Jillian's Mouse Trap 2.1: The Training Continues

continued from Jillian's Mousetrap part 3

Chapter 1: The Training Continues

Master Ambrose, with chilling efficiency, silently laid Jillian (Rubbery Thing) to the floor.  He set her right inside the center of the rubber bondage bag.  He made sure all of the connection and life sustaining umbilical cords were straight and operating.  He slid each mitt-appended arm into internal sleeves.  He closed the heavy rubber sack around his prisoner, sealing her rubberized body in even tighter rubber.  He attached hoist chains to rings on the bag, lifted Rubbery Thing and swung her over to a thinly padded platform.  He lowered her onto the “bed”.  Then he immobilized the sack with tie down straps through the multiple rings along its circumference.

“Sleep tight, my Rubbery Thing,” he said leaning over the masked head that protruded from the tight bag collar ring.  He pecked the snout of his rubberized victim.  A slow tear filled the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek.  He pulled an additional rubber sheet over his rubber-entombed slave.  He tapped a few keystrokes at the terminal and hit the “enter” key.

The next cycle of her training began…

“Sleep tight, my Rubbery Thing.”

Inside her hot rubber bag, Jillian stewed in her juices.  Her mind ran rapidly through the events and she always found the same ending… here inside this rubber bag.  It was like Ambrose had made all of the moves of a chess master pursuing a hapless opponent.  Each logical move pushed the opponent to one option until completely cornered.

Well, it was hot inside this bag but she was tired beyond belief.  She tried to get some sort of sleep inside the uncomfortably tight and sealed tomb.  The system had other ideas.

Her belly suddenly filled with hot… excruciating hot fluid.  This sudden intrusion was accompanied by the obvious onset of some sort of feeding cycle that pumped stuff into her stomach.  She soon was bloated to the extreme inside her tight and confining suit.  The stuff in her abdomen flushed out to be replaced with icy cold fluid.  This shock was almost too much.  She cramped hard and peed into the tubing.  Of course the pee added that small amount to the mix inside her.  She shook in her bonds as the feeding cycle seemed to stop.  She wanted to regurgitate the stuff in her stomach as she was too full and her hard distended stomach was compressed by the suit and pushed hard against her diaphragm. 

Her labored breathing would have been impossible were it not for the forced flow from the umbilical system.  She literally had her diaphragm pushed against the distended stomach with each breath pushed into her airway.  The fluid locked into her lower abdomen prevented any relief from the filled stomach.  Despite the stomach attempts to let the stuff out, there was no place for it to go!  She was in an internal metabolic gridlock and the heavy cramping emphasized her predicament!

The one-way valves inside the feeding tube prevented any regurgitation for relief.  The pressing enema blocked movement out.  She was suffering inside the hot cocoon a horribly incredible suffering.  The near exquisite balance of torture was totally lost on her depraved mind. 

After ten minutes, the computer released the enema fluids to the drain and the immediate relief was erotically charged.  The sudden release of the cramping fluids let loose a myriad of internal emotions within the rubber encased and sealed girl.  She felt the stuff in her stomach release and the pressure on her diaphragm relented.  The enema cycle started again!  This time her abdomen was filled to capacity and seemingly beyond.  Her breathing was fast and shallow but not from the pressure on her lungs.  This time it was the pressing arousal against her intimate womb that was still stuffed with the evil wand. 

Unknown to her, the wand squirted a lubricating mixture into her private sanctum and then the buzzing began.  The thing buzzed and massaged and sent electrical shocks into her various piercings.  The slowly building burning of her nipples signaled the electrical contacts were actively stimulating her on those sensitive points.  She squirmed within her rubber confinement as the mechanical raping progressed step by step from one plateau of pain/pleasure to the next.

The vibrating increased in strength and the fluid was now flushing in and out of her distending belly and placing unforgiving pressure then releasing the pressure in rapid intervals.  The sensation was actually very arousing as Jillian surrendered to this new attack and let the waves of passion pulse through her masochistically fine tuned being.  She felt the crescendo of the symphony inside her.  She almost saw the waves of the enema flush pulsing in and out of her body as a running tide through a narrow bottle-neck harbor entrance.  The running tide carried with it all of her remaining will to resist and she completely gave into the power of the punishing rubber. 

She exploded in a rapturous tumult of conflicting emotion.  The symphony was a cacophony of out of harmony noise.  The orchestra was out of tune, out of sync, completely ignoring the director and running amuck in its own discord; her body was that orchestra completely obliterating any possible identification of organized response to the shear lust of the moment beyond basic animal power.  The explosive orgasm rolled on and on.  It reached a plateau then climbed a new peak to a new level of exquisitely terrible pain then she reached a pinnacle vista beyond belief as her mind surveyed a bright white hot horizon of exploding stars!  The ripping explosion almost tore her apart!  The tight bonds were the only reason she didn’t scissor into a convulsing maniacal animal of frenzied rapture!  The mind was completely gone at this moment! 

She plunged into a Marianas Trench depth of licentious craving.  She was crushed by the intensity of the ripping, rolling, pulsing and almost unending tsunami from within her pain-racked body.  Her mind twisted into unthinking levels of insanity as she writhed beneath the heavy layers of rubber.  The violent eruption of emotion subsided and the empty gulf demanded filling.  Her craving mind shouted for MORE!  She was panting inside the rubber tomb and waiting in full anticipation for more of the wanton naked lust newly found through the molten hot slag in her burning furnace of desire. 

The mixture of emotion welling inside her was beyond any recognition as she leapt with joy to the moment and fell away in fear that the moment would end then the torture would return to arouse her to another high explosion of carnal lust for the masochism she now needed with such urgency!

These cycles repeated for some unknown period of time.  Jillian was carried to explosion after explosion, firmly cementing her Pavlov conditioning for torturous rubber submission.  As for sleep, Jillian got none.

Ambrose was loosening the straps of the bag and releasing his prisoner from the “bed”.  She didn’t know it but the cycle of torture/lust had been eight hours long.  She peered through her faceted lenses and saw the multiple images of Ambrose in one of his heavy rubber protective suits.  She couldn’t tell exactly which it was but she could tell he was completely encased in the loose garment, probably with something skin tight beneath, and his head was covered with a respirator hood and attached air supply.

“I trust you enjoyed your rest,” he said and she heard in her earphones.   “I’m about to take a nice walk on the beach.  It is quite wet and gray out there this morning.  While I am out getting some exercise, it is only fitting that you also get some.  So I will hook you up to the training steps I have just for you and you can enjoy a nice, exhilarating workout while I take my stroll.”

These words were almost a complete thespian monologue act for Ambrose when compared to the previous short words spoken since his explanation of the situation at the beginning of the training.  Jillian’s conditioning began.

He walked /carried the weakened and exhausted Jillian to the step machine.  It was a modified stair master.  The steps would move up and down through a range of about four inches, no difficult task to accomplish except when clothed in multiple layers of tight and heavy rubber.  The devise had steel tubing extending above the section where the user stands.  There were several chains hanging from the tubing.  The hand grips and foot pads had heavy straps for securing the victim.

Ambrose made short order of getting Jillian locked to the machine.  He stood her behind the step pads and lifted each ballet boot sheathed leg into the wide metal collar designed to hold the extreme tip-toe booted feet.  He cinched down the locking devices securing the feet on the platform.  He then hooked her wrists to the hand grips since her useless paddles of hands could not grip the things.  He pulled chains from the top rails and attached them to her shoulder rings and her waist.

“There we are, nice and secure.  Don’t sag too much in those bonds.  The electrical punishment system won’t like you resting during the exercise cycle.”

He pushed the program start and watched in satisfaction as the steps began to pump her legs up and down.  The beast inside her eternal flower was now pulsing in and out and from side to side as she stepped.  The extra lubrication eased the movement and she was soon feeling the pleasure build as the thing first rammed at her “G” spot then rubbed at her clit before ramming inside her again.  Then the buzzing began and the trip was truly on.

Ambrose watched his prisoner for a few minutes more then went for his walk, secure in knowing she would have many forced orgasms while he was out.  He stroked his sheathed cock lightly at the thought and shivered in the deep desire to try her journey into heavy rubber deprivation some day.  Perhaps when she was completely subdued and his loyal servant he could trust her to work him through these games… maybe.

Jillian now had urgent problems.  The building release from the buzzing phallus was now being augmented by the buzzing at her rear.  She thought that second buzzing meant a reprieve from the enema treatments but alas, the fluid flowed into her belly and the sudden bloated pressure against her inner realms was punishing her as she stepped to the machine.  The electrical shocks began to probe her sensitive areas and she was sweating profusely inside her rubber world.

Her eye pieces soon fogged up and even the weird insect vision was all a fog.  She stepped to the machine and forced her concentration on maintaining a balance and not sagging in the chains.  The pulsing device at her crotch gave no respite and she was soon panting hard even with the oxygen-rich air supply.  She shook from the very core of her inner sanctum as the first explosion rolled out from her flower.  She went weak kneed and the hard electrical shock jumped her to proper position as she cramped and ached in her pain/rapture cycle.

The exercise continued and the merciless attacks on her pleasure pain centers unrelenting.  She was truly being transformed into a completely controlled rubber masochist.  She could not focus any part of her mind on the before time!  She was losing her touch to reality in the normal sense as this situation was now reality and her life.  She fretted at her total surrender to the lust in her rubber prison.  She was NOT a rubberist, she declared to herself but the evidence mounting was contrary to this thought.  Her mind wrestled with this idea for mere seconds before plunging again into the rubber carnal reality of the conditioning.  She was rising to another forced explosion of demonic rubber lust and her resisting thoughts again were lost to a shadow corner of her mind.

She never had a strong faith through organized religion.  She always believed there was some higher being out there who put sense into the world but to her growing consternation the current situation made no sense in the orderly world she once knew.  She was in the contrived world of a madman and that thought helped to pull focus to her waning resistance but another surging explosion shattered that thought almost before it was born. 

A madman with a lust for heavy rubber was a wonderfully new world in her thoughts now.  The idea of worshipping his feet seemed an incredibly real and possible desire.  The pleasure – albeit forced – she had endured was beyond any base sexual pleasure she had previously enjoyed.  The punishment went far beyond enjoyment; it reached the higher plateau of demanding continuous worship to an altar of obeisant servitude in rubber. 

She was falling for the fellow again and this time for his passion and fetish for rubber!  She revolted from this new and unwanted thought.  Maybe she was being wound tightly into a rubber cocoon with no escape but she wasn’t falling for him as person.  She was turning to being a full-fledged and initiated rubber fanatic and Ambrose was only the window to her new found lust.  She unabashedly wanted to feel the heavy fullness of the enemas cycles!  She wanted the complete dependence the suit forced on her very being.  Now that she was completely enmeshed in the sealed lust of her predicament she wanted it more than anything else in the whole world!  She surrendered on the stair master as her rubberized master walked the beach.  Her doubts were flung to the winds.  Her doubts fled her very soul and heart, yet they were still there in some basic form.

Some time later, Ambrose returned, still encased in his rubber gear.  He shut off the system and Jillian slumped against the restraints.  The sudden impact of this respite allowed the doubts to rush into her mind unabated!  What on earth could she be thinking!  The whole idea of this torture was unimaginable, unthinkable and totally demented!  This was not Jillian!  In this moment of minor rest between sessions reality touched once again on her psyche. 

Ambrose hoisted/helped her from the stair climber.  She realized that her sanity was close to gone but she held onto a thin thread of it by the bare skin of her teeth.  She only had to remember this moment of nothingness in the suits to remember reality and the trap she was enduring.  The moment lasted way too short as she soon found herself strung up between the ceiling and the floor in that taught torture cycle she initially endured.  Ambrose watched as the system took command of his prisoner again.  He had sensed the resistance during that lull as he moved her to the device.  That resistance had to be completely broken before she was ready for the next phase of her transformation.  He watched the thing begin to work its magic on her and she was soon pulling hard at the taught chains in the first lustful explosion.  He rubbed his own manhood hard and the thick stiff thing blew a load into his sheathed protection and he knew the plan had to succeed.

Jillian’s short contact with reality was lost again as she was driven deeply into the rubber passion cycle she now desired.  Let it never end.  The driven cycle in suspension carried her away to that lost masochistic world she now craved.  She groveled in the gutter of depravity.  She wanted the unending cycle to end then not then end again.  She shook in her bonds as the horrid/wonderful/joyous/rapturous/revolting/vile/beastly rape carried her body to the unknown heights of complete and utter wanton gratification!

She passed out from the assault and woke some time later to the reawakening of the cycle.  The variations on the pain theme were limitless.  Would she endure hot/cold enema?  Would her sensitive parts be electrically shocked or brought to tingling awareness?  Would those plugs vibrate and rake her tender inner regions?  Would it combine with the tongue shocks or the new suction on her tender nipples trapped inside those hideous little needle rings?  The cycle continued its unrelenting attack. 

Ambrose checked on her three times a day to make sure that everything was as it should be.  He’d check the monitors of her vital signs and note the number of orgasms achieved.  He’d wait for her to cycle into the next erotic explosion and relieve his own tension.  This masturbation seemed as mechanical as the rape he viewed.  He wanted the return of intimacy linked in rubber that his program was intended to achieve.  The impersonal and impassionate observations would, he hoped, become mutual, consenting and supportive games of passion.  For now he puttered around the house and checked on his Rubber Thing regularly.  He made sure the feeding system was doing its work.  He made sure the waste system functioned.  He made sure his charge was not enduring any unknown stress (other than the expected) that might threaten her life.  He took his walks.  He pondered the gray surf and sky from his favorite drift log.  He waved to passing boats, knowing that he was too distant to discern the heavy rubber covering his body as anything but sane protection from the frequent rain squalls.

The days extended to a week then two weeks and he carefully moved his charge from the suspension to the bed to the stair climber.  He felt the slight resistance in her body each time he moved her.  She wasn’t completely broken… yet, he thought each time he moved her.  Her obvious weakness in body was quite apparent each move.  Her physical exhaustion had to be at the breaking point.  Yet there still seemed stiffness in her back whenever he moved her.  How long could she maintain her unraveling grip on any reality but the heavy rubber enclosure?  He realized how amazing she truly was at each passing day.  His love for her sprung anew and grew as he watched her slowly dissolving resistance.  He began to have second thoughts about the complete breaking of this Philly but those thoughts had to remain still born for the better order of the future.

It was too late in reality for Ambrose or Jillian to have any sort of loving relationship in rubber.  The system worked to perfection.  It worked beyond any expectation.  The reality was the system was turning Jillian into either a totally dependent rubber slave with a complete desire for only rubber or a rubberized being looking to dominate other rubberized beings.  In short, her choices were quickly being narrowed to rubber slavery and total dependence on the material or perhaps a further step into the life of rubber domination.  The chances of her being a rubber partner to Ambrose were almost completely gone. 

It was some time during the third week that all resistance ceased and her surrender to slavery in rubber was complete.  He was moving her from the bed to the stairs and she moved easily with his touch.  She stood complacently at the device.  In fact she even lifted her legs into the locking steel bands.  She put her hands to the rail without any help and dutifully waited for him to finish locking them in place.  He realized she was broken and that she had become completely one with her rubber masochistic world.

He switched the system on and saw her working diligently toward her first orgasmic release.  She must have been so numb from the training that the release couldn’t have any true sexual meaning.  She took her training in stride and pumped the stairs up and down.

He left the room to prepare for the next phase.

 

10.07.09