From LabRat@i-link.net Sun May 19 09:34:39 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Rubber/Dungeon Story - Latex.01
From: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell)
Date: Sun, 19 May 1996 11:34:39 -0500

I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may
contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality.  If this is
offensive do not read - delete file.  For those of us who enjoy ....
enjoy!  Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up
with what I have now.  This series doesn't have a lot of TG content in
the earlier chapters. There are 17 chapters total.


                            Adventures in Rubber
                                     by
                                 Dr. Hevea
  
                                  Chapter 1

  Jason was getting frustrated.  The embroidered jacket was chafing, the bar
scotch he'd ordered was watery, and he was sweating in the rubber pants. 
What the hell he thought, I may as well enjoy my drinking, if I can't enjoy
the bloody party.  He poured his drink into an abandoned margarita, and 
caught the bartender's eye.  "Double shot of Macallan, neat," he ordered.
The bartender, a bored-looking gorilla in a nun's habit, said, "Top shelf is 
four bucks a shot," waited for his reaction, and when he said nothing, turned 
to pour. 

 Jason had come to the Hallowe'en party alone, as a last resort, knowing full 
well he would most likely remain alone.  He looked around the party, noting 
the many couples that had formed since the masquerade dance had begun.  It 
looked like yet another lonely night out of years of lonely nights.  

 Earlier, things had looked promising as several attractive women had shown
interest in his flashy costume.  But right on cue, his insecurity had caused
him to stammer, to blurt meaningless and silly things, and one by one, they
had disappeared into the crowd, only to be glimpsed later hanging on the 
arm of another, apparently more confident man, or in some cases, woman.
 It was hard to tell, with some of the costumes.  
 
 Shit, why couldn't I have been born gay, he thought.  At least, there seem
to be a lot more men here than women with a fetishistic bent.

 His hopes rose again when a young woman in an outrageous blonde wig and 
1920's flapper dress walked up to him with two glasses of champaign.  She 
looked like a gangster's moll from a movie.
"Hoy they-uh," she said.  He grinned.  She even had the accent down pat.
"Hey, baby doll," he said in his best imitation of Al Capone.  
She frowned slightly then brightened.  "Oi loik ya cawstume, where'd ja foind
it?"

 Once again, he tried to concentrate on what he would say.  She was a 
knockout, he just _had_ to get it right this time.  For the seventeenth time 
tonight, he heard a friends advice in his mind.  "Just be yourself.  People 
can sense when you're putting on an act."  He tried  to relax.
 He dropped the "gangster" accent and smiled in what he hoped was a winning
manner.  "Well, I rented the jacket, hat and shoes, but I already had the
rubber pants.  Where did you find that outrageous wig?"  

 Thirty seconds later, he stood morosely wiping champaign from his jacket,
amazed to discover that not only had her accent been real, but the wig was
not a wig, and her head was as empty as her glass was now.
She was not The Woman.

 'The Woman' was a sort of fantasy he'd entertained since puberty.  He sat
down at the cash bar, and thought back to his high school days, to his first
and only great love.

 When he was about sixteen, and noticing girls in a big way, he'd made a pass 
at the sexiest red-headed girl in school, Mandy.  This was a bold step for
him, since he'd always had trouble talking to girls.  It was discouraging,
actually, for his swim-team body and cute looks tended to attract quite a few
potential dates and even bed-mates.  The problem was that Jason Stewart was 
not just a jock.  He was smart, and he knew it, and he just couldn't relate 
to 99% of the girls at school, despite the urging of his percolating hormones.
To be sure, there were a few smart girls at his school, but they dressed like
bag-ladies, and their personal grooming habits would have shamed a wino.  
There appeared to be no females there with good looks, good taste, and 
intelligence in the entire city of St. Louis.

 Moreover, his social skills seemed somehow lacking when dealing with girls- 
they seemed to him almost an alien race, with quite different needs and goals
than he.  Due to an early divorce, Jason had grown up without a father, and
somehow his mother had never graced him with any dating skills.

 After two years of unsuccessful attempts at conversation with empty-headed
Madonnawannabes, and a few aborted dates, he overheard a conversation between 
his chemistry teacher and Mandy Rafool.  She was discussing the relationship
between what she had learned in physics class to the current discussion of 
valences in chemistry.  He would never have imagined!  He had seen her around 
for quite awhile and like every other guy in school had been fascinated with
her pretty face, tight jeans and sweaters, and astonishingly mature body.  
 And like every other guy in school, he had noticed that she was conspicuously
without a boyfriend.  But he'd assumed from her good looks and her retinue of 
bimbettes that she was yet another bimbo herself.  She was two years older 
than he, a senior, a cheerleader and she seemed like a daddy's-little-girl 
type who never lacked for anything, yet he had fallen hard, and he resolved to 
win her heart.

 For the next six months he secretly bought all the magazines the girls at 
school seemed to worship, and studied.  In Seventeen, he learned how a 'real 
cool dude' walked, talked, and dressed.  In Young Model, he read about the 
things every teenage girl supposedly wanted in a boyfriend.  In Cosmo, he
discovered what sort of sex 'every' sophisticated, mature woman 'wants to 
have'.
And, finally, after screwing his courage to the sticking point, he'd asked 
her for a date.

 She'd accepted!  Actually, when he first spoke to her she'd laughed and 
walked off with her friends, but then right after school, he had found her 
sitting on the hood of his car.  She told him she was sorry, that she'd 
actually thought him cute when they first met, but his inept approach had 
'forced' her to rebuke him, lest her girlfriends think her 'easy'.  
Considering how she domineered her peer group, he thought it more likely 
that she only feared a loss of control, but didn't dare risk such a rebuke.
He was in love... or lust, which was about the same to him at that age.
 
"Well, aren't you going to drive me home?" she'd demanded.  At last, he had
thought to himself, a girl who takes the lead.  As they talked, sitting in his
car in front of her house, he discovered with delight and a certain relief
that she did have a brain after all.  The vast majority of the attractive 
girls, at least, seemed to believe that brains and education were anathema to 
becoming a model, which every one of them except Mandy seemed to want.  
She told him she was getting straight A's except in Home-Ec, which she 
loathed, and that she had already decided to become an investment broker!  

 He asked her why she had no boyfriends, why she had picked him.  Her reply 
astonished, and then warmed him.  It seemed that she too, was turned off by
empty-headed football jocks suffering from what she called testosterone
poisoning.  She seemed surprised and delighted that he was on the swimming
team, yet was also an intelligent student.  Then she shocked him by revealing 
that she had not only dated a few of those football jocks, but had sex with 
several, and found them to be boring, self-centered lovers.  
At his stunned look she added, "Oh, don't look so shocked.  There's nothing
wrong with having sex early, although you could never prove it by those
immature fools I run with.  I'm not stupid, I use condoms, I play it safe.
 Besides, I've seen the way you look at my body, you know damn well you'd give 
your left arm to get in my pants..." here she reached over and squeezed his 
crotch, nearly causing a minor traffic accident, "...and who knows, maybe you 
will, if you're good to me."

 Jason's brain was yelling, "DANGER...DANGER, Dr. Smith!  Cockteaser ahead!"
but he suppressed its voice easily and told himself she really meant it- she
was just a very bossy girl...er, woman, he corrected himself.

 She turned out to be a rather forceful lass indeed.  Fortunately for Jason's
grades, she shared no classes with him, but when they passed in the halls, she
surreptitiously blew him kisses, or licked her lips lasciviously when no-one
was looking.  She insisted on meeting him after school every day, and that he
drive her home.  He lived for those drives, as they talked about their
passtimes and interests, the other kids at school, and frequently about sex.
She seemed quite knowledgable on that subject, and astonished him with her
frank, technical descriptions of what seemed to him bizarre yet tantalizing 
acts.

 Finally, on Friday, she informed him that he would pick her up at seven that
night to go to Angelo's for dinner.  Angelo's was a restaurant & nightclub, 
rather pricey for kids their age, but his part time job at Radio Shack had 
allowed him to save a tidy bundle.  He felt a moment of pride at being able to
wine and dine the sexiest girl in school.  

It was rather a relief actually, not having to worry how to persuade her to go
out with him.  All she required of him was a "yes".

 When he picked her up, he discovered that she challenged the conventions of 
fashion as well.  He got to her house early and after waiting nervously on the
porch for several minutes, he rang the bell precisely at seven o'clock.  She 
opened the door within seconds, and breezed right past him toward the car.  
He could only stare after her in shock.  When she realized he wasn't 
following she turned, staring back at him with hands on hips, looking at him 
silently as if to say, 'Well, aren't you coming?'  He continued to stare for 
a moment, than slowly walked up to her, his expression of slack-jawed 
astonishment slowly turning to one of frank admiration as he boldly looked
her up and down.  The temperature of the warm June night suddenly rose several
degrees.

"Buy you a drink, senor?"  The voice at his shoulder snapped Jason back to the
present.  A huge woman, no, a transvestite, in a tight red flamenco dress was 
standing next to him.  
 "Umm, no thanks.  I mean, no offense, but your eyes are the wrong color for
me."  The flamenco dancer pouted and flounced away.  Jason sipped his scotch,
closed his eyes and thought back to that first, incredible night.

 For their trip to the club, she had worn an outrageous shiny rubber 
miniskirt in hot pink that fit like a second skin.  If that wasn't enough, she 
had topped it with a tight-fitting jacket of white patent leather, accompanied 
by fishnet stockings and pink patent spike heels.  She wore no blouse under 
the jacket, and if she wore a bra, it must have been quite low-cut, as her 
burgeoning cleavage was plainly displayed in the neckline.  His first reaction 
was that she looked like one of the hookers on Main Street, or a heroine from 
a B-grade movie, although unarguably sexy!  

 "My god Mandy," he said, "you look delectable!"
She grinned a wicked grin. "Yes, I know.  I take it then that you like my
tastes."
 She even sounds like a b-grade movie, he thought.
He convinced his eyes to stop exploring her body, to meet her gaze.
"Mandy, I LOVE the way you look...it's just that...  I guess it's a bit of a 
shock.  At school, you never wear anything more provocative than a tight 
sweater...do you dress this way every time you go out?  Don't you get a lot of 
flack from your parents?"
He realized he was gushing and shut up, coloring slightly.

She smiled wryly at him and ticked off her reply on her fingers.
"First: I dress the way I dress at school in order to identify with those
little idiots who follow me around like puppy dogs.  I give them something to 
look up to, they give me a certain cachet of respectability, helping me to get
on the cheerleading team, the school newspaper, the yearbook staff, student
council, and so on.  That stuff looks great to college scouts, after they
finish examining your test scores, of course.
"Second: no, I don't always dress this way when I go out, only when I want
to reduce my date to a drooling blob of lust."  She grinned mischievously.

"It's working, believe me," stammered Jason,
"..third," Mandy interrupted, "no, my parents don't mind much at all.. you 
should see some of the things THEY wear.
"and fourth, are we going to dinner, or not?"

During dinner, while his head was reeling from her fantasticly clothed figure,
her slightly musky cologne, and two glasses of wine, she whispered to him in 
no uncertain terms what she expected of him later.  Jason was in pubescent 
heaven.  His erection had not subsided since she'd opened the door, and she 
certainly wasn't helping with her thoroughly lurid account of the things she 
wanted to do to him.  If she weren't so straightforward and bossy, he thought, 
I'd think she was the biggest tease of all time.

  By the time dessert had arrived, she had removed a shoe, and was massaging
his uncomfortable bulge with her toes, the concealing tablecloth keeping
their secret.  When she put her shoe back on and began squeezing his crotch
between both heels, he thought he would explode.  He didn't want to cream in
his pants, but he didn't want to make a scene, either.  The whole time, Mandy
kept up a stream of innocuous conversation that for Jason, became increasingly
difficult to follow.

 When they got to the car, she leaned back against the car, inviting him into
her arms.  For a few seconds, Jason hugged her gently, as if afraid she would
break.  He kissed her hesitantly, just before they both threw decorum to the 
wind, each grabbing the other fiercely, smothering each other with their
mouths, their toungues.
Jason squeezed her ass and pulled her tightly to him, marvelling at the 
unusual feeling of the smooth, pliant latex covering her muscular cheeks.  
Mandy responded by pushing her hand down his pants.
Jason felt her hand around his erect shaft, and suddenly knew that they would 
not be getting home at the hour he'd promised his mother.  He drew his head 
back, looked her in the eyes.  "I think we'd better go somewhere."

 Mandy had him drive to the outskirts of town to an abandoned farmhouse she
knew about from some previous amorous adventure.  The entire way, she
was melted against him, rubbing his skin with her hands, and distracting him 
from driving in general.  Soon she had opened his fly, and had scooped 
everything out.  Jason tried to think of something to say, but was overcome by
the unique sensation of SOMEONE ELSE handling his cock, softly squeezing his 
balls.  He tried to concentrate on the road, but when she pulled him into her 
mouth, for the second time that week, he almost drove off the road.  "Ah!  
..ahhh" was all he could say.
"Relax," she said, releasing his cock for a moment, "you drive the car, and
I'll drive you."  She again bent to her task.  During a moment's clear 
thought, he realized she was quite good at it.  Every time he felt ready to 
come off, she either slowed down or stopped altogether, moving her attention 
and tongue to his balls, or neck, or earlobes.  Only once did she come up for 
air, to give directions.
 
 When they finally arrived, Jason pulled out a large picnic blanket his mother
kept in the trunk, "for road emergencies".  He'd decided that this was a road
emergency.  In seconds, Mandy had him down on the blanket on his back, her 
legs astride his hips, and her hands pressing his shoulders into the soft
earth.  "You're a virgin, aren't you?" she asked softly, smiling gently down
at him in the pale moonlight.  Despite his embarrassment, he couldn't break 
her gaze. "Umm, yeah," he answered sheepishly.
Softly, she stroked his face. "Heyy.... heyyy," she cooed, "it's alright!
Everyone's a virgin some time in their life.  You just sit back and enjoy
the ride.  If you feel like doing something, say so, or just do what comes
naturally.  Now then..." She squirmed backwards enough to get at his belt and
stood suddenly, unceremoniously yanking off his pants.  "There!  Now we're
getting somewhere," she exclaimed, grabbing at his underwear.  When she had
him totally nude he protested, "Hey, wait a minute, I'm not wearing a stitch, 
and you're still dressed!  That's hardly fair."

 Mandy stood astride his chest, looking down at him feigning a hurt expression.
"Don't you LIKE the way I'm dressed?"  She ran her hands over the thin shiny
patent leather covering her breasts, turned to face his feet, giving him an
excellent view as she carressed her latex-covered derrier.
"Er, well, I didn't mean..."  
"And besides," she added, bending to look at him between her knees as she
positioned herself above his head, "I'm not wearing any panties."  So saying, 
she knelt astride his chest, pinning his upper arms under her shins, and 
squatting directly over his face.

 Jason had actually dreaded this moment.  Although a virgin, he was by no 
means ignorant, and through his reading and by the coarse jokes and bragging 
told in the swimming team locker room, he had surmised that cunnilingus was a
distasteful and unpleasant experience.  All that changed in the next thirty 
seconds. As she lowered her crotch over his face, she began stroking his erect
cock, occasionally leaning forward to tongue and partially suck on him.  He 
was eager to return the favor.  He sniffed cautiously.  A melange of scent
surprised his nose.  The smell of the latex miniskirt, now hiked up around her 
hips was reminiscent more of certain pipe tobaccos than the smelly innertube
rubber he was more familiar with.  This was mixed with a new smell, musky and 
rich, not unpleasant, but... strange, with a hint of some musky cologne.  
He suspected she had scented herself here as well.  Encouraged, he reached out 
with his tongue, exploring the pink flesh hidden in the hair. She tasted much 
the same as she smelled- he decided that the boys on the swim team must be 
crazy or liars, because he was already beginning to like it.

 As his tongue made it's first tentative entry into her hungry sex, Mandy
moaned, backed up into his mouth, and bent further to take him completely into 
her mouth.  Jason bucked his mouth and tongue against her and into her, having 
only a fleeting instant to think- I'm doing it!  At last, I'm actually doing 
69 with the best girl in school! before the rising heat in his groin became a 
pulsing fire that swept through his mind, leaving only peace and a growing 
love behind it.

"Hey buddy, if you're not gonna drink, how about letting someone else use that
stool, huh?"  Jason awoke with a start from his reverie, realizing his 
daydream had become that lucid, remembering sort of sleep-dream.  He looked up
at the hard hat that had spoken, realizing that the deep voice belonged to a 
huge, muscular woman dressed as a construction worker.  She had one meaty fist
clamped around the wrist of a fierce-looking smaller woman sporting a green 
mohawk, the other around a huge can of Buddweizer.
Jason blinked and said, "Uh, I was just leaving."  
Sometimes, he thought heading for the other end of the bar, discretion is the 
ONLY part of valor.

 As the saddening memories of his lost love returned, Jason hailed the
bartender, who had been replaced by a six-foot tall pink elephant, and 
ordered another shot of the Macallan.  Wistfully, he thought about that first
night of blazing hot sex, of exploration and learning.  He remembered that at 
one point, Mandy had been lying back, knees in the air, while Jason, his
hands lifting her ass, lapped and sucked hungrily at her pussy.  Essentially 
they were waiting for Jason's plumbing to recover before having at it again.  
Mandy had suddenly lowered her legs, tucking her ankles into his armpits, 
and pulled her skirt down around his head.  When he started to back out to
see what was wrong, she urged, "No, keep going," and pulled him to her 
with her ankles.  Jason, his head squeezed between her muscular thighs and the
tightly stretched skirt, his nose assaulted by her strong musk and the 
aromatic scent of the rubber, set to with renewed vigor, and soon found his 
tool hardening again.
It had been an incredible night, and he had learned a few new skills, too.

 From that day forth, he had developed a special affinity for Mandy's style of 
dress: high heels, tight fitting, yet revealing jackets and blouses and skin 
tight dresses. 
His lover had quite a few sexy outfits, including several made from leather,
or shiny, stretchy plastic, and a purple latex sheath dress that looked as if 
it were painted on.  He especially liked the look and feel of the rubber
outfits.  She even had a pair of black bicycle shorts made of latex that she
insisted he try on.  The unique, clingy, slightly restrictive sensation had 
made him instantly hard, and when she rubbed up against him in her purple
rubber dress, he surprised them both my suddenly coming in his pants.

The smooth, stretchy material seemed to be the ultimate in second skin,
emphasizing the shape of the body, smoothing imperfections, and even offering
a kind of isolating protection from the weather.  He looked everywhere for 
items made of it, but to no avail.  To be sure, latex dresses and rubber pants
were shown off on perfect bodies in various fashion magazines from time to 
time, but all he found locally were rubber kitchen gloves.

 Finally, he asked Mandy where she had gotten her rubber items. "Why," she 
giggled, "do you want a dress for yourself?"  
 "No," he lied, "I think I prefer rubber dresses on you.  I thought I'd get 
you something new, but I can't find anything."  
"Oh, my dad bought some of it for me when he was in New York, I don't know 
what store.  Then I found mom looking through a catalog from some British
company, and I just asked her to order some things for me, too."
  Jason had wondered what sort of parents bought teir daughter rubber 
miniskirts, but kept his thoughts to himself. 
 
 For seven months, they were inseperable, despite the accusations from his
mother that Mandy "looked like trash" in her wild, sexy outfits.  When Jason
told his mom who Mandy's parents were, and what neighborhood they lived in, 
that was the end of that.
 
 He did finally get to meet Mandy's parents, and received several clues about
Mandy's maturity and free lifestyle.  Both parents were highly paid
professionals, mom a mathematician for an engineering firm, and dad a nursing
instructor for a local university hospital.  They were smart, they knew their
daughter was too, and they were apparently very open minded about her
sexuality.  Their only iron-clad rules concerned her academic performance,
and her health.  Jason learned that they were the source of Mandy's uncommon
but sensible fixation on what she called, "safe sex".

 Only once did Jason glimpse anything unusual about the senior Rafool's.  
During one weekend visit to Mandy's house to get her help with some 
schoolwork, Jason went to the kitchen to grab them some Coke's.  On the way 
back, he passed the garage door which had been left ajar, and from which some 
rather frantic moaning and grunting was coming.  Upon peeking through the gap,
he was greeted by the sight of a large black mummy suspended by chains from 
the garage roof.  The bag looked like leather, and covered the body within it
from scalp to toes.  It was liberally equipped with straps and buckles that 
had been drawn tight, making the entire form-fitting arrangement quite taut.
Nonetheless, it was quirming enthusiastically, and he noticed a wire dangling
from the bag that trailed off to his right.
  Then he noticed, at the edge of his view, a pair of crossed legs belonging 
to someone seated just out of sight.  The legs had on an extraordinary pair
of knee-high boots with high platform soles, whose spike heels must have been
a foot long!  Above the boots, the legs were dressed in something skin-tight,
red, and very shiny which he suspected was rubber.  Shaking his head in 
amazement, he quietly returned to Mandy's room without telling her what he had
seen.

 Of course, thought Jason, it was to good to last...
Mandy's mother had been hired to a lucrative position with a think tank in 
Washington, DC., and the family moved away within a month.  It happened with
hardly any notice, and Mandy and Jason were crushed.  They spent days saying
goodbye.  For almost a year, they wrote constantly, and once Mandy's parents
payed her airfare back to St. Louis.  They had a few precious days together,
fortunately during summer school break, which they spent seeing movies,
shopping, and enjoying wild and imaginative sex.

Before she left, Mandy told him that if he couldn't come to Washington, she
would be looking for another partner to spend her life with.  Although he knew
it was only fair, having it out in the open drove home the fact that he had
lost her.  It was years before he tried dating again.

 Years later, in an adult book store, he found a magazine dedicated to 
"fetishists".  The pictures of women (and men!) in corsets, rubber, and high
heels were tantalizing and a kind of relief, as he had imagined that his
fascination was unique.  He bought it and went home to look up the word, 
"fetish".  It fits, he sighed to himself.  I suppose I'll never find another 
girl like Mandy.  Inside the magazine, he found page after page of amazing 
photographs.  And the clothes!  Every page showed men and women in the most
delicious rubber costumes imaginable.  There were rubber dresses, rubber
shirts, long rubber gloves and stockings, in every color one could want.
There was even a severe-looking rubber corset that compressed one happily
suffering woman from her neck to her ankles!  Moreover, the people were doing
the strangest things!  As he drooled over the steaming scenes, trying to
figure out the straps, hoses and other paraphernelia, he noticed a tiny
ad in one corner.  It was a company that sold all these wonderful things!

  Fortunately, Jason was working in the computer field, and had a good-
sized income, or he would have gone broke within a year.  He ordered a few
rubber goods from that first company, and subscribed to a magazine they
mentioned. He was still getting over the shock that there were other people
out there who loved rubber as much as he!  In the magazine, there
were advertisements from other companies making everything from anoraks
to zoot suits, out of several different kinds of rubber.
  He had immediately reached for his checkbook. 

 Over the years, he built an impressive collection of rubber goods, from 
tight women's dresses, to men's "blue jeans".  But through it all, despite his
best efforts, he could find no-one to wear any of it with, or to share his
growing interest in bondage.  Oh, he dated, and socialized, but he never found 
anyone to share his secret desires.  Just once, he had dared to mention his 
fetish to a woman he had been dating for some months.  They had made love a
few times, and she had proved quite conservative- almost boring, Jason would
have said.  But she did seem to enjoy dressing sexy, although more for looks
than the feeling of the clothes themselves, so he casually mentioned that he 
would like to see her in a dress he'd bought for her, and when she agreed, 
he brought out a rather plain sheath dress in shiny black latex.  
It fit her well, but she complained that it 'felt weird', and wouldn't wear it
again.  He never dared to bring up the topic again.
  After they stopped seeing each other, he resigned himself to a lonely life 
of masturbation and fantasies.
 
  Attending tonight's Hallowe'en party was a half-hearted attempt to get out 
and see the local nightlife. He'd noticed, over the last few years, a subtle 
trend toward a 'trashy and flashy' look in fashion, and had begun to have 
hopes of finding a lover who shared his tastes.  He had debated for hours what
to wear to the party, balancing the requirements for a costume against his 
desire to "come out" in something kinky.  In the end, he settled on renting a 
Spanish toreador outfit worn with his own black rubber knickers, and a simple 
domino mask.
 It took all his courage to wear the pants, too.
  But as he pulled the stretchy, shiny latex over his legs, he realized it
didn't matter what people thought, tonight was Hallowe'en!   Tonight was the
one night he could wear anything at all without fear of ridicule or outcry. 
He revelled in the tight, smooth feel of the rubber jeans.  To hell with it, 
he thought, I'm going to enjoy myself tonight!

  At the party, which was hosted by a local radio station, he was greeted by a 
delightful array of leather dresses, spandex pants and skirts, and other sexy 
costumes.  But as he danced with various partners in turn, he realized that to 
these nervously laughing people, they were just costumes, and none of them 
would likely wear such things to the office.  There was no lack of spandex,
plenty of cheap imitation leather, and a fair amount of real leather, but not 
one bit of rubber was to be seen.  Eventually, he sat down at the bar to rest
and console himself with a drink. 

 Now, after two stiff scotches, he had become positively soggy with nostalgia.
 So, as he sat sweltering in his sweaty costume, feeling utterly alone in his
perversion, he was overwhelmed to see two women walk in, wearing what appeared
to be mostly rubber costumes.  And what costumes!  The first to enter, a tall 
redhead with an impossibly exaggerated hourglass figure,  was wearing what 
looked like a cross between a form-fitting jacket and a corset, made of black 
patent leather.  She possessed the smallest waist he had ever seen.  Below 
that, a skin-tight glossy hobble-skirt flared around her ample hips, 
compressing her legs together from waist to knee.  Judging from its smooth, 
shiny texture and its fluid movement as she walked, it was made of thick latex 
rubber.  On her legs, she wore knee-length boots with six-inch heels, that 
laced all the way up.

 Her companion, a shorter brunette, was dressed in a classic french maid's
uniform, complete with white doily, except that her uniform was made entirely 
of rubber.  She had on long black latex stockings with lace garters showing
just under the hem of her skirt.  His eyes grew wider.
 On her feet were a pair of cruel looking patent leather ankle boots with 6-
inch spike heels, and heavy ankle straps attached to each other with a sturdy 
little chain.
 They seemed to be giving her trouble, because she faltered a bit as the pair
walked toward him.  Her hands were covered by black latex gloves and she
carried an old-style feather duster. She truly looked the part, right down to
a pert little leather maids cap.  Both were masked with plain black dominoes.

 As he drank in the incredible sight of the two ladies, the red-head caught
him looking and began walking toward the bar, staring him directly in the eye
the whole way.  She hardly paused on the way, the crowd parted around the pair
like the Red Sea.  Perhaps because of their dress, women and men alike seemed 
in a hurry to get out of their way.  Jason watched her walk, mesmerized, as 
her legs wrestled with the tight hobble skirt for room to breathe, the thick
rubber forcing her to take mincing steps on the precariously high heels.
 
 It suddenly occured to Jason that the couple was probably lesbian, and he was 
about to get the proverbial stuffing kicked out of him by spike-heeled shoes.
He glanced left and right, looking for an avenue of escape.  But by the time 
he made it to his feet, swaying slightly from the booze, she stood before him, 
a stern-looking vision in rubber and leather.  She said nothing at first, 
looking him up and down, a faint smile playing on her lips.

 Trying to look nonchalant, Jason swung around and glanced about the dance 
floor.  It seemed he was not the only one who found them attractive.  
Practically everyone's eyes had been locked on the pair as they threaded their
way across the dance floor.
 They were still receiving hotly critical stares from a few female partners.
Finally, the red-head in the hobble skirt spoke, smiling taughtly. 
 "You must really like our costumes," she said, "I could feel your stare from 
across the room!" 
 Jason looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. It's just that, well, they are a little
little unusual, even for Hallowe'en.  I mean, you seem to be comfortable
wearing this sort of thing, even those heels, which umm,  by the way, don't
look easy to walk in...and you know, everyone else is just renting their
costumes for the evening.  And...and they fit so well, did you make them
yourself?" he gushed.  He paused for a breath. "Sorry.  Sorry, you ladies
really look wonderful, I love what you're wearing...I guess I'm just... well,
it isn't every day a guy has two gorgeous women dressed in rubber in front
of him.  Er, can I buy you ladies a drink?" 

 "Why certainly," she replied, "we'd love to have a drink, wouldn't we,
dear?"  She looked at her companion. The other woman, who Jason guessed  
was a few years younger, said nothing. In fact her expression hadn't changed
since they walked up.  She seemed distracted, staring off across the room.
 Jason turned to the bar and ordered another Macallan, "and whatever the 
ladies are having."
 "And what makes you think I'm a lady?" she said coolly, eyeing him
in the bar mirror. 
 Oho, he thought to himself. "Despite your bizarre outfits, I've got
to assume you're a nice girl from uptown until proven otherwise," he
said wryly.
 "I'm a woman, not a girl.  You only get one warning."
 "I'm sorry!  I didn't mean...sorry. By the way, my name's Jason."
 "Enchente', Jason.  For this evening, I am 'Mistress Mayhem', and this is
my faithful sidekick, 'Maid Marion'.  
 "Maid Marion! Aaugh!" he groaned at her pun as the drinks arrived. 

"So, Maid Marion, what prompted you to do this particular scene?" 
She looked blankly back at him, or rather, just over his shoulder.  She seemed
not to hear.  Odd.  Her makeup is a tad to heavy, he thought.  He noticed now
too, that her free hand was bound to her waist by a slender leather cuff 
attached to her waist-belt.  It looked very much like his dreams had come
true!

"She ahh, doesn't talk much, I'm afraid," said 'Mayhem', "but, really,
the whole thing was my idea.  I liked the idea of a Hallowe'en costume
party, and actually, we dress up in costume quite a bit.  We didn't make the 
outfits, it's too tricky working with rubber, you have to get the seams just 
right.  We have them custom made overseas."



From LabRat@i-link.net Sun May 19 09:38:21 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Rubber/Dungeon Story - Latex.02 (2/17)
From: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell)
Date: Sun, 19 May 1996 11:38:21 -0500

I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may
contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality.  If this is
offensive do not read - delete file.  For those of us who enjoy ....
enjoy!  Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up
with what I have now.

 
                             Adventures in Rubber
                                      by
                                  Dr. Hevea

                                  Chapter 2
  
"You seem to know a lot about dressing for pleasure," replied Jason, "That is,
most people don't even know it exists, and even less would be brave enough
to do it in public."

   "What do you mean brave enough?"  retorted the woman who called herself
`Mistress Mayhem',  "Rubber and leather, plastic... they're just materials, 
like rayon or polyester, with ah, more taste perhaps- you see women wearing 
shiny plastic raincoats all the time, and leather has been high fashion for 
years."
   "Your problem is, you have this guilt trip because some people may think
it's kinky or wierd to wear clothes made of rubber.  So what does it mean to 
be kinky - to be different?  What's wrong with being different?  Do you want 
to be just another sheep in the herd,  or do you want to run your own life?"  
She stopped, breathing a little deeper from her tirade, and stared defiantly 
into Jason's eyes.

   He tried to ignore the delightful things happening under her jacket as a 
result of her heavy breathing.  "I don't know," he sighed, "I never seem to 
think these things through.  Sometimes I think I need someone to run my life 
for me." 

 She raised an eyebrow at that, and looked him over again.  Her expression
was odd, as if she were looking for some specific thing that might be hidden
somewhere on his person.

 Jason took the opportunity to look her over in turn.  He saw that what he 
had mistaken in the dim lighting for a tight jacket, was in fact, a severe 
looking leather corset - he could see the heavy boning within the material.  
 It was an amazing piece of engineering.  It looked like a jacket because it 
had a bustier built in to the chest portion with deep-drawn, form fitting 
cups, which jutted nearly straight out, showing ample cleavage.  The garment
fitted tightly from shoulders to well over the hips.  The waist was pulled in 
quite severely, and since it was boned the entire length, it must have been
completely rigid.
No wonder she had seemed breathless when they first walked up!

 The long rubber hobble skirt was tucked underneath it, and revealed the
muscular legs and derrier of someone who definitely had been getting her 
exercise.
 She stared into his eyes for a few minutes, then noticed him noticing her,
and seemed to reach a decision.  
She grinned, saying, "Be careful what you ask for, you may get it!  Right now
though, I feel like dancing.  Come on, you can't sit there being pathetic all 
night!" 
She grabbed his hand and dragged him from his bar stool, while simultaneously 
shoving "Maid Marion" into the vacated seat.  "Marion will stay here, of 
course."

 Jason didn't ask why Marion `would stay there of course'.  Her silence 
and the non-expression she wore worried him, though.  While Mayhem tugged him 
with surprising strength in the direction of the dance floor, he resisted a 
moment, staring back at Marion.  She still had that impassive look on her 
face, staring at nothing in particular.  Suddenly, his pickled bloodstream 
caught up with the sudden rise to his feet, and the dance music faded under a 
loud buzzing in his ears, and all his attention focused, as if through 
binoculars, upon the seated woman.  She stared captivatingly, if rather 
vacantly, back at him, their gazes locked together while several hours passed.
 He had plenty of time to notice little details that had escaped him when 
`Mayhem' had first introduced them.  He saw why she never moved the feather 
duster.  The `bracelet' on the wrist of her dusting hand was locked on by a 
tiny padlock, and attached directly to her belt at the waist.  Moreover, the 
feather duster was literally glued to her rubber glove, she couldn't put it 
down, or grasp anything else with that hand.

 Then too, something was definitely _wrong_ about her face, especially around 
the eyes.  Her makeup's far too thick, he thought to himself.

 THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, 
"IIIf ya wan't ma body, 
 AAND ya think I'm sexy..."  
The music swelled around his head, and as his hearing and head cleared, the 
pounding bass reminded his bladder of several drinks.  He turned reluctantly 
to follow Mistress Mayhem.

  "I can see why your maid doesn't do much dancing," he shouted in her ear,
as they squirmed through the crowd to the dance floor.

 "Yes," she replied, grinning, "you know, it is so hard to get good help these
days, and sometimes they have to be disciplined."

  "Er, yeah.  Well anyway, as I was saying, it's all very well for you to
say, `Go ahead, be yourself', but sometimes, I'm not sure just who I am.
 No, I mean, I know that I'm Jason Stewart; I'm a software engineer; I know 
that I drive a green Saab, and so on, but..."
 
"That's got to be the fastest, most concise introduction I've every heard,"
interrupted Mayhem.

"Okay, okay, but anyway...I lead kind of a double life.  I've got... hobbies, 
interests that I can't do...right out in public, you know?"  Her eyes seemed 
to widen a bit as he said this, but then hardened as he finished his
sentence.

 "Listen," Mayhem shot back, temporarily losing her upper-class affectation 
for a moment, "you damn well CAN do almost anything that isn't downright 
illegal, and quite a bit of that too, in public.  If you don't have the guts 
to, say so.  It's all a matter of where your priorities are.  What's more 
important- your own happiness, or some stranger's opinion of you?"

 "Well, you see, it's not as simple as all that.  I, umm...  I REALLY like 
rubber."  What was he doing?  Jason asked himself.  "It's like... well, an 
obsession," he continued, "I don't expect you to understand."   
 He had just told his secret to a total stranger!  Mayhem was looking at him 
with a faintly amused expression.
 He realized then, that in his desperation for company, he had made a classic 
blunder.  He had blithely assumed from her costume that she shared his 
fetish, and worse, he now realized that he had just opened himself to a storm 
of ridicule from this walking wet dream.  As her smile grew broader, he 
prepared himself for the worst.

 "Oh, I understand, alright,"  'Mistress Mayhem' said.  She winked at him.
"Relax, will you?  'Marion' and I do these things all the time.  The costumes and
bondage games, I mean... hey, are you alright?"  She stared at Jason as he 
stopped his half-hearted attempt at dance, swaying slightly within a clearing
of the crowd.

 Jason had stopped dancing for a moment as what she had said sunk in, then he
did his dazed best to pick up where he had left off.  He was swimming now in
the latex knickers.  The scotch, though it had been excellent, was now
making him sweat, this conversation was making him sweat, and the fantastic, 
delicious appearance of Mayhem herself was making him sweat.  He felt almost 
ready to faint from heat, stress, and simple, unrelieved lust.
  The music had changed to a current rock tune, and he refrained from picking up 
the pace.  He noticed that while Mayhem's stilletto heeled boots were definitely 
not made for dancing, she seemed surprisingly nimble in them.

 Mayhem, seeing him falter several times, finally grabbed him with both hands
by wrist and bicep, saying, "Come on, you'd better sit down before you fall 
down."

 She steered him back toward the bar.  There were no unoccupied stools 
anywhere near where Maid Marion sat waiting.  Next to her, a man who looked 
like nothing so much as a used car salesman was trying to engage her in 
conversation.  She remained a statue, staring off across the dance floor.  

 Mayhem pulled up short in front of the polyester suit replete with polka dot 
bow tie, Jason swaying every so slightly at her side.  Jason hoped this guy's 
outfit was a costume.  He looked like Soupy Sales.  He wasn't particularly 
tall either, at least sitting down, and Mayhem's sky-scraper heels brought her
up to where her leather-armored breasts jutted straight into his face.  It 
occurred to Jason that he had never seen heels as tall as the ones these women 
wore, except in fetish magazines.  He had certainly never seen anyone walk in 
them.  Mayhem's confident stride, and precise, if tiny steps gave her a cachet 
of power, of potency.

 She was giving the used car salesman a hostile stare that should have melted 
his suit to his skin.  He was oblivious in his determination to get Marion's
attention.
 Mayhem tapped him on the shoulder saying, "She can't hear you or see you- she's 
deaf and blind," she said.

 The suit had obviously had too much to drink.  "Well uh, thash okay, he said,
reaching out to hold Marion's hand.  Jason watched Mayhem's hand shoot out,
grabbing the drunk's in a funny way, his wrist bent forward sharply.  He heard 
the man hiss with supressed pain, saw him surge to his feet as if to begin 
battle.  Something about his potential opponent made him pause, however.  
Perhaps it was the fact that even with him standing up, Mayhem was still a 
head taller than he.  Perhaps it was that her leather and rubber costume, 
while undeniably sexy, made her appear less a fragile creature and more the
armored amazon.  Or maybe it was just that she still had his hand and wrist in
that odd grip, and as he stood, she put her other hand atop his, twisting 
downward, just a bit.  The suit gasped, grabbing the bar with his other hand 
for balance.

"You were just leaving," she observed.   Mr. Polyester seemed to agree
wholeheartedly, his beligerence evaporating in favor of a frightened look over 
his shoulder on his way to the door.

 Mayhem seemed to forget him the instantly, and within a few seconds, had 
Jason ensconced in his chair with a cup of coffee, and was examining Marion
closely.  While Jason watched, fascinated with her every movement, she ran
her hands over Marion's face, removed one kid glove to feel under Marion's
armpit, touch her forehead.  She acted like a doctor examining her patient for 
a fever.  After only a moment, she seemed satisfied, and turned back to Jason.
She looked at him seriously.

"Jason, we have to get home pretty soon."  She looked him over, considering
something.  "But since you claim to like our costumes so much, why don't you 
join us for a while, it's still early."  She grinned in what seemed a familiar 
way.

"Umm.  Well, I..."  He was at a loss for words.  He managed to admit to
himself that  Mayhem frightened him, a little.  He struggled for a moment
with his libido and his sense of self-preservation.   

 Mandy smiled reassuringly.  "We have quite a few things back at our house 
that you might like.  Quite a lot of rubber.  I'd say about three-fourths of 
our wardrobe is either rubber, leather or something like.  You can model some
things for use, and perhaps we can persuade Marion to put on something 
more sexy."

 Jason was flabbergasted at her offer.  He was also doubtful there was anything 
so sexy as the latex french maid's outfit Marion had on now, but he didn't say 
that.  Instead, he gushed, "Well, sure, I'd love to!  I've got a lot of rubber 
and such myself, I'd say most of the dresses and... things... would fit either 
you or Marion."  

 At her amused smile he stammered, "Oh! they're not for me!  I've sort of been 
collecting them, in case I met... someone.  I mean someone like you.  I'd be 
happy to have you try some of them on, I'd say most of them would fit either you 
or Marion."  Here he glanced at the maid, feeling rather sorry for her that she 
couldn't join in the conversation.  Apparently, she didn't sign or read lips, as 
she had spent the entire evening staring straight ahead.   He looked back at 
Mayhem, somewhat embarassed by his admission.  
 "Anyway, if you ladies would like to, we could stop at my place for coffee,"
he finished lamely.

"Actually, I'd like that," replied Mayhem gently.  

"By the way," Jason spoke up again, "speaking of Marion, and uh, I don't mean to
sound insensitive but what's her...um, problem?   She's not really deaf is she?  
 Has she... that is, is she being punished or something?"

"I'll explain later," Mayhem answered cryptically.  

 Jason realized belatedly that he might be pushing his luck, but his curiosity 
was killing him.  He ventured another question.  "And why does she wear such 
heavy makeup?  'Seems her face is pretty enough without it.  Or is that part 
of the game?"

 "I said, I'll explain later," repeated Mayhem, rather irritably.

Jason shut up fast, hoping he hadn't offended her somehow.

 It struck him then, that she never asked or suggested things, she TOLD.
It would seem, he thought, that this headstrong woman was quite used to having
things her way.

  The exercise had really made him sweat in the heavy latex pants, and they 
slipped and squeaked over his thighs.  It felt good, and the effects on him must 
have been obvious, for as he shifted in his seat, Mayhem said,
"You seem to be enjoying the party, I must say," as she pointedly stared
at his crotch.  "Perhaps we had best get moving."
 
 "Not yet!" he exclaimed, "in a few minutes, it'll be midnight!  That's
when we all have to take off our masks!  Besides, it's only fair, since
you already know who I am, in name at least, and you're still a complete
mystery to me."  He did his best to smile engagingly.

  "Why, don't you like mysteries?" she asked.  "Perhaps we'll just leave now,
and leave you wondering, `who was that masked lady?'." 

 "No, please don't...  I've waited all my life to meet someone like you.
I know it sounds corny, but it's true.  At least let's get to know each other 
a little before we go our seperate ways."

 "What do you mean, someone like me?" Mayhem shot back.  She smiled
mischievously.  "Since, as you say, you don't know a thing about me, how do 
you know I'm someone you'll like?  I might have bizarre habits, or impossible 
requirements for you."

 Jason looked puzzled. "What do you mean requirements?  What sort of
requirements?"

 She cocked her head up, the feathers of her mask swaying above her head.  
"It seems to me, that you would very much like to get involved with 
me, and it just so happens that I MIGHT be available.  But I can't take on 
just any suitor who walks in off the street, now can I?   I am very choosey 
about who I associate with.  Now, in your case, I immediately recognized a man
in need of certain training."  She stressed the word `training'.  
Jason blushed as she continued.

"I might be persuaded to take you on, IF you agree to a few conditions."
 
  Jason's head swam.  He had only a vague idea of what she was talking about, 
but the dream of his lifetime had just fallen out of the clear blue sky, and 
he wasn't about to take a chance on losing her.  Or them, as the case might 
be.
  He grinned, stood up, and dropped to one knee.  "OK, then tell me," he 
replied in his best television-Shakespeare accent, "how do I persuade you of 
my sincerity and worth, fair lady?"
 
  At that moment, somebody rang a godawful loud bell, and a lady in a 
clown suit nearby shouted, "It's midnight!  It's midnight!  Off with the
masks!" 

  Mayhem smiled at Jason. "Well?" she said. 

 "But you haven't answered my question," he said.

 "Very well."  She raised her head to look down her nose at him.  You must 
undergo trials and tests of my devising, fair knight, before you may win MY 
favor."

 They both laughed. "Fair enough," he answered, and removed his domino.  He 
looked expectantly at 'Mayhem', but she was still giving him the Queen Victoria
stare down her nose.  She said, "You must first promise to submit to any test I 
decide upon, and to undertake any task I set you."

 Jason wasn't sure how serious she was, but he answered, "I promise."

 With a dramatic gesture, 'Mistress Mayhem' removed her mask. 

 It took Jason several seconds to before it hit him. 

 "Mandy!  Mandy Rafool!"  It was his first sweetheart from high school!
 He was in shock as she stood grinning down at him like the Cheshire Cat.  He
staggered back to sit back down.  All he could do was sit and admire her, 
wondering what quirk of fate had brought them together again.

 She looked miffed.  "Is that all you can say?" she demanded, "Some 
greeting for a long-lost lover."

 Jason leaped to his feet, reached for her and before she could say anything, 
was kissing her soundly.  

 Immediately, she pressed one stiletto heel into his foot, causing him to yelp 
and leap back, looking at her with a hurt puppy expression.  "That's the first 
thing we're going to have to teach you," she said, "how to treat a lady with 
respect!"  But she was smiling warmly, nonetheless. 

 "That smarts," he said ruefully.  "Hmm, you're acting fairly calm about...
waitagoddamminute!  Do you mean to tell me that you knew all along, that you've 
been sitting here leading me on, and you knew who I was all along?"  
He glared at her accusingly.

 She stared calmly back at him.  "For one thing," she said, "it's not my fault
you chose to wear a simple domino mask, instead of something more elaborate.  
 Second, if you hadn't been half pickled by the time we got here, you might have
been observant enough to recognize me."  She frowned at the mad rush for the bar 
that the bell and the accompanying announement had precipitated.

 "Anyway, we've got a deal, so let's get out of here before the whole place
turns into a zoo."

"Come on, Maid Marion," she said, ( too loudly Jason thought), "we're leaving." 
Marion, who hadn't moved from her stool since she sat down, stood up. 
 She seemed to teeter on her six-inch heels.

 "Wait! I just noticed!" Jason exclaimed.  "Maid Marion hasn't got a mask to
take off.  Come to think of it, she didn't have one when you two arrived.
 She must be the only person here not wearing a mask.  Now that's hardly fair!"
 By now, he had figured that something was most definitely up with the young
lady, and he still thought to figure it out. 
"You ought to at least introduce us, Mandy," he tried.

 "You've already had as much introduction as you're going to get.  I'm afraid 
she's not allowed to speak to anyone until we get home.  
Besides, she DOES have her mask, in a way.  You'll see."
 
 Jason looked from Mandy to 'Marion' to Mandy again.  "But... oh, alright.
Do you two have a car?"

 "No, we took a taxi.  And you should have seen the cabbies face!  I think we
must have distracted the poor man."  She did not appear geniuinely sympathetic.
"Anyway, you'll drive us, won't you?"

  In the car, with Mandy riding shotgun, Jason couldn't help looking in the
rear view mirror at 'Maid Marion'.  He couldn't figure out what was wrong about
her appearance.  She looked perfectly normal, but she never showed any emotion,
or expression, however slight.  Very odd.  Even when someone was `being serious', 
they usually had some facial movement.  And there was something about her eyes 
that still bugged him.  A passing car blared its horn at him, and he concentrated
on his driving.  Mandy was filling him in on the last several years.

 "You see, I just realized one day that I was cutting off half the human
race.  And, well, you know how horny I was in high school?"

 "Uh, yeah?"

 "For me anyway, it got worse the older I got.  Or better, depending on
how you look at it."

 "Oh."  Brilliant comment, thought Jason.  Really snappy repartee.

  Mandys hand was migrating into Jason's crotch.  "So, one saturday, I was
feeling lonely and very horny... I'd just broken up with George, so I was
pretty digusted with men in general.  All of my so-called friends were really
just business people, and like I said before, I had already left the money
circle behind.  Besides, most of them were men.  I decided I needed some 
friends I could talk to.  I went to The Three Sisters."

 "What's that?"

 "It's a gay bar.  For women.  I met a woman named Sandra there, and she
invited me to a party.  I had a few drinks to get my courage up and I went.
 It was a pretty wild party, with a lot of leather and rubber, cross-dressers,
corsetry nuts, you name it, most of the people were pretty kinky, one way or
another.  Anyway, somehow I ended up doing this scene with a couple from Ohio, 
they were really into fetishes, bondage, dressing for pleasure, a lot of 
things I'd been playing around the edges of for years.  We became pretty good
friends.  That woman taught me a lot about men."
 "Since then, I've met 'Marion' here, and one or two others, and we've been
having a grand time ever since."

 Jason was looking a little pale.  "Are you saying you're gay?  A lesbian?"

 "No.  I'm bisexual.  And what if I were strictly les?  Would you think I was 
subhuman?  I had thought you were more open minded than that."  Jason blushed.
"I've come to realize," continued Mandy, "that it doesn't matter what labels 
other people put on me, what matters is whether I'm enjoying myself.  
I do what pleases me."
 
 "And what exactly is it that pleases you?" Jason queried.

 "You'll see when we get to the house.  Do you want to stop off at your place, 
and pick up some clothes?"

 "That depends. How long would you like me to stay?"

                                                (to be continued...)


From LabRat@i-link.net Sun May 19 09:39:52 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Rubber/Dungeon Story - Latex.03 (3/17)
From: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell)
Date: Sun, 19 May 1996 11:39:52 -0500

I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may
contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality.  If this is
offensive do not read - delete file.  For those of us who enjoy ....
enjoy!  Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up
with what I have now.

From: blemieux@isis.cs.du.edu (blemieux@nyx.cs.du.edu)
Subject: Adventures, Ch.3 (story)


			      Adventures in Rubber
				       by Dr. Hevea

				    (part 3)

 Mandy stared at nothing out the windshield.  "Oh, about a week should
 do."

 "A week!  I was thinking of hours!  I can't stay a week, I've got to
 be back to work on Monday."

 "Oh, come on," Mandy said reproachfully, "we haven't seen each other
 in years.  Besides, you look like you could use a vacation.  Don't you
have some vacation time you could use?"

 "Well... I've got thirty days a year, and I haven't used any yet,
 but.."

 "Then it's final!  I'll hear no more about it.  We'll just stop off at
your place, pick up this kinky wardrobe of yours, and then head for my
place.

 This will be a blast, you'll see."

 "Oh, what-the-hell!  Why not?  Like you said, it's been a while.
 Damn, girl!  How long's it been- ten years?

 "I told you before.  I'm a woman, not a girl.  Please don't make that
mistake again."  Something in her tone made Jason glance sideways at
her.

 She was looking straight at him, with a very hard look in her eye.

 "Jeez, hey, no problem," he said, "Take it easy."  She didn't say
anything else for quite a few miles.

 Finally, to break the silence, Jason said, "So what was that business
with the drunk's wrist?  He looked like he was having a coronary!"

 "Aikido," Mandy replied. "When you enjoy dressing the way we do,
sometimes you have to remind men of their place.  You know, the whole
syndrome of `If she's dressed that way, she must be ASKING for it.'
You have to defend yourself, because the police can't and the
courts...well, by the time you get to the courts, it's too late, and
they probably won't do anything anyway."

 "Why do I get the impression you've had some bad experiences?" asked
Jason.

 "I have," she replied.  "Maid Marion and I were walking back to our
car from a play party.  It was kind of a bondage ... fetish ...
just-for-fun kind of thing.  Marion had gotten both her arms and legs
put into casts... well, it was a strange and exhausting evening.  Some
social cancer saw a cripple walking with a sex goddess and decided we
were fair game.  I got scraped up quite a bit, and Mandy got cut on her
hand, but we came out on top.  So to speak."

 "What happened to your assailant?"

 "He got hospitalized with several broken ribs and a crushed testicle.
Marion couldn't walk without some crutches we'd improvised at the
party, but her arm casts made damn good clubs!"   They both chuckled at
this.


 When they reached his apartment, Jason looked over at his rediscovered
lover and said, "Listen, do you think you could give me a hand with the
latex and stuff?  It's kind of heavy."

 The domelight showed Mandy feigning shock.  "Do I look like menial
labor?  Besides, I have to stay here to make sure our maid doesn't run
away."

 Jason laughed. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to run away from you!"

 As he headed for the steps, she muttered at his back, "You might be
surprised, my love, you might be surprised."

 As soon as Jason had disappeared inside, she quickly opened the door,
and got in the back seat with their other passenger.

 Inside, Jason dashed through the apartment, collecting luggage,
toiletries kit, towels, and clothes.  These were crammed into a small
valise.  From a closet he dragged out a huge steamer trunk, dragged it
into the bedroom and opened it on the floor, talking to himself all the
while.

 "Boy, oh boy, you have really got yourself into it this time.  You
haven't seen this woman for how many years, and the first thing you do
is take a week of vacation just to get into her pants again.  And gawd,
has she changed!  She's been sleeping with women, she's on some kind of
power trip, and she totes around some kind of groupie who's into
who-knows-what."

 But his libido had other things to say:  Yeah, but look how she's
grown...  what a woman!  And did you see her outfit?  That latex
hobble skirt is so thick she can barely walk, and those boots- wow!
Listen man, don't be a fool-you pass this up, you may never see her
again.

 Apparently, his balls were winning the argument, because he threw open
another closet, revealing his treasure of rubber garments, some hanging
over wide, padded hangers, some folded in neat piles on shelves.  All
of it had been lovingly polished until it gleamed like patent leather.

 He also opened several drawers to retrieve bondage gear, some
unusually restrictive clothes, and several corsets.  All of it was
dumped unceremoniously into the huge trunk.  On the top of this pile he
tossed several containers of talc, with which to powder the latex.

 He paused at the bar for a shot of dutch courage, then thought better
of it.  "Damn! I'm driving," he muttered.

 Having wrestled the heavy trunk and his overnighter to the head of the
sidewalk steps, he paused to catch his breath.  Looking down to the
car, he saw Mandy in the back seat with the other young woman.  She
appeared to be doing something under the other's skirt.

 "Well, get used to it, chum," Jason told himself, and huffed slowly
down the stairs.  He got the trunk loaded, and as he got into the
drivers seat, he noticed an audible panting coming from the back seat.
When he looked in the rear-view mirror, ` Maid Marion's ' expression
hadn't changed a bit, although he saw that her eyes were wide, as if
she had been startled or excited by something, and was trying to hide
it.  He thought about the two of them enjoying each other in the back
seat while he had been packing arm loads of rubberwear upstairs.

 It bothered him to think he might have to share Mandy's attentions
with some one else, but then... it also excited him to think of the
two women screwing in tight, shiny, and sweaty latex outfits, too.

 He realized he was holding a double standard.  That bothered him too,
since he'd always thought of himself as open minded.  Now he knew how
difficult it could really be to be TRULY open minded.  He resolved not
to show his discomfort with the two women's relationship until he had
had time to think it over, and perhaps, get to know the mystery woman
in the maid's uniform.

 "It really bugs you that Marion and I are lovers, doesn't it?" asked
Mandy.

 Shit, thought Jason.  So much for keeping secrets.  "Am I that
transparent?" he asked her.

 "I'd claim it was all women's intuition, but I don't think I have
any.  I caught a glimpse of you at the top of the stairs, and I just
watched your face when you got into the car.  You were looking pretty
stoic, kind of overly nonchalant, so I guessed."

 "Yeah, I guess I was...well, AM a little bugged," admitted Jason.
"Must be the way I was raised."  He looked sheepishly at the floor,
letting the engine idle while they talked.

 "Thought so.  Usually, I'd give you my standard half-hour lecture
about bisexuality, but I know you, and it would be an insult to your
intelligence.  I'm going to assume that you will find a way to deal
with it, because if you can't, you can NOT be a part of my life."

 Jason looked very thoughtful as he put the car into gear, and they
accelerated down the street.

 After they were on the highway again, he asked, "So, where is this
retreat of yours, my dear?"

 Mandy, who was once again in the front seat retorted, "Hah!  I'm not
your dear yet!  You still haven't passed my tests, survived my trials,
fair knight."

 Jason shot her a glance. She wore a wry grin and a twinkle in her
eye.  "All right lady, you win.  Just point me to the sword in the
stone, and I'll do my best."

 "That's the spirit!  Ok, just take 276 south to Morton Road..."


 Sometime later, by then nearly three in the morning, they pulled into
a gravel lane, shaded by huge oaks.  A metal box set into the massive
brick gate post on Jason's side of the drive required him to punch in a
combination which Mandy gave him, to open the massive wrought iron
gate.

 "Jeee-zus!  What are you doing for a living these days?  You didn't
tell me you were loaded now."

 "You didn't ask.  I'm sorry to say that I didn't earn all of it.  My
father passed away several years ago, leaving me his company holdings
and enough liquid assets to build this place."

 "I'm sorry, I didn't know.  If there's..."

 "Oh, it's alright.  It was sudden and painless.  In any case, I made
quite a bit on my own in the market, but the inheritance allowed me to
retire earlier, and with quite a bit more income.  I really don't have
an interest in business anymore, so I have accountants and lawyers run
the consulting firm.  I get about half of the profits.  It lets me
pursue my interests in privacy and comfort, and if I'm careful with my
funds, I can almost live extravagantly."

 Driving up the lane revealed a large and picturesque cottage style
country house.  It was completely dark, not a single light in any of
the windows.

 "You two live here alone?" Jason asked, "You should at least leave a
light on."

 "Oh, there are burglar alarms.  Not to mention Charlemagne and
Attila.  Watch."

 As they pulled up in front of the stone porch, a deep, loud barking
began, and several flood lights kicked on, illuminating the entire
front lawn.

 "You see: the latest electronic wizardry- anything that ignores the
warning signs, climbs that iron fence has to face the lights and then
Charley and 'Tilla.

  Two huge Rottweillers appeared at a dead run, surrounding the car.
Mandy rolled down the window, commanding, "Charley! 'Tilla!  Make
friends.  Heel!" The dogs came off of alert, and meekly sat down on her
side of the car.  "It's alright, you can get out now," she told Jason.

 "O-K, I'm convinced, you don't need to leave a light on," replied
Jason, nervously eyeing the dogs as he pulled the bags from the trunk.
They watched him constantly, but never moved.

 While man-handling the trunks up the stairs, he took advantage of his
position to watch ` Maid Marion's ' muscular bottom wriggling within a
pair of tight black latex briefs under her short rubber skirt.  Very
shortly, he was having trouble walking again.

 When they were all inside, and Jason had finished ooh-ing and aah-ing
over the opulent front hall, they moved into the adjacent library
where he collapsed into an overstuffed leather chair.  Maid Marion
remained standing just inside the room.  He took a moment to drink in
the sight of the black and white latex maid's uniform. Now, in the
better light of the house, it looked even better than before.  The
second-skin bustier covered her completely up to the neck, where a
frilly Elizabethen collar topped the outfit.  He saw that her white
doily apron was also made from rubber, although it had a softer, mat
finish.  The rest of her uniform was polished to a high gloss.  She had
quite a curvaceous and well-endowed figure, too.  Although her bust
was not as spectacular as Mandy's, much of that must have been due to
Mandy's outrageous bullet-bra corset-jacket.

  The perfect fit of both their costumes was emphasized by the
highlights thrown on the skin tight material by the overhead lights.
He wondered what it felt like to have breasts with sensitive nipples
rubbing within the lovely, stretchy stuff.

It was to be only a few days before he found out.

  In an attempt to start the conversation again, Jason exclaimed,
"Whew!  That chest was heavy.  Do you by any chance have something
cold and wet for a man dying of thirst?  If you'll point me toward the
bar..."

 "Just a minute."  Mandy was doing something at the maids collar.  "I
promised I'd take Flo... uh, Marion's mask off as soon as we got
home...  There!" she exclaimed, and with a flourish, removed the dark
wig from the maid's head.

 "Mask?" Jason queried, "But she's not wearing..."

 "Shush!  Watch and learn," she admonished.  She pulled at the maids
neck, and began peeling a strip of flesh colored tape from the other
woman's neck.  Beneath it were fine, closely spaced laces running up
the back of her head!

 As these were loosened, Jason it became clear what had been wrong with
the woman's eyes.  Her head was completely enclosed in a skin-tight
thin rubber sheath, molded and colored to closely immitate a woman's
head and face.

 With makeup over it, it had looked quite natural.  Only the hapless
woman's eyes had shown through carefully shaped holes in the face.  As
Mandy peeled the hood off the woman's head to the front, a pretty,
young face was revealed.

 "Jason, allow me to introduce Flora, my house mate."

						   (to be continued...)


From LabRat@i-link.net Sun May 19 09:42:36 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Rubber/Dungeon Story - Latex.04 (4/17)
From: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell)
Date: Sun, 19 May 1996 11:42:36 -0500

I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may
contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality.  If this is
offensive do not read - delete file.  For those of us who enjoy ....
enjoy!  Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up
with what I have now.

                             Adventures in Rubber
                                      by
                                    Dr. Hevea

                                   ( part 4 )

 Jason looked on in amazement as Mandy gently removed a rubber balloon
gag from Flora's mouth, and finished removing the mask.  Her real face
was remarkably similar to the face of the mask, although a little
flushed-looking.  Jason guessed that the mask had been molded from her
actual features.

 Flora blinked, sputtered and licked her lips several times. "Ahh.
Roowaah.  Christ, Mandy, did you have to leave it on  so long?  I
thought I'd die of thirst!"
 Jason stared as Mandy finished removing Flora's restraints.  Flora had
quite a pretty face, if not quite up to covergirl standards, and the
tight rubber maids' dress emphasized her hourglass figure.
"Incredible!" he murmured.

 "Oh, this is nothing," Mandy said, "we've done things much more
interesting, haven't we, my dear?"  Flora blushed.

 "Umm, Flora, you must be pretty brave to wear a rubber mask like that
for so long," Jason commented, "it must have been very uncomfortable."

 Flora smiled.  "A little, but I don't mind.  After a while, my face
does get a little numb, but that's okay.  Actually, this one fits like
a second skin.  A friend of Mandy's makes latex masks for the movie
industry, you know- zombies and such.  He made this one for us.  And
believe me, I've worn much more uncomfortable things.  I'm actually a
bit of a pig when it comes to hoods and helmets.  It feels good to have
my head wrapped in a tight rubber hood.  I can't explain it," she
finished lamely.  "Of course," she added, "Mandy knows I like them, so
she's always trying to make them more difficult to wear."

 "OR... I just leave her in it for eight hours or so," Mandy put in.
"If it's a severe enough hood, that usually wears down her resistance."
  She got up from the couch.  "Why don't you fix us some drinks, Flora,
while I ahh, slip into something more comfortable, as they say." She
disappeared up the stairs.

 While Flora got creative with ethanol and ice, Jason looked around the
paneled sitting room.  "This is really quite some place you have
here.  Mandy's father must have had quite a flair for luxury."

 "Oh no, he had nothing to do with it.  This is entirely her own
creation," she answered.  She minced over to him with the drinks,
giving him an excellent lesson in the difficulty of walking in stiletto
heels.  "It's quite decadent really.  We have several bedroom suites, a
hot-tub, a sauna, a recreation room, and Mandy's added some very comfy
refinements, like this library.  There are reading nooks all over the
house, too.  We're both book worms, I'm afraid.  We've been very happy
here."

 "You didn't look very happy when she took that mask off you," he
countered.

 "Oh, that's just part of the game," she said.  "I can't admit that I
didn't really mind whatever she's done to me, or she'll just try to
make it worse the next time.  She looked shyly at the floor.  "I like
being in that sort of costume," she said and looked up into his eyes.
"And I gather you do too."

 "Uh, well, I'm not into wearing dresses, if that's what you mean, but,
yeah." I've been into rubber and latex for... well for a long time.
You see, I wasn't shocked at your outfit, just the mask.  It's some
kind of bondage helmet, isn't it?  I've seen them in magazines, but I
thought that was just for sado...  sadomasochists.  I mean, you guys
aren't into pain are you?"

 Flora looked amused.  "Weeelll, I'm not really into the heavy whipping
and stuff, but a little discomfort, fr'instance, if it's part of
bondage, I don't mind at all.  And minor pain, like... well, anyway,
minor pain is okay, it kind of reminds you that you're alive, and that
you're playing with power.  Sure, Mandy and I, we do some pretty wild
things.  Some things that might shock you."

"But you're not into say, whipping?"

  "The closest I ever came to REAL pain were my piercings, and they
were over so fast, I hardly felt it."

 Jason gave her a blank look. "Piercings?" he inquired.

 She smiled and licked her lips.  "I'll show you sometime, if I can.
I'd show you now, but Mandy's got me locked in this damned chastity
belt."

 Jason looked shocked.  "Chastity belt!  That's so Victorian!  Surely
she doesn't mean to keep you from, from..." he trailed off,
embarassed.  He realized that the drink was loosening his tongue, and
he'd have to be careful.

 Flora looked slyly sideways at him.  "Oh don't be such a prude.  I
don't know how long you knew Mandy, but she's changed since you guys
were kids.  She's just not that impressed with most men.  She says she
wants to keep me for herself, and frankly, I don't mind.  Most men are
such... well, prudes when it comes to dressing for pleasure.  As far as
they're concerned, dressing kinky is just dressing sexy, so it's fine
for women, but otherwise, it's for `sissies'.  And then there's the
macho attitude of most males... phooey."

 Jason noticed her shifting her weight back and forth a bit, her hips
swaying in a slightly provacative manner.  He tried to concentrate on
the topic at hand.
 "Uh, she doesn't seem to mind me," he said.  "You know, we go back a
long way, Mandy and I.  She's the reason I got into the rubber thing
in the first place."

 "Okay, I have to admit it," Flora said. "Mandy's told me all about
you.  I got kind of jealous, for a while, because she was tracking you
down, planning...well, I'm not sure what she was planning.  Anyway,
except for a few twinges of jealousy, I've really been looking forward
to meeting you.  Mandy said that when you guys met, back in high
school, wasn't it?  that she wasn't really kinky yet- that she just
liked dressing sexy.  I guess her parents were very kinky though- it's
no surprise she is the way she is."

 Jason smiled.  "She is a very pursuasive woman," he observed.  Flora
seemed to want to talk, so he'd let her.  Moreover, she seemed to be
going somewhere with the topic, and he was curious where she would end
up.

 "She completely subverted me, that's for sure!  When we met, my idea
of dressing for pleasure was solely based on looks- what you could buy
from Frederick's.  I thought that kinky meant oral sex.  Everything
she's introduced me to, I've loved!  Every so often though, she'd
mention you.  Maybe you don't realize it, but I think that deep down
inside, she really fell hard for you."

"Yeah, well, I can tell you I was pretty crushed when she had to move
to DC," Jason replied. "She seemed almost indifferent, though."

"Don't sell her short!  She's a very tough lady, and she's great at
hiding her true feelings."

 "Um.  Well, I'm flattered that you thought of me," Jason said.  "And
may I say, that I am very glad to have met you, too.  Do you have any
idea how rare it is to find women with fetishes like this?  Most of us
rubber nuts are men."

  Flora smiled, looking up through her eyelashes at him, and closing
the distance between them.  She seemed to be shifting her weight
quite a lot now, as if something was making her nervous.
 "You're the first man who really liked our costumes for themselves,"
she said, "not just because they were on a female body.  That's very
refreshing, at least from my point of view.  As for this damn chastity
belt, it's actually quite nice at first, but it gets to be distracting
after a while."
 She licked her lips slowly and deliberately.

 "I should say so," said Jason, taking her hands in his.  "You've
certainly been distracting me for some time now.  How do you think _I_
feel?  I get turned on this way too, you know, and I've been wearing
these tight latex knickers for half a day now."

 Her only answer was to take one of his hands in hers, smiling at him.
Jasons eyes grew wide as she pulled one of his hands under the flounces
of her rubber skirt.  "What if she comes back?" he whispered.  She
ignored him, pressing his hand into her crotch.  "Flora!" he whispered
fiercely, if Mandy finds us like this..." Her eyes were closed.
Jason's hand touched something hard and smooth beneath the concealing
folds of the rubber.

She ignored his questions.
 "See?" she breathed.  "It completely covers the important parts, like
a girdle.  It's made of rawhide leather, molded to me while it was
wet, then dried and laminated with latex."  With his hand pressed under
hers, she was moving the front of the chastity belt up and down
slightly, probably all the movement the tight-fitting appliance would
allow.

  She leaned forward to whisper some more, her breath hot and moist in
his ear.  "But it's not unpleasant to wear, oh no.  You see,
Mandy...ahh... didn't want me to get bored, so she installed a pair of
thick rubber dildoes in it, and there are...mmmm.... a bunch of little
rubber fingers right over my clit.  Ohh, I can't quite...ah, damn!" she
exclaimed softly. "It's just barely too tight to let me get off."

 "Incredible," Jason sighed, "no wonder you seemed distracted at the
party." Her panting in his ear, and the feel of this strange hardness
between her legs had really worked him over.  Despite his determination
to remain a gentleman, he had become equally determined to obtain
release, whether with Flora or with Mandy, at this point he hardly
cared.

 "It's really trouble when I move," she said, "I can ignore it when I'm
sitting.  When I want to, that is."  She squirmed her derrier around
for his amusement.  "Of course, I couldn't hear well, or say anything
at the party, because of the mask and gag. I felt wonderfully helpless,
and seeing you in those pants made me horny as hell.  You have great
buns, you know."

 She began massaging his crotch through his rubber jeans.  Jason was
worrying that he might cum in his pants when they heard footsteps
coming down the stairs.

 "I'll visit you tonight," Flora whispered, and gave his ear a parting
nibble before she moved away from him to sit in one of the reading
chairs.

 "I hope you two are getting on alright," Mandy called out from the
landing.  She winked at Jason as she walked in the room.  "She hasn't
molested you too badly I hope.  You've only just got here, and I'm sure
you're tired after all that booze and dancing."

 Jason could say nothing in reply, he just stared.  His high school
love had been transformed.  Before him stood five feet and ten inches
of full-flowered womanhood.  She had donned a complex-looking catsuit
of white patent leather that completely covered her body except for her
face.  Her head was covered by the attached hood, fitted skin-tight,
that laced at the sides, the lacing continuing down along the sides of
her neck, disappearing under her cape.  The lines of lacing re-appeared
from under her arms, and curved inward along matching graceful lines to
pass over the hips and down the front of her legs to her toes, laced
tightly all the way down.
 Her cupped breasts peeked out from the folds of a floor-length black
latex cape with a high-backed 'Dracula' style collar.  "How do you
like it?" she asked.

 Jason was floored.  She looked like something out of one of his wet
dreams.  He had seen catsuits like this in a European fetish magazine,
but having her here, walking around, talking to him...it was hard to
believe after all his lonely years.

"It's... it's wonderful!" he stammered.  "You look like...scratch
that.  You ARE a goddess.  You look as if you'd been poured into it.
My god, Mandy, you've really outdone yourself.  I guess, I guess I
hadn't realized until now that you've become a woman.  All these years
I've remembered you as a high school girl, and now... well, you're a
very beautiful woman, Mandy."

 She glowed at his worshipful praise, removed the cape, and pirouetted
for them.  Jason saw that the suit was tightly laced down the arms,
and at the front and back of the waist, as well.  In fact, he
recognized boning in that waist- it had a built in corset!  It pulled
her figure into a fantastic hour-glass shape.

 The breast cups of the suit were hand-tooled to resemble nude breasts
with the nipples standing out.  The boots had five inch heels and were
part of the suit, laced tightly from the toes to the tops of her
thighs, where they joined smoothly at the hip.

 There was some kind of black fitting nestled in her crotch, but he
couldn't figure out what it was.

 "Really, Mandy, it's the nicest outfit you own," Flora added, "you
know I love to see it on you.  But you should have asked me to help, I
know how difficult those laces are."

 "I managed, as you can see," Mandy replied primly.  "I'm glad you like
it, Jason,"  she added, heading for the bar.  She picked up her drink
and sniffed it.  "Stolychnaya? " she inquired of Flora.

 "Of course.  With white pepper, the way you like it.  Shall we toast
our guest, mistress?"

 "But yes!" Mandy exclaimed, "Here's to Jason, may his latex never lose
its shine, and may he love all that he learns here!"

 Mandy drained the slender vodka glass at a gulp and sighed.  "Ahh!
That hits the spot.  Oh! Jason, you have to call your office,
remember?  You promised you'd stay for a week."

Jason looked thoughtful.
"I tell you what," he said, "after what I've just seen, I know how I
want to spend my vacation.  I'm going to take two weeks off, if it's
alright with you."

 "Of course it's alright with us!  Don't be silly.  Oh, damn.  You
can't call now, it's four in the morning, and tomorrow's Saturday.
Can you call in early Monday morning?"

 "No problem, I can just leave a message with the answering service.
I'm kind of my own department anyway, and I finished my last coding
project a week ago.  Where's your phone?"

 When Jason had made the call, Mandy took him by an arm, and indicated
that Flora should take the other.

 "Well, Jason, would you like the nickel tour or do you just want to
sack out?  I imagine you're eager to see your bed after the long day
you've had."

 Jason tore his eyes away from her figure.  "Why ah, yes! Thanks!  A
bed would be good," he managed to say.  They trooped up the wide,
curving front staircase, three abreast.

 At the end of a teak-paneled hallway, she opened a set of ornate
double doors. "These will be your rooms.  Bathroom on the left,
wardrobe and dressers on the right.  Oh, and there's a surprise on the
bed, it's just for special occasions, we can change them for satin
later.  Flora will get your bags.  I'll be back later to check on
you."  She paused in the hall, one hand still on the doorframe.  "Oh,
and if you need anything, I'd rather you didn't go wandering
around...just use the bell pull there."  She nodded toward a tassled
embroidered tape, hanging next to the bed.

 When they had left, Jason wandered around his room, bemused by it's
lavish appointments.  Rather than closets, a huge cherry armoir took
up most of one wall, with an equally large matching chest of drawers on
the oppposite wall.

 The walls were hung with burgundy velvet curtains, the floor was
carpeted with a deep pile in the same color, and the french
four-poster bed was hung with more velvet curtains.
 The place looked like a sultan's palace!  Wondering what the surprise
was, he inspected the bed. He was delighted to find it covered in
sheets of soft amber latex rubber topped by a thick comforter of shiny
black latex.  He wondered how he'd ever get to sleep in sheets like
that.  He noticed that the upstairs was a little on the chill side,
though, and he hoped it would be enough to keep him from sweating badly
in all that rubber.

 Flora trudged in, puffing, with his trunk and valise.  "You'll have to
unpack yourself, I'm afraid, the mistress wants her bath about now."
She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'll be back later."  She gave him
a quick taste of her tongue and a brief squeeze at his crotch and was
gone, leaving only the memory of her rubber-covered breasts pressing
against him.

 Jason stood bewildered in the middle of his room for a moment, and
then began to unpack.

 He decided to make use of the drawers and the wardrobe, and began
carefully folding and stowing what he'd brought, both the kinky and
the mundane.  He noticed one of the drawers was locked.  When he'd
finished, and was ready for bed, it was almost an hour later.  Since
she hadn't showed up yet, he decided to look for Mandy to ask what time
they usually got up.  Forgetting her warning about "wandering around",
he headed out to explore.  At a door half way down the hall, he
stopped, hearing soft moans from within.  Not really wanting to peep,
he did anyway, peeking past the half-open door.  It was obvious where
the noise was coming from, but it took him a few moments to figure out
exactly what was going on.  It was a bizarre scene.

 Mandy was sitting astride what looked like a child's wooden
'rocking-horse', although few children had hobby horses like this
one.  Flora was strapped into a harness under the seat, inside the
open-frame "body" of the horse, her body arched back, and her legs
bound to the rockers in a kneeling position.  Her arms were laced
behind her into a tight leather armbinder which was attached to the
harness at her waist.  Her head was laced into a tight leather helmet
the face of which was attached to the bottom of the saddle.  Unable to
move, she was forced to service her mistress as she rocked back and
forth.

 Mandy was moaning again.  "Yes, give me your tongue, you little slut,"
she husked.  Jason was shocked.  Flora was moaning too, and from her
sounds might have been enjoying the proceedings as much as Mandy.
Mandy was still wearing the white leather bootsuit, and for a moment
Jason wondered how she could be enjoying it so much.  Then he
remembered the unexplained crotch fitting he had seen earlier.  It must
be a removable patch, he thought.

 Presently, Mandy finished and rose from her seat, breathing hard,
flushed and smiling.  Jason thought that to be a prudent moment to
leave, and returned as quickly and quietly as he could to his room.

				   -=*=-

 Jason lay in bed between latex sheets, somewhat stunned.  He wasn't
exactly offended by what he'd seen, rather to his surprise he was
terribly aroused.  His hand moved unconsciously to his cock.  He had
wanted to join them.  He imagined himself in Floras place, and he
wondered at this, because it excited him terribly.
He drifted off to sleep hearing Mandy's cries of lust in his mind.

 When Jason awoke, it was pitch black, and for a moment, he knew only
that he was NOT in his own bed.  Then the events of the day came back
to him.  He lay still for a moment, wondering what had awakened him.

"Jason?" a disembodied voice called softly.

 Dimly, her realized he knew that voice, but couldn't place it.  "Who's
there?" he asked, reaching for the bedside lamp.

 The figure revealed in the sudden light made him wonder if he was
still dreaming.  A totally hairless android with large, high-set
breasts and a slender waist stood next to the bed.

 "It's me, Flora," she said.  She turned on the other bedside lamp.
Jason stared as she climbed into the bed.  He moved over clumsily.
"How do I look?" she asked.

 Finally he realized that she was wearing a catsuit.  A catsuit of
pinkish-tan, flesh-colored rubber that completely covered her from
head to toe.  Her hair was apparently concealed beneath the skin-tight
hood attached to the suit.  He wondered for a moment how she had room
for her hair under that form-fitting hood.  She looked delicious.  "You
look delicious," he said.

She slithered up his body.  Hugging him and wrapping her legs closely
around his.  "Delicious enough to eat?" she asked.  He nodded
silently.  She turned around to face his feet, and pulling a zipper at
her crotch, promptly sat on his face.
 Jason was delighted to find that no chastity belt barred the way now.
He took a deep breath and dove in.  Then immediately drew back.  There
was hardware in there!  In the soft light of the reading lamps he could
see several metal rings gleaming within her sex.  They were silver
colored, about 1/2 an inch in diameter, and very sturdy looking.  There
were five pierced through each labia!  He had never seen anything like
it.

It struck him as primitive... alien... and bizarre.  It turned him on.

There was another gold ring, larger and thicker than the others,
through her clitoris.  He put his tongue through it, and tugged
experimentally.  She moaned and pushed his head into the pillows with
her sex.

 "Mandy removed my chastity belt as a reward for being nice to her,"
she murmured.  "Mmmm, I'll tell you about it later.  That feels very
nice, you know."  She unbuttoned his pyjama pants.  He was very hard,
his cock jerking back and forth slightly with his pulse.  She slowly
licked the length of his shaft, then engulfed him.

 Flora turned out to have a mouth as skilled as it was luscious in
appearance, but all Jason could think of was the rocking horse and it
wasn't Flora anymore but Mandy moving across his face, and he imagined
his arms immobilized as Flora's had been, Mandy's sex pushing through
the opening in her leather suit, and he was Flora, and.. and.. they
came almost simultaneously, Jason stifling a shout at the last second.
After resting a bit, Flora rolled off of him, cuddling up next to him,
surrounding him with rubber-covered arms and legs.  "I hope you don't
mind taking a break, love," she said dreamily, "I'm so tired..."

But Jason wasn't listening to her or anyone else.
  The next time Jason awoke, it was to the sound of angry, but muted
voices.  Mandy was shoving Flora out the door.  "..and I'll deal with
you later!" she hissed.

 Jason sat up in bed.  Mandy looked stern for a moment, but then her
face softened suddenly, and she said, "Boys will be boys.  Breakfast
is ready, sleepyhead, why don't you shower and dress and meet us
downstairs?"

 Jason was completely confused. "But... hey, it's not like you think..
I mean..." "Don't you worry your gorgeous head about it.  You'll be
too busy with my trials today to think of anything else.  See you
downstairs!" She closed the door behind her.

 Jason was dumbfounded.  He'd really fouled things up last night by
letting Flora remain in his bed, and now Mandy was acting weird.  I
hope the rest of the week isn't like this, he thought.  When he had
finished showering and shaving, he decided to surprise Mandy by wearing
a new silk bathrobe down to breakfast.  But no sooner had he stepped
from the bathroom, than something dark and heavy came whooshing down
over his head, as Mandy's voice cried, "Gotcha!".

 She had pulled some kind of bag over his head.  "Hey!" he shouted,
"What the...!"  He struggled to get it off, but it covered him to his
hips, and he couldn't get a purchase from the inside.  "No fair,
dammit! Mandy, let me out of here!  I'll get you for this, wench!"

 Mandy huffed and puffed as she hurried to buckle straps over the
outside.  She paused when she had him fairly secure.  "Wench is it?
You're in no position to be insulting, bucko!  I'll teach you to screw
the maid behind my back!"  She laughed and pulled a strap up through
his crotch.
 "OW!" he exclaimed, "be careful!  What are you trying to pull?" Mandy
smiled and exclaimed, "I'm pulling this!"  She tightened another
leather strap.  "And this!", another strap.  "And this!" another.

 Inside the bag, Jason was running out of room to struggle.  He could
hardly move his arms now, and his breath came in gasps.  The interior
smelled strongly of leather.

"Let me out, PLEASE," he wheezed, "I'll smother!"  Fresh air and light
streamed in through a sudden opening.  He saw Mandy's smiling face
through the zipper as she said, "Now we can't have you suffocating, can
we?  Since you demonstrated your eagerness with Flora, I've decided to
start your training a little early." She snugged up another strap,
taking the last of the slack out of the body binder.

 "Training? What is this training stuff you keep babbling about?" Jason
demanded.

 "Why, don't you remember?  You promised to endure any trial,
accomplish any task, in order to win my love.  This is your first
trial.  You may as well go along with it, as you haven't much choice
now, have you?"

 Oh shit, thought Jason,  she's gone off the rails.  His thoughts ran
screaming in little circles.  He had to admit, he was stuck.  He
wondered whether she'd let him go if he played along for a while.  Then
he could escape.  But he wanted her like anything, and would have done
anything for her even now.  Besides, he couldn't escape right now.  He
could no longer move his arms, and the straps through his crotch
prevented him shrugging off the... bag or whatever it was.  It covered
his head too, and as she talked, she did something that tightened that
too, the leather compressing his face and head tightly.  He sighed.  It
was difficult now, to even open his mouth.  "All right," he mumbled
through the leather, "I'll go along with it."

 Mandy snorted.  "As if you had any choice."  She turned him to look in
the bathroom mirror.  "Now aren't you a pretty package?" she asked.

 He looked at his reflection.  He was bound in a torso-shaped leather
binder, like a straight jacket without sleeves.  It covered him from
his head to his hips.  Several heavy leather straps across the back and
sides pulled it tight, and two straps went throught the crotch to
buckle in back.  He stared out through a zipper in the attached
helmet.  His arms had been forced up to cross in front of his chest.
He couldn't budge anything above his hips.
 Mandy fondled his cock for a moment, and despite himself, he found
himself growing hard.  Then she shoved him toward the bed.

"Why don't you just rest here while I see to Flora?"  She gave him a
shove.  He fell helplessly to the mattress. To his surprise, she bent
over and kissed his eyes. Then she closed the zipper, shutting off his
vision. He heard rustling clothes and a moment later she undid the zip
over his mouth.

 "Here, my love, you can chew on my panties while you're waiting," she
said, and stuffed a wad of satin into his mouth.  He sputtered and
tried to object, but she pushed until his mouth was full and closed the
zipper.  He immediately tried to spit it out, but the helmet was too
tight over his mouth.  He forced himself to breath calmly through his
nose.  Seconds later, he heard the door close.  Well, damn!  He
thought, what have I got myself into?  This bitch is nuts!  How am I
going to get out of this?  He struggled again, but it was no use trying
to free his arms.  Already they ached somewhat from their cramped
positions.  He thought of getting to his feet and trying to get out,
but then realized his true situation.  Where could he get to without
being able to see?
 He didn't know the layout of the house, and then outside, there were
those huge dogs.

 All he could do was wait, helpless, with the smell of leather in his
nostrils, and the musky taste of Mandy in his mouth.

 Lying on her bed, Flora told herself it had been worth it, but then
she remembered that no matter how much Mandy might enjoy a threesome,
she still had a jealous streak, and Flora knew she would use this
latest "offense" as an excuse for another long punishment session.
Flora was both addicted to and terrified of these sessions.  Mandy's
idea of punishment was usually a combination of erotic stimulation,
frustration, and uncomfortable, even painful discipline.  If Mandy
misjudged and Flora came, she "tortured" her and tried again, until she
got it right.  It was a strange combination of reward and punishment
and it usually pushed Flora to her limits.

 She won't really hurt me, Flora thought, she's spiteful and
capricious, but her 'torture' is always erotic and friendly, right?
She wouldn't do anything...

 The door flew open with a bang.  "Hello, Flora," Mandy said softly.
Her grim smile gave Flora no comfort.  She stood framed in the doorway,
a vision in gleaming black leather and rubber.  It was her 'punishment
uniform', Flora knew.  Mandy wore a chrome-studded patent leather
brassiere with pointy, cone-shaped cups, a short black rubber miniskirt
and knee-high laced boots of red patent leather with 4 inch spike
heels.  She had a bulky black bundle in one hand.

 "Take off your suit," she ordered, still standing in the doorway.

Flora still had on the thin latex catsuit she had visited Jason in.
She peeled it off her sweating skin and stood shivering slightly in the
chill morning air.  Mandy was apparently unimpressed by the fact that
Flora's hair seemed to be missing, for Flora was bald as a cue-ball!
Clean-shaven and shining, the effect was rather exotic, strangely
beautiful.

 "Put this on," Mandy said next, throwing the bundle at Flora.  Flora
caught the garment and examined it.  Mandy moved to close the window
through which the breeze came.

   This was something new.  Mandy had both their measurements, and was
always sending orders for new costume and equipment creations to the
rubber and leather specialists in Europe and England.  This one
appeared to be a very long, heavily boned panty corselet.  Incredibly,
it was made out of 1/8" thick rubber, and the boning was so stiff, she
could hardly bend it.  She opened the front busk and shuddered when she
looked inside.  The heavy rubber briefs that made up the lower half
were fitted with a formidably large dildo and an almost equally large
butt plug.  In front of the dildo, the briefs were lined with a narrow
panel of 1/2" rubber fingers.  She turned it over.  The waist section
was cut severely small and the molded breast cups were lined with more
little rubber warts.  The garment would cover the entire torso up to
the jawline with a high collar, stiffened with more boning.  The corset
section had the usual laces for tightening it up the back, with more
over the tops of the shoulders and at the neck, too.  And there were
what looked like two small swivel joints riveted to the back at hip
height.

everywhere she looked on it, there was some other little feature
intended to torment the wearer.  The purpose of some things were not
immediately apparent.  There was a heavy rubber tube or hose, glued
along the back from top to bottom.  There was also a threaded metal
stud attached at the crotch under the dildo.  She couldn't fathom what
either of those  was for.  And frankly, the whole thing looked a little
small, even for her slender figure.  She shuddered, and looked up at
Mandy.

						   ( to be continued...  )


From LabRat@i-link.net Sun May 19 09:44:19 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Rubber/Dungeon Story - Latex.05 (5/17)
From: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell)
Date: Sun, 19 May 1996 11:44:19 -0500

I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may
contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality.  If this is
offensive do not read - delete file.  For those of us who enjoy ....
enjoy!  Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up
with what I have now.


                            Adventures in Rubber
                                     by
                                 Dr. Hevea

                                  (part 5)

Mandy walked over.  "Here, you'll need this."  She handed Flora a hospital
-size tube of KY jelly.  Flora lubricated the dildo, the butt-plug and 
herself and moved as if to put it on. 

"No," interrupted Mandy, "do all of the inside and coat yourself, too...
thoroughly."

 Flora obeyed, spreading the slimey goo liberally over the inside of the 
corselet, and then all over herself.  When her torso was completely coated 
in the glistening goo, she stepped into the garment and started pulling it 
on.  With both her hands and the rubber covered with lubricant, it took 
several tries to get the dildo in, while Mandy unhelpfully stood by, watching 
with a most unhelpful and predatory smile on her face.  The rubber dong 
seemed to be pushing into her stomach when she got it fully seated.  It took 
even longer for the butt plug, to allow her rear to relax, and she was 
panting with arousal before it was over.  She gasped as it slid home, and her 
sphincter closed over the constriction.

 Mandy still stood silently watching, neither helping nor criticizing.

 Next Flora slipped her hands through the arm-holes, and her breasts 
slithered into place.  Her nipples hardened further at the first caresses of 
the ribbed rubber cups.  She had to struggle to get the front busk closed, 
even though the back laces were loostened completely.  She sent imploring 
looks at Mandy, which were ignored.  Finally, she got the last fastener hooked 
and she relaxed slightly, her torso slipping around a little inside her steel 
and rubber prison.

 The next thing Mandy handed her was a pair of thigh length boots, made from
very shiny patent leather.  They had six inch spike heels, and they laced 
from toe to hip.  She sat down on the bed and put them on.  Even un-laced, 
the corselet was so unyielding she had a hard time bending over to lace the 
boots.  The only thing that made it possible at all was that the boning 
ended just over the hips, allowing her to bend at the hips slightly, although 
she had to keep her back very straight, or the compression against her belly 
would make it impossible to breathe.

 Eventually, however, the boots were laced to Mandy's satisfaction, which 
meant very tightly, and without wrinkles.
  
 Flora stood up and walked about a bit, unsteadily, but successfully.  She 
had gotten a lot of practice at walking in very high heels, over the last 
several years.  The fact that she was tall, with somewhat long feet for a 
woman helped a great deal.  The dildos macking up and inside her did not help 
her concentration, however.  Nor did the little rubber fingers stimulating her
nipples every time she twisted or turned, help.  And it was getting 
increasingly hard to ignore the bits that fingered her clit and labia and 
their rings.

 "All right, I'll take it from here," said Mandy.  She took Flora by both         
hands and walked her over to an old-style corset 'lacing bar'.  This was a 
simple bar hung from the ceiling that one grasped over your head in order to 
lift the breasts while a corset was laced.  This one had leather cuffs added 
which Mandy buckled onto Flora's wrists.  When she hauled on the rope, it 
pulled Flora's arms over her head, eventually forcing her to stand very 
straight to prevent an uncomfortable tension on her wrists and shoulders.

 Mandy began lacing the corset closed.  K-Y jelly slurped and oozed out as 
the corset's intimate grip tightened.  After completing one pass, she stopped 
and left the room, while Flora squirmed uncomfortably.  In moments Mandy 
returned, with a motor massager strapped onto her hand.  She applied this to 
Flora's crotch a few times, passed it over her breasts.  Flora hummed softly
with delight.  When she started to wiggle in ernest, Mandy stopped and sat 
down.  After a while, she started lacing again, pulling harder now this time, 
until again, she took a break to allow Flora's waist and innards time to adapt 
to their new shape.  Once again, she applied the massager, stopping as soon 
as Flora showed signs of an approaching orgasm.  This time, she broke her 
silence.

"Please, Mandy!  This is too much!  Let me come, just once, please!"

Mandy just smiled.  Again she tightened the laces, the eyelet rows slowly 
closing, even planting her knee in Floras back for leverage.  Flora gasped.
This was the worst corset she had ever worn!  She could feel her waist 
compressing, her lubricated skin sliding under the slippery rubber to conform 
to its new shape.  The rigid, straight back of the corset began to pull her 
into a more erect posture.  This caused her breasts to re-adjust their 
positions within the lubricated cups, which she had to admit,  felt wonderful.

 Mandy paused for breath, sat down and addressed her slave and lover. 
"What do you think of your new clothes, Flora dear?"

 Flora tried to sound enthusiastic, but in truth the dildoes and the fiendish
rubber fingers, combined with the delicious compression of her torso were 
distracting her beyond her ability to fight.  "It's uhh, very nice, mistress. 
I unngh, like it very much."  She shuddered with excitement, unable to obtain
release.

 "Good!  You'll like your new waistline, too, I'm sure."  Mandy again bent to
her task.  She pulled and heaved, until at last the eyelets met.  She tied 
off the laces, rolled them up, and then zipped closed a flap which covered 
the lacing smoothly.  She produced a tape measure and announced, "Nineteen
inches- Beautiful!  That's probably about eighteen under the rubber.
Now don't go anywhere without me," she said, and left the room.  She returned 
moments later with several pieces of chromed metal tubing and an assortment of 
complicated looking hardware.

 Oh shit, thought Flora.  Alex has built another one of his infernal 
contraptions.  I wonder what this one is going to do to me?

 Mandy slid the longest tube, which was about five feet long, into the 
reinforced rubber tube cemented to the back of the body shaper.  She forced 
Flora to stand ramrod straight, in order to get the pipe in.  This was rather 
uncomfortable, for the human back has a natural curve in it, and Flora's 
relaxed posture was not the best.
 The next piece, about 2 feet long, was slid over the first, at the bottom, 
with a slip joint.  At each end of this cross-piece was a ball joint fixed to 
a leather cuff.  These she buckled around Floras ankles.  Next she threaded 
a long thin rod into the threaded stud at Flora's crotch.  This rod reached 
the ankle crosspiece, where it was clamped rigidly to the center.  
Now, any movement up or down by either foot would thrust the dildo in or out.  
Further, any movement forward or back would twist the dildo back and forth.

 The next piece of tubing, shaped like a `T', fitted into the top of the 
vertical tube where it emerged from the rubber.  It was equipped with leather 
straps attached behind each shoulder, with a swivel-joint at each end.   
Mandy fastened the straps around each shoulder, through the arm-pit. 


 She paused again to put the massager on Flora's breasts for a few seconds, 
just to maintain her interest.  Flora moaned, squirming as much as she could,
(which wasn't much)  within the confining garment.  Next, Mandy attached the 
last two pieces of tubing.  Each one connected the swivel joint at an ankle 
with its corresponding swivel joint at the shoulder.  The middle of the tubes 
dropped into the swivel joints on the back of the body shaper at the hip, and 
were held in by pins.

 "My, my, Alex certainly is a craftsman," Mandy said.  "This is possibly his 
most ingenious invention."  Flora's only reply was another soft moan.  The 
movement and shifting while getting the hardware attached to her had caused 
the tight rubber corselet to slide back and forth over her slippery body, 
rubbing and stimulating her until she nearly came.

 "And now for the crowning glory," Mandy crooned, lifting up a rubber hood.
It had several attachments and fittings and she wiggled it as she walked
toward Flora with it.  The thick rubber made a sort of liquid rustling sound
as she shook it.  Flora looked mournfully back.  Fine beads of persperation
had appeared on her forehead.
"Oh, knock off with the sad eyes Flora, I know you too well.  You're probably 
having the time of your life right now.  Well, you may think this feels 
wonderful now, but remember, it's possible to have too much of a good thing."

 "Too much sex?" Flora taunted, panting, "is that possible?"

 "That, my dear, is what we are... that is YOU... are going to find out.  
I'll wager, that you'll be begging for relief before this is over."

 "Yeah," panted Flora, "Sounds like...ah! a safe bet."  She was grinning openly
now.
 
 Mandy held up the hood, turning it 'round, so that Flora could get a good 
look at it.  "You like discipline hoods, don't you, slut?"  The game was afoot
again.

 "Oh YES, mistress," replied Flora, picking up on her cue.

 "Well, you're not going to love THIS one for long," she said softly.  Flora
looked at it with a little apprehension.  It was a heavy rubber helmet molded 
from more of the heavy latex.  It too, looked to be about 1/8-inch thick.
The face had been molded to look exactly like a human female, if human women 
had very shiny ebony-black skin.  There were naturally shaped holes for the 
eyes, and stubby little tubes that fit up into the nostrils.  It had a long 
collar built in.
 There were buckling straps along the sides and back, a breathe-through 
inflatable gag fitted at the mouth, and two dozen 'd' rings down the back for 
lacing.  It was a formidable helmet, and Flora was duly intimidated.

 Without further ado, Mandy pushed it on over Flora's defiant, grinning face, 
pulling it back, and checking to see that the nostril tubes were properly 
seated.  She made sure that the inflatable gag was forced well into her 
slave's mouth. 
 She lifted one rear edge and asked Flora if she could breathe easily.  Flora 
grunted once to indicate that she could.  Fun was fun, but you didn't play 
games with your breathing.  Next Mandy seated an earpiece in each ear, pulled 
the flaps back, and began lacing it up. 
 
 From the start, it was obvious to Flora that this hood would be quite severe.
Before Mandy tightened the laces, there were almost 2 inches of space at the 
rear.  When she was done, there was none.  The lacing went all the down the 
neck, the posture collar sealing nicely to the collar of the body suit, 
forcing Flora's head erect and her gaze, straight ahead.  Flora moaned a 
little more loudly during the lacing process, perhaps testing the gag, perhaps 
losing control but unable to do anything about it.

 The last thing Mandy put on her slave was a wide rubber belt that had a pair
of opera-length, molded rubber gloves glued to it at the palms.  Flora's arms
were released from the lacing bar, powdered, and the gloves pulled on all the 
way up to her shoulders.

 Her hands were forced to conform to the gloves where the fingers and palms 
were cemented to the belt.  Eyelets at the top of the gloves and at the 
shoulders of her corselet were laced together, trapping her arms in the 
tight-fitting gloves.
 When the belt was put around her waist and laced at the back, its purpose 
became obvious.  She now appeared to be standing with her hands on her hips,  
and they would stay that way until she was let out.

 Mandy's last step was to attach a bulb inflator to the fitting at the
mask-helmet's mouth, and give it four slow squeezes.  She removed the bulb 
from the miniature one-way valve and inserted a small red plug into the valve. 
The valve now looked like a red mole or beauty mark next to her mouth.
The breathing hole was practically invisible between the molded red lips of 
the mask.

 When all was said and done, Mandy stepped back to admire her handiwork.
 Before her stood a strange but proud looking mannequin, over six feet tall, 
wearing red leather thigh boots laced tight and smooth, right to the bottom of 
her black rubber corselet.  Her hips and breasts were exaggerated enormously 
by her tiny 19 inch waist.  Her breasts heaved as she breathed, her diaphragm 
being temporarily unavailable for duty.  Her back was literally straight as 
an arrow, and her head was held proudly, if forcibly high. She stood with 
hands planted on hips, as if daring all comers to a sexual duel.

 Her face had the appearance of polished ebony, with prominent, if artificial, 
cheekbones and a bald, gleaming black head.  Various chromed steel tubes peeked 
from behind her.

 Mandy carefully turned her around to look in the full length dressing mirror.

A muffled "Mmmmm, mph!" announced Flora's appreciation for her new look.  She
twisted this way and that to examine the hardware attached behind her, grunting
with pleasure as each twist of her body resulted in something being stimulated.  
She experimentally lifted a foot, and groaned.
 Mandy had to catch her to keep her from falling. 

 Mandy attached a small wire lead to a socket in one ear of the helmet.  The
other end was plugged into a small box which she clipped onto Flora's belt.  
When Mandy flipped a switch, a light glowed on the box.  "If you can hear me, 
Flora, nod your oops, no...grunt once."
 "Grmmp" said Flora.

 "Excellent!  Now we're going to breakfast.  I'm sure Jason is practically
starving, and I know he'll be glad to see you.  Now walk ahead of me, and
don't worry about going too slow, heh-heh."

 They headed for the lift cage, just over twenty feet away.

                                         ( to be continued... )


From LabRat@i-link.net Sun May 19 09:46:17 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Rubber/Dungeon Story - Latex.06 (6/17)
From: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell)
Date: Sun, 19 May 1996 11:46:17 -0500

I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may
contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality.  If this is
offensive do not read - delete file.  For those of us who enjoy ....
enjoy!  Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up
with what I have now.

 
                            Adventures In Rubber 
                                      by
                                  Dr. Hevea 

                                  ( part 6 )

 Flora was, in a way, enjoying herself immensely.  Although the corset 
portion of the rubber body shaper was uncomfortably tight, making her feel a 
bit breathless, the rest of the outfit was another matter.  Her head was 
tightly encased in the helmet and felt, well... TIGHT, as if she had been 
drinking.  The balloon gag filling her mouth distended her cheeks slightly, 
and gave her a kind of simple, oral satisfaction, like she got from performing
fellatio.

 The fiendish attachments of the corselet felt entirely too nice, and she
squirmed a tiny bit, as little as the steel bar at her back allowed.
 The look in the mirror had really excited her, for she hardly recognized 
herself.  Her face had taken on the appearance of an ebony female android, 
and her waist was now so tiny as to almost be unbelievable.  Ever since she 
had met Mandy they had both been reducing their waists through tight-lacing, 
even wearing a tight belt to bed.  But this was certainly the smallest that 
Flora had ever been laced down to.  It had taken almost an hour of intermittent 
tightening to fully close the laces, and she was surprised that her waist and 
ribs were still relatively comfortable in their compressed state.  The years 
of figure training had payed off!  She yearned to see what this tiny wasp's 
waist felt like, but she could hardly feel anything through the rubber gloves
and the waist belt they were fastened to.
 
But when she moved to walk out the door at Mandy's order, oh, what a surprise!
 Because of the pipes attached at her ankles and shoulders, she could not
walk normally.  Not only were her curved steps limited to about 1 foot by the 
ankle bar, but as one foot went forward, the steel tubes pulled the
corresponding shoulder back, and pushed her other shoulder forward.  She was
forced into a sexy, torch-singer's strut, pelvis thrust forward, rolling her
shoulders and swivelling her hips.  This did not help her balance on her now
precarious heels.

 What was worse, with every step, her lubricated torso slid back and forth
within the tight confines of the rubber corselet, rubbing her nipples and
clitoris with the rounded rubber fingers inside.  Occasionally, one of the 
little buggers would catch on her clitoris ring and give it a tweak forcing 
her to stop while paroxysms of tension radiated from her sex.  Then too, the 
action of lifting her feet alternately pulled and released the rod to her 
crotch, pulling and pushing the thick dildo inside her.  After only ten feet 
or so, she stopped, gasping. 

"MMMmmmph!" she said.

 "You're not much of a conversationist, are you?" asked Mandy. "Now, remember, 
you're the one who said there is no such thing as too much sex!  You are going
to walk to the elevator and into the dining room if I have to drag you!  I am 
going to turn your hearing off now, and I don't want to have to turn it back 
on, is that clear?  Now move!"

 Flora moved.  It was slowly driving her insane, but she knew that Mandy 
really meant it this time, so she walked.  With each exaggerated strut, her 
breasts slithered inside their lubricated cups, the little fingers playing 
with her nipples.  At every step, the dildo plunged in and out, in and out, 
the rubber fingers in the pants gripping her clitoris, massaging her pussy 
lips and the lubricant covering her body "squelch"-ing around as she moved.  
She moaned and grunted in ecstacy with every slithering stride, but the rubber 
gag filling her mouth muffled the sounds almost completely.  Soon, she could 
resist no longer.  
 She gave in to the insistent stimulation.  She began to bend her knees up and 
down in time with her enforced strut, deliberately forcing the dildo farther 
in and out of her hot and slippery cunt, and rubbing her clit harder against 
the groping fingers.

 Before she was halfway down the hall, she climaxed in a long, shuddering
orgasm.  What made it all the more frustrating was that she was unable to
move her hands, or arch her back, or any of the usual things she did when
she came.  Mandy had grabbed her shoulders from behind as soon as she 
stopped, to keep her from falling.  Her portable prison of steel and rubber 
held her rigidly erect, with her hands firmly fastened to her hips.  All she
could do was stand there and shake.  Mandy waited a moment, then prodded her 
in the rear.

 Flora began walking again, inching her way down the corridor, each step no 
longer than a foot.  It was even harder to start moving again.  Her orgasm 
had made her nipples and clitoris even more sensitive, and she tried to 
keep her torso from shifting moving as she walked.  Unfortunately, that was 
made impossible by the clever arrangement of the rods connecting her ankles 
and shoulders.  She was getting warmer too, as her recent orgasm and the 
exertion of walking in her tightly controlled bondage had warmed the rubber 
corselet and the K-Y jelly within it.  Once again, at the insistent groping 
of the rubber fingers, and the steady pumping of the dildo, she found herself 
riding the waves of another sexual crest.  Somehow, she managed to make it to 
the door of the elevator before she cried out into her gag with another 
unbridled orgasm.  
 Unable to look down at her body because of the high posture collar, held 
firmly in the tight grip of her rubber corselet and hood, she now felt as if 
she had become a disembodied cunt, while waves of sexual spending and climax 
swept over her.  When she recovered, she glanced back along her path.
 It had taken her ten minutes to mince the twenty feet from the bedroom to the 
servant's lift.  It had seemed like hours and miles.

 Mandy manhandled her into the lift.

 As she rested in the elevator, she nearly cried as she realized that it was 
easily twice the previous distance from the lift to the dining room...


 When they reached the first floor, Flora was again forced to walk, knowing
she now had to cover twice the previous distance.  Her body was sweating 
profusely inside her tight latex corselet, adding to the slippery K-Y jelly.
 There was a delicious ache spreading through her jaw from the rubber balloon 
filling her mouth.  She revelled in the sensation, even though it was
uncomfortable, knowing that soon it would become completely numb.

 Every step resulted in caresses so intense, they bordered on the painful.  
Her nipples and clitoris perversely insisted on staying hard, and as she 
strutted down the hallway, the K-Y jelly in her suit squelched back and forth, 
slithering sensually around her breasts, and through her crotch.
 The butt-plug felt like a telephone pole in her ass, and her pussy muscles
ignored her demands to stop, contracting rhythmically around the dildo.  There 
was no room in her mind now for anything but the physical sensations this 
devilish bondage forced on her.  Once again she felt she had become a 
disembodied cunt, lost in the waves of orgasm, coming almost continuously now, 
unable to stop even if she'd been asked to.  It took all of her will to 
concentrate enough on walking... to simply remain upright.
As the two women reached the dining room, she faltered, weak from her 
exertions, and Mandy had to grab her as she lost her balance, the rigid 
framework of chrome tubing preventing her from catching herself.  She sagged 
gratefully while MAndy supported her weight for a moment.

 "All right," Mandy said, "that's enough.  You can just stand here while I
fetch Jason."  She tied the tubing mounted at Flora's back to one of the 
pillars seperating the dining room from the sitting room, to keep her from 
tipping over. 

 Flora had not even heard Mandy's words, as she relaxed into the stays of her 
corselet, letting the stiff rubber and steel support her.


 Perhaps ten minutes later, Mandy returned, leading Jason in, in a tight
leather body binder with an attached hood.  Flora was suddenly grateful 
he could not see her in her embarassing situation.  She was not used to having 
guests in the house while "dressed up" or doing a scene.  Mandy was saying 
something to Jason, she could see her lips moving, but since her earpiece was 
turned off, she could hear only her own breathing and her pulse singing in her 
ears. 

 Then Mandy uncovered his eyes, and she winced inside her rubber helmet as 
she saw his wild-eyed gaze examine their surroundings, then settle on her.

By now, she had recovered sufficiently to think, he's not taking this very 
well...

 The next thing Mandy did horified her.  Mandy turned on her earpiece,
untied her from the pillar, and commanded her to walk around the giant formal
dining table.  She whimpered, knowing she was already weak from her last two
bouts with the sinister suit, in fact her pussy was still twitching with after
shocks.  But when Mandy insisted, she knew she could either obey or suffer 
even worse "punishments" later.  Besides which, she had grown to ENJOY 
obeying Mandy, even though it seemed part of her rebelled against the orders.  
She found it pleasureable to push her own limits beyond where they had been a 
year ago, or a month ago.

 She began to bend and strut towards the table.  Once again, her breasts 
slithered accross the little fingers in her latex breast cups, again, her 
crotch rubbed against the bumps in the panties, and the dildo was forced in 
and out, in and out.  She shivered, and tried not to think of Jason watching, 
but suddenly she couldn't help remembering their hot encounter of the night 
before.  She tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but instead found
herself thinking of Jason's tongue inside her.  It made her hornier than ever 
and suddenly, it made her cringe from the hot, slimy grip of her rubber 
prison.  For the first time in her life, the rubber felt almost repugnant now,
and her skin crawled with revulsion, even as her clitoris and nipples insisted 
that she enjoy it.  She came again in another uncontrolled orgasm, her mind 
rebelling against her body, as she rounded the end of the table. 

 She made it all the way back to her starting position without falling, to 
her own surprise.  When she returned to her place, she couldn't meet Jason's 
eyes that she knew were devouring her hungrily.  Would he still be attracted 
to her after seeing her like this?

 When Flora had finished her short trip, Mandy brought out an I.V. stand
supporting two bulging enema bags.  Now Flora knew what breakfast would be 
like.
 Mandy strapped a mouth brank across across Jason's open mouth zipper, 
preventing him from ejecting the feeding tube.  

 In Flora's case, she plugged the breathing tube between the lips of the mask,
and watched to see if Flora could still breathe through just the nose tubes. 
When she had indicated that she could, Mandy pushed the rubber hose through 
the mouth hole, until it was near the back of Flora's mouth.  It wasn't so far
back that she gagged, but neither could she block it with her tongue, nor 
expell the tube.
 She'd had this treatment before, and she still wasn't sure whether she liked 
it or not.  Her brain said it was degrading, yet at the same time,  it felt 
like an enema, with the same exciting sensation of enforced fullness.  She 
shuddered, wondering what Jason's reaction would be.

 The liquid was very warm, thick, and slightly sweet, and it flowed so 
quickly that it was all she could do to swallow it fast enough.  Her corsetted 
stomach complained, but there was nothing she could do.  When it was done, she 
could only breathe in short, shallow pants, and she was grateful indeed when 
the feeding tube was removed from her mouth-hole.  She hoped Mandy would let 
her out of this infernal get-up soon.
 
Uh-oh, she thought. I think I have to go the bathroom.


                                                ( to be continued... )


