Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Institutionalised 6: My Turn

by rbbral

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© Copyright 2017 - rbbral - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF+/f; F/f; clinic; inpatient; captive; latex; costumes; catsuit; hood; playroom; punish; bdsm; spank; paddle; petgirl; hucow; milked; video; lesbian; oral; anal; climax; cons/nc; X

story continued from part five

Part 6: My Turn

“Connie, you will have fifteen, yes fifteen.” I moaned into my mask, but Tyra carried on as if nothing had been said. “More than your schoolfriends here, why, because you are the reason we are all here in the first place. So your lesson will be considerably more painful I’m afraid. And remember, the same rules apply, move a step, raise yourself, move your hands, and that strike doesn’t count. I want to see real discipline from you. All right, deep breaths now.” The first strike was so shocking that I lurched forward, MMMM!, I screamed.

“Oh, dear, well that one doesn’t count.” She coolly said, and then the next one came, ohmygod. But this time I held my ground.

“Good, that’s better.” The third, my “second” sent shudders through my body, but I held firm again. I won’t go into my reactions to each stroke, but will say by the end of it I had absorbed sixteen strokes. How I had held it together I don’t know. My buttocks were on fire. The thick rubber panties took a lot of the sting I was sure, but there was a throbbing, pounding pain now. My legs were shaking, sweat was streaming down inside my mask, I barely felt the plug in my bum, I was struggling to breathe as Tyra raised me, still stroking my buttocks.

“Not bad at all Connie, and yet you can see in the mirror here, you look quite unperturbed, yes, bad joke.” I was still wobbly on my legs as Tyra placed an arm around my waist, holding me to her.

“There, there, now you understand I think, that we hold all the cards here. You were actually very brave, Connie, and I don’t expect you want a second helping too soon, do you?” The beating was so hard, so painful, I had barely noticed the butt plug earlier, but now I could feel its presence. I was still panting, getting in air, and at that moment I was actually happy to have the occlusive rubber mask clamped over my head to hide my condition. As I leant into her, exhausted and dizzy, I looked across at Jessica and Dawn, and could see that during my punishment they had casually been making love, kissing, licking, fingering, stroking, without a second’s care for me.

But then again, why should I have been surprised at that?  Now they separated, pulling up their panties, their skirts down and arranging their uniforms, smoothing out their hair, it must have been a torrid session. Jessica turned off the cameras, as Tyra held me at arm’s length, studying me.

“I think I told you this before or was it Mann, can’t remember. Connie, you have just experienced the tip of the iceberg of what we are capable of here. Our subscribers, thousands by the way, are very demanding and have eclectic tastes,” she smiled at her choice of word, “there is so much more we can subject you to. I for one would not want to do any of this to you, as some of this stuff is pretty heavy duty, but Mann is adamant that you will be brought into line, no matter what, do you understand? So I’m going to tell you this for your own good, as to what could happen to you if you carry on testing us. Now, in our field of fetish, piercing is a favourite, yes, I’m sure you know that, and here,” she placed her finger on my nose, as I shuddered, “septum, or sides, or both, or here,” she took both my nipples under the rubber shirt between her fingers, “are two options that are popular with the aficionados. Are you getting my drift Connie, I want you to be fully aware of what could happen to you.” She took my nipples again, through the rubber shirt, and I gasped.

“We could run a thick steel rod horizontally behind your nipples and attach a couple of shackles.” I mmmmmed loudly and shook my head. “No, not nice at all, but we won’t do that, unless we absolutely feel the need to, oh, and down here,” she slid her hand under my short skirt and rubbed my labia through the panties, “yes, this is open to all kinds of possibilities. Labia rings, vertical or horizontal, we could sew you up nice and tight, leaving just enough for peeing and cleaning, but no cock for you. And a clit ring, very attractive, and much in demand by subscribers. Are you getting the message, Connie? Now don’t think we can’t do this, we just alter your admission records stating that these were all in place before you arrived, apparently you were a girl who liked to live on the edge.” I shook my head again, my pageboy swinging across my inscrutable rubber face.

“And I haven’t finished yet, we could tattoo you, that’s socially acceptable now, yes, how about “Tyra’s Pet” down here above your pussy, that would be attractive I think. Or, and this I think you wouldn’t like, how about a brand, permanently here on your bum? You see Connie, there are endless opportunities to remind you that we hold all the cards, hhmm?” She pulled me to her, and now our rubber faces were inches apart as she looked down on me.

“Let me tell you, absolutely honestly, I don’t want to have to do any of this, I don’t want any of us to do this to you, but you have to be made aware that we might, if we feel we have to. You see our dilemma. Now I do hope you have learnt something tonight.”

I nodded, for I was in so much discomfort that I just wanted to get back to my room, and Tyra seemed to sense this, but said.

“Good, I really hope you understand now, oh and one last thing, undo your collar and tie, I have something for you.” Dawn passed her something and Tyra held it in front of me. It was a two inch wide rubber coated steel collar, with a tiny lock at the back and a disc at the front engraved “Tyra’s Pet”.

“Yes, I couldn’t resist it. And you are my pet too. I was going to give it to you, to wear in perhaps happier times, and you might not have minded. You should be happy to be my pet, for me to play with you. And you know I love doing that.” She placed it around my neck and I heard the faint click of the lock.

“It serves two purposes now, it reminds you of who you are, yes, my pet, and in case you forget who you are, it makes the mannequin mask impossible to take off. I’ll decide when this comes off, you’ll be here in security for quite a while, we have already advised the staff of your most recent mental relapse and break for freedom, so we can keep you here as long as we wish. It will be hot and sweaty and very uncomfortable for you in that mask. The gap in your lips allows you to be fed by a tube, again. Although we’ll stick to healthy shakes and smoothies, which you can get through a straw, and you’ll be able to brush your teeth, it won’t be easy, but better than the force feeding. But for the rest, you’d better get used to the rubber, and looking in the mirror and seeing an impassive stranger staring back.”

She stroked my cheek, I could tell she still had real affection for me, that was very clear to see, even with her mask on, but she was just “doing her job”, educating me in the reality of my future life here, and hoping I had got the message. The list of “procedures” that they were prepared to subject me to were still ringing in my ears. Then she kissed my rubber lips.

“Now off to your room, you can deal with the butt plug, and your clothes I want washed and powdered by morning.” She nodded at Jessica and Dawn, and they led me back to my room, my rear passage plugged and my buttocks still burning.

Serving the Mann

Once I had eased the butt plug out of my rear, and I have to admit I was getting quite good at that, I pulled off the sweaty schoolgirl uniform, I spent at least five minutes in the shower, aiming cool water at my burning red/blue buttocks. Despite that I spent a fitful night, my backside throbbing. As I lay awake I thought about what Tyra had said. I didn’t doubt that Mann would be quite happy to undertake all those procedures on me, even for fun - the piercings, tattoos and even brandings, so although I hadn’t perhaps to be on my best behaviour, I knew that eyes would be on me, and my chances of a second bid for freedom, if it failed, would have painful consequences.

But I did take some consolation from Tyra’s words that, she didn’t take great pleasure from beating me so hard, it was Mann’s decision, and that was it. Yes, I had displeased her, but she had admitted that she understood that it was something I had to try. I hoped, fervently hoped, that our relationship had not been permanently soured.  

Nonetheless, on her orders, I was locked in that occlusive mannequin mask for four full days. That may not sound a lot, but when you are in it, hot, stuffy, sweaty, suffocating, unable to eat (properly) or communicate (properly), every second seems like a minute. I suppose I was grateful that at least my shorn hair made it more comfortable (?) than my former long locks would have. Looking in the mirror every morning and during the day - you really can’t avoid it, I stared at the mannequin face, unemotional, impassive, and under it and locked around my neck was the disc on my immovable collar - Tyra’s Pet. Well I may have been, but she wasn’t much of a mistress during that time, as she never came to see or feed me, that was Jessica or Dawn. Tyra was still very saddened by my bid for freedom, but I hoped after what she had said, she would eventually forgive me. By the end of the four days I was exhausted, frustrated and yet now pretty well accepting of it all.

After the four days, it was Jessica who released me, the collar first and then the tight mask, which at first she had difficulty even getting off. My hair, short as it was, was matted to my head, my face puffy and red. I immediately had a long shower, and shampoo (although there was not much to shampoo).

I didn’t see Tyra for ten days, and despite the cruel paddling she’d given me I missed her and began to worry that she really wasn’t going to forgive me. I missed her and her expert lovemaking, that was the bottom line. During those ten days, my buttocks completely healed. They had provided me with antiseptic cream, which I applied daily and as the days passed they healed and I felt a lot better.  During that time I had only one session in their playroom, and it was a simple affair. I was dressed by Jessica and Dawn in the schoolgirl uniform again, only identical to them this time, with a transparent rubber mask under my pageboy wig.

Again, I found myself disappointed that Tyra was not there. Why was that? She had beaten me hard, and yet I missed her. Mann was there this time, and I realised quickly that this was going to be a variation on the session I had had with Tyra. Mann was dressed in his black catsuit and mask, and draped over his shoulders was the gown that Tyra had worn, so I suppose he was meant to be the stern schoolmaster. I was to be the star once again, for after giving the girls a fairly tame paddling on their rubber buttocks they were permitted to retire to the bed again and some Sapphic sex. Now was my turn, and Mann commanded me to kneel and then unzipped his fly. Well, nothing surprising there I suppose. Apparently, he thought I had excellent fellatio skills, and it made me wonder that if I messed up on purpose, then perhaps I wouldn’t have to be subjected to doing this to him. I had no real problem sucking cocks, I quite liked the meaty, warm muscle hardening under my attention and I knew I was getting better, but the problem I had was the prick at the other end of this cock!

Anyway I took him slowly into my mouth, well aware that I was the star of the film. I placed my palms on his buttocks and I licked, and sucked and nibbled and pecked, trying to take my mind off the fact that this was Mann. After maybe ten or fifteen minutes I finally felt him coming, so I had done quite well, I thought. I knew that if I withdrew I would be punished, and so took a breath before I felt his semen gushing copiously into my mouth. As per the usual requirements, I swallowed it all, then licked and cleaned him up, and for my pains got an appreciative stroke on my bewigged head.

And that was it, he barely said a word to me, I think he just enjoyed the power he had over me, getting me to do something he knew I detested, not the cock-sucking, but having to do it to him. But a strange sight no doubt it was. Clearly, a mature woman, dressed and masked in a rubber schoolgirl’s uniform blowing her schoolmaster, also encased in rubber. Well, compared to some of the scenarios that went in that room, perhaps not all that bizarre.

Finally Renewing A Relationship

As I said, it was ten days after the severe paddling that I saw Tyra again, and that evening Jessica, still in her standard nurse’s uniform came for me.

“No need to change, Connie, you’re fine as you are.” And with a sly smile she led me to the playroom. And the only person in the room was Tyra, who nodded at Jessica, who then left us alone. I took a breath, for she was displayed (the right word I think) on the bed, in an imitation of Manet’s Olympia. But she was not naked of course, for she was dressed in exactly the same red and black rubber crotchless corselette, stockings and gloves as before, but this time no mask. I said nothing as usual, waiting for her instructions, but my heart was beating faster already. She took a while to say anything.

“I watched your reaction last time I wore this, I think you like me in this so I wore it - for you. I’ve been mad at you for nearly ten days, Connie, mad that you might have got away, and not quite so mad in that I understand why you felt you had to try. I understand that. But ten days, I think that’s enough, don’t you? I hope you learned something from that paddling. I know it must have hurt like hell, and it was meant to. I had to get across my message, that whether you like it or not, you will stay here.” She stroked her thigh, evening out a crease in the rubber stocking.

“What’s that phrase? You and I “make good music together”, something like that. Don’t blush, you are the best lover I’ve ever had, and believe me, I’ve had a few, mostly women, but not all. I don’t know where or how quickly you got the skill, but I’m happy you did.” She swept her hair from her face a la Veronica Lake, yes, she was certainly a throw back to the 40’s and 50’s beauties, and she had the body for it.

“Now you can carry on hating me for keeping you a prisoner, I understand that, and I can carry on hating you for trying to escape after all the fun we’ve had. Quite the conundrum, we could hate each other, and love or make love to each other, as if we were made for each other. Which I think we are, by the way. Would you disagree with anything I’ve said so far?” She smiled, perhaps even a bit nervous as to what the answer may be. I thought for a second.

“No, no, I suppose not. But you do understand my predic…”

“Perfectly.” She held up a gloved hand, palm towards me. “Perfectly, and you understand that I, we, have a good thing, a great thing going here. Lots of money rolling in, tons of it, and doing things we like to do. Hard to give up, yes? Impossible really.” Her eyes moved up and down, almost devouring me. “Now take your top and bottoms off.” It was said in more of a request than an order, and I complied, more than content to. She smiled, tight-lipped.

“Hmm, you are a beauty, I get goose bumps just looking at you, and thinking about your tongue and lips. And I love those old-fashioned girdle panties on you. Are you wet under there, I wonder?” I didn’t answer, as she sat up on the side of the bed, quite stunning in the shimmering black and red rubber.

“So, what happens now? I suppose we carry on like this. You trying to escape and me trying to keep you here, all very Colditz” She laughed drily. “You know, I’ve thought about this more and more. I don’t think you would tell on us of you escaped, no I don’t.” She looked rueful now. “But I’m afraid we can’t take that risk, however small, we really can’t. We are making pots here, oodles, and partly thanks to you. Did you know that since you went on the site our subscriptions have risen 30%, extraordinary? That’s a lot of money Connie.” She placed a hand on my panties and began to rub, very tenderly my labia through the ventilated rubber. I didn’t take a step back, but stood still, breathing heavier now.

“Maybe I should get a cut.” I said rather cheekily, but I was already getting moist. She ignored my comment.

“There are some patrons that are coming up with some great scenarios we could try. They really like you, you’re the star, and why not, you have very impressive talents, but then of course I don’t have to remind you that it was you that got yourself into this pickle.” Now she stood, at least three inches taller than me, and leant over, our lips barely touching. “So, we carry on as before.” And she kissed me, and I just about melted.

We made love as veterans. I knew her body very well by now; its aroma, earthy musk, and I knew every muscle. The weight of her breasts, the tenderness of her nipples, the wet succulence of her pussy, like a plum, a fig, a peach and even every sensitive millimetre of her tight sphincter.

And she knew me, and exactly how to arouse me effortlessly, she was a maestro, and I the violin. I had quickly forgiven her the beating, but I would still try to escape, I had to, and she knew that. We did everything we could, and everything that can be done between two women, two lovers. She even licked her gloved finger and played with my tight (well not as tight as hers anymore) sphincter, tickling me, probing me, exploring every pore of me, and by the end I was a sweaty mess of exhaustion. I had tasted and savoured her, and she me, and nothing was held back. I truly loved her in that red and black rubber, so restricting and yet so flattering.

Afterwards we lay together on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and I whispered.

“Would you really have, you know, what you said the other day.” She turned to look at me, pushing out her lips in thought.

“What? Pierced you, rodded and shackled your nipples, your labia, clit, even branded you? Oh yes.” I must have looked shocked, after all we had done in the previous hour. But she placed a gloved finger, smelling of my drying juices, on my nose.

“But only if you asked me, wanted me to.” She chuckled. “Any severe punishments will be decided between us, and I have made it clear to Mann, that I won’t do it, all right?”

“Oh, well erm thank you for telling me. But, erm, no way, no way would I want you, ask you voluntarily to do any of that.” She moved her sticky finger to my lips, silencing me.

“You’d be surprised, Connie. anyway, they would be a badge of honour, to show you and I are truly attached. And by the way, you would look superb. I would love to brand you as mine, on that gorgeous buttock of yours, but I’ll leave the decision to you.” And she began to stroke the front of my panties again.

Could she have been right? Would I allow her to do that to me? Pierced and/or branded? With my head in a bit of a spin, I slowly drifted to sleep, still feeling her hands caressing me and finally her arms encircle me.

Adapting To My New Life

Over the next weeks and months Dr. Mann and his three female cohorts had convinced everyone - medical colleagues, nurses, patients, my sister of course, my former workmates, and of course the legal panel - that I was here for my own protection and for society in general. That I have suffered a calamitous breakdown, and it would take many months, years indeed, for me to be rehabilitated. Although for much of the time I may appear lucid, calm, logical, pleasant, articulate, I was completely delusional. There would be moments when I would lose complete control and need to be restrained; but these won’t last long of course. They all bought it, every lying word. And I became resigned to the fact that I wouldn’t leave here “legally” but would have to make a second escape bid.

To emphasise my psychiatric “condition”, every few weeks they got me unawares to ingest something contained in my food or drink. And this was the potent cocktail that I could do nothing about, and again this black cloud would envelop me for maybe an hour and render me violent and uncontrollable. This was administered to me out of sight of anyone outside our group, and needless to say it provided them with more than ample evidence for them to keep me incarcerated. Sometimes it came on almost immediately, sometimes there was a time lag, but either way, they were in complete control of my behaviour. No matter who I talked to, no matter how logical I was, no matter how I couched my story, no one, no one believed me. Can you imagine what it is like to tell the absolute truth, and everyone believes you are lying or delusional, and smile patronisingly and say, yes dear, of course?

My sister came only a couple of times after she had been instrumental in my return to incarceration, but she comes no longer; she’s now too upset, and frustrated at my bewildering “decline”, in her eyes at least. She still doesn’t accept any responsibility, believing she did the right thing. She now has power of attorney, and has cleared my little house and is renting it out now. I am not expected to return, it seems. I get the impression she thinks I will be here for life. I don’t think so, they sill tire of me after a while, having made serious money, and moved on. I just hoped it would not take too long..

For most of the time I am allowed to mix with the other patients, inside and outside in the garden, although now I always feel eyes are on me. The other patients and I get on well, they are for the most part harmless, and understanding. Only after one of my fictitious “episodes” am I returned to the security wing for a few days.

And then I join my “sisters” and Dr. Mann in their lengthy and ever-changing fetish games. It will come as no surprise that as time has gone by they are getting increasingly strange. Of course they have discussed my upcoming transformation to a pony girl.

“This will make a nice butt-plug tail when we get you into dressage as our pony girl.” Jessica has said more than once, as she stroked my former wavy hair, now glued into the end of the butt plug. Again, I had heard all about girls dressing and acting as pony girls, which for the most part I understood was consensual, but I would have no say in my stint, being bridled, bitted, hoofed and tailed as a pony girl. My transformation would be semi-consensual, in other words I had no choice, but didn’t put up any fight. I didn’t mind my short hair after a while, for it certainly helped when they masked or helmeted me. But like the shaving of my pussy, and the subsequent depilation creams that I applied there, it all comprised a further reminder of the complete control they now had over me.

I don’t mix with Mann at all unless I have to. I despise him and what he has done to me, and I’m just a sex object to him anyway, and I can see him revelling in the power he has over me, and what I’ve been reduced to when in his company. So when I blow him or he fucks me, he does it with a cool arrogance, and I just want to get it over with. And over time he has intensified his treatment of me. The sessions have become more bizarre, with him treating me more as an object, or even animal, to play with, but more on that shortly.

Over time, I have obviously got to know Jessica and Dawn better. Well, only to a certain degree. Our relationship I wouldn’t say is camaraderie exactly, but they seem to have a bit more sympathy for my predicament than Mann does. They obviously know I am here under duress, and can pretty well do what they want with me, but seem at least to try to make it less painful or unpleasant for me. Dawn is the quietest, not unfriendly, just quiet, and I think she may have a bit of a crush on Mann. I can’t think why, he’s such a dickhead. She enjoys her “work” and does come up with some ideas for their scenarios, but usually yields to Tyra or Jessica. I think she just likes the money and why not, and maybe it is just a job to her, if so, she’s certainly good at it.

Jessica is the perky one, always laughing and giggling, even when I’m in the strictest, most uncomfortable situations. She’s not callous; she just loves the whole rubber, bondage, femdom world. I think she would do this for nothing. Outwardly she appears cruel when playing the dom, but to her, this is just fun. Even though I am an unwilling participant (at least for the most part, although some scenarios they have come up with have elicited multiple orgasms from me) she can’t seem to grasp why I don’t get the same kick out of it as she does. I think she wants to convert me to a true rubber lover. And I suppose I’m pretty close already, but I want it on my terms. She however has no boundaries, as she’ll try anything.

And now to Tyra? Well you know our relationship by now. We are obviously the closest, even as captive and warder. She does show concern for my welfare, that I am a prisoner against my will, but calmly, constantly points out that this will not change, and that it is up to me to make the best of it. She is sympathetic but not sentimental. She is making a lot of money, and I really don’t think she will give that up. Not for now anyway. I’m sure now that she believes that if I escape I wouldn’t blow the horn on them, she has told me this and I have told her I won’t. But like the others, she won’t take that risk, and anyway she’s having a lot of fun, and the money is just too good.

I obviously see the most of her, we are lovers after all. We now kiss and caress often, after and before sessions, she says it’s to calm me, but I know she just loves my attentions. And I love hers. Overall, I am a lot calmer now, less angry - I have to accept my predicament, and the lovemaking is therefore becoming more intense. She is a very good kisser and her tongue on my pussy and clit sends me to another planet, so having Tyra showing affection, even love, is for me a huge consolation and makes life bearable. She is incredibly attractive, stunning in her 50’s type frame, all curves and mounds in all the right places and knows exactly how to pleasure a woman, and I don’t for one second regret her attentions any more, and really look forward to them. I have to pinch myself that she is in her mid to late 30’s, as she has the body of a curvaceous, delicious 20 something. Does that mean I have a latent lesbian tendency? Well obviously it does. Mann is just a dick, literally and figuratively, nothing more. I suck his cock for no reason other than I have to, and he fucks me when he chooses to, and that’s it. And everyone else around me are women, and like all women, I do have a sex drive that has to be satisfied. I don’t feel guilty about it at all anymore, not in the least, you take what is offered to you sometimes, and adapt if you have to. And so Tyra is my outlet, and I look forward to her tender kisses and probing fingers. Why shouldn’t I?

The others are obviously aware of my “relationship” with Tyra, and are probably quite happy for it to continue, perhaps they feel having a lover in the institute cools my escape plans. But it doesn’t, she is a wonderful lover and I take enormous pleasure in exploring her in minute detail, but I still have to maintain hopes of an escape.

Having an addition to their group, a female addition, has spurred them on in their fertile, fetish imaginations, and not surprisingly they have concentrated their efforts on me, and as I said earlier, it is getting more bizarre by the week. Their playroom has one long wall comprising rows and rows, and drawers and drawers of rubber clothes and accessories. And believe me they use them. Fans of rubber nuns, schoolgirls, nurses, doms, subs, gimps, ponies, pets and many more are all catered for on their site. There are masks, gasmasks, hoods, inflatables. There are tubes for either extracting from or introducing fluids into the body. There isn’t a kink they haven’t got covered, and usually it involves me. I’ll give you a couple of illustrations.


Perhaps the most bizarre, so far at least, is me playing the role of a cow. Yes, I became Connie the Cow. How odd can that be? I was vaguely aware of the phenomenon on the internet, the pet and the pony were common features, but the human cow is less well known, and the idea of milking a woman dressed as a cow, is perhaps one of the more bizarre scenarios you might find. I think it was just another one of the humiliations and degradations that Mann liked to have me endure. And to have me reduced to the role of the basest of dumb animals seems to give him a real kick. They have acquired I suppose you could call a milking stall for me. It is at the same time both ingenious and weird, and must have cost, along with my costume, and all the equipment, a lot of money, but it seems from the apparent huge increase in number of subscribers, it’s money well spent.

But first I’ll describe my costume. It is of course made of rubber, and its colours are those of a Holstein Friesen, essentially white but with large black patches. The base is a skin tight catsuit with very strategically placed holes, these of course being at my pussy, arse and breasts. My breasts are pulled through heavy banded openings and are gripped firmly at their base, which makes them, and particularly my nipples, sensitive. My feet are laced into heavy hoof boots, in matching black and white with a raised heel, and my hands squeezed into oval inflatable mittens. But it is the head, or mask which is truly extraordinary.

Made out of a heavy single piece of moulded rubber, it is an astonishing piece of design and workmanship, exactly replicating the head of a cow or calf, and yet on the inside it fits the wearer’s human head (mine!) perfectly. It has a snout with shiny black nose, a wide mouth with attached rubber tongue, and floppy ears. The mouth inside is simply a rubber tube that extends into the wearer’s mouth behind the teeth and resting on the tongue. This keeps the mouth open an inch or so and forces the wearer to make sounds that can only resemble that of a cow, amplified by the tube through the snout. All the wearer (me again) can mouth is an oooooh or aaaaah. There are nostril tubes connecting the entrance of the wearer’s nose with the end of the mask. The eyes are of large round slightly curved glass, tinted black, so looking into these doleful eyes gives no idea that there is someone (me again) trapped inside. It is tight, quite heavy, hot and oppressive and completely controls all my senses. There are pads on the inside over my ears and all sound becomes muffled. The collar is deep and reinforced and covers the neckpiece of the suit for a watertight fit. Once the wearer is mittened and cow-masked it is impossible to get out of independently, absolutely impossible. The lenses provide a tinted view, rather like looking through dark sunglasses.

The milking stall is made of tubular steel and strong rubber straps, some cushioned. It is adjustable in all manner of ways, such that the cow (me) once strapped in, can be manoeuvred into a multitude of positions, including standing straight up or bent over until the torso is horizontal. The legs can be spread to a vertical 90 degree angle or even raised off the ground. With all the straps at close intervals along the torso and legs, once secured it is impossible to move at all. Yet strangely, perhaps because it supports all of the body so evenly, it’s actually quite comfortable! And more on that now.

The first time I was strapped into the milking stall was not long after my failed escape and my brutal beating at the hands of Tyra. I got the feeling Mann definitely wanted to instil in me the sense that there would be no more escape attempts, and I was there specifically for their pleasure, and so they significantly intensified my “training”. I don’t know how much Tyra had a say in this. I had always considered her an equal partner in the enterprise with Mann. I hoped that when Mann came up with his more elaborate punishments she would stick up for me and maybe temper his enthusiasm, but also sometimes she just liked to see me tested. And then if it became too arduous she would always be on hand afterwards to offer me succour and sympathy in her capable arms. Maybe this is all in my imagination, I don’t know, but much as I had a serious crush on Tyra, I also knew she had a forbidding side as well.

This time the three women were dressed in identical black rubber riding britches tucked into knee-high black boots, sparkling white long-sleeved blouses over black gloves, and white rubber masks with red trim around the eyes and mouth. I’m not sure what the theme was meant to be, but they looked stunning, particularly Tyra. Without any explanation or any resistance from me, they stuffed me into the black and white Holstein Friesen suit and matching hoof boots, then the inflatable mittens. I had learned not to say much during these dressing sessions, as usually the answer was “you’ll see, just wait and see, it’s going to be fun” accompanied by chuckles. They masked me in an identical white and red trimmed mask to themselves and led me into the playroom. Once inside I saw the stall for the first time, surrounded by strategically placed cameras on tripods. I made a token gesture of rebellion but quickly I was leant over forwards and expertly strapped in, my feet were pulled wide apart and a few inches off the ground, my torso at a 60 degree angle and my arms strapped loosely at my side. I couldn’t move an inch.

I felt horribly helpless and vulnerable, particularly my sensitive breasts that were sticking out though the breast openings, and my defenceless pussy and arse which I was sure would soon receive their full attention. And now came the donning of the cow’s head, with much ceremony. I already had the white rubber form-fitting mask on, so the cow’s head would be a very snug fit, so they talced my rubber head and the inside of the cow’s head. It was then drawn by Tyra (with a wry smile) over my head, with some difficulty, and I sought out the rubber breathing tube with my open mouth. The nostril tubes rested against my own nostrils allowing me rubber-scented air and once the tube rested half way along my tongue, keeping my mouth open, they pulled it tight along the back of my skull and cautiously drew the zip down to the top of my shoulders. I rested my neck on the padded strap under me, and found it wasn’t too uncomfortable, with my head slightly elevated so I could see straight ahead. I stared out of the tinted lenses at the mirror in front of me – there was always a mirror to emphasise my helplessness - and grunted an aaaaah, as they locked it around my neck. In the mirror  I saw a very strange sight indeed, a cow-faced women in white and black rubber, strapped immovably to the frame, with her breasts held in a taut grip by the bases of the breast cut-outs in the suit. I was horribly defenceless as I awaited my fate.

Dr. Mann then made his entrance, and quite an entrance it was. He closely resembled Darth Vader, with a long black rubber cape from top of head to ankles, and covering his face was a full head gas mask. His arms poked through the sides of the cape and were covered in black rubber gloves. The rest I couldn’t see, but I was sure he’d dressed suitably in rubber underneath, and was waiting for the right moment for full dramatic effect. He encircled me, placing a hand here and a hand there on my enslaved body, sliding them down my back, stroking my thighs, caressing my naked breasts. I could do nothing, not even wriggle as, despite the two layers of rubber over my head, I heard him say from behind the occlusive gas mask, his voice muffled.

“Oh Connie, what a mess you have got yourself into.” He laughed. “Oh, look at those lovely firm breasts and tender nipples, just screaming to be abused. And back here, yes, your sensitive anal bud that really does need to be breeched properly with a big hard cock (oh no, I didn’t like the sound of that at all). This is all of your doing Connie, remember that, never forget it, you got yourself into this, you and your nosy nature.” He stroked my buttocks, his ribber covered finger resting, tickling my sphincter. “You’ve caused us a lot of problems, but you won’t be going walkabout again, I guarantee it.” He leant down and took my right breast in his gloved hand, fondling it, squeezing it, then the tender nipple. Aaaaah.

“And now you are reduced to the dumbest of animals, quite a drop for an up-and-coming journalist, ex-journalist that is. What a sad sight you look, have a good look at yourself in the mirror. Once proud, and now just a dumb animal ready for abuse.” He nodded to Tyra by my side. “So now we’re going to attach the milking tubes over your nipples here, I know you won’t be lactating, but that’s not the point of this. The sucking and vibrating of the device will I hope arouse you. It will be a bit sore at first, but you might get to like it, although I don’t really care what you feel one way or the other.” He laughed his cruel laugh again, his voice continuing to be muffled by the gas mask around his head, and the two layers of rubber around mine.

When Tyra handed Mann the first milking tube, I noticed that it was not the simple single tube to go over the nipple, oh no, this was more devious, much more elaborate, and Mann was happy to explain.

“Yes, this will provide you with many hours of sublime teasing and torture (many hours?). As you can see there are two clear plastic tubes here, the outer one you can see is larger and we will slide this over your breast and all the way down to its base, and under the reinforced ring of the rubber suit, making it nice and airtight. We will then suck air out of it, thereby drawing your breast forwards into the tube, until it is stretched nearly to the end, and I can guaranty it will be quite uncomfortable.’ Here I aaahhed my displeasure, but that only seemed to please him. “Ha ha, that bit is fairly straightforward and the next bit is too, and that is the inner tube or vacuum, the real milking device that goes over your nipple, and will tickle and torture you mercilessly. All right ladies, let’s get the cow ready now.”

I groaned another aaaaah, as Tyra took one breast and Jessica the other, and they began to clamp the smaller vacuum tubes over my sensitive nipples. Then they slid the larger tubes down and over my breasts and then under the thicker rubber rings squeezing the bases of my breasts. It didn’t hurt at first. But then they began to hand pump all the air out of the larger tubes.

“Aaaaaaah.” I screamed as my breasts were squeezed and sucked forward into the tubes. My god, they were going to pull them off, or at least it felt like that. Satisfied at last, they now turned on the suction for the vacuum tubes around my nipples and immediately I felt a tingling and sucking. And yet strangely after a minute or so I was surprised to feel it was not that unpleasant.

“Excellent ladies, well done, now we’ll just keep it on a very low intermittent suction for now, while I get down to the real business here.” He moved behind me and I felt his rubber fingers begin to stroke my labia, ooooooh god, then a moist gloved finger slid under my clit hood and found my nubbin. Ohno,ohno,ohno I wailed through my breathing tube. He was the last person I wanted having this done to me. Tyra, absolutely yes, but Mann playing with me like this was almost too much. And I couldn’t seem to resist, or at least my body couldn’t, it seemed to have taken over all my cognisant thought process. Quickly I felt my clit grow and harden.

“Oh, you are a slut Connie, look at you, you’ll be dripping in a minute.” I hated this man, hated him, and I was ashamed to feel myself getting wet under his deviously skilled onslaught.

“Okay Tyra, the last tube please.” And I saw Tyra hand Mann a small tube, maybe a half inch in diameter and four inches long. It was open one end and had a red suction bulb at the other. Oh no, I knew where that was going, and I felt Mann clamp it over my engorged clit and then slowly squeeze the small red bulb. Immediately my clit was drawn out, sucked into the tube. Stop, stop, I tried to shout, yet all I could hear was a loud aaaaaahhhh.

He mercifully stopped after a couple of pumps and now my labia slid back and all I could see in the mirror in front of me was a small clear tube extending from my pussy, with my bright pink clit firmly stretched and held within it. Oh god, what a sad, helpless sight I was. But it wasn’t to end there, oh no, not at all, Mann had other plans.

Anal Breaching and Further Training

“Good, now we’ll get to the real matter in hand. Apart from the remote-controlled butt plug you experienced during your legal hearing, and a few butt plugs during your training which you now seem to be accommodating very well, your rear passage here has remained virgin intacta to a real live muscular cock. This, dear Connie, is going to be amended this evening. I am going to fuck your anal passage Connie, for as long as I wish, and I will enjoy it, and it will be the first of many times, I assure you.”

I grunted and groaned and tried to turn my head to him and all this just amused him.

“As for you, well, I don’t care whether you enjoy it or not. It doesn’t get much lower than this for you Connie, does it? Your breasts and nipples and clit sucked and vacuumed and your bum hole about to be stretched and invaded. This will be your anal initiation, the first of many to come, it will be easier in the future, as your muscle weakens, but tonight will be a bit of a stretch, so to speak.” He laughed again, he was having a great old time.

“I will use lots of lubrication, and I will take my time. The anal muscle is a sturdy one and needs time to adjust, stretch and finally yield, but we have lots of time for that.”

I shook my head and wailed through my mouth tube (and no doubt sounded very much like a cow) as he began to stroke my sensitive rear muscle, up and down, round and round, and then I felt the cool lube smeared around the tight ring. He continued to run his finger around my ring, clockwise, anticlockwise and then he pushed a single digit into me. I gasped and squirmed but knew this was just the start. He continued for a couple more minutes, and my muscle was now getting used to this, and I was no longer subconsciously tightening, and I could tell it was actually very gradually loosening.

Then he came in front of me for his dramatic unveiling. He drew back his cape and I saw he was in the same black catsuit as before. As Dawn continued to film, he pulled down the zip at his crotch, and out sprang a large, erect black rubber cock with attached black rubber balls underneath.

“No Connie, it’s all me, this isn’t a dildo, it’s all me and it will soon be thoroughly embedded in your rear. What I have on is a beauty, a very thick rubber condom with attached ball sac cover, this is specifically designed for anal sex. Gay men are very familiar with them, and you will be too soon. No chance of it splitting at all. They are amazing, you can get them on the internet. It fits wonderfully comfortably and the really good thing is its thickness, so it significantly reduces my sensitivity, which means I can go on for a lot longer.” He chuckled. “Good for me, but perhaps not so good for your arse. So you are nicely lubricated now and a little more relaxed at the back here, I think it’s time to tango, don’t you?”

He squirted another dollop of lube on his black rubber cock and I watched in the mirror as he moved behind me, dramatically sweeping his cape behind him and running his hand along my spine and then my buttocks. I didn’t really know what to expect, I had had the butt plugs of course, a number of them, but the bases of those were narrow, allowing my sphincter to tighten around them.

But there was nothing narrow about the black cock. Other than the wider helmet, the cock, with the thick condom covering it, was a good one and a half inches in diameter. How could I possibly take that? He placed his hands on my hips, stroking me, and then I felt the rubber head of his cock press on my tight muscle. It wasn’t cold, so the rubber was at least thin enough for his own body temperature to warm it. I knew this was going to happen whether I liked it or not, he was going to fuck my arse and I could do nothing to stop him. So I tried to relax, yes, it was hard to do that with a big black cock about to impale me. I was so concentrated on what was about to happen I had almost forgotten about the suction tube around my clit and the two tubes, or four tubes really, around my breasts and nipples, but these were, strangely, not painful, just a mild irritation, at least so far.

The thick, bulbous head of his cock was now pressing at my muscular entrance, he was in no hurry, and pressed and then stopped, then pressed in again, I was sure I could hear him chuckling to himself, the bastard. I looked around and saw the three women in front of me. They appeared emotionless as they watched him ever so slowly continue his buggering. I tried to see what Tyra’s reaction was, but could detect no real emotion. She was back to business, and maybe she would offer me some loving sympathy afterwards. And gradually I felt my tight muscle yield just a little as I tried to relax. He took encouragement in this and held his cock there for a few seconds and then pressed again.

“That’s better, almost in there.” I groaned and grunted, there wasn’t pain, no not pain, but some discomfort certainly. The other women continued to simply watch, standing by my side. And then Tyra, yes, it had to be Tyra, moved to my head and stroked it tenderly, rubbing my floppy cow’s ears. It was now beginning to become a bit uncomfortable. Too late though, for he eased forward again and I gasped as the head stretched me further and suddenly, ohmygod, his helmet was inside me, aaaah, aaaah, aaaah. I gulped in air in even, steady breaths, trying to stay calm. A few seconds after the initial shock I began to adjust and realised there wasn’t much pain, nothing like I had anticipated and worried about.

“There, there, we’re in now, you’re nicely impaled, so we’ll stop here for a minute or so, and let your muscle adjust, you did well. I know it feels that you are splitting in two, and there’s blood everywhere, but no Connie, you are fine and your beautiful virgin rosebud here is adjusting very well indeed. It grips my cock very nicely indeed. It’s stretched of course, but no harm is done. Oh yes, I love looking down and seeing your tight rosebud stretched over my hard cock, mmmm! I look forward to continuing this particular relationship many times.” He chuckled again. Oh I really hated him, and he knew it, but that was the fun for him, he could do as he wished with me, and to emphasise that he now pushed a further inch of his cock into me, oh aaaaah, aaaahh. And he held it there again.

“More lube Jessica, just a drop please, before we go in to the hilt.” Oh no, I was going to take his whole length. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself, sucking in air as I felt his slippery member, now warming up, slide into me another inch, and then another. I could do nothing, just barely wriggle in the heavy rubber bonds of the milking frame. I tried to wiggle my bum, I really don’t know why, but he held my hips firmly and there was very little movement. He held it there for another minute or so, allowing my muscle to relax further, stroking my back and buttocks, while my nipples were subtly assaulted by the milking tubes.

“I think you’re ready now Connie, aren’t you?” And in one effortless yet forceful thrust, not fast but unerring, he was in me, right down to his base, and I could feel his groin and balls touching my rubber buttocks.

But here was the thing that truly shocked me, and sent my mind swirling. I had expected pain and real discomfort, but after the initial entry of his helmet, there was very little. There was a tremendous feeling of “fullness” absolutely. It felt like I was pregnant I suppose, I don’t know – but the overall sensation was not terribly unpleasant, and that stunned me.

Now I know that some gay men, perhaps most of them, and some hetero men and women possibly enjoy anal, but could this possibly even include me. Now I wasn’t exactly enjoying this, partly due to the face it was Mann buggering me, but as the seconds rolled by I realised that the initial pain (and it wasn’t that bad) was fleeting, and now he was inside me I was, well, full I suppose. Should I feel shame or humiliation that I didn’t find this unpleasant? Why should I? thousands or millions didn’t, so why should I? I tried to get my thoughts in order as he very slowly withdrew a few inches and then pushed back inside me. Oooohh.

I was the smooth and sensitive cylinder and he was the perfectly fitting well-oiled piston. The inside of my anal passage had many more nerve endings than I had presumed and these were sending strange signals to my brain. This was different, a lot different to a butt plug, which even if vibrating gives off a totally dissimilar feel. The initial short pain was gone, and it seemed my sphincter was a lot more flexible than I had thought, and while this surprised me, I was very grateful for that. Yes, it was stretched but it appeared it had accommodated his thick cock quite well. And inside my anal canal there was no pain, just a sensitive tube sending very odd messages to my brain

He began to withdraw slowly to the head of his cock, and then after a couple of seconds he pressed forward again. This time it was easier, and he stopped again, followed a minute later by withdrawal and then a further deep insertion.

I looked into the mirror opposite and what a bizarre sight we were. A woman strapped to a steel frame, full breasted, encased in black and white rubber, her head locked into a perfect rubber replica of a cow’s head, and with clear plastic tubes clamped on her breasts, nipples and clit. And behind her a rubber Darth Vader, catsuited, gasmasked and cloaked, fucking her anally. How many people would pay to see this on their site, I wonder? Well I think quite a lot.

And as he progressed and as time moved on, I did get used to this assault, his rhythm even and steady. Clearly my sphincter had adjusted and was relaxing, expanding to accommodate this large intruder. I have no idea how long it went on for, time didn’t mean anything, all I felt was the gradual acceptance of the large invader in my rear, and the sucking and vibrating on my nipples. There was no discomfort at all anymore. It still shocked me though how easily I had accepted, in more ways than one, being bumfucked. It may have been half an hour, or fifteen minutes, I don’t know. But eventually he came, thank god. He held it there for a few seconds, gripping my hips his groin pressed against my buttocks, and slowly withdrew, and my aching muscle, no longer virgin tight, resumed its rightful closed position.

Sweat was pouring down inside my two masks and suit, and I was gasping for breath through the long mouth tube. Both my breasts and my clit had now taken on a kind of numbness, but my nipples were still being teased. And then, after Mann had playfully slapped – quite hard - my buttocks, they all left me, slumped in my bonds, the cameras still rolling. All I could do was see myself in the mirror, what a bizarre sight. I tried to relax, what else could I do? My arse was sore, but gradually that receded, thank goodness.


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