The Doll Hotel 7: Slaves and Maids, Above and Below

The Housekeeper took me to the maids' quarters and cuffed me to the wall. The Housekeeper's words were swimming around in my head. It felt like everything I knew and believed in was coming apart. The change of language caused its own mental dislocation as well.

I strained to comprehend how badly I had behaved. I could barely believe how stupid I'd been. I felt a terrible and overpowering guilt. There was still a part of me that argued that it was unfair: that I hadn't been wrong but the rules and requirements forced onto me were absurd. Yet I knew that everyone else coped with those rules, why should I be special?

I was also struggling with the continuing demands for me to look, act and sound as feminine as possible. I wasn't sure if I was comfortable with this. Despite having thought myself secure in my sexuality, I had the unnerving feeling that this repeated behaviour was changing me somehow. What if it was a change that couldn't be undone? Would I end up camp and effeminate?

Most of all, I couldn't see the point of it. The good part was that now, when I imagined my outward appearance, it was incredibly arousing. Not only all the sexy rubber covered women, but also my own body served to charge me with a sexual desire that just grew and grew without release.

I had tried to put all this aside in my head, to keep it from being a part of me, but now I realised it was impossible. I couldn't act the part they had invented for me, I had to become it or I would go insane. The relentless daily routine would not allow any alternative. There was no other way to have a cheerful, accepting and respectful attitude through this.

The idea of time frightened me the most. Everything had already gone on much longer than I imagined it would. I got the impression it would go on for much longer still – perhaps months. After so long immersed in this world would I be able to remember or adapt my mind to anything else? They required such complete capitulation, there would be nothing else left of me – and yet I couldn't even cling to that fear, I had to abandon it and eagerly accept their way. If I resisted the end would be the same but it would simply be a more painful journey.

The guilt was overwhelming because even these questioning thoughts were wrong. There was a bad person inside me, who embodied everything I knew to be unwelcome in a human being. Though I hadn't expected it at first, the goal here was to make me into a better person. Whenever I questioned that, or fought against it, I was giving succour to that evil part of me. It was a part of me I needed to kill. Perhaps to become the good person inside me, I needed to make a physical change too: to become female, at least for a while.

I didn't have much time to think before a maid arrived to collect me. She unhooked my hands from the wall, and locked them behind my back. With a mischievous grin, she clipped a lead onto my high rubber posture collar and with a quick tug, directed me to follow her.

Once more I found myself lost in the hotel. A door took us to a stairwell I'd never seen before, and this time we headed upwards. It seemed like we were returning to the main area of the building where I had stayed originally.

We walked down a particularly long corridor. It was decorated in pastel shades, lit with discreet, diffused uplighting and adorned with the occasional piece of 'non objective' art. In other words it was a normal hotel corridor. It seemed a very different place to the rooms I had recently grown used to.

I almost felt myself missing the gleaming black and white tile, the almost non-existent lighting and the rubber coatings on everything. Looking down at myself or at the hypnotic behind of the pretty maid holding my lead, I felt like we were slightly out of place: slightly unreal. I felt exposed in this unforgiving alien environment.

We stopped before a pair of double doors at the end of the corridor. I could see a camera looking down at us from above it. It was the first camera I had actually noticed. The doors swung open automatically and we stepped inside.

The doors closed smoothly behind us, and I found myself in a beautiful and relaxing room. Most of the wall space was covered in huge tanks full of tropical fish. Most of the light came from the tank lighting, blue and rippling. Bright coloured fish flashed between bright fake corals.

Standing in the middle of the room was Nurse Five, or in this guise simply 'Five'. She was naked apart from a translucent tan coloured bra and suspender set with matching stockings, all decorated with elegant black piping. She also had a long wig of wavy black hair. I almost didn't recognise her.

Alongside Five was another woman who I didn't think I had seen before. She was short, with long blonde hair, huge breasts and pouting red lips that instantly stirred my already throbbing penis. She wore a white rubber corset with half cups to support her gorgeous tits. Suspenders from the corset held up a pair of glistening white rubber stockings. She was wearing porn-star platform shoes with seven-inch heels.

"Hello, hello. Two little maids all in a row, how does your rubber garden grow?" Said the blonde, the rhythm of her speech erratic. She spoke English, which temporarily confused me after hearing only German for so long.

It seemed to me that she was either drugged or deranged - possibly both.

"Lindsay dearest, you have your rhymes all confused," said an amused Five.

Lindsay, whom I presumed to be the blonde, giggled and nearly fell over. She grabbed hold of Five to steady herself.

"Number Twenty Two has never been up here before, so I'd better explain how it all works," said Five. "Lindsay is not an employee of the hotel. However, unlike most people who are not numbers you will meet, she is not a guest here. Instead, she is hotel property: a slave. That is what happens to people who cease to be numbers.

Five must have seen the surprise on my face, despite the rubber hood.

"Don't look so shocked darling. She doesn't have to spend all day chained up in a mine smashing rocks," she giggled.

I tried to make my expression something closer to the maid's ideal: smiling and respectful at all times.

"Lindsay has simply made a more extreme form of the power exchange that everyone makes in their life to a greater or lesser degree. She is happy to be free from the bother of making her own decisions. It's very relaxing - something you might learn to appreciate if your own obedience improves," explained Five.

I felt ashamed again. I was already thinking of arrogant ideas I needed to put aside. Yes, I did need to relax and just let others make decisions for me. Five was right: it was an alluring course of action.

"Normally, even a maid should consider Lindsay beneath her contempt, but tonight it is my order that you treat her as an equal. Oh, and tonight you are to call me Mistress Five, or just Mistress. Do you understand?" Said Mistress Five (as I immediately renamed her in my mind).

"Yes Mistress Five," I chorused with the other maid.

"Good," said Mistress Five.

"Thank you Mistress," we chorused.

"Tip-toe over here and give me a kiss sweet little numbers. I want to taste you both," said Mistress Five.

I was only too happy to comply. I had no problem with pleasant and respectful this time. First I, then the maid Seventeen exchanged a deep hot kiss with the Mistress that set my heart pounding and a hot flush through my body.

"Let's go on a little tour for Twenty Two's benefit. I know she is very curious about what goes on above and below, aren't you sweetie?"

"Yes Mistress," I said.

Mistress Five then opened a door at the far side of the room and indicated for us to follow. Seventeen shot me a strange glance and then pulled me along behind her: she still had a firm grasp of my leash. The mysterious slave Lindsay followed unsteadily behind.

"Behind the glass you will see one of the more profitable businesses of the hotel: slaves. These submissives signed away their freedom to some master or mistress who has sent them to us for special training. Sometimes it is done as a gift for the slave, sometimes as a punishment, or just for convenience.

"In theory we do not train slaves who did not originally consent to their condition, but with complete honesty, it's hard to tell whether they did or not. It is part of our mission to ensure that when we finish, they are not simply happy with their condition: they must love it, desperately and with all their being.

"Lindsay and her companions are the instructors for these slaves: to them she is their all-powerful dominatrix mistress. To us she is just another slave. I hope this gives you an idea of just how far the depths extend beneath you and the heights above," said Mistress Five.

I sensed neither threat nor warning in her tone, apparently this was all so mundane as to be of no great importance to either of us.

At the end of a corridor, as usual lined with doors, we entered a dark room that I can loosely describe as a sort of viewing gallery. From this gallery we could look through into brightly-lit cells that seemed to line the wall.

"Of course the slaves see only a mirror, but they can probably guess we are able to observe them through it. Perhaps if you press yourself against the glass they will glimpse you," said Mistress Five.

In each cell were one or two individuals. On balance slightly more of them were women – or appeared to be women – than men. Some were simply naked, collared and chained, others were bound with ropes or chains into painful positions, or suspended from the ceiling. Some were covered in rubber, glistening and beautiful.

"They are purely sensual creatures who live for sexual service. They exist in a heightened state of sexual desire. Most get their food by sucking penis dispensers. Some are force-fed or connected to intravenous feed lines. All exist in a state of continual sexual desire, frustration and shame. It is extraordinarily rare for them to be allowed to cum," said Mistress Five.

I looked through the glass to see these alien figures. Most were sleeping. A few were fitted with punishment devices I could easily guess the purposes of. Only a few of the latter seemed able to sleep. I found myself curious regarding their existence.

"That is enough of them for now, let's go and enjoy ourselves," said Mistress Five.

We followed her into a kind of dressing room, filled with costumes. Some of the racks actually contained clothes that were not made of rubber. Mistress Five was not interested in those however.

She handed a creation of heavy black rubber, all bondage straps and buckles, to Seventeen.

"Fit this to Twenty Two. We shall have a competition to see who can make me cum the fastest, and I think that as the novice, Twenty Two will be allowed to try first," said Mistress Five.

Seventeen stepped behind me. She pulled my arms behind my back and I felt her sliding the heavy rubber sleeve up over my arms. As she pulled it higher it pulled harder at my sore shoulders. It didn't feel like my arms were ever designed to be pulled that close to each other so far up my back.

My hands were squeezed into a tight glove or mitten that bound my hands together flat against each other. My fingers were rendered completely useless.

She then passed straps over my shoulders, crossed them across my chest and buckled them back to the sleeve behind me. I realised that there was no way the sleeve was coming off. Contrary to common sense I couldn't stop myself struggling to squirm out of the sleeve, but it was fruitless. Seventeen giggled quietly, and then applied gentle but painful pressure that forced me to give a soft defeated moan and cease resisting.

"This is a single-sleeve armbinder, very strict bondage Number Twenty Two. Once it's on, it stays on," Seventeen whispered through my white rubber hood. I think they were the first words she had spoken to me.

The more senior maid then began to tighten the straps around the sleeve, pulling my arms even more tightly together. I winced at the pain as my body was stretched into a new and unfamiliar shape.

After a few moments the pain settled down to a dull ache that I knew would gradually increase as my confinement continued. At some level I enjoyed it. It felt good to press against the rubber and to feel it pressing back.

I moaned again. It felt wonderful to make that sexy sound. I'd never voiced my sexual frustration before and I couldn't resist that brief moment of release. I guessed it was as close as I would get to an orgasm. I wondered just how desperate they could make me become and I was looking forward to it. Anticipating that level of sensual arousal was starting to seem more exciting than the actual climax.

I noticed Lindsay smiling at me. She was enjoying my desperation. She stepped forward and brushed her breasts against mine. The sensation was so soft that it existed mainly in my mind. She rested her hands lightly on my strapped shoulders.

"I think we should find her a nice dress," she said, looking back over her shoulder at Mistress Five.

She turned to face me, her eyes connecting with mine. She was so close I could feel her breath on my lips.

"Mistress was right, you are going to be so hot," she whispered. "I wish you were one of mine to play with. It makes me wet just thinking of you begging... begging..." Her chest heaved with hot arousal. "... Begging so desperately for my..." She brushed against me again before finishing her sentence: "...touch."

I felt a weakness in my crotch, a shiver through my knees. Behind me, Seventeen tugged me backward away from Lindsay, almost playfully. It made me realise that I'd forgotten to breathe and I dizzily recovered with a succession of little gasps: all that the strict corset would allow. The pressure on my waist and neck were impossible to forget for more than a moment.

Lindsay winked over my shoulder at Seventeen and pirouetted unsteadily on her built up shoes to face Mistress Five. I sensed for just a moment that her unsteady movement was itself a perfectly executed performance.

"Yes, I think you're right," said Mistress Five. "She needs a pretty dress – something different for a change."

Lindsay already seemed to have something in mind. Dancing crazily around the racks she settled on something and then came around behind me. She handed whatever it was to Seventeen. I couldn't shuffle round to look at it because Seventeen had a firm grip of my arms, and of course I had little movement in my neck.

"That's a nice choice," said Mistress Five approvingly. "I think she'll enjoy that."

She turned her gaze to Seventeen behind me. "Help her into it. I want to see what it looks like."

Seventeen obliged instantly of course. Before I could so much as sigh or wriggle, she had my maid uniform dress unzipped and pulled down around my feet. I stepped out of the little black dress with its froth of petticoats. My punishment corset was now clearly displayed with its crotch strap pulled tight between my legs.

Lindsay's eyes widened at the sight of it. "Oh, you have got her locked up tight. No fun for that little girlie unless you've got the key," she said, glancing at Mistress Five.

"Oh yes, yes. I have her key of course. I don't think she's ready to be unlocked though. Not yet," said the Mistress.

"Awww," said Lindsay, making big puppy-dog eyes.

She ran her fingers over the shoulder straps of my corset that held my shoulders back and chest out so unyieldingly.

"And these... I love how they make her stand so prim and proper, so brazen strumpet, so punished-rubber-maid... Oh yeah... The armbinder has an effect, but it can't control her back and neck like that," grinned Lindsay. "My pets don't need artificial help to stand that way, but it's fun though isn't it?"

"Come on Lin, you're giving too much attention to Twenty Two," laughed Mistress Five. "I think I deserve a little, don't you?"

Lindsay danced over to Mistress Five and sank to her knees in front of her. She opened her mouth wide and gave her hairless, naked pussy a long hard lick. Her tongue was the longest I'd ever seen. My eyes must have popped out of my head. Mistress Five gave a long sigh before she noticed me.

"Oh, Twenty Two looks jealous," said Mistress Five. "I wonder what she wants the most? My pussy or your tongue?"

At that point I was distracted by Maid Seventeen nudging me to step into the new dress that she had unzipped ready for me.

I stepped into the dress and she pulled it up around me, tugging it up over my hips and then up to my breasts, framed as they were by the corset straps and criss-crossed by the armbinder. As Seventeen pulled the zip closed in the back it closed up so that it hung from them, closing tight beneath around my artificially reduced waist.

I glanced down to see that instead of the short petticoats of the maid's uniform, this was a long narrow dress. I felt Seventeen start to close a zip behind me, and my thighs were pulled tight together, then my knees.

I got the impression the zip could close all the way down to my ankles. If it had done I would have toppled over for sure. Seventeen knew just where to stop so that I could still stand by myself. I could probably even shuffle along, albeit very slowly.

With my arms pulled tight back behind me, shoulders back, chest out and my legs bound tightly together, I felt deliciously constrained. Every breath and every movement tugged against tight rubber. It gave a little but its tireless pull soon defeated me. There was absolutely no escape. Just knowing that made me dizzy with arousal.

I was so excited, I felt like I was floating. I didn't really pay attention as Lindsay and Mistress Five removed Seventeen from her maid's uniform, strapped a ring-gag into her mouth, placed her in an all enclosing rubber cocoon and laid her down on a table. Her face, her breasts and her crotch were the only parts exposed.

As they tightened straps around the cocoon I couldn't really see the point of it. When it began to inflate I realised its purpose. The construction was double layered. Air entering into the bag caused it to swell like a lifejacket. Bound by the straps it could only grow in one direction: by pressing tight against the trapped Number Seventeen.

I couldn't imagine how powerful the pressure on her was, but it could potentially be much more than the vacuum effect that had been used on me before. Even gently inflated, the cocoon could apply a pressure four or five times the amount that I'd experienced. It was a truly frightening idea. Just the effort involved in breathing would be exhausting.

I was glad that I wasn't in Seventeen's place, and yet my mind was working overtime trying to imagine what it was like. I hadn't been told to move so I didn't dare shuffle closer, and I couldn't see the expression on her face from where I was.

Mistress Five then operated a release on the table which allowed it to sink down so that it was level with her knees. She then straddled the table over Seventeen's face and wriggled her pussy down over her mouth.

At the same time, Lindsay moved up close to me and without offering me any choice in the matter, helped me to sink to my knees. With simple efficiency she rolled me onto my side and then onto my back, legs now stretched out straight.

With a quick manipulation of the zip she closed up the bottom of the skirt, pulling my legs close together at the ankles. There was no way I could possibly stand without assistance. With the armbinder tight around my arms there was no way I could crawl either. If I wanted to go anywhere my only option would be to wriggle: not very useful.

Lindsay had no intention of letting me go far. She quickly climbed onto my chest and pinned me before sliding forward so that her sex was now right in front of my face. I could smell its musky scent mixed with the rubber.

"Hello there pretty maid," she said suggestively. "How do you like the view?"

"It is delightful thank you," I answered.

"If you can make me cum in less than fifteen minutes I will return the favour," she said.

"Thank you," I said again.

I didn't want to become too familiar with Lindsay. On one hand she was clearly in the dominant position and could demand whatever she chose of me. On the other she was technically my inferior. Also, I wasn't sure if I was allowed to speak freely or use English, as Mistress Five had never given me permission to do so. I was confused as to the proper way to behave. I decided to stick by the cardinal rules: happy, polite, and respectful.

"But if you don't manage it in time, Seventeen gets to cum instead of you," she teased.

"Thank you," I answered.

"What a good little maid you are," she laughed.

She slid forward, pushing her sex over my mouth, and took a little of her weight herself, relieving some pain in my arms and shoulders. The posture collar wouldn't allow me much freedom to move my head, so she had complete control over when I had to lick and when I could breathe.

I had a good view of her corset, with her breasts peeking over the edge of it, and not much else. Of course I was desperate to earn the promised orgasm. I had no idea of the passing of time. Time had become something that other people measured and controlled since I had entered the realm of hotel employment.

I began by teasing her outer lips. When I sensed that she was hungry for more I made her wait just a little longer. In return she denied me the chance to breathe until I had tasted her inner lips. They were large, puffy and swollen. They stuck out from her oversized outer lips by nearly two inches once my tongue had drawn them out of their hiding place. Her outer lips were also distinctive: almost as large as the rubber caricatures that Mistress Five had worn in the dark playroom.

Her juices ran freely, and even though I tried to lick them all up, they smeared all over my face and into my nose. Her scent was different to Mistress Five. It was stronger, muskier, and more arousing in itself. There was something primal and forbidden about it.

I soon moved my attention from her pussy lips to her clitoris. On Mistress Five this had been a tiny bud, but Lindsay was very different: her clitoris was a huge bulging lump, pierced through with a small metal ring. I used the ring to my advantage as much as possible.

I could feel her rubbing at my nipples to encourage me. Tightly contained in the rubber dress there was nothing I could do to stimulate myself. The way she teased my nipples just made me wish that I had the real thing so I could feel more.

I wished I had nice big tits like Lindsay. I imagined my mouth sucking and nipping at her big brown nipples. They too were pierced, like her clitoris. I could see the rings now that she had pulled her breasts free of the corset to fondle herself.

Sometimes as I gasped for breath I could see her finger looped through one of the rings, twisting and wrenching at the ring. It looked like she was hurting herself, but she didn't seem to be in pain.

It was reaching the point where she was reluctant to let me breathe. I had to be getting closer. She was almost there. I sucked each extended pussy lip into my mouth and suckled and nibbled on it. The taste of her was really strong – almost more than I could bear.

Sometime she would move into just the right position and I could suck her oversized clitoris into my mouth, complete with the ring. As she pulled away I would hang onto the ring with my teeth, stretching and pulling at her clit in the way she stretched and pulled at her ringed nipples.

I was starting to see spots before my eyes and I was afraid that I would black out before she finally came. Then finally she went completely berserk. She wouldn't let me breathe at all as she mashed her sex violently into my face. I felt like I was drowning in her juices. She actually seemed to spray some sort of watery fluid all over me.

I'd never experienced anything like it before. It was only by luck that I was able to hold my breath long enough to remain conscious through it all, so I can't really say that I remember it properly, or that I'm sure about her flood of fluid on orgasm.

Finally, exhausted, she slumped over onto her side and I could breathe again. It had been an intense experience, but I hadn't been able to get much stimulation and was still floating along at a moderate state of sexual arousal. I was nowhere near an orgasm of my own despite my poor throbbing penis.

My face felt completely caked with her juices, which were gluing my eyes shut, overpowering every smell and drowning my sense of taste. In some undefinable way I felt violated and conquered by her. Was this ultimately the role of a maid: service without personal pleasure? I didn't feel ready to enjoy the sacrifice yet.

Lindsay rolled over and propped her head up on her hand, resting on her elbow. She looked into my face from about two inches away, grinning like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

"Lucky little maid, you took thirteen minutes, so you've won the prize. Poor Seventeen," she said with mock seriousness.

Lindsay unzipped a little of my skirt so that I could shuffle on tiptoe. When she helped me to my feet I could now see that Mistress Five was still busy riding Seventeen's face and was paying no attention to us at all. Lindsay took hold of my leash and gently pulled me along behind her.

Very slowly I followed her though a door into a room I could best describe as a dungeon. The walls were covered in hard grey stone. There were bolts, fixtures and chains hanging everywhere. A wooden St. Andrew's cross was fixed to one wall. A metal chair with all kinds of adjustable fittings had pride of place on another wall. Shelves were stacked with sex toys of every imaginable kind, and many of them were whips or paddles.

I felt a cold feeling in my stomach. To me this looked more like a place of torture than pleasure. I immediately feared some sort of cruel punishment.

Lindsay hooked the ring on the end of my armbinder sleeve to a chain that dangled from the ceiling and by operating a dangling switch box she was able to make an electric winch wind up the slack in the chain. She kept on winding until my arms were pulled up behind me, and I was bent over painfully, unable to see anything but the floor.

I felt very unsteady. I had no way to control my balance. I had almost no movement in my legs and I had a lot of weight on my arms. I expected the next thing to happen would be my collapse, complete with two dislocated shoulders.

Thankfully, Lindsay unzipped my skirt all the way up. I spread my legs, increasing the pain in my shoulders but releasing the terrible burning pain that had been stabbing at the back of my legs. My balance was now better, but I was a long way from feeling secure.

Almost as if she had read my mind, Lindsay crouched down to talk to me, her hand reaching out to stroke my head.

"Poor little maid. Does it hurt? Are you afraid to fall? Don't worry baby. I won't let you dislocate your little shoulders," she said in a parody of the voice that aged aunts use to address a baby before pinching its cheeks. I didn't detect much kindness in her voice.

She took a leather harness and began to strap it over my white rubber hood encased head. A thick rubber 'bit' was pushed between my teeth, while straps pulled tight behind my head, underneath my chin and at the top. She then hooked a ring on the harness to another chain and wound it tight.

My head was pulled up as far as the collar would allow. Now I was more worried about being choked, but the pressure on my arms was somewhat relieved and I knew that even if I slipped, I could probably regain my footing.

I still felt very uncomfortable, and very vulnerable. As if to reassure me that I was right to do so, Lindsay moved into my field of view. She was now wearing a large black rubber strap on dildo or penis. The Housekeeper was right to call me slow-witted even for a maid, because it took me so long to realise what she intended to do.

When I felt her hands moving over my bottom, feeling for a way to remove my panties something in my mind finally clicked into place. I started trying to shake my head to indicate no. It was futile: the strict posture collar simply wouldn't allow it.

I tried to speak, but I had a mouthful of a thick rubber bit, and my words were nothing but quiet little mumbles, which she chose to ignore. I simply did not dare to make more noise, even though I was terrified.

It wasn't long before she had my ruffled outer panties removed. I was now thankful for the crotch straps on my corset. There was no way she could get through them.

I was wrong. Somehow, she had the key. I hadn't seen her receive it from Mistress Five, but then, I had no idea where Mistress Five could have secreted it about her person when she was wearing nothing but transparent rubber underwear. Perhaps she had left the key in here in advance?

She showed me her next toy: a long metal bar with chains at each end. The chains were about six inches long, and on the end of each one was a leather ankle cuff. She strapped a cuff onto each ankle.

My legs were now forced to be at least two feet apart, but I could move them up to three feet apart. The lengths of chain gave me enough room for movement that I could adjust my balance, but I could no longer squeeze my legs together or kick.

The crotch zip was opened in a trice, and the next sensation was the feeling of my butt-plug being deflated. She pulled it out of me with a sickening wet sucking sound. Before I could make another complaint I could feel her inside me. I hadn't even felt her push into me: my bottom had been wide open after the removal of the plug.

I could feel her as she pumped back and forth. I could feel all the veins and ridges of the realistically moulded penis. As she fucked me, she reached out and grabbed my nipples, pulling and nipping them fiercely.

It might sound like I wasn't enjoying it, but the problem was that I did enjoy it. I was so desperate for an orgasm that I was pushing right back into her. I squealed with pleasure as she smacked my breasts.

I'd been going crazy with frustration, and the sensation of her pushing that rubber dildo into my prostate was heaven. It would have been better if only I could get a proper erection. My penis was still trapped inside my underpanties and they were secured firmly in place.

I felt sure that this time, the sensation in my bottom and my nipples would be enough to take me over the edge. However, Lindsay seemed cruel and was in no rush to let me have my release. Instead she would pause in her fucking to slap my bottom or the inside of my thigh with her hand.

She seemed to get as much pleasure from slapping me as from ramming the stiff rubber penis into me - even though I was sure that another end of it pressed inside her.

Just as I thought I might be close to an orgasm, she stopped pumping into me and paused to pinch my nipples. Tiny electric pulses shocked my real skin hidden beneath the layers of rubber and the false gel-filled breasts.

"How do you like to receive a good fucking? Do you like it?" She breathed heavily in my ear.

I tried to nod my head but it wasn't really possible as it was already stretched up as far as it would go.

"Ohhh... The silent type mm? That's alright. I think you do like it, but I need to be sure. I want to hear you beg for me to finish you off. I want to hear you beg me to fuck you, hard, in the ass, with a big black rubber cock. Come on now baby. Mmmm," she purred.

I made a mumbled noise around the thick rubber bit. I didn't think I would be able to make intelligible sounds.

"Tsk, tsk. I think you can do better than that. I've had a lot of practice learning to understand gag-talk. Come on, you do want to come don't you?" She said, amused.

I tried again, doing my best to speak around the bit. I knew I could do it if I tried. I'd just been afraid to speak. After being silent for so long I didn't dare to be heard. Now I had no choice.

"Pleathe, fuck me, macche, me chuckum," I said through the harness.

"Oh yes baby, that's better. But that's not enough. I want to hear it all. Come on now: beg for it, hard, in the ass with a big black rubber cock," she said, almost panting into my ear.

She really got off on this. I could tell.

So did I.

I didn't care what she wanted me to do. I was hot, dizzy, in pain, and yet I couldn't feel any of it. I felt like I was floating, adrift in churning hot waters. I couldn't think of anything else but that pent up feeling of frustrated desire.

"Pleathe, um egging you... Pleathe, fuck me, hard, in the ath, wiff a iig black cochh... Pleathe, macche me chuumm," I lisped.

It was a shock to me that I could do it so easily. I wanted that orgasm so badly I didn't care what I said. It wasn't like there was any point in me pretending otherwise. Totally helpless in rubber bondage I could hardly be coy about what I wanted. I didn't really stop to think about it at the time.

"That's a good little maid. Yes. Good girl. Aren't you humiliated? You can't control your lust and you're begging for cock in the ass like the slut you really are. Do you like that? Does it turn you on? Does it make you hot, hot, hot?" She ranted.

She was right. It was exciting for some reason I couldn't understand. Even though I hadn't had my orgasm yet there was an incredible feeling of release in my mind if not in my body. She seemed to get off on it too. She sounded like she was half way through an orgasm of her own and all she was doing was talk.

"Alright baby. You asked for it," she said, starting to pump into me again.

With each thrust she yanked hard on my nipples. It ought to hurt like hell but I could barely feel it. My mind was somewhere else and my body was vibrating, thrumming like a string stretched tight and plucked. I was so overheated in all the rubber that I felt like my body was full of fire. There were spots before my eyes again.

Then with one more solid thrust I felt myself cum. It was an orgasm, but not the neat, tidy, well-defined thing I was used to. I felt the sense of relief but the pure moment of white nothingness didn't swallow me. My panty-imprisoned penis was pumping something, but I didn't feel satisfied.

She kept on pumping into me. The feeling started to grow. Rather than the sudden transition into nothingness it was creeping up on me slowly, but I was getting there. Slowly, the sensation took me, and for a while I was absent.

I felt myself returning slowly to reality. Aches, pains, laboured breathing, the overpowering scents of rubber and female sex juices started to impinge on my consciousness.

Now that the perfect moment was over, I realised that I was really hurting. My arms and neck were in agony. I was overheated and panting for breath. My rubber clothes were running with water inside. The few exposed parts of my face were covered with an itchy crust of mucus, which was constantly being rehydrated by rivulets of sweat.

Lindsay wandered around in front of me and waved the slimy black rubber strap-on in my face.

"I would make you suck it clean, but I can't be bothered to remove your bridle," she laughed. "I think you'd make a great pony, but I don't think that's where you're headed," she grinned.

She wiped the head of the cock with her hand and pushed her fingers into my mouth around the bit of the bridle.

"Suck them clean baby," she ordered.

They didn't taste very pleasant, but they really didn't taste of anything much that I couldn't already taste: mainly rubber and Lindsay's own juices.

"Good girl. Good girl. There's a good little slut," she said in a motherly voice while stroking the side of my head.

"I think I'll just leave you here for now. I want to see how the others are getting on. Oh wait... I forgot to put your plug back," she said, heading round behind me.

But instead of reinserting my inflatable butt-plug, I felt her press something smooth, cool and hard into me. At first it stretched me wide, hurting me, and then it popped into place. I guessed it was the sort of plug that got wider and then narrower again. I could feel something dangling from it, brushing against my legs.

It felt that if I bore down hard I might be able to squeeze the plug back out again, but before I dared try such a thing, Lindsay pulled the crotch straps of my corset through my legs, cinched them tight and locked them. The plug was fastened securely inside me and no amount of pushing could possibly dislodge it.

Lindsay had been gone for what seemed like a few minutes when the vibrating plug kicked into life. I squirmed and bore down on it. I was already starting to feel horny and frustrated again but the plug made it a hundred times worse. It immediately kicked me up a level of arousal, but wouldn't let me go any further.

Then, to make things worse, it turned off. I groaned with frustration. I'd got my long dreamed of orgasm, but it was already as if I'd never had it. Already my mind could focus on nothing else but relief from my sexual desire.

Time passed with tortuous slowness. My position would have been exhausting without the addition of heavy rubber enclosure. My muscles were giving up and I was afraid I would collapse and dislocate or break my arms. Lindsay did not return. The vibrating plug turned on again. I added whimpers of frustration amongst my moans of pain.

The plug activated three more times before Lindsay finally reappeared. I made an awful pained moaning sound to indicate my impending collapse. She didn't seem impressed.

"Oh, is the little maid hurting? Are your legs all wobbly and tired? Poor baby," she said in a sarcastic mothering tone that made me extremely nervous that something nasty and sadistic was coming.

I was quite surprised when she operated the electric winches that lowered my arms and head. She unhooked me and supported me while she helped me hobble over to the metal chair contraption.

She hooked my arms over a bar in the open back of the chair, and clipped the d-ring on the end of my armbinder to something so that I was secured in place by that one simple mechanism. It was still humbling to be so easily controlled.

My legs were still cuffed to the metal bar between my legs (or as I later learned to call it, the spreader bar). She snapped another clip onto a d-ring in the middle of the bar and my legs were thoroughly secured as well.

Without explanation she left me alone again. At least I was in much less pain. Then the butt-plug burst into life again. If my corset or collar would have allowed it, I would have slumped in defeat. As it was, I wept. They weren't tears of misery, though I was still quite uncomfortable; they were tears of frustration.

She must have adjusted the plug when she moved me over to the chair, because the delays between activity were now much longer, and possibly even random.

I felt like I needed to cum ten times worse than before. I couldn't get an erection but my penis continually ached from trying. If I could have somehow managed to masturbate at that point I would have gladly suffered the punishments for it.

I seemed to wait in the chair for a long time.

14.07.10