Adventures in Rubber

                                  by

                              Dr. Hevea

  

                            - Chapter 1 -



     Jason was getting frustrated.  The embroidered jacket was chafing, the

bar scotch he'd ordered was watery, and he was sweating in the rubber

pants.  What the hell he thought, I may as well enjoy my drinking, if I

can't enjoy the bloody party.  He poured his drink into an abandoned

margarita, and caught the bartender's eye.  "Double shot of Macallan,

neat," he ordered.  The bartender, a bored-looking gorilla in a nun's

habit, said, "Top shelf is four bucks a shot," waited for his reaction, and

when he said nothing, turned to pour.



     Jason had come to the Halloween party alone, as a last resort,

knowing full well he would most likely remain alone.  He looked around the

party, noting the many couples that had formed since the masquerade dance

had begun.  It looked like yet another lonely night out of years of lonely

nights.



     Earlier, things had looked promising as several attractive women had

shown interest in his flashy costume.  But right on cue, his insecurity had

caused him to stammer, to blurt meaningless and silly things, and one by

one, they had disappeared into the crowd, only to be glimpsed later hanging

on the arm of another, apparently more confident man, or in some cases,

woman.  It was hard to tell, with some of the costumes.



     Shit, why couldn't I have been born gay, he thought.  At least, there

seem to be a lot more men here than women with a fetishistic bent.



     His hopes rose again when a young woman in an outrageous blonde wig

and 1920's flapper dress walked up to him with two glasses of champaign.

She looked like a gangster's moll from a movie.



     "Hoy they-uh," she said.  He grinned.  She even had the accent down

pat.



     "Hey, baby doll," he said in his best imitation of Al Capone.



     She frowned slightly then brightened.  "Oi loik ya cawstume, where'd

ja foind it?"



     Once again, he tried to concentrate on what he would say.  She was a

knockout, he just _had_ to get it right this time.  For the seventeenth

time tonight, he heard a friends advice in his mind.  "Just be yourself.

People can sense when you're putting on an act."  He tried to relax.  He

dropped the "gangster" accent and smiled in what he hoped was a winning

manner.  "Well, I rented the jacket, hat and shoes, but I already had the

rubber pants.  Where did you find that outrageous wig?"



     Thirty seconds later, he stood morosely wiping champaign from his

jacket, amazed to discover that not only had her accent been real, but the

wig was not a wig, and her head was as empty as her glass was now.  She was

not The Woman.



     'The Woman' was a sort of fantasy he'd entertained since puberty.  He

sat down at the cash bar, and thought back to his high school days, to his

first and only great love.



     When he was about sixteen, and noticing girls in a big way, he'd made

a pass at the sexiest red-headed girl in school, Mandy.  This was a bold

step for him, since he'd always had trouble talking to girls.  It was

discouraging, actually, for his swim-team body and cute looks tended to

attract quite a few potential dates and even bed-mates.  The problem was

that Jason Stewart was not just a jock.  He was smart, and he knew it, and

he just couldn't relate to 99% of the girls at school, despite the urging

of his percolating hormones.  To be sure, there were a few smart girls at

his school, but they dressed like bag-ladies, and their personal grooming

habits would have shamed a wino.  There appeared to be no females there

with good looks, good taste, and intelligence in the entire city of St.

Louis.



     Moreover, his social skills seemed somehow lacking when dealing with

girls- they seemed to him almost an alien race, with quite different needs

and goals than he.  Due to an early divorce, Jason had grown up without a

father, and somehow his mother had never graced him with any dating skills.



     After two years of unsuccessful attempts at conversation with

empty-headed Madonnawannabes, and a few aborted dates, he overheard a

conversation between his chemistry teacher and Mandy Rafool.  She was

discussing the relationship between what she had learned in physics class

to the current discussion of valences in chemistry.  He would never have

imagined!  He had seen her around for quite awhile and like every other guy

in school had been fascinated with her pretty face, tight jeans and

sweaters, and astonishingly mature body.  And like every other guy in

school, he had noticed that she was conspicuously without a boyfriend.  But

he'd assumed from her good looks and her retinue of bimbettes that she was

yet another bimbo herself.  She was two years older than he, a senior, a

cheerleader and she seemed like a daddy's-little-girl type who never lacked

for anything, yet he had fallen hard, and he resolved to win her heart.



     For the next six months he secretly bought all the magazines the girls

at school seemed to worship, and studied.  In Seventeen, he learned how a

'real cool dude' walked, talked, and dressed.  In Young Model, he read

about the things every teenage girl supposedly wanted in a boyfriend.  In

Cosmo, he discovered what sort of sex 'every' sophisticated, mature woman

'wants to have'.  And, finally, after screwing his courage to the sticking

point, he'd asked her for a date.



     She'd accepted!  Actually, when he first spoke to her she'd laughed

and walked off with her friends, but then right after school, he had found

her sitting on the hood of his car.  She told him she was sorry, that she'd

actually thought him cute when they first met, but his inept approach had

'forced' her to rebuke him, lest her girlfriends think her 'easy'.

Considering how she domineered her peer group, he thought it more likely

that she only feared a loss of control, but didn't dare risk such a rebuke.

He was in love... or lust, which was about the same to him at that age.



     "Well, aren't you going to drive me home?" she'd demanded.  At last,

he had thought to himself, a girl who takes the lead.  As they talked,

sitting in his car in front of her house, he discovered with delight and a

certain relief that she did have a brain after all.  The vast majority of

the attractive girls, at least, seemed to believe that brains and education

were anathema to becoming a model, which every one of them except Mandy

seemed to want.  She told him she was getting straight A's except in

Home-EC, which she loathed, and that she had already decided to become an

investment broker!



     He asked her why she had no boyfriends, why she had picked him.  Her

reply astonished, and then warmed him.  It seemed that she too, was turned

off by empty-headed football jocks suffering from what she called

testosterone poisoning.  She seemed surprised and delighted that he was on

the swimming team, yet was also an intelligent student.  Then she shocked

him by revealing that she had not only dated a few of those football jocks,

but had sex with several, and found them to be boring, self-centered

lovers.



     At his stunned look she added, "Oh, don't look so shocked.  There's

nothing wrong with having sex early, although you could never prove it by

those immature fools I run with.  I'm not stupid, I use condoms, I play it

safe.  Besides, I've seen the way you look at my body, you know damn well

you'd give your left arm to get in my pants..." here she reached over and

squeezed his crotch, nearly causing a minor traffic accident, "...and who

knows, maybe you will, if you're good to me."



     Jason's brain was yelling, "DANGER...DANGER, Dr. Smith!  Cockteaser

ahead!"  but he suppressed its voice easily and told himself she really

meant it- she was just a very bossy girl...er, woman, he corrected himself.



     She turned out to be a rather forceful lass indeed.  Fortunately for

Jason's grades, she shared no classes with him, but when they passed in the

halls, she surreptitiously blew him kisses, or licked her lips lasciviously

when no-one was looking.  She insisted on meeting him after school every

day, and that he drive her home.  He lived for those drives, as they talked

about their pastimes and interests, the other kids at school, and

frequently about sex.  She seemed quite knowledgeable on that subject, and

astonished him with her frank, technical descriptions of what seemed to him

bizarre yet tantalizing acts.



     Finally, on Friday, she informed him that he would pick her up at

seven that night to go to Angelo's for dinner.  Angelo's was a restaurant &

nightclub, rather pricey for kids their age, but his part time job at Radio

Shack had allowed him to save a tidy bundle.  He felt a moment of pride at

being able to wine and dine the sexiest girl in school.



     It was rather a relief actually, not having to worry how to persuade

her to go out with him.  All she required of him was a "yes".



     When he picked her up, he discovered that she challenged the

conventions of fashion as well.  He got to her house early and after

waiting nervously on the porch for several minutes, he rang the bell

precisely at seven o'clock.  She opened the door within seconds, and

breezed right past him toward the car.  He could only stare after her in

shock.  When she realized he wasn't following she turned, staring back at

him with hands on hips, looking at him silently as if to say, 'Well, aren't

you coming?'  He continued to stare for a moment, than slowly walked up to

her, his expression of slack-jawed astonishment slowly turning to one of

frank admiration as he boldly looked her up and down.  The temperature of

the warm June night suddenly rose several degrees.



     "Buy you a drink, senior?"  The voice at his shoulder snapped Jason

back to the present.  A huge woman, no, a transvestite, in a tight red

flamenco dress was standing next to him.



     "Umm, no thanks.  I mean, no offense, but your eyes are the wrong

color for me."  The flamenco dancer pouted and flounced away.  Jason sipped

his scotch, closed his eyes and thought back to that first, incredible

night.



     For their trip to the club, she had worn an outrageous shiny rubber

miniskirt in hot pink that fit like a second skin.  If that wasn't enough,

she had topped it with a tight-fitting jacket of white patent leather,

accompanied by fishnet stockings and pink patent spike heels.  She wore no

blouse under the jacket, and if she wore a bra, it must have been quite

low-cut, as her burgeoning cleavage was plainly displayed in the neckline.

His first reaction was that she looked like one of the hookers on Main

Street, or a heroine from a B-grade movie, although unarguably sexy!



     "My god Mandy," he said, "you look delectable!"



     She grinned a wicked grin. "Yes, I know.  I take it then that you like

my tastes."



     She even sounds like a b-grade movie, he thought.  He convinced his

eyes to stop exploring her body, to meet her gaze.  "Mandy, I LOVE the way

you look...it's just that...  I guess it's a bit of a shock.  At school,

you never wear anything more provocative than a tight sweater...do you

dress this way every time you go out?  Don't you get a lot of flack from

your parents?"  He realized he was gushing and shut up, coloring slightly.



     She smiled wryly at him and ticked off her reply on her fingers.

"First: I dress the way I dress at school in order to identify with those

little idiots who follow me around like puppy dogs.  I give them something

to look up to, they give me a certain cachet of respectability, helping me

to get on the cheerleading team, the school newspaper, the yearbook staff,

student council, and so on.  That stuff looks great to college scouts,

after they finish examining your test scores, of course.  "Second: no, I

don't always dress this way when I go out, only when I want to reduce my

date to a drooling blob of lust."  She grinned mischievously.



     "It's working, believe me," stammered Jason,



     "..third," Mandy interrupted, "no, my parents don't mind much at all..

you should see some of the things THEY wear.  And fourth, are we going to

dinner, or not?"



     During dinner, while his head was reeling from her fantastically clothed

figure, her slightly musky cologne, and two glasses of wine, she whispered

to him in no uncertain terms what she expected of him later.  Jason was in

pubescent heaven.  His erection had not subsided since she'd opened the

door, and she certainly wasn't helping with her thoroughly lurid account of

the things she wanted to do to him.  If she weren't so straightforward and

bossy, he thought, I'd think she was the biggest tease of all time.



     By the time dessert had arrived, she had removed a shoe, and was

massaging his uncomfortable bulge with her toes, the concealing tablecloth

keeping their secret.  When she put her shoe back on and began squeezing

his crotch between both heels, he thought he would explode.  He didn't want

to cream in his pants, but he didn't want to make a scene, either.  The

whole time, Mandy kept up a stream of innocuous conversation that for

Jason, became increasingly difficult to follow.



     When they got to the car, she leaned back against the car, inviting

him into her arms.  For a few seconds, Jason hugged her gently, as if

afraid she would break.  He kissed her hesitantly, just before they both

threw decorum to the wind, each grabbing the other fiercely, smothering

each other with their mouths, their tongues.  Jason squeezed her ass and

pulled her tightly to him, marveling at the unusual feeling of the smooth,

pliant latex covering her muscular cheeks.  Mandy responded by pushing her

hand down his pants.  Jason felt her hand around his erect shaft, and

suddenly knew that they would not be getting home at the hour he'd promised

his mother.  He drew his head back, looked her in the eyes.  "I think we'd

better go somewhere."



     Mandy had him drive to the outskirts of town to an abandoned farmhouse

she knew about from some previous amorous adventure.  The entire way, she

was melted against him, rubbing his skin with her hands, and distracting

him from driving in general.  Soon she had opened his fly, and had scooped

everything out.  Jason tried to think of something to say, but was overcome

by the unique sensation of SOMEONE ELSE handling his cock, softly squeezing

his balls.  He tried to concentrate on the road, but when she pulled him

into her mouth, for the second time that week, he almost drove off the

road.  "Ah!  ..ahhh" was all he could say.



     "Relax," she said, releasing his cock for a moment, "you drive the

car, and I'll drive you."  She again bent to her task.  During a moment's

clear thought, he realized she was quite good at it.  Every time he felt

ready to come off, she either slowed down or stopped altogether, moving her

attention and tongue to his balls, or neck, or earlobes.  Only once did she

come up for air, to give directions.



     When they finally arrived, Jason pulled out a large picnic blanket his

mother kept in the trunk, "for road emergencies".  He'd decided that this

was a road emergency.  In seconds, Mandy had him down on the blanket on his

back, her legs astride his hips, and her hands pressing his shoulders into

the soft earth.  "You're a virgin, aren't you?" she asked softly, smiling

gently down at him in the pale moonlight.  Despite his embarrassment, he

couldn't break her gaze. "Umm, yeah," he answered sheepishly.



     Softly, she stroked his face. "Heyy.... heyyy," she cooed, "it's

all right!  Everyone's a virgin some time in their life.  You just sit back

and enjoy the ride.  If you feel like doing something, say so, or just do

what comes naturally.  Now then..." She squirmed backwards enough to get at

his belt and stood suddenly, unceremoniously yanking off his pants.

"There!  Now we're getting somewhere," she exclaimed, grabbing at his

underwear.  When she had him totally nude he protested, "Hey, wait a

minute, I'm not wearing a stitch, and you're still dressed!  That's hardly

fair."

                    

                            - Chapter 2 -



     Mandy stood astride Jason's chest and looked down at his eager young

face.  He looked like a kid in a candy store.  She feigned a hurt

expression.  "Don't you LIKE the way I'm dressed?"  She ran her hands over

the thin shiny patent leather covering her breasts, turned to face his

feet, giving him an excellent view as she caressed her latex-covered

derriere.



     "Er, well, I didn't mean..."



     "And besides," she added, bending to look at him between her knees as

she positioned herself above his head, "I'm not wearing any panties."  So

saying, she knelt astride his chest, pinning his upper arms under her

shins, and squatting directly over his face.



     Jason had actually dreaded this moment.  Although a virgin, he was by

no means ignorant, and through his reading and by the coarse jokes and

bragging told in the swimming team locker room, he had surmised that

cunnilingus was a distasteful and unpleasant experience.  All that changed

in the next thirty seconds. As she lowered her crotch over his face, she

began stroking his erect cock, occasionally leaning forward to tongue and

partially suck on him.  He was eager to return the favor.  He sniffed

cautiously.  A melange of scent surprised his nose.  The smell of the latex

miniskirt, now hiked up around her hips was reminiscent more of certain

pipe tobaccos than the smelly innertube rubber he was more familiar with.

This was mixed with a new smell, musky and rich, not unpleasant, but...

strange, with a hint of some musky cologne.  He suspected she had scented

herself here as well.  Encouraged, he reached out with his tongue,

exploring the pink flesh hidden in the hair. She tasted much the same as

she smelled.  He decided that the boys on the swim team must be crazy or

liars, because he was already beginning to like it.



     As his tongue made it's first tentative entry into her hungry sex,

Mandy moaned, backed up into his mouth, and bent further to take him

completely into her mouth.  Jason bucked his mouth and tongue against her

and into her, having only a fleeting instant to think "I'm doing it!  At

last, I'm actually doing 69 with the best girl in school!" before the rising

heat in his groin became a pulsing fire that swept through his mind,

leaving only peace and a growing love behind it.



     "Hey buddy, if you're not gonna drink, how about letting someone else

use that stool, huh?"  Jason awoke with a start from his reverie, realizing

his daydream had become that lucid, remembering sort of sleep-dream.  He

looked up at the hard hat that had spoken, realizing that the deep voice

belonged to a huge, muscular woman dressed as a construction worker.  She

had one meaty fist clamped around the wrist of a fierce-looking smaller

woman sporting a green mohawk, the other around a huge can of Buddweizer.

Jason blinked and said, "Uh, I was just leaving."  Sometimes, he thought

heading for the other end of the bar, discretion is the ONLY part of valor.



     As the saddening memories of his lost love returned, Jason hailed the

bartender, who had been replaced by a six-foot tall pink elephant, and

ordered another shot of the Macallan.  Wistfully, he thought about that

first night of blazing hot sex, of exploration and learning.  He remembered

that at one point, Mandy had been lying back, knees in the air, while

Jason, his hands lifting her ass, lapped and sucked hungrily at her pussy.

Essentially they were waiting for Jason's plumbing to recover before having

at it again.  Mandy had suddenly lowered her legs, tucking her ankles into

his armpits, and pulled her skirt down around his head.  When he started to

back out to see what was wrong, she urged, "No, keep going," and pulled him

to her with her ankles.  Jason, his head squeezed between her muscular

thighs and the tightly stretched skirt, his nose assaulted by her strong

musk and the aromatic scent of the rubber, set to with renewed vigor, and

soon found his tool hardening again.



     It had been an incredible night, and he had learned a few new skills,

too.



     From that day forth, he had developed a special affinity for Mandy's

style of dress: high heels, tight fitting, yet revealing jackets and

blouses and skin tight dresses.  His lover had quite a few sexy outfits,

including several made from leather, or shiny, stretchy plastic, and a

purple latex sheath dress that looked as if it were painted on.  He

especially liked the look and feel of the rubber outfits.  She even had a

pair of black bicycle shorts made of latex that she insisted he try on.

The unique, clingy, slightly restrictive sensation had made him instantly

hard, and when she rubbed up against him in her purple rubber dress, he

surprised them both by suddenly coming in his pants.



     The smooth, stretchy material seemed to be the ultimate in second

skin, emphasizing the shape of the body, smoothing imperfections, and even

offering a kind of isolating protection from the weather.  He looked

everywhere for items made of it, but to no avail.  To be sure, latex

dresses and rubber pants were shown off on perfect bodies in various

fashion magazines from time to time, but all he found locally were rubber

kitchen gloves.



     Finally, he asked Mandy where she had gotten her rubber items. "Why,"

she giggled, "do you want a dress for yourself?"



     "No," he lied, "I think I prefer rubber dresses on you.  I thought I'd

get you something new, but I can't find anything."



     "Oh, my dad bought some of it for me when he was in New York, I don't

know what store.  Then I found mom looking through a catalog from some

British company, and I just asked her to order some things for me, too."



     Jason had wondered what sort of parents bought their daughter rubber

miniskirts, but kept his thoughts to himself.

 

     For seven months, they were inseperable, despite the accusations from

his mother that Mandy "looked like trash" in her wild, sexy outfits.  When

Jason told his mom who Mandy's parents were, and what neighborhood they

lived in, that was the end of that.

 

     He did finally get to meet Mandy's parents, and received several clues

about Mandy's maturity and free lifestyle.  Both parents were highly paid

professionals, mom a mathematician for an engineering firm, and dad a

nursing instructor for a local university hospital.  They were smart, they

knew their daughter was too, and they were apparently very open minded

about her sexuality.  Their only iron-clad rules concerned her academic

performance, and her health.  Jason learned that they were the source of

Mandy's uncommon but sensible fixation on what she called, "safe sex".



     Only once did Jason glimpse anything unusual about the senior

Rafool's.  During one weekend visit to Mandy's house to get her help with

some schoolwork, Jason went to the kitchen to grab them some Coke's.  On

the way back, he passed the garage door which had been left ajar, and from

which some rather frantic moaning and grunting was coming.  Upon peeking

through the gap, he was greeted by the sight of a large black mummy

suspended by chains from the garage roof.  The bag looked like leather, and

covered the body within it from scalp to toes.  It was liberally equipped

with straps and buckles that had been drawn tight, making the entire

form-fitting arrangement quite taut.  Nonetheless, it was quirming

enthusiastically, and he noticed a wire dangling from the bag that trailed

off to his right.



     Then he noticed, at the edge of his view, a pair of crossed legs

belonging to someone seated just out of sight.  The legs had on an

extraordinary pair of knee-high boots with high platform soles, whose spike

heels must have been a foot long!  Above the boots, the legs were dressed

in something skin-tight, red, and very shiny which he suspected was rubber.

Shaking his head in amazement, he quietly returned to Mandy's room without

telling her what he had seen.



     Of course, thought Jason, it was to good to last...  Mandy's mother

had been hired to a lucrative position with a think tank in Washington,

DC., and the family moved away within a month.  It happened with hardly any

notice, and Mandy and Jason were crushed.  They spent days saying goodbye.

For almost a year, they wrote constantly, and once Mandy's parents payed

her airfare back to St. Louis.  They had a few precious days together,

fortunately during summer school break, which they spent seeing movies,

shopping, and enjoying wild and imaginative sex.



     Before she left, Mandy told him that if he couldn't come to

Washington, she would be looking for another partner to spend her life

with.  Although he knew it was only fair, having it out in the open drove

home the fact that he had lost her.  It was years before he tried dating

again.



     Years later, in an adult book store, he found a magazine dedicated to

"fetishists".  The pictures of women (and men!) in corsets, rubber, and

high heels were tantalizing and a kind of relief, as he had imagined that

his fascination was unique.  He bought it and went home to look up the

word, "fetish".  It fits, he sighed to himself.  I suppose I'll never find

another girl like Mandy.  Inside the magazine, he found page after page of

amazing photographs.  And the clothes!  Every page showed men and women in

the most delicious rubber costumes imaginable.  There were rubber dresses,

rubber shirts, long rubber gloves and stockings, in every color one could

want.  There was even a severe-looking rubber corset that compressed one

happily suffering woman from her neck to her ankles!  Moreover, the people

were doing the strangest things!  As he drooled over the steaming scenes,

trying to figure out the straps, hoses and other paraphernelia, he noticed

a tiny ad in one corner.  It was a company that sold all these wonderful

things!



     Fortunately, Jason was working in the computer field, and had a good-

sized income, or he would have gone broke within a year.  He ordered a few

rubber goods from that first company, and subscribed to a magazine they

mentioned. He was still getting over the shock that there were other people

out there who loved rubber as much as he!  In the magazine, there were

advertisements from other companies making everything from anoraks to zoot

suits, out of several different kinds of rubber.



     He had immediately reached for his checkbook.



     Over the years, he built an impressive collection of rubber goods,

from tight women's dresses, to men's "blue jeans".  But through it all,

despite his best efforts, he could find no-one to wear any of it with, or

to share his growing interest in bondage.  Oh, he dated, and socialized,

but he never found anyone to share his secret desires.  Just once, he had

dared to mention his fetish to a woman he had been dating for some months.

They had made love a few times, and she had proved quite conservative-

almost boring, Jason would have said.  But she did seem to enjoy dressing

sexy, although more for looks than the feeling of the clothes themselves,

so he casually mentioned that he would like to see her in a dress he'd

bought for her, and when she agreed, he brought out a rather plain sheath

dress in shiny black latex.  It fit her well, but she complained that it

'felt weird', and wouldn't wear it again.  He never dared to bring up the

topic again.  After they stopped seeing each other, he resigned himself to

a lonely life of masturbation and fantasies.

 

     Attending tonight's Hallowe'en party was a half-hearted attempt to get

out and see the local nightlife. He'd noticed, over the last few years, a

subtle trend toward a 'trashy and flashy' look in fashion, and had begun to

have hopes of finding a lover who shared his tastes.  He had debated for

hours what to wear to the party, balancing the requirements for a costume

against his desire to "come out" in something kinky.  In the end, he

settled on renting a Spanish toreador outfit worn with his own black rubber

knickers, and a simple domino mask.



     It took all his courage to wear the pants, too.



     But as he pulled the stretchy, shiny latex over his legs, he realized

it didn't matter what people thought, tonight was Hallowe'en!  Tonight was

the one night he could wear anything at all without fear of ridicule or

outcry.  He revelled in the tight, smooth feel of the rubber jeans.  To

hell with it, he thought, I'm going to enjoy myself tonight!



     At the party, which was hosted by a local radio station, he was

greeted by a delightful array of leather dresses, spandex pants and skirts,

and other sexy costumes.  But as he danced with various partners in turn,

he realized that to these nervously laughing people, they were just

costumes, and none of them would likely wear such things to the office.

There was no lack of spandex, plenty of cheap imitation leather, and a fair

amount of real leather, but not one bit of rubber was to be seen.

Eventually, he sat down at the bar to rest and console himself with a

drink.



     Now, after two stiff scotches, he had become positively soggy with

nostalgia.  So, as he sat sweltering in his sweaty costume, feeling utterly

alone in his perversion, he was overwhelmed to see two women walk in,

wearing what appeared to be mostly rubber costumes.  And what costumes!

The first to enter, a tall redhead with an impossibly exaggerated hourglass

figure, was wearing what looked like a cross between a form-fitting jacket

and a corset, made of black patent leather.  She possessed the smallest

waist he had ever seen.  Below that, a skin-tight glossy hobble-skirt

flared around her ample hips, compressing her legs together from waist to

knee.  Judging from its smooth, shiny texture and its fluid movement as she

walked, it was made of thick latex rubber.  On her legs, she wore

knee-length boots with six-inch heels, that laced all the way up.



     Her companion, a shorter brunette, was dressed in a classic french

maid's uniform, complete with white doily, except that her uniform was made

entirely of rubber.  She had on long black latex stockings with lace

garters showing just under the hem of her skirt.  His eyes grew wider.  On

her feet were a pair of cruel looking patent leather ankle boots with 6-

inch spike heels, and heavy ankle straps attached to each other with a

sturdy little chain.  They seemed to be giving her trouble, because she

faltered a bit as the pair walked toward him.  Her hands were covered by

black latex gloves and she carried an old-style feather duster. She truly

looked the part, right down to a pert little leather maids cap.  Both were

masked with plain black dominoes.



     As he drank in the incredible sight of the two ladies, the red-head

caught him looking and began walking toward the bar, staring him directly

in the eye the whole way.  She hardly paused on the way, the crowd parted

around the pair like the Red Sea.  Perhaps because of their dress, women

and men alike seemed in a hurry to get out of their way.  Jason watched her

walk, mesmerized, as her legs wrestled with the tight hobble skirt for room

to breathe, the thick rubber forcing her to take mincing steps on the

precariously high heels.

 

     It suddenly occured to Jason that the couple was probably lesbian, and

he was about to get the proverbial stuffing kicked out of him by

spike-heeled shoes.  He glanced left and right, looking for an avenue of

escape.  But by the time he made it to his feet, swaying slightly from the

booze, she stood before him, a stern-looking vision in rubber and leather.

She said nothing at first, looking him up and down, a faint smile playing

on her lips.



     Trying to look nonchalant, Jason swung around and glanced about the

dance floor.  It seemed he was not the only one who found them attractive.

Practically everyone's eyes had been locked on the pair as they threaded

their way across the dance floor.  They were still receiving hotly critical

stares from a few female partners.  Finally, the red-head in the hobble

skirt spoke, smiling taughtly.



     "You must really like our costumes," she said, "I could feel your

stare from across the room!"



     Jason looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. It's just that, well, they are a

little little unusual, even for Hallowe'en.  I mean, you seem to be

comfortable wearing this sort of thing, even those heels, which umm, by the

way, don't look easy to walk in...and you know, everyone else is just

renting their costumes for the evening.  And...and they fit so well, did

you make them yourself?" he gushed.  He paused for a breath. "Sorry.

Sorry, you ladies really look wonderful, I love what you're wearing...I

guess I'm just... well, it isn't every day a guy has two gorgeous women

dressed in rubber in front of him.  Er, can I buy you ladies a drink?"



     "Why certainly," she replied, "we'd love to have a drink, wouldn't we,

dear?"  She looked at her companion. The other woman, who Jason guessed was

a few years younger, said nothing. In fact her expression hadn't changed

since they walked up.  She seemed distracted, staring off across the room.

Jason turned to the bar and ordered another Macallan, "and whatever the 

ladies are having."



     "And what makes you think I'm a lady?" she said coolly, eyeing him in

the bar mirror.



     Oho, he thought to himself. "Despite your bizarre outfits, I've got to

assume you're a nice girl from uptown until proven otherwise," he said

wryly.



     "I'm a woman, not a girl.  You only get one warning."



     "I'm sorry!  I didn't mean...sorry. By the way, my name's Jason."



     "Enchente', Jason.  For this evening, I am 'Mistress Mayhem', and this

is my faithful sidekick, 'Maid Marion'.



     "Maid Marion! Aaugh!" he groaned at her pun as the drinks arrived.



     "So, Maid Marion, what prompted you to do this particular scene?"  She

looked blankly back at him, or rather, just over his shoulder.  She seemed

not to hear.  Odd.  Her makeup is a tad to heavy, he thought.  He noticed

now too, that her free hand was bound to her waist by a slender leather

cuff attached to her waist-belt.  It looked very much like his dreams had

come true!



     "She ahh, doesn't talk much, I'm afraid," said 'Mayhem', "but, really,

the whole thing was my idea.  I liked the idea of a Hallowe'en costume

party, and actually, we dress up in costume quite a bit.  We didn't make

the outfits, it's too tricky working with rubber, you have to get the seams

just right.  We have them custom made overseas."



                            - Chapter 3 -

  

"You seem to know a lot about dressing for pleasure," replied Jason, "That is,

most people don't even know it exists, and even less would be brave enough

to do it in public."



   "What do you mean brave enough?"  retorted the woman who called herself

`Mistress Mayhem',  "Rubber and leather, plastic... they're just materials, 

like rayon or polyester, with ah, more taste perhaps- you see women wearing 

shiny plastic raincoats all the time, and leather has been high fashion for 

years."

   "Your problem is, you have this guilt trip because some people may think

it's kinky or wierd to wear clothes made of rubber.  So what does it mean to 

be kinky - to be different?  What's wrong with being different?  Do you want 

to be just another sheep in the herd,  or do you want to run your own life?"  

She stopped, breathing a little deeper from her tirade, and stared defiantly 

into Jason's eyes.



   He tried to ignore the delightful things happening under her jacket as a 

result of her heavy breathing.  "I don't know," he sighed, "I never seem to 

think these things through.  Sometimes I think I need someone to run my life 

for me." 



 She raised an eyebrow at that, and looked him over again.  Her expression

was odd, as if she were looking for some specific thing that might be hidden

somewhere on his person.



 Jason took the opportunity to look her over in turn.  He saw that what he 

had mistaken in the dim lighting for a tight jacket, was in fact, a severe 

looking leather corset - he could see the heavy boning within the material.  

 It was an amazing piece of engineering.  It looked like a jacket because it 

had a bustier built in to the chest portion with deep-drawn, form fitting 

cups, which jutted nearly straight out, showing ample cleavage.  The garment

fitted tightly from shoulders to well over the hips.  The waist was pulled in 

quite severely, and since it was boned the entire length, it must have been

completely rigid.

No wonder she had seemed breathless when they first walked up!



 The long rubber hobble skirt was tucked underneath it, and revealed the

muscular legs and derrier of someone who definitely had been getting her 

exercise.

 She stared into his eyes for a few minutes, then noticed him noticing her,

and seemed to reach a decision.  

She grinned, saying, "Be careful what you ask for, you may get it!  Right now

though, I feel like dancing.  Come on, you can't sit there being pathetic all 

night!" 

She grabbed his hand and dragged him from his bar stool, while simultaneously 

shoving "Maid Marion" into the vacated seat.  "Marion will stay here, of 

course."



 Jason didn't ask why Marion `would stay there of course'.  Her silence 

and the non-expression she wore worried him, though.  While Mayhem tugged him 

with surprising strength in the direction of the dance floor, he resisted a 

moment, staring back at Marion.  She still had that impassive look on her 

face, staring at nothing in particular.  Suddenly, his pickled bloodstream 

caught up with the sudden rise to his feet, and the dance music faded under a 

loud buzzing in his ears, and all his attention focused, as if through 

binoculars, upon the seated woman.  She stared captivatingly, if rather 

vacantly, back at him, their gazes locked together while several hours passed.

 He had plenty of time to notice little details that had escaped him when 

`Mayhem' had first introduced them.  He saw why she never moved the feather 

duster.  The `bracelet' on the wrist of her dusting hand was locked on by a 

tiny padlock, and attached directly to her belt at the waist.  Moreover, the 

feather duster was literally glued to her rubber glove, she couldn't put it 

down, or grasp anything else with that hand.



 Then too, something was definitely _wrong_ about her face, especially around 

the eyes.  Her makeup's far too thick, he thought to himself.



 THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, 

"IIIf ya wan't ma body, 

 AAND ya think I'm sexy..."  

The music swelled around his head, and as his hearing and head cleared, the 

pounding bass reminded his bladder of several drinks.  He turned reluctantly 

to follow Mistress Mayhem.



  "I can see why your maid doesn't do much dancing," he shouted in her ear,

as they squirmed through the crowd to the dance floor.



 "Yes," she replied, grinning, "you know, it is so hard to get good help these

days, and sometimes they have to be disciplined."



  "Er, yeah.  Well anyway, as I was saying, it's all very well for you to

say, `Go ahead, be yourself', but sometimes, I'm not sure just who I am.

 No, I mean, I know that I'm Jason Stewart; I'm a software engineer; I know 

that I drive a green Saab, and so on, but..."

 

"That's got to be the fastest, most concise introduction I've ever heard,"

interrupted Mayhem.



"Okay, okay, but anyway...I lead kind of a double life.  I've got... hobbies, 

interests that I can't do...right out in public, you know?"  Her eyes seemed 

to widen a bit as he said this, but then hardened as he finished his

sentence.



 "Listen," Mayhem shot back, temporarily losing her upper-class affectation 

for a moment, "you damn well CAN do almost anything that isn't downright 

illegal, and quite a bit of that too, in public.  If you don't have the guts 

to, say so.  It's all a matter of where your priorities are.  What's more 

important- your own happiness, or some stranger's opinion of you?"



 "Well, you see, it's not as simple as all that.  I, umm...  I REALLY like 

rubber."  What was he doing?  Jason asked himself.  "It's like... well, an 

obsession," he continued, "I don't expect you to understand."   

 He had just told his secret to a total stranger!  Mayhem was looking at him 

with a faintly amused expression.

 He realized then, that in his desperation for company, he had made a classic 

blunder.  He had blithely assumed from her costume that she shared his 

fetish, and worse, he now realized that he had just opened himself to a storm 

of ridicule from this walking wet dream.  As her smile grew broader, he 

prepared himself for the worst.



 "Oh, I understand, alright,"  'Mistress Mayhem' said.  She winked at him.

"Relax, will you?  'Marion' and I do these things all the time.  The

costumes and bondage games, I mean... hey, are you all right?"  She stared at

Jason as he stopped his half-hearted attempt at dance, swaying slightly within

a clearing of the crowd.



 Jason had stopped dancing for a moment as what she had said sunk in, then he

did his dazed best to pick up where he had left off.  He was swimming now in

the latex knickers.  The scotch, though it had been excellent, was now

making him sweat, this conversation was making him sweat, and the fantastic, 

delicious appearance of Mayhem herself was making him sweat.  He felt almost 

ready to faint from heat, stress, and simple, unrelieved lust.

  The music had changed to a current rock tune, and he refrained from

picking up the pace.  He noticed that while Mayhem's stiletto heeled boots

were definitely not made for dancing, she seemed surprisingly nimble in them.



 Mayhem, seeing him falter several times, finally grabbed him with both hands

by wrist and biceps, saying, "Come on, you'd better sit down before you fall 

down."



 She steered him back toward the bar.  There were no unoccupied stools 

anywhere near where Maid Marion sat waiting.  Next to her, a man who looked 

like nothing so much as a used car salesman was trying to engage her in 

conversation.  She remained a statue, staring off across the dance floor.  



 Mayhem pulled up short in front of the polyester suit replete with polka dot 

bow tie, Jason swaying every so slightly at her side.  Jason hoped this guy's 

outfit was a costume.  He looked like Soupy Sales.  He wasn't particularly 

tall either, at least sitting down, and Mayhem's sky-scraper heels brought her

up to where her leather-armored breasts jutted straight into his face.  It 

occurred to Jason that he had never seen heels as tall as the ones these women 

wore, except in fetish magazines.  He had certainly never seen anyone walk in 

them.  Mayhem's confident stride, and precise, if tiny steps gave her a cachet 

of power, of potency.



 She was giving the used car salesman a hostile stare that should have melted 

his suit to his skin.  He was oblivious in his determination to get Marion's

attention.

 Mayhem tapped him on the shoulder saying, "She can't hear you or see

you- she's deaf and blind," she said.



 The suit had obviously had too much to drink.  "Well uh, thash okay, he said,

reaching out to hold Marion's hand.  Jason watched Mayhem's hand shoot out,

grabbing the drunk's in a funny way, his wrist bent forward sharply.  He heard 

the man hiss with supressed pain, saw him surge to his feet as if to begin 

battle.  Something about his potential opponent made him pause, however.  

Perhaps it was the fact that even with him standing up, Mayhem was still a 

head taller than he.  Perhaps it was that her leather and rubber costume, 

while undeniably sexy, made her appear less a fragile creature and more the

armored amazon.  Or maybe it was just that she still had his hand and wrist in

that odd grip, and as he stood, she put her other hand atop his, twisting 

downward, just a bit.  The suit gasped, grabbing the bar with his other hand 

for balance.



"You were just leaving," she observed.   Mr. Polyester seemed to agree

wholeheartedly, his beligerence evaporating in favor of a frightened look over 

his shoulder on his way to the door.



 Mayhem seemed to forget him that instant, and within a few seconds, had 

Jason ensconced in his chair with a cup of coffee, and was examining Marion

closely.  While Jason watched, fascinated with her every movement, she ran

her hands over Marion's face, removed one kid glove to feel under Marion's

armpit, touch her forehead.  She acted like a doctor examining her patient for 

a fever.  After only a moment, she seemed satisfied, and turned back to Jason.

She looked at him seriously.



"Jason, we have to get home pretty soon."  She looked him over, considering

something.  "But since you claim to like our costumes so much, why don't you 

join us for a while, it's still early."  She grinned in what seemed a familiar 

way.



"Umm.  Well, I..."  He was at a loss for words.  He managed to admit to

himself that  Mayhem frightened him, a little.  He struggled for a moment

with his libido and his sense of self-preservation.   



 Mandy smiled reassuringly.  "We have quite a few things back at our house 

that you might like.  Quite a lot of rubber.  I'd say about three-fourths of 

our wardrobe is either rubber, leather or something like.  You can model some

things for us, and perhaps we can persuade Marion to put on something 

more sexy."



 Jason was flabbergasted at her offer.  He was also doubtful there was

anything so sexy as the latex french maid's outfit Marion had on now, but he

didn't say that.  Instead, he gushed, "Well, sure, I'd love to!  I've got a lo

of rubber and such myself, I'd say most of the dresses and... things... would

fit either you or Marion."  



 At her amused smile he stammered, "Oh! they're not for me!  I've sort of been 

collecting them, in case I met... someone.  I mean someone like you.  I'd be 

happy to have you try some of them on, I'd say most of them would fit

either you or Marion."  Here he glanced at the maid, feeling rather sorry for

her that she couldn't join in the conversation.  Apparently, she didn't sign or

read lips, as she had spent the entire evening staring straight ahead.   H

looked back at Mayhem, somewhat embarassed by his admission.  

 "Anyway, if you ladies would like to, we could stop at my place for coffee,"

he finished lamely.



"Actually, I'd like that," replied Mayhem gently.  



"By the way," Jason spoke up again, "speaking of Marion, and uh, I don't

mean to sound insensitive but what's her...um, problem?   She's not really deaf

is she?  Has she... that is, is she being punished or something?"



"I'll explain later," Mayhem answered cryptically.  



 Jason realized belatedly that he might be pushing his luck, but his curiosity 

was killing him.  He ventured another question.  "And why does she wear such 

heavy makeup?  'Seems her face is pretty enough without it.  Or is that part 

of the game?"



 "I said, I'll explain later," repeated Mayhem, rather irritably.



Jason shut up fast, hoping he hadn't offended her somehow.



 It struck him then, that she never asked or suggested things, she TOLD.

It would seem, he thought, that this headstrong woman was quite used to having

things her way.



  The exercise had really made him sweat in the heavy latex pants, and they 

slipped and squeaked over his thighs.  It felt good, and the effects on

him must have been obvious, for as he shifted in his seat, Mayhem said,

"You seem to be enjoying the party, I must say," as she pointedly stared

at his crotch.  "Perhaps we had best get moving."

 

 "Not yet!" he exclaimed, "in a few minutes, it'll be midnight!  That's

when we all have to take off our masks!  Besides, it's only fair, since

you already know who I am, in name at least, and you're still a complete

mystery to me."  He did his best to smile engagingly.



  "Why, don't you like mysteries?" she asked.  "Perhaps we'll just leave now,

and leave you wondering, `who was that masked lady?'." 



 "No, please don't...  I've waited all my life to meet someone like you.

I know it sounds corny, but it's true.  At least let's get to know each other 

a little before we go our seperate ways."



 "What do you mean, someone like me?" Mayhem shot back.  She smiled

mischievously.  "Since, as you say, you don't know a thing about me, how do 

you know I'm someone you'll like?  I might have bizarre habits, or impossible 

requirements for you."



 Jason looked puzzled. "What do you mean requirements?  What sort of

requirements?"



 She cocked her head up, the feathers of her mask swaying above her head.  

"It seems to me, that you would very much like to get involved with 

me, and it just so happens that I MIGHT be available.  But I can't take on 

just any suitor who walks in off the street, now can I?   I am very choosey 

about who I associate with.  Now, in your case, I immediately recognized a man

in need of certain training."  She stressed the word `training'.  

Jason blushed as she continued.



"I might be persuaded to take you on, IF you agree to a few conditions."

 

  Jason's head swam.  He had only a vague idea of what she was talking about, 

but the dream of his lifetime had just fallen out of the clear blue sky, and 

he wasn't about to take a chance on losing her.  Or them, as the case might 

be.

  He grinned, stood up, and dropped to one knee.  "OK, then tell me," he 

replied in his best television-Shakespeare accent, "how do I persuade you of 

my sincerity and worth, fair lady?"

 

  At that moment, somebody rang a godawful loud bell, and a lady in a 

clown suit nearby shouted, "It's midnight!  It's midnight!  Off with the

masks!" 



  Mayhem smiled at Jason. "Well?" she said. 



 "But you haven't answered my question," he said.



 "Very well."  She raised her head to look down her nose at him.  You must 

undergo trials and tests of my devising, fair knight, before you may win MY 

favor."



 They both laughed. "Fair enough," he answered, and removed his domino.  He 

looked expectantly at 'Mayhem', but she was still giving him the Queen Victoria

stare down her nose.  She said, "You must first promise to submit to any

test I  decide upon, and to undertake any task I set you."



 Jason wasn't sure how serious she was, but he answered, "I promise."



 With a dramatic gesture, 'Mistress Mayhem' removed her mask. 



 It took Jason several seconds to before it hit him. 



 "Mandy!  Mandy Rafool!"  It was his first sweetheart from high school!

 He was in shock as she stood grinning down at him like the Cheshire Cat.  He

staggered back to sit back down.  All he could do was sit and admire her, 

wondering what quirk of fate had brought them together again.



 She looked miffed.  "Is that all you can say?" she demanded, "Some 

greeting for a long-lost lover."



 Jason leaped to his feet, reached for her and before she could say anything, 

was kissing her soundly.  



 Immediately, she pressed one stiletto heel into his foot, causing him to yelp 

and leap back, looking at her with a hurt puppy expression.  "That's the first 

thing we're going to have to teach you," she said, "how to treat a lady with 

respect!"  But she was smiling warmly, nonetheless. 



 "That smarts," he said ruefully.  "Hmm, you're acting fairly calm about...

waitagoddamminute!  Do you mean to tell me that you knew all along, that

you've been sitting here leading me on, and you knew who I was all along?"  

He glared at her accusingly.



 She stared calmly back at him.  "For one thing," she said, "it's not my fault

you chose to wear a simple domino mask, instead of something more elaborate.  

 Second, if you hadn't been half pickled by the time we got here, you

might have been observant enough to recognize me."  She frowned at the mad

rush for the bar that the bell and the accompanying announement had

precipitated.



 "Anyway, we've got a deal, so let's get out of here before the whole place

turns into a zoo."



"Come on, Maid Marion," she said, ( too loudly Jason thought), "we're

leaving." 

Marion, who hadn't moved from her stool since she sat down, stood up. 

 She seemed to teeter on her six-inch heels.



 "Wait! I just noticed!" Jason exclaimed.  "Maid Marion hasn't got a mask to

take off.  Come to think of it, she didn't have one when you two arrived.

 She must be the only person here not wearing a mask.  Now that's hardly fair!"

 By now, he had figured that something was most definitely up with the young

lady, and he still thought to figure it out. 

"You ought to at least introduce us, Mandy," he tried.



 "You've already had as much introduction as you're going to get.  I'm afraid 

she's not allowed to speak to anyone until we get home.  

Besides, she DOES have her mask, in a way.  You'll see."

 

 Jason looked from Mandy to 'Marion' to Mandy again.  "But... oh, alright.

Do you two have a car?"



 "No, we took a taxi.  And you should have seen the cabbies face!  I think we

must have distracted the poor man."  She did not appear geniuinely sympathetic.

"Anyway, you'll drive us, won't you?"



  In the car, with Mandy riding shotgun, Jason couldn't help looking in the

rear view mirror at 'Maid Marion'.  He couldn't figure out what was wrong about

her appearance.  She looked perfectly normal, but she never showed any emotion,

or expression, however slight.  Very odd.  Even when someone was `being

serious', they usually had some facial movement.  And there was something about

her eyes that still bugged him.  A passing car blared its horn at him, and he

concentrated on his driving.  Mandy was filling him in on the last several

years.



 "You see, I just realized one day that I was cutting off half the human

race.  And, well, you know how horny I was in high school?"



 "Uh, yeah?"



 "For me anyway, it got worse the older I got.  Or better, depending on

how you look at it."



 "Oh."  Brilliant comment, thought Jason.  Really snappy repartee.



  Mandy's hand was migrating into Jason's crotch.  "So, one saturday, I was

feeling lonely and very horny... I'd just broken up with George, so I was

pretty digusted with men in general.  All of my so-called friends were really

just business people, and like I said before, I had already left the money

circle behind.  Besides, most of them were men.  I decided I needed some 

friends I could talk to.  I went to The Three Sisters."



 "What's that?"



 "It's a gay bar.  For women.  I met a woman named Sandra there, and she

invited me to a party.  I had a few drinks to get my courage up and I went.

 It was a pretty wild party, with a lot of leather and rubber, cross-dressers,

corsetry nuts, you name it, most of the people were pretty kinky, one way or

another.  Anyway, somehow I ended up doing this scene with a couple from Ohio, 

they were really into fetishes, bondage, dressing for pleasure, a lot of 

things I'd been playing around the edges of for years.  We became pretty good

friends.  That woman taught me a lot about men."

 "Since then, I've met 'Marion' here, and one or two others, and we've been

having a grand time ever since."



 Jason was looking a little pale.  "Are you saying you're gay?  A lesbian?"



 "No.  I'm bisexual.  And what if I were strictly les?  Would you think I was 

subhuman?  I had thought you were more open minded than that."  Jason blushed.

"I've come to realize," continued Mandy, "that it doesn't matter what labels 

other people put on me, what matters is whether I'm enjoying myself.  

I do what pleases me."

 

 "And what exactly is it that pleases you?" Jason queried.



 "You'll see when we get to the house.  Do you want to stop off at your place, 

and pick up some clothes?"



 "That depends. How long would you like me to stay?"



                            - Chapter 4 -

 

     Mandy stared at nothing out the windshield.  "Oh, about a week should

do."

 

     "A week!  I was thinking of hours!  I can't stay a week, I've got to

be back to work on Monday."

 

     "Oh, come on," Mandy said reproachfully, "we haven't seen each other

in years.  Besides, you look like you could use a vacation.  Don't you have

some vacation time you could use?"

 

     "Well... I've got thirty days a year, and I haven't used any yet,

but.."

 

     "Then it's final!  I'll hear no more about it.  We'll just stop off at

your place, pick up this kinky wardrobe of yours, and then head for my

place.  This will be a blast, you'll see."

 

     "Oh, what-the-hell!  Why not?  Like you said, it's been a while.

Damn, girl!  How long's it been -- ten years?

 

     "I told you before.  I'm a woman, not a girl.  Please don't make that

mistake again."  Something in her tone made Jason glance sideways at her.

She was looking straight at him, with a very hard look in her eye.

 

     "Jeez, hey, no problem," he said, "Take it easy."  She didn't say

anything else for quite a few miles.

 

     Finally, to break the silence, Jason said, "So what was that business

with the drunk's wrist?  He looked like he was having a coronary!"

 

     "Aikido," Mandy replied. "When you enjoy dressing the way we do,

sometimes you have to remind men of their place.  You know, the whole

syndrome of `If she's dressed that way, she must be ASKING for it.'  You

have to defend yourself, because the police can't and the courts...well, by

the time you get to the courts, it's too late, and they probably won't do

anything anyway."

 

     "Why do I get the impression you've had some bad experiences?" asked

Jason.

 

     "I have," she replied.  "Maid Marion and I were walking back to our

car from a play party.  It was kind of a bondage...fetish...just-for-fun

kind of thing.  Marion had gotten both her arms and legs put into casts...

well, it was a strange and exhausting evening.  Some social cancer saw a

cripple walking with a sex goddess and decided we were fair game.  I got

scraped up quite a bit, and Mandy got cut on her hand, but we came out on

top.  So to speak."

 

     "What happened to your assailant?"

 

     "He got hospitalized with several broken ribs and a crushed testicle.

Marion couldn't walk without some crutches we'd improvised at the party,

but her arm casts made damn good clubs!"  They both chuckled at this.

 

     When they reached his apartment, Jason looked over at his rediscovered

lover and said, "Listen, do you think you could give me a hand with the

latex and stuff?  It's kind of heavy."

 

     The domelight showed Mandy feigning shock.  "Do I look like menial

labor?  Besides, I have to stay here to make sure our maid doesn't run

away."

 

     Jason laughed. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to run away from you!"

 

     As he headed for the steps, she muttered at his back, "You might be

surprised, my love, you might be surprised."

 

     As soon as Jason had disappeared inside, she quickly opened the door,

and got in the back seat with their other passenger.

 

     Inside, Jason dashed through the apartment, collecting luggage,

toiletries kit, towels, and clothes.  These were crammed into a small

valise.  From a closet he dragged out a huge steamer trunk, dragged it into

the bedroom and opened it on the floor, talking to himself all the while.

 

     "Boy, oh boy, you have really got yourself into it this time.  You

haven't seen this woman for how many years, and the first thing you do is

take a week of vacation just to get into her pants again.  And gawd, has

she changed!  She's been sleeping with women, she's on some kind of power

trip, and she totes around some kind of groupie who's into who-knows-what."

 

     But his libido had other things to say: Yeah, but look how she's

grown...  what a woman!  And did you see her outfit?  That latex hobble

skirt is so thick she can barely walk, and those boots -- wow!  Listen man,

don't be a fool -- you pass this up, you may never see her again.

 

     Apparently, his balls were winning the argument, because he threw open

another closet, revealing his treasure of rubber garments, some hanging

over wide, padded hangers, some folded in neat piles on shelves.  All of it

had been lovingly polished until it gleamed like patent leather.

 

     He also opened several drawers to retrieve bondage gear, some

unusually restrictive clothes, and several corsets.  All of it was dumped

unceremoniously into the huge trunk.  On the top of this pile he tossed

several containers of talc, with which to powder the latex.

 

     He paused at the bar for a shot of dutch courage, then thought better

of it.  "Damn! I'm driving," he muttered.

 

     Having wrestled the heavy trunk and his overnighter to the head of the

sidewalk steps, he paused to catch his breath.  Looking down to the car, he

saw Mandy in the back seat with the other young woman.  She appeared to be

doing something under the other's skirt.

 

     "Well, get used to it, chum," Jason told himself, and huffed slowly

down the stairs.  He got the trunk loaded, and as he got into the drivers

seat, he noticed an audible panting coming from the back seat.  When he

looked in the rear-view mirror, `Maid Marion's' expression hadn't changed

a bit, although he saw that her eyes were wide, as if she had been startled

or excited by something, and was trying to hide it.  He thought about the

two of them enjoying each other in the back seat while he had been packing

arm loads of rubberwear upstairs.  It bothered him to think he might have

to share Mandy's attentions with some one else, but then... it also excited

him to think of the two women screwing in tight, shiny, and sweaty latex

outfits, too.

 

     He realized he was holding a double standard.  That bothered him too,

since he'd always thought of himself as open minded.  Now he knew how

difficult it could really be to be TRULY open minded.  He resolved not to

show his discomfort with the two women's relationship until he had had time

to think it over, and perhaps, get to know the mystery woman in the maid's

uniform.

 

     "It really bugs you that Marion and I are lovers, doesn't it?" asked

Mandy.

 

     Shit, thought Jason.  So much for keeping secrets.  "Am I that

transparent?"  he asked her.

 

     "I'd claim it was all women's intuition, but I don't think I have any.

I caught a glimpse of you at the top of the stairs, and I just watched your

face when you got into the car.  You were looking pretty stoic, kind of

overly nonchalant, so I guessed."

 

     "Yeah, I guess I was...well, AM a little bugged," admitted Jason.

"Must be the way I was raised."  He looked sheepishly at the floor, letting

the engine idle while they talked.

 

     "Thought so.  Usually, I'd give you my standard half-hour lecture

about bisexuality, but I know you, and it would be an insult to your

intelligence.  I'm going to assume that you will find a way to deal with

it, because if you can't, you can NOT be a part of my life."

 

     Jason looked very thoughtful as he put the car into gear, and they

accelerated down the street.  After they were on the highway again, he

asked, "So, where is this retreat of yours, my dear?"

 

     Mandy, who was once again in the front seat retorted, "Hah!  I'm not

your dear yet!  You still haven't passed my tests, survived my trials, fair

knight."

 

     Jason shot her a glance. She wore a wry grin and a twinkle in her eye.

"All right lady, you win.  Just point me to the sword in the stone, and

I'll do my best."

 

     "That's the spirit!  Ok, just take 276 south to Morton Road..."

 

     Sometime later, by then nearly three in the morning, they pulled into

a gravel lane, shaded by huge oaks.  A metal box set into the massive brick

gate post on Jason's side of the drive required him to punch in a

combination which Mandy gave him, to open the massive wrought iron gate.

 

     "Jeee-zus!  What are you doing for a living these days?  You didn't

tell me you were loaded now."

 

     "You didn't ask.  I'm sorry to say that I didn't earn all of it.  My

father passed away several years ago, leaving me his company holdings and

enough liquid assets to build this place."

 

     "I'm sorry, I didn't know.  If there's..."

 

     "Oh, it's alright.  It was sudden and painless.  In any case, I made

quite a bit on my own in the market, but the inheritance allowed me to

retire earlier, and with quite a bit more income.  I really don't have an

interest in business anymore, so I have accountants and lawyers run the

consulting firm.  I get about half of the profits.  It lets me pursue my

interests in privacy and comfort, and if I'm careful with my funds, I can

almost live extravagantly."

 

     Driving up the lane revealed a large and picturesque cottage style

country house.  It was completely dark, not a single light in any of the

windows.

 

     "You two live here alone?" Jason asked, "You should at least leave a

light on."

 

     "Oh, there are burglar alarms.  Not to mention Charlemagne and Attila.

Watch."

 

     As they pulled up in front of the stone porch, a deep, loud barking

began, and several flood lights kicked on, illuminating the entire front

lawn.

 

     "You see: the latest electronic wizardry -- anything that ignores the

warning signs, climbs that iron fence has to face the lights and then

Charley and 'Tilla.  Two huge Rottweillers appeared at a dead run,

surrounding the car.  Mandy rolled down the window, commanding, "Charley!

'Tilla!  Make friends.  Heel!"  The dogs came off of alert, and meekly sat

down on her side of the car.  "It's alright, you can get out now," she told

Jason.

 

     "O-K, I'm convinced, you don't need to leave a light on," replied

Jason, nervously eyeing the dogs as he pulled the bags from the trunk. They

watched him constantly, but never moved.  While man-handling the trunks up

the stairs, he took advantage of his position to watch `Maid Marion's'

muscular bottom wriggling within a pair of tight black latex briefs under

her short rubber skirt.  Very shortly, he was having trouble walking again.

 

     When they were all inside, and Jason had finished ooh-ing and aah-ing

over the opulent front hall, they moved into the adjacent library where he

collapsed into an overstuffed leather chair.  Maid Marion remained standing

just inside the room.  He took a moment to drink in the sight of the black

and white latex maid's uniform. Now, in the better light of the house, it

looked even better than before.  The second-skin bustier covered her

completely up to the neck, where a frilly Elizabethen collar topped the

outfit.  He saw that her white doily apron was also made from rubber,

although it had a softer, mat finish.  The rest of her uniform was polished

to a high gloss.  She had quite a curvaceous and well -endowed figure, too.

Although her bust was not as spectacular as Mandy's, much of that must have

been due to Mandy's outrageous bullet-bra corset-jacket.  The perfect fit

of both their costumes was emphasized by the highlights thrown on the skin

tight material by the overhead lights.  He wondered what it felt like to

have breasts with sensitive nipples rubbing within the lovely, stretchy

stuff.

 

     It was to be only a few days before he found out.

 

     In an attempt to start the conversation again, Jason exclaimed, "Whew!

That chest was heavy.  Do you by any chance have something cold and wet for

a man dying of thirst?  If you'll point me toward the bar..."

 

     "Just a minute."  Mandy was doing something at the maids collar.  "I

promised I'd take Flo... uh, Marion's mask off as soon as we got home...

There!" she exclaimed, and with a flourish, removed the dark wig from the

maid's head.

 

     "Mask?" Jason queried, "But she's not wearing..."

 

     "Shush!  Watch and learn," she admonished.  She pulled at the maids

neck, and began peeling a strip of flesh colored tape from the other

woman's neck.  Beneath it were fine, closely spaced laces running up the

back of her head!  As these were loosened, Jason it became clear what had

been wrong with the woman's eyes.  Her head was completely enclosed in a

skin-tight thin rubber sheath, molded and colored to closely immitate a

woman's head and face.  With makeup over it, it had looked quite natural.

Only the hapless woman's eyes had shown through carefully shaped holes in

the face.  As Mandy peeled the hood off the woman's head to the front, a

pretty, young face was revealed.

 

     "Jason, allow me to introduce Flora, my house mate."



                            - Chapter 5 -

 

     Jason looked on in amazement as Mandy gently removed a rubber balloon

gag from Flora's mouth, and finished removing the mask.  Her real face was

remarkably similar to the face of the mask, although a little

flushed-looking.  Jason guessed that the mask had been molded from her

actual features.

 

     Flora blinked, sputtered and licked her lips several times. "Ahh.

Roowaah.  Christ, Mandy, did you have to leave it on so long?  I thought

I'd die of thirst!"  Jason stared as Mandy finished removing Flora's

restraints.  Flora had quite a pretty face, if not quite up to covergirl

standards, and the tight rubber maids' dress emphasized her hourglass

figure.  "Incredible!" he murmured.

 

     "Oh, this is nothing," Mandy said, "we've done things much more

interesting, haven't we, my dear?"  Flora blushed.

 

     "Umm, Flora, you must be pretty brave to wear a rubber mask like that

for so long," Jason commented, "it must have been very uncomfortable."

 

     Flora smiled.  "A little, but I don't mind.  After a while, my face

does get a little numb, but that's okay.  Actually, this one fits like a

second skin.  A friend of Mandy's makes latex masks for the movie industry,

you know- zombies and such.  He made this one for us.  And believe me, I've

worn much more uncomfortable things.  I'm actually a bit of a pig when it

comes to hoods and helmets.  It feels good to have my head wrapped in a

tight rubber hood.  I can't explain it," she finished lamely.  "Of course,"

she added, "Mandy knows I like them, so she's always trying to make them

more difficult to wear."

 

     "OR... I just leave her in it for eight hours or so," Mandy put in.

"If it's a severe enough hood, that usually wears down her resistance."

She got up from the couch.  "Why don't you fix us some drinks, Flora, while

I ahh, slip into something more comfortable, as they say."  She disappeared

up the stairs.

 

     While Flora got creative with ethanol and ice, Jason looked around the

paneled sitting room.  "This is really quite some place you have here.

Mandy's father must have had quite a flair for luxury."

 

     "Oh no, he had nothing to do with it.  This is entirely her own

creation," she answered.  She minced over to him with the drinks, giving

him an excellent lesson in the difficulty of walking in stiletto heels.

"It's quite decadent really.  We have several bedroom suites, a hot-tub, a

sauna, a recreation room, and Mandy's added some very comfy refinements,

like this library.  There are reading nooks all over the house, too.  We're

both book worms, I'm afraid.  We've been very happy here."

 

     "You didn't look very happy when she took that mask off you," he

countered.

 

     "Oh, that's just part of the game," she said.  "I can't admit that I

didn't really mind whatever she's done to me, or she'll just try to make it

worse the next time."  She looked shyly at the floor.  "I like being in that

sort of costume," she said and looked up into his eyes.  "And I gather you

do too."

 

     "Uh, well, I'm not into wearing dresses, if that's what you mean, but,

yeah."  I've been into rubber and latex for... well for a long time.  You

see, I wasn't shocked at your outfit, just the mask.  It's some kind of

bondage helmet, isn't it?  I've seen them in magazines, but I thought that

was just for sado...  sadomasochists.  I mean, you guys aren't into pain

are you?"

 

     Flora looked amused.  "Weeelll, I'm not really into the heavy whipping

and stuff, but a little discomfort, fr'instance, if it's part of bondage, I

don't mind at all.  And minor pain, like... well, anyway, minor pain is

okay, it kind of reminds you that you're alive, and that you're playing

with power.  Sure, Mandy and I, we do some pretty wild things.  Some things

that might shock you."

 

     "But you're not into say, whipping?"

 

     "The closest I ever came to REAL pain were my piercings, and they were

over so fast, I hardly felt it."

 

     Jason gave her a blank look. "Piercings?" he inquired.

 

     She smiled and licked her lips.  "I'll show you sometime, if I can.

I'd show you now, but Mandy's got me locked in this damned chastity belt."

 

     Jason looked shocked.  "Chastity belt!  That's so Victorian!  Surely

she doesn't mean to keep you from, from..." he trailed off, embarassed.  He

realized that the drink was loosening his tongue, and he'd have to be

careful.

 

     Flora looked slyly sideways at him.  "Oh don't be such a prude.  I

don't know how long you knew Mandy, but she's changed since you guys were

kids.  She's just not that impressed with most men.  She says she wants to

keep me for herself, and frankly, I don't mind.  Most men are such... well,

prudes when it comes to dressing for pleasure.  As far as they're

concerned, dressing kinky is just dressing sexy, so it's fine for women,

but otherwise, it's for `sissies'.  And then there's the macho attitude of

most males... phooey."

 

     Jason noticed her shifting her weight back and forth a bit, her hips

swaying in a slightly provacative manner.  He tried to concentrate on the

topic at hand.  "Uh, she doesn't seem to mind me," he said.  "You know, we

go back a long way, Mandy and I.  She's the reason I got into the rubber

thing in the first place."

 

     "Okay, I have to admit it," Flora said. "Mandy's told me all about

you.  I got kind of jealous, for a while, because she was tracking you

down, planning...well, I'm not sure what she was planning.  Anyway, except

for a few twinges of jealousy, I've really been looking forward to meeting

you.  Mandy said that when you guys met, back in high school, wasn't it?

that she wasn't really kinky yet- that she just liked dressing sexy.  I

guess her parents were very kinky though- it's no surprise she is the way

she is."

 

     Jason smiled.  "She is a very pursuasive woman," he observed.  Flora

seemed to want to talk, so he'd let her.  Moreover, she seemed to be going

somewhere with the topic, and he was curious where she would end up.

 

     "She completely subverted me, that's for sure!  When we met, my idea

of dressing for pleasure was solely based on looks- what you could buy from

Frederick's.  I thought that kinky meant oral sex.  Everything she's

introduced me to, I've loved!  Every so often though, she'd mention you.

Maybe you don't realize it, but I think that deep down inside, she really

fell hard for you."

 

     "Yeah, well, I can tell you I was pretty crushed when she had to move

to DC," Jason replied. "She seemed almost indifferent, though."

 

     "Don't sell her short!  She's a very tough lady, and she's great at

hiding her true feelings."

 

     "Um.  Well, I'm flattered that she thought of me," Jason said.  "And

may I say, that I am very glad to have met you, too.  Do you have any idea

how rare it is to find women with fetishes like this?  Most of us rubber

nuts are men."

 

     Flora smiled, looking up through her eyelashes at him, and closing the

distance between them.  She seemed to be shifting her weight quite a lot

now, as if something was making her nervous.  "You're the first man who

really liked our costumes for themselves," she said, "not just because they

were on a female body.  That's very refreshing, at least from my point of

view.  As for this damn chastity belt, it's actually quite nice at first,

but it gets to be distracting after a while."  She licked her lips slowly

and deliberately.

 

     "I should say so," said Jason, taking her hands in his.  "You've

certainly been distracting me for some time now.  How do you think _I_

feel?  I get turned on this way too, you know, and I've been wearing these

tight latex knickers for half a day now."

 

     Her only answer was to take one of his hands in hers, smiling at him.

Jasons eyes grew wide as she pulled one of his hands under the flounces of

her rubber skirt.  "What if she comes back?" he whispered.  She ignored

him, pressing his hand into her crotch.  "Flora!" he whispered fiercely, if

Mandy finds us like this..."  Her eyes were closed.  Jason's hand touched

something hard and smooth beneath the concealing folds of the rubber.

 

     She ignored his questions.  "See?" she breathed.  "It completely

covers the important parts, like a girdle.  It's made of rawhide leather,

molded to me while it was wet, then dried and laminated with latex."  With

his hand pressed under hers, she was moving the front of the chastity belt

up and down slightly, probably all the movement the tight-fitting appliance

would allow.

 

     She leaned forward to whisper some more, her breath hot and moist in

his ear.  "But it's not unpleasant to wear, oh no.  You see, Mandy...ahh...

didn't want me to get bored, so she installed a pair of thick rubber

dildoes in it, and there are...mmmm.... a bunch of little rubber fingers

right over my clit.  Ohh, I can't quite...ah, damn!" she exclaimed softly.

"It's just barely too tight to let me get off."

 

     "Incredible," Jason sighed, "no wonder you seemed distracted at the

party."  Her panting in his ear, and the feel of this strange hardness

between her legs had really worked him over.  Despite his determination to

remain a gentleman, he had become equally determined to obtain release,

whether with Flora or with Mandy, at this point he hardly cared.

 

     "It's really trouble when I move," she said, "I can ignore it when I'm

sitting.  When I want to, that is."  She squirmed her derrier around for

his amusement.  "Of course, I couldn't hear well, or say anything at the

party, because of the mask and gag. I felt wonderfully helpless, and seeing

you in those pants made me horny as hell.  You have great buns, you know."

 

     She began massaging his crotch through his rubber jeans.  Jason was

worrying that he might cum in his pants when they heard footsteps coming

down the stairs.

 

     "I'll visit you tonight," Flora whispered, and gave his ear a parting

nibble before she moved away from him to sit in one of the reading chairs.

 

     "I hope you two are getting on alright," Mandy called out from the

landing.  She winked at Jason as she walked in the room.  "She hasn't

molested you too badly I hope.  You've only just got here, and I'm sure

you're tired after all that booze and dancing."

 

     Jason could say nothing in reply, he just stared.  His high school

love had been transformed.  Before him stood five feet and ten inches of

full-flowered womanhood.  She had donned a complex-looking catsuit of white

patent leather that completely covered her body except for her face.  Her

head was covered by the attached hood, fitted skin-tight, that laced at the

sides, the lacing continuing down along the sides of her neck, disappearing

under her cape.  The lines of lacing re-appeared from under her arms, and

curved inward along matching graceful lines to pass over the hips and down

the front of her legs to her toes, laced tightly all the way down.  Her

cupped breasts peeked out from the folds of a floor-length black latex cape

with a high-backed 'Dracula' style collar.  "How do you like it?" she

asked.

 

     Jason was floored.  She looked like something out of one of his wet

dreams.  He had seen catsuits like this in a European fetish magazine, but

having her here, walking around, talking to him...it was hard to believe

after all his lonely years.

 

     "It's... it's wonderful!" he stammered.  "You look like...scratch

that.  You ARE a goddess.  You look as if you'd been poured into it.  My

god, Mandy, you've really outdone yourself.  I guess, I guess I hadn't

realized until now that you've become a woman.  All these years I've

remembered you as a high school girl, and now... well, you're a very

beautiful woman, Mandy."

 

     She glowed at his worshipful praise, removed the cape, and pirouetted

for them.  Jason saw that the suit was tightly laced down the arms, and at

the front and back of the waist, as well.  In fact, he recognized boning in

that waist- it had a built in corset!  It pulled her figure into a

fantastic hour-glass shape.  The breast cups of the suit were hand-tooled

to resemble nude breasts with the nipples standing out.  The boots had five

inch heels and were part of the suit, laced tightly from the toes to the

tops of her thighs, where they joined smoothly at the hip.  There was some

kind of black fitting nestled in her crotch, but he couldn't figure out

what it was.

 

     "Really, Mandy, it's the nicest outfit you own," Flora added, "you

know I love to see it on you.  But you should have asked me to help, I know

how difficult those laces are."

 

     "I managed, as you can see," Mandy replied primly.  "I'm glad you like

it, Jason," she added, heading for the bar.  She picked up her drink and

sniffed it.  "Stolychnaya? " she inquired of Flora.

 

     "Of course.  With white pepper, the way you like it.  Shall we toast

our guest, mistress?"

 

     "But yes!" Mandy exclaimed, "Here's to Jason, may his latex never lose

its shine, and may he love all that he learns here!"

 

     Mandy drained the slender vodka glass at a gulp and sighed.  "Ahh!

That hits the spot.  Oh! Jason, you have to call your office, remember?

You promised you'd stay for a week."

 

     Jason looked thoughtful.  "I tell you what," he said, "after what I've

just seen, I know how I want to spend my vacation.  I'm going to take two

weeks off, if it's alright with you."

 

     "Of course it's alright with us!  Don't be silly.  Oh, damn.  You

can't call now, it's four in the morning, and tomorrow's Saturday.  Can you

call in early Monday morning?"

 

     "No problem, I can just leave a message with the answering service.

I'm kind of my own department anyway, and I finished my last coding project

a week ago.  Where's your phone?"

 

     When Jason had made the call, Mandy took him by an arm, and indicated

that Flora should take the other.

 

     "Well, Jason, would you like the nickel tour or do you just want to

sack out?  I imagine you're eager to see your bed after the long day you've

had."

 

     Jason tore his eyes away from her figure.  "Why ah, yes! Thanks!  A

bed would be good," he managed to say.  They trooped up the wide, curving

front staircase, three abreast.

 

     At the end of a teak-paneled hallway, she opened a set of ornate

double doors. "These will be your rooms.  Bathroom on the left, wardrobe

and dressers on the right.  Oh, and there's a surprise on the bed, it's

just for special occasions, we can change them for satin later.  Flora will

get your bags.  I'll be back later to check on you."  She paused in the

hall, one hand still on the doorframe.  "Oh, and if you need anything, I'd

rather you didn't go wandering around...just use the bell pull there."  She

nodded toward a tassled embroidered tape, hanging next to the bed.

 

     When they had left, Jason wandered around his room, bemused by it's

lavish appointments.  Rather than closets, a huge cherry armoir took up

most of one wall, with an equally large matching chest of drawers on the

oppposite wall.

 

     The walls were hung with burgundy velvet curtains, the floor was

carpeted with a deep pile in the same color, and the french four-poster bed

was hung with more velvet curtains.  The place looked like a sultan's

palace!  Wondering what the surprise was, he inspected the bed. He was

delighted to find it covered in sheets of soft amber latex rubber topped by

a thick comforter of shiny black latex.  He wondered how he'd ever get to

sleep in sheets like that.  He noticed that the upstairs was a little on

the chill side, though, and he hoped it would be enough to keep him from

sweating badly in all that rubber.

 

     Flora trudged in, puffing, with his trunk and valise.  "You'll have to

unpack yourself, I'm afraid, the mistress wants her bath about now."  She

lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'll be back later."  She gave him a quick

taste of her tongue and a brief squeeze at his crotch and was gone, leaving

only the memory of her rubber-covered breasts pressing against him.  Jason

stood bewildered in the middle of his room for a moment, and then began to

unpack.

 

     He decided to make use of the drawers and the wardrobe, and began

carefully folding and stowing what he'd brought, both the kinky and the

mundane.  He noticed one of the drawers was locked.  When he'd finished,

and was ready for bed, it was almost an hour later.  Since she hadn't

showed up yet, he decided to look for Mandy to ask what time they usually

got up.  Forgetting her warning about "wandering around", he headed out to

explore.  At a door half way down the hall, he stopped, hearing soft moans

from within.  Not really wanting to peep, he did anyway, peeking past the

half-open door.  It was obvious where the noise was coming from, but it

took him a few moments to figure out exactly what was going on.  It was a

bizarre scene.

 

     Mandy was sitting astride what looked like a child's wooden

'rocking-horse', although few children had hobby horses like this one.

Flora was strapped into a harness under the seat, inside the open-frame

"body" of the horse, her body arched back, and her legs bound to the

rockers in a kneeling position.  Her arms were laced behind her into a

tight leather armbinder which was attached to the harness at her waist.

Her head was laced into a tight leather helmet the face of which was

attached to the bottom of the saddle.  Unable to move, she was forced to

service her mistress as she rocked back and forth.

 

     Mandy was moaning again.  "Yes, give me your tongue, you little slut,"

she husked.  Jason was shocked.  Flora was moaning too, and from her sounds

might have been enjoying the proceedings as much as Mandy.  Mandy was still

wearing the white leather bootsuit, and for a moment Jason wondered how she

could be enjoying it so much.  Then he remembered the unexplained crotch

fitting he had seen earlier.  It must be a removable patch, he thought.

 

     Presently, Mandy finished and rose from her seat, breathing hard,

flushed and smiling.  Jason thought that to be a prudent moment to leave,

and returned as quickly and quietly as he could to his room.

 

                                   -=*=-

 

     Jason lay in bed between latex sheets, somewhat stunned.  He wasn't

exactly offended by what he'd seen, rather to his surprise he was terribly

aroused.  His hand moved unconsciously to his cock.  He had wanted to join

them.  He imagined himself in Flora's place, and he wondered at this,

because it excited him terribly.  He drifted off to sleep hearing Mandy's

cries of lust in his mind.

 

     When Jason awoke, it was pitch black, and for a moment, he knew only

that he was NOT in his own bed.  Then the events of the day came back to

him.  He lay still for a moment, wondering what had awakened him.

 

     "Jason?" a disembodied voice called softly.

 

     Dimly, her realized he knew that voice, but couldn't place it.  "Who's

there?" he asked, reaching for the bedside lamp.

 

     The figure revealed in the sudden light made him wonder if he was

still dreaming.  A totally hairless android with large, high-set breasts

and a slender waist stood next to the bed.

 

     "It's me, Flora," she said.  She turned on the other bedside lamp.

Jason stared as she climbed into the bed.  He moved over clumsily.  "How do

I look?" she asked.

 

     Finally he realized that she was wearing a catsuit.  A catsuit of

pinkish-tan, flesh-colored rubber that completely covered her from head to

toe.  Her hair was apparently concealed beneath the skin-tight hood

attached to the suit.  He wondered for a moment how she had room for her

hair under that form-fitting hood.  She looked delicious.  "You look

delicious," he said.

 

     She slithered up his body.  Hugging him and wrapping her legs closely

around his.  "Delicious enough to eat?" she asked.  He nodded silently.

She turned around to face his feet, and pulling a zipper at her crotch,

promptly sat on his face.  Jason was delighted to find that no chastity

belt barred the way now.  He took a deep breath and dove in.  Then

immediately drew back.  There was hardware in there!  In the soft light of

the reading lamps he could see several metal rings gleaming within her sex.

They were silver colored, about 1/2 an inch in diameter, and very sturdy

looking.  There were five pierced through each labia!  He had never seen

anything like it.

 

     It struck him as primitive... alien... and bizarre.  It turned him on.

 

     There was another gold ring, larger and thicker than the others,

through her clitoris.  He put his tongue through it, and tugged

experimentally.  She moaned and pushed his head into the pillows with her

sex.

 

     "Mandy removed my chastity belt as a reward for being nice to her,"

she murmured.  "Mmmm, I'll tell you about it later.  That feels very nice,

you know."  She unbuttoned his pyjama pants.  He was very hard, his cock

jerking back and forth slightly with his pulse.  She slowly licked the

length of his shaft, then engulfed him.

 

     Flora turned out to have a mouth as skilled as it was luscious in

appearance, but all Jason could think of was the rocking horse and it

wasn't Flora anymore but Mandy moving across his face, and he imagined his

arms immobilized as Flora's had been, Mandy's sex pushing through the

opening in her leather suit, and he was Flora, and.. and.. they came almost

simultaneously, Jason stifling a shout at the last second.  After resting a

bit, Flora rolled off of him, cuddling up next to him, surrounding him with

rubber-covered arms and legs.  "I hope you don't mind taking a break,

love," she said dreamily, "I'm so tired..."

 

     But Jason wasn't listening to her or anyone else.

 

     The next time Jason awoke, it was to the sound of angry, but muted

voices.  Mandy was shoving Flora out the door.  "..and I'll deal with you

later!" she hissed.

 

     Jason sat up in bed.  Mandy looked stern for a moment, but then her

face softened suddenly, and she said, "Boys will be boys.  Breakfast is

ready, sleepyhead, why don't you shower and dress and meet us downstairs?"

 

     Jason was completely confused. "But... hey, it's not like you think..

I mean..."

 

     "Don't you worry your gorgeous head about it.  You'll be too busy with

my trials today to think of anything else.  See you downstairs!"  She

closed the door behind her.

 

     Jason was dumbfounded.  He'd really fouled things up last night by

letting Flora remain in his bed, and now Mandy was acting weird.  I hope

the rest of the week isn't like this, he thought.  When he had finished

showering and shaving, he decided to surprise Mandy by wearing a new silk

bathrobe down to breakfast.  But no sooner had he stepped from the

bathroom, than something dark and heavy came whooshing down over his head,

as Mandy's voice cried, "Gotcha!".

 

     She had pulled some kind of bag over his head.  "Hey!" he shouted,

"What the...!"  He struggled to get it off, but it covered him to his hips,

and he couldn't get a purchase from the inside.  "No fair, dammit! Mandy,

let me out of here!  I'll get you for this, wench!"

 

     Mandy huffed and puffed as she hurried to buckle straps over the

outside.  She paused when she had him fairly secure.  "Wench is it? You're

in no position to be insulting, bucko!  I'll teach you to screw the maid

behind my back!"  She laughed and pulled a strap up through his crotch.

"OW!" he exclaimed, "be careful!  What are you trying to pull?"  Mandy

smiled and exclaimed, "I'm pulling this!"  She tightened another leather

strap.  "And this!", another strap.  "And this!" another.  Inside the bag,

Jason was running out of room to struggle.  He could hardly move his arms

now, and his breath came in gasps.  The interior smelled strongly of

leather.

 

     "Let me out, PLEASE," he wheezed, "I'll smother!"  Fresh air and light

streamed in through a sudden opening.  He saw Mandy's smiling face through

the zipper as she said, "Now we can't have you suffocating, can we?  Since

you demonstrated your eagerness with Flora, I've decided to start your

training a little early."  She snugged up another strap, taking the last of

the slack out of the body binder.

 

     "Training? What is this training stuff you keep babbling about?" Jason

demanded.

 

     "Why, don't you remember?  You promised to endure any trial,

accomplish any task, in order to win my love.  This is your first trial.

You may as well go along with it, as you haven't much choice now, have

you?"

 

     Oh shit, thought Jason, she's gone off the rails.  His thoughts ran

screaming in little circles.  He had to admit, he was stuck.  He wondered

whether she'd let him go if he played along for a while.  Then he could

escape.  But he wanted her like anything, and would have done anything for

her even now.  Besides, he couldn't escape right now.  He could no longer

move his arms, and the straps through his crotch prevented him shrugging

off the... bag or whatever it was.  It covered his head too, and as she

talked, she did something that tightened that too, the leather compressing

his face and head tightly.  He sighed.  It was difficult now, to even open

his mouth.  "All right," he mumbled through the leather, "I'll go along

with it."

 

     Mandy snorted.  "As if you had any choice."  She turned him to look in

the bathroom mirror.  "Now aren't you a pretty package?" she asked.

 

     He looked at his reflection.  He was bound in a torso-shaped leather

binder, like a straight jacket without sleeves.  It covered him from his

head to his hips.  Several heavy leather straps across the back and sides

pulled it tight, and two straps went throught the crotch to buckle in back.

He stared out through a zipper in the attached helmet.  His arms had been

forced up to cross in front of his chest.  He couldn't budge anything above

his hips.  Mandy fondled his cock for a moment, and despite himself, he

found himself growing hard.  Then she shoved him toward the bed.

 

     "Why don't you just rest here while I see to Flora?"  She gave him a

shove.  He fell helplessly to the mattress. To his surprise, she bent over

and kissed his eyes. Then she closed the zipper, shutting off his vision.

He heard rustling clothes and a moment later she undid the zip over his

mouth.

 

     "Here, my love, you can chew on my panties while you're waiting," she

said, and stuffed a wad of satin into his mouth.  He sputtered and tried to

object, but she pushed until his mouth was full and closed the zipper.  He

immediately tried to spit it out, but the helmet was too tight over his

mouth.  He forced himself to breath calmly through his nose.  Seconds

later, he heard the door close.  Well, damn!  He thought, what have I got

myself into?  This bitch is nuts!  How am I going to get out of this?  He

struggled again, but it was no use trying to free his arms.  Already they

ached somewhat from their cramped positions.  He thought of getting to his

feet and trying to get out, but then realized his true situation.  Where

could he get to without being able to see?  He didn't know the layout of

the house, and then outside, there were those huge dogs.

 

     All he could do was wait, helpless, with the smell of leather in his

nostrils, and the musky taste of Mandy in his mouth.

 

     Lying on her bed, Flora told herself it had been worth it, but then

she remembered that no matter how much Mandy might enjoy a threesome, she

still had a jealous streak, and Flora knew she would use this latest

"offense" as an excuse for another long punishment session.  Flora was both

addicted to and terrified of these sessions.  Mandy's idea of punishment

was usually a combination of erotic stimulation, frustration, and

uncomfortable, even painful discipline.  If Mandy misjudged and Flora came,

she "tortured" her and tried again, until she got it right.  It was a

strange combination of reward and punishment and it usually pushed Flora to

her limits.

 

     She won't really hurt me, Flora thought, she's spiteful and

capricious, but her 'torture' is always erotic and friendly, right?  She

wouldn't do anything...

 

     The door flew open with a bang.  "Hello, Flora," Mandy said softly.

Her grim smile gave Flora no comfort.  She stood framed in the doorway, a

vision in gleaming black leather and rubber.  It was her 'punishment

uniform', Flora knew.  Mandy wore a chrome-studded patent leather brassiere

with pointy, cone-shaped cups, a short black rubber miniskirt and knee-high

laced boots of red patent leather with 4 inch spike heels.  She had a bulky

black bundle in one hand.

 

     "Take off your suit," she ordered, still standing in the doorway.

 

     Flora still had on the thin latex catsuit she had visited Jason in.

She peeled it off her sweating skin and stood shivering slightly in the

chill morning air.  Mandy was apparently unimpressed by the fact that

Flora's hair seemed to be missing, for Flora was bald as a cue-ball!

Clean-shaven and shining, the effect was rather exotic, strangely

beautiful.

 

     "Put this on," Mandy said next, throwing the bundle at Flora.  Flora

caught the garment and examined it.  Mandy moved to close the window

through which the breeze came.

 

     This was something new.  Mandy had both their measurements, and was

always sending orders for new costume and equipment creations to the rubber

and leather specialists in Europe and England.  This one appeared to be a

very long, heavily boned panty corselet.  Incredibly, it was made out of

1/8" thick rubber, and the boning was so stiff, she could hardly bend it.

She opened the front busk and shuddered when she looked inside.  The heavy

rubber briefs that made up the lower half were fitted with a formidably

large dildo and an almost equally large butt plug.  In front of the dildo,

the briefs were lined with a narrow panel of 1/2" rubber fingers.  She

turned it over.  The waist section was cut severely small and the molded

breast cups were lined with more little rubber warts.  The garment would

cover the entire torso up to the jawline with a high collar, stiffened with

more boning.  The corset section had the usual laces for tightening it up

the back, with more over the tops of the shoulders and at the neck, too.

And there were what looked like two small swivel joints riveted to the back

at hip height.

 

     Everywhere she looked on it, there was some other little feature

intended to torment the wearer.  The purpose of some things were not

immediately apparent.  There was a heavy rubber tube or hose, glued along

the back from top to bottom.  There was also a threaded metal stud attached

at the crotch under the dildo.  She couldn't fathom what either of those

was for.  And frankly, the whole thing looked a little small, even for her

slender figure.  She shuddered, and looked up at Mandy.



                            - Chapter 6 -

 

     Mandy walked over.  "Here, you'll need this."  She handed Flora a

hospital -size tube of KY jelly.  Flora lubricated the dildo, the butt-plug

and herself and moved as if to put it on.

 

     "No," interrupted Mandy, "do all of the inside and coat yourself,

too...  thoroughly."

 

     Flora obeyed, spreading the slimey goo liberally over the inside of

the corselet, and then all over herself.  When her torso was completely

coated in the glistening goo, she stepped into the garment and started

pulling it on.  With both her hands and the rubber covered with lubricant,

it took several tries to get the dildo in, while Mandy unhelpfully stood

by, watching with a most unhelpful and predatory smile on her face.  The

rubber dong seemed to be pushing into her stomach when she got it fully

seated.  It took even longer for the butt plug, to allow her rear to relax,

and she was panting with arousal before it was over.  She gasped as it slid

home, and her sphincter closed over the constriction.

 

     Mandy still stood silently watching, neither helping nor criticizing.

 

     Next Flora slipped her hands through the arm-holes, and her breasts

slithered into place.  Her nipples hardened further at the first caresses

of the ribbed rubber cups.  She had to struggle to get the front busk

closed, even though the back laces were loostened completely.  She sent

imploring looks at Mandy, which were ignored.  Finally, she got the last

fastener hooked and she relaxed slightly, her torso slipping around a

little inside her steel and rubber prison.

 

     The next thing Mandy handed her was a pair of thigh length boots, made

from very shiny patent leather.  They had six inch spike heels, and they

laced from toe to hip.  She sat down on the bed and put them on.  Even

un-laced, the corselet was so unyielding she had a hard time bending over

to lace the boots.  The only thing that made it possible at all was that

the boning ended just over the hips, allowing her to bend at the hips

slightly, although she had to keep her back very straight, or the

compression against her belly would make it impossible to breathe.

 

     Eventually, however, the boots were laced to Mandy's satisfaction,

which meant very tightly, and without wrinkles.

 

     Flora stood up and walked about a bit, unsteadily, but successfully.

She had gotten a lot of practice at walking in very high heels, over the

last several years.  The fact that she was tall, with somewhat long feet

for a woman helped a great deal.  The dildos macking up and inside her did

not help her concentration, however.  Nor did the little rubber fingers

stimulating her nipples every time she twisted or turned, help.  And it was

getting increasingly hard to ignore the bits that fingered her clit and

labia and their rings.

 

     "All right, I'll take it from here," said Mandy.  She took Flora by

both hands and walked her over to an old-style corset 'lacing bar'.  This

was a simple bar hung from the ceiling that one grasped over your head in

order to lift the breasts while a corset was laced.  This one had leather

cuffs added which Mandy buckled onto Flora's wrists.  When she hauled on

the rope, it pulled Flora's arms over her head, eventually forcing her to

stand very straight to prevent an uncomfortable tension on her wrists and

shoulders.

 

     Mandy began lacing the corset closed.  K-Y jelly slurped and oozed out

as the corset's intimate grip tightened.  After completing one pass, she

stopped and left the room, while Flora squirmed uncomfortably.  In moments

Mandy returned, with a motor massager strapped onto her hand.  She applied

this to Flora's crotch a few times, passed it over her breasts.  Flora

hummed softly with delight.  When she started to wiggle in ernest, Mandy

stopped and sat down.  After a while, she started lacing again, pulling

harder now this time, until again, she took a break to allow Flora's waist

and innards time to adapt to their new shape.  Once again, she applied the

massager, stopping as soon as Flora showed signs of an approaching orgasm.

This time, she broke her silence.

 

     "Please, Mandy!  This is too much!  Let me come, just once, please!"

 

     Mandy just smiled.  Again she tightened the laces, the eyelet rows

slowly closing, even planting her knee in Flora's back for leverage.  Flora

gasped.  This was the worst corset she had ever worn!  She could feel her

waist compressing, her lubricated skin sliding under the slippery rubber to

conform to its new shape.  The rigid, straight back of the corset began to

pull her into a more erect posture.  This caused her breasts to re-adjust

their positions within the lubricated cups, which she had to admit, felt

wonderful.

 

     Mandy paused for breath, sat down and addressed her slave and lover.

"What do you think of your new clothes, Flora dear?"

 

     Flora tried to sound enthusiastic, but in truth the dildoes and the

fiendish rubber fingers, combined with the delicious compression of her

torso were distracting her beyond her ability to fight.  "It's uhh, very

nice, mistress.  I unngh, like it very much."  She shuddered with

excitement, unable to obtain release.

 

     "Good!  You'll like your new waistline, too, I'm sure."  Mandy again

bent to her task.  She pulled and heaved, until at last the eyelets met.

She tied off the laces, rolled them up, and then zipped closed a flap which

covered the lacing smoothly.  She produced a tape measure and announced,

"Nineteen inches- Beautiful!  That's probably about eighteen under the

rubber.  Now don't go anywhere without me," she said, and left the room.

She returned moments later with several pieces of chromed metal tubing and

an assortment of complicated looking hardware.

 

     Oh shit, thought Flora.  Alex has built another one of his infernal

contraptions.  I wonder what this one is going to do to me?

 

     Mandy slid the longest tube, which was about five feet long, into the

reinforced rubber tube cemented to the back of the body shaper.  She forced

Flora to stand ramrod straight, in order to get the pipe in.  This was

rather uncomfortable, for the human back has a natural curve in it, and

Flora's relaxed posture was not the best.

 

     The next piece, about 2 feet long, was slid over the first, at the

bottom, with a slip joint.  At each end of this cross-piece was a ball

joint fixed to a leather cuff.  These she buckled around Floras ankles.

Next she threaded a long thin rod into the threaded stud at Flora's crotch.

This rod reached the ankle crosspiece, where it was clamped rigidly to the

center.  Now, any movement up or down by either foot would thrust the dildo

in or out.  Further, any movement forward or back would twist the dildo

back and forth.

 

     The next piece of tubing, shaped like a `T', fitted into the top of

the vertical tube where it emerged from the rubber.  It was equipped with

leather straps attached behind each shoulder, with a swivel-joint at each

end.  Mandy fastened the straps around each shoulder, through the arm-pit.

  

     She paused again to put the massager on Flora's breasts for a few

seconds, just to maintain her interest.  Flora moaned, squirming as much as

she could, (which wasn't much) within the confining garment.  Next, Mandy

attached the last two pieces of tubing.  Each one connected the swivel

joint at an ankle with its corresponding swivel joint at the shoulder.  The

middle of the tubes dropped into the swivel joints on the back of the body

shaper at the hip, and were held in by pins.

 

     "My, my, Alex certainly is a craftsman," Mandy said.  "This is

possibly his most ingenious invention."  Flora's only reply was another

soft moan.  The movement and shifting while getting the hardware attached

to her had caused the tight rubber corselet to slide back and forth over

her slippery body, rubbing and stimulating her until she nearly came.

 

     "And now for the crowning glory," Mandy crooned, lifting up a rubber

hood.  It had several attachments and fittings and she wiggled it as she

walked toward Flora with it.  The thick rubber made a sort of liquid

rustling sound as she shook it.  Flora looked mournfully back.  Fine beads

of persperation had appeared on her forehead.  "Oh, knock off with the sad

eyes Flora, I know you too well.  You're probably having the time of your

life right now.  Well, you may think this feels wonderful now, but

remember, it's possible to have too much of a good thing."

 

     "Too much sex?" Flora taunted, panting, "is that possible?"

 

     "That, my dear, is what we are... that is YOU... are going to find

out.  I'll wager, that you'll be begging for relief before this is over."

 

     "Yeah," panted Flora, "Sounds like...ah! a safe bet."  She was

grinning openly now.

 

     Mandy held up the hood, turning it 'round, so that Flora could get a

good look at it.  "You like discipline hoods, don't you, slut?"  The game

was afoot again.

 

     "Oh YES, mistress," replied Flora, picking up on her cue.

 

     "Well, you're not going to love THIS one for long," she said softly.

Flora looked at it with a little apprehension.  It was a heavy rubber

helmet molded from more of the heavy latex.  It too, looked to be about

1/8-inch thick.  The face had been molded to look exactly like a human

female, if human women had very shiny ebony-black skin.  There were

naturally shaped holes for the eyes, and stubby little tubes that fit up

into the nostrils.  It had a long collar built in.  There were buckling

straps along the sides and back, a breathe-through inflatable gag fitted at

the mouth, and two dozen 'd' rings down the back for lacing.  It was a

formidable helmet, and Flora was duly intimidated.

 

     Without further ado, Mandy pushed it on over Flora's defiant, grinning

face, pulling it back, and checking to see that the nostril tubes were

properly seated.  She made sure that the inflatable gag was forced well

into her slave's mouth.  She lifted one rear edge and asked Flora if she

could breathe easily.  Flora grunted once to indicate that she could.  Fun

was fun, but you didn't play games with your breathing.  Next Mandy seated

an earpiece in each ear, pulled the flaps back, and began lacing it up.

 

     From the start, it was obvious to Flora that this hood would be quite

severe.  Before Mandy tightened the laces, there were almost 2 inches of

space at the rear.  When she was done, there was none.  The lacing went all

the down the neck, the posture collar sealing nicely to the collar of the

body suit, forcing Flora's head erect and her gaze, straight ahead.  Flora

moaned a little more loudly during the lacing process, perhaps testing the

gag, perhaps losing control but unable to do anything about it.

 

     The last thing Mandy put on her slave was a wide rubber belt that had

a pair of opera-length, molded rubber gloves glued to it at the palms.

Flora's arms were released from the lacing bar, powdered, and the gloves

pulled on all the way up to her shoulders.

 

     Her hands were forced to conform to the gloves where the fingers and

palms were cemented to the belt.  Eyelets at the top of the gloves and at

the shoulders of her corselet were laced together, trapping her arms in the

tight-fitting gloves.  When the belt was put around her waist and laced at

the back, its purpose became obvious.  She now appeared to be standing with

her hands on her hips, and they would stay that way until she was let out.

 

     Mandy's last step was to attach a bulb inflator to the fitting at the

mask-helmet's mouth, and give it four slow squeezes.  She removed the bulb

from the miniature one-way valve and inserted a small red plug into the

valve.  The valve now looked like a red mole or beauty mark next to her

mouth.  The breathing hole was practically invisible between the molded red

lips of the mask.

 

     When all was said and done, Mandy stepped back to admire her

handiwork.  Before her stood a strange but proud looking mannequin, over

six feet tall, wearing red leather thigh boots laced tight and smooth,

right to the bottom of her black rubber corselet.  Her hips and breasts

were exaggerated enormously by her tiny 19 inch waist.  Her breasts heaved

as she breathed, her diaphragm being temporarily unavailable for duty.  Her

back was literally straight as an arrow, and her head was held proudly, if

forcibly high. She stood with hands planted on hips, as if daring all

comers to a sexual duel.

 

     Her face had the appearance of polished ebony, with prominent, if

artificial, cheekbones and a bald, gleaming black head.  Various chromed

steel tubes peeked from behind her.

 

     Mandy carefully turned her around to look in the full length dressing

mirror.

 

     A muffled "Mmmmm, mph!" announced Flora's appreciation for her new

look.  She twisted this way and that to examine the hardware attached

behind her, grunting with pleasure as each twist of her body resulted in

something being stimulated.  She experimentally lifted a foot, and groaned.

Mandy had to catch her to keep her from falling.

 

     Mandy attached a small wire lead to a socket in one ear of the helmet.

The other end was plugged into a small box which she clipped onto Flora's

belt.  When Mandy flipped a switch, a light glowed on the box.  "If you can

hear me, Flora, nod your oops, no...grunt once."

 

     "Grmmp" said Flora.

 

     "Excellent!  Now we're going to breakfast.  I'm sure Jason is

practically starving, and I know he'll be glad to see you.  Now walk ahead

of me, and don't worry about going too slow, heh-heh."

 

     They headed for the lift cage, just over twenty feet away.



                            - Chapter 7 -



Flora was, in a way, enjoying herself immensely.  Although the corset 

portion of the rubber body shaper was uncomfortably tight, making her feel a 

bit breathless, the rest of the outfit was another matter.  Her head was 

tightly encased in the helmet and felt, well... TIGHT, as if she had been 

drinking.  The balloon gag filling her mouth distended her cheeks slightly, 

and gave her a kind of simple, oral satisfaction, like she got from performing

fellatio.



The fiendish attachments of the corselet felt entirely too nice, and she

squirmed a tiny bit, as little as the steel bar at her back allowed.



The look in the mirror had really excited her, for she hardly recognized 

herself.  Her face had taken on the appearance of an ebony female android, 

and her waist was now so tiny as to almost be unbelievable.  Ever since she 

had met Mandy they had both been reducing their waists through tight-lacing, 

even wearing a tight belt to bed.  But this was certainly the smallest that 

Flora had ever been laced down to.  It had taken almost an hour of intermittent

tightening to fully close the laces, and she was surprised that her waist and 

ribs were still relatively comfortable in their compressed state.  The years 

of figure training had payed off!  She yearned to see what this tiny wasp's 

waist felt like, but she could hardly feel anything through the rubber gloves

and the waist belt they were fastened to.



But when she moved to walk out the door at Mandy's order, oh, what a surprise!



Because of the pipes attached at her ankles and shoulders, she could not

walk normally.  Not only were her curved steps limited to about 1 foot by the 

ankle bar, but as one foot went forward, the steel tubes pulled the

corresponding shoulder back, and pushed her other shoulder forward.  She was

forced into a sexy, torch-singer's strut, pelvis thrust forward, rolling her

shoulders and swivelling her hips.  This did not help her balance on her now

precarious heels.



What was worse, with every step, her lubricated torso slid back and forth

within the tight confines of the rubber corselet, rubbing her nipples and

clitoris with the rounded rubber fingers inside.  Occasionally, one of the 

little buggers would catch on her clitoris ring and give it a tweak forcing 

her to stop while paroxysms of tension radiated from her sex.  Then too, the 

action of lifting her feet alternately pulled and released the rod to her 

crotch, pulling and pushing the thick dildo inside her.  After only ten feet 

or so, she stopped, gasping. 



"MMMmmmph!" she said.



"You're not much of a conversationist, are you?" asked Mandy. "Now, remember, 

you're the one who said there is no such thing as too much sex!  You are going

to walk to the elevator and into the dining room if I have to drag you!  I am 

going to turn your hearing off now, and I don't want to have to turn it back 

on, is that clear?  Now move!"



Flora moved.  It was slowly driving her insane, but she knew that Mandy 

really meant it this time, so she walked.  With each exaggerated strut, her 

breasts slithered inside their lubricated cups, the little fingers playing 

with her nipples.  At every step, the dildo plunged in and out, in and out, 

the rubber fingers in the pants gripping her clitoris, massaging her pussy 

lips and the lubricant covering her body "squelch"-ing around as she moved.  

She moaned and grunted in ecstacy with every slithering stride, but the rubber 

gag filling her mouth muffled the sounds almost completely.  Soon, she could 

resist no longer.  



She gave in to the insistent stimulation.  She began to bend her knees up and 

down in time with her enforced strut, deliberately forcing the dildo farther 

in and out of her hot and slippery cunt, and rubbing her clit harder against 

the groping fingers.



Before she was halfway down the hall, she climaxed in a long, shuddering

orgasm.  What made it all the more frustrating was that she was unable to



move her hands, or arch her back, or any of the usual things she did when

she came.  Mandy had grabbed her shoulders from behind as soon as she 

stopped, to keep her from falling.  Her portable prison of steel and rubber 

held her rigidly erect, with her hands firmly fastened to her hips.  All she

could do was stand there and shake.  Mandy waited a moment, then prodded her 

in the rear.



Flora began walking again, inching her way down the corridor, each step no 

longer than a foot.  It was even harder to start moving again.  Her orgasm 

had made her nipples and clitoris even more sensitive, and she tried to 

keep her torso from shifting moving as she walked.  Unfortunately, that was 

made impossible by the clever arrangement of the rods connecting her ankles 

and shoulders.  She was getting warmer too, as her recent orgasm and the 

exertion of walking in her tightly controlled bondage had warmed the rubber 

corselet and the K-Y jelly within it.  Once again, at the insistent groping 

of the rubber fingers, and the steady pumping of the dildo, she found herself 

riding the waves of another sexual crest.  Somehow, she managed to make it to 

the door of the elevator before she cried out into her gag with another 

unbridled orgasm.  



Unable to look down at her body because of the high posture collar, held 

firmly in the tight grip of her rubber corselet and hood, she now felt as if 

she had become a disembodied cunt, while waves of sexual spending and climax 

swept over her.  When she recovered, she glanced back along her path.



It had taken her ten minutes to mince the twenty feet from the bedroom to the 

servant's lift.  It had seemed like hours and miles.



Mandy manhandled her into the lift.



As she rested in the elevator, she nearly cried as she realized that it was 

easily twice the previous distance from the lift to the dining room...



When they reached the first floor, Flora was again forced to walk, knowing

she now had to cover twice the previous distance.  Her body was sweating 

profusely inside her tight latex corselet, adding to the slippery K-Y jelly.



There was a delicious ache spreading through her jaw from the rubber balloon 

filling her mouth.  She revelled in the sensation, even though it was

uncomfortable, knowing that soon it would become completely numb.



Every step resulted in caresses so intense, they bordered on the painful.  

Her nipples and clitoris perversely insisted on staying hard, and as she 

strutted down the hallway, the K-Y jelly in her suit squelched back and forth, 

slithering sensually around her breasts, and through her crotch.



The butt-plug felt like a telephone pole in her ass, and her pussy muscles

ignored her demands to stop, contracting rhythmically around the dildo.  There 

was no room in her mind now for anything but the physical sensations this 

devilish bondage forced on her.  Once again she felt she had become a 

disembodied cunt, lost in the waves of orgasm, coming almost continuously now, 

unable to stop even if she'd been asked to.  It took all of her will to 

concentrate enough on walking... to simply remain upright.



As the two women reached the dining room, she faltered, weak from her 

exertions, and Mandy had to grab her as she lost her balance, the rigid 

framework of chrome tubing preventing her from catching herself.  She sagged 

gratefully while MAndy supported her weight for a moment.



"All right," Mandy said, "that's enough.  You can just stand here while I

fetch Jason."  She tied the tubing mounted at Flora's back to one of the 

pillars seperating the dining room from the sitting room, to keep her from 

tipping over. 



Flora had not even heard Mandy's words, as she relaxed into the stays of her 

corselet, letting the stiff rubber and steel support her.



Perhaps ten minutes later, Mandy returned, leading Jason in, in a tight

leather body binder with an attached hood.  Flora was suddenly grateful 

he could not see her in her embarassing situation.  She was not used to having 

guests in the house while "dressed up" or doing a scene.  Mandy was saying 

something to Jason, she could see her lips moving, but since her earpiece was 

turned off, she could hear only her own breathing and her pulse singing in her 

ears. 



Then Mandy uncovered his eyes, and she winced inside her rubber helmet as 

she saw his wild-eyed gaze examine their surroundings, then settle on her.



By now, she had recovered sufficiently to think, he's not taking this very 

well...



The next thing Mandy did horified her.  Mandy turned on her earpiece,

untied her from the pillar, and commanded her to walk around the giant formal

dining table.  She whimpered, knowing she was already weak from her last two

bouts with the sinister suit, in fact her pussy was still twitching with after

shocks.  But when Mandy insisted, she knew she could either obey or suffer 

even worse "punishments" later.  Besides which, she had grown to ENJOY 

obeying Mandy, even though it seemed part of her rebelled against the orders.  

She found it pleasureable to push her own limits beyond where they had been a 

year ago, or a month ago.



She began to bend and strut towards the table.  Once again, her breasts 

slithered across the little fingers in her latex breast cups, again, her 

crotch rubbed against the bumps in the panties, and the dildo was forced in 

and out, in and out.  She shivered, and tried not to think of Jason watching, 

but suddenly she couldn't help remembering their hot encounter of the night 

before.  She tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but instead found

herself thinking of Jason's tongue inside her.  It made her hornier than ever 

and suddenly, it made her cringe from the hot, slimy grip of her rubber 

prison.  For the first time in her life, the rubber felt almost repugnant now,

and her skin crawled with revulsion, even as her clitoris and nipples insisted 

that she enjoy it.  She came again in another uncontrolled orgasm, her mind 

rebelling against her body, as she rounded the end of the table. 



She made it all the way back to her starting position without falling, to 

her own surprise.  When she returned to her place, she couldn't meet Jason's 

eyes that she knew were devouring her hungrily.  Would he still be attracted 

to her after seeing her like this?



When Flora had finished her short trip, Mandy brought out an I.V. stand

supporting two bulging enema bags.  Now Flora knew what breakfast would be 

like.



Mandy strapped a mouth brank across across Jason's open mouth zipper, 

preventing him from ejecting the feeding tube.  



In Flora's case, she plugged the breathing tube between the lips of the mask,

and watched to see if Flora could still breathe through just the nose tubes. 

When she had indicated that she could, Mandy pushed the rubber hose through 

the mouth hole, until it was near the back of Flora's mouth.  It wasn't so far

back that she gagged, but neither could she block it with her tongue, nor 

expell the tube.



She'd had this treatment before, and she still wasn't sure whether she liked 

it or not.  Her brain said it was degrading, yet at the same time,  it felt 

like an enema, with the same exciting sensation of enforced fullness.  She 

shuddered, wondering what Jason's reaction would be.



The liquid was very warm, thick, and slightly sweet, and it flowed so 

quickly that it was all she could do to swallow it fast enough.  Her corsetted 

stomach complained, but there was nothing she could do.  When it was done, she 

could only breathe in short, shallow pants, and she was grateful indeed when 

the feeding tube was removed from her mouth-hole.  She hoped Mandy would let 

her out of this infernal get-up soon.



Uh-oh, she thought. I think I have to go the bathroom.



                            - Chapter 8 -

 

     Jason didn't struggle as Mandy led him from the dining room.  He was

hardly in a position to struggle, encased as he was in the tightly-strapped

leather bondage bag.  Mandy had closed the zip over his eyes, so that he

was once again blind.

 

     They stopped walking, and he felt a lurch under his feet as the lift

started downward.  Well, he thought, trying to put a damper on his panicky

feelings, at least I'm getting to see the rest of the house.

 

     His stomach complained from the overfeeding it had received moments

before, and Jason reflected on what he had learned about Mandy.  When he

had first met her, they had been in high school.  Her parents had

apparently been into this sort of thing (he found out later), and a little

of their kinky habits had rubbed off on their daughter.  She had quite a

wardrobe of shiny, rubber and plastic garments, with a few leather items

thrown in for good measure.  All of them fit very tight, and had showed off

her cheerleader's figure to great effect.  He had fallen hard for her.

 

     But now it seemed, she had stepped across the boundaries of just

"dressing for pleasure", and was into body-modifications, bondage, and who

knew what else.  He began to worry what she be capable of.  So far, her

bondage and other bizarre games seemed to be sexually-oriented, but Flora

had said that Mandy didn't really like men.  Suppose she was playing with

him?  Suppose she actually intended to use him for her little games with

Flora, then discard him like a used tissue?  Visions of twisted, naked

bodies and midnight visits to the surrounding woods threatened him for a

moment, before a cool and strange sensation enveloped his still-exposed

cock.

 

     It was Mandy's rubber-gloved hand, he realized.  The lift lurched

s