© Copyright 2009 - RbrBill - Used by permission
Storycodes: FF/m; latex; bond; breathplay; bagged; isolation; mc; enema; mast; reluct; X
I am told to put down the events and thoughts that brought me to this situation I find myself.
I must provide a little background for future readers to understand how this happened.
I was a new Soviet Man in the mid-1980’s, twenty-four years old and a graduate of the Moscow State University with emphasis in Western culture and economics. I was recruited by the KGB as an analyst. I sat at a desk for six months studying western intelligence report and economic figures. My superiors gave me high praise for my thorough and accurate analysis. I wanted more. I asked for the opportunity to be a field agent, to penetrate the decadent western industrial system and provide analysis of information I provided. The idea of having a field agent who knew what was important seemed like a good one as we often wasted many hours sifting through fluff to find the kernels of truth.
They gave me one year intensive training in field operations and sent me west. I was completely undercover. I had a contrived identity and was not protected by our embassy in West Germany. My cover was a Swedish manager in steel production. I ran with, not the elite of the decedent west but with the people who made things work. I was knowledgeable enough to pass in my cover and the KGB kept me well enough funded to make regular appearances at all of the right places.
I soon became known as someone to listen to as my ideas and observations were quite good. I realized that I could be a very good broker or investment banker as my knowledge of western capitalism seemed to be instinctive. I also realized the futility of our system trying to compete with the west when it came to consumer goods. I made my reports to home. I watched, listened and reported with my own cursory analysis.
I discovered another side of the decadence of the west about this time. I was strolling the red light district of Hamburg one evening and looking at the shop windows when I saw a shiny image waving to me. I stopped at her window and she waved for me to come into her lair. She was naked but not naked. I mean every curve of her body was visible to see yet covered by the tight clothing she wore. She intrigued me.
I went into her studio and found myself surrounded by all range of shiny clothes and items related to a side of sex I didn’t know existed…the erotic art of rubber bondage and its accompanying pleasures. I was hooked that first night. I researched this form of sex and discovered it was quite common in Germany and other Western European countries. I also found that many of the people who played in this game were wealthy, held high government and industrial positions and were always partaking in this pleasure secretly. They seemed to have small private groups and clubs. My mistress played in many of the circles as a professional mistress. As I gained her trust and because of my enthusiastic response to her games, she started to invite me to be her play toy/ornament at these various private affairs.
She often pointed out the prominent “Who’s Who” of German government and industry hidden behind the anonymous hoods. I was often surprised and showed it genuinely when she’d point out a name I recognized.
All was going well. I was able to use my information to help our nation develop its efforts in competing with the West. My information helped throw out the hard-line leadership as the younger Communists realized we had to do something. Gorbachev came to power and began his major moves but it was too late to recover our failing economy. First Eastern Europe fell to the decadence of the west then the Soviet Union was gone. It was stunning to see the rapid collapse. I was unemployed. The new intelligence agency had no use for industrial espionage to undermine the western capitalism, the new Russia embraced it.
I found out that I could earn a fair living through using my knowledge to either blackmail the kinky officials or use my leverage to obtain information I could sell to competitors. Then the late 1990s rolled in and kink became posh. I was almost forty years old and little means to live. My talents were good but somewhat limited. I began to freelance my services to the highest bidder and discovered there was plenty of opportunity for a kinky spy. I maintained my lifestyle and enjoyed the fruits of my labors.
My reputation as a discreet operative who can get the job done spread, I found I had the choice of assignment. I set my fees based on the complexity of the mission. Simple information gathering was $100,000 US. If they wanted muscle the price ranged from $250,000 to $750,000. An assassination ranged from $1 Million to $10 Million depending on the target.
By 2009 I was 49 years old but still at the top of my game or so I thought. I got the call from an intermediary of an intermediary to the client. As the negotiations for the job and the target became apparent I set my price high - $150 Million, half due upon acceptance of the job and the remainder upon delivery.
I researched the target and his security operations. As expected the target’s high profile and importance translated to almost impenetrable security. I was about to give up until I discovered that the Agent in Charge of the personal Security Detail was a rubberist. This fact surprised me; I thought something like that would disqualify the person but apparently the agent was fairly open about the fetish and the new administration seemed more tolerant of kink.
I saw an opportunity to penetrate the security and maybe pull the job off. I accepted the offer but asked for an additional $25 million for operating expenses. Eventually I’d have to build a team but first I had to turn the Agent in Charge of the Detail.
I found myself at her home and using her fetish to create my opportunity to turn her to my team. I guess I am too old because I am now writing this chronicle to provide a log of the experiences that transpired from my failure to complete my job.
Capture and Humiliation
She fakes it! I should have spotted the trick straight away. The American term “Playing Possum” comes to mind as she kicks me in the groin. Talk about seeing stars and dark. Then before I can recover that air tank catches me on the jaw. It leaves a nasty cut and welt. It cracks the jaw too. The lights go out again and the next time I groggily come to me senses, I am floating in the pool with those mitts on and that respirator system providing me my life air. My mark is talking conversationally to me. She very matter-of-factly tells me I am short of air and that I must confess.
I am too professional for that. I refuse and soon found myself gasping the rarified air as the tank runs dry. She tells me she has another partially filled tank. She must want me to know that there is a small reprieve in time before my final demise. Still she doesn’t get it. In stead she settles into her lounge chair and pours wine. She says something about not offering me a drink that is total nonsense and infuriates me for my stupidity even more.
She talks about her experiences feelings only an hour earlier when the tables were on my side. She gives me quick words of truth that I too am feeling inside the trap. She sips her wine and tells me how hot she is and I can’t help it as my mind and body rush to an explosive orgasmic release and as I see the stars, lights and different shades of light shining green, yellow to white then black.
I come to floating again in the pool. I have air again. She tells me something about the new air bottle that I really don’t remember. She disappears. When she comes back she carries bondage chains and cuffs. I find myself quickly locked and chained at my wrists and ankles. She links a short chain through a belt and locks the hands at my waist. I have very little motion. I cannot reach the respirator and with such limited mobility I can do nothing to resist.
She hands me a white board tablet and pen. She asks questions. I cook up a story. It’s pretty wildly farfetched but the old adage about lying – tell a whopper if doing it at all seems to be the best strategy.
She seems shocked and surprised by my tale. I think it is a good sign. She goes back into her house for several minutes. I try to pick the locks but have not even gotten the first cuff loose as the locks were real locks, not standard hand cuff stuff, when she comes back.
She hoists me to my feet and I find myself in her dungeon. She straps me to a rubber table and I am bound by quite a network of heavy rubber straps. I cannot move even a millimeter in the bondage. I can only stew in my juices and enjoy the real humiliation. Previous experiences were always a contrived game. This real experience reaches a totally different level in erotic thought and pleasure. I find my cock is hard as a rock. I want relief that is impossible in the bonds. I try to think myself to release. I retrace the events of the night in an effort to bring on a mental sexual release. I thrust the little amount I can inside the bonds and the frustration only grows. I feel the slippery pre-cum allowing me to slide those few millimeters under the bonds but for naught. I cannot bring on anything but total frustrated denial. I am panting in the hoods from the failed exertions. I don’t know how long I am alone but finally my antagonist returns.
She opens the suit to attach some sort of sheath to me. She closes it up without a word.
“What are you going to do with me?” I ask.
She says nothing, just adds a few more straps securing me; she turns off the lights and leaves. I find it impossible to sleep. Well, that’s not quite right. I finally slip into a light and broken doze under the bonds. Tomorrow may give me my chance to escape or turn the tables again. I need some rest to be ready.
Hours later she comes in again. This time she gives me some sort of tube and water bottle. She leaves again. I am still heavily strapped in bondage. My legs and arms are starting to cramp some. I’m not sure I can move quickly enough to escape even if I get the chance. There is no sense of time. I know it’s the next day but I am completely lost as to time. The bondage is my constant companion. I retrace my mission in an effort to learn from the error. I see no reason for me not to learn from the mistake. As soon as I am free and get this job done, this experience well be valuable for my future jobs.
Some hours later a rubberized apparition appears to me. I must be dreaming but this rubber nurse very efficiently opens my suit and cleans me up some where I’ve soiled the inside. She loosens the bond enough to flip me on my stomach and quickly pulls the straps at my arms and legs tight again. My face is painfully planted into the thick rubber cushion. I turn my head to the undamaged side as best I can as she works efficiently but not so gently to put an enema bulb in my ass. She inflates the thing slightly to secure it and again rolls me on my back. This time I feel the intruder inside me.
Next she holds a length of plastic tubing in front of me. She explains it is a feeding tube that she will insert down my nose into my stomach. I shake my head as best I can under the straps. She tells me that she must tilt my head back and that when I feel the thing at my throat I need to swallow to close off the trachea and allow only one way for the thing to pass. She adds that she will pleasure me if the thing gets into the stomach on the first try. I ask her how she’ll know the thing is in the stomach and not my airway. She says she blows a little puff of air from a bottle into the tube and listens for the air with a stethoscope. She seems to know what she is doing so I trust her with the procedure. I have little choice and cooperation seems to have a reward.
Some uncomfortable minutes later she puffs air through the tube hanging out my nose and listens at my abdomen. She smiles at me and tells me that I’ve been very cooperative. She releases my cock from the suit and slowly milks it with her rubberized fingers. I feel the intense squeeze and strokes bringing on a massive explosion. She slows her ministrations and lightens her touch to keep me panting hard on the edge. Then she fingers her own rubbery crotch and I see her arch in a satisfactory explosion as she rakes the length of my tool hard and tight and I explode. I EXPLODE! The massive cum fills the sheath over my tool and I feel the explosive blast flood from my crotch to engulf me in a bright dynamite explosion that completely blows any regrets or doubts momentarily away. Soon I am back to earth and the tight straps remind me that despite the obvious pleasure potential of this situation, I am a prisoner.
Even though she is done with the professional aspect of her nursing, the nurse decides to play some more. I find her slipping a mask over my face and she uses the breathing tube as a dildo. I smell her hot musk mixed with rubber as she rubs the thing against her rubbery entrance. Her pee gushes into the tube and I drink the stuff. She laughs as she arches her back and explodes. This time I taste her cum mixed with the piss. The experience is not unpleasant and my tool responds to the play. She sees my response through my suit and releases the tool and gives me a good hard wanking. The lubricated inside slips and slides easily as I find myself again reaching ecstasy! The pleasure side takes command of my mind and I explode again! The mixed message of pleasure and humiliation fights for control of my mind. The tight straps still hold me as the nurse closes me up and smiles into the eye ports of the mask.
“You are good. I hope Eva keeps you.”
Now I feel like I’m some sort of object. Those words chill me to the bone as I contemplate the ramifications of those words.
She leaves and I am alone again. Some unknown time passes. The door opens and my tormenter returns. She is dressed to kill. She is stunning in a red thigh boots and gloves, mid-thigh length black dress with corset and hood. She is obviously the Mistress in Charge tonight and I am her victim. Her nurse lackey is in tow. The nurse might have been in command earlier but this new Mistress is obviously in command now.
After a brief show of resistance…me refusing to take a gag in my mouth I find myself completely sealed inside a heavy rubber bondage bag. The efficiency in which the process is completed gives me no chance of escape. I am blind now. The rubber mistresses hoist me from the table to a chair and roll me someplace.
After several minutes of sitting, I find a tight fitting mask pulled over my hooded head. It must be the respirator mask. The mask doesn’t have the mouthpiece. I am breathing through my open nostril. I must be near the pool again.
She calls me by my name. I know I am found out. How long has she known. Now she says something about using a KGB trick and a game. It’s not long before I am lifted and tossed a short distance to land with a splash in the pool. I am floating on the water. I don’t feel the tanks so they are either on the edge of the pool or the women have devised another way for air. I hear a dull splash and suddenly find myself pulled vertically in my bag and under the surface.
The most obvious sense is the pressure of the rubber around me. I am enjoying the tight rubber and the sealed bag though I notice that my cocoon is quickly feeling almost like an invisible shield. The water must be at body temperature. Ahhhh, sensory deprivation. This is definitely an old KGB interrogation method. It usually works best when the subject is heavily drugged during preparation and slowly comes to senses after being placed in the chamber. I have advantage as I am fully aware of the game. Also the fools are using rubber as a medium to deprive me of my senses. Rubber is my favorite sexual fantasy! This should be no problem to resist. I easily think about my plan for escape. The situation brings all of my senses to peak performance. I want to hear the slightest sound in the water. I want to taste something besides rubber. I attune every sense for any palpable changes. I wait for slight current and pressure changes in the pool.
Shortly after the initial submersion I get exactly what I want. I hear a splash and feel a current pushing my cocoon back and forth. Soon the bag seems to loosen at my waist. I wonder what is up when someone presses some sort of device into my palm and straps the thing tight. My fingers can push at the object and I feel a slight depression of a switch. I have no idea what the thing is but I test the switch a couple of times. I feel no response to it and I soon tire of the nothing, though later I discover the thing provides some small but boring entertainment.
Except for that one episode of senses I feel no changes in my surroundings. Soon even the tight bag seems to fall away in the dull sameness. I fantasize about a rubber romping mistress. It’s not hard since I have not only many experiences to draw on but extremely vivid and very recent ones because of the last two days. I find myself visualizing the Nurse and the Agent raping me in rubber. The pissing event is very strong in my mind. I try to conjure the hot acidic bursts in my throat, forcing me to swallow to avoid choking. These images are powerful and I explode in erotic ecstasy. How long can I sustain these images? How long will I remain sealed in this condition?
My floating opens my mind. I see so clearly what must be done. I formulate grand plans to carry out my mission that disappear into the dark corners of thought. I see how easily we can fix the troubles of the world. It is so easy to find that being at peace within will translate to peace without. I find a realization that has eluded me previously. I become aware of my rubber cocoon and the heavy feeling of desire in my crotch and again I turn to fantasy. Again I have my carnal animal release of power that proves I am alive and a man. I wander into reverie inside myself. I see my beating heart, and my respiring lungs. I can see my bodily functions exposed to my eyes. I’m a MRI into my body. I see the blood at the molecular level. I see individual cells pushing through my capillaries. I find solace in knowing the body continues on with life sustaining function. I feel I am safe but lost in direction. I have security but no reason.
My mind wanders off into a fantasy of childhood. I see rainbow lands! A unicorn of purist white with a silver horn gallops over the green hill covered in flowers. A maiden rides the beast and beckons to me. I run to her to find she has angelic features that suddenly turn to frightening demonic shape. The demon mocks me and my weakness. I try to remember my situation, sealed in rubber trying to restore an erotic image to show I am a man worthy of the test. My mind betrays me and I cannot hold any thoughts. Now my reasoning fails me as I find dark remembrances of childhood flooding me. I am in the dark being chased by monsters. I find my bed and hide under the covers. The monsters reach at my legs to pull me from the safety of the bed. I hover under the covers. I look at the gargoyle faces embedded with the red hammer and sickle of the Soviet Union. The empire that gave me life and reason for existence then betrayed me and left me out in the cold.
The faces of ghosts past flood into my mind. I see my enemies coming for me. They are wielding all form of evil looking weapons. I am alone and have to run but I am stuck in the mud. The mud is covering me slowly as I sink into the thick ooze. The enemies stand around the pit and laugh at my plight. I see the faces spinning before me in a whirl. They watch as I sink deeper into the bog. Despite the terror I find the situation strangely erotic and I suddenly have a burst of lust that destroys the nightmare. I am sure that I exploded again but this time I am not so sure. Sure that I am not sure. That is truly a strange experience.
I drift into darkness and uncaring relief. I must sleep. I do not dream that I can tell. My exhaustion takes me completely. This dream will pass when I wake. I wait in the dark, the unchanging cocoon, the silence, the sterile atmosphere. I again try to tune my senses for any changes. It is a good game to stay in touch and retain some semblance of alertness.
BUT THERE ARE NO CHANGES! And this fact takes me off into the fantasy world again. I am being chased by Soviet emblem wearing monsters and my enemies this time. They are real and I find no chance to fight. I am totally outnumbered as I run through the woods. The trees come alive and grab at my clothes. The limbs shred my clothes and I find myself naked as I reach that swamp again. I plunge into the muck and find myself sinking into the bog. How many times has this dream played in my mind? Too many times it seems. The repeating madness throws me into frenzy. I try to swim out of the bog but my arms are trapped. My legs are trapped. I am trapped in the muck and nakedness.
Did I hear something? It seemed so remote. I am almost beneath the surface when I hear it again, “Alexi?”
Then I see my rubber Mistress goddess standing in the circle of monsters. They suddenly fade as I see her in a light of salvation.
“Alexi, only push the button if you hear me.”
She reaches for me and pulls me from the cesspool of my depraved thoughts. She is a shield that the monsters fall away from.
I pay the price of this salvation. My humiliation is complete. I am my Mistresses personal rubber servant and toy. I find solace in knowing I have purpose even at only the most base level. I am her toy and companion. She cares for me and lavishes me with all sorts of rewards. Her friends enjoy my company and I am taken care of. After so many years on the run, perhaps this isn’t such a bad retirement.
The money I received for the failed mission adds to my wealth which I share freely with my Mistress. We are well supplied with all means of rubber fun things. I sit in two rubber layers even now. I wear the rubber suit I came to her house in with that dry suit she bought just for me over everything. She has me locked in the respirator system with tanks as she wants this chronicle written under some remembrance of the events that started this whole tale. My satisfactory conclusion of the diary will be rewarded with an autoerotic experience and release so I can service my Mistress/lover before bedtime.
Life is good.