s decision time, my rubbery friend. I estimate you’re about fifteen minutes from the end of this tank and I didn’t see any more spares in that room of yours.”
He didn’t check the gage. Maybe it’s only a minor error but at least it shows he can err.
“I’m waiting.” He continues to squat.
I shake my head in a “no” again.
“Too bad. Your replacement won’t be nearly as fun to coerce. Your fondness for rubber definitely has an unexpected reward that I am enjoying.” He stands and walks away.
This time I am floating in the pool. I concentrate again on breath control. I time out my situation. I have to fake an autoerotic event and passing out. This is no easy task but I think I can pull it off. I can hold my breath for up to three minutes. My dive training allows that. In a pinch I might hold it longer. This is a pinch so I prepare myself for the big event. Actually it is easy as I begin the hard inflation and release of air to prepare for holding my breath. This can easily be mistaken as the autoerotic orgasm I have to fake. I know he is watching the bubbles so I have do that one last blast as I thrash in the water and take one and hold. Prior to the big blast I have to take shallow breaths that might be taken as the air exhausting. It is a long shot but I have to try.
Time is now. I shallow up my breaths to rapid pants. I do a rapturous shuddering and thrashing and hold! I wait. I wait.
Chapter 3 - Reversal
I wait. I cannot move. I hold still to avoid any ripples that may give away my actual condition. The seconds tick slowly by. Is he going to pull me from the pool? My whole plan relies on him pulling me from the pool. He leaves me and I have to breathe and the bubbles give me away. I hold. I hold. It must be close to two minutes now.
A hand grabs my leg and I am pulled to the edge. The fellow hoists me none too gently out of the water and rolls me on my side. I let out my breath sloooooowly and take a sloooooow breath in. This is the moment of truth that will determine if I get my chance.
“Damn, rubber bitch. She would have been fun to manage too. Well best get these mitts off so the pool incident looks like an accident of perverted lust.”
He fumbles with my hands and gets the mitts off. He is straddling my body as he works.
“I’ll just push her back in the water and the coppers will figure that she lost sense of her air supply and passed out in an autoerotic asphyxiation episode. What a way to go,” he mumbles to himself.
He grabs my arms to flip me back into the pool. It’s now or never. One swift kick to the crotch is all it takes. I swing my right knee/lower leg right into his groin. He collapses like a fallen tree and rolls in agony.
“BITCH! I’ll get you!”
He rolls to his knees to stand and I swing my body at his head. The air tank base cracks his jaw wide open with a sickening thud and he is down for the count. I quickly pull my hoods off and flip the mask off my face. I give his face another good kick for proper measure and pull those mitts onto his hands.
I check the tank and see there is about ten minutes of air left. I conserved well. I strap the face piece over his head. The swelling face is squeezed under the rubber seal. I pull the zipper hood on and strap the tank onto his back. He is coming to now as I finish tightening the straps and I push him over the edge into the water. Now I squat at the edge and ask, “Who are you and what was the job?”
It’s his turn to shake his head, “No.”
“You have ten minutes before the air is gone.” I tell him. “Ten minutes to decide how this ends.”
He is thrashing in the pool.
“You’re wasting air,” I say.
“As you noted, there are no more tanks in the storage shed. I have one in my car, though. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I go to the garage and retrieve the tank. It isn’t a full one as I check the gage. I used it earlier and was just planning on filling it tomorrow with the tank I used today. It has enough air to last about twenty minutes.
I return to the pool to find the fellow is still haplessly thrashing at the edge. He is trying to lever the mitts off.
“That’s a waste of time. You should know that,” I say. I sit back in the lounge chair and pull the wine out of its bucket.
“You don’t mind, do you? It’s poor taste not to offer a guest a drink but I’m sure you understand.”
I sip the golden elixir and relish the moment. I figure the fellow will pass out in a few minutes and I can pull him from the pool, quickly change out the bottle and he can have another twenty minutes.
“You feeling the change in air flow? It’s quite erotic…sealed inside your rubber world, completely dependent on that air bottle that is running dry. You allowed me that experience just an hour ago. It isn’t the same when you’re the one in the suit, is it?”
I find it quite arousing to remember the breathless sucking as the air ran out. My vibe buzzing away inside me as the lack of air took me to the most powerful explosion of ecstasy I’ve ever experienced…ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I’m hot even now just thinking about it. How about you? Are you hot? Be honest. Give me that head shake if you’re hot.”
My victim nods violently in his torture. He suddenly goes rigid then thrashes the water into froth as he helplessly explodes his seed and the last of his oxygen drains from his head. He goes limp. I quickly pull him from the pool and switch out the air tanks. I make sure the new tank is flowing before I work to remove the spent tank and slip the straps of the new bottle over his shoulders. He is slowly recovering as I tighten the straps and push him back into the pool.
“See. There was another bottle but I’m not telling you how much air it has. Needless to say it was used and I had it set aside for refilling. Now how about telling me who you are and what the job is?”
He shakes his head in the affirmative this time.
“Be right back, friend.”
I go into the house to get hand and ankle cuffs. I grab a short length of chain and a locking belt.
I get to the pool and pull the fellow to the edge.
I put the belt around his waist and lock it. I lock his wrists together and loop the chain through the linking chain and around the front of the belt. I lock it in place. I then cuff his ankles together so he seems more like a seal out of water than a person. Only now do I pull off those hideously delicious mitts. Subconsciously I like the things and will keep them.
I hand him a writing board and felt tip pen.
“Write first, getting you off the air comes later.”
The fellow begins to scrawl words on the board. They are almost unreadable. I expected that considering his mental state, his grogginess from my earlier kicks, his air denial and the entire eroticism of the situation. I am shaking all over as I slowly realize the emotional rollercoaster of the past two hours.
I take the board from his lap.
“Tom Jones?” I ask. “You really expect me to believe your name is ‘Tom Jones’?”
“OK, Rubber Tom, who do you work for?”
He holds up the board after some scrawling.
“CIA! You expect me to believe that! I should push you back into the pool right now.
He shakes his head again and repeats his claim.
“Come on, CIA doesn’t let people like you…us…work for them.”
This time he writes the question, “How about your job?”
“Everyone knows my kink. It isn’t something for blackmail when everyone knows. The Boss is very understanding ‘cause I’m good.”
He writes on the tablet and holds it up.
“I know. You passed the test. Now about that job?” I read the words incredulously. “You must be out of air, Tommy.”
He writes more.
I read the words. “I am setting up a special team of highly skilled members with unusual quirks. Europe is our operating area.”
I check his air. The tank is about empty. He is restrained so I shut the valves and pop the hoses from the mask.
“Start writing or I hook the hoses back up. There isn’t enough air to keep a fly alive in that tank, ‘Rubber Boy’.”
“CIA setting up a special unit of sexual deviants to infiltrate the highest levels of the EU and turn known kinky EU officials for information,” I read.
“Continue,” I say as I wave the hose ends menacingly.
“Blackmail doesn’t work as the EU isn’t too adverse to kink. We need to step up the campaign through infiltrating the clubs and getting targets into perceived threatening situations,” I read.
“Use the power of the kink to gain information, turn officials into literal slaves to our needs.”
“This is for real?” I ask skeptically.
“The devil’s truth.” He writes.
“Yes, it surely is the devil behind this. The devil and the good ol’ US of A.” I smile oddly. “The government going into the BDSM business. It’s perfect.”
I look at the rubber boy. Is he schooling me or is this truth? Should I reconnect the hoses to test him again? Then I have another idea.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him.
I go into the house and hit my speed dial. You have lots of contacts in this town when you’re head of the Boss’s security detail.
“Helen? This is Eva. I have an unusual request for you. Can you do a check on a fellow named Tom Jones? He claims to be with the Company. Yeah and he has the same penchant for esoteric kink that I have.”
“Right. Call me back, Okay?”
I walk back out into the dark. Rubber Boy is sitting quietly on the concrete.
The phone rings…
“Yes………He is!.......Well he’s right here at my pool……You don’t say…..How long did he keep it secret……Really……Wow, I have one of the best right here and I beat him……Any ideas on what I do?.........Right. I just thought you might want to come over for the fun…….Oh I can come up with a special something……Okay, hon, come on by later.”
I hang up. CIA, my foot. Tom Jones AKA, Alexi Gustoff, AKA Josef Jackovich was one of the top agents for the former Soviet Union. He went deep underground into the West just before the fall of the Empire. It seems he gained a penchant for the rubber mistresses in Hamburg. His funds cut off he used his contacts to blackmail prominent gentlemen and women with similar tastes. The twenty first century played a cruel turn of fate on him as the kink became more accepted. His blackmailing schemes dried up. He began to freelance his talents to pay for his games. He is a hired gun. This guy is quite the catch and he’s in my backyard.
What to do with him is the question.
I go back out to the yard and find him working at picking the locks of the cuffs.
“Not so fast Rubber Tommy,” I say.
He isn’t loose yet so I easily pull the mitts back on his hands.
I stand him up and march him into the house. I secure him to the bondage table in my basement.
“Those will hold you for a while. I’ll be back soon enough. I have errands to run.”
I head upstairs to remove the hoods and the outer suit. I keep my inner suit on and pull on jeans and a turtle neck. I figure the gloves aren’t that noticeable.
I run the tanks to the dive shop hoping it isn’t too late for refilling. I just make it in time.
“Leave the filled bottles inside your door. I’ll be back in about thirty minutes.”
“Sure, Eva…got a moonlit romp planned?” The dive master grins.
“You know me, Jimmy.”
“Yes, all too well you rubbery vixen.”
“Shhhh. No one is supposed to know.”
“Right. You know the whole of Georgetown knows.”
“Well, I have to keep up appearances.”
On a hunch…”You have compressors?”
“Sure. You want to fill your own tanks?”
“No. I just want something to allow longer time in the pool. It has to be breathing quality but high pressure isn’t important.”
“Yeah, I have one used for shallow dive exploration. It should do the trick for you.”
“Ummmmmmmm……sure I’ll take off $140.”
“I’ll load it in your car.”
“The tanks are ready too.”
“Good. Thanks, Jimmy.”
“Bye Ms. Taylor.”
I drive home with my full air tanks and my new prize. Rubber Tommy will be introduced to that tomorrow. Meantime, I have some maintenance to do on him before I tuck him in for the night.
Chapter 4 – Complexities of Preparations
Maintenance on a rubber sealed man who you want to keep tied down is simple. You open his suit and fit a sheath/tube over his cock to draw off any piss. You put the tube into a drain. You give the guy some water and seal him all back up. If he has to crap, well that’s his problem. It can wait until morning.
I did just this to Rubber Tom without a word.
Not that Tom didn’t try to strike up a conversation; just I was in no mood to hear his tales.
I make sure he is nice a secure and off to bed, locking the door from the outside for good measure.
The next morning Tom is right where I left him. He doesn’t look too happy. I suspect his long time in rubber may be part of it. He’s probably pretty hungry by now too. That has to wait as well. I have no time to feed him now and feeding him is too risky. I hang a water bottle overhead and drop the tube to his mouth.
“That’ll do for now, Tom.”
I leave him again.
I call in sick. After yesterday’s hectic schedule, today is not too busy. The Boss is hanging around DC for a change. That task complete I set about developing my shopping list. I check the Internet for forced feeding equipment, airway maintenance, waste management, and heavy bondage sources.
I contact a nurse friend and explain my needs. Feeding is a matter of pushing a thin and flexible tube through the nose into the stomach. It is nothing much to put one of these in. Waste is best handled using an enema connection and the sheath with drain line for urine. The friend agrees to come over later with the necessary equipment and tools to fix my guest. She explains where I can get liquid nutritional supplements for feeding.
I check on “Tom” before taking on the shopping list. I hit the Georgetown and Dream Dresser. They have a very nice rubber bondage sack with all sorts of fun looking straps and things like reinforced openings for access to key places. This beauty sets me back $1,100 but Tom will look so nice sealed inside it under the water. I find a very nice heavy bondage hood with only nose openings and an inflatable gag. Based on the feeding plan this hood is perfect.
I call Jim looking for a heavy Avon or Viking Pro dry suit. He steers me to an industrial supplier of commercial and rescue grade dive gear. This town is so great. All of these places are within easy driving distance. The dive suit supplier is in Baltimore. I guess “Tom” has to wait a bit longer than originally planned for his reward.
I call Besse (the nurse) and let her know I might not be home until 8 PM. I tell her to let herself into the house and to not mind the clutter in the basement. I figure she will check on “Tom” and probably have her own fun before I get home. Besse is a bit of a pervert too. I imagine I’ll find her doing some medical treatment or another on “Tom” dressed in her best rubber nursing uniform.
I almost feel sorry for poor “Tom”. Besse can get quite imaginative in her treatment regimen. I won’t be surprised to find him already prepped for our little experiment as well as being thoroughly used and abused before the preparations were completed.
I hit Inner Bay Commercial and Recreational Diving Supply in Baltimore. They have the perfect suit for $2,500. I chat a while with the manager and he offers me the option of a used suit for $750.
“Is it the same suit?” I ask.
“Sure as long as you’re not picky about size. Who is it for?”
“A guy about six feet tall and maybe about 180 pounds.”
“This used one will be a bit tight on him but his height should be fine. As long as a little tight isn’t an issue, it’ll work.”
“Perfect. Tightness is not an issue,” I say handing over my Debit Card.
The manager gives me a knowing wink as he rings the purchase up.
“Do you need any other gear? Masks, respirators, fins, or gloves?”
“I need gloves as long as they attach. I have the rest of the gear I need.”
“Okay, no problem.”
He adds another $75 to the charge and I tap out my PIN number.
“Thanks for the business,” he calls out as I rush toward the door. “Do you have a contact number so I can ad you to our exclusive mailing list?”
I pause. “What is that?”
“I occasionally get special buys on items that have more private uses than the usual dive gear. I have a special client list to provide notices. You’d be surprised at the number of these clients we take care of.”
“I’m sure,” but I pass him my personal card anyway. “It’s all on the card.”
“Thanks again. You won’t be disappointed.”
I drive home on the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. It is crowded this hour of the day and the drive takes two hours. I’m tired but exhilarated as I pull into the drive. I open the garage door and park my BMW.
I retrieve the compressor from the corner and take it out near the pool. I have a long extension cord to power the thing from the outside outlet on the pool maintenance shed. I attach the long hose to the compressor twist-lock connection. I put heavy tape over the extension cord snaking across the concrete to avoid any accidental tripping or pulling it out of the socket. I figure there will be a few half-blind rubberists on the patio, me being one.
I go inside and find Besse blending something in the kitchen. As expected she is a “rubber nurse”.
“What cha fixing?” I ask.
“You don’t want to know,” she replies. “I can’t recommend it for its taste.”
“I see. And our friend will drink it?”
“He doesn’t drink. It is forced directly into his stomach. He won’t taste a thing.”
“Oh. How is our guest?”
“I took care of everything. He is all plumbed and primed. I gave him a nice present for good behavior. I think he likes me,” she smiles.
“I think he likes anything in rubber, Besse, dear. I need to change into something more comfortable. Do me a favor and get the gear out of the boot of my car.”
“You still use some of those Brit terms, even after all of these years.”
“Yeah. My origins slip out occasionally in other ways.”
“I never did understand how the Brits got such a concentration of latex lovers.”
“We are so up tight about most things; it’s only natural for all that pent up energy to burst forth in some way or another; why not through the many variations found in latex clothing? Be back down in a few.”
This evening calls for high fashion. Tomorrow I can dive. I get out of the street clothing gladly. The long day of running around has made me sticky and hot under the course cloth. A quick shower and I’m ready to dress.
I’ve start with the dildo/plug panties. Tonight calls for the vibrators in both locations. This is a rutting night, not a resting night. I pull on a rubber corselet foundation garment over the panties to lock the things tightly to my skin. I fish the wires and control box for the vibes out through the edge of the crotch piece.
I pull on my red latex stockings and gloves. I hook the stocking tops to garters attached to the corselet suit.
I slip a nice full-face hood in red and black over my head. I work on the makeup around the exposed mouth and eyes, turning my skin into complementing fashion statements in harmony with the hood.
I pull on my red spike heel boots. These are just above the knee and have hellacious six inch heels and platform soles. I lace the boots tightly and feel the thick rubber gripping my legs. I pull the buckle straps tightly around the ankles and calves and lock them with tiny silver locks.
I decide that the black mid-thigh dress with high collar and long sleeves is a nice fit for tonight. It hides the controller hanging between my legs but allows easy access. The built-in corset with red piping matches the red stockings, boots and gloves.
I pull the laces together. This chore takes several minutes as I work the things slowly closed. I finally get the two edges of the corset close enough together to slip the buckle hooks into their receptacles. I flip each of the six latches closed and the thing immediately closes another inch. Panting hard, I push the eyelets of the over-flap into the mating rings on the reinforced busk. I slip silver locks that match the boot locks through each ring and snap the locks closed.
I smooth out all wrinkles and survey my form in the mirror. I am perfection in black and red. My narrow wasp-waist accents my blossoming mounds above and my perfectly sized ass below. The shiny rubber is flawless. I hope “Tom” realizes the care I’ve taken in preparing myself for his decent into total deprivation.
Chapter 5 – Stealing the Senses
“It’s time to meet your piper, big boy,” I say as I enter the basement room/dungeon. Besse is behind me. The fellow gapes as he sees me standing before him. He must be in heaven, I think.
I check his various additions. He is still in the same suits as yesterday. I smell obvious fecal material.
“Besse, how will that shit affect the connections you’ve done?”
“I cleaned him up real good where it counts. The stuff will probably settle near his feet based on how you want to go about the training. It should be nothing.”
“Good. Let’s get on with it.”
I pull the new hood over Tom’s face. The heavy rubber clings to his face as I draw the nasal feeding tube through one of the nose openings. I push a shorter breathing tube into the other nostril.
“Open up like a good rubber slut and let me inflate the gag.”
I pinch his nose closed and hold the inflation bulb. Soon he opens and gasps for breath. I punch the bulb rapidly four times and release the nose since the rubber gag is now securely inside his mouth. He tries to bite through the gag but the inflated ball is large enough to keep his teeth separated.
“Nice try. Your resistance will be punished but I do enjoy spirit.”
Besse and I remove the strap at his ankles and mid-calf. I lift his lower legs as much as the thigh strap allows and Besse pulls the bottom of the thick bondage bag on his feet. We tighten the bag straps around his ankle and his lower calves. I loosen the thigh strap and lift his legs at the hips. Besse again pulls the bag over his upper legs, closes the zip to that point and buckles the two wide rubber straps over the thighs.
The bag has internal sleeves but I think releasing his wrists from the belt and letting his arms swing freely for even a second might be too much to allow. We undo the upper body straps after having refastened the legs to the table. In his blinded and bound condition he has little fight as we pull the bag over his upper body and finish zipping it closed to the neck. We buckle the three body straps tightly. I pull the hood over his head and make sure the nose tubing passes through the hood breathing openings.
I roll the wheel chair next to the table and lock the wheels. Besse and I roughly transfer him to the chair and strap his bagged form in the seat. We wheel him out to the pool.
“What on earth are you going to do with him?” asks Besse.
“I’ve heated the pool to 98.6. I think he’ll really enjoy the plunge.”
“Think about it. He is blind. His mouth is filled and he can’t make any sound. His food is tasteless and goes directly to his stomach. His body will be under water after I attach these weights to the rings at the feet of the bag so no sounds unless we splash around in the pool and the water is the same temperature as his skin. He’ll have minimal sensory input once he’s in the water.”
“Wow! I remember that stuff from school. People can get whacked out pretty fast under sensory deprivation.”
“My plan exactly. This guy is some sort of freelance agent who works for the highest bidder. I have no idea who hired him but he tried to turn me. I take protection of Renegade seriously and this guy is a threat. I will use my own methods to neutralize the threat and perhaps get a rubbery prize in return.”
“AWESOME!” Besse provides the best one-word response.
It takes mere minutes to connect the waste line to the waste water system of the pool. The next piece of the plan is a bit more difficult. I punch a small hole at the base of the face shield of one of the full-face respirator masks. I remove the dive mouthpiece and the inlet and outlet valves are exposed. I check the valve seals for positive seal. I push a short length of rubber tubing through the hole and cement it in place. I slide two rubber grommets over the inside and outside of the tube and glue them to the tube and mask’s rubber seal.
I attach the compressor hose to the inlet port and a length of tubing to the exhaust port. I pull the mask on and test the seal. I breathe through my nose and everything seems fine. I put my finger over the little tube and disconnect the inlet hose. I cover the inlet with my gloved hand and suck in. The mask collapses to my face and it presses constantly as I suck in. The seal is good. I exhale and suck in again to recheck the seal. Everything works fine.
I take the length of the feeding tube and push it through the mask opening. A little water lubricates the plastic tube so it slides easily through the stubby tube. I slap a little cement on the connections for good measure.
I pull the mask over “Tom’s” head. I pull the straps tight and put the over hood on. I attach the two hoses to the mask and watch as “Tom” takes a few breaths. Everything is working. I slide the exhaust hose end onto a float. I decide we want to be sure the valves don’t have to be in water.
“It’s time for you to get the message, my friend.” I lean close to our prisoner and am speaking very softly. “I know who you are Josef or is it Alexi. Well no matter.”
Did the body in the bag slump a bit as I revealed my knowledge?
“This is the drill. I am going to find out why you are here. When I do I will make sure that you never threaten anyone again. How it happens is your choice, as you will see. I hope you enjoy this little game we are going to play. It’s an old KGB trick. I think you’ll like it.”
Besse and I ease him off the chair and put his feet over the edge. I grab the shoulders and Besse grabs the feet. We do the old one, two three and throw him in a lofty arch into the pool. The weighted chain limits how far he gets out from the edge.
Besse takes one side of the weights and I take the other. We do the same drill and the weights arc over the rubber bag floating on the surface and hit with a splash about six feet further out in the deep end. The weights pull the bagged prisoner under. He is anchored like a mine to the bottom of the pool.
“I hope you enjoy the game as much as I am,” I open a bottle and pour two glasses of wine.
“Besse, that was hard work for one night.”
I settle into the lounge chair and Besse joins me in a second chair. The wine sits between us in a little bucket of ice. We watch our victim hanging in his rubber prison in the pool.
“I wonder what it’s like.” I ask to no one.
“Being in that,” I reply pointing at our rubberized victim.
“How much time do you have, honey?” asks Besse.
“We have three bottle of this and I can always get more from the house.”
“In the beginning he will feel the pressure of the suit and mask. But at the same temperature the constant press will become sameness in his surroundings. He will begin to relax and his mind, deprived of up to 80 percent of normal sensory input will turn inward. Within an hour he will be in a state of transcendental meditation.
“This state of mind rest will last quite some time. He could remain in a meditative state for more than 36 hours. No one has really tested the theory of the complete breakdown of mental state except in torture situations.
“The KGB used the method on special political prisoners. They used it to break down the spirit and open the mind to suggestion. They frequently spoke soft messages to the victims as they were at the end of the session.
“Not much is actually known about the cases of people who were carried to the end. Most confessed whatever the KGB asked to escape the torture. Most were quickly tried in a mock trial and executed.
“But…the experience can be very relaxing at first. It can be quite pleasurable. Our friend out there will actually be enjoying his situation for quite a while. He may even have sexual satisfaction through a fantasy he builds internally.
“Being a rubber lover will most likely result in many such episodes before his mind begins to fully break down.”
I pour some more wine and get up to grab a new bottle. “He’s having fun?”
“Assuredly. Fact of the matter, I’d love to trade places with him,” Besse gives me a wink.
“I’m sure we have plenty of time for that soon, honey,” I reply. “So you figure he will be cooked thoroughly in three days?”
“Three should do it.”
“And what will we have when he comes out?”
“I really don’t know but he’ll sing like a canary!” She sipped her wine before continuing. “We have to reintroduce him to senses gradually. Whispering suggestion into his ears will most likely give the results we want. I’ll research that more.
“Introduction of just one sense…a voice for instance…will give him a thread to grasp. We need to find a way to get responses.”
“Hmmmmm…can we mike him?” I ask.
“Strap an electric button switch in a hand, maybe?”
“Perfect. We ask him Yes/No questions.”
“We have to move fast while he is still in the initial stage of the experiment,” I say.
I run into the house to retrieve a remote dildo switch. I wrap it in plastic and rubber gaffer tape. The thing isn’t pretty but it should be waterproof. I take the gaffer tape spool with me. I go to the shed and get a tank and mask.
I hand Besse the dildo. “Let me know if it works.”
“Sure,” she replies.
“One nice thing about rubber, water doesn’t mess it up.”
I strap on the tank put open back fins over my heels and drop in the water. I reach our victim and undo the upper straps of the bag and unzip the bag to his waist. I reach for his cuffed hands and pull them out. He struggles feebly against my tugs. I push the switch into the palm of his right hand and use the tape…gobs of tape to make sure it stays in place. Fortunately gaffer tape is waterproof and the adhesive is very strong. I close his hand on the switch and press the fingers to the palm.
Besse gives me a thumbs up.
I close the bag up and tighten all of the straps.
I swim to the edge and climb out of the water.
My dress is shiny with dripping water as I pull off the dive mask and tank.
“I love the wet look!” exclaims Besse and I suddenly find her climbing all over me.
She sucks her mouth to my hood and draws my tongue into her mouth. She ruts roughly against me and I find her groping for relief. I reach for the switch between my legs as she finds her dildo switch and we crash onto the lounge chair in locked fevered sex. Our toy in the pool is forgotten as we ravage each other and reach for the stars of lust.
The pent up desire of all of the work carries the two of us quickly from plateau to plateau of sensual ecstasy and we are both panting in exhaustion from multiple orgasmic episodes.
The dildo sitting on the concrete buzzes occasionally as our friend presses the button in his cocoon. The thing dances on the ground. I laugh at this little distraction. “It’s alive! We’ll have to train him a bit better when it’s time to answer questions.”
Chapter 6 – Well Done
It’s 72 hours since we put Josef into the pool. I have put together a crude communication device. It is simply a set of headphones with straps that will lock them to his ears. The simple rubber pads have a thin layer of latex sealing the earphone from the water. It’s easy to slip the things on his head, tighten down the straps and snake the mike cable to the edge. I sit in my cat-suit and dive gear on the edge. My feet are dangling in the warm water. Besse is dressed as I am and sitting with me. Besse won the coin toss so she has the dildo planted inside her. I have my favorite panty friends inside me. I switch them on and feel the buzzing release inside me. The distraction is immediate but all part of the fun to come.
“Josef,” I speak conversationally. I turn up the volume control slightly. “Josef.”
“Try Alexi,” Besse says.
“Alexi,” again I turn the volume control. “Alexi. If you hear me punch the button twice.”
I turn the volume up a bit. “Alexi, Only push the button if you hear me.”
Besse jumps. “I think he heard that one.”
“Alexi, we are going to ask you some questions. Push the button once for ‘no’ and twice for ‘yes’. Make sure you only push it once for ‘no and twice for ‘yes’. Do you understand?”
“OOOOOOOO. Two quick jolts of fun!”
I smile at Besse.
“Alexi, are you on a job?”
“Ummmmm. Keep up those ‘yes’ answer questions.”
“Hired by a company?”
“Damn, that’s ‘no’.”
“Hired by a group?”
“Oooooooo, keep those ‘yes’s’ coming.”
“No,” says Besse.
“YEEEES, he held those button pushes down a loooong time.”
“Give the button good strong pushes, please.”
“That’s a ‘yessssss’.
“The target is my Boss?”
“Oh my, that was the strongest ‘Yes’ yet.”
“No,” Besse seemed disappointed.
Now Besse is distracting me.
“I don’t get it. Taking Renegade hostage does no good. The government goes on and what point of such an action.”
“You wanted me to do it?”
“You wanted me for … what…?”
“Hey ask a ‘yes/no’.”
“It would not be in Washington?”
“Ooooooo, it’s a ‘yes’ that mean a ‘no’? I’m confused.”
“He means that the taking would be during a trip when the detail is weakened and most vulnerable. An insider could aid in the success.”
“Yeah, he tried to recruit me about a week ago.”
“Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”
“That’s a ‘YES’.”
“I will have my contacts inform appropriate operatives that you changed your mind.”
“He says ‘NO’, I think. He is pushing it many times but with delays…Ooooo.” Besse adds emphasis.
“No? Why ‘no’? You already take money?”
“I’m not turned. Renegade isn’t a hostage. You think they’ll believe you?”
“My contacts will spread some very plausible stories, Alexi. I think you are screwed.” I smile at the choice of words. Besse laughs.
“That’s a very long ‘yes’. He must be contemplating his options which seem to be very few.”
“Yes. I think it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
“Alexi. I have a proposition for you. You’re getting a bit on the old side. You’re not as good as you once were. The fact that you’re in my pool and I’m here at the edge asking you questions proves my point.
“You have three choices, two aren’t so good.
“First of all, you will remain in my custody for the next two weeks. You can stay in the pool or pulled out depending on your answer. Not yet, hear me out first I’ll let you know when to push the button.
“First choice, I can turn you over to the FBI. I have witnesses to your confession and there is no proof the confession is forced. The US judicial system can be very harsh on people who target the President.”
“Second choice, we let you go after two weeks and we’ve spread the story of your defection. I’ll make sure the local Al Qaida operatives know where to find you.
“Third choice, you stay with me as my personal unpaid house boy. You will have certain perks that I’m sure you can figure out since you’re a smart boy. I’ll make sure that your death while resisting arrest is well publicized. You’ll live a life in rubberized bliss.
“Okay. Those are your choices.”
I lean closer to the edge.
“Do we go with choice one?”
“That’s a resounding ‘no’,” Besse says.
“Wow, no again,” Besse is visibly gleeful.
“That leaves choice three?”
YES! YES! YES!”
“You are a smart one. Welcome to my family.”
Two weeks later:
“You have a new romantic friend, Eva?” asks Renegade.
“It shows that much, Mr. President?”
“Yes. I hope it doesn’t affect your duties. I doubt we could find someone to replace you as Agent in Charge of the Detail.”
“Yes, sir. I doubt you could.”