Part 16
Vanity
The pulse of Abyss pulsed through the air, the club thick with fog and anticipation. The scent of latex, faint perfume, and electricity hovered like a veil over the main stage, where Evelyn stood elevated before a riveted crowd. On either side of her stood the evening's rivals: Astrid, statuesque and proud in a tailored latex ensemble in storm-gray, her shoulders sharp and her corset tightly laced; and Teodora, her curves gleaming beneath a liquid metal latex catsuit that shimmered with the stage lights.
What had begun as a trivial argument in one of the club's side lounges had escalated quickly into performance-worthy tension.
"It’s not just about looking good in rubber," Astrid had declared hours earlier, her tone edged with superiority. "It’s about commanding it. Wearing it doesn't mean you're one of us. It’s style, not sweat, that reigns."
Teodora had laughed, slow and dismissive. "Then put your money where your fashion is, darling. Let’s see what happens when we test who really lives and breathes latex."
Now, under Evelyn's gaze and the attention of every masked guest and attendant, the challenge had crystallized into something more formal - and far more serious.
"Evelyn," Astrid began, her voice tight with frustration, "you have to settle this for us. Everyone knows Abyss isn’t just about the dance, it’s about the style. We need to know who’s truly the best-dressed for a latex club."
Teodora smirked, crossing her arms. "She thinks sequins are the epitome of elegance. Let’s settle this on stage and let everyone see who has the upper hand."
Evelyn’s gaze flicked between the two women, her expression unreadable. But the subtle curl of her lips betrayed her amusement. A duel born of pride and vanity - perfect material for the stage.
Evelyn’s voice rang clear and measured. "Tonight, a duel of aesthetics becomes a trial of endurance. These two beauties wish to determine who truly embodies the essence of Abyssian fashion. But latex is not simply worn. It is endured."
She turned to both women, her eyes glinting with dark mirth. "Very well, a duel it is. But what shall the stakes be?"
Astrid hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Teodora. "We’d rather not have the stakes involve pain," she said, clearly measuring each word. "Something fitting for the occasion but not… cruel."
Teodora nodded in agreement. "Something that challenges fashion, endurance, and commitment. We’ll let you decide."
Evelyn’s smile widened. "Ah, endurance and elegance - very well. A fitting punishment for a challenge born of vanity. I have just the thing."
She gestured, and two attendants emerged from the shadows, wheeling forward two sleek black harness chairs and a custom-built breathing apparatus that immediately drew murmurs from the crowd. Resting beside them were two full-body latex suits, complete with fitted hoods and integrated boots and gloves, and two glossy black gas masks. Between the chairs hung a 2-liter rubber rebreather bag, its surface slightly glistening, connected to each gas mask via a T-section of tubing. At the bottom of the bag, a narrow air valve allowed only a small exchange of fresh air - just enough to sustain one.
"You will each be sealed in latex," Evelyn explained, voice like silk on steel. "Your masks will connect through this shared breathing bag. Each time one of you exhales, the bag inflates. Each time you inhale, it deflates. But there is only so much oxygen to share - and only one who will breathe easy. The strategy is yours to shape: inhale when she exhales; empty your lungs to flood her mask with stale air. If you’re clever, she’ll suffocate herself while you remain in control."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over them.
"You may press your panic button if the air hunger overwhelms you. Or you may faint. Either marks the end. The first to fail will lose."
Another gesture revealed the punishment.
"As for the loser," she continued, "there will be no needle frame tonight. You wanted to pain. We honor this request. In the spirit of Abyss where we adore latex, the stakes shall involve a test of rubber enclosure. Instead of pain, our loser will endure a week-long trial: wearing an outfit our artisans have designed, crafted to challenge the body and mind. It is the thick full-body Rubber Suit of Resolve, designed to trap heat and induce sweat. For one hundred hours within seven days, the loser must wear this suit. It can be taken off, washed as often as you please. Inside Abyss and on her way there, a fitted hood is mandatory. But you must log the hours. A sensor will ensure the data is accurate. The LED at the collar will turn from red to green when the 100 hours are served."
"Endurance and commitment, you asked for. Endurance for a week. Deeply committing to the fetish of latex. We shall see if you enjoy the shiny fashion for vanity or if you master the material itself."
"And if," Evelyn added, her smile darkening, "the loser fails to meet the time requirement, she will be escorted back here to complete her penance in the Needle Frame instead. So consider your resolve carefully before you proceed."
Astrid and Teodora exchanged another glance - uncertain, wary, but resolute.
"I accept, but does she have enough faith in dealing with latex?" Astrid said, her voice controlled.
Teodora gave a smirk of practiced confidence. "Let’s see who’s more than a mannequin."
Attendants began dressing them. The suits weren’t cut for glamour - they were made for control, for pressure, for heat. Zippers closed over curves, the latex stretching tight over hips and shoulders until both women looked nearly identical in their gleaming second skins. Hoods were pulled on with slow precision, the zippers drawn to their collars and locked.
Then came the masks. Buckled down across cheekbones, cinched under chins. The T-section hoses connected. The breathing bag was hung precisely between them, just out of reach. Panic buttons gleamed red at their sides.
Evelyn raised her hand.
"Begin."
At first, the rhythm between them was unspoken but mutual - controlled breathing, easy exhales, each watching the bag slowly inflate and gently deflate. The audience leaned forward, the tension mounting with every measured puff of air.
But strategy soon took hold.
Teodora began manipulating the cycle, exhaling quickly, inflating the bag, then pausing - allowing Astrid only moments before she too inhaled and left nothing behind. Astrid caught on fast, countering with long exhalations meant to leave the bag full of warm humid air coming out of her lungs when Teodora was least expecting it - forcing her to inhale nothing but stale remnants.
Their masks fogged. Sweat pooled beneath their suits. Their postures stiffened.
Astrid tried to steady her nerves. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, but she knew the value of control. She could feel the heat crawling up her spine, the latex closing in, trapping every breath. Her jaw clenched as she sucked air from the sagging bag, forcing her lungs to draw more slowly, hoping to time it just right.
Teodora leaned in slightly, as if proximity would grant her dominance over the shared resource. Her chest heaved, and her strategy shifted - long exhales to fill the bag, hoping Astrid would draw too soon. Then, at the right moment, she would take her turn, catching the last trickle of freshness from the bag's narrow valve.
But it became more than strategy. It became survival.
Astrid’s lungs ached. The bag hung limp. She exhaled sharply, deliberately, hoping to bait Teodora into inhaling the stale air. Teodora did - and coughed. Her head jerked back, eyes wide behind the lenses.
They were both drenched now. The suits gleamed under the lights, misted from within. Every muscle ached.
Teodora tried a deep exhale to catch a last moment of clarity. But she had made a misstep - her lungs were already full. She couldn’t exhale fast into the fully inflated bag. Her slow labored exhale forced stale air out of her the valve. Astrid breathed in, stale air flooding her mask. The bag was flat. Astrid didn’t wait there. She emptied her lungs fully, slowly. The bag swelled, thick and dark. Teodora reached - too late. The bag collapsed again, as Astrid quickly drew the air back into her lungs, now mixed with a bit of fresh oxygen. Theodora’s inhale labored against the empty bag, drawing in a trickle of new fresh air. Her lungs hurt, the air not coming in nearly at the desired, the necessary speed. She tried again, slower this time. The bag hissed, faintly. A breath. But not enough.
Her vision blurred. She blinked furiously, head rocking slightly. Astrid narrowed her eyes, breath shallow and sharp. She’d found the rhythm now, and she controlled the bag like a siphon.
Teodora’s fingers twitched near her button - but her hand dropped. She was not ready to give in. Her shoulders sagged.
And then, her body slumped fully into the chair, head tilting forward. Attendants moved instantly. The hose was disconnected, her mask lifted. She was breathing, but unconscious.
Evelyn stepped into the silence, voice crisp.
"Teodora has succumbed. Astrid remains."
The crowd broke into applause, the thick silence finally giving way.
"The Rubber Suit of Resolve awaits. One hundred hours. Or more, should she crave penance."
Teodora stirred, consciousness returning as the attendants unbuckled her, her limbs sluggish under the weight of the suit. Astrid sat motionless as her own mask was lifted, gasping softly, blinking sweat from her lashes. Tonight, it had been a duel not of needles or spikes - but of breath.
And it was breath that had chosen the victor.
Evelyn stepped forward, her presence commanding. "An extraordinary performance," she announced, her voice carrying over the cheers. "But there can only be one winner."
She turned to Teodora. "Congratulations. You are crowned Abyss’ reigning queen of fashion."
Astrid’s shoulders slumped, her disappointment evident. Teodora bowed slightly, her smirk triumphant.
Evelyn’s attention shifted to Astrid. "And now, for your penance."
An attendant stepped forward, holding the Rubber Suit of Resolve. "You shall not be a queen of fashion but an embodiment of rubber enclosure, and this dull heavy suit to hide and contain you." The black rubber material gleamed under the lights, its tight-fitting design leaving no doubt about the discomfort it promised. Socks and gloves were attached. The hood was sleek and smooth, with openings for eyes, nose and mouth, but no escape from the heat it would trap.
"This suit," Evelyn explained, "will be your companion for the next seven days. One hundred hours. Fail to meet this requirement, and you will find yourself back here, facing a far less forgiving punishment."
Astrid hesitated but took the suit, her jaw set with reluctant determination.
The attendants led her behind the curtain, and twenty minutes later Astrid emerged, fully rubberized, her dress confiscated until after she had served her time. She was to make her way home, and later, return to Abyss, dressed as she is now. Already, she started sweating with the spotlights directed at her, her blue eyes visible sunken into a sea of heavy black latex.
From the moment Astrid first slipped into the rubber suit, she knew the week ahead would test her in ways she hadn’t imagined. The snug, glossy material clung to her body, sealing her in an oppressive, heat-trapping embrace. Every inch of the suit - from the fitted hood to the gloves and boot-like extensions - was designed to be unrelenting. As the zipper slid up the back and locked in place, Astrid felt an immediate shift. The air around her became heavy, and the first bead of sweat formed before she had even taken her first step.
As Astrid left the stage, she vowed never to challenge Abyss again. Teodora, meanwhile, reveled in her victory - but even she knew that her reign would not go unchallenged for long. Abyss thrived on competition, and vanity was a flame that burned eternal.
In the audience, Elise took note. This suit. That was it. To bring that waitress under her personal rubberization rules, if she ever dared to even speak to her again. She would need to talk to Evelyn.
The rubber’s inner surface quickly grew slick as sweat began to gather, coating her skin in a clammy sheen. Movement became both sticky and slippery, the suit shifting uncomfortably with each step. The combination of friction and the rubber’s resistance made even small tasks an ordeal.
The lights of Abyss flickered low that night, casting sultry shadows across velvet-covered alcoves and polished obsidian floors. The crowd had dispersed after the duel and Astrid left the club, dressed in her oppressive suit. Guests were now flocking again to the dance floor and filling the lounges. Patrons moved like silhouettes in a dream - some adorned in gleaming latex, others wrapped in restraint or secrecy. Among them, Elise, sat, her mere presence exuded confidence, lounged as she always did: poised, coiled like a panther atop her favorite crescent-shaped chaise in the lounge of Abyss.
Beside her, Alexandru stood with a drink in hand, dressed in his usual dark elegance. They were close, the kind of Abyss-friends who shared long, quiet moments, occasional dances, and the smug understanding that came with their elevated status. Elise never needed to try hard - men gravitated to her, and Alexandru was no exception. His eyes lingered when she crossed her legs, and she offered him sidelong glances like they were currency.
Until Nadia.
Elise had never really noticed her before. A background figure. Another retail-class submissive, dressed in budget latex and often alone. No edge, no style. Certainly no threat. A face in the crowd with no bearing on the world Elise navigated so carefully and successfully.
Nadia, a brunette in her late 20s, more shy, on the insecure side, had entered Abyss months before, low-profile, always in the periphery. She danced in the weekly heels once - a full song before collapsing, collecting the usual token monetary prize. Elise barely noticed. Alexandru hadn’t.
It wasn’t until Alexandru, wandering outside the curated chaos of Abyss, ran into Nadia in a boutique downtown that she entered Elise’s sphere of notice. Nadia was behind the counter, helping a customer with a return, calm and capable. Alexandru came in looking for a replacement cufflink. Their eyes met - two members of the same shadow world colliding in daylight.
"You’re… in Abyss, right?" he asked as she finished ringing up a customer.
Nadia nodded, warily. "Yes. I go there."
"You danced in the Heels, didn’t you? Last month."
"I only lasted five minutes."
"I remembered," he said, smiling warmly. "That’s still brave. They looked brutal."
It started there. Casual talk. He returned the next day to browse, then again two days later. A week passed, and he invited her to coffee. It surprised them both when the conversation stretched into the evening. He was used to polish and practiced lines. Nadia was direct, sincere. He found it refreshing. She found it terrifying but thrilling. Abyss hadn’t prepared her for this kind of attention.
In time, they met a few more times. Casual, unspoken attraction growing between them. But it was unconfirmed, unclaimed. Elise remained a presence in Alexandru’s world. He still spent time with her in Abyss - still hovered near her during events, laughing at her sharp comments, indulging her moods. After all, they were in the same industry.
It came to an event two weeks later.
That night, Elise reclined in her usual seat. Alexandru stood beside her, drink in hand, the club buzzing around them. Nadia entered, dressed plainly - her latex modest, functional. She spotted Alexandru across the room. Their eyes met. He offered a smile, small but real.
She approached.
"Well," Elise said before Nadia had spoken, her voice gliding across the table like ice. "Did someone get lost?"
Nadia blinked. "I saw Alexandru. Thought I’d say hi."
Elise set down her glass. "Charming. Are we taking customers now, darling?"
Alexandru looked slightly caught. "Hey, Nadia. This is - "
"I know who she is," Nadia said. Her jaw was tight.
Elise’s tone dipped into sarcasm. "We’ve met. You’re in retail, right?"
Nadia nodded, calm but cold. "Still am."
"How industrious," Elise said, eyes flicking down her figure. "You must be very… efficient. Selling things. Smiling for strangers. It must be exhausting pretending to care."
"I care when I mean it," Nadia shot back. "That’s probably why I’m not pretending with Alexandru."
"Oh, sweet," Elise replied, tone turning syrupy. "You think this is about feelings. That’s adorable. Do you also dream of riding off into the sunset on a sales commission?"
"I’m not looking for a sponsor."
"No? But you act like you want to be saved. It's very on-brand." Elise gave a thin smile. "Or maybe you just want him as your ticket up. Can’t blame you. I mean, look at him. Clean, successful. Someone who actually owns tailored clothes."
Nadia turned to Alexandru. "Didn’t know you liked being a trophy."
Elise cut in, the words sharp. "That’s rich coming from someone trying to turn him into a sugar daddy."
That stung. Deep. Because it wasn’t true. Nadia actually liked him. Not for his looks or his wallet. For his curiosity. His gentleness. His attention.
"You don’t want him," Nadia said quietly, "you want to win him."
Elise’s smile dropped just a fraction.
"Excuse me?"
"You want him because we spend time together. You want him because he showed an interest in me. Because you think someone like me shouldn’t even be seen beside someone like you. Let alone share affection."
The nearby patrons paused. A conversation had become something else now. Tension drawn tight as a whipcord.
Elise lowered her voice, her expression fierce. "You want to play in this arena, little salesgirl? Then know what you’re risking. Abyss doesn’t protect feelings. It magnifies everything. It burns the weak. Just like I burned Claudia. You have seen the quiz show?"
Nadia’s chin lifted. "I saw." She remembered, it was one of the more excessive bondage displays. Elise was clearly able and willing to deal out punishment.
"Then you know what can happen to those who annoy me."
"I just want the truth. Let him choose. If you’re not scared."
Elise arched a brow, but her tone darkened. "You don’t get to speak of choice. You sell suits and shoes. I manage portfolios and accounts. I curate power. Here, people like you should be hooded in rubber, silent and decorative. That's your station."
The words struck hard. Alexandru winced.
Nadia’s response was quieter. Firmer. "I might be working class, but I don't hide behind glitter and cruelty."
Elise stood slowly, her black satin catching the red and gold lights of the ceiling. "You think that because you caught his eye for five minutes that you belong at this table? With me?"
"I think that because I see him as a person. Not a prize."
Another silence. And then Elise, her eyes like daggers, leaned in close.
"You want him? Then come get him. If you think Abyss will side with your good intentions over my presence, you’re in for a rude awakening."
She turned, stormed off. But her mind was already spinning, consumed with insult. With rage. With disbelief that someone beneath her station had dared to enter her sphere, let alone claim parity.
Nadia stood in the light, throat tight. She didn’t chase after. She simply stood her ground.
Alexandru hesitated, then looked to Nadia. "That… got intense fast. Are you okay?"
Nadia nodded, though her voice was tight. "I didn’t come here to fight. I just wanted to say hi."
He gave a faint smile. "Well, you certainly made an impression."
That night ended without a challenge. But not without damage. Elise would never forget the look in Nadia’s eyes. And Nadia would never forget the first time she truly saw how fragile Elise’s pride was.