Entering Rubber Society 6: The Flat

Her autocab pulled to the kerb and Katherine was delivered onto the pavement. The afternoon sun was dim and the clouds from earlier rain still covered the sky. The streets were still moist, the temperature cool enough to warrant a jacket.

She walked with her now trademark precision steps across to the entryway of her building, a sleek obsidian scalpel rising high above surrounding skyscrapers. She felt her hips swing as she navigated the pavement in the resistant hobble skirt. Two young women passed in front of her, their lithe bodies totally sealed in red latex, including white polka dotted dresses distinguished by short flared skirts with white latex petticoats just barely visible underneath, a style that had recently returned for youngsters. The two were holding hands as they sauntered down the street.

A large plaque at the entryway proclaimed the building “Sharp Tower” but locals referred to it as the “Black Knife”. Large silver framed doors of black glass loomed before her, then slid silently away as the building scanned through her gas mask lenses and found her irises, recognizing a tenant. She stepped smartly into the lobby of glittering black tile, her heels clicking and echoing off darkly reflective wall panels, her rubbered head held high by her neck corset and her hat still tilted at an impossible angle. Her left arm was slightly raised, crooked at the elbow, and the small gas mask purse dangled there prettily. The black rubber sheath of her gloved hands stood out against the white sheen of her latex jacket.

Catching sight of herself in one of the many reflective surfaces, Katherine thought, “Good god, I look like a runway model. How did that happen?”

The concierge stood at his usual post behind a large transparent desk. Its surface flickered with monitor displays of different parts of the building. Katherine glanced at him and could not help but smile at the open mouthed amazement on his face.

Amaar saw confirmation on his desk monitors that this was, indeed Katherine Duane, but he was struck speechless by the transformation of his usually prim if traditional tenant into this vision of latex loveliness.

“As-salaam alaykum, Amaar. Did I have some packages delivered?”

“W-wa ‘alaykum al-salaam,” Amaar stumbled slightly over his response. “Uh, yes, ma’am, they were delivered into your flat. One is quite a large crate.”

“Very good. Anything else?”

“N-no, ma'am. But, may I say, you look wonderful this evening?”

“Thank you, Amaar, you may, indeed. I feel wonderful this evening. So, you like my new look?” She spread her rubberised arms wide so he could get the full effect of her hobbling business suit and gleaming headgear.

“Yes, I do. I didn’t know you were a rubberist, though.”

Katherine laughed, “I was not. Not sure I am, even now. Ask me again in a week.” She proceeded with her hobbled, high-heeled gait to the lifts where one opened as she approached. A couple debouched from the car, both staring at the rubberised beauty as she stepped past them into the lift.

“Althea, Peter, have a good evening.”

Stepping over the threshold of the lift, she said, “My place.” The lift closed and started its rise. Katherine chuckled to herself, “Shocked the hell out of the Andersons, I have no doubt!”

As the lift rose toward the 65th floor, the Andersons were querying the concierge. “Amaar, was that Katherine Duane? It sounded like her, but that suit. I’ve never seen her dressed in latex, have you, Peter?”

“No, can’t say I have,” Peter said thoughtfully as he looked back toward the lifts. Althea gave him a look.

“Yes, Mrs. Anderson, that was Ms. Duane”, Amaar answered. “She indicated she’s trying the latex lifestyle for a week or so. I can’t say I know anymore than that, however.”

Althea Anderson gathered her blue wool coat more tightly around her body. “Come along, Peter. We can discuss your fantasies over dinner.” She walked out through the automatic doors, her husband following close behind in his classic tweed suit.

Two hundred meters above, the lift doors opened and Katherine walked into her flat. The building was designed with only two flats per floor and the lift shaft separated them. Lifts opened either North or South doors depending on whose flat they were called to. The lifts opened into the foyer of the flat; they were tenants’ front door.

This was no grand luxury. The designers had a relatively small lot upon which to build the tower and this technique saved a vast amount of space typically lost to hallways. The ‘luxury’ of a lift that opened directly into your flat was one of the attractions of living here that had little cost associated with it.

Communal floors below provided shopping, dining, and exercise spaces as well as a place to meet and greet neighbors. The penthouse totally occupied the top two of the two hundred floors and the floor below that was given over to a communal observation deck with an open-air garden available to all tenants. Katherine found the building provided a lot of privacy yet was very neighborly at the same time.

The scene, when Katherine stepped into her foyer, was as if an explosion had occurred in a fab. There were boxes everywhere, stacked a few high, all with Atelier Sutcliffe logo on them. Against one wall stood a two-meter tall crate of polished plastic. The scrolling sign on it read, “Ms. Duane, Please Open Me First” in bright green lettering.

Ignoring the chaos, she walked through the foyer into the living room. Katherine’s flat was not overly spacious, only about 200 square meters. She currently had it configured as a large open space, two bedrooms with en suite, a study, a kitchen, and a powder room. Her one splash out on acquiring the flat was configuring a large bathroom with the most modern amenities connected to a walk in closet as she enjoyed a good soak as well as a shower. She sacrificed some of her living space for that, but it was worth it.

Her décor matched the ultra-modern look of her flat. Couch and chairs in black and white, coffee table in pale wood with crackled glazing on the top. The main viewing wall, across from her seating area, currently showed an alpine mountain scene, all black basalt and white snow.

Every exterior wall was glass, always black when viewed from outside, programmably tinted from opaque to transparent in any colour she could imagine from within. They were currently tinted a semi-transparent grey, letting in the light from the setting sun, casting soft shadows across the rooms. Over the course of the evening they would become more and more transparent to allow the beauty of the city skyline to appear like a magic display on her walls.

Still wearing her gas mask, Katherine stepped over to the large, bright kitchen and punched up a glass of her favorite red from the kitchen fab. Thirty seconds later it arrived. While she waited, she rested her gas mask purse and pulled her wide brimmed hat off, setting both on the diamond topped bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Never knew Hotel Gummi used this too”, she thought, staring into the transparent, impregnable surface of the bar.

She reached up and started to peel away the gas mask. Something, however, made her hesitate. She had, in the past few hours, become so used to it that she did not want to remove it. She thought of her experience with Rose, two identically dressed, gas masked visions of rubberised lust, coming in tandem as they beat the human chairs supporting them. Katherine pressed her black-gloved hand tightly against her resistant white skirt, hunting, but unable to reach her suddenly wet loins.

“Whew!” she thought as she regained control. Staring at her reflection in the crystalline bar, she peeled the white gas mask off and set it next to her purse and hat.

“I need a shower,” she thought, actually meaning something else. A moment later, she thought, “No, I need to bathe – with a shower – soon!”

But first, there were packages. Still mincing in the white rubber ankle boots, chained together and hobbled by her skirt, she returned to the foyer, glass in hand.

Katherine minced her way to the crate and examined it carefully. Sure enough, there was a big red ‘Open” button. At her eye height, she noticed an obvious iris scanner. The crate would only respond to her pressing the button if it could also verify her identity via scan.

Staring at the scanner from within her black rubber skinsuit, she placed her hand on the ‘Open’ button and pressed. The crate lid split vertically down the center and the two halves slid away around the edges of the crate. The contents brought a gasp from Katherine.

A short girl, dressed in a frilly black and white latex French maid’s costume stood in the crate blinking at the sudden light.

She was in traditional French maid rubber. Frilled cap, opera length white gloves disappearing into the short sleeves of a black, flared mini-dress with large breasts captured in a keyhole bodice with a high frilled collar. The skirt had a petticoat beneath it. Her legs were in transparent black fishnet stockings and her feet were in mid-calf black ballet boots. The entire ensemble was in latex. Her head and face were covered in a black rubber hood, perforations at her eyes. A thin rubber panel, apparently glued in place, covered her mouth.

The maid stepped out of the crate and sank to her knees, proffering a card to Katherine with both hands.

Katherine was stunned to find a living person in this crate in her flat, but it probably wasn’t the most amazing thing that had happened today. She hesitated a moment, then took the card for white gloved hands. It too bore the Atelier Sutcliffe logo.

Opening it, she found a viewer, which played a recorded message. Sylvia Sutcliffe appeared and spoke:

“My Dear Katherine,

“Please accept this little gift in thanks for the wonderful day, today, and for all your custom. This maid will stay with you as long as you wish. She will attend to all your needs and desires as you acclimate to latex before Lord Waldron’s Ball. Afterwards, she will continue to be your maid until such time as you decide to return her. If you do, please tell her so and she will return to her crate. Simply locking the crate with her inside will issue a pickup order and she will be removed from your flat within a day.

“You will find she does not eat much and is as quiet as a mouse. She will be happy to bathe you, dress you, prepare meals, clean your flat, accompany you shopping, and perform any other tasks you set her. She needs no maintenance other than an occasional liquid meal, which she can call up from your kitchen fab.

“She comes with a complete wardrobe, including bondage items I have designed for her. She is delivered costumed as a French maid, somewhat unrestrained, but I recommend you try her in the English maid’s costume. You’ll find it more totally encasing with a mittened blouse with leg o’mutton sleeves, and serious bindings around her feet and knees to hobble her into total submission.

“She is highly experienced as a maid and will serve you well. Do not hesitate to use her sexually, either. She is well trained and very enthusiastic. I thought you could use someone with all the latex we sent along. You will definitely need help dressing when you attend Lord Waldron’s Ball.

“Her name is Simone. She is my other daughter, Sophie’s twin.

“With Kindest Regards

“Sylvia Sutcliffe”

Katherine looked up from the card and then down at the kneeling girl before her. “Well,” she finally said, “at least you have all your limbs.”

“Stand up,” Katherine told the maid. The small young woman rose smoothly from her kneeling position to standing height. The black and white maid’s costume complemented Katherine’s white and black ensemble nicely.

There was something about the panel over her mouth, though. Katherine reached out and scratched with a gloved hand at a corner of the panel. It came away from the hood easily. She realized it was like the adhesive band inside her hat; it was held on by a light adhesive thereby needing no straps. Much more elegant, Katherine thought, than being buckled on over the hood.

Peeling the panel away, she commanded, “Open up,” and as the girl did so, the gag slid out with a wet pop. Katherine discovered there was a penis shaped gag attached to its back, filling the maid’s mouth.

“You may speak.”

“Thank you, miss.”

Katherine stood looking at the girl, maybe twenty-two or three. She kept her eyes cast down but seemed to be unafraid. Katherine presumed she was used to being in service as a latex maid. Hesitating for a moment, Katherine thought about the ramifications and possible complications of accepting Sylvia’s gift.

Then, “Oh, what the hell,” she thought, “let’s see how this mistress/maid thing works.”

“Simone, you are mine until I choose to send you back.” A statement, not a question. In response, Simone, nodded her rubberised head.

“Follow me.”

Katherine led the girl into her living room, then into her bedroom. “This is my bedroom. There is a second bedroom across the hall and a study at the end. I have dinner at 9 at Bondi’s. Run me a bath, help me undress, unpack those boxes into the wardrobe in the second bedroom. Then come into the bathroom and help me get ready for this evening. Do you understand?”

“Yes, miss. Have you chosen your dress for this evening?”

“No. Do you know what your mother sent over?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then choose something for me. I’ve never been to Bondi’s, but I was told that formal, long, with a train is appropriate and that a gag is required.”

“Yes, miss. I shall lay something out for you to approve.” Simone looked around the bedroom, noting the large black satin covered platform bed but saw no wardrobe in the room.

Noting her glances, Katherine said, “My clothes closet opens off the bathroom. The second bedroom has a traditional wardrobe in it that is empty just now.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Excellent. Now, start that bath. Comfortable, not too hot, 35 degrees, then help me out of this suit.”

“Yes, miss.” Simone scurried away into the large bathroom and moments later Katherine heard the water running.

Simone returned and helped Katherine out of her suit jacket, then unzipped the skirt and picked it up from the floor when Katherine stepped out of it. Still crouching, Simone then helped Katherine remove the chain from her corset, and slipped the boots off her feet.

Next she unlaced the stiff neck corset and removed it. A pile of black and white rubber had begun to grow on the bed. Finally, she began unlacing the latex corset Katherine had worn for most of the day.

“Ah! That feels good to be out of,” Katherine sighed.

“But, miss,” Simone said with some confusion, “do you not enjoy being corseted?”

“I do, but this was my first time wearing such a tightly laced one. I’ll grow used to it, I suppose. Now, help me out of the catsuit.”

Katherine was standing before her full-length mirror, the little maid behind her. She admired the smoothness of the black latex and the way it always seemed to gleam and reflect the light. Even after a day’s wear, the shine was still present.

“May I make a suggestion, miss?” Simone said a bit shyly.

“Yes?”

“Begin your bath with the catsuit on. It is most - invigorating - to do so, Mother and Sophie and I find. I will unpack the boxes and then help you remove it when I return to bathe you.” A sly smile played across Simone’s bright red lips.

“The Ladies Sutcliffe know best,” Katherine said with a smile. She walked, sealed from head to toe into her bathroom. Simone held her hand as she stepped up to the platform holding a crystal clear tub filled with swirling blue water. The tub was sensually curved, a component that continued on to its matching sink and vanity, all one piece of crystal with the tub. The tub was smoothly curved, just the right size for Katherine to sit in. It appeared monolithic; no details marred its diamond finish. No waterspout, drain, or faucet handles were visible and no jets.

Simone helped her step in and get seated comfortably. Katherine had certainly never done this in a rubber catsuit and welcomed the helping hand of her new maid.

The sensation of water on her rubber suit was strange. Katherine had been diving and surfing wearing wetsuits which, these days, were very thin and flexible. But this was different. Her senses told her she was wet and dry at the same time, though no water entered the suit.

She sat down gently, the water swirling slightly around her. “What a strange sensation,” she thought. “Jets, and a hand shower in pulse mode,” Katherine spoke aloud.

Suddenly, jets of water emerged from the bottom and the sides of the tub. Microscopic hydrosonic fields directed, and pressurized jets from the side of the tub and from its base. Turned off, they were invisible. Turned on, they were heavenly.

“Shower wand.” A portion of the tub sidewall under the level of the pulsating water flickered and a handheld shower wand was there. Its optical density, ordinarily identical to that of the tub, made it invisible until called for. Crystals on its surface re-aligned, changing its density slightly to make it barely visible. The feed hose continued to be almost totally invisible, ghostly as she pulled the wand to her.

As she lay back in the familiar embrace of the tub, pulsing jets of warm water and cool bubbles played across her back and around her rubber covered legs. Katherine closed her eyes, letting the soothing massage take her away, strangely comfortable in a totally enclosing black rubber suit, her body technically dry, her mind very wet.

Katherine took the shower wand and pulled it closer to her. Keeping it beneath the surface, she stroked a rubber covered thumb across its back and it activated, warm streams of pulsing water issuing from the head as she held it against her latex stomach under the surface. Stroked the other way it would turn off. Rubbing her thumb around the circular head changed the stream from straight and steady through pulsing patterns and ultimately to a spray before coming round to a stream again. She stopped at a spot that gave her a gentle pulsating flow from the rounded knob on the end.

Katherine recalled her grandmother telling tales of low flow showers with virtually no pressure a hundred years ago, due to concerns about water shortages and the energy required to provide clean water to a growing population. No longer issues, this shower wand was second in pressure only to the MicroClime shower, which graced the corner of her bathroom.

MicroClime units represented the state of the art in bathroom environmental systems. They could create microclimates ranging from dry desert or steamy sauna to sub-tropical and fully tropical rain forest. Katherine’s boasted 750 microscopic hydrosonic jets in complex patterns on the walls and ceiling and well over 200 million combinations of pressure, temperature, steam, fragrance, even colour for her showering pleasure.

A stinging MicroClime shower was her usual choice, but today a bath had sounded wonderful and she knew why. The total rubber enclosure had a soporific effect for some reason, and constantly straining against the rubber’s stretchy resistance had tired her. She wanted to relax, sit, and seek her pleasure.

Taking the shower wand in her hand, she held it down between her legs. The tub’s jets pulsed and massaged, gently soothing tense muscles. The rubber skin seemed to flex and ripple over her real skin.

No, she thought, aiming the shower wand more accurately, the suit was not rippling over her real skin, it was entangled and embedded with her skin, entrammelled, in such a way as to make her flesh mirror any sensation or movement of the rubber. Visions of her labia and clitoris being swathed and massaged by rippling latex flitted through her mind.

The jet of warm water pulsed against her loins, driving into the rubber covering her genitals. It was frustrating at first, but then, moments later, she felt the latex press tightly against her labia, mold itself to her clitoris and she began drifting away on a wonderful sensation, almost as if the latex was licking her, sucking on her delicate nub, arousing her beyond all description.

Once again, rubber took her up to the edge, then she slipped over into shuddering orgasm, achingly holding the shower wand close to keep the sensation coming, while screaming in her mind to push it away and let the rippling waves subside.

Something about doing all that with a layer of soft, warm, wet rubber between her usual tool, the shower wand and her wonderful target, her latex covered pussy, drove her over the top again, then quickly again, one more time. Finally, she jerked the shower wand away from her black latex encapsulated form, feeling her new skin embrace, encompass, enclose, and, in her mind, perhaps even devour her.

Slowly, after what seemed an eternity, Katherine opened her eyes. A rubber-encased face with two pepper pot ovals for eyeholes and a slick panel over the mouth stared down at her. Simone, prim and quite improper in her darling latex French maid uniform stood by the side of her tub looking down at Katherine. She daintily reached up and plucked the gag once more out of her new maid’s mouth.

“Everything is unpacked, miss. I selected an outfit for your evening out and laid it out on your bed. And I have called your concierge to come collect my transport crate and put it in storage. I took the liberty of hanging the clothes with which I was transported in the second bedroom’s wardrobe. I hope that does not offend you.”

“It does not.” Katherine breathed deeply, recovering her senses and her breath. Finally, she said, “undress and bathe me, Simone.”

“Yes miss. Should I join you in the bath?”

Katherine was surprised for a moment, then realized this was for the best. “Much less water on the floor if you do, I suspect.”

“Indeed, miss.” Simone began removing her footwear and her uniform dress. Beneath it she wore a latex corselet, a thin but shaping latex garment reaching from just under her breasts to just below her crotch. It did double duty as a suspender belt with the latex fishnets attached to suspenders dangling from the corselet. Her hood and gloves remained on.

“Nice tits,” Katherine smiled to herself. Simone’s bare breasts were full and firm. Katherine could not tell if that was due to surgery, genetics, or both.

Katherine slid forward and the little rubber maid stepped into the bath behind her, sitting gently and primly, her legs, however, spread to wrap around Katherine’s latex covered body. After a moment, she felt Simone’s gloved hands sliding over her back, kneading and massaging.

“That feels good.”

“Thank you, miss. Are you ready for removal of your suit?”

“Yes.”

Katherine felt Simone feel around her back until she located the nearly invisible zipper tabs. One slid up, the other down. She felt the pressure of the suit relax and coolness on her back told her the suit was open.

Slowly, Simone peeled the hood from her head, a slight “tsk” emanating from her mouth when she encountered Katherine’s short clipped hair. Then the hood was off her face and dangling in front of her.

Next came the shoulders and right, then left arms. Getting the gloves off her hands required turning them and their sleeves inside out. Working with practiced precision, Simone reached around Katherine’s back and peeled the suit away from her breasts, then her stomach and abdomen. The top of the black latex catsuit now floated on the surface of the bath like an oil slick, its sheen hardly dulled either inside or out.

Simone stood and re-positioned herself in front, facing Katherine. The sight of this partially naked, lithe young woman, with narrow waist, scrumptious breasts and curving thighs made Katherine’s pulse race. The tight rubber corselet, white opera length latex gloves and latex fishnet print stockings gave Simone a burlesque appearance.

The mouth Katherine had revealed when she pulled the shipping gag out was sealed over, the ruby red lips just barely visible behind a small circle of perforations.

“What happened to your hood? Did you don another?”

“No, miss. My hood has closeable orifices. I shut them before undressing you.”

“How does that work?”

“This is one of Mother’s special hood designs. Only a few members have it yet. The hood contains microscopically thin, transmutable layers of latex. A control is built into the hood. Swiping my fingers over it gives me opacity, perforations, or open eyes. A different gesture gives left eye only, right eye only, or both eyes. Yet another controls similar options for revealing my mouth or silencing me. There is even a control to seal my nostrils.”

“Heavens, that must be dear.“ Katherine reached out to stroke Simone’s breasts, but the girl flinched slightly and backed away.

“I apologize, Simone. Your mother’s note said that you were available for use. I assumed you would not mind. Excuse me.”

“Oh, no, miss. I would not mind at all – but you are not properly attired for such advances. I would be most uncomfortable if you were to touch me like,” her head nodded toward Katherine’s bare hands, “that.”

“Well, I certainly do not want to embarrass or discomfit you. How does it work normally? Between two RS members?”

Katherine noticed an immediate change in the young woman’s body language. She seemed very uncomfortable all of a sudden, offended or angry.

“What’s wrong, Simone?”

Simone demurred for a moment, then it came in a rush from the rubberised girl. “Oh, miss, please do not use that abbreviation with other members; it is considered most rude.” Simone was obviously distressed.

“Forgive me, please, I had no idea. I shall use only ‘Rubber Society’ from here on out.”

“Thank you, miss, and forgive me if I seemed critical. It is just that the abbreviation is typically only employed by those who are not members. Rubber Society members tend to speak with great care and precision. You may note we seldom use contractions. Our speech pattern is quite verbose and sometimes convoluted, but it helps define us as members of Rubber Society.”

“Is it Rubber Society snobbery?”

“Less that, miss, than a necessity. Speaking through and around rubber hoods, gags, stopples, and other impediments makes contractions slur, sometimes to unrecognizability. We , therefore, tend to speak more roundly, using more words and phrases, not using contractions, and articulating our speech precisely.”

“I see. Now explain about being properly attired. Do you not touch each other’s bare skin?” A thought struck Katherine. “Do you bathe your sister?”

“Of course, miss. I am the housemaid at home. I bathe Sophie and Mother, and occasionally Mistress Rose.”

“How do you avoid touching heir skin?”

“There is always at least one layer of latex between us. I am gloved, so I could touch and bathe your skin, but you are not and to touch my bare breasts would be most improper for rubber Society members.”

“hmpf,” Katherine snorted, “every time I speak to a Sutcliffe woman, I learn more. Simone, I sincerely apologize. I hope you forgive my mistake. From now on you will assume that I wish to be dealt with exactly as you would any member of Rubber Society. No exceptions,” Katherine noticed, but did not comment on the implication that she and Simone would be together for some time.

“Also, you will correct me when I commit a faux pas. But gently, please,” Katherine softened her imperious tone.

Simone’s face lifted inside the hood in what was obviously, if invisibly, a smile.

During this conversation, Simone, facing Katherine, had gently slid the black rubber catsuit the rest of the way off Katherine’s body. She wrung it out as thoroughly as was possible with a long rubber suit, making sure the gloves and feet were empty of water and turned out correctly. She then deposited the suit, still in a wet bundle, on the flowing crystalline lavatory that connected to the side of the tub.

She began to bathe Katherine, who closed her eyes and carefully kept her hands to herself. There was now a social contract between mistress and maid. Katherine felt an obligation to adhere to the rules and protocols of Rubber Society (which would never again be referred to by her as ‘RS’).

Simone washed Katherine’s body, gently rubbing fragrant body gel over her breasts, arm, and legs, traveling downward to her pelvic regions. Katherine, eyes closed, settled back and decided to let happen whatever happened.

Simone touched her labia and deftly stroked them, arousing her, but then moved white gloved rubber hands away.

“Mmmm,” Katherine purred, quietly, but encouragingly.

Without a word, Simone’s right hand, four fingers now folded as small as she could, slid into Katherine’s vagina, her longest rubber finger seeking Katherine’s pleasure point at the top of her vaginal wall. The pressure of her hand, widening Katherine gently, was delightfully filling and arousing. Simone’s thumb, left outside, circled the woman’s clitoris causing it to enlarge and protrude. Sharp moans of pleasure escaped Katherine’s throat.

Simone began to slowly pump her latex fingers in and out as her rubberised thumb circled Katherine's bud.

It took only moments for Katherine to come, and it was not as intense as the previous few orgasms had been. But it was pleasurable, nonetheless. And it demonstrated that Simone was once again comfortable with the relationship. As Katherine relaxed in the afterglow of her pleasure, Simone moved behind her and began to wash Katherine’s hair.

“It is good that your hair is so short, miss. You will have it removed?”

“I wasn’t – was not – planning on it. Why?”

“Short as it is hoods fit without too much trouble or unsightliness. But rubber hoods, especially those Mother designs, will fit much more beautifully and comfortably on a properly hairless head. Most Rubber Society members remove virtually all body hair.”

“All?”

“Yes, miss, all. Except eyelashes, which are plucked in some cases. Eyelashes are problematic since they catch skin and dust and mites preventing them from getting in the eye. Rubber Society members who remove them typically seal their eye sockets behind goggles or surgically implanted shades to avoid any contaminants.”

“Extreme,” Katherine luxuriated in the bathing, the sex, the warmth, and the conversation. She was developing a fascinating view of the continuum of dedication on which members of Rubber Society lived.

Now bathed, rinsed, and pleasured, Katherine was ready to reciprocate. “Shall I return the favor, Simone? You can get me a pair of gloves.”

“Oh no, miss! I-I would not presume to ask you to do so; c-certainly not while you are - not – in-in latex. I-I shall shower in my own suite in a few moments. Then I shall dress and come to retrieve you. Is that all right, miss?” Her voice was actually trembling slightly.

Suddenly Katherine understood. The key comment was the one about her not being in latex. Simone probably found the thought of being touched and/or stimulated by a naked partner distasteful. Katherine filed that away and pretended not to notice.

“Of course, Simone. I shall just soak for a while then, as you make yourself presentable.”

“Thank you, miss,” Simone said with obvious relief. Katherine had not seen the slight shudder of revulsion Simone evidenced when the offer from her new mistress had been made.

Simone exited the tub, then gathered a large bath sheet from the warming rack nearby. She pulled it over her head and down. The bath sheet was actually a sealed, cape-like garment, which now covered her entire body, from her shoulders to the floor. It left her arms on the inside, somewhat constrained, but ensured not a square centimeter of skin showed.

Katherine had closed her eyes while Simone exited the tub. She settled back in the warm water and started the hydrosonic jets again. At the sound of rippling rubber, she blinked her eyes open and saw the new maid swathed in shiny red latex.

“What is that you have on?”

“An absorbent latex bath cape, miss. I brought it in when I prepared your bath. There is another for you which I shall use when I return.”

“Absorbent latex? Rather an oxymoron, isn’t – is it not?”

“No, miss. These are fabbed with a special latex formulation and using a texturing algorithm that produces a latex sheet with the absorbency of fine Egyptian terry, but the look and feel of the best Indonesian latex. We – that is – members of Rubber Society use them almost exclusively. The most dedicated prefer that nothing other than rubber ever touch their skin. Some, like the gimp at mother’s studio, decide to have their own skin enhanced by latex that penetrates and supplants it. I brought two, thinking you might not have acquired one yet. I shall demonstrate its qualities when I return.”

“O-Of course, Simone, you do that.” Katherine realized just how serious her gaff a few moments ago had been. She must find a way to redeem herself.

Simone left the bathroom and Katherine heard her make her way across the polished floor to her bedroom suite. A few moments later she heard the shower in that room’s MicroClime raining down warm spray on the maid. Katherine closed her eyes and contemplated both her mistake and her choice to see this rubber acclimatization through. “Thank god I have a bit of a friendly watcher in Sylvia. There is more to this than just wearing a rubber frock.”

Shortly, Simone returned, now fully dressed and covered, this time in a traditional Victorian maid’s uniform of black, ankle length rubber dress, long leg o’mutton sleeves buttoned skin tight from just below the elbow. The collar of the dress was close fitting and white, turned down.

The skirt of the dress was straight and Katherine could see it was severely hobbling, with neither zipper nor pleat for making walking any easier. Simone’s white gloves still emerged from the sleeves. A white rubber apron draped like a scapular from her shoulders to near her hem. It was belted close to her waist, showing that she must be corseted to no more than 40 cm. The apron passed over her shoulders with rubber straps crisscrossed over her back and tied at the waist with a fancy rubber bow.

Rising out of the collar of her black dress, a white neck corset with black piping encircled her neck and evolved into an attached white rubber hood, smooth and featureless, that covered her head. The eyes were closed, blank, but a single small hole penetrated the hood at her mouth, in the rigid, upturned posture of the neck corset cum hood.

Despite the very traditional look of her latex maid’s uniform, Simone’s shoes were anything but sensible. Ankle high ballet boots with a five centimeter platform gave the little rubber covered girl an extra 22 cm of height, putting her solidly en pointe. The boots were black rubber, polished to such a glossy sheen Katherine could see her own reflection in the pointe shoe face. Bright silver manacles encircled each boot at its ankle height, making it impossible for Simone to remove them. A silver chain passed between them, limiting her stride as much as the gleaming latex of her tight black hobble dress.

Two other silver chains descended from a bright metal collar wrapped tightly around her white rubber neck corset to matching manacles around her wrists. Her arms were held in a position slightly raised from her sides. She could still work, but had limited range of motion.

Simone was seriously restrained, corseted, and constrained by her encapsulating latex uniform drawn from styles worn in the late nineteenth century. But she was prepared to conduct her duties as Katherine’s personal maid.

Simone raised one latex gloved hand and passed it over her face, flicking rubber fingers against the hood. The hood suddenly developed oval shaped eyeholes where a moment earlier it had been solid white rubber.

“Miss, if you are ready, I can dry you, then show you the evening’s costume I chose.” Simone stood by the tub holding the second of the latex bath capes, its red surface glossy and rippling.

Katherine stood. “Drain,” she told the tub and an invisible, until now, drain irised open. Katherine stepped out onto the black fur bath mat beside her tub. Its fur felt good against the soles of her feet. She felt Simone drape the bath cape over her head and as her head popped through, Simone began drying her naked form. She was stunned at how pleasant it felt, the strangely fluffy latex removing the bath water from her body efficiently.

Simone’s rubber gloved hands patted and stroked the bright shiny red rubber cape, moving in downward motions causing the water on Katherine’s body to quickly be absorbed by the interior of the bath cape. She seemed to have no hesitancy about touching any part of Katherine now there was a layer or two of rubber between their skins. She gently patted, then deliberately stroked Katherine's breasts and nipples under the red rubber garment. “All is forgiven, I guess,” thought Katherine to herself, nipples responding to the rubbery touch.

Finishing, the women’s eyes met, the one pair steely grey sharply contrasting the bright white latex, the other pair pale blue, highlighting the fair skin and damp blonde hair. Simone touched the small hole at her mouth and Katherine just caught it closing, filling in with latex from some hidden source. Then, Simone leaned forward and impulsively kissed her. Katherine felt rubber covered lips part and a little tongue press against its latex prison as Simone tried to French kiss her mistress.

Stunned, Katherine returned the gesture, her tongue flicking across smooth white rubber. ‘Hmmm,” she thought, “I guess all truly is forgiven.”

Katherine turned and seated herself at her vanity, enveloped in the flowing red latex ‘towel’. She began to think that having a maid might be somewhat ambiguous with regard to the roles of Domme and sub. But she was enjoying the lessons and this seemed to be part of it.

Katherine watched in the mirror as Simone swiped her rubber-gloved hand over her hooded face. Katherine saw the tiny mouth hole re-appear, as if by magic. Simone picked up a drying mitt from the vanity and slipped it over her rubber-covered right hand. She began gesturing over Katherine's short, damp hair. Microscopic jets of warm air rushed out of the glove’s palm and dried her hair in moments.

Once her hair was dry, Simone removed the drying mitt and picked up Katherine’s hairbrush. She brushed her hair back from the forehead, slicking it down smoothly. Simone made no attempt to style Katherine’s hair, just to get it out of the way of the hood she would wear next.

Katherine stood before the mirror of her vanity. Simone unzipped a hidden zipper at the back of the bath cape and whisked it off her like a matador’s cape. Then Simone held up for her a soft rubbery garment, pale lavender in colour.

“This is a peignoir Mother sent over for you to wear when lounging. If you will let me put you into it, miss, you can have a couple hours relaxation before getting ready for your dinner.”

Katherine looked at the pretty purple latex gown. It was extremely thin, transparent and styled in a loose peignoir shape. But it too seemed to zip down the back and a hood dangled from its front.

Simone held it so that Katherine could step into it and place her arms forward into the loose sleeves, which were terminated with perfectly fitting gloves. Simone zipped the garment down the back, clear to the floor, closing it around Katherine’s form. Katherine discovered that the sleeves did not come out through the front of the garment. They were internal only and she now found herself confined in a comfortably loose rubber dressing gown. The internal sleeves led her arms down and across her front.

The thin, latex peignoir had other surprises. The lower part of the dressing gown, surrounding her legs, was hobbling, being very tight from her mid-thigh to the floor. There was a long train, of the same thin rubber, flowing down the back.

This gave the appearance of the wearer having a soft, diaphanous, transparent rubber robe on when, in fact, she was securely bound, arms and legs rendered useless. It limited Katherine’s movement so effectively that Simone’s help was required for her to take even a step.

Katherine looked at her reflection and was surprised at how the thin transparent rubber, allowing her nudity to be clearly seen, dimmed slightly, enhanced her well-toned body.

“Lavender is a very good colour for me,” she thought. Aloud, she said, “Is this supposed to be a straitjacket of some sort?”

“Yes, miss. I think you will find it most comforting and enjoyable for resting. Mother, Sophie and I all spend many hours in similar dressing gowns quite often. I suggest you let me hood you, then lead you to the living room where you may rest in bondage for a couple hours before being dressed for dinner.”

“You put each other into bondage? I thought all of you were submissive.”

“Yes, miss. In this case there is no domination or submission. We just enjoy being restrained. We were raised to it from early childhood.”

“Are all three of you lesbian?”

“No, miss. Mother is, but Sophie and I are bisexual. However, none of us wishes to have a master. We all sought mistresses. And, since we are all deeply in love with each other, our current arrangement works well for us; each of us in our desired place in a D/s hierarchy.”

Simone then reached around Katherine’s head and pulled the attached hood up and over the woman’s face. She zipped it shut from the crown of Katherine’s head down to the neck of the ‘dressing gown’, sealing Katherine once again into a full enclosure garment with a hood. A hood with neither eye nor mouth holes. She could still see, through the layer of transparent latex, but when she tried to comment she found the tightness of the hood prevented speech.

Katherine quivered slightly as it settled on her shoulders. The latex was cool but not cold and smoothly enfolded her body. She marveled at the appearance of her head inside this transparent hood. “Hmmm – hair,” she thought, looking at her short cropped hair matted down inside the see-thru hood.

“It was sized and proportioned just for you,” Simone said, “Even loose as it is, it has specific measurements to match your figure.”

Simone led Katherine, helpless now in the all enclosing rubber, out of the bathroom to the living room and seated her in the comfortable reclining chair. Then, with a swipe of the maid’s hand over the hood, everything went black. “I have opaqued your hood, miss. You will find the isolation conducive to sleep. I shall occupy myself with cleaning the flat in the meantime. You have about two hours before we need to make you ready for your dinner at Bondi’s.”

Katherine found she could not effectively respond. She could say nothing with the ultra thin but ultra tight hood covering her lips, the resistant rubber preventing them from even opening. She could not raise her arms, secured as they were deep inside the rubber peignoir she had been dressed in. She could not stand, nor could she even separate her feet, the hobbling gown was so severe. She did discover, however, that her hands were placed perfectly to allow her to masturbate. Laughing to herself, Katherine thought, “Well, if I do not mind performing a bit of illicit activity with my rubberised maid likely to see, I can pleasure myself for a while. I suppose that is the idea.”

Katherine felt the reclining chair slide back and embrace her in its comfortable cushions, automatically adjusting to the body it found itself supporting. As a journalist she had spent many hours sleeping in this chair when she was working on a story late at night. Now, sealed, restrained, bound, and isolated as she was, she felt a moment of panic as Simone placed the chair into its reclined position. Then, Katherine decided to not panic but rather to enjoy the situation as much as possible. She began to finger her clitoris, the pleasurable feelings rising in pitch until she came gently, quivering rather than jerking as the pleasure once more flowed over her. Afterwards, she felt herself begin to drift off into sleep assured that Simone would wake her and dress her in a few hours.

What Katherine could not see was her new rubber covered maid, standing, watching, riding the same tide of pleasure as she brought herself to orgasm using a remote controlled vaginal insert. Simone shuddered along with Katherine, then, when it was obvious Katherine was asleep, turned and began to clean the flat, her latex uniform making quiet ‘plik-plik’ noises, her silver chains tinkling lightly, and her ballet boots sounding staccato clicks on the hard surfaced floors as the totally committed and latex encapsulated young woman moved from task to task.

“Yes,” she thought, “they were right. Katherine is ripe for the picking.”

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06.07.14