Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Entering Rubber Society 2: The Atelier Sutcliffe

by LatexLadyLL

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© Copyright 2014 - LatexLadyLL - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; F/ff+; D/s; latex; clothing; catsuits; corsets; hoods; bond; susp; armbinder; bdsm; electro; surgery; display; objectification; toys; climax; cons; X

story continued from part one Part 2: The Atelier Sutcliffe

Katherine stepped out of the cab before the front entryway of Atelier Sutcliffe. The storefront was not too wide, about normal for the city. The door was translucent red glass and the shop window to the right was one large sheet of clear plate glass. The entire entrance was most modern looking despite being in a block of Georgian storefronts selling everything from men's shoes at one end to office supplies at the other.

Above the door a bright red neon sign spelled out “Atelier Sutcliffe” in a flowing script. The window display showed two mannequins one in a beautiful, sleek and very tight gold rubber gown, the other in a cute flared latex minidress in black with white polka dots. It was paired with matching thigh high boots, gloves and full head enclosing gas mask, but in white with black polka dots. As Katherine watched, the small rebreather bags attached to the front of the gas mask inflated and deflated. They too were in bright white rubber, their polka dots expanding and contracting like dots on a balloon.

Also in the window were examples of a strict purple latex corset with an elaborate neck corset and hooded head dress. The corset had sleeves as well. There were also two pairs of remarkable ballet boots with immense platforms and two other hoods on heads stood in the floor of the window off to the side. The hoods were moving around, sometimes smoothly, sometimes jerkily, almost as if two living persons were secured beneath the floor serving as head stands rather than the usual wig stands.

These hoods were metallic red and metallic blue, not terribly elaborate, but with stunningly crafted seaming to convey the impression that they were molded or glued to the heads beneath them. No eye holes were present, and each hood had a protruding dildo gag where the mouth should be.

The Cab Ride

Katherine looked back to the street, watching the cab depart. The trip from her office had been uneventful, the driver competent and courteous. She had barely noticed the fact that his rubberisation secured him to the seat in such a way that he was literally a part of the cab itself, his body half embedded into the latex covered front seat which was a specially designed bucket intended for rubber slave drivers; that is, rubber slaves whose owners had decided they would be lifetime drivers of the vehicles.

His voice had been somewhat slurred as he repeated the destination to her, but she put that down to the fact that it emanated from behind multiple hoods and a gas mask. The fact that he was driving a Black Rubber cab indicated he had passed the rather severe test of familiarity with both the city’s convoluted road structure and its ever changing collection of interesting clubs, bars, eateries, shops, dungeons, and theatres catering to the rubberised denizens of this teeming metropolis. All in all, a normal cab driver in the city, probably a slave to a nice middle aged Dom(me), happily spending his retirement as a part of the car itself.

Katherine had seen many rubberists along the streets during the ride, but had, perhaps, noticed them more today than in the past. It struck her that the city streets were at least half filled with people in all sorts of rubber dress and gear, blending comfortably with the other half in ordinary clothes. Neither group seemed to take undo notice of the other. Men in tight rubber jeans and jackets or complex full enclosure catsuits with gas masks moved through crowds of heavily veiled muslimahs, pinstripe suited bankers, executive women in tailored designer suits, and office girls in sleek sheath dresses. Women in elaborate rubber dresses, suits, or bondage gear entered and left the shops along the street, some sealed in tight rubber gloves, hoods, and gags, ignoring blue jean and t-shirted road workers.

A group of teenage school girls paraded down the street, all in the tight latex uniform of their alma mater, obviously come to town for a field trip to the museum or being taken to a lady’s salon to test their newly learned deportment skills. Their fitted, narrow waisted blazers and their tight, ankle length hobble skirts shimmered in emerald green latex, their blouses and hats were sparkling white rubber, and their ballet boots, gloves, and full face hoods were in traditional black latex. Katherine presumed the uniforms covered matching green latex corsets since many school uniforms specified corsets and the extreme nipped in waists of the girls indicated undergarment help for mother nature. She thought they might have been a gaggle instead of a group except for the fact that the tight black rubber hoods had no mouth holes, silencing them totally.

They were flanked, fore and aft by two rubber nuns whose heads were at least a foot above those of their charges. Ballet boots with platforms, Katherine realized, hiding beneath the floor length black and white rubber habits with black full face hoods beneath white rubber coifs and guimps covered by long black latex veils. These were nuns from the order known as the Sisters of Perpetual Latex who dedicated their lives to rubberized poverty and chastity in latex and to the teaching of young girls in the ways of Rubber Society. Such rubber nuns, often given to the convent in adolescence, ran some of the finest and strictest rubber schools in the country. None of the girls appeared in the least tempted to step out of the rigid line the two nuns demanded.

They passed another group of teens, also girls, in causal jeans and skirts, laughing and talking as they crossed the street. The sloppy casualness of this second group, truly a gaggle, was not lost on Katherine as she watched them approach and pass the rigid line of smoothly rubbered debutants. Neither group acknowledged the other, the laughing girls totally self absorbed and the latexed ones totally focused on silent submission to their domineering guides.

As the cab made its way slowly through traffic, Katherine found they were keeping pace with the group from the rubber school. She watched as another group of girls, from a Muslim school, approached them head on. This group, of about the same number and also flanked fore and aft by two women, were all in grey burkas. The flowing garments with their voluminous pleated backs, tight embroidered caps and two mesh filled paisley shaped eyeholes, literally rippled down the street as each girl walked in tight single file formation, following the muslimah in front of them who was fully veiled in matching grey abaya, gloves, hijab, and three layer niqab as was her sister following behind.

The two groups passed each other silently, the adults slightly nodding to each other with respect and to acknowledge that each group was properly clothed and controlled for public display. Katherine smiled at the thought that two such different philosophies should find common ground in a perceived need for strict, conservative, controlled childrearing and education. The girls in each group never turned their heads, flowing grey silk burkas in stark optical contrast to tight green rubber hobble skirts.

Moments later, the Black Rubber cab, with its permanently installed latex gimp driver, arrived at the Atelier Sutcliffe. Katherine shook her head slightly to clear it. “So much rubber now. I never realized how ubiquitous it’s become. And now it’s my turn to join the rubberists. Am I ready for this?”

On the street, Katherine shook her head again before stepping up to the bright red door of Atelier Sutcliffe. The door was locked, but an intercom on the door suggested she could notify the proprietors that she was requesting entrance. She pressed the signal button and a voice almost immediately came out of the box.

“Atelier Sutcliffe. How may I help you?” It was the same voice that had answered the phone earlier.

“Katherine Duane, to, uh, see Sylvia Sutcliffe.” It seemed odd to say that she was here to free Sylvia Sutcliffe.

“Of course, Miss. Please come in.” The intercom went silent and a moment later the door latch clicked and the door swung inward slowly.

Stepping inside the city’s most exclusive latex emporium and designer atelier, her hands trembling slightly, Katherine looked around for the two rubber bound latex enslaved occupants, mother, Sylvia and daughter, Sophie.

The Release

Katherine looked around the brightly lit room she found herself in. Here, at the entrance and all along the walls to the far back of the space were mannequins dressed, encased, bound, and, in some cases, positively bonzaied in the most elaborate and spectacular latex fashions and constructions she had ever seen. Outfits ranged from beautiful gowns of shimmering metallic latex to smart day dresses in pastel shades of rubber, to severe, conservative business suits in tight black latex.

At about the middle of the space, couture gave way to fetish with catsuits, bondage sacks, and gimp suits. The back of this collection sported pony girl outfits complete with fully integrated horse heads, hoof gloves and pony boots.

The space made a right angle turn just before a large, empty black glass table set parallel to the back wall; obviously, the sales desk. Walking slowly down to the desk, Katherine could see no one either on the floor to provide service or in bondage to provide pleasure. But turning the corner by the sales desk, she saw the shop space was only half of the atelier. Around that corner it opened into a large work floor with several worktables, all covered in the makings of new latex outfits.

The work floor was empty, the walls lined with shelves holding finished hoods, racks holding finished garments, and a set of diagonally oriented cubes, filled with plastic tubes. Next to this arrangement was another hanging rack which seemed to be filled with pattern pieces. The aroma of solvent and glue was strong in the work room although Katherine had not noticed it in the retail side. The ceiling was at least twice the height of that in the store area.

Hanging in the center of the workspace, suspended by multiple cables, was a bundle of rubberized femininity, dangling like a living chandelier. Presumably, this was Sylvia and Sophie.

The figure in white latex was larger than the one in black and Katherine presumed this was Sylvia while the one in black was Sophie. They both appeared to be in total enclosure suits, severe ballet ankle boots and with a bulky black hood on Sophie.

Sylvia was in total enclosure white rubber with a thick, tightly fitted rubber hood that had no eye holes and no mouth hole. Her arms were tightly bound behind her by a strict looking white rubber armbinder, causing her ample breasts, almost certainly augmented by her suit, to protrude directly into Sophie’s chest.

Sophie, on the other hand, had smaller breasts, flattened and pushed up severely by a tight and elaborate rubber corset. Her arms were apparently also bound behind her back, but Katherine could not see if it was by an armbinder or just rubber cuffs.

Katherine watched for a few moments and determined that, yes, they were breathing in tandem. As the white bust expanded, the black corset contracted and vice versa. With each breath Sophie, in her gleaming black latex suit and elaborately textured corset, jerked a little, as if in pain.

Katherine walked all around the two suspended figures, looking for a way to free them. She stared for a long moment at Sophie’s back. Something was wrong, the taut latex pulled smooth against the girl’s back. Katherine could not quite figure out where Sophie’s arms were. She concluded they must be under the corset, at the girl’s side.

She followed one cable with her eyes, up and over a round steel support, then down to a small black box mounted on the wall. This was the hoist, Katherine was sure, but she saw no control box. She looked up at the two women, dangling in rubberized embrace. She thought about the conversations with Sophie, on the phone and at the door. A suspicion came to her.

“Sophie, I cannot see a way to lower you or let you down.”, Katherine said. At the word “down”, the hoist whirred and the bound rubber beauties began slowly descending to the floor. Katherine let out a little sigh of relief. “Got it!”, she chuckled. The hoist was voice activated as Sophie’s phone and intercom and door lock were. But the mechanism could never have heard Sophie through her bulky rubber hood and across the workroom as it was. A visitor had to come in and mention the magic word. Katherine had decided to try ‘Lower’ and ‘Down’ in a sentence. The second had worked.

Katherine walked back to the spot where the two lay on the floor, gently squirming. She undid the rubber straps that held them together and laid them back on the cool polished concrete of the work room. She saw that they were connected in one other way; a double dildo of very long and large proportions was inserted into the vaginal orifice of each woman. As Katherine watched, the two squeezed and squirmed a bit more on the dildo, then slowly ejected it from their loins. As it fell to the floor with a rubbery plop, Katherine noticed that each woman had a latex sheath inside her vagina, lining it completely.

Katherine went to Sylvia in her white rubber encasement and helped her stand. In the white rubber ballet boots the woman was an imposing statue of rigid, severe rubber bondage, over two meters tall. Leaving her for a moment, Katherine went and stood Sophie up as well.

She was still mystified by Sophie’s lack of obvious arms since she could see no bulges in the deep black of her strict corset. It nipped her waist to what looked to be no more than 30 cm. Sophie nodded her head and Katherine decided that meant she was Ok and Katherine should return to her mother.

Katherine led Sylvia to a chair from one of the work tables and sat her on it. With a bit of difficulty, she freed Sylvia’s arms from the armbinder, and unfastened the thick white rubber helmet. Removing it, however, she discovered there was another hood under it, also white, with a rubber mouthpiece built in. It looked like a realistic set of teeth and tongue, but was a totally effective gag. Katherine took a breath and returned to Sophie.

Finding another chair, she sat Sophie on that, afraid that the girl might topple over in the 18 cm ballet boots she was wearing. She then looked back at Sylvia only to discover she was peeling the second hood with the built in gag from her face. Under it was yet another stark white rubber hood, but this time there were eye holes and a mouth hole. Finally, Sylvia could speak.

“Oh, thank you, dear. That was a wonderful ordeal, but definitely a relief to get out of! I am Sylvia Sutcliffe, owner of Atelier Sutcliffe. And you are?”

“Katherine Duane of News and Entertainment.”

“Fabulous! Mistress Rose said you would be stopping by today. Here, help me get my daughter free and back to her desk, then we can see what you need for Lord Waldron’s daughter’s presentation.”

She stood suddenly, surprising Katherine with her sure footed balance in the tall ballet boots. They not only put her en pointe, they had a 5 cm platform beneath the toe, adding a total of 23 cm to her naturally considerable height. Sylvia strode confidently, white latex catsuit emitting the distinctive plik-plik sound of tight rubber clothing. She walked quickly to a small refrigerator against one wall and removed a bottle of water. She opened it and drank the entire bottle in a single move, then extracted two more and returned to Katherine, handing her one.

“We have nothing but water, I’m afraid, but you are welcome to a bottle. I needed to replenish liquids after that ordeal. Katherine took the proffered bottle and opened it, then slowly drank a few sips.

A few steps brought Sylvia over to Sophie who was still sitting patiently, in complete encasement, with her bulky black rubber hood firmly mounted on her head and face. Katherine looked at it carefully and could not understand its design. The face was perfectly smooth, showing not even air holes for breathing, but the rest of the hood was smoothly curved around her head. “A gas mask, perhaps?”, thought Katherine.

Sylvia took the other bottle of water and opened an inconspicuous flap at the back of Sophie’s helmet. She poured the entire bottle into a reservoir built into the helmet itself. She closed the flap, then waited until Sophie nodded her head vigorously. She had consumed the water in the helmet through a tube.

Sylvia began to undo the hood from the corseted, armless figure. As it came off, Katherine suddenly realized what it was. But before she could say anything, Sophie spoke.

“Miss, thank you for coming ‘round. It was wonderful to have you arrive and release us. Mother and I have been sealed and suspended for more than a day! Mistress Rose is quite devilish and we might very well have died of dehydration had you elected to not show. You gave me some trepidation with your phone call this afternoon.”

Katherine laughed. “Yes, I confess I was shocked at first, and even a bit angry, when Rose told me how she had left you, but Lord Reynolds explained that she had left a watcher and you would not have been allowed to die. You had me going for a while, though.”

“But tell me, how did you answer phones, doors, and such?”

“I was left with the ability to speak and hear. The helmet is an isolation and indoctrination helmet which can either project sights and sounds to its wearer to drive her insane or can listen and relay voice commands. In this case, mother has it rigged to the communication system here in the atelier. I usually wear it all day, answering phones, routing calls, making appointments, even producing documents.

You wear it all day?”

“Yes, it lets me be at the center of our little world here, without ever having to move, So I can remain properly bound at my desk all day long. Or serve as a living mannequin for mother’s fashions without having to forego my receptionist duties.”

Katherine looked at Sylvia. “Does she make you coffee as well?”

Sylvia responded, “Not exactly. Sophie has no arms.”

Katherine’s mouth dropped open. Her head swung back to Sophie. “You have no a-arms?”

Sophie laughed, wincing a little as she took a breath. “No, miss. My arms were removed surgically last year when I knew I was to become Mistress Rose’s rubber slave. I always wanted to be an armless latex statue and Mistress Rose was kind enough to pay for the surgery as soon as I reached my majority, but insisted I remain in school until graduation. I turned 18 in October. I was armless by November 1 and graduated in June.”

Katherine looked bemused. “My God, that woman is perverse. She never said anything about this. Why did you want to be armless?”

“I wish to be a statue someday, sealed in rubber, on display or mounted for sexual use in a mistress’ home. Actually, I would not mind losing my legs as well and becoming just a sort of rubber object, mounted sexually on a pedestal, perhaps.” Sophie’s eyes grew dreamy in her black hood as she said this.

Katherine turned to the world famous fashion designer with a look of awe. “You were ok with this? Your own daughter amputated, mutilated?”

Sylvia smiled, brightening her already stunning white rubber face. “Oh yes. Sophie has had such a fantasy for years and even as a child she had me bind her arms behind her and loved wearing Venus corsets similar to the pin corset she has on now. She is a true masochist and very, very kinky. Who was I to stop her achieving her lifelong dream? I even made one of my gimp suits for her when she was just 14 so she could experience no arms and no legs while encased in rubber.”

“I used to sleep in that suit! It was so warm and confining!”

“So now, relatively helpless, you serve your mother as a receptionist using a fully voice controlled communications and security system?” Katherine asked.

“Indeed, I do! Mother keeps me at home when I am not being used by Mistress Rose. She uses both of us quite frequently though, so we are left at her flat as often as not. Sometimes she even takes us into and leaves us at her rubber club. Members can do that as long as non-member slaves are totally sealed and unable to see, speak, or hear. They have several beautiful dungeons where we can be used and I am often subjected to the whims of other members stimulated by the thought of my being armless.”

“Subjected to the whims…?” Katherine gave her a questioning look.

“Other members enjoy using me sexually or as a submissive for whipping and beating (love that!) or watching me come from electrical or manual stimulation. Some just like to fuck me in all sorts of positions. Others like that I am so helpless and they perform medical kink scenes on me like tube feedings and enemas. I really enjoy total helplessness and Mistress Rose lets me experience all variety of perversion and kink when she leaves me at her club.“

“What a life! When do you get any work done, Sylvia?”

“Mistress Rose is very conscientious of my design time and the need for creative space in my life. She permits me to work unimpeded many days. Always in latex, of course, and with some minor restrictions, but essentially unhampered.”

“Yes, I suppose that as Rose has her work schedule, you have yours at approximately the same time.”

“Indeed, we both do. With occasional days like today when she has something special planned.”

“My need for a gown suitable for attending a Rubber Society party. Damn! She had this planned”, Katherine chuckled. Rose must have decided on Katherine to attend the party days ago. Not the last minute thing she made it seem.

“In that case, what does Atelier Sutcliffe have for me?”

Sylvia smiled happily. “Let’s get Sophie re-installed at her desk, then go see.”

The tall white rubber goddess helped her daughter rise, then walked her straight, confined, armless body out of the workroom to the sales desk. Sophie and her mother both walked confidently in their ballet boots. Katherine followed behind, marveling at the undulating rubber encased figures in front of her. Sensual thoughts began to form in her forebrain while intriguing emotions boiled up in her hindbrain. She found herself growing quite damp at the thought of using/joining these two in a rubbery outfit and rubbery fun.

Sylvia sat down in a comfortable, latex upholstered chair behind the desk. In front of her was a blank and empty space. No monitor, no computer, no telephone, no papers… just an austere black glass desktop.

Sylvia carefully put the strange hood back on Sophie’s head and fastened it tightly in the back. The helmet had both a large steel zipper with locking tab and a set of heavy rubber straps which buckled across it. At the bottom of the rear of the neck a small hole permitted air to enter for the wearer. Sylvia explained that there was an empty space in front of Sophie’s mouth and a stereoscopic screen in front of her eyes.

“She can speak and see what is on the screen. Right now she is seeing this.” With a wave of her hand Sylvia activated a normal screen built into the wall beside Sophie. It showed the Atelier from four different angles, a security system display allowing Sophie to see every inch of the space. As the two women watched, the monitor shifted to another display of four other cameras. Sylvia seemed to do nothing, but suddenly one of the quadrants on the monitor expanded to fill the screen and Sylvia and Katherine were seeing themselves from Sophie’s point of view.

“She can select from any channel. Eight cameras in and around the atelier and up to 500 for entertainment. She can hear us or she can tune us out and listen to what is coming in over the camera feeds. And she can speak to us as well.”

“Yes, Mother, I can.” Sophie’s voice seemed to emanate from everywhere in the atelier.

Katherine laughed. “You have total control all from your little rubber throne. Absolutely amazing!”

“Mother and Rose came up with the idea and tested it on the old receptionist, Mary. It worked well enough that I became the receptionist as soon as I graduated and could spend as much time as they chose here, encased in total rubber, dreaming kinky thoughts all day… except when we have clients!” Sophie laughed as well.

“She can also be stimulated while in that suit and that helmet”, Sylvia said. “Watch her.”

Sylvia made a gesture on the wall monitor and a small window appeared. She tapped a control in the window. Her daughter suddenly went rigid, arching her back and trembling. Moans emanated from everywhere in the space.

Sylvia tapped another control in the window and Sophie began to scream into her helmet. Deep, sensuous, orgasmic screams.

“I, or Mistress Rose, can electrify her pin corset and her vaginal and anal plugs from here. The needle sharp pins in the corset penetrate and sting her every time she breathes, but now we’ve added electricity to the torture as well.”

Sophie was now moaning deeply into the helmet, transmitting it all throughout the atelier. Katherine felt herself becoming aroused at such sexual sounds and at the thought of what the rubberized, helpless, armless young girl in front of her was experiencing.

“Sophie is extremely masochistic and interprets pain as pleasure. Just a few volts to her nipples or to her clitoris and she is in screaming orgasmic agony. She has loved electrical orgasms in rubber since she reached puberty. I gave her pleasure and pain toys for self stimulation on her birthdays all through high school. But now she can have the pain administered by lovers like myself or Mistress Rose.”

She tapped the monitor screen again and Sophie’s cries slowly diminished, the rubber form slumping into momentary unconsciousness at the pleasurable release from electrocution’s paralyzing hold.

Sylvia, standing over 2 meters tall in her shining white rubber skin, lovely large latex breasts protruding over a slender nipped in waist, fully aware of how much pain and pleasure she had just dealt her physically altered daughter, smiled at Katherine.

“Now”, said Sylvia suddenly, “Let us see what you should wear to your first Rubber Society soiree!”

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