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Storycodes: F/m; D/s; latex; catsuit; hood; sleepsack; bdsm; nipple; cbt; bond; foot; tease; torment; ws; denial; mast; oral; true; cons; XX
Visiting my Rubber Mistresses 3: Mistress Terri
This time I decided on a different approach – I would email my next Mistress, setting out my needs and seeing whether this sparked an interest. Little did I know quite how deep the interest would be, or how long I would spend suffering at her hands!
Dear Mistress Terri
I am emailing you as a result of reading your website, which I found extremely interesting because it refers to a number of my interests, and especially because you make it clear that you cater for Rubberists. I am therefore setting out some details about myself and my interests and asking you to consider allowing me to experience a session with you.
For many years I have had a very strong interest in rubber, which has developed more recently into a fetish for total rubber enclosure (often in layers of heavy rubber) and a need for rubber bondage and domination - which has led to me visiting three different Mistresses for around 10 sessions over the last year or so.
Turning to my hopes for how a session with you might develop, I would like to arrive dressed (discreetly, of course!) in one of my rubber catsuits and to wear it throughout the session - it would of course be wonderful if you were to be dressed in rubber too - and I would like you to subject me to some rubber bondage using your bondage bed and rubber bondage bag, with some CBT before strapping me in for a paddling and then making me suck your strap-on before using it on my arse. Finally, I would like to be allowed to receive one of your golden showers to complete my humiliation.
I've gone into some detail because I wanted to assure you that I'm genuine in asking for a session with you, and to give you a clear idea of my interests and limits. I hope that this is helpful for you in deciding whether to offer me a session.
I look forward very much to hearing from you.
I sat back and waited … and waited. Repeatedly I found myself drawn back to check my inbox for incoming emails. And at last I had a reply:
Thank you for your e-mail. I would love to session with you, you sound like my "cup of tea". I too am into rubber and go in the rubber body bag myself, well, now and again..... it’s a weakness of mine. Haha.
I obviously have a full wardrobe of my own rubber too, can’t live without the stuff. I think it would be a good idea for you to come session with me in the day time for your first session with me............. from noon until 4 or 5pm..... then if we click....... I will invite you back to do an over night session. I will of course need you to be very discreet, coming to chambers with rubber on.......... I find that all very exciting knowing you are wearing it underneath........ this is why I just know we will get on.
Can’t wait to hear from you, Mistress Terri x
I wasn’t able to ring her until Friday, then rang as early as I felt possible. We arranged a date and I asked how long the session would be.
“Shall we say 12 until 5?”
I gulped involuntarily, amazed how fast this was going. “Er … yes!”
“What’s the longest session you’ve done before?”
“About two and a half hours.”
“Right, so you’ll find this quite a long one. OK, you’ll need to ring me at 11 on Wednesday to confirm the session, and I’ll let you have the details of where my chambers are then.”
I hadn’t expected any further contact until the morning of my session, but on Monday (at 1 a.m.!) I received another email:
I knew you were genuine, as soon as I read your e-mail, I never doubted you for a second. I am seeing you Wednesday. It will be amazing......
I adore rubber and am a rubberist myself. I also adore bondage, so I can’t wait to meet you.
Talk soon, Mistress Terri x
I emailed back on the same day, at 8 a.m. (while wearing three layers of rubber – purple Bermudas with penis sheath and anal rod, plum catsuit with through-crotch zip and red catsuit with shoulder-entry zips) just confirming that I’d ring her on Wednesday …
* * * * *
It was with unusually heightened nervous anticipation that I parked my car and walked through the tunnel under the main railway line, arriving outside the unassuming terraced house with a couple of minutes to spare. Was it really wise to put myself at the mercy of a woman I’d never met, letting her encase me in rubber and place me in stringent bondage for five hours?
It was a little late to back out now, however, so I rang the bell and waited. I was waved into the house by a woman in her thirties, conservatively dressed and smiling. We walked down the hallway, past a girl sitting sewing at a table, and upstairs to the front bedroom, which appeared to be the only room in the house where anything out of the ordinary happened: the bed looked innocuous enough but the rest of the furniture crowding the room was anything but standard issue. As I looked around I took in a steel cage, a leather-covered throne, a St Andrews Cross and a table with assorted tools of the trade.
Smirking a little, Mistress Terri ordered me to strip to my rubber catsuit. She stroked it gently, asking me where I’d bought it and seeming impressed that it had come from Cocoon. She brought over a rubber body bag, dropping it on the floor and helping me to wriggle my feet into the constricted space at the bottom before pushing my arms into the internal sleeves and helping me to position myself correctly in the heavy rubber bag, its thick black rubber gleaming in the subdued light. She tugged at the thick unyielding rubber, dragging it up my body as I lay helplessly on my stomach, then turned her attention to the attached hood, encasing my head in thick and slightly damp rubber and zipping the hood tightly closed. Finally my Mistress helped me to turn over so that I lay on my back, and zipped up the body bag itself, the rubber of my own catsuit disappearing inside a second layer of tightly constricting latex.
Mistress Terri looked down at me, caressing the rubber as I lay sweating in nervous anticipation, realising how vulnerable I was and expecting her to turn her attentions to some CBT. First, though, she unbuttoned the two nipple flaps on the body bag and reached inside to open the nipple zips on my catsuit. Somewhat roughly she grasped my nipples – which were just as sensitive as in my previous sessions with various Mistresses – and noted my reaction with obvious satisfaction.
“My, you are tense, aren’t you?” she purred, her fingers teasing the rapidly erecting nubs as I squirmed beneath her. I could only groan out an incoherent reply as her fingers continued to torture my sensitive nipples. Then, as she continued to twist and tweak my left nipple, her other hand traced a path down over the tightly constricting rubber, caressing my chest, my stomach and then my crotch. My cock stiffened at her gentle touch, straining to escape its latex prison. It didn’t have long to wait: Mistress Terri tugged at the crotch zip on my catsuit before drawing my prick through the opening and out into the fresh air.
My Mistress smirked as she worked her hand up and down my hardening shaft, watching as my tumescent cock lengthened and then raking her nails torturously along the shaft, paying particular attention to the purplish cock-head which was now thrusting upwards. Then she abandoned my cock, leaving it to wave about helplessly as she returned to my nipples, tweaking them painfully and pulling them through the openings in my rubber catsuit. Mistress Terri divided her attention between nipples, catsuit and cock, caressing the rubber and playing with my private parts, causing little pain but relaxing me as her hands moved up and down the rubber body bag, the sensations thrilling me as I gazed upwards at her.
All that changed when Mistress Terri picked up a braided whip and, standing up to get a more effective swing at me, rained down a series of blows on my rubber-covered body, starting at my chest – the leather strands falling directly on my exposed nipples – and then working down to whip my thighs as I gasped in surprise and no little pain. Worse was to follow as she trailed the whip across my cock, at first gently but then with increasing force so that my rigid shaft jerked about in response to each solid contact. I struggled ineffectually in my tight rubber bondage, but at least had the effect of signalling to my Mistress that she should ease back, and she spent some time trailing the strands of black leather around my cock and balls.
“There, you’re settled now” she said. “Now it’s time for me to change into rubber!”
My cock surged in anticipation as she said this, so the disappointment was crushing when she blindfolded me before leaving the room – though I quickly found that the blindfold was not completely effective and I could see well enough to recognise in the overhead mirror a securely bound black form lying submissively for his Mistress’s return. I lay for several minutes, the sweat trickling pleasurably over my rubber-clad body and settling beneath me as I contemplated my situation.
At last Mistress Terri reappeared, now in a black rubber mini-dress with the tops of her ample breasts exposed in an erotically revealing cut-out. She dropped to her haunches and immediately grasped my cock, wanking it to full erection and then toying with it before finally reaching beneath me to grasp my balls and knead them firmly in her hand. Just as I grew accustomed to this attack on my obscenely exposed cock and balls, she picked up a new instrument of torture – a rake, which she proceeded to draw up and down my shaft! The pain was exquisite yet left me moaning in desperate agony, especially when she moved in on the ultra-sensitive cockhead and raked it repeatedly. I looked up and saw her grinning in delight as I shifted helplessly in my bonds, almost unable to cope with the effects of the trailing spikes on my turgid prick.
And when this pain ceased, it was quickly replaced by more suffering as Mistress Terri retuned her attack to my exposed nipples, twisting and pulling them and then drawing the taut thick rubber of catsuit and body bag across them. She leaned closer to me as she worked on my nipples, her rubber-clad arms and body only inches from my hooded face, the black latex gleaming dully in the subdued light. Worse still, she then picked up evil looking nipple clamps, laying them on the rubber body bag and kneeling over me, her bare upper breasts swaying over me as she fixed the clamps onto my pink nubs.
Pain exploded as the tight metal jaws of the clamps fastened around the tips of my nipples and I gasped out in intense suffering, begging her to take them off as quickly as she’d fastened them. Mistress Terri looked down contemptuously at me, but after a few seconds she relented, saying “It’s good to try them, though” as she slowly opened the jaws and removed the clamps. After a few seconds of pure agony the torment began to subside and I thanked her sincerely for her generosity towards her pathetic slave.
Her generosity didn’t last long, however, as she suddenly stood up and put one foot on my chest, pressing down until I gasped in pain, then balancing carefully and standing on me, her full weight pinning my rubber-clad body to the floor. I had seen pictures of dominant women in this position of course, but never experienced the pain or the feeling of total submission that overwhelmed me. Mistress Terri carefully walked up and down my chest and stomach, before placing one foot calmly onto my cock, mercifully resting only some of her weight on the abused organ before stepping lightly off my quaking body.
Once again I was left alone to contemplate my fate, sealed in two layers of thick, black and damp rubber, with my cock and nipples protruding through openings and hence available for further abuse. I tried to track the passage of time but could hear and make out so little that this proved impossible. I shifted slightly in my bonds, lifting my feet and then turning my torso slightly to keep my circulation going. I tested the interior sleeves of the body bag but it was quickly clear that my arms were securely pinned to my sides: there was no escape.
Mistress Terri returned to her chamber after what seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes, this time carrying an ice cube which she let me drink from – then pressed against my cock, leaving me yelping in shock and suffering as the cold ice deflated my shaft quickly. Not for long though – my Mistress worked it back towards stiffness with her probing fingers, then continued the (by now inevitable) process of cock and ball torture, tying a sheath around my cock and then attaching clips to my balls and aching shaft. Once the clips were in place she caressed my tortured tool, rattling the clips around and sending new waves of agony through my genitalia.
Now she stood, resplendent in the black rubber dress, and picked up the whip again, spending a little time chastising my chest and nipples before concentrating lower down, lazily whipping my inner thighs and then my cock, the clips seemingly pressed still further into my agonized cock flesh as she repeatedly swung the braided whip and brought the black leather down against my shaft. After a while she put the whip down and picked up a small paddle, drumming it against my prick, each contact producing a satisfying slapping sound of rubber on flesh and a gasp of agony from her rubber catsuited and bagged slave.
Next my Mistress alternated between the two instruments of torture, whipping my cock for a while and then paddling it. It made little difference to me: my cock responded equally to the sharp bursts of pain! Then she asked me to tell her which implement she was using …
“Paddle or whip?”
“Aaah! Whip, Mistress! Aaarghh!”
“Very good, slave!”
I thought better of telling her that I could see enough to differentiate – though in truth the slapping action of the paddle contrasted enough with the slashing, layered effect of the whip for me to have told the two apart if the blindfold had been properly applied.
Again my rubber-clad dominatrix left me alone, sweating in the increasingly tight-fitting black rubber body bag, my feet beginning to suffer as the two layers of rubber restricted movement to the minimum. The pain in my feet, my tightly-trussed arms and my thighs was beginning to outweigh the pleasure of the damply clasping latex cocoon. I lay supinely and suffered; again time passed slowly and I drifted into a semi-aware state, sweat dripping down my body, my mind brought back into sharp focus only by the tension in my trapped feet.
Once again Mistress Terri reappeared, squatting down beside me, one hand on my cock but the other holding a lit cigarette. She looked off into the distance as her fingers urged my cock to erection yet again, her nails digging into the sensitive flesh around my testicles and then dragging upwards along my shaft to toy with my engorged, ugly cockhead. Then she began to work in earnest on my shaft, her fingers sliding urgently up and down along its length. My cock responded automatically, expanding to its full girth and pulsing in readiness for ejaculation. I groaned: one more wank and I would be shooting jets of boiling hot semen forcefully over the black rubber body bag encasing me…
She stopped. I groaned in disbelief and frustration, the purplish knob of my angry-looking cock waving about and still pulsing but now beginning to wilt slightly. I looked at Mistress Terri, her rubber-clad body rippling as she sat beside me, smirking at my frustration and humiliation – brought to the brink by a dominant bitch but left hanging.
I was left to calm down for a couple of minutes, then told that my time in the body bag was at an end. Mistress Terri unzipped the hood, then helped me to roll and struggle my way out of the body bag, easing my arms out of the internal sleeves and then my aching feet out of the depths of the tight black rubber. I stood shakily as she handed me a towel, ordering me to dry my face and hair; then I simply stood, cowed and broken, my damp rubber catsuit glistening and my cock poking half-heartedly out of the crotch opening.
Mistress Terri sat on the bed, ordering me to kneel and then massage and kiss her feet. I fell eagerly to my knees, keen to pay homage to my Mistress but at the same time relieved to escape further punishment for a while. I kissed her feet repeatedly, then looked up in surprise as she rolled over on the bed, her rubber-covered arse uppermost, and instructed me to perform the same tasks there.
I reached out and grasped her arse, delightfully clad in tight black rubber, and kneaded her arse cheeks, smoothing my hand over the rubber and then massaging her latex-covered flesh. “You’ve done this before!” she exclaimed and I flushed in embarrassment and pleasure, massaging a little longer before moving forward and extending my tongue, licking and kissing the black shiny rubber in front of me. For two or three minutes I held her rubber-clad bottom, kissing her arse and losing myself in latex subservience.
Roughly she pushed me away and I remained kneeling as she fetched a rubber hood and drew it down over my face, sealing me once more in tight black latex. She ordered me to lie on the bed and grip the bars as she sat astride me, masturbating my cock until it was fully erected and pointed towards me. Then she shifted forwards, her rubber-clad arse just below my cock so that it looked almost as if it was sprouting from her rather than me.
We both looked awestruck into the full-length wall mirror, the bizarre sight of the pulsating pink-and-purple cock trapped between two black rubber-clad bodies capturing our attention.
“It looks like it’s mine now” she muttered, half to herself. “I’ve always wanted one.”
The wistful look on her face convinced me that she was serious, and that my best course of action was to say nothing.
She clambered off me then, chaining my wrists and ankles to the bed – once again her breasts, dangerously close to breaking free from the low-cut rubber dress, dangled provocatively above my latex-hooded face as she reached over to trap my left wrist – and returning to a routine I knew well now, of cock and nipple torture, mainly with the whip trailing across and then exploding into my shaft. I moaned and writhed, the leather strands beating a tattoo on my sore cockshaft, then relaxed for a while as she again left the chamber for a few minutes.
My catsuit was dripping wet inside now, my body sliding inside the rubber as I tested my bonds and found them secure. I lay waiting until Mistress Terri returned, then endured a further cock-whipping and renewed caressing of my rubber-sheathed chest and thighs, together with another assault on my aching nipples. Then, to m amazement, Mistress Terri took off her rubber knickers and wrapped them round my cock, using them to masturbate me and drive me towards a long-awaited climax.
This process was repeated several times – I was left alone, then assaulted with the whip across my cock, then wanked hard with my Mistress’s hand wrapped in rubber knickers which were repeatedly returned to and then stripped from her cunt. Each time I was left unmilked, the rubber-clad dominatrix ceasing her masturbation just as I began to feel the semen gathering ready for my cock to explode. As I whimpered in frustration she leant over me, her rubber dress sliding against my catsuit, and laughed at my predicament. On the final occasion she shocked me again, stripping the rubber hood from my head and then sliding it over her own face. I looked up at my Mistress, now fully clad in rubber, her hooded face looking down at me as she whipped my cock with real purpose, then took her latex knickers off again and, wrapping the thin black rubber around my cock, wanked me hard before again leaving me gasping and unsatisfied.
At last I was unchained and scrambled to my feet as she laid on the bed and ordered me to lie across her lap, my hands on the bed, my arse above hers and my feet awkwardly on the floor.
“I’m not going to paddle you – I’m going to spank you with my bare hand” she announced.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
Methodically she brought her hand down on my rubber-clad buttocks, each stroke bringing a grunt of pain as the noise of flesh on rubber echoed around the chamber. I felt helpless and humiliated, no longer strapped down but still utterly subservient to this dominatrix in a black rubber dress. After each six strokes I thanked her for putting me though this shameful experience.
“You’ve got a girl’s bottom!” she sneered, increasing my sense of embarrassment still further.
“Yes, Mistress. I’m sorry, Mistress” I whimpered, as the force of her spanking gradually increased. My cock poked nakedly through the opening in my rubber catsuit, and lay thrillingly on the skirt of her black rubber dress. I hoped that it was not leaving a drooling trail of pre-cum as it jerked with each stroke to my battered arse.
“Where have your other Mistresses pissed on you?” she asked, with humiliating directness.
“Mostly on my cock and (here I embroidered the truth a little) the final bit in my mouth” I replied.
With that she gave me a final six strokes with her hand, delivered with maximum force, my rubber-clad buttocks vibrating as I tried to absorb the pain without calling out for mercy.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
She rolled me off her lap and I kneeled in front of her. She pushed me onto a rubber mat in the centre of the room, facing upwards and looking up her rubber dress to her furry cunt. She stood astride my cock, encouraging me to look as she let loose a cascade of warm piss, the urine spattering down onto my cock and spraying my black rubber catsuit. I shuddered as my cock responded to the hot salty shower, stiffening as I lay there and indulged in the obscene but highly erotic game of watersports.
“Do you like your Mistress’s warm piss, slave?” she taunted me.
“Yes, thank you Mistress – very much.”
She laughed, the stream slowing to a trickle, still focused on my naked cock, which jerked each time a drop landed on it. Then she moved up my body and turned to face my cock, lowering herself down until her cunt was just above my face. “In that case you can suck my knickers dry!” she announced.
She sat on my face and to my disappointment I saw that her cunt was indeed shielded from me by a pair of drenched latex knickers, the piss dripping down to land on my nose and run down my face. I stuck out my tongue and licked her knickers, revolted by the taste of the yellowish fluid.
“Suck!” she shouted.
There was nothing else I could do – I opened my mouth and sucked her panties, the smell and taste nauseating as I drank down her cooling piss. I managed to attack the soaked rubber for a couple of minutes, her piss coating my face as I drank more down. But my enthusiasm waned …
“Suck, I said!” she shouted again.
As I continued to suck her wet panties she reached down and started once again to masturbate my cock. For a while it responded, lengthening and stiffening as her fingers worked up and down, but it became clear that I had reached the limit of my endurance, and with some reluctance she climbed off me and let me stand up.
“Let’s see how long you lasted” she said, walking to check her watch. Her tone was softer now that the session had finished. She turned round, smiling broadly. “Four hours and thirty-five minutes – that’s really good!” I managed a rueful smile in return – I was exhausted, drained, desperately thirsty. I dressed quickly as she stripped off her black rubber dress, thanked her for an amazing session and left – certain that I would be back.
Back at home – and after a few days to recover – I emailed Mistress Terri to say how much I’d enjoyed the session and how I’d recovered, still cocooned in my rubber catsuit, over a pint or two in a nearby pub. She soon wrote back: “It’s always good to hear that a true rubberist enjoys his sessions. You did so well under my torment – how or why you managed for so long I do not know. It is also good that I’ve given you something to think about for days – that warm glowing seed planted deep within your psyche where all good escapists’ thoughts are nurtured. It would be a pleasure to session with you again. I imagine you in the pub with your rubber catsuit on underneath your clothing. Not a soul knowing, while you relax! It makes me smile – I like the way you think …”
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