© Copyright 2014 - anaerobe - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbm; hotel; latex; glove; straps; padlocks; mast; caught; F+/m; captive; bag; enslave; bond; mount; climax; cons/reluct; X
Harry had somewhat reluctantly agreed to participate in his wife’s insistence on another beach vacation. “Seen one beach, you’ve seen them all,” he admonished her during the early planning stages. “Look, honey, Mexico’s got some really great deals at all-inclusive resorts. We’ll all be pampered to death, isn’t that exciting?” she responded.
And so it began. The couple’s teenage daughters enthusiastically joined in the frenzy of anticipation of massages, poolside socializing, free night club entry, & an assortment of restaurants to explore at the expansive resort property. Harry acquiesced, although he was really more of a mountain hiker kind of guy than a pool or beachside lounger. Snorkeling adventures were an option he could enjoy, however, he figured.
The date of departure approached, & Harry faced a seemingly minor obstacle while packing. He had little trouble including the snorkel equipment, but the dilemma arose as to whether he dared sneak a locking latex hood or two into the checked luggage. He would miss all his toys if he didn’t, he reasoned, but what if customs officials dragged out his fetish equipment for all to see during the anticipated inspections. “Excuse me, sir, is this yours?” he imagined, further visualizing his profound humiliation in front of his shocked wife & daughters. It could all turn out to be more than a worst nightmare, he decided.
The lily-white appearing all American gringo family thus departed sans Harry’s beloved sex toys, arriving uneventfully at the over-the-top grandiose resort of his wife, Sherry’s, dreams. Amanda & Jeannie, their daughters, were awed by the grand entryway, porters waiting on them, & young bucks strolling around the lobby flexing their tanned, beach-ready bodies. As Sherry & Harry were no longer sexually active on a regular basis, at least in a traditional sense, a large room with 2 double beds sufficed for the family.
For his part, Harry was a little underwhelmed, but went along peacefully enough. There was a fairly long walk between the family’s room & the restaurant areas, up to 10 minutes or so, for each meal. But all-included means no one wants to miss out on the “free” lunch, especially if you’ve already paid for it. So they faithfully made the trek to each meal after the multiple wardrobe changes necessitated by poolside ventures alternating with public appearance-suitable fashion.
Harry finds the Glove of His Life
After a day or two of this routine, Harry lagged behind the group a few steps, as an object of interest had caught his eye during their voyage through the long hallways. It was a bright red, medium weight, smooth surfaced pair of chlorinated latex gloves on each of the cleaning women’s rolling supply carts. During one of his 2-3 second separations from his family’s entourage, he paused to feel one of the gloves. It was actually slippery to the touch, included a high, extended cuff, & rippled smoothly in his grip. A second time, he was able to grab a sniff. The pure latex aroma inside the glove was heavenly, mixed with the acrid odor of the maids’ sweat, & a little hint of industrial-strength chemical cleanser.
As the week wore on, Harry spent more time up in the room, where the cool air conditioned environment permitted comfortable reading time; he’d had enough broiling in the sun at the pool, unlike his wife & daughters, who couldn’t seem to get enough tropical heat. Harry really missed the recreational activity of playing in his latex hoods at home, & being away from his toys was making him feel hornier each day. A plan occurred to him. He would “borrow” one of these now very appealing objects of desire while strolling through the hallways, as the carts were frequently unattended. By cutting a hole through the tip of the thumb, he should be able to insert a curved snorkel attachment through the thumb shaft, with its oblong mouthpiece still on the inside of the smooth, sexy-smelling glove. He should be able to stretch the strong, extended rubber cuff over his head & neck, thus permitting him to breathe through the snorkel elbow connecting piece while enclosed in the tightness of the slippery, smooth improvised red latex hood. A luggage strap would be easily lockable around his neck with padlock & key, & he would be a prisoner in the maids’ beautiful, but funky, grungy rubber glove!
By the end of the week, only one day remained for the plan to be put into action. On a sunny afternoon, coming back from lunch, Harry told Sherry he’d read in the room while she & the girls enjoyed their last day at the pool. He encouraged them to go ahead, saying he’d be fine, & they shouldn’t feel badly about it, he insisted. It came as no surprise to Sherry, as Harry was no sun worshipper.
On their return from lunch, Harry couldn’t help but notice a supply cart parked next to their door. It belonged to Esmerelda, a thin, sinuous, innocent-appearing beauty in her mid 20’s, who Harry found exotic & intriguing. So, as soon as Sherry & the girls had left the room & disappeared down the long hallway, he made his move. It was actually quite easy, sliding the pliable rubber glove into his pocket with no one to see him in the empty hallway, then slipping quickly back into the privacy of his room.
Once there, he quickly improvised his instrument of self-bondage, cutting the tip off the thumb, inserting the smooth end of the snorkel elbow attachment inside, with the wide mouthpiece remaining in the body of the glove. He had his locking luggage strap ready, & stretched the improvised hood over his head & neck with a sharp snap. The odor & slick feel of the inside of the glove was intoxicating. He inhaled Esmerelda’s fragrant sweat & sucked the smooth latex into his nostrils. The makeshift hood clung to his face like glue & the strap, now locked over the long rubber glove cuff, tightly enclosed his neck as well as a store bought slave collar. His breathing was freely enabled through the silicone snorkel attachment; he was ecstatic. He used another spare luggage strap to restrain his hands behind his back, & slipped the shackles of 2 spare padlocks through the hasps of the straps after verifying the accessibility of the appropriate keys. Once the padlocks clicked shut, he fantasized he was Esmerelda’s rubber glove prisoner, ready to be used as her sex slave.
Now on his stomach, he became more & more aroused, grinding his ready erection into the carpeted surface on the floor, & came forcefully, but quickly. Just during the moment when savoring the release of his long denied sexual tension was lingering in his sated state of consciousness, a loud knock came at the door, followed by the sing-song voice of Esmerelda, “La limpia. Servicio de limpieza.”. He was, of course, unable to respond with anything more than a grunt & a moan, & clumsily tried to get up, backing up to the table on which he’d placed the keys for his release, as Esmerelda burst through the door. “Discúlpeme, Señor” she murmured. Once she saw the scene confronting her, though, she quickly intervened, pushed Harry away from the table, & back onto the floor. “Bien, bien, Mr. Gringo, what do we have here?” Harry could hear a distinct change in her tone, which suddenly became derisive & domineering.
“You fall into my needs, gringo” Esmerelda cooed with a heavy accent, in slightly broken English. She collected the keys, quickly exited the room, after firmly ordering Harry about, with a final, “Make sure you don’t go nowhere. I’ll be right back!”
Harry struggled wildly, but the padlocks & straps he’d hastily prepared for his supposed self-supervised ordeal held tightly around his neck & wrists. Within moments, Esmerelda reappeared, now with a burly, belligerent maid Harry had seen during the week, Beatrice, who he recognized by her voice & rough touch, as she drew him to his feet. Before any effective protest could be mounted, Harry was wrestled into the bottom of a linen cart by the two women, & covered with his own family’s used bedsheets. He was spirited out into & down the hallway, then through a doorway only a few doors down from his room. A bounce over an uneven threshold, & he could hear his otherwise silent captors breathing heavily as a sliding door closed & the trio descended choppily downward. The women began talking again, excitedly, as they exited the freight elevator, into a noisy, hot basement room.
Harry’s Spanish was poor to non-existent, but he could make out a few phrases, & the context of the conversation, he suspected, had to do with Beatrice congratulating Esmerelda on providing entertainment for the maids at their Friday night basement party. As the sheets were removed, Harry could hear the loud boilers & pumps, & feel the stagnant, hot, humid air of the basement dungeon into which he’d been transported. The two women tied him down on a wide bench, face up, with his hands still bound behind his back, his only access to the outside world remaining through the snorkel elbow piece.
As the maids left Harry to his own devices, he began to contemplate prolonged captivity at the hands of the now obviously unpredictable, but still very alluring Esmerelda. He figured his kidnapping would be discovered by his wife & daughters at any time. They were due to return home the following day, & he could just imagine Sherry being interviewed endlessly by the local Policia, then the Federales, as the crime would have left no trace or clue as to his whereabouts. His family would no doubt be resigned to returning home without him after a long, frustrating delay.
After what seemed like an eternity in the hot, noisy boiler room, Esmerelda & Beatrice returned, this time with several other maids. Harry could hear them babbling excitedly, as they seemed very pleased with his presence. They stroked his cheeks through the smooth latex glove & laughed riotously. The party really got started, though, when one of the maids arrived with a bottle of tequila. Harry could hear the maids passing it around, getting more & more rowdy, urging the provider of their refreshment to take her reward. He quickly felt his air supply blocked, pressure on the snorkel elbow bending up towards his nose, & the unseen heroine of the party planted her butt cheeks firmly on his face.
Restrained as Harry was, he had little choice but to endure the rocking motions she made, which became more & more vigorous, allowing him only very brief access to minimal amounts of air as she unplugged his airway from her cunt, only to reinsert it slowly & then forcefully sit down sharply. She held her hips down over him unyieldingly after multiple reinsertions, tightening the grasp of her thighs around his head & neck until he could hear her moan & grip him even more unforgivingly for what seemed like forever. Finally, to the cheers of her colleagues, she dismounted & he could hungrily take in “fresh” air.
Harry could hear the tequila flow, the plastic cups being “clinked” against one another in a seemingly endless series of toasts. A rousing chant emerged, “Esmerelda, Esmerelda…” it went, & now Harry knew what they were up to. The erstwhile object of his admiration was being elected to be his next tormentor, as reward for her provision of her victim for the enjoyment of her comrades.
He felt Esmerelda mount his face delicately, then playfully deny him air as she repeatedly rubbed the silicone snorkel attachment up & down over her vulva & vaginal sphincter. This was so unlike her timid, wholesome demeanor he’d known all week. Harry felt teased, but not yet in imminent danger, an emotion he realized he had enjoyed too soon. Esmerelda jammed the airway way up inside her unexpectedly. This was a side of the woman he had never suspected. She had her buttocks over his eyes & nose, leaned forward, & pressed his head brutally into the end of the bench. His neck ached, but the lack of air became his highest priority. Esmerelda didn’t release, she just rocked & ground her hips more & more firmly down onto his face, showing him no mercy. A moment or two of no air, till he could take no more, & she dismounted with a loud shriek, much to Harry’s relief.
He was starting to feel very sorry for himself, as he’d gotten himself into this jam, & was now the victim of an out of control gang bang at the hands of a band of drunken Mexican cleaning women! He could hear them drinking & chatting loudly; more or less nothing could be heard over the racket of the boilers & pumps in the basement. A new chant arose, & he knew it was really time to worry. “Beatrice, Beatrice…” it went. It sounded like Beatrice had had too much to drink, & the others had to help her up. She lurched around, banging into him & his bench, before asking for help to mount him in a slurred, barely intelligible tone. The others acknowledged her role in providing him as the centerpiece of their entertainment, & one maid on each side of the obese, drunk Beatrice lifted her over the end of the bench.
Beatrice’s massive cheeks met his temples first, then she leaned forward to insert his airway into her sloppy vaginal orifice. She ground his head brutally into the bench, being so much heavier than Esmerelda. Her rocking & grinding grew slower after a few seconds, & now she just hung over him, motionless. Harry could hear her breathing heavily, actually snoring. Her friends were pushing her, slapping her, & trying in vain to wake the now unconscious sleeping beauty with all her weight perched on Harry’s face.
Harry was in a panic; Beatrice’s enormous body weight was unmovable, he could get no air whatsoever for much too long. He grew faint, & began to lose consciousness, just as he could feel two or three of the merry crew push the unresponsive Beatrice sideways off him.
A Dismal Future Awaits
Esmerelda attended to his very basic needs as the party wore down, pouring water & a little corn chowder down his airway, both of which choked him more than anything else. She helped him up to sit on an old commode to relieve himself, then tied him down again to the bench, before taking her leave of him for the night. Harry was now resigned to a longer term fate than he could have ever expected. Esmerelda leaned over his sweat soaked, aching face, before locking the boiler room door heavily behind her, & reassured him, “Just wait till you see the parties we have planned for next week!”
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