Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Visiting my Rubber Mistresses

by Rb6009

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© Copyright 2013 - Rb6009 - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; D/s; latex; catsuit; hood; bond; x-frame; bdsm; crop; whip; bodybag; cbt; wax; strapon; tease; torment; femdom; ws; denial; mast; climax; true; cons; XX

Visiting my Rubber Mistresses – Lady Sandra

I stayed where I was, naked apart from a thick black rubber hood, my arse throbbing with pain from the extended whipping I’d received. I didn’t have much choice in the matter, since I was strapped down at wrist, waist, knee and ankle, and splayed over a narrow, uncomfortable vaulting horse. At least the pain was subsiding, since my Mistress appeared to be taking a break. But then there was a flash of light: she was recording my humiliation for posterity! I cringed in embarrassment as I glanced in the mirror and realised what the picture would reveal – a naked, hooded slave at the mercy of his rubber-clad Mistress, with the tools of her trade lining the walls of her chamber.

Putting the camera to one side, Lady Sandra picked up the rubber whip again and trailed it over my back and down to my balls before flicking my raging hard-on with the tip of the rubber strands. As she stepped back to position herself properly for a renewed assault on my naked buttocks, I found myself thinking just how I came to find myself in this position, receiving corporal punishment for the first time from my favourite Mistress … …

I’d arrived promptly at eleven for a three hour appointment, already dressed as usual in my thick black rubber catsuit, which was by now pretty damp from the perspiration that had oozed freely from my pores during the two-hour journey to Bristol. And the feeling of rubber wetness had not subsided while I sat next to Lady Sandra on her bed and sketched out the way in which I wanted the session to develop – essentially rubber bondage, CBT, CP (I was curious to know what Lady Sandra’s prowess was here) and, most definitely, another encounter with her strap-on dildo!

The prologue over, I was ordered to strip off my street clothes and stand, hands crossed behind my back, while she inspected her rubber catsuited slave, circling me like a predator with its prey. Without warning she picked up a thick black rubber hood and forced it down over my head, smoothing it into position over my face, the eye, nose and moth holes correctly aligned. I watched warily as she strutted in front of me, smiling as she caressed the rubber covering my chest, then dipped down briefly to heft my cock and balls in one hand.

I knew what was coming next. I was ordered over to the St Andrews Cross and quickly chained to it, my legs apart and my hands above my head. Ropes followed, tightly biting into my rubber-clad body and emphasizing my sudden helplessness.

“Now you must be blindfolded while I change into my rubber!” Lady Sandra announced, fitting a tight black blindfold and cutting out my sight completely. I stood in my bonds, sweat trickling down inside my rubber catsuit, trailing down inside the latex legs and pooling beneath my feet. I could hear the thrilling sounds of rubber smacking against flesh, then press studs being fastened, and finally the slithering of more rubber as (I guessed) she eased it up her long legs.

Then the blindfold was off and I gasped, my cock throbbing inside its rubber prison as I looked at my Mistress, now clad in a short black rubber skirt and matching black rubber corset, the thick rubber shimmering in the subdued light. The rubber corset ended below her ample breasts, which were proudly naked and thrust upwards by the rubber below them. I licked my lips, remembering the time that I’d sucked those breasts …

Lady Sandra walked over to stand in front of me, opening the nipple zips on my catsuit and reaching through the slits in the rubber to twist and tweak my sensitive nubs. I whimpered pitifully, already a cowering slave despite the fact that this was just the beginning of my torment. Lady Sandra smiled cruelly, grasping my nipples and tugging more firmly, noting with satisfaction my stricken expression. Then she closed the zips again, tracing her nails across my chest and thighs, the rubber squeaking and protesting as she moved her fingers. She grazed her nails lightly over my cock, which twitched in response against the thick black rubber.

Then, inevitably, my Mistress dropped to her haunches and tugged open the crotch zip, easing my cock and balls out of my rubber catsuit. My cock was already semi-erect and she murmured “Disgusting organ!”, looking at it with distaste. She picked up some thin cord and quickly tied it around my balls, pulling it tight and eliciting a gasp of surprise and pain from her tethered slave, then wrapped the cord around the base of my pulsating shaft and again tied it tightly, drawing the cord round for a second time and then fastening it off, my cock now held in her grip and pointing upwards, its inner surface lightly touching the rubber of my catsuit. Then she let it go and I looked down as my cock bobbed about, its head turning an angry purple colour in response to the tight constriction.

Not satisfied, Lady Sandra reappeared with a cock sheath and forced it up my shaft, then fixed a parachute to my balls. “Your balls must be stretched!” she said, nonchalantly fixing a weight to the contraption, and then hanging a second weight on for extra effect. And the effect was instantaneous – my balls stretched out below me, I felt the wrenching and pulling as the weights swung, and sharp bursts of agony spread along my tormented cock shaft. I begged my Mistress with my eyes for release, but she ignored me for some minutes, leaving me suffering in rubber on the cross.

At last Lady Sandra relented, removing the weights and than expertly releasing me from the ropes and chains that had held me immobile against the cross. “Take off your catsuit!” she ordered, pointing to the bathroom. I hesitated momentarily, surprised that my session wasn’t going to be entirely in rubber, but then quickly complied, stripping off the catsuit and then inverting it to drain the sweat from inside the suit. Straightening it out, I left the thick rubber garment in the bath, hoping that it would not be too long before I felt the thick, damp latex caressing my body again!

Returning to Lady Sandra’s chamber, I saw that my Mistress had moved the vaulting horse out into the room, facing one of the wall mirrors. I was ordered to drape myself across it, my head, still in its thick rubber hood, against one end of the narrow top, and my cock and balls trapped against the other. My knees were bent as she chained me at wrist, waist, knee and ankle to the horse, so that I was spread across the horse in an ungainly fashion, but one which left my naked buttocks spread and available for punishment.

I glanced in the mirror and saw Lady Sandra collecting various implements to torture me with, then tensed as she laid the first of them on my exposed rear. “It’s a pity I can’t mark you too severely” she murmured, then drew back and slashed down with the tawse, striping my left buttock and causing me to flinch at the sudden pain. The process was repeated on my right buttock, and as I groaned in renewed agony I looked into the mirror and saw Lady Sandra, still in her rubber corset and skirt, breasts swinging as she took fresh aim and repeatedly rained down blows on my defenseless buttocks.

Finally my Mistress laid down the tawse, but any hopes of a reprieve were dashed as she picked up another weapon.

“Now the rubber whip!” she said, walking round in front of me and showing me the whip, a series of fine strands of black rubber trailing down from her hand. She ran it over my hooded face, pausing to let me kiss the whip as I reached forward, drinking in the sight of her black rubber skirt only a couple of inches in front of me.

“Please may you take some photos?” I muttered.

“Of course!” she said, walking round to pick up the camera and aiming it at my backside, which was already red from the effect of the tawse.

Next the rubber whip was aimed purposefully at my backside, alternate strokes slashing against my left and right cheeks. I muttered thanks while at the same time groaning in pain and humiliation, wondering how many strokes Lady Sandra intended to land on me. There seemed no particular number in mind; as I glanced up again at the image of my beautiful rubber-clad Mistress in the mirror, she was pinching her nipples as she laid into me with the rubber whip, a faraway look on her face.

Then at last there was relief as Mistress laid down the rubber whip and left me sobbing in pain, hooded but otherwise nakedly available. There was another flash of light as she took what became my favourite photograph …

… and then I was rudely brought back to the present when Lady Sandra began to use the third and final implement on me – another braided whip, but this time made of leather. Slowly increasing the force of her strokes, Mistress worked in a steady rhythm to destroy the last of my self-esteem and leave me whimpering and humiliated, a broken slave.

“Six more strokes!” she announced.

I counted them as she laid into me, the final stroke of the leather whip on each buttock a particularly savage blow.

At last it was over! “Thank you Mistress!” I spluttered as she laid down the whip and began to release me. She looked at me, smiling enigmatically, no doubt trying to understand what could drive a man to debase himself like that.

Next it was time for my session in the rubber body bag, and I followed her eagerly to the bed and sat down on the edge, helping her to guide my feet into the innermost depths of the thick black rubber. Then I stood as she drew the bondage bag over me, tugging hard on the thick unyielding latex, her naked, voluptuous breasts swaying in front of me as she struggled to enclose me. Finally the thick rubber was draped over my shoulders and she drew up the back zip, then ordered me to lie in the middle of the bed while she roped me securely, pulling the thick rubber tightly across my chest and thighs.

Once I was helpless Lady Sandra added the finishing touches, pulling a blindfold over my head and settling it in place, and then placing earmuffs over my ears, so that all I could hear were faint sounds of movement. I was completely disorientated, slipping into an inner world, though I jerked helplessly in my bonds as I felt my Mistress grasp my cock roughly and begin the process of connecting it to the mains. Sure enough, a surge of power brought new torture as the current jolted my shaft and left me gasping in new pain.

With that Lady Sandra lay beside me, stroking my rubber-cocooned body and partially removing the earmuffs, telling me that she would be back to check on me in half an hour. Faintly I heard her footsteps as she walked across the room; then the door closed and I was alone. I lay quietly in my rubber prison, flexing my legs, shifting on my torso and feeling only the damply constrictive latex. I could move only fractions of an inch; I tested my bonds and quickly recognized that they were secure. I tried to move my hands, imprisoned in the arm sheaths inside the rubber body bag, and found that they were trapped. I lay back, luxuriating in my rubber-bound helplessness.

Suddenly I tensed as the cock torture began again – a series of pulses, almost like sharp taps on my erect, throbbing shaft, then a curious massaging motion which for a moment I thought signalled Lady Sandra’s return: it was hard to believe that the machine alone was simulating a steady masturbation of my lengthening prick.

I endured the rubber bondage and occasional burst of electrically-induced cock torture for an indeterminate period, then suddenly cried out as a rope crashed down onto my defenseless rubber-clad chest. My Mistress had returned soundlessly, and now laughed harshly as she beat me again before sitting beside me on the bed and grasping my tool, massaging it to full erection not for my benefit but to ensure that the effect of her turning up the current was maximized. I moaned as another series of sharp stabbing pulses assailed my cock, and then sagged in relief as the pain subsided.

Once again I was left to stew, fully enclosed in rubber, the heat increasing and with it my perspiration, which began trickling down to puddle under my body. I tried to keep my circulation going, repeatedly squirming in the tightly constrictive thick latex body bag and enjoying the feel, smell and even taste of rubber as I sweated inside the thick black hood. From time to time my cock was assaulted afresh by the electrics, a series of throbbing, massaging movements and sharp slaps keeping my shaft sore but erect. And then the rope crashed down on my chest again, smacking noisily against the rubber and causing me to yelp pathetically.

My Mistress proceeded to untie me and then ordered me to stand by the side of the bed while she supported me and unzipped the body bag; then I lay back on the bed as she pulled it off my legs and feet. I sat passively on the bed, naked apart from the damp black latex hood, as she inverted the body bag and placed it over a cage in the corner of the room, to dry out for its next occupant. Then she turned and walked back over to me.

“Do you know what time it is?” she asked, teasingly – and pausing for effect – “ … it’s strap-on time!” I shuddered; I wanted this so much, yet knew the experience would be both degrading and painful.

My humiliation increased when Lady Sandra thrust the strap-on towards me, telling me to hold it while she got ready to slip it on. Gingerly I held it by the firm black dildo, the straps hanging down, while she stripped off the black rubber skirt. Taking it from me, my Mistress stepped into the harness and drew it up, then taunted me, the fake phallus pointing straight at my face while I sat, humiliated and nervous.

Once again I found myself splayed awkwardly over the vaulting horse, strapped down and roped, shivering in anticipation as Lady Sandra took her time, building the tension. I jerked forward as I felt her latex-gloved finger at the entrance to my asshole, then groaned as, assisted by a generous amount of lubrication, it slid easily into my rectum. Lady Sandra held it in there, enjoying my embarrassment, then began to slide it up and down my rear channel, easing the way for larger things to come. Soon a second finger had joined the first, and I began to sweat inside the rubber hood as the pain and degradation intensified.

Worse was, of course, to come. Withdrawing her fingers, my Mistress replaced them with a bulbous dildo, gradually working it in until I felt her hand at the butt end of the dildo right next to my buttocks. Without ceremony the dildo was replaced with her strap-on, the black rubber phallus making slow progress at first but then beginning its journey along my rectal channel. I grunted in pain and renewed shame as my arse was reamed by a fake prick; I looked in the mirror and saw my Mistress frowning in concentration as she jerked her hips, sending the black rubber cock still further into my anal depths.

“Are you enjoying this, slave?” she spat out “Is this what you need – your Mistress anally fucking you with her rubber prick?”

I groaned, too ashamed even to try to reply.

My asshole began to get used to the rubber invader and suddenly I found myself pushing back, trying to get more cock into my rectum. I sensed that Lady Sandra was surprised too – I heard her murmur “Good!” and then jerk forward again to bury still more of the fake phallus inside me. Her hips were brushing against me now, and finally she stopped, the black rubber cock fully implanted in my rear channel. She began moving again, giving me a few final deep strokes before she slowly withdrew, bringing the sustained bout of assfucking to a close.

I cringed as she wiped my arse, then came round to stand by my head, the strap-on still in place and now bobbing up and down in front of my face.

“You did well, slave” she said. “But now it’s time for your shower – a golden shower!” Once again I shuddered, sinking still lower into a pit of degradation.

She unstrapped me and led me into the bathroom. I knew the drill from my previous experience and, once she had pulled the rubber hood off my face, I crawled into the shower, sitting on my haunches as she stripped off the strap-on and her rubber corset and climbed nakedly into the shower, positioning herself above me. “Are you thirsty?!” she asked, and I nodded. I felt her tense then relax, then she simply said “Here it comes!” and released a jet of acrid, hot urine which struck me on the face and mouth. I spluttered, drinking down some of her hot yellowish piss and feeling much more cascading over my face and running down my chest. As the flow eased I became bolder and placed my mouth below her cunt; my reward was a view of her full red cunt lips framed by a sparse pubic bush, together with a further stream of urine which I gulped down and spluttered back up.

Eventually the stream stopped and Lady Sandra picked up the shower nozzle, rinsing herself and then her slave, insisting that I drink down and spit out the shower water to cleanse my mouth. Then I was ordered out of the shower and told to put my rubber catsuit back on and join her in her chamber; eagerly I drew the damp, cloying rubber over my body, drew the zip closed and hurried back to stand beside the bed.

Within seconds I was spread-eagled on the bed and Lady Sandra was attaching my wrists and ankles to cuffs at each corner. My turgid cock stiffened in anticipation of a reward, but my hopes were dashed: “You must suffer more!”

My Mistress picked up one of the instruments of torture I had come to fear most – a pinwheel with rows of tiny, sharp teeth. She began to wheel it slowly and carefully around my balls, increasing the pressure and smirking as my discomfort increased. Then she transferred her attention to my shaft, raking it up and down. I found it impossible to resist craning my neck and watching as she tortured my cock – she saw this and laughed delightedly, turning her attention to my purplish cockhead and saying “Is it painful?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

She repeated the process several times, starting with my balls and then dragging the tines up my shaft and across the defenseless knob end. And when she put the pinwheel aside, it was only to humiliate me further: “One of your testicles has disappeared!” I was beginning to think I could sink no lower, lying bound in rubber while a dominatrix pushed down on my balls to force the testicle back out. She laughed throatily, enjoying my embarrassment. “We wouldn’t want it to escape its punishment!”

I had hoped that the torment was at an end, but again I was cruelly disappointed. Now Lady Sandra walked out of the room, quickly reappearing with a lighted candle. I jerked against my bonds, acutely aware of the agony that was in store, but I was helplessly trapped by a smiling sadist. She set the candle down, sat on the bed close to my cock and balls, then tilted the candle. There was a second’s delay and then I yelled out, squirming ineffectually in an attempt to escape as the pain exploded around my balls. Several times the process was repeated, each area of my testicles treated to a cascade of hot wax; then, worse still, my Mistress turned her attention to my cock shaft, holding it still and pouring hot wax at intervals along my battered member. I wondered how much of this I could take, feeling a sense almost of relief as the final splash of hot wax landed on my sorely abused cockhead; the pain was incredible but at least my genitals were wholly covered.

With that my Mistress wiped off the cooling wax. “You’ve done well!” she said, “so you deserve a reward!” My cock, still hard despite the abuses heaped on it, throbbed and jerked and I almost came as I felt the thin latex condom being stretched over the shaft. Lady Sandra began to masturbate me, her hand sliding easily up and down my length. “Do you like it slow or fast?” she asked. I could hardly believe that I was being asked to choose, but somehow muttered “Slow, please, Mistress”.

The cum was boiling in my balls and as Lady Sandra expertly stroked my cock I tensed and arched my back, feeling the semen jetting into the condom and rolling back to pool on my cockhead. I felt my Mistress gently teasing out the cum, working her hand up and down until I sagged back, utterly spent. To my surprise Lady Sandra lay down beside me, caressing the rubber catsuit as I lay exhausted in my bonds. We talked for a few minutes about her clients, about my preferences and needs and then, still unhurried, she untied me and let me cover the catsuit with my street clothes, kissed me on the lips and showed me to the door. I strolled back to my car, still encased in rubber and already reliving the experiences of a remarkable three hours.

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