Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Anise's Change of Lifestyle

by Teann Daorsa

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© Copyright 2016-22 - Teann Daorsa - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; F/f+; latex; bond; hood; armbinder; strappado; corset; stockings; tease; chairtie; straps; toys; cons; reluct; X

It should be noted, before we start, that Anise wouldn’t normally be seen dead on this side of town. She had standards. Against the dark alleyways and industrial buildings of the east side, her outfit stuck out like a sore thumb. That was, of course, only part of the reason for her nervousness. Squinting at the discreet business card in her hand, for what must have been the hundredth time, she tried to persuade herself that she must be in the right place. The unit number matched that on the card, but the clue she had been hoping for as to what lay inside was notably absent. The card itself was no help, simply a name and an address. No phone number, no website, no title. Nor was the hand-written message on the back, burned into her brain from reading and re-reading.

“If you’re serious about a change of lifestyle, come see me. Wednesday 3rd, 4pm.”

Anise stared at the door, bleak and unwelcoming as it was. It was already 4.30. Despite her attempts to pinpoint it on the map beforehand, she’d still gotten lost in the maze of poorly signposted streets. But it was unmistakably the address detailed on the card. She steeled herself, and rapped on the door, three solid knocks, echoing in the empty alleyway. The seconds stretched out, until she wasn’t sure how long she’d waited. But a second set of knocks brought no more response than the first. With another look at the staggeringly unhelpful card, she bit her lip and tried the door, fully expecting it to be locked firmly, to send her away, denied. Instead, it opened easily before her, and the dim light beckoned her inside.

The interior of the building was softly lit, and sparsely furnished. A long corridor stretched away from the entryway, with nothing but doors on either side before it turned a corner. By the door, a simple black side-table and coat rack. It suggested an office, but the lighting was more appropriate for a drinking den. Anise’s mind raced, trying to find some identifying feature, some statement of what this place was, what happened here, who inhabited this mysterious building. The click of the door she’d casually let close behind her made her tangibly jump, turning to stare at it.

“For goodness sake girl, get a grip,” she muttered to herself, smoothing down the back of her wool skirt nervously. Fussing with her outfit was a habit Anise had never broken herself of. It was her safety blanket, her grip on the situation. She’d had the good fortune to be born with attractive features and a model’s body, and she used every last bit of them to her advantage. Careful choice of clothes was part of that. If I can look good and project confidence, she thought, there’s nothing I can’t achieve. Normally that was effortless, but here, now, she was second guessing herself, and she didn’t like it. It took all the self-control she could muster to tug down the hem of her immaculately fitted suit jacket, and step boldly along the corridor.

“Hello?” Still tentative, but trying to be bold and assertive. “I’m sorry I’m late…” She trailed off as it seemed silly to talk to thin air. She wasn’t even sure what to say. Because all of the confidence, all of the looks, they hadn’t got her what she wanted. A middling job in a design agency that did nothing but bore her. A succession of boyfriends and a couple of girlfriends, none of whom really fit into her life. Since college she’d been coasting, not sure where to go next, let alone how to get there. “If you’re serious about a change of lifestyle, come see me.” Well, she was serious. Okay, so she didn’t know what she was serious about, but damn it, she wasn’t letting an opportunity slip away. She’d wing it, that was what she was good at, that’s how she’d always succeeded in the past. No-one need ever know that she couldn’t actually remember what this was supposed to be about.

These thoughts she’d had a dozen times, before she’d even set out for her appointment today. Repeated over in her head, until she believed them. “They’re expecting me,” she thought, “I was invited.” Yet here she was, moving down a featureless hall, trying door after door and finding only locked handles and silence. Every failed opening chipping away at her forced confidence. She was late. She was unsure. She didn’t know what they did here. What that woman did, here. A blush at that, rising unbidden as she moved between doorways. The low, sultry voice that had burned its way into her memory, even while the actual words had been surrendered to the fog of cocktails. Anise was here because of her. Because when the unmarked envelope containing just that card had flopped onto her doormat the morning after, the words on the back were in that voice, her voice.

It was lost in those thoughts, that memory of her voice, when the next door unexpectedly opened and Anise almost stumbled through. “Damn it,” she thought, sarcasm echoing in her head, “very smooth.” But the room she’d fallen into was even more dimly lit than the hallway, and it took her eyes some while to adjust. It was small, no more than two or three metres across. A single, high backed chair in the centre, its back to her, obscuring most of the figure sitting in it. Finally though, someone to make a pitch to. As Anise moved into the room, clearing her throat, trying to find those words she’d practised, she found that they all just fell away from her. For the occupant of the chair turned their head towards her, and Anise realised that they were dressed entirely in rubber.

This time Anise did stumble, somehow failing to manage the basic task of putting one foot down in front of the other, her tall heels betraying her despite years of practice walking in them. Hand outstretched to halt her fall, she collided with the wall, only to recoil in shock as she realised that the wall too was made of rubber. Soft, slick and padded, she began to appreciate those little details her mind had initially skipped over. Soft, glossy highlights in the dim light, the shine of the rubber reflecting glints in all directions. And the smell: sharp and unmistakably latex. Anise knew that odour intimately, which only made it more overwhelming to discover it here. All of her guesses about what this place was and none of them even came close.

The moment of surprise and disorientation was taken in silently by the figure in the chair. A female form, Anise now saw, but entirely covered, head to toe, in shiny black latex. The face, featureless and smooth, except for two eye-holes, from which sharp, unblinking eyes watched Anise’s ungraceful approach.

“I…, um,” Anise stammered and struggled to find words, and the girl in the chair cocked her head to one side, staring back, silently. Now Anise could see more of her, and a second rush of realisation came: the girl was bound. Straps, thick and heavy, pinned her arms to the thick, solid wooden arms of the chair. Her legs, coated as they were in the tight rubber of a catsuit, were similarly bound to the chair’s front legs. She had turned her head to watch Anise, but that was the only freedom she enjoyed. Without thinking, Anise blurted, “oh I didn’t realise, let me help you out…” As she approached and reached for the straps, the girl’s manner changed quickly, eyes flashing angrily, shaking her head and emitting a grunt of displeasure. Clearly underneath the form-fitting mask, the girl was gagged and unable to speak, not just unwilling. Anise reeled back in confusion, her initial instincts so thoroughly wrong. Of course the girl didn’t want freed, how could she have been so stupid? Her mouth opened and closed a few times, again searching for words she could not find.

“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?”

A figure, silhouetted in the doorway. Anise pressed herself backwards into the soft padded wall, cowering a little. “I…” The words still wouldn’t come. She was caught. Out of place. Wrong. She closed her mouth, and looked back at the girl in the chair, still staring intently at her, then back to the figure in the doorway. Frozen in indecision and fear.

The voice, she knew, was that of the woman who had invited her. Sarah. It was unmistakable. But as her shape detached itself from the shadows near the door and stepped into one of the pools of light in the room, Anise’s heart nearly leapt out of her breast. She’d met her as a strong, powerful woman, dressed with grace and dignity. Before her, that power was transformed, coalesced and reshaped. Made liquid and poured into the tightest of rubber outfits, then corseted until her curves threatened to explode out of the shiny material. Her ample cleavage displayed, presented even, through a keyhole opening in the bodysuit that wrapped her. Long, shiny boots with wickedly high heels, starting at the floor and not ending until just below her crotch. Anise felt like she had forgotten how to breathe. This woman was a figure from her fantasies, the idol she had never admitted she had, made flesh before her.

It was all too much. Apologies and random words spilling from Anise, she dropped her eyes to the floor and tried to rush past Sarah to the door. But the room was small, Anise was not at her most graceful, and Sarah seemed to fill the whole space. Instead of the exit she craved, she found herself nestled in Sarah’s arms.

“I wasn’t… I… the card…”

“Shhhh. That’s enough of that.” Sarah held Anise upright again, her gaze penetrating but her expression not one of anger. It seemed like she could look right into Anise’s soul.

It was that stare that had unnerved Anise at the party, some few days before. She had already had more than she should have, but the music was loud and the cocktails went down easy. She’d sized up most of the women there when she’d arrived, and judged none of them to be of any real interest or threat. From then, well, things got a little sloppy. Too many drinks with little umbrellas in them will do that to a girl. Sarah must have turned up later than the others though, because she couldn’t have been missed the first time around. Anise thought she remembered being in the middle of telling a story, but honestly, the details were a little fuzzy. She guessed it must have been a mucky story though, which wouldn’t be a surprise. When she and her girlfriends were well enough lubricated, the normal rules about keeping bedroom chatter in the bedroom got thrown in the bin. What she did remember was looking across the room, and seeing Sarah’s knowing smile, watching her. Taking in her wonderful fitted outfit, ample curves and beautiful hair. It wasn’t an especially big party, so it wasn’t hard to mingle in such a way to make sure that she was nearby so that Anise could keep talking and try to impress. But all those damned little umbrellas, poking her in the eye and every time she finished her friends kept bringing more. And Sarah’s smiling and nodding, but not really joining in the conversation, which only meant that Anise had to talk more, just to avoid those awkward silences. But every sentence she did speak sounded like warm honey to Anise. Every smile made her pleased. She was like no-one Anise had ever met before, and that was the memory that stuck.

The next morning was… illness and regret. Recriminations against friends who failed to keep her sober; forgiveness because they also poured her into a taxi and saw her home, like good friends do. When some normalcy returned, and she sifted through the mail pile to find the card, it was… a wake-up call. Anise didn’t know if she’d managed to impress, or even really what she’d talked about. But she remembered opening up to this woman, and remembered how readily she’d listened. So perhaps this was the break Anise had hoped for, the turning point. Someone on the same wavelength, handing her a lifeline out of her boring job and boring life.

“Kitty is… just where she needs to be.” The voice pulled Anise’s focus back to her situation. Slumped, but held upright by Sarah’s firm grip on her shoulders. Anise worked to avoid the penetrating gaze, relentless and intense. “As are you.” A pregnant pause followed, which Anise did not know how to fill. It wasn’t until she dared to meet the stare that Sarah continued. “I’m pleased you accepted my invitation. I wasn’t convinced that you were really as eager as you made out the other evening.”

At this, Anise had to suppress a shiver. Eager? Damn those little umbrella drinks. What the hell had she been talking about?

“As you can see, rubber is very much a part of our lives.” She gestured over to the girl in the chair, Kitty presumably, who continued to watch from her rubber-clad prison. “But I think you wouldn’t be here if my description of our lifestyle at Emma’s party hadn’t been convincing.”

Shit. Shit! Rubber? Lifestyle? Anise was still trying to avoid Sarah’s gaze, but no longer out of embarrassment about trying to free the girl. What had she thought? A job interview? Some sort of internship? In a place like this? Gods, it was so obvious now: this was some sort of sex club. Or a dungeon! Anise could feel the blood rushing to her normally pale face, reaching up nervously to tuck her soft blonde hair away from her face, her carefully arranged style now unkempt from her careless stumbling around.

Sarah was looking at her a little more critically now, taking in her outfit. “I must admit though, I expected a little more latex in your choice of clothes…”

“I… uh… I actually don’t have any latex clothes.” This was true, mostly. Oh she had some fashion bits and bobs, the sort of cheap stuff Ann Summers sold. A pair of long black latex gloves that she delighted in wearing to parties where the theme allowed her to get a bit kinkier. Looking at Sarah and Kitty though, it was clear she was out of her league. Even in her naughtiest night-time internet browsing she’d never dreamed of herself in this sort of full getup. Even as she thought it to herself, she knew it was a lie. She had dreamed that. More than once. Those half-waking, unguided dreams, the ones that made her wake, flushed and moist, squirming in her bed. The ones that featured a strong, powerful mistress, decked out in rubber, dressing her in rubber, doing such wicked things to… The blush had reached her cheeks now, unmistakable.

“Oh?” Sarah’s raised eyebrow made Anise want to lower her eyes in shame, her usual confidence evaporated like morning mist before a radiant sun. “At the party, the way you spoke about rubber dolls, being dressed that way, it seemed like you knew what you were talking about.” Anise dared a glance up at those intense eyes, bordered in dark makeup to emphasise their power, and meekly shook her head.

“I have some… I wanted to… I mean… I’ve always wanted…” The words trailed off, the thought embarrassing for her to vocalise.

“I see.” The words seemed reassuring, and the brief look Anise chanced found a nodding, understanding face. “You have the dreams. You want to try more, but you haven’t had the chance. Or were you afraid?” Another meek nod. “Well then. I think we can help with that. Follow me.” She raised her index finger to Kitty in a gesture to wait, before turning sharply on her heel and striding from the room, not waiting to see if Anise was following. But what choice did she have? Stay here with Kitty in this little dark room?

Sarah was already some way down the corridor before Anise could catch up, and another seemingly unmarked door was opened. This time the lighting was much more generous, as was the pungent aroma of rubber. Rack after rack of clothes filled the room, hangers draped with latex items of all sorts. Lots of black, but so many other colours. Anise struggled to take it all in as Sarah wordlessly ushered her inside.

“This is one of my favourite parts.” A wicked smile split Sarah’s face as she spoke. “The dressing.” She had already reached out to Anise, running her hands over the shoulders of her suit jacket, tucking the hair that had again fallen in front of Anise’s eyes out of the way behind her ears. “But you have to make a choice now, Anise. You have to ask yourself how much you want to try this, and if you do, then you have to be able to trust me to help you with it.” She was peering intently into Anise’s eyes as she spoke now. Despite being an inch or two shorter in height, even in her heels, somehow she seemed to tower before Anise. “Do you trust me Anise?”

“I… uh…” Somehow Anise couldn’t bring herself to say it, and could only nod. Sarah seemed to weigh that up for a moment, before nodding in agreement. Strong hands turned Anise around, peeling away the soft wool jacket to reveal the simple white blouse underneath. She couldn’t suppress a shiver. Sarah was standing back now, looking her up and down, and she unconsciously started to fuss with her skirt again, only to be stopped, mid-motion. Sarah’s gaze was intense and unwavering, but Anise knew what was expected of her. Nervously, her hands went to the button of her tight skirt, unzipping it enough to let it fall to the ground around her ankles. Sarah’s slight nod of approval made Anise blush far more than the knowledge that she was standing there, exposing her underwear. The blouse fell softly around her hips, long enough to hide her white lacy panties, but not enough to cover the garters holding up her stockings. She’d thought nothing of wearing them when she’d dressed, it was all part of her power wardrobe. Even if no-one ever saw them, she knew they were there, knew how sexy she could look, if she wanted to. And now that choice was being judged.

It was clear that Sarah was waiting, a little more impatiently now. The only thing for it was to unbutton her blouse, peeling it away from her chest to expose the rest of her underwear. A sly smile on Sarah’s face as her pure white bra was revealed was the only hint she gave away. As Anise’s blouse fell to the floor, she continued to watch, impassive and expectant. Anise looked away now, over at the racks of clothes, all entirely rubber. She knew what that meant. These weren’t clothes to be worn over lacy undergarments. Stockings were superfluous. She reached up, slowly, and unclipped her bra, letting it fall away from the breasts of which she was justifiably proud. The room was not cold, but her nipples were unquestionably erect, and Anise knew exactly why. Sarah did too, but she didn’t let it show on her face, simply waiting for Anise to step out of her mid-size heels, one at a time, hook her fingers into her panties and garter belt, peeling them down, letting the suspenders pull the stockings down with them. Finally they were left, in a crumpled little pile over her shoes, as she brought her arms back up to her stomach, hugging herself simply because she couldn’t think what else to do with her hands.

“Very good. And despite its lack of shine, I must say I did enjoy your outfit.” Anise blushed at the compliment. “But here, in my place, we dress in rubber. It’s time you joined us in that…” She stood from the dressing stool where she had been observing Anise, and moved amongst the racks, moving the hangers, examining items and then putting them back. All Anise could do was to stand there, arms wrapped around herself, watching nervously. She returned with three hangers, all in a similar colour. One was clearly panties, stretched out flat; the next stockings; by deduction she figured the last was a bra, although it was difficult to tell, the way it hung from the hanger. All were in a solid light pink, but with black trim to emphasise the edges. All three were deposited next to Anise, before she was handed a bottle of clear liquid. “Dressing aid, of course. Don’t skimp; it needs to be all over…”

Sarah turned away to leave Anise to her preparation, moving amongst the racks again, perusing. Anise stared at the bottle blankly for a moment, her mind still struggling to catch up with her situation. Then at the back of her mind the suggestion that Sarah wouldn’t be pleased to find that she was simply standing around, idle, kicked her into action and she squeezed out a generous portion of the slippery, cold liquid into her hand. Applying it to her body was a shock, but her hands were quickly coated in the lubricant, and it became simply a matter of running her hands over her pale, bare skin. Her nipples were still jutting out obscenely from her perky breasts, and the lube didn’t help with that one iota. As she worked the slick liquid over her chest, the sensation of it against her sensitive nubs made her bite her lip, and perhaps, caused her to linger just a little longer than necessary on working the over that part of her.

It was perhaps that delay that made her companion slip in close behind her and say, “let me help you.” Anise jumped, visibly, as those soft latex gloves pressed into her back, reaching around to her front to gather some of the lube already applied, and then working it over her back and shoulders. Sarah had firm hands, but the touch wasn’t rough. It was almost like a massage, but the sensation of the rubber against her skin was unmistakable, and she could feel it slipping over her, combining with the dressing aid to make the most wonderful sensation. This Anise had already discovered for herself, her own indulgence with her latex opera gloves more often than not consisted of her running her gloved hands all over her own body, paying special attention to between her legs. Anise blushed hard at the thought, and quickly moved her own hand downwards, defensively applying more lube to her stomach and thighs, to forestall Sarah from reaching around to help. She didn’t know if Sarah would be that forward, but now was not the time to find out. Even as she applied it to the front of her thighs, Sarah was working over her back. Bending over to work her way down her legs, Sarah had reached her pert buttocks, sticking out behind her. Anise almost fell over at the sensation of Sarah’s firm hands, kneading her bum, parting her cheeks and working the lube all the way down her crack. Certainly the gasp she let out must have been noticed, but all she could do was to finish off her legs and attempt to straighten up, before her wetness gave away just what this woman’s touch was doing to her.

“Turn around.” It was an instruction, not a request. Anise was slow but not reluctant to comply, acutely aware of Sarah’s gaze sweeping over her nude slick form, looking for any missed areas. “Mmmm, very thorough.” She was holding out the hanger with the panties, dangling them from a finger. Anise was sure she was blushing top to toe now. They seemed so ridiculously tiny, when freed from the clips on the hanger, but as she pulled them up to her waist, the combination of dressing aid and natural stretchiness made it easy to slip them into place. The sensation of the cool rubber nestling into place between her buttocks and over her pussy drew another soft gasp from her mouth. She opened her eyes, having not even realised she’d closed them, to see Sarah’s wry smile and knowing gaze. In her hands the bra, and draped over one arm the stockings. Wordlessly, she insisted on helping Anise fasten the bra, fastidious fingers untucking and adjusting all the little edges of the material against her skin. The touches were swift and sure, but Anise had to suppress the little shiver she felt at each intrusion into her normal solo dressing routine. Though she was left to roll the stockings up and apply them to her long legs without interference, Sarah clearly took great pleasure in taking both slippery gloved hands and smoothing out every little wrinkle, every air pocket, every imperfection in the stockings. The tops reached up to just barely below her panties, and the feeling of those strong, confident hands, slipping further and further up her calves and thighs, was incredible. Anise found herself raising up onto her tiptoes as they did, staring at the ceiling and biting her lip.

When Sarah finally voiced satisfaction that the stockings were done, Anise almost fell back to the floor. Now she had a moment to look at the new items loosely piled on the nearby chair. This time they were white, the first all pleats and folds of rubber in a shapeless mass. But the other was immediately identifiable: a corset, white, latex and shiny. It was to this that Sarah’s hands went next, and before Anise knew it the stiff fabric was wrapped around her waist, and her dresser was fastening the last of the clasps. Anise did love the corsets she’d worn before, and was no stranger to putting them on. Solo, however, was much harder; this time she had a helper only too willing to tighten the laces at her back. Forced to exhale, Anise revelled in the embrace of it, gripping her midriff tightly. The fit was exquisite, the upper edge coming to just above the line of her bra, to leave no skin on display, but not so high that it pressed up against her breasts. She knew it could go tighter, but thankfully Sarah had not chosen to push her on that front. Still, it took a good few seconds of shallow breathing before she started to adjust to the constricting feeling. All the while, Sarah was fussing around her waist, and she realised that the corset provided trailing rubber suspenders that were ensuring that her stockings wouldn’t start to creep back down her thighs. A few clips, and she could feel the latex stockings being tugged upwards, tight and clingy against her thighs.

“Much better. And the skirt.” Sarah’s tone was brusque, a little impatient even, so Anise tried not to delay as she picked up what she now realised was a stretchy little skater skirt, obscenely short by anyone’s standards. She bent over to drop it on the floor and step into it, without thinking, only to find the corset squeezing the breath out of her. Determined, she persevered and managed with outstretched fingers to drag it back up her legs. She was thankful now that Sarah’s fussing with her stockings had lubricated them too, making it easy to work the skirt up and stretch it over her waist. She twisted in place, looking behind her to make sure it was sitting properly, and was gratified to see the pleats swishing and draping over her pert bum. Other than being made of rubber, this wasn’t too far off some of her naughtier outfits from nights out clubbing while still at college. Maybe they weren’t quite this short though.

Sarah re-emerged in her field of view, and Anise realised she’d been rummaging through the racks again. Two pairs of white boots, one in each hand. “Six? Or seven?”

“Uh…” Anise was still struggling to form coherent sentences. What was wrong with her? She was normally so good at this. “Six.”

The sevens were quickly discarded, and Anise pressed backwards onto the soft chair. Gods, she thought, even the seats are upholstered in rubber! But there was no opportunity to resist as the boots were worked onto her stockinged feet. Calf-length, they zipped up snugly, but she couldn’t help but note that the heels were at least 3 inches in height, as tall as any Anise had experience in walking in. But in this corset? She was going to have to concentrate very hard to stay upright, and nothing about this day so far made her think she was going to have the luxury of concentrating.

Sarah, for her part, had stepped back to appraise Anise’s look critically, standing by a full-length mirror in which Anise could see how thoroughly she’d been transformed . The intensity of it made Anise self-consciously start adjusting the little skirt, but there was nowhere for it to go, pulling it down to a more conservative length just exposed the waistline of her panties, and sorting that out just exposed the crotch and the pale skin of Anise’s bum peeking out from below the hem.

“Mmm, yes, that’s more appropriate, for our little den of sin.” Anise blushed, sinful thoughts of her own flitting across her mind’s eye. “How does it feel?”

“It’s… wonderful.” She wasn’t exaggerating. The feel of it, the slick, clinging sensation of the rubber, smooth against her hot skin. “I’ve never dressed up quite like this before.”

“You’ll find there are many more exciting opportunities for dressing in rubber. This is just the start.” Sarah moved around her now, slipping in behind as Anise stayed still, transfixed by the rubber vision in the mirror. Sarah’s hands slipped around her waist, capturing her. “But next time you shall have to be a little more efficient about your dressing routine. Kitty will be wondering just what has happened to us. Assuming of course that her toys haven’t robbed her of her wits already.”

“Toys?” Anise’s confusion was ignored, as Sarah shooed her out of the door and back down the hall. Kitty was just where she had been left, but as they re-entered the room, it was clear that she was in a world of her own. Back arching, wrists straining against the bonds holding her wrists to the chair, her black rubber form squirmed and struggled with what limited freedom she had.

Sarah put her finger to her lips, and they simply stood in the doorway, watching. Anise felt herself getting more and more flushed as Kitty twisted and writhed in the chair, oblivious to her audience. In the silence, she realised she could hear a buzzing, soft and muffled, but insistent. Each time Kitty squirmed in the chair, it would grow louder. Slowly it dawned on Anise: a vibrator, pressing harder against the solid wood of the chair, reverberating through it. No, not a vibrator. Vibrators. Two rhythms, slightly out of sync, growing and fading, fighting with one another. Anise flushed at the thought, her own sex responding to the idea of it, all trapped in rubber, held so very tightly, filled obscenely full, and left to squirm. She looked at Sarah in horror, but was greeted only by a wicked, knowing grin as the mistress watched intently for her reaction. Then the moment was broken, by a long, low moan, accompanied by a primal, heartfelt shudder from Kitty, turning into a groan as she found her climax. There were no words there, only feelings, pushed out of a body filled with exquisite tension, through a gag that robbed her of anything but guttural noises.

Anise was transfixed by the sight of it, frozen in place. She only realised she was holding her breath when Sarah’s sudden voice in her ear made her gasp and exhale noisily. “Are you a little jealous, Anise?” Her voice was low and husky, and her arms snaked their way around Anise’s waist, rubber slipping over rubber. The corset suddenly felt much tighter, as Anise struggled to catch her breath.

“No… I…” Sarah’s grip didn’t loosen, but her arms diverged. One reaching up, slipping over the corset, between Anise’s breasts, pressing into her chest. The other, slipping down, over her stomach, between the folds of the skirt, pressing inwards. Anise let out an involuntary squeak, tilting her head upwards.

“I won’t have you lying to me.” The hand on her mound, cupping her, gave lie to Anise’s words. She could feel it, her wetness, mixing with the dressing aid, parting her lips for the tight latex panties. Sarah’s fingers, separated from her sex by only the thinnest of layers. “Do you wish that was you, there in the chair?” Anise was staring at the ceiling now, afraid to look down again, afraid to look Sarah in the eyes. Kitty, for her part, had stopped moaning, and the room was still, except for the soft, insistent hum of the toys, still buried inside her, and the occasional creak of rubber as she shifted. “Do you want to feel what that can be like?”

Slowly, reluctantly, Anise nodded. She did want it. She was terrified, and lost, and excited, all at once, but as soon as she’d seen Kitty climax in the chair, she’d known it. “Say the words Anise.” Sarah’s voice, low and husky, so close to her ear; her hands and arms, pressed firmly against her.

“I… please… I want to feel it.” Anise’s voice quavered as she spoke, but the words had the desired effect. Sarah’s grip tightened at first, a brief squeeze at Anise’s moist slit, then releasing her, letting her relax back down from a rigid pose she’d barely realised she was holding.

“Mmmm, good girl. Come here now.” A latex glove gripped her wrist, drawing her towards the side of the room, its padded latex walls opening to reveal hidden cupboards. As they moved around the chair Kitty could turn her head to watch them, slumped against her bonds, but eyes still sharp through the small eye holes in her mask. Sarah turned her away from the cupboard to face into the room, to face the chair, she couldn’t help but lock eyes with Kitty. Her eyes were knowing, judging, but the little movements in the chair showed she had other things on her mind. How long had she been in the chair, with those toys inside her? The feeling of her wrists being grasped and tugged behind her shook her from that question. Without thinking, she resisted, trying to pull them forward again. The grip tightened, and Sarah’s voice by her ear spoke sharply. “That’s enough of that.” Then more softly, “the first step to the pleasure is to give your trust. And you want the pleasure…“ It was a statement, not a question, but Anise untensed, and let her arms go loose.

The first she felt of the armbinder was the soft cool rubber, as her fingers were guided into its waiting embrace. A soft hand on her shoulder stopped her pulling forward, as the other shuffled it up her arms. Tighter and tighter, as it worked its way up. Anise bit her lip, concentrating on the sensations. She had to arch her back as the loose binder began to pull her arms together behind her. She moved them around a little, very aware of how difficult it would be to untangle herself from the sack of stretchy material. The straps that held it to her shoulders crossed over in front of her, forcing her to push her chest forward. She could feel the latex bra tightening as her breasts strained against the material, acutely aware of her nipples, hardening and pushing at the rubber. Her eyes closed as she revelled in the feeling of it, only to fly open again as Sarah suddenly pulled the zip upwards. What was fairly loose before quickly became very tight, her elbows pushing together so that they almost met in the small of her back. She gasped as it captured her, straining and tugging against the latex. The freedom she’d had to begin with was gone now, all she could do was to lift the binder away from her back, but her arms themselves were fused together, immobile.

She tried to turn, to see what Sarah was doing. But a hand holding the end of the binder made it easy to stop that. Again, the voice by her ear, the warmth of Sarah’s body, in close against hers. “Too late for that my dear.” Sarah’s gloved hand appeared at her chest again, sandwiching the binder between the two women. “Too late for anything. You will just have to trust me.”

Anise turned her head, as best she could. Sarah’s smile was broad, but there was a hardness there. Anise squirmed, but it was no use. Why had she given in so easily? Kitty was still watching her, intently. Was there something in her eyes too? A smugness? Jealousy? Sarah released her from the intimate hug, but quickly after there was a click, then a tugging on the end of the binder. Anise tried to turn, but the heels, the binder, it all made her very slow. By the time she’d managed to turn to face Sarah, the realisation had dawned on her what had been done. The tugging became more and more insistent, pulling her tightly bound hands up and away from her back. Sarah stood by the wall, turning a handle. The rope it was connected to went up to the ceiling and then down again, to the binder itself. The winding, slow but insistent, forced her to bend, as her arms began to strain.

“Please… I… It’s hurting me.” Her voice felt like someone else was speaking for her, unsure of what would happen.

“That’s right.” The soft clicking of the winch’s ratchet didn’t stop, didn’t even slow.

“Please, I’ve changed my mind.” Anise was squirming harder now, twisting and tugging against the binder, struggling to keep her feet on those heels, precariously balanced as the rope threatened to make her fall. “It’s too tight, please, let me go.”

Sarah didn’t answer, but the winch finally ceased its terrible turning. Anise waited, straining, trying to turn her head to find her tormentor, but somehow she always seemed to be in her blind spot. When Sarah’s gloved hand twined through her hair, tilting her head painfully back, she whimpered a little. “Hush.” The voice was hard, unyielding. “You don’t get a say in how tight I decide to make it.”

Anise couldn’t even struggle now, her head pinned uncomfortably back. She began to protest again, growing desperate now, knowing she would need to plead if she was to get free again. But she didn’t get a chance. The moment her lips parted, Sarah took the opportunity to stuff a thick rubbery lump between her teeth. Anise tried, but couldn’t expel it. Attached was another mass of black, rubbery folds, and Sarah wasted no time pressing it to Anise’s face. She thrashed, what little she could, but it made no difference. Quickly the material was moulded to her face, wrapped around her head, and secured behind. Anise’s long blond hair was gathered up behind, tucked out of the way as the hood was zipped closed. The feeling of it against her face was overwhelming, pressing in so tightly, sticking to her skin. The cool latex quickly warmed, but as much as she threw her head around, she could do nothing to free herself from its embrace. Sarah’s hands moved over it, shifting it around, tugging at her hair. She struggled to breath, until the nose holes were aligned properly. She realised that the mask was like Kitty’s, two small eye-holes providing a blinkered view on the room. Or in her case, the floor, as her bindings made it hard to look at anything else. Unable to do anything else, she tried to focus on her breathing, feeling the corset, tighter than ever, the binder, the clothes, all of them fighting the most basic of human functions. Adrenaline pumping through her, she could feel her nostrils flaring and desperately trying to pull in enough air through the discrete holes in the mask.

“You struggle an awful lot, for a doll.” Anise whimpered a little at that. A doll? The very word sent a shiver through her. Gods, she might as well be a doll now. Wrapped up, dressed up. Posed. She froze, as a pair of boots walked into her field of view, Sarah standing before her, hands on her hips. “You spent all that time talking about this, babbling on, but now you’re getting cold feet?” Anise blinked, feeling her eyelashes fluttering against the rubber of the mask. Talking about it? Time seemed to stretch out, and then the penny dropped. The party. The damned party.

Sarah’s voice was closer now, leaning down, the sound muffled through the thin latex of the mask. “For all that talk, it was clear you were full of it.” Her hand under Anise’s chin, tilting it up, putting a little strain on her neck. “Going on and on about ‘your friend’ who wore rubber all the time. About how you’d have joined in, if it wasn’t for ‘her boyfriend’. But there was no friend. No boyfriend. No-one to tell you what it might actually be like, all trussed up in rubber.”

Anise’s struggles were more subdued now, trying to free herself from Sarah’s grasp, but knowing it was pointless. Her words were cutting, and under the mask Anise was blushing, ashamed. The memories were fuzzy, but as soon as she heard them, she knew it was true. It was the rubber chat, that’s what had caught Sarah’s attention. And Anise had just kept going on about it, even when everyone else had just nodded and drifted away, leaving them alone. The rubber doll stuff, it had always been there, lurking in her fantasies. So much time spent reading about it, trawling the Internet for fuel for her imagination. It was what drove her to buy those few latex pieces she could afford. Had she… did she confess all that to Sarah while drunk?

“You wouldn’t be the first naive little girl to realise her love of latex, despite lacking any real experience. We all started somewhere, indulging ourselves. No, what made you stand out was the sheer rudeness.” Anise winced. “Talking over anyone who dared to contradict your idealised view of what rubberists are supposedly like. Loudly declaring the attractiveness of playing as a rubber doll, despite the fact you had no idea what that’s actually like. Pretending like you were the queen of rubber and it was all so passé.” While she talked, she was smoothing over the rubber of the mask, tugging at the neckline, adjusting it on Anise’s head. The little, random sensations did little to reassure Anise. She was stuck, bound, at the mercy of this woman, who it seemed she’d spent a bunch of time offending.

In the background, the muffled buzzing of Kitty’s toys continued, occasionally spiking. She must be getting driven wild, Anise thought, idly. The softness of the touches, the isolation of the mask, was making her feel a little disconnected. The fear was there, but it was like it was happening to someone else. That feeling didn’t last. Sarah’s hands, roaming over her back, fussing over the binder. Through the thin rubber, the sensations were amplified. Anise couldn’t help but quiver as those slick latex gloves roamed over her helpless body. Tense with fear and held tightly in her bindings, all she could do was squirm.

“Fortunately for you, I enjoy a challenge. Your arrogance, your ignorance, they mean nothing to me.” Her hands slipped over Anise’s bum, lifting up the short skirt, pressing the rubber panties into the cleft of her buttocks. “Kitty was similarly… difficult, when she first came to me.” A moan from across the room punctuated the statement, eliciting a low chuckle from Sarah. “You wouldn’t have come to me, if you weren’t ready to try something new. To put your fate in my hands.” Her hand was delving between Anise’s thighs now, exploring the thin latex over her mound.

The arousal that had slipped away in her fear was still there, fighting her better judgement. The feeling of being so exposed, so helpless, all of the triggers at the core of her fantasies, they were all here, coming true, whether she liked it or not. Her hips, rolling, twisting, trying to avoid the insidious touch, but it was no use. Sarah was in control of her now. Across the room, she could hear Kitty, grinding herself against the chair. Knowing she was being watched, knowing that rubber-clad form was getting off, watching her being toyed with, was almost too much. Sarah’s hand was relentless, teasing her, finding her weaknesses, and she could do nothing about it. Those insistent low moans, changing tenor, growing more insistent, and all she could do was endure. Her body, quivering, sliding, sweating, straining, while her captor chose what was to happen to her. “You’re mine now.” Kitty exploded into orgasm once more, creaking and grinding and straining and moaning. The hand on Anise’s sex vanished, its absence cold and glaring, leaving her squirming and twisting in the wind, straining at her implacable bonds. She sensed Sarah leaving her side, moving towards Kitty, left with only the sensation of the rope, holding her in a tight strappado.

The last words she heard, before the click of heels receded into the hallway, chilled her to the bone. “You knew little of life as a rubber doll before. But we will show you the way.”


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