Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

The Wishing Stone 3: Rebirth

by Darqside

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2006 - Darqside - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; latex; slave; magic; transform; cons; X

story continued from part 2

The Wishing Stone Part 3: Rebirth

I missed it.

I missed all of it.

It started harmlessly enough.  Samantha and I have been very happy in Marriage for the past 3 years, we still joked about it now and again.  She even teased me a little for still letting that ‘little stone’ bother me.  She’d even taken to ‘hiding the mirrors’ and using her com pack more often.  I didn’t think much of it at the time.

It was during an afternoon when we were deciding to go to a movie…one of those very formal affairs.  I was about to put on my darkest grey suit, just for the occasion.

She had to wear it, didn’t she?  She had to drive me over the edge.

The black and red rubber Furisode kimono…complete with wooden sandals and black hairpins for formal attire.

Her vision of beauty almost knocked me over…I felt myself begin to lose my composure completely.  Of course I hid it very well but…the smell of rubber latex and the combination of black and red entranced me.

As if sensing something was wrong, she retorted, “Cool your jets, John, we haven’t even left the door yet.”

The night went on uneventful aside from the movie, I watched, but I could feel a small surge at the pit of my stomach.  I was just so distracted I couldn’t enjoy myself.

That night we kissed before heading off to bed and I found myself caressing her hair and ears ever so gently.

“Well this is new…” she commented.  “Usually you’re so dead set on getting directly into me you don’t do subtle stuff like this.”

“I’m not sure why…it just felt natural somehow…” without much thought on it, we turned out the light and went to sleep.

But I couldn’t sleep.  That swell in my abdomen got bigger, and the more I tried to ignore it, the more it burned inside me.

I must’ve been tossing and turning because my wife touched my shoulder, “Honey, what’s the matter…you’ve been fidgety all since this afternoon, what’s got you all so worked up?”

“It’s that damn rubber…” I mumbled.  “It’s driving me crazy…”

“What?  That Japanese Ensemble I wore?  If it turned you on so much why didn’t you say so?”

“It’s…it’s not that, Sam…” I calmly turned the light back on…but I could feel beads of sweat hanging in large drops across my forehead.  This thing, whatever it was, was taking hold and not letting go.

“You’re thinking about that stupid Wishing Stone again, aren’t you?” Her voice turned angry.  “I hid that thing from you so that you wouldn’t be tempted by it, remember?”

“I know, I know!” I sighed, “I can’t help it…it’s been 3 years since then, but it’s just so hard to get it out of my mind…”

“Honey…” her voice turned soft again, “You know I love you…and you know because of that I’ll do anything to make you happy…you got your wish!” she hugged me and caressed my face to calm me down.  She always did that whenever I got excited over something…and it always seemed to work…except for now.

“Dear…I love you with all my heart…but something is…wrong with me.” I had said finally.  “I feel like I’m addicted to it somehow…like this won’t let me go…”

I got up out of bed abruptly and went into the bathroom…perhaps I could wash my face and hands of the thoughts buried deep in my mind.

It caught me by surprise in realization that there was no mirror in the bathroom.  For two whole years I never thought about it…not even once.  I decided to do what I always did whenever something was bothering me…I started shaving.

Applying the shaving cream liberally, I picked up my razor to find my right hand was shaking.  I felt so nervous about it I put the razor down and stared at the sink.

After a while I started shaving again…but before I was a few strokes in, the razor broke and fell on the floor with a plop.

I bent down to pick it up when something tugged at me…I didn’t know what it was, but the cabinet beneath the sink seemed to be drawing me closer.

The bathroom door was shut, so Samantha had most likely assumed I was in here taking care of my business.  As some kind of impulsive gesture, I flushed the toilet…so as to give her the impression I was doing something other than what I was currently doing…snooping.

Over the noise of the flush, I quickly slid the cabinet open.  Lots of cleaning chemicals were down there, old boxes of soap, and backup rolls of toilet paper.  Something was down there…calling me…begging me.

I must’ve touched some sort of panel, because a block of cement with a cover on it rose up from the floor.  The size of the little cement box, plus the elaborate means of its being hidden, I had no doubt in my mind what it was.

Quickly I pressed the cement box down in its hidden compartment in the cabinet and slid the door shut.  Rinsed my face…shaving just didn’t seem to do it for me anymore, and went to bed, despite my nervousness.

I wasn’t getting any sleep naturally any time soon, so I went to the kitchen where we store our medicines and got two sleeping pills.  Thankfully they worked as I hit my pillow with confidence in my sleep.  I could still feel my right hand nervously twitch…and I could still feel it…deep inside me…festering.

The next day I had to meet two clients for an art exhibition we were collaborating on. So my mind was able to clear itself for the most part, of the events from the previous day.

We were going over several of my pieces, both old and new, trying to determine which ones would go up in the gallery and where.

“John…you have to tell me where you got the inspiration to draw these exquisite Final Woman pieces…”

“Excuse me?” The words jerked me out of my previous thoughts.

“You know…that old college project you did, The Final Woman.  Those drawings are some of the best I’ve seen…I just want to know what inspired you.”

“My wife actually…” I responded.

“She must be quite the looker…you’re a pretty lucky guy.” My client smiled and then started sorting more of my other artwork for display.

“I suppose I am…” My mind drifted off to how we had first met, and how things spiraled out of control for at least a year.  My thoughts drifted towards the object that could grant my heart’s desire… It was calling me again.  And this time, I knew where it was.

“John…what are you doing in the kitchen?”  My wife called, she definitely had an irresistible sexy voice.  I loved her so much it hurt.

I was running a blender on puree…the fluid grinded until it turned light pink.

“Making a fruit smoothie…you want one?”  I calmly asked.

Every once in a while I made various health drinks.  Usually it was so that I stayed in shape, but sometimes I mixed various ingredients as either an Aphrodisiac or just for something fun to drink, sometimes both.

“Mmm…looks good, sure!”

I poured the pink contents into a glass and handed it to her.  “Hope you like it…It’s a strawberry flavor mixed with some other fruits and healthy stuff.”

Pursing her lips together she drank the contents, first sipping, and then downing it.

“Wow…that stuff is good!  You’re pretty good at making smoothies!” she smiled her perfect smile that I adored.

“Glad you like it…” I said.

Her eyes began to flutter, “For…some reason…I’m getting....sleepy.”

I could tell she was getting light-headed.  She began to teeter for a few moments, and then fell backwards…I caught her soft body before she hit the ground.

“Soon…my eternal love.” I smiled.

The contents of the smoothie contained a dose of fast-acting sleeping pills, combined with a very effective Aphrodisiac I had concocted…it would not only bring her into the mood, but also loosen up her muscles from being able to function for a while.

I had much to do in the next few hours.  So I set about preparing.

When she finally awoke several hours later, she was lying in our bed, stripped naked, with leather straps tied firmly to her arms, legs, hips, and waist.  She was groggy at first but when her eyes opened, I greeted her with a smile.

“Hello my dear.” I said, my voice was brimming with excitement.

“What…the…what’s going on…?”

“My beloved Wife…” I crooned, “Before you say anything, know that I will always love you, and will always take care of you, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, so long as we both shall live…which at this point will be for quite a long time.”

“What kind of…sick joke is this, John?  What are you doing?”

“It’s your own fault you know…” I began, “You insisted on wearing that unforgettable kimono and insisted on keeping all those beautiful rubber things in the house.  Oh certainly you never wore them much, but you always kept them…always reminded me…always tortured me.”

I stepped out for a moment.  I wheeled it in for her to see and to treasure.

“My mother’s mirror?  You…you got it from the attic?” her eyes were wide, but her motor skills were still betraying her.

“Ah…I see you remember…this is what made it all possible.  It is the key to unlocking my greatest and most profound desire.  That desire is inside of you…sleeping…it fell asleep when you broke free…but now I’m going to wake it up again…and this time…”

I smiled devilishly, “This time…you’ll sleep forever.”

Her eyes widened in terror…she started struggling against her bonds but she was securely placed on the bed.

“Those bed straps bring such sweet memories, don’t you think?” I grinned.

“Why are you doing this?” She cried, “You know I love you…you know I’d make you happy!”

I walked up to her flawless body, “It’s precisely why I’m doing this…you do love me…and you will make me happy…eternally happy.”

She continued to strain, but her body was too weak from the pills.  Teasing her a little, I touched the outline of her pussy…it was aroused, and I could tell that deep down she was enjoying this.  The Aphrodisiac was taking effect, to be sure.

“D-damn you!” she screamed, “You’ll never…get away…with this!”  Her strains were futile through and through.  All she could do was curse at me.

I stood quietly over by the mirror as she struggled…sat down at the bed between her legs, and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

“There’s an old saying my dear…” I said, “When it comes to sex, make sure you’re prepared with a rubber…and also…when you’re married, there are no rules regarding sex!”

In my pocket, I pulled out the Wishing Stone…its soft beautiful glimmer reminded me of my Wife’s wet pussy.  I nearly choked on it once before because I was unwilling to make my wishes…but not this time.

The truth of the matter was that I had many wishes to make.  And this time I had come prepared.

“Wishing Stone,” I addressed it, “I wish I and my beloved Wife were eternally at the peak of our sexual youth.”

A single white flash, quick, precise, and granted.

I felt my pulse quicken.  My heart was racing.  My wife moaned softly on the bed.

Blemishes, sunspots, even old cuts, scars, and bruises faded away.  My wish was granted… I was of course the same, peak physical condition I had been when I was in College…and nothing could stop me…but I was far from finished.  I glanced in the mirror, my beloved wife looked the tender age of 18, and her figure had shrunk considerably as she had gotten younger.  She was beginning to get wet as her libido kicked in, but it wasn’t quite there yet. 

With all my heart I looked at the reflection in the mirror and prayed to the stone.

“I wish that my beloved Wife would, now and forevermore, become eternally my lusting and climaxing rubbery bride and goddess-slave for me and only me…eternally the Final Woman …eternally unmerged and un-replicated…eternally dedicated to sex with me…my own…my only…Pussy Slave!”

The stone flashed once again, and almost like the firing of a gun…my Wife’s body convulsed with ecstasy.

“No!!!” She screamed…but her consciousness and will were fading to nothing.

I watched in pure rapture as her mind was slowly taken from her…from sanity to insanity…from dedicated love…to eternal lust.

I proceeded to insert several clauses into my Wish…first that Samantha’s will be gone forever, even in her subconscious…second that Pussy Slave would be in total control of her body…but yet under my total control…third that Pussy Slave could not make Wishes with the Wishing Stone…fourth that Pussy Slave, even though in her Final Woman Rubber Goddess form, could never merge with anyone or duplicate herself and try to overcome the Wishing Stone’s power like she had in the past.

The stone responded by flashing rapidly for each clause I inserted…burning them into the woman formerly known and forever not known as Samantha Reese’s body, my beloved eternal slave/wife/rubber-goddess.  Each clause seemed to hit her body with such orgasmic force she jerked violently on the bed, her hair spilling out in every direction.

I watched with excited bliss as her body began to change once more.  The black rubbery cum had returned and was pumping out of her body at full force.  Her trembling and convulsing shook the bed with deep heavy thumps.

So as to enjoy the spectacle further, I released her from the straps…and she instantly curled up into a fetal position…as if being reborn.

The rubber fluid exited her own natural pussy in a flood…climbing up her abdomen and into the crack of her anus.  The stuff was very quick to envelop her, much faster than the previous transformation.  Perhaps it had something to do with me stripping her of her will.

The black substance slithered its way across her legs and down her ankles, merging in between her toes…the rubber cum began to gather there…forming the flawlessly seamless tip-toe rubber ballet-boot 10-inch heels I had come to love so well…

Something was different however…as the sides of the heel now had the added feature of the no-slip grip substance I had enjoyed from her other lovely obsidian limbs. I could grab her ankles without much effort and hold her in an upside-down position for as long as I wanted.  Also the 10-inch en point heels appeared to twitch, stretch, and change in thickness…as though I could make my beloved rubber goddess as tall as I wanted while still retaining her elegant and almost painful sense of balance.  The black rubber heels and toes of each ballet-boot clicked together rhythmically, like the bill of a duck as she orgasmically convulsed through her transformation.

She was becoming more and more enjoyable every minute.  The black cum slid quickly into her anus and began to merge her cheeks once again…the black shiny rubber ball ass I had become so enraptured with previously had returned.  I patted it with a glee as it shined and took conformed shape softly and easily when I pressed into it.

The rubber material around her leggings quickly began to lock her knees to a solid stance once again, forcing her to eternally bend at her round bubble-butt hips or do the splits.  I nearly came right there just watching the transformation.

Her crotch had virtually disappeared in the black flow, and so I found myself watching as the torrent of dark cum flood her body.  The cum gathered up around her navel in thick waves, then proceeded past it and up the back, quickly climbing upward, past the breasts, around the shoulders and up the neck to stop there.

The corset formed itself quickly; as her breath was squeezed out of her…it had the same familiar no-slip grip surface on the sides and back all the way down to the hips and length of the legs and heels.  The smooth yet graspable surface created tight rings around the enlarged and protruding breasts.  I watched in absolute pleasure as her waist and hips tightened and hardened to a thick black rubber, this time it was her hips that had a slight hardness to them which came in strips of hardness in the front, but flexibility at the sides, forcing her not only to bend with the pelvis, but also acted like a natural hobble.  The thick rubber strips kept her thighs from being able to bend upward no more than 10 inches without some effort and resistance.  Meaning that if she wanted to sit down, as impossible as that was…she would have to forcibly bend her knees and stretch the rubber of that incredibly sexy bulbous ass, it was either that or she did the splits…which the rubber provided no resistance for…

In fact…as it appeared, the rubber appeared to have some kind of kink in it near the crotch…I hardly knew what it was for…but out of curiosity I spread her legs apart.  A gentle pop was heard and the kinks in the crotch was gone…I applied pressure on her legs to close…but they were stuck in an extremely durable V-shape.  The possibility for her being unable to close her legs made for an incredible discovery for me. 

The leg-locks were two-fold: one found along the crotch near the top of the legs…and a kink on both sides of the hips.  Pressing the hips together locked her legs and hips in an unmovable parallel position.  The only way possible for the V-lock, and the Straight-Lock to be unlocked was found in the form of two small square switches at the base of her left pointed ballet-boot heel…because of how long her legs were in relation to her arms, and the unwieldy unbending at her knees, it would be nigh impossible for her to reach the switches by herself. She wouldn’t be able to even reach the bottom of her heels if she twisted them behind her head as her legs were that unbendable.  Also, near as I could tell, the V-shaped lock could only allow her to further do the splits; it provided absolute resistance the other way.

I continued to watch as her rubber body took shape and form…the tendrils wrapped themselves gingerly around her arms and hands…forming the same familiar rubber gauntlets I had seen before…the grip-strips…as I had started calling them formed themselves on the backs of her hands, forearm, and the sides of her arms…meaning easy grasping of her arms…

Yet another set of kinks formed, this time in her arms.  I discovered that bending her arms up over her shoulder just a bit beyond 45 degree angles resulted in locking the shoulder, upper arm, elbow, forearm, and wrist into straight unmovable tubes…only the fingers were still able to move.   Basically if she was to pull her arms or have them be pulled up over her head, the mechanism would pop and lock her arms in an unforgiving rubber tube.  The tube would force them to fall at her sides, not able to move.

I checked once again and sure enough, the mechanism could only be released by her impossibly unreachable ballet-boot heels.  This, combined with the other barely-visible mechanisms meant that she could instantly be transformed into a paralyzed living rubber doll at any time, released only by me.  I looked at the heels and counted that there were 7 panels designed for 7 different locks on her body.  Apparently I had only discovered the first two…I could only anticipate what would occur with the remaining five.

By this time the sexiest rubber fingernails had finished forming on her hands, the color still a deep solid black.  The color would have to wait however, as her neck’s rubber had just finished forming and was slowly working its way across the back of her skull…resurrecting the long black rubbery hair I had missed for so long.

The hair extended once again all the way down to her sexy butt, and was still as rubber-band stretchy as ever.  I could tell it was longer than before, particularly in the middle. The rubber goddess hair had a slight swish to it…meaning her hair would swish between her legs whenever she walked anywhere.  The rubber hair was the only hair on her body, meaning no eyebrows, pussy hair, or other parts…just flawless shiny black rubber to be pulled forever.  Even the hair on her own head had a high sexy rubber crest on it, meaning its natural shape was that of a thick black-haired bombshell, removing the need to sweep the hair from her face, better than any hairspray.

By then her face was encased in the rubbery goodness for a time, and during which time I decided to find out what the remaining five panels were for.  I discovered that one of the locks wasn’t really a lock per se…but that it created small loose curls near the bottom of her hair, making it all the easier to grab and tug.  Pressing the panel again straightened the hair out perfectly again.

The hair itself was once again flawless.  It would never shed, split, or get tangled by itself.  The hair was obviously alive and obviously an object solely for my enjoyment.

One by one, parts of her body popped in and out…faces formed where they were originally, and the all-too-famous Pussy-Cock had returned.  Her fingernails turned a deep red rubber color, which triggered the change of the red rubbery lips on her ears, mouth, breasts, navel, anus, and her pussy-cock itself.

She looked perfect.  And by the time she had fully formed, her black eyes all around her body fluttered open, followed by the familiar squeaking inhale of air inside each pussy-mouth and pussy-nose.

My goddess had returned, and she came back better than ever.

“…M-…Master?” Her voice squeaked with pleasure.  She was a walking creature of pleasure…and her body was indeed a sight to behold.

Quickly and quietly she slid herself off the bed and stood.  I moved aside as she slowly became alluringly entranced with her new form in the mirror.

“Master…Pussy Slave is free again…” she said with an air of finality.

“Yes, you are my eternal Pussy Slave, now and forever.” I smiled.

“…Samantha…she is gone now, Master…but she told me to tell you that she will always love you…and she is sorry she wasn’t good enough to make you happy.”

“Yes…well she can rest in peace knowing her body will always make me happy, because now, Pussy Slave, it is your body…and you will forever enjoy it, and forever enjoy me.”

“Oh Master!” In an orgasmic cry Pussy Slave ran to my arms and she hugged me.

Unbeknownst to her during the embrace however…I had lifted her arms ever so slightly to hear the familiar popping sound underneath her arm.  She would not notice until her arms dropped down and locked into place.  I proceeded to also squeeze her hips while pulling her hair.  The pop locked her legs in place like a statuette and her hair reeled back as she wailed in a rocket of blissful squeaking orgasm…the thousands of tiny pussy follicles had returned to her scalp…each and every one a blast of pleasure.

I released her from her desperate embrace to let her discover that she was no longer able to move.

“Master?” she wiggled in vain as her arms and legs, not to mention hips were unmovable.  I picked her up by the waist with its long sturdy grip-pads.  I discovered that despite the thick latex rubber encasing her body…she was incredibly light.

I placed her down on her back, her bubbly buttocks forcing her pelvis to jut upward.  She could feel the pressure on her anal pussy and wanted release from her newfound locked position.

“Let’s see…” I assessed, “Now that you’re new and improved, I want to find out exactly what all seven of these switches are for on your heels.  She playfully tried to kick away from me, but her feet couldn’t move a single inch as a result of the hip-lock.

“Pussy Slave can’t move, Master.  What is wrong with Pussy Slave?” she struggled…her snake-like Pussy-Cock was swaying about, trying to find both a way out and release of a different kind.

“Nothing is wrong my beloved Wife.”  I responded, “The locks are there just for you…and just for me.”

Surmising the first switch to release her legs from the V-shape, and the second to release her arms from the paralyzing tubes…the third was of course the release mechanism for her hip-lock which immobilized her legs from their parallel prison.  The fourth panel transformed her hair from straight to curly in mere moments…this apparently seemed to have an additional climaxing effect on her hair as she moaned with delight.

I proceeded with the fifth panel…and to my surprise and delight, her pussy-cock instantly became tall and erect, its lips opening with a wide familiar O.  Pussy Slave shuddered as the erection was forced upon her, and just as before, a small popping mechanism locked the Pussy-Cock with its long grip-pads along the sides and incredulously stretched clitoris into a tall 4 foot long pillar of pussy-cock goodness. 

I was so tempted to fuck her then, but felt I should concern myself with the task at hand.  My hand pressed the sixth panel on her heel, but nothing happened.

I was a little disappointed, but curiosity got the better off me.  Pressing the release mechanism on her legs, I allowed her to squirm a bit, frozen cock and arms and all.

I had an idea that would make this much more exciting.

“Pussy Slave…” I smiled deeply, “Would you like to come on top of me?”

She of course nodded eagerly.  I told her to hold her legs still, released her arms again from their locking mechanism.  I proceeded to lie down on the bed next to her.

She hungrily wanted to get on top of my exposed penis so much she was virtually delirious.  But since she had no means of bending at the knees without much effort, she was once again forced to do the splits, however…something was different this time.


“Huh?” she said as she came down on top of me.

I smiled and laughed.  She was unable to reach my penis as her own pussy-cock was paralyzed in permanent erection…and she had yet another problem on her hands: her legs were stuck in the V-shaped lock!

She tried to stand but found her en point heels weren’t made for balancing at odd angles.  And so with a squeaky sigh, she plopped down on her round rubber pussy-anus.

Only her arms were free, but this didn’t help much as the corset kept her on her back, but the V-shape lock kicked up her legs in the air at a slight angle kept her off balance, exposed, and vulnerable.  She tried pushing herself back up into at least a sitting position, but found that impossible as the shape of her round impervious bubble-butt kept her from regaining any balance she might have had, the center of gravity now lie on her navel-pussy.

“Master, what did you do to Pussy Slave now?” she squeaked in frustration.

“You did it to yourself,” I grinned.  “Now…what to do…” I wondered exactly what the sixth panel on her heel was for.  Pressing it down firmly and pushing upwards on her locked legs I felt yet another pop mechanism.  Her V-shaped legs were now even higher and there was absolutely no way of getting up off her back.

An idea clicked on in my head and I attempted to use the sixth panel once again.  I pushed upward on her hips again…once…twice…three times…

Her corset was bending and locking with each pop…ratcheting her extended pussy-cock closer and closer to the pussy in her navel.  In a fit of excitement and discovery, I ratcheted her hips all the way up to 10 pops.  Her legs were now extended in the v-shape past her head, exposing her round shiny pussy-anus…meanwhile the pussy-cock that was extended inserted itself neatly and perfectly into her navel-pussy, and with a wet pop…the two were now stuck inside one another!

She wiggled and rolled and tried to get back up on her back, but her hips were now pressing deep and hard across her pelvis, locking her in place.  She was in frustrated self-pleasure at this point, as she was unable to do anything about it except flail her arms about.  She tried reaching for the back of her heels to try and release the locking mechanism…but try as she might…even with her hands virtually close enough to do so…she was unable as the hyper-extended ballerina heels, when they had originally formed, extended her legs to nearly twice the length of her arms.  She wasn’t even able to touch her stiff heels…although the heels themselves wiggled and clicked together with the front of the toe-heel like an abstract toe.

I decided that I liked these locking mechanisms and proceeded to grab her rubber arms and pull them beyond her head…locking them once again at their joints.

She now had little choice to comply with what I had in mind for her.  Even though they were long paralyzed tubes, I discovered her arms also had small ratcheting properties.  Her shoulders could move forward and backward, along with her other joints.

It was almost as if she had become a Barbie doll of sorts.  Her fingers still wriggled, but that would only be for a little while, I determined.

I rolled her upwards onto the round of her pussy-anus while sweeping the rubber hair from her back to her front.  I proceeded to twist her arms upward at the base of the spine in reverse-prayer fashion.  She was not in pain in the least, as the rubber bone structure inside her body was as flexible and durable as could be.  The ratcheting mechanism instantly took hold of her joints as though she were hand-cuffed from behind.  Unable to move anything except her fingers, she giggled orgasmically and began to play with them as they were forcibly touching each other.”

“Master!  This is fun!  Do something else to Pussy Slave!” she smiled her rubber pussy-smile.

“Okay,” I said, “How about this!” I proceeded to unlock her arms from the heel mechanism so that they fell loose and easy…she rolled back on her back due to the momentum and was once again unable to move her engorged torso.

Once again I locked her arms in place, this time, however, I had them cross over each other like a sexy sarcophagus taking her fingers and gently inserting them into her hungry pussy-breasts.  She smiled happily, as I had found a way for her to be immobile, yet pleasured.

She was almost perfect, I determined…just a few more touches and I would be ready.  I looked at her long black rubbery hair, and then the round suckling pussy-anus that begged for my caress.  It gave me yet another idea.

“I’m diving into rubber bondage fetish headfirst, so I might as well utilize the toys of the trade…”  I thought.

I told Pussy Slave I would be right back, and she cooed in assent as she continued to pleasure herself in her tight little ball of rubber ecstasy.

Finding Samantha’s old rubber closet, I dug deep into the drawers and other things that she seemed to have pleasured herself with at least once…dildos, fake pussy lips, a mouth cock…most of them didn’t seem appropriate for what I had in mind.

Then I found a pair of things I didn’t expect to find…and combining them I discovered that it would be the perfect way to transform Pussy Slave into a raving rubber ball of orgasmic bliss.

The first object was a butt-plug.  Normally these are used to plug the anus to give the body a sense of fullness and penetration…but this butt-plug in particular was hollow by nature…most likely for the purpose of inserting electrical stimulators or other toys in the anal area.

The second, amazingly enough, was a form of bondage hair-clamp…it may or may not be orthodox, but it was designed in such a way as to pull a woman’s hair to a single focal point, usually used to clamp a woman’s hair off and turn it into some sort of pony tail.  Normal women would find this to be incredulously painful, but for the case of Pussy Slave, it would pure happiness.

Entering the room, I discovered that Pussy Slave was already drinking the juices she had spurt with her own lips…her cum was coming, I knew that very well…hopefully I wouldn’t be too late for the surprise I had in mind.

Rolling her up so that she could at least be in an upright position, despite having her legs dangle v-shaped in the air, I began to gather her curled hair…pressing the switch on her heel…it shifted to long rubbery straight hair, perfectly suitable for the project I was working on.

Taking the hair clamp I gathered all of Pussy Slave’s hair up into it as much as possible at the end.  With a small latch, I clamped it shut, locking her hair into a single point.  Because of all the hair I gathered into the clamp, the clamp now dangled halfway up her shiny rubber back…it really took up a lot of hair in the process.

Knowing full well that my sweet rubber bride’s hair was unbreakable, I inserted the hair-clamp into the hollow of the butt-plug.  Somehow it fit together nice and snug.

With a vigorous yank I stretched the full length of her rubber hair down the length of her back and inserted the butt-plug/hair-clamp combination into the welcoming rubbery anal lips.  She accepted it greedily with a slurp from her anal-pussy.  Taking my thumb, I pressed it as deep inside her anal-pussy as I could.  It disappeared as the lips clamped shut around the rubber hair that was stretched to perfection.

The result was that her long rubber hair was pulled taut by her own greedy rubber anus-lips…this combined with the ratcheting arms fondling and plugging her pussy-breasts, on top of the forced locking insertion of her pussy-cock into her pussy-navel, instantly trapped her in 6 means of constant pleasure.  Her head began to bubble with cum that almost dripped but was swallowed just as quickly by the micro-pussy follicles.

I almost forgot that there was one more panel at the base of her wondrous rubber en point heels that arched in such a way as to both protect the switch mechanisms and prevent Pussy Slave from getting her hands on them.

She continually pleasured herself happily as I casually pressed the seventh panel at the base of the left heel fused to her foot.

Her eyes shot open into wide black orbs and her jaw shot upwards, unable to watch the pleasure except with her other senses.  Her mouth slowly ratcheted open with a few quick pops into the widest O I had ever seen her make.  Her pussy-lips were now at least 4 inches in diameter!

Her neck was frozen in place and unmovable, her jaw locked open, and her head lifted in such a way that she could not look down at what she was occupied with…the additional strain of her head pulling her pussy-hair even further…she was breathing in heavy rubber squeaks through her pussy-lips.

I noticed that her red rubber fingernails were now biting deep inside her pussy-breasts with anticipation, the opposable rubber heels wiggled for attention.  Looking on, I saw that the pussy in her navel was chomping hard on her pussy-cock, although it was hard to see as she was ratcheted so tightly on her hips that she might as well have been folded in half…finally I could see her pussy-anus was sucking on the gift I had gave her rhythmically, the butt-plug/hair-clamp was nowhere to be seen, most likely due to the fact her pussy-anus was about as deep as her pussy-cock was long.

“At last…” I sighed…and gently rolled her round form towards the edge of the bed…her head thrust outward, perpendicular with her round rubber rear.

Taking my cock, I gently glided it up to her face, letting it hang in the hollows of her wide pussy-mouth to tease her…and all she could do in this position was to desperately try to lick it with her black rubber tongue, however this was useless as it was blocked by a stretchy thin wall of latex hymen that seemed to prevent her tongue from pleasuring herself on my sex unless I ‘broke her in’.  Her tongue pressed heavily against the wall, trying to break out and caress my member, her heavy breathing made the hymen inflate and deflate as if she were blowing sexy red rubber bubblegum, the holes in the sides of the hymen seemed to extend to unknown tubes that lined to her esophagus which I assumed is what caused her to squeak when she breathed or spoke .

It seems that each pussy mouth on her body has the ability to repair its latex hymen to flawless rubber integrity, forcing her to revert to ‘virgin’ status if she doesn’t keep herself well sexed; this meant I could enjoy the pleasure of ‘popping the cherry’ sans blood, as many times as I wished.  I shifted my weight a bit, while piercing the hymen with a stretchy ‘pop!’ allowing her to accept my member and then proceeded to gently stroke her pussy-ears with my fingers.

Her eyes closed tight in complete and total contentment, almost as if she was sleeping.  Her nasal cavities breathed heavily in the scent of her being, pleasure in every breath, every taste, and every sound.

It was true that Samantha Parson was the source and ultimately the cause for Pussy Slave’s existence…however, as much as she wanted to be…she could never pleasure me like Pussy Slave could.  I think I finally came to terms with that fact.

They may have shared the same body, but it is how they used their body that counted…at least to me.  I knew there was a dark side to my heart with the idea of having a rubber slave with me, and perhaps it only took this long to embrace that side of myself.  But having Pussy Slave by my side helped me realize that women, even women in bondage, are the most beautiful creatures in all creation.  That is precisely why I desired Pussy Slave over Samantha.

As she continued to fondle my shaft with her tongue, I almost swore I could hear faint humming.  She was singing while sucking on my penis, almost like some kind of sexual lullaby.

To me, love and pleasure went hand in hand, and when I had Samantha, I certainly had love…but the pleasure was never there.  She usually only tried to please herself and satisfy herself…which was something that made me feel alienated from her.

In the case of Pussy Slave…even if she wanted to be pleasured…she put her own desires aside and came to both love and pleasure me.  As a result I came to want to love and pleasure her.  The trade-off may seem one-sided at first, but it made all the difference.  The rubber and bondage and other tools were simply icing on the cake.

And when it came down to the choice of choosing which woman was the real woman I wished for…I chose Pussy Slave, simply because she allowed me to share my feelings and shared the experience equally.

After a time, I systematically released all the locking mechanisms on her body, allowing her to fall back into a normal state.  She shakily stood back up, as it had been a while since she’d been on tip-toe, but soon her body had adjusted to once again being Master’s Pussy Slave.

That afternoon Pussy Slave and I sat and had a discussion about why I had given her new life.  Of course, considering it was Pussy Slave, the conversation tended to always end up with her in a state of climaxed horny confusion.  She had the short attention span of the stereotypical blonde…and was ready to pleasure me in an instant.

“Pussy Slave,” I began, “You realize that the both of us are immortal?” I asked.

“Im-ooor-tal?” Her quizzical blonde look again.

“It means we’re going to be living together forever.” I said aloud.

“That makes Pussy Slave feel happy!  Always always happy!” She smiled, then slurped her innards as I could tell she was cumming.  Her red lips flexed themselves all over her body.

She danced a little in her excitement and it dawned on me that her hair was still trapped inside her round pussy-anus.

“Pussy Slave,” I commanded, “You need to spit that butt-plug out now…”

She pouted, but when she tried to spit it out…nothing happened.

“Uh-oh!” She cried.

Apparently the dildo was now lodged deep inside her grateful pussy-anus…so deep in fact that it appeared to have traveled unknown lengths deep inside her.  I tried to tug at her hair from the hole, but the more I pulled, the longer her rubber pussy-hair stretched from the inside.

In admitted defeat…I decided that I would need to cut Pussy-Slaves hair…at first she was disappointed and sad that I would do this, as it would take all the pressure off her already over-indulged pussy-follicles.  But when I told her that she was both my Wife and my Sex Toy…she realized that in order for her to have fun…I had to have fun…so she complied.

Taking a nearby set of sharp-shear scissors…I snipped the back of her black flowing hair…but what happened next somewhat astonished me.

Her anal-pussy, during this whole time, was eating the long hair inside of her, stretching and stretching it to impossible lengths and eating it like spaghetti.  The moment the hair was cut…the anal-pussy sucked the severed lengths into its mouth, never to be seen again.

Somehow it had learned that eating its own long hair kept it pleasured…somewhat like training a dog to drool.  The hair on her head began to grow back almost instantly, but before I could stop it, the pussy-anus latched onto the hair that dipped low between her legs.

“Pussy Slave is very sorry, Master!  But anal-pussy won’t let go of Pussy-Slave’s pussy-hair…”

Somehow I had a feeling I no longer had control over the relationship going on between her various orifices.  I gave it some thought: as much as she was my sex- slave…she was also my Wife.  And because of that I let her do as she pleased with herself…despite the training I had given her earlier to the contrary…she had still retained her martial arts skills from her previous encounters, making her the perfect sex-toy/bodyguard.

Soon she had learned to insert her own pussy-cock inside her pussy-navel with ease and was consuming it on a regular basis.  She also discovered that her moaning pleasured her pussy-ears (although I made her promise not to moan at night, so as not to keep me awake), so doing that as well as pleasuring her pussy-breasts kept her busy for most of the day, despite the constantly repaired hymen walls in each of her sexes.

But as much as she enjoyed pleasuring herself…there was one thing she could not resist…and this usually resulted in her pussy-cock leaving its ‘home’ with a wet sucking pop.

Despite the constant climaxing she experienced and the constant bombardment of her pleasure centers that always assaulted her innards and thought processes…she was only ever truly happy when I gave her pleasure or when she pleased me.  This she said was Pussy Slave’s only purpose.  And if pleasuring herself didn’t please me, or at least give me a hard on…she instantly halted her activities and desperately tried to find ways of making me happy.

Sometimes she tried to behave like the women she saw on television.  This made me laugh but only for the wrong reasons…as she was no Marilyn Monroe or Cameron Diaz.  But after a while she started to learn how to behave and act like she had used to as a normal woman…it was as if some sort of odd hybrid between Pussy Slave and Samantha now lived with me.

She of course had gotten used to her surroundings and even learned how to take care of a few things around the house.  She of course had developed a natural reflex for sucking up any cum in her body before it spurted.  While the sucking process was noisy, I could tell that the flexing of her innards took a lot of energy and put her body under intense moments of strain…even more so than the constant walking on her ballet-boot heels.  Of course there were days when she had to completely release herself, usually in the bathtub, as the process of holding it in was strenuous.

I found Pussy Slave’s cum-bathes to be somewhat entertaining, as her body released the stuff in gallons, filling the tub to the brim, and this without the drain being plugged…the pace at which she came was slow and steady, but her body rattled and shuddered as every pussy-pore emptied itself.  The result of the bath in cum created a strange sheen effect on her rubber body and hair.

After a few moments of simply relaxing in the vat of cum juices she had excreted…and quite possibly was still excreting…she began the process or re-goring the fluid into herself…sucking like a straw…at times it amazed me that she was able to hold so much cum inside her innards…there were of course times when I would caress her I could feel a large amount of cum fluid sloshing around inside of her…but in the end she learned how to relieve herself.

She actually realized that the toilet I had in the house was used for relieving me.  Taking the hints I had provided, she instantly snaked her pussy-cock out and relieved herself of the day’s white gatherings.

She still of course took cum baths every once in a while, just because the sensation was so great on her body, and the result seemed to make the rubber skin and hair of her body radiate like some black and red rubber angel.  It took some time, but I installed a special high-density bathtub-spa that allowed her to release herself completely just for this purpose as the fluid would be recycled in special plumbing beneath the tub. Due to the high volume of cum she released in these sessions, the pressure in the pipes was enormous, however I managed to create a special filtration system that allowed me to insert special ‘rubber-enhancing’ nutrients into the ‘cum-stream’.  The result made her more stretchy and pliable on a regular basis, much to my delight.

I had of course, maintained my art business long after the relationship between me and my Pussy Slave had been ‘permanently’ established.  Because of the nature of the business I felt the need to move out of where we were located, and purchase a more suitable home for Pussy Slave.

Using money from Pussy Slave’s Bank Account (Samantha Parson was now dead to me), we took a travel jet over to Germany, where it is said that the greatest rubber bondage mistresses hold their organizations.

I had decided at long last, that I was no longer going to keep Pussy Slave a secret to the public.  Besides, it didn’t matter how many folks encountered her, or how long she ‘visited’ the various rubber clubs and other groups…she always hobbled back to me.

50 years had gone by and Pussy Slave and I hadn’t aged a day.  I heard a nock at the door of my new ‘permanently established’ rubber mansion.  The walls and floor were rubber, including furniture, with exception for the windows and doors.

A young woman wearing what appeared to be a grey and blue Dominatrix outfit complete with riding crop had come asking about the rumors she’d heard about the mysterious fetish marvel known as Pussy Slave.

“Why yes…” I replied with a glint in my eye, “This is where she lives.”

I had long adjusted my personality to that of a Domme whenever other fetishists were present.  Never once did I let my guard down around them.  They found me to be deliciously mysterious and some had literally begged me to put them in submission like I had with Pussy Slave.  Of course, simple begging I immediately declined.  Pussy Slave was as hard core into fetish as you could possibly get.

“She’s…incredible…” the woman was indeed marveled at Pussy Slave’s abilities and ‘security system’.

The woman began asking a plethora of questions concerning Pussy Slave’s physiology.

“How is she wearing her rubber skin like that?  Are all those faces on her breasts and body real?  What’s her pain tolerance?”  She asked deliciously poignant questions one after the other…feeling herself up while she did so.

After all the questions she bombarded me with, I gave her a single answer.

“She is a rubber goddess…if ever there was a perfect rubber essence, she is it.” I smiled.

“But…how is that possible?”  Her lips were practically drooling and begging for whatever drug that Pussy Slave was on.  I continued to tease her.

“I’m sorry, but that’s a family secret.”  I grinned.

“But you must tell me!  I want to become like her!  I want to become…perfectly under someone else’s control!” she savored the words with relish.

“You HAVE to tell me!!” she grabbed me by my crimson playboy-robe and hit her knees heavily, begging me for a means of achieving the rubber perfection.  As a sign of her giving up her Domme ways…she threw her riding crop aside.

I arched my eyebrow in Pussy Slave’s direction.

It had been at least a week since we had someone beg like this.

Strangely, and almost unnaturally…Pussy Slave began to laugh at the woman.

“What’s so funny?!” She yelled, “Tell your slave to stop laughing at me!”

“But you misunderstand…that’s the joke.” I said, with a smile.

“I don’t understand!  How come you won’t help me?”

“Let me ask you something,” I began…just like I always did.

“…Who is it in your life that you would throw away everything for?”

“Is there a man you love so much, or a woman out there that means so much to you, you would become less than human to make them happy…even if it meant eternal rubber hell?”

“What is it that makes you happy?  Pleasuring your self or pleasuring others?”

“If both…which pleasures do you enjoy and value the most?”

“Would you give up one pleasure for another?  Would you sacrifice one pleasure for another even greater pleasure to come into your life?”

“How do you feel about happiness?  Is it something you always indulge in, or something you chase after constantly?”

“How do you feel about your life…do you want to live with heaven or live with hell?”

“How do you feel about death?  Is it something you look forward to?  Do you value pain?”

And the last question:  “Do you wish to be a woman?”

The young woman stood, and as I offered her a chair, she began to answer the questions one at a time…

“There’s this man in my life that I’ve always treated like my slave, ever since we first met…I’ve done just about everything to him, but nothing phases him…it’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t react anymore.  I thought about role reversal, but that doesn’t seem to cut it…he’s too used to being abused.”

Her tears were evident, just like the last person’s had been.

“If you ask me if I love him…yes…yes I do with all my heart and I’d do anything to make him realize I’m alive and that I want to be with him. But it feels like his heart is dead to me.”

I had Pussy Slave gently sit on my lap as she told her life story, and how she found out about Pussy Slave.

“And I guess I like to be pleasured as well as give pleasure…but as long as I’m a Domme in his eyes he’ll never try and make an effort to make me happy.  I’ve always liked the thrill of domination, but now I want to know what absolute submission feels like…what it’s like to live in constant climaxed pleasure…yet tortured with the thoughts that you never feel fulfilled unless your Lover is pleased with you.  I would give up my own personality and create a persona just for him if it came down to it.  I love rubber, but I also love him…if I could have both I’d be in heaven.  It doesn’t matter if I’m going to become something I’m not, just as long as I become what he wants.  Death is something I never considered…but I worry about losing him someday.  Maybe if I go on, someone else will find me but…he’s the best for me, right here, right now.  And I’ll always be a woman for him.”

I evaluated her answers and gave it some thought.

“Do you really want to become an eternal Pussy Slave?” I asked.

“As long as the man I love will be my new Master…I don’t care.” She said, most assuredly.

I glanced at Pussy Slave and she gave me a knowing smile…albeit a rubber one…filled with wet cum slurp.

“Bring him in…” I commanded.

Pussy Slave chirped in response and clicked her en-point heels as she walked out the front door of the mansion…she wheeled in a man wrapped from head to foot in latex, bound on a dolly.

“Take it off…all of it.” I commanded…albeit averting my eyes to the man’s genitalia.

Pussy Slave proceeded to strip him of all his bonds.

The man now stood before me, naked as the day he was born, albeit a bit shocked.

“Towel…” I commanded.  “I refuse to look at another man’s penis…maybe other men like it, but it messes with my mojo.”

Pussy Slave wrapped a towel around his bare portions.

“What the hell?  Where am I?”  The man enquired.

“It doesn’t matter where you are, sir…what matters is who you’re with.”

He looked at his surroundings and discovered that his Domme was now sitting next to me in the Guest chair.  The two looked at each other…he regarded her stiffly…and she broke down in tears.

“I have a proposition for you.” I said.

“No deal…she’s my master…that’s all there is.” He responded coldly.

“Hmph…” I nodded, “I thought you might say that.  Little do you know that being a slave to sex can actually be a position of power...”

“I answer to no one but her.”  His voice was beginning to crack.  Being naked in front of me instead of in his usual bondage and torture was starting to feel like a new torture in and of itself.

“You’re so used to being the one being told what to do…but do you even consider her feelings?” I asked.

Being interrogated like a soldier was something he was used to, but only when she was the one who was asking the questions.

His silence gave me my answer.  Her sobbing got louder.

“Have you ever known what it feels like to be both penetrated and penetrator?”  I asked.

Of course he had, I could tell by the flush look on his face, the butt-plug on the floor, not to mention the penis-enhancing sheath lying next to it.

“Being penetrated and being the penetrator is the same thing as being a master and being a slave.” I said, “If you receive all the pleasure and punishment, you take things for granted, you expect them to happen.  But in reality, it is the Master who is the slave.”

I pointed at the woman who was sobbing next to me for emphasis, “She has been penetrating you for so long you became complacent…you forgot what it means to enjoy sex.”

The man’s eyes seemed to break a little and soften…it took a few moments, but he no longer saw the relationship as master and slave…but more as man and woman.

“Alana…” he said in a somewhat shaky voice… “I’m sorry.”

It was quite obvious these two were more than just master and slave.  She had fallen for him and he seldom ever acknowledged it.

The two of them stood together; as I watched the same things occur before my eyes for perhaps the hundredth time in the past 50 years.

I broke the silence between them, “I will ask you again…do you wish to be his eternal slave?  And I do mean slave in the purest sense of the word…not servant, but the only woman dedicated to him and only him?”

“Yes.” She said resoundingly.  He was a little surprised at her answer of course.

“Keep in mind, sir, you’ll still be a slave of sorts…but you’ll also be her master.  That’s how it works.”

I began to tell them about the relationship between Pussy Slave and I…first with the nature of her condition, second with the nature of my own.  You see…I had grown addicted to Pussy Slave…I was her sex partner…and thus her sex slave as well.  At the same time she had no will…I was her will…I was her slave of her will.  We were eternally entwined.

I finally asked them both if it was what they wanted.  He was certainly not used to the idea…and role reversal was something he wanted to avoid in some capacity.  He feared it in some ways.

“I…guess…it is what I want.” He said finally…weighing his options.

Standing up, I shook the man’s hand…bath towel and all.

“You will not be disappointed, I assure you.” I said to him.

Then I proceeded to touch the woman’s shoulders, not in a sexual way, but in a more businesslike way.

“You’re going to disappear.” I said.  “I don’t know where you’ll go, but you’ll be a completely different woman.”

“I could never make him happy as I am…” she replied, “If it means becoming something else…I’ll do it.”

I sighed at last…having them sign a bunch of papers that effectively gave all asset control of her over to him.  The information they provided not only would determine who the master was…but also what the new Pussy Slave would look like.

“Now…let’s begin.”

“Pussy Slave?”  I called.

“Yes, Master?” she squeaked happily…and she was more than happy to grant this couple their wish.

“Okay Pussy Slave…cum please.” I said.

Pussy Slave didn’t take long to respond.  She produced a cup and released herself just a bit, filling the contents.

The cum was different from either the black cum or the white she always drank.  This time the cum appeared to a milky silver color.

“Have a seat.” I said to the woman.

She complied, the first of many things she would be doing in the near future.

“Tell him he’s your Master.” I said softly.  It wasn’t a command, but a request.  It was a way of imprinting him in her memory.

“Master…I love you.” her eyes brimmed with tears.

He simply sat, dumbfounded.  He had no idea what was going to happen next.

“Drink this…” I said.

She drank the silver cum, and almost immediately her body went limp.

The man’s eyes somewhat showed concern.  She looked like she was dead.

“Let me be the first to inform you that even though the woman you once knew is gone…her body is still going to be apart of your life.  She won’t be doing much thinking, and the process of living with her will take some getting used to…but you’ll manage.”

He nodded, entranced by the sudden transformation taking place around her body.

Pussy Slave and I watched too.  In the many years under my servitude she had learned that men and women need each other just as a master and slave need each other.   Without a slave, there is no master, and without a master, there is no slave.

After a few hours of observation, the newly born rubber woman emerged from her silver rubber chrysalis.

“Hello…Master.” She looked at him with the most genuine rubber eyes, her mouth rounding into a perfect O.  According to order specification, the young woman formerly known as Alana Van Hauser had transformed into one of the thousands in the now developed and patented “Pussy Slave Line”.  I watched with amusement as the young man who had been her slave up to that point began to learn every aspect about her new body…

It took some careful wishing, but I managed to give Pussy Slave the ability to replicate customized versions of herself, versions that didn’t merge with her original self…she could change the color of the skin rubber or lip/nail rubber, or hair rubber style based on what the client requested…however the only thing we are unable to do is reconnect the consciousness of a man or woman when they transforms into a Pussy Slave.  They usually disappear forever.  It’s why I usually end up asking my clients such hard questions. 

Also unlike all the other Pussy Slaves…my Pussy Slave is the only one capable of ‘reproducing’.  It is not that I have monopolized the business of generating Pussy Slaves…in fact part of the secret of my work is that all business transactions are free.  The only financial involvement I have is transferring financial control from one party to another…it is how I do business.  The only ‘profit’ I’ve ever made was donated to me by several rubber associations as an award for ‘Rubber Excellence’…not that I need money anymore.  And no-one ever managed to capture Pussy Slave and extract her ‘special cum’ for their own financial gain…although some tried; the end result was a trip to the hospital in traction or worse…in a coma.  I had long ago pleaded my case to the courts for a special pardon in the case of Pussy Slave, that should anyone threaten her, she is fully within her rights to defend herself.  She of course assured me she would never kill a man, nor would she forcibly make them into new Pussy Slaves.  In fact due to her skills as a martial artist, some have arrived not so much for the reproduction ability she can grant, but in particular for special physical training or martial arts training.  She has the physique and skill of the world’s most deadly assassin…however that’s a sword I generally keep in its sheath and never talk about.  The fact that she can perform these skills in 10 inch rubber ballet-boots was instantly recognized by both Ripley’s Believe it or Not, as well as the Guinness Book of World records!

The Newborn Pussy Slave in question was designed to look just like she had when she was still Alana for the most part.  Her hair style was similar…her skin was an iron rubber grey, fingernails and rubber pussies along her body were surprisingly blue in color.  Of course that was her request as blue was her favorite color.  Her hair fell in curly stretchy gray, and she still retained all the features of my Pussy Slave…including joint locking and the various pussy lips and self-repairing hymens in each pussy, all this, not to mention the ever-famous pussy-cock.  She was of course stuck in the mode of calling him Master and referring to herself as Pussy Slave…but again, that is something that kind of became fused with what Pussy Slave originally was.

The new silver and blue Pussy Slave slowly began to awaken to her abilities.  Her faces and mouths breathed in the new pungent air and the fluids inside her innards began to flow.  The climaxing sensation began pumping her like a steady heartbeat.

Like a mother hen my beloved Pussy Slave stepped in, her own orgasms in sync with the newborn.

“Pussy Slave #457876…” she addressed the woman directly, “you are his new Pussy Slave…and you must make your Master happy!” she smiled.

She began to transfer some kind of ‘memory cum’ she had called it…into the woman’s body…she drank it with desperate hunger.  The memory cum would basically act like a textbook, transferring all knowledge Pussy Slave had gathered over the years, both mental and physical, to the newly formed Pussy Slave.  The knowledge also included a form of automatic ‘house-training’ that prepared the new Pussy Slave for living with her new Master.

The silver Pussy Slave’s eyes fluttered as all the memory cum flooded her thoughts…she still however retained the imprint that the young man was now and forevermore her Master.

And sure enough, just like a young teenager dragging on his first cigarette, the young man became addicted to her.  He felt liberated, of course, which frightened him a bit…but he also felt that it was his responsibility as her new Master to take care of her.

“I…I feel somewhat bad about watching Alana disappear like that…” he said abashedly.

“Would you rather she pull a gun to her head and pull the trigger?” I replied with a smirk.

He immediately shook his head no.  He then began to explore his new Pussy Slave’s innards…his life had changed forever.  Whether or not it was for the better…well…he wasn’t so sure.

“It’s like…I’m forced to obey Alana’s whims all over again.” He said with a smile on his face.

“And yet she is virtually helpless without you.  It’s an interesting situation, isn’t it?” I smiled.

“Thank you, sir, I have no idea how to repay you.” he said.  Most of my clients never knew my name, as I had kept them insisting on calling me ‘Sir’.  It was a way of remaining anonymous, but also a means of enjoying the expressions on long-time Domme’s faces as they tried to get used to referring to me as such.  The contract I had them sign was for confidentiality protection, insurance purposes in case they were somehow unpleased with the result, and also for paperwork so that I could keep track of each and every Pussy Slave that was born.  Strangely enough they all have their own distinct personalities, even though eternal slaves to their sexes and partners, perhaps this was Pussy Slaves gift to them:  Forever gone, but not all gone from their former selves.

“Just make sure she’s well sexed every day.  Oh yeah…and keep the towel.” I said with a smile.

The young man gathered up all the bondage tools and other things…which apparently he no longer needed to some extent, and lead her out the door, her blue rubber pussy-lips gleaming with fresh cum while she wiggled her round hips on pirouetted ballet-boot heels after him.

As the two left…I couldn’t help but give Pussy Slave a gentle kiss.  This of course sent a wave of fluttery joy to her body.

“Master is in a good mood!  Did Pussy Slave do good to help that couple today?”

“Yes you did, dear.” I smiled.

A few minutes later a second knock came…this appeared to be yet another ‘begging’ client.

“Two in one day?” This was most definitely rare.

A couple entered the room dressed in rubber.  It appeared to be a non-S&M relationship.  But there was more to it than meets the eye.

“Sir, we heard about your Pussy Slave and how great they are…but we also heard they were extremely expensive.”  The young man began.

“Indeed they are…more than you can imagine.”

“Well the thing is…my wife and I haven’t had sex lately…not for a very long time…as if that wasn’t bad enough, she recently discovered herself to be a lesbian…And well…I feel like I was never able to please her.”

The young woman looked particularly ashamed, but at the same time, she felt as though it was a part of her nature.

She helplessly threw up her arms, “We’re married…and we’re stuck!”

“I might have a solution for you…but it’s going to cost you.  You could say it might change your life” I said very calmly.

“Really?” The young man asked, “Do you think you can help her fall in love with me again.”

“We really want to stay together…” She nodded.

“Let me ask you something,” I began…just like I always did.

Pussy Slave began to massage my back with her long rubbery fingers as I told them the story.  She glanced casually at the fireplace mantle at the shimmering stone embedded in the rubber crest in the wall, the stone that could grant wishes, and smiled all the while.

The End?




If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to
latex stories