Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

The Church of Bliss

by Spooky Boogy

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© Copyright 2023 - Spooky Boogy - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; fpov; latex; catsuit; hood; gasmask; paddle; drug; heavy; enclosure; chastity; milking; climax; cons; XX

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As we receive the Sacrament,

Our thoughts are turned to thee,

Mother of Bliss, who lived for us,

Enduring for eternity.

Forgiveness is a gift from Her

We seek with pure intent.

With hands now pledged to do thy work,

We take the Sacrament.

Elise’s paddle cracked down on the drone’s perfectly shined, rubber-coated rear, a bark of pain erupting from inside the featureless hood of the latex creature, its first sound since the beating began almost 10 minutes ago. A physical thrill went through Elise at the utterance, the newly anointed Sister finally understanding the appeal of being on the delivering end of this practice, as she raised her arm for another strike, another hit, another groan of Bliss.

It had been several weeks since Elise had completed her Baptism and been officially inducted as a member of the Church of Bliss, much of that time spent learning the deeper practices carried out in the convent, shadowing the more experienced Sisters in their tasks, all downtime consumed by reflections on the Bliss, kneeling in her chambers inhaling from the bubbling vessel of holy water that was given to her for private use. She often would take hours on end in that state, slowly writhing in her loose bedclothes, whining and moaning in utter Bliss as her mind drifted into itself.

All that had brought her here; her first punishment duty. She had been told when she entered the room that the drone before her, splayed out on a table face down, completely coated in the slick, black rubber that had become so familiar to her, might be simply just that – a drone, bereft of identity, mindless and completely open to being used however anyone pleases – or that it might, in fact, be a fellow Sister, stripped of her robes and reduced to the same state, if only for a little while. Elise hadn’t understood at the time why a Sister would be subjected to this torment, but it mattered not; she was to beat the drone either way, and whatever was beneath the rubber would endure it regardless.

However, as she progressed through the session, laying blow after blow upon the drone’s body, she began to understand, if only faintly. She could feel the Bliss within her, pacing out her impacts, directing her to target different areas, each thudding hit giving her an echo of the sensation within her own body. She began to realise the appeal of the drone’s position, simply a canvas for others to trace out experiences upon, a blank, rubbery thing, doing nothing but enduring and feeling, obeying and submitting.

Anonymity is Bliss.

Elise pulled her arm back, feeling her own pleasure starting to hit a peak, the paddle just beginning to swing into motion, before a hand suddenly took hold of her wrist.

The energy left her in a flood along with the momentum of her swing, discarded and wasted. She whirled on her heels, eyes wide beneath her mask, before she came face to face with something unexpected and froze. A curved, tinted faceplate, completely smooth, without even an opening for filters, crowned an androgynous body swathed in the heaviest rubber she had seen since arriving at the convent, matte and loose, more like a protective suit than anything form-fitting. Elise stood still for a moment, before a rumbling, distorted, and deep voice emanated from the newcomer’s mask.

“Sister Elise. You have been chosen to assist me in receiving the holy Sacrament. You must prepare yourself.” A Sister stepped from the shadows behind the newcomer, reaching out a hand to receive Elise’s paddle. “This Sister will continue your duties. Follow.” With that, the unknown figure turned on their heels, and began to stride away. Helpless to do anything but obey, Elise followed.

Their path through the tunnels beneath the cathedral was convoluted and twisted, but one thing remained clear throughout – they were going down, ever deeper, past even the chambers where Elise’s first Mortification took place. A shiver resonated through her body as she recalled that experience, before the harsh tones of her new companion interrupted her thoughts. “I am the Sacrist. It is my responsibility to direct the rites to receive the Sacrament." As if aware of Elise's questioning eyes drilling into their back, encased as it was in what must have been several millimetres of rubber, the Sacrist turned slightly. "You are observing my protective coverings. They are necessary for handling the Sacrament. You will receive the same. This way."

The pair passed through a small door in the side of a corridor, entering into a long, low room. Even through the filters of her mask, Elise was smothered with the scent of rubber, thick in the air, immediately filling her lungs and making her sway slightly with the potent hit of remembered sensations and experiences. Looking around, she slowly resolved the source of the smell – all along the length of the room, hanging from pegs on the walls, were enough rubber suits for Elise to guess that they could equip the entire convent, every Sister wrapped up in the same heavy enclosure that the Sacrist was sealed into. The rubber figure continued to walk down the length of the room, stopping at what seemed to be an arbitrary point, waiting for the Sister to approach.

Arriving next to the Sacrist, Elise was stunned to see, branded above one of the garments, her own name – this was her equipment. The Sacrist reached up, pulling the heavy suit off its hook to reveal a small alcove behind it, little more than a bench to sit on and a space to store… something. “Remove your boots, Sister. The protective coverings are worn over your existing suit; to do otherwise would provide insufficient protection. You will soon understand why.” Elise, quick to obey, sat down and began the laborious process of unlacing her tall, heeled boots. She had been spending so much time in them lately that it was almost unnatural to place her foot down flat, although it was still hidden behind a layer of rubber which did little to insulate her from the cold floor of the chamber. “Stand, Sister. I will assist you in donning the coverings.”

The Sacrist held up the unzipped suit, the reinforced zipper along the shoulders yawning open like a latex abyss, inviting Elise inside. She tentatively placed one foot down into the slick garment, an excessive helping of lubricant making the process easier than she expected as she found her way to the integrated boot at the bottom of the leg. The rest of the lower half went on just as easily, before the Sacrist helped her heave the heavy suit up onto her shoulders. As it pulled up her body, she was met with the strange sensation of such a thick piece of rubber moving over the skintight encasement beneath – it was as if the inside layer was becoming her skin, transmitting the sensations directly into her body. A bulky hood was pulled over her head, blackness swallowing her up for a moment before a faceplate like the Sacrist’s own swam into view, a series of indentations providing a space for Elise’s mask to clip into place. A moment later, and the suit was completely over her body, leaving the zipper as the only weak point.

“The additional protection is necessary due to the potency of the Sacrament,” said the Sacrist. “Without it, even your existing rubber would be incapable of stopping the fluid from affecting you. Even a single droplet is enough to render anyone exposed into a vessel of pure Bliss, lost to the sensations forevermore.” The zipper of the heavy suit was pulled closed with a definitive click. “I have seen all too many Sisters reduced to nothing more than drones, permanently, unable to recover their minds after the exposure. The few that do endure are blessed with the fate of becoming Oracles; a position that they will never leave.” The blank, reflective faceplate of the Sacrist stared back at Elise, showing her what she had become; just another androgynous figure, dressed for an unknown yet hazardous environment, encased in millimetre upon millimetre of matte black rubber.

“Are you ready?”

Elise nodded.

“Good. Follow.”

Moving in the protective coverings was far harder than the Sacrist had made it appear, both from the practical concern of moving so much extra latex with every step, and from the more private concern of the pulsing Bliss that seemed to be growing within Elise’s chest as she followed her companion to the end of the Hall of Vestments, approaching a heavily reinforced door sealed with a round handle. As the door swung open, that pulsing hum moving through her body immediately surged into a throbbing, thrumming wave of sensation, rippling through her body from head to toe, making her gasp. The sound carried through the mechanical filters of her suits, transmitted as a deep groan of some inhuman creature. The Sacrist, seemingly unphased – or simply used to the reaction – simply stepped through the door into the passageway beyond.

“This is the Oracle Vault. Notice the armoured doors; without them, the entire convent would feel the Bliss as heavily as you do now. Concentration would become… problematic.” True enough, dotted at regular intervals along the long corridor were a series of similar vault doors, reinforced and sealed. Everything in the space was coated in glistening black rubber, faintly illuminated by a series of light strips running along the ceiling. Even the floor beneath Elise’s heavy boots creaked with every step, the characteristic sound of rubber-on-rubber accenting the rustling movements of the two encased figures. “The Oracles themselves, of course, endure far more than even this sensation. Come, Oracle Janus is ready to deliver the Sacrament unto us. We must attend to her.”

The Sacrist led Elise to a door, spinning the handle and slowly pulling it open, giving the Sister her first direct view of an Oracle. At least, that’s what she assumed she was looking at – all she could discern at first was a vaguely humanoid form suspended in the air at the centre of a rubber-lined room, held aloft by a tangled network of straps and pipes. Her eyes couldn’t find a point to begin unravelling the picture, each glint of rubber-coated skin led to a pulsing tube filled with dark fluids running into a metallic orifice that was attached to a black, metallic plate that was mounted to latex skin, and the cycle continued. Slowly, she began to pick apart the scene, spotting the bladder expanding and contracting in time with the breathing of the figure at the heart of the mass, seeing the impressions of limbs encased in layer upon layer of latex, identifying a bizarre helmet which was bolted together over the Oracle’s head, and an intense-looking metal contraption sealed to her groin.

Slowly stepping inside, Elise could do little but stare at the figure, mind still reeling as the Sacrist closed the armoured door and took up position directly in front of the Oracle. They knelt, facing down, and began to pray.

O Bliss, our eternal guide,

We ask thee, in the name of the Mother.

Bless and Sanctify this offering,

To the souls of all those who partake of it.

That they may breathe in remembrance of Her,

And pass into Bliss as She once did.

At the final word, a thunk sounded through the small chamber. Standing, the Sacrist reached towards the Oracle, grabbing hold of the contraption at her crotch, pulling it away with reverent delicacy. A faint creak followed, as what lay beneath what was now revealed to be a brutally thick chastity belt slipped from the padded latex containing it – a shaft, coated in perfectly shined rubber, standing firm and erect from the Oracle’s groin.

“The Sacrament is to be collected from her genitals. I will provide stimulation, you will ensure that not a drop is lost,” the Sacrist explained, placing the belt into a small alcove beside the door. “Her body is so heavily charged with the precursors of holy water that her emissions become the raw material for the substance. Following this, I will take the output to be diluted, refined, and blessed, so it may be added to our supply of holy water. You understand?”

The surprise couldn’t have visibly registered on Elise’s face, sealed away behind layer upon layer of glass and rubber, but the reaction was still obvious – all this time, she had been basking in the Bliss of holy water, breathing the emissions of the Oracles themselves? The Sacrist didn’t wait for her to process the revelation, simply handing her a small, glass cylinder, open at one end, with a small pump-bulb attached to the other. “Place this over her member, engage the vacuum, and hold it steady.”

The Oracle trembled faintly as Elise slipped the device over her shaft, even the slightest touch through the rubber sheathe enough to push her to the edge after months of denial, and the suction as the Sister squeezed the bulb made it even worse. Elise turned to look at the Sacrist, who opened a small panel on the wall to reveal a series of dials and controls. “Are you ready, Sister Elise? Good. I will begin.”

A dial was twisted, and the hum of electricity filled the air. Immediately, the tube in Elise’s hand began to shift and judder, as the shaft held tightly within throbbed and writhed, unknown electrodes and probes nestled somewhere in that body suspended above her sparking to life to call the Oracle to fulfil her purpose. Another slider pushed, and the buzz of a hidden vibrator heralded the first drop of cloudy liquid forming at the tip of the latex-sheathed member, slowly dripping into an ampoule at the end of the tube. A droplet of Bliss. Elise could do nothing but stare at it, watching with wide eyes as the ampoule began to fill, faint moans and whines emanating from the depths of the helmet encasing the Oracle’s head. Elise didn’t notice the first moan that slipped from her own lips, nor the second, as that fire of Bliss simmering in her body began to flare up, expanding into a wildfire rushing through her body, somehow connecting to the Oracle, feeling the deep throb of current sinking into her muscles, feeling the Bliss forming into droplets inside her, feeling the vibrators churning away. More. More. More.

It was on her before she could even prepare herself, an orgasm induced by nothing more than the Bliss the Oracle herself was enduring, as a spurt of Sacrament erupted into the ampoule. Elise felt herself tumbling away from reality, dragged for but a moment into the Oracle’s entire existence, cast into a whirlwind of sensation from which she could see no way out, nothing but ecstasy, pure, unfiltered Bliss, forever.

By the time Elise came back to her senses, the Sacrist had already led her back to the Hall of Vestments, pulling the zipper of her heavy coverings free and clicking the faceplate away from her mask. As the Sister slowly emerged from the protective suit, the Sacrist – still completely clad in her own garments, which Elise now realised must be almost as permanent at the Oracles' imprisonment – held up the small ampoule of Sacrament; a glass vial filled with milky liquid. Even just seeing it was enough to bring a whimper to Elise's lips from the memory of tumultuous pleasure she had just experienced.

"Well done, Sister. You handled the Sacrament better than most. We will see each other again. You may return to your duties."

With that, the Sacrist turned, and walked back into the Oracle Vault, leaving Elise to change into her usual uniform.

That night, as the Sister tumbled into the soft rubber of her bed, she found that sleep came quickly. Her dreams – usually nothing more than hazy flashes of the day, interspersed with moments of clarity, like the shock of holy water entering her lungs – were vivid, clear, and intense. She dreamt of that rubber corridor stretching deep into the earth, the Oracles writhing in their eternal Bliss, producing the substance that brings the Sisters such clarity and ecstasy. She dreamt of the latex encasing her, wrapping her up in its embrace, taking hold of her soul and pulling her further and further towards

where she belonged.

She felt something calling her from far, far beneath the cathedral. Something ancient. Something unknown.

She woke up.


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