Jillian's Mouse Trap 2.2: Embracing a Life Style

continued from chapter 2.1

Chapter 2: Embracing a Life Style

The exercise equipment stopped its cycle and she slumped against the chains.  She knew that after the cycle was completed those evil electric shocks were cut off.  She didn’t have long to wait as he must have been in the room.  He unhooked her from the device and took her to another part of the house.  This was different.  She became aroused in her dulled senses as he lifted her onto a soft rubber covered bed.  He still chained her feet and arms to the bed but she was in a real bed.  He didn’t remove any of the rubber appliances or toys inside her, but she was in a real bed.  He quietly pulled a heavy rubber sheet over her body and left the room.  She was in peace for the first time since… since… she had no concept of since when.

Her breathing system was connected to a receptacle in the wall near her head.  The waste plumbing was connected to another opening in the floor near the bed.  The phallus was blessedly silent.  The enemas were gone.  Only the tight rubber remained her companion.  And she slept the sleep of the dead.  She slept the sleep beyond the dead.  She slept and slept and slept.  She actually took food and water and peed and wasted in her sleep.  She slept for two full days with only minor wakening moments.  Again time was an unknown passage to her.

This time she woke to Ambrose carefully removing the ballet boots from her feet.  He was unlacing and pulling the long thigh high boots from her legs.  The pain of her feet being released was immediate.  He mumbled an apology or two that she heard through the earphones.  He began to massage her feet to restore circulation and he began to work on her ankles to restore movement in them.  It took several minutes for this massage/ankle treatment to take effect and she was thoroughly enjoying the attention this rubbery man was paying her.  His gentleness so contrasted with the evil sadism displayed by his diabolic machines to which she had been so recent subjected. 

“There we go,” he said.  “Just a few more minutes then I can put on these walking boots.”  He held up a pair of heavy black fishing waders. 

Jillian actually smiled as best she could inside her sealed masks at the sight of the “walking” boots.  She wondered what this new turn of events was about.

Ambrose was actually dressed very similarly to Jillian on this day.  The only difference was his suit was designed for the male with appropriate male attachments and his mask system allowed for nearly normal vision – discounting the tunnel effect.  The mask was currently dangling at his chest as he wasn’t finished with his own internal preparations.  His erection was “hidden” behind the outer layer of rubber.  The bulge at the zipper was very noticeable.

He pulled the fishing boots on Jillian’s legs and helped her from the bed.  He disconnected the life support tubing and led her to some sort of work shop in another part of the large house.  He sat her on a stool and took up a screw driver to pull the Plexiglas lens of the outer hood loose.  By loosening the chrome metal lock ring, he was able to pull the ring off and spread the rubber ring enough to remove the clear plastic shield.  He took up a special tool that pressed into little recesses on the multifaceted inner lenses.  He twisted the lenses and they popped loose.  Jillian could see normally for the first time since the day she was encased in her suits.  He pressed two new lens caps into place and she was again sealed from the cool air but she could see through the tunnel of rubber.  He fitted the outer hood lens in place and tightened down the lock ring again.

“There we are,” he said.  “Now you can see.”

He took up a respirator tank and harness and slipped it onto her back.  He pulled the air hoses to her mask and connected them.  She sucked in the cool compressed air from the tank.  He took a plug designed to fit into the waste opening and screwed it in place. 

“You need to do this routine maintenance in the future,” he said.

He picked up the mouth appliance from the bench.  He showed it to Jillian. 

He asked, “Do you know what this is?” 

She nodded affirmative. 

“It is the exact mold for my mouth.  Once I put it in I will not be able to talk either.  So I need to give one of those speeches now.  This suit is pretty much a male copy of your suit.  I have the same electrical stimulation devices, only mine are attached to the tip of my cock and scrotum as well as my nipples and my tongue.  I have jewelry at all of the right places.  We are, or will be, male and female bookends once I finish.  I’ll remove those paddles on your hands so we can still communicate.”

He worked at removing the thick mitts on her hands.  It took time to dissolve the original solvent and work the tight wrists over her hands but with sweating effort he got it done.  He pushed the mouth appliance into his mouth and forced the thick inner part past his teeth.  His teeth sunk into the lined recesses and he bit down to set the thing.  He pulled the harness over his head and worked at tightening the thing up. 

Jillian motioned for him to come close.  She worked on the harness to make sure it was untangled and she tightened all of the straps.  To her surprise, he picked up that slimy snake of a feeding tube and he began to self feed it through the opening in the gag.  She noticed for the first time that he had the little nose tubes in place.  Soon he was swallowing the thing with difficulty.  He got it completely inside his esophagus and snapped the outer ring to the gag.  He smoothed the black rubber between lips and teeth.  He pulled on the next rubber hood and again she helped with the straps as they tightened everything down. 

Jillian was warming to this turn of events.  She wondered how far he would go.  She wondered if he wanted the full treatment and if he did would she try to leave or would she stay and help.  She leaned toward staying slightly but wondered how long such a leaning would continue.

He handed her a pad.  It read, “This is your communication pad.”

She nodded understanding.

“We will eat the same gruel.  We will breathe the same filtered air.  We will waste the same waste.  When I pee it will flow into me as it does for you.  We will be together in our rubber suits for the near term future at least,” he wrote on his pad.

She nodded.  Inside her she leapt with joy at this revelation.  She suddenly loved this man or at least his devotion to rubber and obviously to her.

He pulled the outer suit hood in place and closed the zipper to seal in all of the under hood straps.  He wrote on the pad, “Use the cement to seal the flap at the back of the hood.  Make sure the seal is smooth and flawless.”

She nodded understanding and he stood with his back to her.  She sealed the flap in place.  He picked up the matching collar to hers and snapped it over his neck.  Now they were truly bookends.

She wrapped her arm around him in a mighty hug and he lifted her from the stool.  He pulled on a respirator tank and snapped the air hose to his mask.  He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the house.  Before she knew it they were at the door, through the door and in the heavy gray mist.  They walked hand in hand to the beach and he pointed to the raging gray surf.  They watched the rain squalls march across the open water hiding first San Juan Island then the next little island to the south.  The wind was biting cold but they were oblivious to it inside their rubbery cocoons. 

He pushed her off the back of the log and fell on her playfully.  Their squeaking rubber was accompanied by the pounding surf and the blowing wind but they heard none of that.  They only heard the blood rushing inside their bodies as he took up a remote control he had left under the log earlier for just this purpose.  He hit the button and both her phallus and his penal vibrator came to life and together they rolled in ecstasy as she suddenly and completely understood the meaning of complete surrender to her rubber man.

They walked across the island after the vibrators died and they were completely fulfilled.  He knew that she was close to being completely his but not just yet.  He wanted her to be so completely rubberized that they could eventually live 24/7 not only on the island but also in the small circle of friends who understood his passion.  The training still had some hazards.  He knew he had to keep a close eye on her.  He would always put the mitts on her when he left her alone.  He would always chain her to the bed at night.  She would occasionally have refresher sessions on the equipment.  He would teach her to enjoy the boat trip to Shaw Island and taking walks on those beaches where they would encounter non-rubbery people.  The training was just beginning but he had a fertile mind with so many ideas kicking around.  He had plans for a sensory deprivation cylinder.  He wanted to add a treadmill to the exercise regimen.  When they weren’t wearing ballet boots, they could ride bicycles.  A stationary bicycle would do wonders for the heart and stamina as long as the ballet boots were off and the hip waders on.

Ambrose waved to a passing boat.  He could make out the people on deck looking to catch the sight of an Orca.  Their glasses panned the beach and caught the rubbery apparitions in the magnified lenses.  The lookers lingered and Ambrose just waved harder.  They slowed a bit but finally chugged on as their curiosity seemed satisfied.  Ambrose was in a good mood and life seemed to have no limits.

Part of his plan included removing the bondage suits and replacing them with a more permanent and manageable arrangement.  The new suits could have cleansing fluids flushed into them.  The plumbing was similar to the bondage suit but the new suits allowed for regular food intake.  The “maintenance” suit was his name for this stage of her conditioning.  That afternoon the time came to remove Jillian’s suits.  She had been inside the sealed rubber world for over three weeks.

The maintenance suit for Jillian was sheathed in front and designed to accommodate either a vibrator or Ambrose.  Needless to say the evil wand that had broken her was set aside.  Ambrose put it away but let Jillian know the punishment wand was always near at hand.  The corset was as severe as the corset of the punishment suit in terms of waist size and the crushing effect on Jillian’s bust, though her breasts were under slightly less punishment.  She also had to continue to wear the under suit with those little needles.  For all practical purposes the maintenance suit was almost as unforgiving as the original suit.  Jillian had no mind though.  She was completed engrossed in the heavy bondage of the suit and each time she passed the wall mirror of the house, the stunning black sex goddess was in the glass. 

The complex hood and gag system was also replaced with a more conventional hood arrangement.  More conventional meant the feeding tube was removed and the bite-down gag was replaced with a more conventional hollow gag.  The gag still filled her mouth and as long as the collars were in place the over hoods kept it in place.  The new head covers were a full face hood, tucked into the inner suit and a black Warsaw Pact gas mask with attached hood.  The gas mask hood tucked into the collar of the maintenance suit and the steel posture collar was worn whenever Jillian was not eating or sleeping.  Ambrose controlled the keys to the collar as well as all keys to devices locked on the suit.

Soon the maintenance suit became such a permanent presence in Jillian’s life that she had no recollections of a time without it.  And the sex with Ambrose was incredible!  Her entire life took on sexual tension as a result of the suits and the continuous massaging of her body with every move.  The inserts in her lower regions always teased and intensified even the most routine chore.  Ambrose made certain that her filled flower was always in a state of hot carnal anticipation through judicious use of the remotely controlled vibrator locked inside whenever he wasn’t using her.  She was amazed at how quickly she became the rubber slut she so loathed only two months before.

Jillian wasn’t alone in the permanent rubber encasement.  Ambrose made certain that he had similar gear for his own use.  His inner suit had an attached sheath that had a little “foreskin” overlap at the head.  He could pull it back from the head to expose it to the world or keep it in place to remain completely sheathed.  The main difference was his participation was voluntary, something he occasionally reinforced by wearing street clothing every once in a while over just one inner layer of latex.  He still made trips to the mainland for business.  He had a company that had to be watched, if not daily at least once or twice a month.

He soon began to take Jillian on the mainland trips.  He removed the hoods from her head, exposing the bald dome that used to have hair.  He typically had her wear a flowing latex dress or skirt and a short latex jacket as more presentable outerwear.  The first time he dragged her on one of these trips she almost died.  But he booked the best suite in Seattle and made sure that their evening was full of rubbery adventures to remember after an elegant meal at the best European cuisine restaurant in town.  The looks she got as she entered the room pushed any embarrassment relating to her attire completely to the back of her mind.  She was the stunner in a room of sheep and she knew it.  Ambrose’s recognition in town never hurt her social status either.  She became the dazzling latex goddess of the city before long.  Oddly enough her new found status was reported in the social pages of the local gossip sheets.  The visits from the secluded island were rare but they became major events for reporters.  She took on the hobby of scanning all of the blogs and local news Internet sites for a few days after one of her trips with Ambrose.  The write ups were always positive and occasionally funny.

Trips to Vancouver were much less notorious.  Vancouver had an active alternative life style community and the parties and events were well attended.  The two were always the most resplendent couple in latex but they were always joined by numerous like-minded latex couples and groups.  They always used the yacht to go to Vancouver and the Canadian Immigration and Customs knew Ambrose by sight.  As for returns to the States, they motored directly home.  It may have been illegal but they never brought back anything to declare and the arrangement with the Canadian authorities kept their visits off of the official registers.

They sometimes attended fetish oriented events in Seattle.  For these Ambrose shed the street clothes and wore full latex as well.  They were always in the spotlight no matter where they went as most the Seattle scene folks saw leather vest and tight faded jeans as “fetish”.

Island life was as close to 24/7 as possible for both.  Going off the private island was often an adventure.  San Juan County was not as cosmopolitan as Seattle.  The locals tolerated the intrusion of the rubberized couple when they made shopping trips to Friday Harbor.  To placate the locals, the two usually wore diving suits (industrial grade rubber ones) over the fetish rubber and most visitors took them to be a diving couple just out of the water and in too big a hurry to change.  This was fine with the locals who felt the couple was a stain on the reputation of the community.  The hoods remained in the boat on these trips to town.
  
Not so the mail runs to Shaw.  They didn’t remove or cover anything for these little jaunts.  It was all part of the erotic adventure associated with their day.  It meant leaving their private island and hitting the box in the cove on Shaw.  They always combined the trip with a planned beach walk on the other side.  These walks frequently ended up with encounters of the human kind.  They usually saw the other people coming soon enough to slip into the nearby screen of Scotch Broom or a stand of trees.  Sometimes they waded into the water until it was over their heads.  This was always a fun option as the respirators and the sealed suit kept them safe.

When the sun was out, the suits were hot.  As summer came the days warmed steadily and Ambrose began to worry about the ability to stay outside for long periods.  The heavy black rubber absorbed the heat and the suits became saunas.  He knew they would break down chemically under the sun.  He added a thin neoprene rubber wetsuit over the outer layer to protect the latex beneath from the sun.  These suits were white in an effort to reflect the heat.  Jillian immediately dubbed her suit the Fantastic Voyage Suit!  She could easily pass for Raquel in terms of her busty chest, narrow waist and nice hips. 

These suits allowed them to lounge on the beach or even go over to Shaw and they just looked like divers on holiday unless someone got close enough to spot the hoods and masks.  Many an afternoon romp in rubber happened in these white delights.  Jillian noted that they should have a complete wardrobe of pure white to supplement the normal black.

The cycle of rubbery bliss continued in this way into October.  Ambrose was perfectly happy to live out his days in rubbery bliss.  He romped in the rubber and used the vibrator on Jillian to bring her to a razor-thin edge of anticipation then he’d pull the vibe out and slam his hot shaft deep into her sheathed delight.  Jillian’s rubberized form against him in squeaky harmony and the rubbing transmitted soft motion to the hot rod pistoning inside her.  Sometimes he’d pull out and push his shaft into her gagged mouth after exposing the head to shoot his load down her throat.  The first time he forced her to take him she almost choked but soon she came to take on the roll of slut easily but she never truly enjoyed him using her this way.  Her isolation and protection in rubber had become so engrained that the intrusion of his foreign semen was repulsive.  She knew not to show her disgust but to act the roll of a living rubber thing as she waited for the opportunity to turn the tables on him. 

She actually enjoyed the romps that ended with him shooting into her rubber-lined love canal.  Sated by the sexual excitement, she would drift off into reverie and wonder at what the wind would feel like.  She wondered if her hair was growing beneath the skull pieces.  She doubted it as the apparent dilapidation process was very thorough.

For Jillian, this outer bliss was hiding a tumult of inner emotion.  She was physically contented but her dementia for rubber was beyond any imaginable belief.  She wanted to live in rubber as much as possible but she began to want rubber on her terms.  She surfed the Internet and was completely aware of the dominant lifestyle.  The idea of controlling a slave to her ends was slowly growing inside her mind.  She saw Ambrose as an improbable candidate for this plan as he was her Master.

One day she had a vision of a monument to pay homage to Ambrose and his inspiration.  Her vision was a living monument.  She saw the potential ease of success in her idea with a little pre-planning.

The total enclosure experience for the two had now reached five months.  In that time they had flushed the inner suits weekly to purge any lingering bad things with an antiseptic wash.  Flushing was an erotic event of its own.  Ambrose would fit a tube under to the heel of the suit.  He had included a small flush plug at the point for the process.  Once he opened the plug, he had access to the plug of the suit beneath to the skin.  The flushing tube was connected and the solution pushed into the suits.  The suits would fill and a thin layer of the cleaning solution spread throughout and beneath the suit.  The slick fluid allowed the suits to move on the skin quite easily.  Dropping into a tub of slightly soapy water cleansed the outer layers and allowed for an easy doze.  The process took an hour to complete and then the suits were closed up until the next time.  The stuff that came out of the suits was pretty smelly stuff which left Jillian wondering just how this life was impacting her body but she didn’t care about that any more.  She was determined to reach the next level and evolve into a rubber dominant.  That next level had to be done alone.  She had to get Ambrose tucked away and out of the picture permanently.

Over the months her desire to be a rubber dominatrix grew and her old feelings of returning to the normal life waned.  Once she looked at the people in wool and flannel with a pang of loss.  Now she saw them as drab people with no adventure in life.  She had truly been converted to a rubber life.  She just wasn’t at the end of her journey.

Ambrose saw Jillian differently.  She was now the perfect and obedient rubber toy/thing he always yearned to own.  She let him use her in any way.  She let him put her into severe rubber bondage.  He paraded her much like a prize whenever they traveled to the city and the fetish circles.  She hid her true feeling of non-fulfillment easily and waited for her chance.

In preparation she researched her future lifestyle.  She noted the differences in responsibility that came with domination.  As the subservient, she had responsibility to please and obey her master, but as a dominant she had the responsibility to keep her subbie secure and content while the subbie served and obeyed.  The subtle difference allowed her to understand how subs could graduate to domination and why some dominants tired of responsibility retreated into servitude.  Ambrose didn’t seem to be one ready to give up his position.  He was a man of power in industry and he mirrored that need for power in his private life.

 

10.07.09