Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Jillian's Mouse Trap 2.4: Finding Reason

by RbrBill

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© Copyright 2009 - RbrBill - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; M/f; D/s; latex; leather; bond; vacbed; electro; conditioning; public; cons X

continued from chapter 2.3

Chapter 4: Finding Reason

Jillian was in rapture! 

The pulsing thing in her pussy ravaged her core as the electrical stimulation pulsed through her clit and nipples.  The tight suction of the bed totally locked her in its merciless embrace and forced her to endure the massive eruptions driving her body response to frenzy.  The chains at least gave some give as she pulled at them and she would shake and vibrate in the suspension.  The bed was something else again.  There was no forgiveness, no allowance for movement; she could only push against the constant press of the unyielding latex and curse her foolishness to not cover her plans better.

Then the next moment she was gleefully lusting for the exquisite torture being applied and silently begging it to never end!  Her madness was complete by now.  Any return to anything other than total rubber servitude and dependence was long since quashed.  She wanted to shout this revelation to the world!  She wanted to shout it to Ambrose who she occasionally saw as a fuzzy fog of multiple images when ever he visited her room.  His visits were frequent.

The system did allow for rest.  It would pretty much completely shut down once a day, more or less, for eight hours.  It actually ran a cycle of twenty hours on and eight off.  This odd cycle also completely destroyed any hope of knowing anything about the time of day, something irrelevant to her situation anyway.  The cycles were varied as well.  Sometimes they were ripping hard masochistic pulses and torments that culminated in the raging orgasmic eruptions that would tear any lesser vacuum sheet to shreds.  Other times they were slowly building fantasy sequences accompanied by mood music and sounds of waves washing the shore of all things.  She came to lust for the rippers but love the slow builders.  The slow ones swept over her body with a soft warm glow that left a deep satisfying feeling in her rubberized soul.  They usually meant a rest cycle soon afterward.

Ambrose moved to the Paulsen House after a few days.  He brought all of his necessities up from the main house and closed it up.  He was alone and his shrine was in the Paulsen House so why stay in the large rambling place?  He made frequent, often multiple visits a day, to the room.  He sometimes spent entire days sitting in quiet contemplation as he watched his Rubber Fly cycle through the computer generated paces of torture/pleasure/torment/rapture.

The images were incredible as the rubber suspended being vibrated the thick rubber fabric of the bed.  He envied her plight.  She was completely removed from any responsibility, problems or troubles.  He believed she was completely engrossed and at peace and harmony with her erotic plight.  He didn’t even envision madness as a by product of her rubber imprisonment.  His fantasies slowly centered on finding his own final solution to rubber surrender.

He would spend hours on the computer checking out rubber mistress sites, blogs and chat rooms to determine who was authentic and who was faux.  He found many mistresses who were authentic but were not interested in taking on responsibility for a full-time servant.  He never revealed his wealth to them since he knew that would be a major influence.  He hoped to find one who was interested because of the intensity of his rubber desires.  He would then let her know that she had found the jackpot in wealth.  He hoped that some rich European fetish goddess would ask him to be her servant/rubber slave.  The opportunities were slim.  In the meantime, he would surf between these research sites and the various fantasy rubber sites while watching Jillian shakes and throb under the systemic attacks of the computer.  He usually exploded two or three times each session and would exhausted and spent go to bed to flush his suit and sleep. 

He became even more reclusive and remained completely sealed in rubber layers for days at a time.  The days stretched to weeks at a time and his worship of the sealed Rubber Fly took on even more insalubrious direction.  He would frequently rub against the bed and wrap his arms around its edges.  He would kneel at its base and kiss/lick the ballet boots under the rubber sheet.  He worshipped the rubber sealed and suspended image with reverence beyond any sanity.

“Dear Rubber24/7-slut,” the e-mail began.

“This is in response to your request for my services for a period of one week.  Your request is granted.”

“We will arrive in Washington State in three days to assess your devotion to a total rubber enclosure session lasting more than 24 hours.  A detailed interview must be completed in order to determine your ability to handle such an intense session.  Please have current physical record available for my personal nurse to review at the time of our interview.  Please provide appropriate meeting location for conducting the interview.  We would prefer a location properly equipped to conduct a full interview to include serious discussion and demonstration of your devotion to rubber life.”

“Please arrange a service to meet us at SeaTac Airport to take us to the interview location.  I will arrive from London on BA Flight 49 on February 22.  I will call you when I clear Customs.  Please provide a contact number of the meeting party.”

“Financial arrangements will be completed during this meeting.  You will be charged for the services at my going rate for extended sessions with medical supervision and I will provide you the travel charges for my services at that time.  I look forward to discussing your potential for this full rubber experience.

Mistress Alicia Stanwood-Brown”

Well.  Ambrose knew the name by reputation.  Mistress Alicia was a top latex centric dominatrix in the world.  He determined to pick her up in person.  He would be dressed in his current outfit without hood and respirator mask.  He would have those in the car.

He checked over his heavy rubber suit and found no problem in his plan.  He would cinch a SBR raincoat over the clothing to partially conceal the outer wader suit.

The trip to the port was uneventful.  He stayed in the car the whole time.  He reached the port at 11:00.  He parked at the cell-phone waiting lot near the main terminal and waited.

Mistress Alicia planned her meeting with this new pathetic rubber gimp as carefully as any military tactician.  She always marveled at how predictable these petty and worthless men frequently were.  This one seemed to have all of the usual fantasies of total rubber life, being the slave and servant to some strong and powerful rubber dominant.  Reality usually didn’t match the fantasy.  But…

Her research had been thorough.  She had her technical assistant trace the URL addresses and the user ID.  The techie had identified the computer linked through a mainframe at the Allied Software Development Corporation, Ltd.  The owner of the company was a high roller in the local tech world.  He had major Internet holdings in Europe as well as the software security company.  He was also a pretty heavily involved rubber freak.  Ambrose Stevenson was originally from England.  He moved to the US in 1997 after buying the small and somewhat unproductive software company.  He contracted with Gates to develop security interfaces for some of the first versions of Windows.  His talent blossomed quickly.  His security systems became well-known throughout the computer world.  One of the company’s trace programs was used by the techie to find the face behind the username.

This guy was loaded.  She was pretty well off in her own but her tastes were expensive.  Having this fellow under her power would mean she would have no more worries of her future.  He was also pretty heavy into his hobby based on reports from the investigators she hired to check him out.

She read the report again as the plane winged over the Arctic region.

Ambrose Stevenson is seldom seen in public.  He lives on a private island in the San Juan Island region of Washington State.  The San Juan Islands are a group of islands located just north of the Puget Sound and east of the Straits of Juan de Fuca.  The primary island of the group is San Juan Island.  The town of Friday Harbor is on San Juan Island and serves as the county seat of San Juan County.  Secondary major islands are Orcas, Shaw and Lopez.  There are numerous smaller islands. In the island group situated between Washington State and Vancouver Island.  The International border of Canada and the United States passes through the group.  The islands are noted for…She skipped the rest of the National Geographic background and got to the highlighted sections.

“Historically reclusive, Stevenson dropped almost completely out of the public eye in October last year.  Prior to that time he was most recently seen at a few public events relating to either his hobby or his work.  He was in the companion of a woman who shared his penchant for latex clothing.  The couple was almost exclusively attired in tight latex on these occasions.”

“Interviews with of the island locals indicate the couple frequently and very publically showed their fetish for total enclosure in rubber outfits.  They usually were seen on local beaches in complete coverage.  The occasional trips to town were usually attired in dive gear that helped disguise the true nature of their clothing.  The locals knew all about them and were very forthcoming with their opinions of the weird couple from the private island.  They always pointed out toward the southwest when talking of “That Island”.  A reconnaissance of Spieden Island was easy enough.” 

“The island has two main structures on it along with some out buildings.  The main house appears to be vacant.  The yard is loosely maintained.  The windows were dark and doors locked.  The other house seems to be occupied.  The subject was seen moving in the house on several occasions.  He appeared to be wearing some sort of head gear.  It could have been a respirator mask of some sort.  The two times he left the house he was fully enclosed in what appeared to be heavy dive gear.  When he left the island for his mail check I took the opportunity to check out the house. ”

“The house is full of rubber and latex clothing.  The closets had only two conventional suits.  There is no conventional underclothing suggesting the subject wears latex exclusively as his underclothing.  He has three pairs of jeans, a couple of Pendleton shirts and two crew neck sweater.  This is the extent of his conventional wardrobe.  There is much female latex gear and no signs of conventional woman’s clothing.”

Alicia licked her lips in anticipation of using her most professional guiles to seduce and capture this slut who so obviously needed direction.

“The most surprising discovery was in the basement of the house.  I found a woman sealed inside a heavy latex vacuum bed.  I do not know how long she had been in the device.  She was in a very severe rubber suit and had attachments suggesting her bodily needs were being satisfied by mechanical equipment.  She appeared to be resting comfortably when I found her.”

“I made two visits inside the house.  The first visit being just a basic casing of the place; I devoted my second visit to capturing computer files and searching for any documents relating to the subject’s life or business.  During this second visit the rubber woman was being sexually tortured inside the latex bed.  Again I don’t know if she is in the device permanently or she is only placed in it whenever the subject leaves the house.  I watched as she was driven to an obviously erotic and exceptional orgasmic experience.  The bed shook violently at its frame from the intensity of her body response to the final release.”

Alicia smiled at this very factual statement of an event that must have surely aroused her investigator.  The rest of the report was actually pretty dull unless you were an accountant.  Alicia had passed that part to her CPA and solicitor to analyze.

“Particulars of the subject’s affairs are itemized in the enclosure.”

The report concluded.  Alicia had studied the private and public affairs of Mr. Ambrose Stevenson enough to know she was fishing for a whale.  She also knew he would be easy to capture.  The issue was to tie up all of the loose ends associated with her plan.  This part was a significant part of her planning as this guy wasn’t any ordinary fellow who could disappear with minimal complications.
Three hours later she called the number provided and was rewarded with a quick answer.

“I’ll be there in five minutes, Madame.  I’ll be curbside in the arrivals level.”

“And how do I know you?” She asked sarcastically.

“I’m in a shiny and clean black shiny Mercedes.  It’ll be the only clean one today because of the weather.”

“How did you keep it clean?” She was curious.

“I polished it while waiting for you at the lot.”

“I see.  And you had no problem in this weather?”

“No Madame.  I’m well protected from the rain.”

Mistress Alicia realized the fellow came down personally to get her. 

True to his work, a shiny clean black Mercedes pulled to the curb at the British Air baggage area.  The tall fellow in the SBR rain coat was good.  If he wore a hood and gas mask, he’d have been perfect.

He came to the curb and helped the Red Cap load the luggage.  The luggage was massive.  Mistress tipped the Cap for his help and waited for the gimp to open the door for her and her nurse.  He trotted to her door and opened it.  She climbed into the back seat.  The nurse took the front seat.

Ambrose watched the nurse closely.  She was dressed in white and red latex.  Her red cape contrasted nicely with her white latex nurse uniform.  The red cross on her cap was oversize for theatric effect.  Mistress was wore a long leather coat that draped around her calves.  The waist was cinched tightly.  Shiny legs in severe heels peaked from below the skirt of the coat.  Ambrose assumed that Mistress was wearing latex as well.

The drive to Anacortes was uneventful.  Before they left the terminal area, Mistress caught sight of the hood and respirator on the seat between Nurse and Gimp. 

“Put those on, if you please,” she said flatly.

“Yes Madame.”

“I didn’t ask you a question requiring a response.  Just put them on… now.”

Ambrose quietly pulled the hood over his head.  Nurse helped tuck it into his collars and his inner suit.  She tightened the straps of his mask after pulling it in place.  His driving was difficult in the mask but he’d practiced driving masked many times. At the ferry, Ambrose moved to pull the things off.

“Don’t,” said Mistress.

The State ferry worker knew the car.  He thought a second to do a full search as the driver was hidden behind his mask, something that weirdo from the Island never did.  But the strikingly beautiful woman in ebony said she knew him and vouched for him.  The other passenger was in shiny rubber like the weirdo.  He decided to leave it alone and waved them into the parking lane.

When they finally got to Spieden Island, she commented that this place was closer to the end of the world than the Orkney Islands.  The weather was similar too.  A blustery west wind blew in from the Pacific and rain squalls were marching along on its power.

Gimp Boy went up the dirt path and soon returned with a little green tractor and trailer.  Nurse and Gimp loaded the luggage.  Gimp drove, Mistress hung onto the side seat and Nurse rode on top of the luggage.  The trio was quite a sight bumping along to the Paulsen House.

“We’ll leave the bags in the hall,” Mistress said.  “Nurse can unload the necessities after a short break.”

Mistress removed her coat and revealed more leather under.  She wore a severe leather business suit.  Still shiny boots rose under the skirts of this suit.

Ambrose showed slight surprise as he expected rubber.

“Don’t gawk Gimp,” Mistress rebuked.  “I only wear latex close to my skin and when I’m working.”

“You can speak for now, Mr. Stevenson.  We will have a friendly chat and determine what exactly you want me to do, what you expect to achieve during your session and what our starting point is for your training.”

“Nurse Middleton is a licensed physician’s assistant.  She will review your medical records while we chat.  She can join us later.”

Mistress addressed Middleton, “His records were on the table as we came into the house.  Please get on with your screening.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m surprised at your lack of manners, Mr. Stevenson.  You’ve been in the colonies too long.  May we have some tea?”

“Of course,” Stevenson said through the voicemitter of the mask.

“During the interview, you can take the mask and hood off, Mr. Stevenson.”

Tea, interview and tour of the house took three hours.

The two were sitting in the dark living room again.

“Did you show me the entire house?  I seemed to think that you had a dungeon of some sort.”

“I do.  I planned to show it tomorrow.”

“Now.  You will show me now.  Consider this the beginning of the session if you like.”

Ambrose couldn’t respond to the order after that statement.  He led Mistress to the room.  There was no time to move Jillian.

Mistress took in the room with a practiced eye.  She scanned right past the trapped girl with no change of expression.  She saw the heavy bondage suit the girl was sealed in.

“Is that suit similar to the one you desire to be sealed?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Mistress went close to the suspended object and studied the details.  She acted as though a sealed-in-rubber person was something you saw every day. 

“This suit is quite well made,” she observed appreciatively.  “How long has this been in that bed?”

“About five months.”

“Really?  And no ill effects physically?”

“No ma’am.

“Mentally?” Alicia asked.

“I honestly don’t know.”

“I know.  She is completely and dementedly reliant on her rubber prison and rubber stimulation.  I doubt she will be of use for anything ever.  You think you have such power to do that to someone?”

“She planned to do it to me.”

“Really.  That’s interesting.  Why?”

“She is my ex-wife and she wanted all of my money.  It’s a long story.”

“We have time.”

Two hours later, Ambrose finished the story.  Mistress had let him talk continuously. 

“I think we need to rest,” Mistress announced.  “Please show me my rooms and we’ll meet again over breakfast to detail your week of rubber.”

Ambrose showed Mistress and Nurse to their rooms.

Mistress Alicia sat up for an extra hour despite her exhaustion from the long trip.  Nurse Middleton joined her over a late drink.

“Maybe she deserved her fate but I still have a problem with the fellow thinking that he can play ‘god’ in such a way,” Mistress commented.

“Yes ma’am.  The girl is quite the low life.  But this guy took her once and knew what she was, tricked her using her greed for bait, put her through extensive and very extreme bondage punishment using rubber, and released her to make her his rubber love companion.  Through all of that she changed but she still went after his money and her security,” Nurse summarized the dilemma.  Both of the subjects of the discussion were flawed and deserving severe punishment for their actions.

“She changed all right.  She wanted to step up to the next level from servitude to domination.  Yet she really didn’t have the mental edge for that step.  Now she will never have it.  I might be able to make a descent rubber slut out of her but I don’t know,” Mistress said as she sipped her drink.

Mistress was resigned to having to care for the girl for the rest of her life.  She hoped the girl would be useful in some capacity if or when she was removed from that bed.  As for the gimp, what should his fate be?

“His medical records are good?” She asked.

“Yes Ma’am.  He is in perfect health.  He can handle any stress you might want to apply.”

“Well he wants to experience the bondage he put the ex through so we will start with that… tomorrow.”



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