Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Institute for Complete Rubber Immersion

by Jane D'oh

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© Copyright 2020 - Jane D'oh - Used by permission

Storycodes: F+/f+; bond; latex; slave; prison; breathplay; catheter; drug; catsuit; sleepsack; gloves; hood; gag; cuffs; cons; X


"Try to get a good night's sleep, your first swimming lesson is tomorrow and it can be quite rigorous." The Warden of Sublevel 2 spoke just loudly enough for me to hear her through the two layers of rubber isolating me. I sensed her leaving and soon felt the vibration of the heavy steel door close and its large deadbolt thrust shut. I always feel a little shiver of joy/fear at that moment, even though I should be getting used to it by now.

I've been at the Institute for perhaps six or eight months I would guess. The sentence is for five years, although I can extend it through good behaviour. It took a great deal of time and effort and money to find myself here and at times I doubted whether such a place even existed. The unappeasable search continued though, year after year, almost as if it had a will of its own. Finally, through a series of odd happenstances I became aware of a Society that seemed far more promising than I dared hope. A few months passed while we came to a mutual trust of one another and I decided that this could very well be the only chance I'd ever get to fulfill my quest. Once I had my affairs in order it took only a twelve hour flight, a short commuter train ride and a twenty minute walk before I saw the unremarkable van waiting for me beside a little park. Although I knew that once I opened the back door and climbed aboard my fate was sealed, I had not the slightest hint of doubt that this was meant to be.

There was no one in the back of the vehicle and it was completely sealed off from the driver's area. A dim light in the ceiling revealed nothing but a standard two seat bench facing forward near the centre of the space. Crouching slightly I moved toward it and sat down, sliding myself to the further end. The seat belt and its shoulder strap looked perfectly mundane as I pulled them into position but I knew they were not. Just before clicking them shut around me I paused, not with any indecision but to give a silent prayer of thanks and hope. Then as I jubilantly finished the task, a thrill excitement brought me almost to the edge of taking pleasure as I secured myself in indeterminable bondage.

I found myself reliving these memories after the Warden had tucked me in for the night. Her reference to a 'swimming lesson' was so incongruous that my mind simply chose to ignore it for the time being. I must say that I have the biggest of crushes on our Warden. She is so perfect in every respect. Although I've never actually seen her face, her eyes and words have left me enslaved to her heart. I foresaw no difficulty in sleeping since my bondage was rather simple. I wore a medium thickness full rubber suit that completely covered me save three small holes at the mouth and nostrils and I was snugly encased in a heavy black rubber sleep sack, my arms helpless in its internal sleeves. Many rubber belts held me in place in the centre of my narrow padded rubber bed. Judging by the relatively fresh air I was breathing I believe our kind Warden must have left the two-way zipper of the fully encompassing bag open a small gap above my nose.

My mind drifted again to my first meeting with ICRI, as the group is called. It began in Tokyo but where it ended and even if that was in Japan I do not know. Once I had secured myself with the inexorable seat belt the light shut off and all was black. I fumbled for the release button knowing full well it was useless and once I proved that point to myself I again approached the edge of climax. Very soon thereafter I began to relax, in fact I felt my eyes close of their own accord and in a last moment of clarity realized that my consciousness was about to be taken from me, probably due to an odourless anaesthetic. The vehicle's engine quietly started and I was gone.

I had no idea how long I remained unconscious. When I came to, I was quite startled to find a young woman seated next to me, affixing a small bandage to my forearm and stowing away a needle with which I had apparently been injected. I felt fine, with no negative effects from having been knocked out. The woman was dressed casually, as though to run a few errands, and indeed had a large patterned tote on her lap. She smiled pleasantly when I looked at her; at first I took her to be Japanese but saw a hint of Korean as well, perhaps one grandparent. I could feel the movement of the van easing gently to the left at good speed as though on an expressway.

She settled back into her seat, slightly re-adjusting her presumably normal seat belt. I strangely felt no desire to ask her any questions or to even speak a word. The light was on again but didn't seem as dim, I caught a glimpse of something between my legs and started to reach for it but my companion gently stopped my arm and wagged her finger. It was a red rubber tube that snaked out from the crotch of my slacks and disappeared over the edge of the seat. Only then did I notice a slightly odd feeling in my privates. The woman opened her bag and produced a bottle of water, handing it to me. I hadn't noticed my thirst but quickly drank the full contents. Then she brought out a smartphone and after a brief manipulation showed me the screen. She moved her arm in an odd way as if waving to no one and I soon realized I was looking at a live video feed coming from the area around the light in the ceiling. She adjusted the settings further and handed it to me: I stared, enthralled at the ensuing video.

Back in my cell two floors below ground - a level I had been told did not exist in the building's official plans - I had just started to drift off, when another of the heavy steel doors slammed shut. Apparently the Warden was not in the same mood as when she locked me up for the night. I could tell it wasn't my closest neighbour's door, it seemed farther off down the hall. I hoped it was 043 that had aroused the wrath of our Keeper; I disliked and distrusted that woman since I first saw her. Although she'd never been in a position to do anything to trouble me I couldn't help but think she would, if ever given the chance. Yes, we are designated by three digit numbers: I'm 123. I felt somehow pleased when first told my new name: it seemed a fortuitous number. I faintly heard the elevator - adjacent to my cell in the opposite direction of the commotion - vibrate and rise...Warden had left us for the time being.

Above this level is the building's basement, most of which is parking spaces. Above that is a somewhat narrowed twelve storey rectangular edifice of about four thousand square feet per floor with quite high ceilings. I have never been on the ground level or the first above it for they are rented out to businesses which lend an air of normalcy and credibility to the understandably secretive ICRI. "Swimming lesson" and this building didn't fit together in my mind. I couldn't imagine a pool existing though there were large areas and even entire floors that I hadn't seen. Perhaps there was a big tank somewhere designed more for submerged bondage rather than literal swimming. That struck me as more congruent. Then again, Warden's English isn't quite as good as most of the others here, perhaps she'd meant something different. I can't place her accent, though I think it is Eastern European. English is the working language of the Institute though most of the people here have a different native tongue.

I tried again to get to sleep after the interruption, secretly hoping that 043 had been placed in less than pleasant circumstances for her overnight period. I recalled again the other-worldliness of watching myself in the video on the mobile phone screen that my fellow passenger had handed me. At first there was just a view of me with my chin sunk towards my left breast, but soon my new acquaintance appeared and in surprisingly quick fashion had unbelted me - somehow, the view was hidden behind her silhouette - and lifted my legs to spin me to a horizontal position on the bench.

She had even procured a small pillow which cushioned my head on the arm rest. Watching her pull my pants and panties down was beginning to freak me out a bit and I involuntarily reached for my groin again, only to hear the woman 'tsk' just in time to stop my insubordination. As I watched I realized that she was clearly a trained medical professional: the skill and speed with which she had me catheterized and redressed was impressive. A small slit had been made to allow the red rubber tube to pass through the slacks and she attached a matching red rubber bladder to the tubing before releasing the flow. She put the bag into my near-empty purse which I had left at my feet. Soon I was uprighted and rebelted and she was preparing the needle to awaken me. 

As she took the phone from me the enormity of control that I had voluntarily surrendered to these people began to sink in further. When would I next be anaesthetized and what world would I wake up to? Almost anything was possible and there was absolutely no way out of the situation for at least five years. That was the whole point of it: it was too late to change my mind and even if I did no amount of pleading and begging would alter anything. I was tingling all over and the mixture of fear and excitement was arousing me again. I wondered if this woman would be part of my future with ICRI or if her role was limited to just this first stage. I wondered if she liked girls...

Soon I fell into what would be a wonderful night's sleep in my comfy rubber confinement: the perfect duration, the perfect depth, the very pleasant dreams and the flawlessly timed awakening. If 043 had been suffering all the while she hadn't been stupid enough to disturb her fellow inmates with useless moans of distress; that would have only added severely to her punishments. Sub-level 2, of course, is constantly monitored and recorded, as are most of the premises. The faint sound of another cell door being opened penetrated my already dissipating dream and I knew another day at the Institute was about to begin.

A seemingly incongruous fact about this place is that there are no rules as to the inmates behaviour. We can act however we like within the system that we have joined. Naturally, the ever-present physical restraints prevent many actions but we're free to fight against them or resist having them applied. True, such conduct results in inevitable punishment, most likely quite severe, but in theory one wouldn't be breaking any rules, just acting in a way that would produce certain results. If one is locked in a lavatory in some form of moderate rubber bondage that allowed a modicum of mobility and told use the cleaning products provided to make the room shiny and spotless in an allotted time, said person is perfectly within their rights to spend the time instead by having a nap or grinding their groin against a cabinet in a fruitless attempt to gain sexual release. Of course, when their superior returns and discovers what has and has not occurred, then certain events will follow: really just cause and effect.

Sometimes we even seem to get rewarded for certain behaviour. For instance, I certainly wouldn't have had such a pleasant sleep had the zipper of the sleepsack been closed an extra inch or two by my merciful Warden. Now that I was awake I realized it would probably be quite some time before she came for me. Our Keeper had other girls to attend to as well, and knowing her, she would probably rush straight to 043 to make sure she was okay, perhaps feeling some slight guilt for leaving her all night in whatever well-deserved unpleasant circumstances she had.

My mind began to drift back to that first day in the van, buckled up beside my first of many crushes within the ICRI establishment. We seemed to be continuing along what I assumed to be an expressway, hoping in my heart that we were headed north - I hate southern climes and love winter. Before long she was reaching again into her bag, "New inmates are fairly rare and I quite enjoy the indoctrination process," her voice had a subtle sexual edge as she produced a small glass container, perhaps a third the size of a soda can, with a large red rubber teat on top. It was filled with a bright bubblegum pink substance. "Many don't care for this at first but eventually you'll come to love it, which is good because it will be your main source of nutrition for the foreseeable future," she smiled and handed it to me.

Eager to obey I took the strange thing and attempted to transfer the contents into my very empty stomach; as per instructions I hadn't had solid food in almost forty-eight hours and had thoroughly 'cleaned myself out' before leaving for the airport. I sucked vainly on the big rubber pap but nothing happened. I lifted it upside down over my head and sucked again but it didn't seem to be working. I looked over questioningly. "Suck harder!" she commanded, her tone exciting me. I gave it my all and was finally rewarded as a bit of the extremely dense contents met my tongue. Encouraged, I continued and was eventually able to get a bit of a flow going and begin swallowing. There was very little flavour, just a hint of something I couldn't quite place, mixed with the smell of the rubber nipple. It was the way it began to coat my throat and belly that was most noticeable, such a pleasant radiating warmth. All my hunger disappeared and I laboriously continued, fearing that I may have been burning as many calories in the effort as I was receiving in replacement. As the bottle finally began to empty I was more than surprised to see how clean the glass was becoming: expecting it to be coated with the viscous substance. I sucked and sucked until I think I may have transferred every single molecule of the stuff into me. The empty glass shone like it had been freshly cleaned. How could something that I hesitate to even call a liquid behave like this? I was so perplexed as I handed the bottle back to her, that I had temporarily been ignoring the effects it was having on me.

"Some of us call it the pink goo but 'the Elixir' is the proper designation," she spoke slowly and in perfect English. "Think of it as a kind of a hyper-concentrated meal replacement with some bonus additives," she said with a small laugh. I smiled with a silly grin; she seemed to be speaking in slow motion. The odd warmth extending from my tongue to my belly hadn't diminished and was massaging me from the inside. This woman was so gorgeous. My eyes drifted from her face to her moderate bosom and I pictured two big red rubber teats where her nipples were. "Suck harder," I heard her say in my mind. I was feeling very good and very frisky. "I don't know the exact formula but it has quite dramatic long and short term effects," she drawled. A warm shiver passed through me and I wondered if I should tell her that I wanted to bear her children. I pictured her hands in their surgical gloves pushing the red rubber catheter tube inside me, brushing against my privates. My eyes had narrowed and a soft prolonged groan escaped my lips. I think I felt more at home than I'd ever felt in my life.


Back in the blackness of my cell I heard our Warden unbolt my door and enter. In quick order the many rubber straps were loosed and my heavy body-bag unzipped. "Hurry along 123, we're running a bit late," and she was gone again behind the re-bolted steel door. I quickly extricated myself from the internal sleeves of the unforgiving bag and sitting up on my bed found the partially opened front seal of my all-encompassing suit and with a bit of effort was able to remove my head from the hood. Light! Not much, but enough came through the small, heavily reinforced glass window in the door to guide me to the shower area. It's in the farthest corner from the door and walled off on three sides, the third being thick glass.

I rushed across my cell's firm grey padded rubber floor which slopes downward slightly near the shower and stepped in. The large overhead rain shower faucet came on automatically at exactly the right temperature as it always manages to somehow do and I removed the rest of my sleep-suit under its luxuriating downpour. A secondary faucet attached to a gleaming hose allowed me to properly wash myself and the suit which I simply left on the floor of the stall for one of my fellow inmates to later dry and prep - one of us is always on 'cell-duty' as it is called.

I stepped out and the water flow abruptly stopped. Only a small pink hand towel is provided but it's quite adequate and soon I was more than ready to dress for the day. I've always disliked being naked, it seems so...unnatural, if I may use the word. My ultra smooth full body day-suit however seems to have been created precisely to make me feel perfect. It's made of a similar latex to that used for high quality unlined South Korean kitchen gloves. Its vibrant colour matches that of the Elixir. The suit is quite thick and a perfect fit so it takes a bit of effort to don but soon I was within the attached feet with their individual toes and pulling up the legs and shrugging into the arms and pushing into the gloves. The hood with a small open oval for my face goes on fairly easily since there is an extra bit of rubber that is pulled taut with a seal at the back once in place.

Just don't ask me how the seal works: I honestly have no idea. It's the same as the one down the front of the torso of the suit. It's not a zipper or buckle or anything conventional, in fact it doesn't even seem to exist when you examine it. One simply pulls the two sides into place and slides a finger along the edges where they meet, not unlike a sandwich bag except there are no plastic strips to lock into each other. Once closed up it won't separate again even if good force is applied. My superiors take no time or effort at all when they choose to release the mysterious seals but I've never been able to figure out how they do so, not that I bother with such silly thoughts anymore. I finished my dressing and was again trapped and completely enclosed in rubber, save for my face. I so love my suit; it must have been custom made for my exact measurements. Feeling so good to be dressed again I let my hands slide up my torso to my breasts and shuddered as I lightly brushed my sensitive nipples. The clank of the deadbolt chastened that aspiration however: Warden Sub2 had come to fetch me for my incongruous 'swimming lesson'.

Back in heaven, by which I mean the van where my initial encounter with ICRI had begun, my head swam in the glory of the pink goo for the very first time. Time had slowed and could feel free to stop altogether as far as I was concerned. Any tiny misgivings I may have had about utterly surrendering myself to near total strangers had been totally washed away by my first love and her Elixir. I had entered a different world. "I'm afraid our time is limited, my sweet," she said. Her words might have dampened my spirits but had no such effect: spoken with a palpable sincerity and affection the idea that she was enjoying my company overrode the thought that our visit might soon end. "But not to worry, we'll be seeing much more of each other in the future: I'm the Warden of Level 6, our infirmary, and head nurse of the facility, although I answer to the Doctor," she prattled on and I had no clue what she was talking about. I didn't know where I was going or what a level six was, I was just really, really happy that my new crush would be part of my future.

She procured another bottle of water from her bag and held it towards me but I shrank backwards as though a poisonous snake had been thrust towards me. Reading my mind she laughed, "Not to worry, little one, the water won't diminish the lovely radiance of the Elixir, although it will fade of its own accord in time." Trusting her implicitly I began to drink and a newfound thirst coupled with the amazing fact that it tasted a little like pink goo had me chugging it to completion. Soon I noticed that my bladder was feeling pleasantly plump and I wondered if perhaps something was wrong with my catheter. My new mind-reading friend - and hopefully future lover - reached over and pressed her left hand gently onto me, between my belly and groin, massaging and pushing lightly. Another slow quiet groan escaped my lips as her magic hand produced unaccountably wonderful effects.

My need to pee grew as the seconds passed and the sensation morphed into a very sexual desire. The diverse inputs of her hand, my bladder, the Elixir, and my deep yearning melted into one very prolonged high that I didn't want to ever end. At some point the light in the ceiling of the van dimmed markedly again. "Shoot, that's my signal dear, I'm already looking forward to our next meeting but this one is about to end, I'm afraid." I felt her grab the red rubber tube and pull it slightly to and fro, my bladder and senses were on the verge of bursting as she finally released a clamp I didn't realize existed and I began to empty myself into the red rubber repository within my rather expensive black leather handbag. It was almost orgasmic. I'd never once in my life felt quite so exquisite as I did in those long, long seconds. Warden 6 eventually stopped the flow before I was quite done and leaning over gave me the sweetest of kisses on the side of my gaping mouth. Reaching again into her bottomless bag she produced a black rubber anaesthetic mask attached to a small metallic cylinder. "Just breathe normally," she whispered and pushed the smooth padded device over my nose and mouth. I desperately wanted to prolong our tryst but I knew it was about to end. I watched her turn a valve atop the little tank and said farewell.

"Ah, good, all dressed and ready to go, you never disappoint me 123," Warden seemed in good spirits as she pushed a large wheelchair into my cell. "Climb aboard, we should have just enough time to make our appointment," her words flowing through the mouth opening of her habitual white rubber discipline helmet. I followed her instructions, luxuriating in the oh-so-comfortable embrace of the bizarre contraption. To call it simply a wheelchair is an extreme disservice to the beauty and intelligence of its design. I seem to discover a new component every time I encounter one of them. My Keeper locked the incorporated rubber-lined steel cuffs about my ankles and wrists with a delightful and stimulating metallic 'chink' and I was again helpless and at her mercy.

Her outfit today was entirely white, as usual, from the sexy rubber thigh high waders to the heavy gauge rubber apron tied tightly over her very ample latex-clad bosom. The shoulder length, heavy white rubber gloves I find particularly mesmerizing as their glossy surface reflects incoming light in a hundred distortions. Her helmet closes with seven big buckles from the back of her neck up to the crown of her head and which are locked in place with small padlocks that jingle like a xylophone at times. She - with our inmates help - always keeps everything that she wears shiny and spotless.

Warden of Sublevel 2 is a large and dominating figure, projecting a great strength that I find irresistible. She wheeled me out of my cell and into the awaiting lift. I was excited to see her press the "10" button: I had never been that close to the top of our world before. Our building has a fair-sized elevator that extends from the penthouse to the basement - and, if you're in the know, to the 'non-existent' sub-basement - which at some point was walled off from the ground floor and the one above it that are rented and have their own private lift and staircase. The odd thing that had struck my still curious mind in my initial weeks here, however - before finally realizing the superiority of ignoring such mundane trivialities - was that on every floor I had been on there seemed to be an unaccounted for space next to the elevator shaft.

I remember first noticing it when strapped to a gurney in a hallway on Level 6, the infirmary, waiting to see our busy Doctor. The thought stuck in my silly head and I saw the same odd unused space on every floor that I was given a chance to visit. Before long of course I forgot all about my 'discovery' but for some reason on that morning as Warden took me for my 'lesson' I glanced at the area and at the mysterious 'noisy room' directly adjacent its far side. When passing by its solid locked door one would always hear various sounds of a mechanical nature, as though some machines were conducting their pre-programmed routines. "Be on your very best behaviour 123," my Guide's voice interrupted my reveries as we rose through the shaft, "Warden 10 is rather a perfectionist and won't hesitate to punish you for the slightest misdemeanour." The car shunted to a stop and its door slid open upon Level 10. 

Warden 6's smile filled my vision as my consciousness was taken from me for the second time. When I began to come to it was much more gradually than I had the first time with the help of the injection. I knew I wasn't in the van any longer and could feel cool air moving against my face and my still-closed eyelids. I was sitting upright and my head was supported by something on either side. I heard a vehicle pass slowly nearby and a horn in the distance. I wasn't sure if I wanted to open my eyes: my memories of my last session with the Nurse were very vivid in my mind and I was unwilling to let them go and move on to a new reality which would be very hard pressed to match the prior one. Still, I knew I would be seeing my new love again someday and my curiosity, especially once I felt myself being moved forward, prevailed over my hesitation.

I slowly prised my eyes open, fearing to be assaulted by bright daylight and saw: blackness. A little squeak emerged from my mouth since I feared something might be wrong with my eyes. "Oh, you're amongst the living again, my new recruit, and your timing is perfect," a female voice came from above and behind me.

"Ye-es," I stammered, trying to regain my wits.

"That was your final word for today my new friend, there will be no more speaking unless directly ordered by myself," she said perfunctorily. Her words sunk in slowly because I was simultaneously rejoicing in my newfound eyesight: I could see light coming from all the extreme peripheral points of my vision, just not from anywhere straight ahead and I realized that I was wearing sunglasses that must have been altered to block all light.

"We're going on a little trip and your silence will mitigate things," her tone was fetchingly condescending as if she was trying to intentionally make me frisky. "Let me explain things to you so you'll be less likely to move your tongue and incur my wrath," she continued like a fantasy dominatrix come to life. "My name is 727 but I'm mostly referred to as 'Chauffeuse' since I do most of the driving for ICRI. You are in a parking lot of an airport, in one of their wheelchairs and we'll soon be going through the usual procedures necessary to board a plane," she recited. "Everything has been arranged and I expect no complications whatsoever," she accelerated our progress somewhat as if negotiating traffic. "All you have to do is remain silent," her tone brokered no alternative. I realized that my arms were crossed in front of me through the straps of my bag which I could feel resting heavily between my legs. Straining my eyes downward below the blackened lenses I saw a folded blanket which partially covered it. Oh my gosh, I'm still catheterized! The slight pressure in my bladder assured me that my tube was clamped shut again as well.

My Chauffeuse continued in her somewhat husky tone, the accent definitely Japanese and her English near-perfect, "After the usual routines we will be pre-boarding our flight. I will assist you from your chair into one on board that fits down the aisle and then help you again when we take our seats. After the flight we'll repeat the same procedures in the opposite order. Your job is to hold your purse and blankie, I trust you can handle that much." Her tone of voice was so deliciously patronizing that I had to remind myself of my feelings for Warden 6 before totally giving in to my new chaperone: she was really turning me on.

By the time her monologue had ended I sensed more people around us and soon thereafter realized that we had entered the terminal. The voices I heard were speaking Japanese but I understand only a very few words and phrases and trying to see anything was too much of a strain on my eyes so I just gave up and tried to relax, letting Chauffeuse take care of business. All I had to do was hold my tongue, bag, and 'blankie'. Chauffeuse's tone of voice was very different when dealing with the airline staff but I imagined her belittling me to them.

When a young woman shared a laugh with 727 I wondered if she had been told what I keep in my purse. I gradually tuned it all out. I knew I could trust ICRI to see me through this stage of the journey: they were so professional and efficient. To this day I don't know how they managed to get me an unlimited stay on a one-way ticket from my original country. Then again, maybe they didn't, I had no way of knowing if this was to be an international flight. Eventually I realized that we had boarded the plane and the transfer to its aisle chair went smoothly, despite my clinging to my bag and blanket like they were life-threads.

Shortly the second exchange was consummated and I realized with my limited senses that I was seated beside a window with 727 at my side. "Buckle up slut," she whispered knowingly. Once I had, she handed me what I eventually realized were a pair of earbuds, "Push these into your holes, nice and deep," her voice although quiet was strongly affecting me again.

Dutifully but unhappily I inserted them, not wanting to listen to music and hoping to learn something from the PA announcements and other passengers voices. White noise soon dispersed that idea, it wasn't overly loud or unpleasant but very effective: I was now all but blind and deaf. I did see some flitting shadows to my left and realized that the other passengers had begun to board. Soon enough we began to taxi and I was not a little startled when Chauffeuse reached over and took my hand in hers, squeezing me tightly. Ironic that 727 seems to be afraid of flying I thought, as the powerful thrust of the engines pushed me deeper into my seat.

I'm not sure what I was expecting to see in Warden 10 but it certainly wasn't what came forward to greet us at the elevator door. I was of the impression that the higher the floor, the higher the Warden's rank in our somewhat inscrutable hierarchy but the woman mincing towards us in perilously high platform stilettos looked far more the maid than the Mistress. The detonations sounding off the shining marble stopped and she greeted us with a pert curtsy. "Punctual as always Minus-Two," her voice was strong and confident as if coming from a different person. "Will you be picking her up later yourself?" she queried and Warden must have nodded. "Excellent, six hours will suffice for today, we'll see you then," she dismissed my escort quickly but there was no hint of rudeness, just a businesslike efficiency.

The disconnect between her appearance and her obvious power was disconcerting. My confusion did not diminish as I looked more closely. No fantasy of the perfect French Maid could have prepared me for the vision that is Warden 10. I shan't even try to describe her for any attempt would fail before it had begun. It wasn't just that she was possessed with otherworldly beauty, or that her clothes and makeup were utterly flawless: these were just trivialities that went along with being the entity that inhabited Warden 10's body. She projected an aura and presence that you might measure with a ruler and light meter. Had she randomly walked through the front door of one the major Hollywood studios she would have been set for life, with or without any training as an actor. I've had many a crush since arriving at the Institute but with this creature my little heart didn't even bother: I knew she was in a totally different league from me and resigned myself to worshipping her emotionally from afar.

On this occasion she stood directly before me and I tried my best not to drool. "Welcome 123, I've heard good things about your attitude and hope you won't disappoint me," she spoke quite rapidly without a discernible accent and looked me in the eyes. I nodded repeatedly, somehow afraid to make a peep. "We can't really do much until your dressing assistant arrives so I'll give you something to study until then," she turned and walked so pricelessly to a nearby workstation that I began to doubt reality. How could someone so powerful and domineering deport herself in such a submissive manner? Releasing my left wrist - somehow - she handed me a tablet and strutted away. I had little confidence that I would be able to concentrate with this alien in the same room but I'd been told what to do and was determined to comply. I pretended that the aphrodisiacal footsteps of the goddess were ignorable and attempted to focus on my task. 

Soon I was wader deep in the intricacies of drysuit diving: inflation valves, dump valves, glove systems, neck seals, relief zippers - huh? - and much more. There were diagrams and photos and a few videos. I found it all very intriguing especially in my current position. Warden 10 must have gone off somewhere since I hadn't seen or heard her for some time. I continued my study and was particularly fascinated by the section on rebreathers. I hadn't known such things existed. They remove the carbon dioxide one exhales and recycle the other gases allowing divers to stay underwater for much longer than with conventional air tanks. Closed circuit rebreathers, I learned, use two gasses: pure oxygen and usually nitrox, and can automatically monitor and adjust the levels of each.

I was about to dive into a section about underwater helmets when I heard an odd chime, as if from a doorbell. Warden 10's unmistakable footfalls echoed somewhere in the distance and grew louder; as she came into my view I lowered my gaze and attempted to continue my studies despite the overwhelming desire to stare at her immaculate presence. I'd completely lost my concentration however and surreptitiously watched her approach and open an almost hidden door in the far wall. "You're almost three minutes late 043," she spoke in a moderate tone that still managed to terrify me though I wasn't the target of her displeasure. "I suppose I will have to punish Warden Sub2 for not sending you along in time," the goddess said dryly.

The gagged and blindfolded pink head of 043 let out a muffled squeal and shook passionately from side to side. "Oh, so it's your fault," Warden 10's words fell like the heavy blade of a guillotine. Her prey nodded with a little less enthusiasm. She was dressed in the same bright pink day-suit as myself with the added bonus of crotch-high matching ballet boots which from experience I knew to be extremely heavy grade rubber and exceedingly difficult to manoeuvre in. It was then, peering beyond her, that I realized she had emerged from the staircase: twelve flights in her condition must have been excruciating...and how did she even manage to keep track of the floors and find the bell?

"Well you've got work to do, we'll consider your sins in the future: give me your blindfold and take our student to dressing room four," her voice betrayed little emotion. Rapidly 043 removed her pink rubber blindfold, stepped forward en pointe, and presented it. She then very quickly stilted towards me and, taking up her position behind the chair, wheeled me efficiently down the hall. 

Our Chauffeuse kept her grip on me for some time after we took off and I enjoyed the touch of her soft but firm hand. The white noise of the entrenched earbuds and the blackened lenses of my oversized sunglasses separated me from the world. My instructions to not speak finalized my position: I was deaf, dumb and blind...thousands of feet in the air, heading in an unknown direction towards and unknown destination. At some point my new friend withdrew her hand and replaced it with a chilled bottle of what turned out to be orange juice. I wasn't overly thirsty but it was very tasty and I took my time. I could already feel some pressure in my bladder and I wasn't sure if 727 had any plans to release my clamp - or for that matter if the red rubber vessel in my handbag could hold much more.

When I had finished my drink she took it from me and ignored me for quite a length of time. I was curious as to how long the flight would last but the effects of my sensory deprivation eventually got the better of me and I dozed off. I must have been asleep for quite some time because when I awoke I realized immediately my extreme need to 'go'. I squirmed in my seat and intentionally made a quiet little moan of distress that I hoped Chauffeuse would understand and not consider a breach of her instructions to not speak.

Her hand touched mine again and then proceeded under the blanket which concealed my predicament. She lingered on my inner thigh with delicate strokes and my bodily needs again became entwined with my libido. Then, just as the Nurse had done she moved on to the area below my belly and began to gently press and massage me. My two desires growing together as one, I stifled a whimper and floated in purgatory for seeming perpetuity. Slowly, finally my tormentress's hand glided downward, gently teasing my pudenda then tugging oh so softly on my intubation. It took all my will not to cry out as she toyed with me and I wasn't sure if I could control myself much longer. At long last she released me and I flowed and flowed in heavenly deliverance.

I felt a little strange as 043 wheeled me to the mysterious continuation of my 'swimming lesson' - Warden Sub2 must have meant diving lesson. Despite my misgivings about her I couldn't help but feel for 043. She had perhaps spent a less than comfortable night after displeasing our matron - although that was just my hypothesis - and then been subject to the harrowing journey up the endless stairs. Now, on top of all that she was facing future punishment from the bizarre creature that is Warden 10, simply for the crime of being a tiny bit too slow on her epic journey.

I'd always felt as if she didn't quite fit in here at the Institute, as though perchance she was here against her will. But I trusted implicitly in the morality of my guardians and knew that they would never cross such a dubious ethical line. Perhaps one day I would learn more about her story. For now I wavered in my feelings toward her as she guided me to a halt in front of yet another of the heavy locked doors that seem to define the building. This one had a keypad whose code my 'dressing assistant' was privy to and in we went. If 'dressing room four' had a nickname I guessed it the second we entered: "The Dive Shop".

It was quite a large room and the walls were filled with gear. Drysuits, at least twenty, hung from heavy hangers, a dozen tanks lined a low shelf, fins and masks hung from hooks, helmets stood in a row on a higher shelf and a wall of closed cabinets concealed who knows what else. I spotted three of what appeared to be the rebreathers I had just been reading about on a secondary shelf.

The thing that differentiated dressing room four from a typical dive shop was the proprietor's selection of stock. Everything was geared towards the ideal of perfect rubber submersion. There were no boring neoprene suits or ugly membrane suits, only vulcanized rubber drysuits. There were no simple masks or snorkels, only full-faced high quality masks with their incumbent respirators and hoses. Wetsuits were few and far between, save for a few tight fitting ones of the type worn by triathletes and which would inevitably be worn under another heavier layer. Every item seemed perfectly chosen to adhere as closely as possible to the unspoken longing for the quintessential rubber experience.

043 slowed near the centre of the room and pirouetted us back in the direction of the now-closed door. Silence. I assumed that we were to wait for the munificence that is Warden 10 and I was tempted to ask my attendant some questions about herself in the meantime. Knowing of course that she was fully gagged, probably with a phallic pink silicon device which from experience I knew to be long and thick enough to encumber airflow, I chose to refrain. I still held the tablet on my pink rubber lap with my free left hand and thought it prudent to continue my studies. I could hear 043 shifting her weight from one toe to the other on the ceramic tiles behind me like a soothing metronome.

I found my pulse quickening however as I went through the section on diving helmets. They strike such an intimidating pose. Heavy, solid, and unforgiving, the natural response would be to flee from the fear and claustrophobia they inevitably induce. They are difficult to don and doff, even with help from another and once locked in place are of course air-tight, rendering the wearer dependent on the complex mechanisms that provide life-support. When underwater, that can come from the surface via long hoses, or from self-contained underwater breathing apparatus - scuba gear. I had caught a glimpse of about four or five of them when 043 had wheeled me into the room and my desire to be sealed inside one was rapidly overcoming my fears. Regaining my concentration I was able to absorb a fair bit about the intricacies of the subject before the sound of the door unlocking interrupted my studies. The otherworldly Warden 10 had re-materialized. 

By the time 727 re-clamped me I felt both over-stimulated and unfulfilled. I fell into a state somewhere between a glorious afterglow and unquenchable nymphomania. She ignored me again for some time until the sudden clasp of her hand to mine, along with a slight sensation in my inner ears indicated that we were preparing to land. I swallowed, and holding my Chauffeuse with feeling, fancied I felt something in return. After a smooth descent our wheels met terra firma gently and we decelerated quickly to begin the taxi to the terminal. I could tell that 727 had relaxed but she gave my hand a little squeeze and continued to hold me until we had docked and the other passengers were deboarding.

Finally she released her grip and I felt her doing something with my handbag which startled me but a movement of the wires connecting my earbuds allowed me to reason that my noise source was being put into one of its pockets. Once again the exchanges from seat to chair to chair were uneventful - unless you include my surprise and fear at the weight of my carry-on - and we were gliding through the terminal. Stopping at some point I felt my newest friend quickly removing the blanket from my lap and covering me up with it from the neck to toe. We continued and soon quite chilly air surrounded us.

I could tell from my limited vision that it was night. It was October when I arrived in Tokyo but quite mild and I began to feel that my hope of heading north rather than south had come true...of course it could have just been a change in weather or elevation. Chauffeuse accelerated and in a few minutes steered me to a stop in what I presumed was a parking lot. She removed my blanket and earbuds as a slight gust of wind chilled me. "We're almost home my dear and I think you'll enjoy the last stage of our trip," she said. "Help me get you inside the jagmobile and we'll soon be on our way."

A somewhat awkward transfer ensued as she guided me up and into the car and its cold but extraordinarily comfortable seat. I shivered as she buckled me up and slid my heavy bag up between my legs then covered my lap and legs with my blankie. "I'm going to return the wheelchair and fetch myself a snack, perhaps some Cheetos," she giggled for some reason. I shivered again from the cold and began to dread the wait for her return. "Not to worry my sweet, I have just the thing to warm you up," and she pressed a small glass receptacle into my left hand. "Don't run away now," she said as if enjoying the irony. The door shut and a little beep locked me in with my Elixir.

I hadn't known for certain if our Chauffeuse had handed me a precious vial of pink goo but the feel of the thing in my hand and her words had led me to believe so. Approximately twenty nanoseconds after she had secured me in my new prison I hastened to find out for sure. Raising it to my eager lips I was more than elated to find the big rubber nipple that I longed for. The Elixir proved just as difficult to syphon as the last time but my training and desire prevailed and soon the lovely radiating warmth was spreading from tongue to throat to belly. I sucked hard and heard Nurse's commanding words repeat again in my mind. I sucked harder and dreamed of 727 urging me on with belittling remarks. I sucked hardest and knew that I had at long last found a safe and cozy home in this big harsh world.

Continues in


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