Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Visiting my Rubber Mistresses 2: Mistress Philippa and Mistress Diana

by Rb6009

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© Copyright 2013 - Rb6009 - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; F/m+; D/s; latex; catsuit; hood; bond; foot; bdsm; nipple; cbt; bodybag; tease; torment; ws; denial; mast; oral; climax; true; cons; XX

story continues from part one

Visiting My Rubber Mistresses 2: Mistress Philippa and Mistress Diana

I had been so exhilarated by my session with Lady Sarah that I thought it could be some time before the dark need for rubber bondage and humiliation reasserted itself, but by Friday I found myself craving the familiar territory of Birmingham and Mistress Philippa, and so I found myself ringing her, introducing myself as Rubberslave as usual, and asking for an appointment for the following Monday. Sadly this was not possible, but we eventually settled on Thursday at 10.30.

As she was about to ring off, I found myself blurting out “Just one other thing …”


“We’ve discussed two or three times filming one of my sessions. Would that be possible on Thursday?”

“I’ll do my very best – yes, there’s a very good chance I could arrange that.”

* * *

And that was that until the following Wednesday, when things took an even darker turn. I had found myself wondering what my reaction would be if, after one session with a rubber-clad Mistress had ended in relief and the inevitable aftermath of self-disgust and remorse, was I to go straight to another Mistress and suffer the same treatment again? There was only one way to find out …

“Hello, is that Mistress Diana?”

“Yes, it is” – a confident voice with a trace of a Birmingham accent.

“I’ve not visited you before but I’ve seen your website and would very much like to book an appointment.”

“When would you like to come?”

“Early tomorrow afternoon if possible please – say about one o’clock?”

“Yes, I can do that” – once again I was amazed at the simplicity with which the descent into an underworld of domination, humiliation and rubber could be arranged – “what do you have in mind?”

“Well, my main interest is in rubber, and especially rubber bondage. I’d like to arrive in a rubber catsuit …”

“That’s OK as long as you don’t walk down the street in it!”

And so my schedule for the day was set – a session with Mistress Philippa, hopefully recorded for posterity, in the morning, an hour or so to recover and travel across Birmingham, and a step into the unknown with Mistress Diana in the afternoon. Was this wise? – probably not! But was I looking forward to it? – yes, with a feverish sense of anticipation!

* * *

The weather on Thursday was appalling – indeed, motorists were being advised to travel only if their journey was really essential. Gale force winds and driving rain were expected and indeed I experienced them as I headed up the M5 and towards Birmingham. Happily I didn’t see the overturned lorry until I was on my way home …

Even so I arrived early, cocooned damply in my familiar thick black rubber catsuit, and sat outside Mistress Philippa’s house, putting on my black rubber gloves so that I was ready to start the session immediately.

When Mistress Philippa ushered me inside I found it hard to conceal my disappointment – no rubber goddess this time, simply a woman dressed conservatively in a casual blouse, though with a long black leather skirt hinting at the depravity to come. As usual I was ordered to strip down to my latex catsuit and then wait, and when Mistress Philippa returned I was fitted with a thick black rubber hood, all the heavier because of the attached gas-mask style tubes which hung down and swayed against my latex-covered chest. My Mistress then fitted plastic lenses into the eye holes, cutting me off from the real world completely.

I was commanded to spread myself on the red rubber-covered table and complied without question, feeling the familiar stirrings in my rubber-cocooned cock as Mistress Philippa strapped me in, the leather bindings biting into my rubber-covered flesh as she bound me tightly at ankle, knee, thigh, elbow and wrist before throwing more leather straps across my body and walking round to pull them tight and fasten them on the other side of my prostrate body. Laughing, she then caressed my trapped rubberised form as I watched in the overhead mirror.

“Well, Rubberslave, this is how you like to be, isn’t it? Covered in lovely thick rubber and helpless, so that I can do anything I want to you!”

I moaned in arousal, pitifully aware of my position, spread-eagled in rubber bondage and ready for more pain and humiliation.

The pain was not long in coming. Mistress Philippa quickly opened the nipple zips in my rubber catsuit and toyed with the exposed flesh, working on the nipples and then clamping them. My left nipple in particular was painfully caught between the jagged teeth of the clamp, bursts of agony exploding as I fought to control my reaction and resist the urge to scream out.

I continued to moan in agony as my Mistress fondled my latex catsuit, dragging her hands over the thick rubber so that the material squeaked in protest at the treatment it was getting. I felt her hands roughly tracing a path over my thighs and arms, but especially over my chest and shoulders, so that the squeaking rubber filled my ears as I lay in subjugation.

“Yes, this is what you love, isn’t it, Rubberslave?! You love being in this nice, noisy, squeaky rubber!”

I was torn between the pain throbbing outwards from my abused, clamped nipples and the pleasure from her hands caressing my rubber-covered body – but then pain won again as she grasped the nipple clamps and toyed with them, sending new bursts of agony through me as I fought to retain some sort of composure. Just as I felt a scream forming in my throat she restricted my breathing, the clammy rubber hood with its attached tubing pressed against my face as I groaned in desperation.

I shifted in my bonds as Mistress Philippa returned to dragging her hands over my rubber-catsuited body, the friction between flesh and rubber creating warmth as the clammy latex clasped my chest, and the rubber squeaking its protests as she pulled and twisted it. Her hand dropped down my body and she grasped my cock through the thick black latex, murmuring as she always did about how naughty I’d been. Then she opened the crotch zip on my rubber bodysuit and dragged my turgid cock out into the open, playing roughly with it as I squirmed in the leather bonds pinning me to the table.

“You’re hot and sweaty today, Rubberslave – all excited in your rubber!”

Now her hands were working to fit a leather strap around my balls and attach and tightly fasten the strap around the base of my cock, leaving my shaft waving slightly and pointing upwards as she clipped a chain to the strap and then fastened it tightly to the end of the table. I shifted in renewed discomfort, my balls stretched downwards and the base of my cock imprisoned in leather.

Mistress Philippa walked to the instrument table and then came back with the item I had learned to fear most – the rake! Quickly she attacked my balls, drawing the tines slowly over the stretched flesh and then working her way up my erect and defenceless shaft before finally working the rake lightly but painfully over my purplish cockhead. I endured a couple of minutes of this fiendish torture, strapped down and helpless as my cock and balls were assaulted.

Finally my Mistress relented, putting the rake down and toying with my clamped nipples before tracing her hand across my catsuited body, the rubber squeaking again as she worked. “Perhaps I’ll put some rubber on myself” she whispered in my ear, “and maybe I’ll let you worship my rubber knickers! You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Rubberslave?”

My throbbing cock betrayed my feelings even before I was able to croak out, “Yes, Mistress!”

Then, without warning, the rake was back, the pain excruciating as she worked on my shaft and especially on the exposed, stretched flesh around its head. But this was only a precursor to the first clips being attached to my balls, my Mistress working methodically to crowd a whole series of clips around my balls and then up my aching cock. I writhed in agony as each clip added its own element to the torture.

I lay sweating in rubber, bound to the table, my cock and balls trussed and tied down and my genitals snagged by a couple of dozen clips. I whimpered and suffered, wondering how long this would last, and knowing as I heard Mistress Philippa walk away into the next room that no immediate relief was likely.

The sounds of rubber smacking against flesh told me that my Mistress was fulfilling her promise to dress in rubber knickers for me. Then I heard her return, and to my astonishment sensed the flash of a photo being taken! “Now, Rubberslave, I need some new pictures for my website!” she said, as she walked around my black rubber-cocooned body. I recalled asking her to film this session – where was the cameraman? Would he walk in at any moment, to be greeted by the sight of a whimpering latex-clad slave undergoing some serious CBT?

Finally satisfied with the photos she’d taken, Mistress Philippa put the camera down and began to remove the clips from my balls, causing renewed bursts of agony as she wrenched the clips off, laughing throatily at my reaction. She showed equally little concern for the pain she caused as she pulled the clips off my cock, leaving me gasping into the thick rubber hood.

Now it was time for electrics, and I endured the familiar embarrassment of having the cock rings tugged over my erection before Mistress Philippa connected up the machine and I felt the first tingling sensations pulsing around my shaft. Oddly, though, my Mistress had turned the machine only to a low setting, and there was little real effect on my cock, certainly when compared to the pain which coursed through my nipples as she turned her attention once again to playing with the clamps attached to my sensitive nubs.

All this changed, though, when Mistress Philippa turned the dial upwards and my cock was assailed with painful bursts of electric current, while at the same time my tormentor moved to stand next to my throbbing genitals and began to roughly handle my sensitive, stretched ball-flesh and the base of my tortured shaft. Under her ministrations my cock grew fully erect and this intensified the agony I felt as the jolts of electricity pulsed around the shaft, and the cock rings squeezed and gripped tightly against my aching prick.

Mistress Philippa leant forward, still handling my cock and balls but whispering that she would take her Rubberslave outside when the weather warmed up. She was rewarded with a groan of agony as my cock twitched at the thought of being paraded around her garden in my rubberwear, no doubt leashed and shackled, while another squeeze from the vice-like cock rings combined with her rough caress to maximise the torture my shaft was undergoing.

At last my Mistress switched the TENS machine off and the pain in my cock subsided as she removed the cock rings. Then, mercifully, the nipple clamps were removed too, jolts of pain flowing through my nipples as the circulation returned, and finally the straps trapping me in stringent bondage on the red rubber-covered table were loosened and I was commanded to kneel in front of her for the thick black hood to be removed – only to find my head quickly encased in a softer, deep red hood which clasped my features firmly as she lined up the eye, nose and mouth holes.

Mistress Philippa then reclined in her throne and ordered me to worship her boots. Not having been told to stand, I crawled across the room, the wet rubber of my catsuit squeaking noisily as I crawled, and kissed and licked her boots, gradually working my way from the foot to the top, my eyes feasting on the black rubber knickers which she now wore as I laved the tops of her shiny thigh-length PVC boots.

Now my Mistress stood and commanded me to crawl across the room and then heave myself onto the black dentist’s chair. She reclined it to the horizontal, then strapped me firmly to the chair before wrapping a harness around my head and attaching it to the top of the chair.

I looked up at my reflection in the overhead mirror as I lay submissively, imprisoned from head to toe in hot, clammy rubber, the sweat pooling beneath me and trickling down my arms into the black rubber gloves I wore, and firmly imprisoned too by the wide leather straps binding me to the chair. The vision was shameful but at the same time erotically stimulating and I both felt and saw my cock, which had subsided while I worshipped Mistress Philippa’s boots, springing back to life and poking obscenely through the still-open zip of my black latex catsuit.

Mistress Philippa saw it too, and used my stiffening shaft to steady herself as she swung one booted leg over me and then straddled my head, her black rubber-covered arse approaching my face as she settled herself and then began to masturbate my cock, at first gently but then with increasing force.

“Worship my knickers, Rubberslave!” she urged as her rubber-clad bottom nestled against me, and I began to kiss and lick the thick black rubber with passion as she continued to work my throbbing prick.

“That’s it, Rubberslave, kiss my arse! That’s what you need, isn’t it? – to be helpless in rubber and worshipping your Mistress’s rubbery arse!”

The obscene words and the heady excitement of lying trapped in thick rubber with a woman’s rubber-covered arse covering my face were having their inevitable effect and I could feel my semen-laden balls tightening in preparation for the inevitable explosion. I continued to lick the black rubber knickers trapping my face as Mistress Philippa intensified her efforts, wanking my stiff shaft mercilessly as she told me how she controlled me and controlled my ejaculation.

I could hold back no longer and my cum shot out of my rock-hard cock, splattering wetly on the black rubber of my catsuit as it spewed out in several bursts, raining down on my latex-covered chest and thighs. Mistress Philippa continued to masturbate my cock until the stream of hot white cum slowed and stopped, her hand lubricated by cum and sliding easily up and down the shaft.

I luxuriated for a moment in the warm glow of orgasm, before the feelings of shame and degradation returned as my Mistress dismounted me and wiped the cum off my catsuit, then began the task of releasing me from my bondage. My cock detumesced quickly and, almost as soon as I was able to lever myself off the table and stand up in the clammy rubber which still enveloped me, I self-consciously reached down to hide it in the catsuit and zip up my crotch – only to find that the leather cock and ball strap was still fastened to my genitals!

Even more self-consciously I unfastened the strap and wiped my freed cock and balls, then zipped up the catsuit as Mistress Philippa returned. Somewhat timidly I asked if she could email me the photographs she’d taken of me with my cock festooned with clips – but she agreed immediately to do so. Emboldened, I asked about the film which we’d hoped to make.

“Yes, it was all arranged but the cameraman lives outside Birmingham and rang to say that he couldn’t get here because of the weather. We’ll just have to arrange it for another time – I do want to make a film with you.”

Bizarrely this had the effect of setting my cock twitching again in its rubber prison as I imagined the film. “In some ways it was more exciting not knowing whether he’d walk in at some stage” I said. Mistress Philippa smiled, the smile lingering as she showed me out into the wet and windy street.

* * *

I had an hour or so to recover my composure, so I headed to a pub in Harborne for lunch and a pint of Wadworth’s, the other customers unaware that underneath my sweater and jeans I was still clad in a damp, all-embracing rubber catsuit! Then it was back to the car for the short trip across the city, for my second experience of rubber domination in one day.

I located the house and, as instructed on the phone, entered the porch and rang the door bell. There was a delay before I heard a bolt being drawn, a key turned and the door opened – to reveal Mistress Diana in a stunning, obviously expensive black rubber catsuit, covering her from head to toe but with an oval cut-out revealing the tops of her generous breasts. She was considerably younger than I’d expected (maybe late 30s?), much more attractive than her website had led me to believe, and was smiling broadly, welcoming me into the dimly-lit hall.

Meekly I followed the dark-haired dominatrix into a room at the end of the hall, still drinking in the sight of her in black rubber, the catsuit clearly pretty thick and clinging to her lithe body. She quickly ordered me to strip down to my rubber catsuit, and as I did so she asked me about my interests – which I summarised as rubber, bondage and humiliation rather than pain.

“Do you want to meet other people?” she asked, the directness of her questioning so early in our ‘relationship’ a little disconcerting.

“I have … done that once before” I muttered.

“Right – I’m busy upstairs at the moment, so I’ll put you in bondage and you can watch a rubber DVD while I finish off” she said. With that she indicated for me to kneel, and quickly and efficiently encased my head in a thick black rubber hood, smoothing it down and aligning the eye holes. Then she ordered me onto the bed, produced a bondage bag made of really thick black rubber and with some difficulty worked my body, already thickly encased in rubber, into it before zipping it up and producing a pillow for me to prop my head on.

With that Mistress Diana turned on the DVD and left the room, and I heard her booted feet climbing the stairs. I lay back and turned my attention to the screen, still somewhat taken aback at the speed with which the session had started. Within five minutes of meeting me she had me imprisoned in heavy rubber bondage, lying on a bed and watching a porn DVD!

In fact the action on the screen was decidedly soft-core, with a series of women posing as if for fashion photos, although admittedly they all wore clinging black rubber, and one of them was putting on and then suggestively fondling a sizeable black rubber dildo. My attention wandered and I tried to decipher the ill-defined sounds of movement in the room directly above me, but without much success other than occasionally picking out Mistress Diana’s raised voice as she gave orders.

Incongruously I could also hear the voices of small children as they played in a nearby school playground. The incongruity seemed all the greater when I focused again on the screen, two women scantily clad in black rubber bras and briefs now caressing each other with increasing urgency.

Suddenly Mistress Diana reappeared, first checking that I was OK and then dropping her hands to the crotch zip on the black rubber body bag, before unzipping the crotch of my catsuit and grasping my erect cock, hauling it out to point nakedly towards the mirrored ceiling.

“Well, well!” she smirked as she ran her sharply pointed nails over my balls and up the engorged shaft. Once again a flush of shameful pride ran through me as the rubber-clad Mistress toyed with my shaft.

Her next words brought me back to earth, though. “Have you ever had your cock sucked by another slave?!”

“No, Mistress.”

“No?!!” The surprise and derision in her voice were obvious, and damning.

She continued to masturbate my fully erect cock and I writhed in pleasure inside the two layers of thick rubber cocooning my body, only dimly aware now of the rubber-clad vixens on the screen.

Mistress Diana tugged roughly at my shaft as she looked down at me. “Well, you won’t be getting it sucked yet!” she sneered, letting my prick loose and marching out of the room again. Once more her boots could be heard stomping up the stairs.

I lay back, luxuriating in the tightness and extreme thickness of my rubber bondage and sliding gently in the wet catsuit which formed the inner layer of my bizarre clothing, as the pain/pleasure in my cock gradually subsided in the absence of Mistress Diana’s dextrous stimulation. Then I turned my attention again to the screen, gasping in shock as I saw that the action had moved on considerably. This was no fashion shoot: a kneeling woman now had her rubber-sheathed hand inside a man’s grotesquely-stretched arse while the impaled submissive was furiously wanking his own cock!

The obscene eroticism of the scene, with the woman’s black latex-clad arm pumping in and out of the stretched asshole, had an inevitable effect on my own cock , which was now fully erect and pointing skywards once more – something which Mistress Diana immediately remarked upon when she once more entered the room. Once again she grasped my cock firmly and began to masturbate it, working rhythmically up and down and bringing me close to release before easing off and denying me orgasm.

“Where have you come from, slave?”

“From near Gloucester, Mistress” I panted.

“How long have you been interested in bondage?”

I groaned as her ministrations started again, her hand caressing my balls and then moving up and down the shaft. “I’ve been a rubber fetishist for years, Mistress, but have only recently developed an interest in bondage and submission.”

“Which other Mistresses have you visited?”

“Mistress Philippa, Mistress.”

“Ah, yes – she has all the equipment too!”

Once again I was left alone in rigorous rubber bondage, and again I looked back to the screen, anxious to see how the rubber porn DVD had developed. I was not disappointed: now a man lay strapped to a table in a clinic, attended to by two ‘nurses’ clad in black rubber. One of the latex nurses impaled the man’s arse on an enema tube and ensured that the nozzle was fully inserted before releasing the enema. The man thrashed about on the table as the water entered his rectum, yet his cock lay inert just above the nozzle implanted in his asshole.

My cock was anything but inert, the shaft fully engorged as I stared at the screen, engrossed in the depravity that was unfolding. But I was not to see any more – Mistress Diana was back and unfastening the straps on the bondage bag before drawing it off and ordering me to follow her upstairs to see the rest of the rooms in this outwardly unremarkable modern suburban house. We made a strange sight – a booted, rubber-clad woman striding ahead of a submissive slave, his cock jutting out of a rubber catsuit as he followed her in search of more humiliation.

We entered what in normal houses would have been the front bedroom. Here it had a rubber-covered table to one side, a bondage chair and an array of implements and bizarre costumes. Mistress Diana ordered me to kneel while she fetched a rubber sheet, then instructed me to lie down on the sheet while she worked my cock back to full hardness. Next she stood above my cock, unzipping the crotch of her catsuit and almost immediately unleashing a torrent of warm piss!

I groaned and looked away in embarrassment as the torrent continued, the urine cascading hotly down onto my fully erect cock.

“You can look, slave!” Mistress Diana shouted.

I blushed but focused my gaze on her naked crotch, the torrent showing no sign of easing off as it jetted out. Her deeply furrowed cunt, framed by trimmed black pubic hair, was clearly visible as she stood above my cock and then squatted slightly to force the last of her piss out to cascade over my cock and my drenched catsuit. I shuddered as the urine dripped down my cock, worked its way into and around my catsuit and pooled beneath my rubbered arse.

“That’s better” Mistress Diana smirked as she zipped up her rubber catsuit and then moved to straddle my head, lowering herself until the thick rubber pressed onto my face. For the second time that day I found myself kissing and licking a rubber-covered arse, though this time the dominatrix was actively grinding her latex-clad body over my face, and at the same time toying with my wet cock, ensuring that it retained its hardness, the foreskin stretched thinly and the purplish cockhead straining against her talented fingers.

I was ordered to stand and wipe the worst of her piss off my catsuit before being fitted with a thick black rubber gag, which Mistress Diana inflated until my cheeks bulged uncomfortably. Then I was collared and leashed and leather straps were fitted to both my wrists. As she turned to reach for a pair of handcuffs I gesticulated wildly, unable to take the gag. Mercifully she unbuckled it and allowed it to slide out of my aching mouth.

“You don’t like it? – well, it’s good to try. And it was rather big!” she said

I muttered my thanks as she ordered me to cross my hands behind my back and then secured the handcuffs before leading me by the leash into an adjoining room. I looked around in astonishment, fleetingly meeting the eyes of two more male slaves before looking away in renewed embarrassment. One knelt, one stood beside him; both were hooded and wore some other rubber items, though in both cases their cocks stood out nakedly in front of them.

I was pulled by the leash to stand in front of the kneeling slave and he in turn was told to masturbate my cock and then, as I stood submissively but with churning thoughts, to suck my cock! As the kneeling slave obediently worked on my shaft, his mouth finally capturing my cock – still wet with Mistress Diana’s piss! – the other slave walked round behind and I felt his cock pushing against my rubber-clad bottom and then, incredibly, Mistress Diana’s hand placing my right hand on his rigid shaft and urging me to masturbate it.

Strangely I felt no reluctance and worked my hand up and down the shaft, rewarded by gasps of pleasure and rising passion as I established a rhythm. At the same time I accepted the oral pleasuring of my own cock by a hooded male slave as something somehow far more natural than I could have anticipated.

Mistress Diana suddenly ordered the kneeling slave to suck my balls and I felt him capture one of my testicles with his avidly working mouth as the rubber-clad dominatrix grasped my cock myself and began to wank it hard. I continued to work on the cock in my handcuffed hand and the slave behind me responded by grasping my nipples through the rubber.

“He doesn’t like that, I’m afraid” Mistress Diana told him – I’d forgotten I’d told her that during our introductory talk – and so he contented himself with caressing my black rubber catsuit while I masturbated his stiff cock, changing hands to work it with my left hand and drawing it against the rubber covering my arse on every downstroke.

Mistress Diana was getting a little impatient, though, and now she ordered the kneeling slave to fasten his mouth around my cock again.

“Come on, slave, suck! Get him to spunk on your face!”

The slave who knelt in front of me was doing his best, not least because he was now being urged on with a few lashes of Mistress Diana’s whip on his back, but the situation was so bizarre – standing handcuffed in rubber while one male slave sucked my cock and I wanked another cock with my bound hand – that I couldn’t take the final step and had to confess that I couldn’t cum. Mistress Diana looked contemptuously at me, then ordered me into the front bedroom while, no doubt, she let the kneeling slave have a few well-chosen words.

I stood forlornly in the front room, waiting for Mistress Diana. She strode in, saying, “That wasn’t a very good performance!”

“No, Mistress. I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“I’ll forgive you this time – perhaps it was because it was your first time in those circumstances” she said as she busied herself removing the cuffs, straps and collar and ordering me to lie on the bench.

Mistress Diana retrieved a tube of lubricant and greased my cock generously before beginning an expert masturbation while I lay back and watched the scene unfolding in the ceiling mirror. Yet despite her increasingly urgent wanking of my erect shaft and her more tender caresses of my tenderised balls, the cumulative effects of the day were conspiring against me and I had to tell her that I couldn’t reach a climax. Again I had that contemptuous look, more fleeting this time, before she accepted defeat and suggested that I bring myself off. I declined, explaining that I had never been able to cum on the first visit to a new Mistress.

I was led into the bathroom and soaped down my cock and tried to clean off the remainder of her urine from my rubber catsuit before zipping myself up and walking downstairs, aware of the stares of the other two slaves as I headed down. I put my street clothes back on as she gave me her private number to use in booking future sessions – she had little doubt that I’d be back! – and let me out, smiling a goodbye as she closed and bolted the door.

I stumbled down the street back to my car. It had been quite a day!

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