© Copyright 2014 - anaerobe - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-M; F+/m; D/s; dommes; dungeon; cell; latex; catsuit; hood; inf; gag; bond; breathplay; mast; climax; cons; X
The Research Phase
Ira Miller had been scouring dozens of alluring websites for weeks, now that he had filed his tax return & saw a substantial refund coming his way. He could finally afford the vacation of his wildest dreams, a trip abroad to a week at a rubber “camp” specializing in bondage & discipline. Admittedly, the pictures of the owners of these highly esteemed establishments were powerful motivators, as were the descriptions of the elaborate bondage rituals they held in store for their prospective customers, catering to a wide variety of tastes & sexual idiosyncrasies.
His own preference was for latex domination & breath control, so his attention was naturally drawn to the website for “Mistress Mara’s Ultimate Rubber Experience”. Of particular interest was the revolving panorama of photographic vignettes of beautiful, grinning, shiny latex-clad women engaged in heinous acts of smothering & breath control, hovering over their charges who were confined in vacbeds, cubes, cages, coffins, facesit boxes, & all manner of restraints. The international staff obviously were enjoying themselves, although oozing arrogance & disdain for their victims. Probably the most appealing aspect was the promise of experiencing the “Dominatrix of the Day” program, whereby a weeklong package included the opportunity to be dominated by a new ravishing beauty every day of the week.
The customers, of course, had posted the most enthusiastic, positive reviews imaginable, inviting viewers to join them to act out the superbly intense, masochistic fantasies their dull, boring lives would never provide. Occasionally, some of the reviews gave Ira pause, such as one which included the phrase “I can’t recommend this program highly enough”. Most, however, were compelling & over-the-top wildly ecstatic about the camp, willing to spend their last dollar for the experience if they had to, so they claimed.
The camp was located in an obscure setting in an eastern European country known for authoritarian rule & corruption that enabled such an enterprise to flourish under police protection. “We provide all attire – What you wear is yours to keep!’ the website proclaimed. As promised, the “staff” was eclectic in origin, offering the services of a panel of truly photogenic beauties to provide spice & variety for a full week: Svetlana, Ulrike, Bettina, Inga, Katarina, Maria, & Vanessa. No ugly 7 dwarfs, this bunch!
Of course, Mara, the ringleader, or Madam of the operation, was resplendent in head to toe glistening catsuit & corset, with long, flowing red hair & endless legs in high heeled boots, always pictured with an evil smirk & an intimidating whip, crop, or other weapon of humiliation. Ira was sold.
He made his plans, not caring very much about the exorbitant cost, & grew increasingly tense & anxious as his departure date approached. Finally came the packing, the trip to the airport, the interminable waiting for security clearance, boarding, of course, the endless flight across the pond, & a connecting flight in Paris to the capital city of his destination country.
A petite, attractive blonde dressed in high heels & a tight black leather skirt & jacket held a sign bearing his name in the baggage claim area. She smiled broadly when he showed recognition, introduced herself as Katya, then seriously & imperiously commanded “Follow me” once Ira had collected his bag. She was obviously quite fit, & loaded the baggage effortlessly into the trunk of a late model Skoda sedan, motioning for him to sit in the back seat as she took the wheel. They were quickly on a major access road, then a secondary 2 lane road in need of repair for a good half hour. Ira made clumsy attempts at conversation, asking about the weather, local sights, the traffic, & so forth. His driver, however, despite having a fairly good command of English, limited most of her replies to one sentence answers, not being overly curt, but business-like & professional. She’d probably seen more than a few rubber sex tourists like him in the course of her daily routine, & had her own concerns on her mind, he imagined.
After a while, the periods of silence no longer seemed as awkward, & Ira contented himself with watching the still half-frozen, dreary, grey landscape glide past him. He noticed the dense, dark rain clouds, the budding trees of early spring, occasional patches of slush, & dirty snow piles, evidence left behind of random, hit & miss maintenance. Ira felt himself surrounded by an aura of stagnant dilapidation & depression, daydreaming as he gazed out the window.
Finally, his driver pulled off the main road onto a dirt access road that led up to a property that seemed a little more well maintained than the neighboring areas, particularly notable for its enclosure by a tall, iron fence with a continuous array of pointed spikes arced towards the interior of the compound to deter anyone agile enough to climb a 10 foot high fence in order to gain entry. “At least it wasn’t topped with barbed wire” Ira reassured himself, until he saw an icon indicating high voltage electricity that protected the fence from intruders. His driver remotely opened the gate, & they passed into the estate, whereupon he noticed the more obvious, larger sign proclaiming risk of death by electrocution, in several languages, which was on the inside of the now solidly self-locked wrought iron gate. It was now plain that the most ambitious security measures were those intended to prevent escape, rather than unauthorized entry.
The details of the compound entryway were lost on Ira for the most part, though, as his thoughts were racing with the promise of eroticism that awaited him. His car pulled up to a massive stone structure with towers & turrets, hidden from the access road by the dense forest growth around it. As Ira’s driver opened his car door in front of the elaborate stone front entrance, two large but extremely gorgeous women clad in gleaming latex helped Ira with his bag & led him through a broad courtyard decorated with a grand collection of stone sculptures depicting classic nude female figures, varying from Grecian to Rubenesque in style. He couldn’t help but feel the very overbearing focus on the female presence subliminally infiltrating his senses.
Ira’s escorts led him to the far side of the courtyard, then through heavy medieval style double doors to a grand foyer which he estimated to be about 40 feet wide & at least 75 feet long. At the far end of the marble tiled hall, a throne sat on an elevated platform, framed by massive, well polished black latex drapes hung around the entire perimeter of the chamber. On either side, high stone arches harboring symmetrically placed alcoves were visible, also partially obscured by similar heavy latex drapery. Of note were sturdy iron rings embedded in the masonry of the archways, as well as attached to the floor of the hall every 10 feet or so along its length. Lit torches at the top of each archway supplemented ambient background lighting from the limited cloudy late afternoon daylight visible through arched skylights high above him.
Ira was in awe. “This entire place is a dungeon!” he told himself. His reverie was interrupted by one of the two escorts, the blonde in a bright, scarlet latex catsuit, who pinched his ass gently, but possessively, introducing herself as Bettina. Her straight blonde page boy hairstyle framed her youthful, but angular facial features as if to reinforce Ira’s perception that she left nothing to chance. Her business-like demeanor matched her appearance, & obviously did not invite negotiation or discussion. “Enough sightseeing, Mr. Miller, let me show you to your room. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know the Hall of Judgment” she sternly stated in a firm tone, with a pronounced Germanic accent. She proceeded with the introduction of the understandably necessary paperwork, including liability waivers & seemingly innumerable disclaimers by which Ira signed his vanilla life away to Mistress Mara’s control.
Bettina led Ira through the last alcove on the right, closest to the throne, as they approached the end of the long cavernous hall. She made a smooth, swishing noise as she parted the drapes in the interior of the alcove, which made Ira a little more nervous. His reaction to the movement & sound of the latex came as an unexpected surprise to him. A solid wooden door at the back of the shadowy alcove became visible in the dim light. Bettina unlocked a padlock which had secured a heavy iron deadbolt on the outside of the door. The heavy metal hinges creaked & groaned as she opened it to reveal a neatly made bed with black latex sheets, night table, & dresser in the small, arched wood paneled room. A shower, commode & sink in an adjacent small private bathroom were the only other amenities.
“Make yourself comfortable, but be ready for dinner, followed by our assembly. It is a Saturday night banquet, after all. It all starts at 6 o’clock. I’ll come to get you at 5 minutes before the hour. You need only dress with the attire provided for you in the dresser, but above all, nothing else” she added, with a finality that Ira had little ambition to challenge. With that the two escorts left Ira in his room, locking the heavy door securely behind them.
Ira was exhausted; he had gotten little sleep during his journey, but his astonishment at his new surroundings had kept him in a state of stimulation overload, leaving little time to realize how tired he was until now. He dropped quickly into a dreamlike state, lulled into semi-consciousness surrounded by the aroma of latex & the image in his mind of the beguilingly alluring Bettina.
He was jarred awake by the opening of the latch on his door, reflexively muttering to himself, “Doesn’t anybody knock anymore?” Bettina appeared, hands on her hips, imperiously staring down at him with a sneer. “You didn’t come all this way to sleep, did you? Were you waiting for me to come & dress you?” With that she jerked open the dresser drawer, & threw a black latex catsuit at Ira. “You have just 4 minutes now to prepare, so make it quick!”
Ira may have still been groggy & bone-tired, but he did know that he was here to be dominated, & in latex, so he promptly threw off his street clothes & slipped into the catsuit. It was already lightly lubed, well proportioned for him, snugly sliding over his legs, torso, & arms with a welcoming embrace. The back zip closed with an appropriately firm fit, tightly grasping his neck with a thick rubber collar, as Ira found the oversized zipper pull easy to grasp. He wondered why the thick steel rim of the pull surrounded a central opening as wide as his finger, & what purpose the D-rings on either side of the base of his neck were likely to serve. He pulled on matching lacquered black rubber boots over the attached feet of the suit. He always liked the “whoosh” of air escaping rubber boots as they slid onto his feet.
With that, Bettina again appeared in the doorway, impatiently gesturing him to approach. As he did, she opened a 4 inch thick steel hinged collar around the front of his neck, & clicked the latch of it closed behind him, allowing a metal hinged hasp to fold onto the base of a prominent thick metal post emanating from the opposite side of the collar. A cylindrical passage at right angle to the length of the post had been drilled through its end. With two quick, apparently habitual movements, she fastened the D-rings at the base of his neck to the sides of the steel collar with padlocks.
The oversized zipper pull of his catsuit slid over the post at the back of his neck, & the chain attached to the collar through its post enabled Bettina to lead the overtired, overwhelmed, & not entirely overly bright Ira out into the alcove. The free end of the chain was locked to an iron ring embedded in the stone arch of the alcove, & Bettina motioned for Ira to sit at the formally set dinner table for two in the semi-private space off the main hall.
As he glanced around the hall, Ira could see several of the alcoves filling up with “customers” similar to him, ushered to their dinner table by fantastically beautiful but unusually tall, muscular women dressed, as was Bettina, in brightly colored, well shined, glistening latex catsuits. Each had led her charge from their well secured quarters in the back of each alcove out into the public arena of the hall, & each had a collar locked to the neck of his catsuit, which was in turn locked by a chain to an iron ring in the stone archway of each alcove. As the various stations filled, Ira could count 7 “teams” which were participating in the festivities. Flames rose 3-4 feet high from a basin filled with oil on either side of the throne & its raised platform. Somber, but refined chamber music lofted in the background, which ceased as soon as all 7 alcoves were filled.
Trumpets blared, the lights dimmed, then spotlights illuminated the throne, as a tall, statuesque redhead with flowing long locks, ruddy complexion, & high cheekbones ascended the stage, to the applause of all the staff. Most of the now captive clients rose in an involuntary show of respect for the formidable figure on the stage; the minority of stragglers who hesitated were roughly brought to their feet by their keepers. Mara was resplendent in a flowing red latex cape draped over a bright metallic midnight blue iridescent latex catsuit, topped off with shoulder length opera gloves to match, & equally well shined over the knee black latex boots with 6” heels. The reflection of the orange flames accentuated the gleam of her attire. She held a long black bullwhip in her right hand, commanding the attention of the assembly with a loud crack of the whip, & a roar: “Let the festivities begin!”
At her prompt, an additional formally attired staff of at least 7 apparently male figures dressed in black latex bodysuits & hoods formed a procession, serving decadent scallop & shrimp appetizers, an elaborate salad, homemade bread fresh from the oven, & a main course of succulent roast beef with a side of lobster tail, accompanied, of course, by a finely aged French wine (a St. Emilion ’67 Bordeaux, this evening). The keepers joined their charges for an amicable dinner, & were it not for the catsuits, locking collars, & chains locked to the rigid structures around them, Mara’s guests could have been at an elite dinner party or the finest restaurant. Bettina even seemed human & almost sociable, smiling innocently as she passed Ira the choice white asparagus & superb white sauce in a silver dish. “There’s no plate like chrome for the Hollandaise, you know,” she said sarcastically with a hint of a smile. As soon as dessert (freshly made Tiramisu) was consumed, Mara again caught the attention of her audience with a sharp crack of her whip.
With that, all 7 guests remained seated as their Amazonian overseers stood at attention. Mistress Mara addressed the assembly. “Welcome, all! You’ll be well looked after, have no fear of the week in front of you, although it should be a challenge & struggle for most of you. As you may have concluded by now, you’ve each been assigned to your first dominatrix for the next 24 hours as you begin your week. Each goddess may do with you as she pleases for the one day period of time which is her domain. She may share you with other staff members or keep you for herself, as her whim & your behavior dictates. My rules are only that each of you wears a headgear device which shall bear the lock of each of the 7 goddesses, such that your headgear may not be eligible for removal until you’ve satisfied the trials & tribulations each of them has to offer & met their exacting standards. Mine is the final, the one that holds the key to your completion of the program in exactly one week. We meet here each evening to share a good meal & carry out the transfer from your mentor of the day to that of the next. Ladies, present the required headgear to our guests!”
Each of the staff promptly opened a drawer in each alcove, bringing out a heavy black contraption with a thick, smooth inflatable latex inner bladder with clear vinyl eyes & a zippered closure at the back of its neck. A beefy black leather outer helmet surrounded the inner bladder, featuring a rear entry lined on both sides by grommets capable of being locked together by the use of padlocks at exactly seven points. An oversized matching metal grommet had been created at the bottom of each side, at collar level. A dildo emanated from the mouth of the leather helmet, protruding through the inner rubber bladder, internally ending in a large breathe-through ball gag device, anchored firmly with a wide flange inside the rubber bladder.
A series of seven horizontal holes through the shaft of the dildo supplemented the airway in its central passage, each separated by a raised rubber ring every inch along the length of the device. Eyeholes in the leather outer helmet corresponded to the vinyl eyes of the inner bladder. D-rings adorned the temples on both sides. Finally, a valve stem extended from the top of the bladder, through the leather of the helmet, equipped with central trocar & knurled nut to maintain pressure inside the helmet after inflation of the bladder.
Mistress Mara continued “You will submit to the wearing of your headgear for 22 hours of each day, only removing it for your evening banquet meal. Your hydration during the day may be accomplished with a straw through your airway, should you have the chance. You shall begin your journey this evening with the full complement of seven locks to secure your cooperation, replacing the remaining locks at the completion of our meal each night which will be secured by the overseers you have yet to serve. Beware, however, because one more lateral airway vent will be sealed each evening, beginning at the base. Begin!” she commanded with another crack of her whip.
Ira was trembling at the vision of Bettina holding his rubber & leather prison to be, as she smirked with an evil grimace. He could see the process beginning across the hall, as a sturdy brunette clad in bright yellow latex abruptly placed the device over her equally fearful captive’s head, quickly zipping the rubber inner bladder closed around his neck as he took the hidden ball gag end of the dildo airway into his wide open mouth. The leather outer helmet was swiftly locked through the top grommets of the rear entry of the helmet, the oversized orifices on each side at the base of the helmet sliding neatly over the metal post of his steel collar, into which the padlock chaining him to the archway above his head clicked ominously.
The now trembling subject of the brunette’s efforts was helpless as a procession of the seven goddesses added their padlock to each of the remaining 6 levels of security at the back of his neck, each of them retaining the key to the padlock they’d installed. The brunette used a hand pump to inflate the inner bladder to create a ball hood effect. The victim had been rendered entirely defenseless. No accidental escape was likely, as a total of 8 keys each hidden separately on Mara & the 7 assistants’ persons would be needed at the same time to release the captive.
Our hero was aghast at the process, especially how quickly & efficiently it had been accomplished with minimal to no cooperation but no significant resistance from the guest across the hall from him. As he contemplated what his reaction to this rough treatment would be, he caught sight of an evolving skirmish in the next alcove down the hall, across from his view. Apparently, the honored guest who was second in line for the procedure had gotten cold feet & decided to resist. He struggled with a curvaceous young woman in bright blue latex, pulling off the outer helmet, bracing his jaw to prevent the ball gag insertion, trying to unzip the inner rubber liner, & generally causing a ruckus. It took less than 2 seconds for Mistress Mara to address the irregularity with a snap of her fingers.
All seven dominatrix’s leapt on him like a pack of wild dogs on a helpless fawn. Ira could barely believe the agility & speed with which Bettina joined the fray, placing her knee strategically in the small of the second victim’s back, drawing his elbows back forcefully while her girlfriends cuffed his hands behind his buttocks, & completed the headgear installation without further delay. Ira & several other guests strained at the chains locked onto their collars, but were helpless to assist the now subdued victim.
Once all 7 padlocks were in place, & the collar post locked to the archway, additional chains were attached to the iron rings embedded in the marble floor on either side of the unfortunate soul. Mistress Mara nodded to his overseer in blue, who promptly overinflated his headgear bladder to a painful degree, eliciting a miserable moan from the victim, who held his now rock hard helmet with his hands, dropping to his knees in agony. As the process turned to the next in line, Ira had little doubt that any strategy of resistance would be futile.
The process proceeded, effectively enslaving all 4 of the guests on the opposite side of the hall from Ira, as the parade of catsuited captors secured each victim with the required seven padlocks & the personal keeper of each guest inflated the headgear to optimally intensify the challenge within. Then, his moment of truth had come. Bettina stretched the latex of the inner bladder around his ears, lowered the ball gag on the inner end of the breathe-through rubber dildo to meet his lips, & firmly commanded, “Open, my toy!” Ira still held the image of the resistor in his mind, who had struggled vainly to avoid the gag, & opened his mouth weakly, allowing the well-practiced Bettina to smoothly insert the ball fully inside with one quick thrust. He bit down hard & then felt the velvety smooth, fragrant, stretchy latex of the interior of the bladder sliding over his temples, cheeks, jaw, & finally his neck.
Suddenly, he felt his air supply fade, as breathing around the gag or through his nose was blocked. As Bettina abruptly zipped the neck closed, he succumbed to a moment of overwhelming panic, & began to flail about with his arms & neck purposelessly. Bettina, who had seen this reaction many times before, gently stroked Ira’s shoulders, softly talking him through the futile reaction. “Just breathe through your mouth, through the gag, you’ll be fine” she murmured, as if to avoid being heard by her colleagues, lest she be considered too easy on her slave.
Bettina’s strategy worked, & Ira now felt strangely calm after hearing her supportive words. He allowed her to slip the leather outer helmet over the dildo airway & the valve stem, passively awaiting the final clicks of seven padlocks down the back of his neck & the shackle into the post over the catsuit pull & helmet collar grommets. The inflation was not even difficult for him, as he now enjoyed the relative quiet of his confinement, reminding himself of the comforting, erotic power of tight, smooth latex enveloping his entire physical presence, now head to toe.
He relaxed once he had passed the point of no return & accepted his fate passively. He could hear the remaining guests submitting to their lot as the lavish latex banquet agenda approached its conclusion. Mistress Mara made her rounds to inspect the handiwork of her assistants, applying a sturdy padlock through the post at the back of each prisoner’s collar, locking their catsuit & headgear securely in place. A bullwhip crack, now heard faintly through his headgear provided a finality he could not defy.
Bettina led Ira through the back of the alcove into his quarters, supporting him gently as he collapsed from the weight of fatigue, wine, & the overwhelming events of the evening. “Sleep now, my dear, for you’ll have much to endure in the morning” she added, as she left him, & then locked the deadbolt in place from the outside of the door to Ira’s cell.
Ira awoke after a sound sleep, with a soreness in his jaw, realizing his whole head was still enveloped in tight, suffocating rubber, reminding himself to concentrate on breathing through his gag. At first, he assumed he was alone. As his eyes opened, however, they met Bettina’s smiling face. Privacy, he reminded himself, was no longer his prerogative, & besides, he was in no position to discuss the matter. “Good morning, Mr. Miller”, Bettina politely introduced herself as if they’d never met, adding “I’ll be your suffocatrix today,” suggesting, of course, a dominatrix whose only purpose in life was his suffocation.
Bettina slid her hands lightly over his catsuit, running down his chest, abdomen, & thighs with a delicate friction that sent a subtle chill down Ira’s spine. She rubbed her firm, latex covered breasts down the surface of his chest & belly, producing a shuddering vibration & the squeaking sound of latex against latex. She slowly unzipped the crotch of Ira’s suit from front to back, exposing his now hardening cock, massaging him firmly as his erection grew, pinching the tip, adding a lick with a smooth, slow motion of her tongue down his shaft. Before he knew it, she was pumping him vigorously with strong sucking efforts.
Ira came forcefully, & was beside himself with joy, until Bettina shifted her legs to straddle his head, inserting her spiked boot heels deeply into the D-rings on either side of his head. He’d lost his interest in a post-orgasmic fog, but Bettina was riding him like there was no tomorrow. She came off him only long enough to unzip her own crotch, & only then did Ira know it was time to worry. He could see a ready, dripping wet cunt in front of his face through his vinyl lenses, then her red shiny latex ass descending over his eyes. She played with his airway, rubbing it more & more forcefully up & down her labia, until she took the dildo inside her, slowly at first, then deeply. Ira’s air supply was cut by a half as the central passage of the dildo was blocked, then 1/7th more with each thrust, as Bettina’s vaginal sphincter engulfed the rubber flanges between each of the air vents on the sides of the dildo.
Finally, she was down to the last orifice at the base of the appliance. She toyed with him, letting up enough to allow a breath, and then sitting firmly down on him as she exulted in her dominance over her slave’s life force repeatedly. Ira’s arms were pinned under her shins, & any head movement was impossible with her heels immobilizing his helmet. “Now I hope you get it, you little worm. First I come, then you breathe, not before!” she exclaimed excitedly. Ira struggled, but waited in a panic to draw a breath. Finally, Bettina arched her back forcefully, squeezed his airway mightily in her vaginal muscles, holding her grip for what seemed like an eternity to Ira. She lifted herself just enough to allow one breath, and then relaxed for a brief moment before dismounting.
Bettina luxuriated for a long while in the afterglow of her orgasm. “It’s Sunday morning, Ira, why don’t we just loll around in bed today, take it easy?” She sounded as casual as a vanilla girlfriend on a weekend retreat with her lover. Ira, for his part, had just had what felt like a near-death experience, & was thankful to be breathing at all. After all, he was still locked in head-to-toe latex, his head immobilized in a pressurized rubber prison, with his jaw aching from the dildo ball gag that had just been forced down his throat by Bettina’s thrusting. What was he supposed to say, “Sounds good, dear! Why don’t we read the Sunday paper & send out for pizza?”
The reverie of this odd couple brought together by warped circumstances, such as they were, was interrupted by a knock on the door. “At least someone knocks around here” Ira thought to himself. “Come in” answered Bettina for him. A tall, slender youthful woman with black hair dyed with streaks of silvery blue entered, wearing a seamless black & blue metallic silver striped catsuit which matched her hair entered. Ira found the seemingly wrinkle-free catsuit to be intriguing, as it clung without an air pocket or bubble anywhere, fitting as if it were a second skin.
“Hi, Ulrike” Bettina greeted the new arrival. “We’ve just been getting acquainted this morning. This is Ira.” Ulrike smiled at Ira, although focusing her gaze more at his crotch than his face. She responded with a tale of disappointment. “My slave is still passed out. Guess he drank too much last night. I can barely wake him up at all, forget sex!” she lamented.
“Well, then why don’t you join us?” Bettina countered. “I’m sure Ira’s got more from where the last load came from. He’s good at holding his breath, too. Just give him a minute or two to recover, of course”. With that, she began massaging his cock again, & Ulrike sat on his chest with her black & blue latex ass in front of his face, grinding steadily up over his helmeted head. She, too, unzipped her crotch just enough to accept his dildo, & the air hunger began anew. Ulrike was even more skilled at obstructing the top 6 air vents on the side of the dildo, & teasing him with what little air the 7th orifice at the base would allow according to the rhythm of her pelvic thrusts.
Meanwhile, Bettina had coaxed a reluctant erection from Ira’s tired member, & had mounted him, facing Ulrike. The two women caressed & kissed to bring their stimulation to a boil, as they rode Ira to the point of complete exhaustion. The three of them came together, so to speak, leaving Ira, & to a lesser extent, Bettina, utterly spent.
The oversexed, still horny Ulrike left to explore the untapped forces of her assigned slave, hoping the promise of the unknown held the key to make her complete on a dreary Sunday morning. The experience left Ira unwilling to think about sex anytime soon, & he’d only been at camp for less than 1 day. Bettina, sensing this, mercifully set him to work polishing the black latex curtains & other furnishings, of which there was no shortage.
As the afternoon wore on, Ira began to tire of the repetitive climbing, use of a tall ladder, & polishing the abundant latex around his room, the adjacent alcove, & the Hall of Judgment. Bettina let him tire out considerably, until she could see sweat dripping out from between his outer helmet & the neck of his catsuit, tight though they were. She could only imagine the misery inside! When given the inevitable choice of more work or sex, he gladly reversed his decision & acquiesced to the inevitability of another round in the ring with Bettina.
This time, however, Bettina concentrated on carefully instructing Ira to improve his technique. She helped him to use his dildo while sensing the proper angle to stretch the front of her pussy, & stimulate her G-spot, coaxing him slowly up into her with teasing, twirling motions, stimulating all corners of her very ready vagina. Of course, Bettina had something to gain from the very slow deliberate motions she talked him through, & she was rewarded with a magnificent, sustained but explosive orgasm, all the while preserving the open airway Ira required. When she’d finished, she leaned over his head & cooed, “You’ve learned well, & your skills will be rewarded as well, with a viable supply of air in the process. Our little lesson will serve you well for the rest of the week. I’ll pick you up for dinner in a half hour; clean up as best you can.” She slinked out & locked the solid door to Ira’s chamber behind her.
Ira was exhausted, sore, & not overly eager for the next phase of his training. He imagined, quite rationally, however, that failure to cooperate could be painful, probably agonizing, & for all he knew, potentially fatal. So he scrubbed & polished his rubber & leather with vigor. Bettina led him out of his quarters at exactly 6 PM, & chained him to the arch as she had the day before. One by one, the seven sirens filed past his alcove & removed their respective padlocks. Mistress Mara appeared, in all her splendor, bringing the meeting to order with a crack of her whip, & a loud welcome. She made her rounds to unlock the largest, most secure padlock at the collar of the participants’ headgear with her master key, locking his collar post back onto the archway. Ira had never felt so free as when the helmet & heavy rubber liner were lifted off his head. Another sumptuous banquet meal ensued. Bettina was just as charming & casual as could be, as the process was as perfectly routine as a late night fast food pit stop in her eyes.
Mistress Mara presided over the festivities after dessert. “I hope everyone’s getting acquainted, working hard to comply with their training, & of course, enjoying every moment” she urged her guests. The time had come for the now better behaved guests to leave the known, & therefore, perceived safety of the first handler they had experienced for the unknown second dominatrix of their week. As Bettina left Ira for her next charge, & his new keeper approached, she murmured into his ear, “You’ll do fine, don’t worry; we’ve already come a long way in 24 hours, you know!” He felt like a kid being dropped off at the bus stop on the first day of school.
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