Part 36
Rubber
By now, almost two years had passed since Nadia’s humiliating defeat at the hands of Elise and her partner Alexandru, yet the chastity belt locked securely around her hips remained a constant reminder of her failure. It had become a part of her, unyielding and merciless, amplifying every moment of her frustration. Though she had tried to focus on her work and daily life, the unfulfilled longing gnawed at her, leaving her irritable and reckless.
Her desperation reached a boiling point one evening at Abyss again. Spotting a random guest who seemed confident yet unassuming, Nadia challenged her to a duel on impulse, hoping to reclaim a shred of her dignity and trade the belt to her. The guest, startled and uninterested, declined with a dismissive laugh, further embarrassing Nadia in front of the crowd. Evelyn, observing from the stage, watched the scene unfold with barely concealed disdain. Evelyn approached Nadia "You’ve become quite the nuisance," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Challenging random guests again? What are you hoping to achieve? Nobody will accept. The belt stays, Nadia. The terms of your defeat were clear."
"You could at least let me prove myself," Nadia shot back, her voice trembling with frustration. "Give me a chance to earn some relief. Others got a career boost, what about me? I have nothing. I languish in chastity. Please."
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, amused by Nadia’s persistence. "You want a chance? Very well. Abyss may have a game for you. But it will be on my terms. And Elise’s."
Her gaze softened for a moment, almost being understanding and sympathetic for Nadia. "I admire your enthusiasm, but your naivety is what breaks you. You never asked for challenges to advance your career, instead you entered into a challenge over love and desire for a man. What relief you ask for now is an aftermath of that duel, this is between you and Elise, not between you and Abyss. As long as you are chaste, you can’t offer yourself to us really, can you? You can offer a game versus the needle frame for us to pull some strings for a small promotion. But risking a single night won’t advance you much. Your most valuable asset is already under lock and key which we hold as trustees safely for your rival… Poor Nadia, the most you get out of this is some sexual relief, if you are skillful, not more." She paused, then added mischievously, "It is so cute that you have trouble accepting a chaste life. Having demanded a forfeit in your duel that you now discover, you can’t handle that well. Why did you even suggest chastity if you are so bad at enduring it?"
Nadia stood heartbroken.
"It’s not just the chastity. It is … the belt. Some nights, the crotch shield is even warmer than body temperature. How is that possible? When I manage to ignore it for too long, it does play tricks with my mind. I can move, dance, run, yoga even. Then there are evenings, I can’t even sit, as…"
"… as if the belt feels neglected? As if it is a living entity with an evil mind of its own? The needles feel longer. Not grown, but as if they were always there? Not pricking but just ever so unignorably grazing your lips, until your pearl comes looking from under its protective hood? Every twitch being a painful reminder of what you wagered?"
"How do you know? How? What is this belt?"
"Like we said, it has a life force of its own. As a matter of fact, all Abyss paraphernalia has." Evelyn smirked knowingly. "Have you noticed it fits perfectly? Whether you lose a pound or gain a pound, it remains a perfect fit, always. And on your hygiene visits, there is never anything to clean really. These devices can indeed be worn for life."
She paused, then unnecessarily added, "Or however long a couple remains together."
Nadia swallowed, close to tears upon hearing more about the strange properties of her belt.
"Do not get me wrong, for us it is preferable when you are breaking under your unmet sexual desires. If it makes it easier for you, there are rich patrons here, wealthy, yet who cannot afford a single orgasm, the same as you. You have seen Ana and what she had to forfeit to advance. You are all equals here. Waitress, cleaner, millionaire, or CEO. She came from poverty to luxury and her pussy was starved for even longer as yours."
"No, she isn’t. She will be free again, being rich from it, and my chastity will continue. I have nothing. No money, no career, not the man I fought for. Mine is indefinite." Nadia whispered in despair.
"Indeed it is. Poor denial kitten. Some play for money, some play for fame. And some play for love." She paused for a moment, "But of all, love is the most dangerous game. Come back next weekend to accept a challenge for at least some sexual relief. A simple dance of endurance, but be aware, we need to define something for you to lose, too, if you don’t endure."
Later, finalizing her plans, Evelyn reached out to Elise and her partner, who had been enjoying Nadia’s continuing chastity. Meeting in one of the private lounges of Abyss, Evelyn proposed a new challenge. Elise had been waiting for this moment for a long time. She didn’t push and had waited patiently for the moment to come to her.
"Nadia is becoming restless," Evelyn began. "She believes she deserves another chance to prove herself. I’d like to use this opportunity to reinforce her place and her punishment, or to grant her some relief."
Elise smirked, her partner leaning back in their seat with a curious expression. "And what do you suggest?" Elise asked.
"As you won the duel, I consult you first. Do you have something to propose for her to prove herself?" Evelyn said smoothly, lifting a crystal glass to her lips. It was not a question. It never was.
"I do," Elise replied, voice crisp, steady.
Evelyn’s lips curled into a knowing smile. "Of course. Poor Nadia. She has been sniffing around lately, desperate for a reprieve."
Elise allowed herself a slight nod. "I thought it fitting that such… desperation be properly channeled."
"Go on."
"A dance," Elise said. "The Stilettos of the Languished Arches. Twenty minutes."
Evelyn laughed, a soft, indulgent sound, and set her glass down with a click. She was hungry, and Nadia’s suffering in chastity tasted great. She was in no mood to allow any orgasm. While she had some sympathy for the naive woman, she was not so foolish as to play with her food. Maybe Elise overestimated the Stilettos of the Languished Arches. "My dear Elise, do you wish to break her entirely? I propose the Infernal Spires. Heels with permanently extended spiked. Chastity is endurance. And so are these Heels. But twenty minutes would destroy her. She wouldn't make it past two songs."
Elise raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Evelyn steepled her fingers. "Two songs. That’s about twelve minutes. The second one faster paced. That will be the challenge. It will appear attainable - difficult, certainly, but not impossible. Tempting."
She leaned forward slightly, the shadows sliding across her features, sharpening them into something almost inhuman for a moment.
"And the forfeit?"
"I want her rubberization, long term." Elise said simply.
Evelyn’s smile widened, pleased. "So, rubber it shall be. This is really your style. Rubber. You really are after her."
The Mistress rose gracefully, moving to a side cabinet and extracting a thin leather folder. She opened it on the table between them, revealing a series of images and designs. Elise moved closer, her heels silent on the thick carpet.
"We have something appropriate for these events," Evelyn said, tapping a sheet lightly. "A latex suit, full coverage from neck to ankles, but no hood or gloves. Thin enough to be hidden under clothing. Worn for a minimum of sixteen hours a day. 112 hours a week."
Elise’s eyes gleamed with bright approval. "I remember the suit. Astrid had to wear it. Honestly, I loved it. It would be perfect to keep her under control."
"One day for every minute she fails to endure," Evelyn said. "If she collapses after four minutes, four days. If she endures eleven, only one."
"Days? This is barely more than Astrid, possibly even less time in it. And here the stakes are much greater, we talk about breaking chastity for her. I was thinking about months."
"While I admire your enthusiasm, for such an extreme forfeit, I would be willing to arrange that if it is going to be a duel instead of a challenge, with you risking the same."
Elise’s smile falters for a moment. "It was only an idea. But days? How about the middle ground? Can we make it weeks instead of days?"
Evelyn smiled "Weeks will be acceptable for her solo challenge. But be aware that it is much more likely that she declines."
Evelyn watched her with predatory eyes.
Elise thought for only a second, "Even if she declines, she is unraveled enough to reconsider it a week later."
Evelyn knew that she was right, of course.
"Then we shall demand weeks as her forfeit. And coming back to your desire for months, if she falls into weeks now, we may offer a gamble for months later down the road, but you will have to counterbalance with some forfeit of your own. It will be called the Rubber Suit of Resolve," Evelyn added. "A poetic name for a fitting penance."
Elise allowed herself the faintest of smiles. "And the conditions of wear?"
"Very strict. She may remove it only for eight hours a day, including to wash herself and the suit. Any violation, any breach, and we insure further penalties, such as the Needle Frame for failing to endure the hours. And of course, if she runs or refuses later on, her contract would ensure she doesn’t take that route."
"Perfect."
They both stood there for a moment, savoring the weight of the plan solidifying between them.
"And what," Elise asked knowingly with silken amusement, "is the prize Nadia so dearly craves?"
"A single orgasm," Evelyn said. "Nothing more."
Elise’s laughter was rich, indulgent. "I do not want her to orgasm. Can we do something else?"
"Not really. She is sexually desperate," Evelyn responded. "I doubt edgings would get her to risk the kind of rubberization forfeit you are asking for. It is severe, and the price should match the prize. It is a challenge, not a sentence."
"Okay. I accept, but reluctantly. I’d prefer, if she never comes. But let’s make it clear: the belt stays permanently unless she wins. No more of these challenges. Give her a time out, so she cannot try again for an orgasm immediately."
"While I like your spirit, this is too harsh. The belt stays on as long as you two are together, or she wins a duel and can transfer the belt. That were the terms and they still stand. But as nobody would accept such a challenge to a duel, this is purely theoretical," Evelyn said. "However, I concede that she will be banned from issuing or accepting any challenge for one year, unless you yourself offer it. This way she will not be able to gamble for orgasms all the time. But the stakes are steep. Nadia will struggle to meet the suit’s requirements, especially since you said she works in retail."
Elise’s eyes gleamed with amusement. "That’s her problem. She can wear it under her clothes. Or all weekend long to compensate, her weekends then belong fully to the suit. That’ll teach her persistence."
The following weekend, Evelyn called Nadia to the stage. The audience quieted as Evelyn addressed them, her commanding presence demanding their attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, "Nadia here believes she deserves another chance to prove her worth. Apparently, she is desperate for sexual relief as she cannot handle the tension. And so, I have devised a challenge. She will perform a twelve-minute dance routine in the Infernal Spires. If she endures until the very end, the belt will come off for one orgasm, and she will be able to find her long thought after relief and a deep satisfaction. But if she falters, if her knees hit the dance floor before the music stops, the remaining minutes will become weeks in the Rubber Suit of Resolve. It is thin and light, can be worn underneath her day-to-day clothes. Sixteen hours a day, 112 hours totaling per week. No hood nor gloves. Only inside Abyss, she will be hooded and gloved as well. And for one year, she cannot challenge random guests." The crowd cheered in approval.
Nadia’s face turned pale as she realized the enormity of the task. She was expecting to maybe endure the infamous night in the Needle Frame. "112 hours a week?" she echoed. "But I don’t work from home. I need at least ten hours out of the suit each weekday. Or I’ll have to spend my weekends almost entirely enclosed."
Evelyn’s smile widened. "Correct. You are in a latex club after all. Are you afraid of a little bit of rubber? And the Infernal Spires contain spikes, not even needles. But yes, weekends will mean 23-hour days of rubber enclosure, if you desire to not wear the suit to work. Do you accept, or do you concede now?"
Nadia hesitated, calculating the sheer amount of effort and discomfort required. Her weekends, once her reprieve, would become grueling marathons of confinement. The belt felt hot on her hips, as if to encourage her, to push her. A needle gently touched her clitoris as she was becoming more and more aroused at the promised orgasm. She flinched. The audience looked expectantly to her. The possibility to orgasm drowning all reason, the thought of one evening free of the belt drove her to nod. She needed it so badly, she could not think of anything else.
"I accept," Nadia whispered, her voice almost lost amid the gathered hush of the crowd.
The stage blazed to life, every spotlight focusing down with merciless intensity. There was no room to hide. No reprieve.
The attendants guided her forward, taking off her shoes, and fitting the Heels - the "Infernal Spires" - onto her trembling feet. Nadia looked down briefly as they locked the gleaming shoes into place. There was no retractable mechanism here, no chance for relief: the thin spikes were permanently extended inside the heels, millimeters long, like tiny fangs, pressing with cruel insistence into the delicate skin of her bare soles. This was about endurance of pain.
Every step she took would be agony. She stood carefully, barely breathing, feeling the foreign invasion already. The spikes did not puncture, but they pressed deep enough to ignite every nerve ending, a persistent whisper of suffering that would soon become a roar. Across the stage, Evelyn watched with serene satisfaction, her arms crossed lightly, her smile faint and knowing.
The music began - a deep, pulsing beat that filled the chamber like a second heartbeat.
Nadia moved.
The first step sent a shock of pain up her legs, an involuntary gasp escaping her lips. She swallowed it down, focusing, forcing her body to respond. She shifted her weight, each pivot and slide sending new flares of anguish through her.
One orgasm. Just one. Please.
The thought was her anchor. After almost two years of denial, of nights tangled in sheets slick with frustration, the prize was almost unimaginable. One release. One moment of peace. She twirled, the movement too sharp, too desperate - pain spiked higher, almost taking her breath. The audience watched with rapt attention, their masked faces unreadable, yet Nadia could feel their hunger, their expectation. She fought to find a rhythm, her body adapting to the spikes' cruelty, each step measured, delicate. She used her arms, her hips, every muscle in a delicate choreography designed not for grace alone, but for sheer survival.
Two minutes.
Already her calves trembled, the strength draining faster than she had feared. The Infernal Spires were merciless. Every beat of the music drove needles of fire deeper into her flesh.
Focus. Endure.
She tried to disassociate, to imagine herself floating above the pain, but it clung to her, inescapable, searing through her.
Nadia faltered, just a stutter-step, but the crowd noticed. A murmur swept through them, a tightening of attention.
Don't fall. Don't fall. Not yet.
But the spikes tore her resolve as surely as they tore her body.
By the fifth minute, her vision blurred with pain. The first song ended, and another began - faster, more brutal. The second song's rhythm demanded more than mere endurance - it demanded surrender to its tempo, a ceaseless, grinding motion that left no room for careful, slow footing. Her heart raced, her breath grew ragged. Each lift of her foot, each pivot, felt like driving a thousand thorns into raw muscle. Sweat poured down her temples, slicking her latex outfit to her skin. Her legs burned, spasmed involuntarily. The spikes felt larger, sharper, their invasion of her flesh complete.
Her ankle gave, and with a choked scream, she dropped to her knees. The Infernal Spires bit savagely into her soles one last time as her body collapsed forward onto the unforgiving stage. In this moment, nothing matters more than getting her tortured soles out of these infernal shoes.
The music kept pounding for a moment longer before it mercifully faded into silence.
The roar of the crowd filled the vacuum. Applause, whistles, laughter - not mocking, but rapturous, feasting on the spectacle of her fall. Nadia remained on the floor, trembling, her breath tearing in and out of her lungs. Her feet were a mass of burning agony, her muscles cramping violently. Above her, Evelyn’s voice floated like silk over glass.
"Brave, Nadia," she said smoothly, her voice carrying easily over the din. "But bravery alone does not defeat the Infernal Spires."
Two attendants stepped forward, their movements brisk, professional. They unlatched the towering heels from her feet, each touch sending fresh jolts of pain up Nadia’s battered legs.
Her mind reeled, not only from the pain but from the realization settling cold into her gut.
"No, no, please, no!" she called out, shaking her head in disbelief.
The sixth minute had begun just as she fell.
Six minutes of success.
Six weeks in rubber.
All for a dream of one fleeting orgasm.
The price for failure was already waiting for her, silent and inevitable.
Evelyn stepped forward, raising a hand for silence. "Six minutes remaining," she announced, her voice ringing through the room. "That means six weeks in the Rubber Suit of Resolve."
Elise and her partner stood from their seats, exchanging gleeful smiles before breaking into a small, mocking victory dance. The crowd joined in the celebration as Evelyn raised the microphone and shouted, "Rubber enclosure for Nadia!" The club roared with approval, the chant echoing in Nadia’s ears like a sentence.
The roaring of the crowd still echoed faintly in Nadia's ears as the two attendants appeared, their movements silent, precise, inevitable. Between them they carried a neatly folded bundle of black latex, its surface gleaming like spilled oil beneath the relentless stage lights. Without words, they approached her, their latex-gloved hands impossibly gentle as they lifted her trembling form from the floor. Nadia's legs barely held her. Every nerve in her feet throbbed from the spikes’ punishment, but there was no time to recover, no moment of mercy. The attendants led her backstage, the crowd’s laughter and applause fading into a muffled backdrop. Her mind was a maelstrom - a wild churn of humiliation, disbelief, and the creeping realization that she had stepped willingly into her own nightmare.
Laid out before her was the suit - not a mere costume, but a sentence.
They worked efficiently, wordlessly. The inner layer was a thin application of lubricant - a necessity, she realized dimly, to even slide into the merciless second skin. Then the latex itself - thin, supple, yet utterly relentless - was drawn up her legs, over her hips, encasing her torso like a vise. Her arms were eased into long sleeves; her fingers into delicate gloves that robbed her of sensation. Nadia’s breathing quickened as the high collar of the suit was zipped closed behind her neck, sealing her body from the world. An embedded LED was turning on, red.
Gloves were donned. The hood was next - a sleek piece of latex that stretched tight over her scalp, smoothing her features into anonymous submission. Tiny nostril holes allowed her breath; a small opening permitted speech, though she knew better than to try. Her world darkened, narrowed, became intimate with the scent of rubber and the pounding of her own heart.
Finally, rubber boots - shiny, thick-soled and heavy, no inner lining naturally, ensuring her languished feet felt nothing but latex, locking her steps into measured, silent movements - completed the ensemble.
When the attendants led her back onto the stage, a low murmur rippled through the audience. The transformation was breathtaking. Nadia, the vibrant, defiant woman who had once moved so freely across Abyss's floors, was now a slick, black figure of silent shame.
The suit hugged every curve cruelly, every tremor of muscle visible to the greedy eyes of the onlookers. She was beautiful - and utterly conquered.
Evelyn stepped forward from the shadows, her presence commanding immediate attention. Her smile was slow, cruelly elegant, as she addressed the crowd.
"Behold," she said, her voice a velvet dagger, "long-term rubberization for Nadia! The price of misplaced ambition."
She circled Nadia slowly, her heels clicking against the stage, savoring every heartbeat of tension.
"This suit," Evelyn continued, "will be her second skin. Here, in Abyss, she will wear the full ensemble: suit, gloves, boots, and hood. Outside our sanctuary, she will be permitted to forgo the hood, gloves, and boots - but the body suit must remain for sixteen hours a day."
Nadia swayed slightly under the weight of her humiliation, the heat of the suit already prickling against her damp skin.
"She will wear it," Evelyn said, pausing to let the words sink deep into every soul present, "for 112 hours each week, for the next six weeks. The LED will turn green when the 112 hours are met between Monday and Sunday Midnight and notify us. Believe me, dear Nadia, you want to turn that LED green."
There was a beat of silence - reverent, almost awestruck - before Evelyn added, with a razor-edged smile, "Because should she fail - should she fall short of her quota - she will find herself intimately reacquainted with our Needle Frame."
A collective shiver rippled through the gathered spectators. They all knew the cruelty of the Needle Frame, the way it punished even the slightest movement with unrelenting, exquisite agony.
"Up to six twenty-four hour sessions," Evelyn murmured, almost lovingly, "one for each week she fails to turn the LED green. That shall serve a reminder that there are worse things than rubber, before she would need to start her six weeks over."
Nadia's knees threatened to buckle again, but the attendants' firm hands kept her upright.
"Your only task," Evelyn said, her voice dropping to an intimate purr, "is to endure. To obey. To turn the LED green each week, indicating your successful hours. Fail, and the needles will find you, before you try the latex once more."
The attendants guided Nadia into a slow, humiliating walk around the stage - a parade for the patrons, a living lesson in the cost of chastity. Somewhere deep inside her, past the burning shame and despair, Nadia felt a tiny ember of resolve harden. She had lost the wager. She would wear their rubber, Elise’s rubber. She would find a way out.
Later that night, Elise and Alexandru passed by the lounge to admire the updated plague and photo.
NADIA
SCORNED LOVER. CHASTITY.
INDEFINITE
RUBBER ENCLOSURE: 6 WEEKS
The penthouse was silent late into the night except for the ragged breath of Elise echoing softly against the high glass walls. Her body still trembled faintly, the aftershocks of a third self-induced orgasm in a matter of hours tracing shivers up her spine. The sheets beneath her were rumpled silk, clinging to her skin as she sat up slowly, letting the coolness of the room kiss her flushed body.
She slipped from the bed, nude, her bare feet whispering against the polished floors. The skyline beyond the towering windows glittered in fractured constellations, a perfect mirror to the chaos inside her chest. She padded toward the kitchen, immaculate and sterile, lit only by under-cabinet strips of warm gold. From the sleek drawer, she selected her favorite tin of black orchid tea - an indulgence imported at ludicrous cost, worth every cent. She poured, inhaled, then tasted.
Perfection.
Elise leaned against the counter, sipping slowly. Her mind was alight. Not with romance. Not with Alexandru. He was incidental now. Her focus had narrowed to Nadia - beautiful, defiant, insufferable Nadia. And the rubber. Six weeks. Six brutal, sculpting, ritualized weeks. 112 hours a week. Sixteen hours a day. Encased. Controlled. Owned.
She grinned into her cup, a slow, private smile that curled at the corners.
It wasn’t about love. It never had been. It was about power. Precision. Control. Knowing Nadia will struggle under her rubberization rules in the coming weeks brought Elise a kind of pleasure far more potent than any lover’s touch. She didn’t need Alexandru, not tonight, not to enjoy this. The rubber rules were hers. The structure was hers. And now, Nadia’s time, her body, her breath - hers too.
The image was too much.
Her thoughts flicked back to Samira. Back in university. Shy. So very obedient. Tutoring had been a pretext, really. Elise had coaxed her into latex submission. Nothing like now. Nothing institutional. No contracts. But Samira had squirmed in a simple catsuit just the way Elise liked. She had been Elise’s first experiment, the first proof that surrender could be extracted through suggestion alone. A test. A prelude. A way to keep control on those around her.
Now she had Nadia.
Not just for a night. For weeks. Under contract. With terms.
Elise swallowed the last of her tea, her eyes burning with anticipation. She pressed her fingertips against the cool marble of the counter, trying to still the new flush rising under her skin. The thought of Nadia waking each morning to latex, enduring each hour under sweat-sealed restriction, knowing Elise had designed the regimen herself - it pulsed through her. She thought about the belt around Nadia’s hips. It had taken long, but now that was no longer the only token of her submission. Finally, she had gotten what she wanted. As always. Nadia was now under her rubberization rules, finally.
She didn’t even finish rinsing the cup. She turned, heart hammering.
By the time she reached the bedroom again, her mind was already deep inside the suit with Nadia. She thought about slipping into her own catsuit for the short remainder of the night, just to feel what Nadia would endure, but decided against it.
And Elise let herself sink back into the sheets, her fingers diving into her apex, complementing bodily pleasure with the images in her mind, sculpted by power, fed by control, and sweetened by the thought of her rival melting inside her second skin.