The Roles We Play

THE ROLES WE PLAY

By

Latex Conservative

I awake slowly and just as slowly realize the vulnerable state that I am in. From what I can tell it is not very large room, and its lone light source is a fire burning somewhere behind me. The fire flickers with both light and shadow, it seemed to me; it played off every surface. I see in the shadows and light a white wall, and the dark headboard and posts of the queen size bed I am currently lying on. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, the blurriness of sleep fades away and I can take further in my predicament. I remember falling asleep in my bedroom, in my house: this room is neither.

I am bound and mostly naked, lying solely on my left side, my head on a pillow of silk matching the bed spread that my body lies on, facing the headboard. What I have on does not cover my torso; does more to restrict me than to protect my feminine assets. The mood light of the fire betrays little, I feel the rest; my mind fills in the details as my emotions begin to arise, for I own none of this apparel or have sanctioned this treatment. Each of my legs is covered in black latex leggings up to my upper thighs. Very pointy shoes, with no heels on them, adorn my feet and force them downward; like a ballerina, however I cannot move my feet out of the locked position. I can only feel the latex on my arms and hands because they are drawn behind me and pulled upward. I feel the tug of a collar around my neck.

The collar in question is part of a simple, yet intricate form of my restriction. My latex legs were bound together by leather belts. The ends of my pointy shoes shared a common ring that is linked to another ring attached to the headboard itself by a straight rod. The leather belts had many rings and crawled up my legs: at the ankle, below the knees, and across my thighs. The main ring on the thigh belt has a straight rod similar to the one connecting my pointy shoes to the head board. The rod is short enough to bend me towards my drawn up legs.

I can look skyward, and conveniently I see a ceiling mirror reflecting the rest of my predicament; it actually consumes the entire ceiling of the room. My arms are tightly encased in a formed leather bag; it explains the crisscrossing straps around my breasts. It is belted, and the belts are tight over wrists, forearms, and just above my elbows, pinning those parts of my limbs together. Like my legs at the feet, the ring in the bag that binds my arms is attached by a rod that is attached to the headboard. I can also see that my blonde hair has been drawn back straight into a high bob ponytail without the bradding.

I cannot help to further assess my situation. How did I get here? Why am I dressed like this? Why am I tied up? I had fallen asleep reading a boring book about something trivial. I awake here, in this state of nakedness and captivity, with no reason. It must have taken my captor, or captors, a great deal of planning. They spared no detail to bring their fantasy to life because this is not mine. My curly hair had to be washed and brushed to get it so straight. The pillow and the bed both feel less than used, and my body has not indented it much. I drooled; I can feel that in the pillow under my head; I have been here for a while. I look the best I can, and I see no windows and I see no door. The mirror is my best visual aide. I see nothing and no one else in this bedroom.

I struggle. I must try to escape before attempting to scream. I jerk my legs towards me, yielding little. I try to kick, but my legs are stopped by the tether connected to the collar on my neck, and I jerk myself forward. The action causes discomfort in my shoulders from my arms being pulled back in the position they are. I struggle again, and I stop when I hear the clicking. I struggle with my legs, and I hear the click coming from the rod. I struggle to pull my arms down; I cannot. When I kick again with my legs I notice that my arms ratchet upward. The rods connecting me to the headboard, and the one connecting my neck to my thighs, are tension rods. My movements are only adding to my inescapability. I stop, suspecting that any more activity on my part would leave me completely immobilized.

I shout “HELP!” and stop; someone is in the room. I hear footsteps from the darkest corner. I look up in the mirror: someone black and shiny is coming towards the bed. I can barely observe this mysterious creature until it stops. From my strained and vulnerable position, I can only breathe heavily in fear. I cannot get another word out of my mouth. I see myself in the mirror, and I tell myself silently that I must be dreaming.

The figure turns the other way to strut around the bed; apparently, as if she read my mind, in order for me to get a better look at her. Yes, based on her shape in the mirror, I feel she is a woman. Click, click, click, click went her shoes. I realize for most of her tall, curvy body she wore tight latex like mine, just as shiny and more of it; no bare skin exposed unlike me. She is in my line of sight, and the fire casts the rest of her form that confuses, disturbs, and intrigues me.

Indeed, her body is completely covered in black latex, and she is partially covered in heavy black rubber as well. It is like she is saying her ‘flesh’ is the black latex, and the rest her clothing. The heavy rubber is just as tight, from leggings to gloves, to the unique single filter gas mask she is wearing that sports rubber school girl-like pigtails out to the sides of her head; as if her hair is black rubber. I cannot see her eyes yet; the lenses of mask are reflecting light and are consumed by shadow. Her torso is covered by a rubber body corset that is perfectly fitted to her body. The body corset goes from neck to pelvis, front and back, with slits cut into it that allowed for her latex-covered nipples to be ‘exposed’. On her pelvis, located exactly between her legs and above her concealed crotch, is a very erect rubber penis with a pair of balls integrated into the body corset; as she moved, the rubber penis appeared to vibrate, jerk, and shake. I swear it is growing the closer she gets and every step she takes.

“You may continue to shout for help,” said the mysterious woman. Her voice is muffled by the gasmask, but still I hear every syllable, every word. “It will do you no good.”

At this, she begins to crawl on the bed, her approach slow her destination me. I get to see her very high heels, and finally her eyes as well; large, black and shiny as her latex, framed by a milky cream skin. Her body is rubbing against me as she settles in behind me. I feel that rubber penis so close to my crotch. Her latex hand strokes my bare body, rubbing. She sits at one side, eyeing me greedily as she cups my right breasts, teases my right nipple, fingers my stomach, and strokes and pulls on my ass.

“Wait, please stop!” I cry. Her touch is electric, a shock to my sensibilities and my vulnerabilities. I can barely describe this. I am not into women, or into this type of sexual play, or like having this done to me without my consent. “Who are you? Why are you doing this? Stop!”

“I am you,” she says cryptically as she runs a finger down the middle of my back. The hand pulls away. Her finger disappears behind me. I feel it poke at my asshole. “And I am doing this because you want me to stop.”

I want to protest further, but her right hand tweaks my left nipple. It is held firm in her fingers and given a quick twist. I yelp. I find three of her fingers in my mouth. I can taste the rubber as she runs the fingers in and out. Her right leg is teasing my right leg as well. I am at a loss in what to do.

“The truth is you do not want me to stop,” she says. Yet she stops; she removes her fingers and pulls her leg away. “So I will not, no matter how much you beg and cry.”

Her right hand disappears behind her as her left hand reaches behind my head. My hair is pulled, and my head is forced back with a yank. I yelp again, watching my captor produce a rubber phallus in her right hand. She begins to slow tease it across my lips, along my chin, and running it up and down my right cheek.

“Have you ever had your mouth fucked by a cock before?” she asks.

No, I never have, but I do not say that. My emotions are confusing, my feelings undefined. She demands an answer with a noise and a turning of her head. She runs the rubber cock in her hand length wise across my mouth. She does so again; this time she drags it across my lips along with it as if to have my answer leak out. She does it again, this time a little more roughly. After this pass, she pulls more of my hair and turns my head towards her more. I am slapped with the rubber cock, left cheek, right cheek, and lightly. The next slap to my left is harder, and it hurts. Right slap, harder, and hurts. She continues to do this, harder every time. I cannot stand it.

“No!” I bark with my watering eyes closing. The slapping stops. I open my eyes to find my foe slowly teasing my mouth again with the rubber cock in her hand.

“Good,” she said with gentile sincerity. “Then I will be the first to take your virgin mouth.”

She gives no warning, her intent no longer subtle. The tip of the rubber cock is pressed against my parted lips. I resist; I close my mouth and fight. I struggle in my bondage and shake my head. I want to scream again. I do not, knowing that the cock would go in. I do not know why this is happening, or why I had allowed this to reach this point. I resist, and I persist in resisting.

My body can only squirm now as my efforts have caused the tension rods to tighten and hold me firm. I need to breathe for I am out of breath. The rubbing head of the rubber cock from my latex and rubber captor plays and parts my lips repeatedly, waiting for my surrender. All the while she is whispering and encouraging as I whimper and protest; neither is understood for my grunts and whines drown out her mutters and moans. My hair hurts from trying to pull away; my arms and my neck are sore from the efforts. Yet my counterpart is neither breathing hard or impatient.

I cannot relent anymore. I cry, moan, and just open my mouth a little to give in to the pressure being applied to it. The rubber cock slides past my wet lips. I cry out; a tear runs down my face as it slides past my once clinched teeth. The cylindrical mass presses against my tongue; I taste the rubber again and gag on it. The rubber cock comes out. The head of the anatomically correct design stops behind my teeth. It moves forward again, only with a slower and much deeper purpose. I cannot help but moan with every repetition as my mouth is violated over and over again.

“That’s a good girl,” I hear my tormentor whisper; her mask is close to my ear. I can see her eyes are wide with excitement. The pace of the oral devaluation begins to increase, and the cock does not plunder as deeply. The other woman praises me with words and demeans me with her actions. “Yes, that’s right. Enjoy this; I know I do.”

I try to say no; I cannot with the cock in my mouth. I am still breathless from my previous struggles. I have no time to consider any alternatives to my present crisis. My mind is lost to the sensory overload and the circumstances. I feel and taste latex and rubber. My mouth is being used in a way I have never experienced before.

My hair no longer hurts, and I cannot understand why. I slurp away as the rubber cock is twisted in my mouth, shoved in by the cruel rubber hand of fate that grips it. I hear her say, “Oh, what a marvelous cocksucker you are. That is so fucking hot.” She pulls the cock out a little more than previously. I seek it out with my open mouth. I collect it, tongue first. “Wow, your mouth clit is swollen! You couldn’t wait to devour that cock! What a hungry slut you are!”

In her vocal degradation of me, I realize I am sucking the rubber cock without her assistance. She pulls it out again. I force myself to stop after trying to reach for it with my lips. I cannot believe I am doing this?!?

“Come on now, don’t stop: you’re a fucking porn star!” I resort to shaking my head whenever she presses the rubber cock against my lips. I make noises of frustration as she paces her persistence. “No?” I feel sudden pressure against my anus. The wet phallus, covered in my spit, begins to dampening the length of my asshole. “Perhaps you need incentive. I would love to begin anal play.”

“No, please, not that!” I scream as she begins to spank my ass cheeks with the wet rubber cock.

“Come now, dear,” she chuckles dryly. Whack, whack, whack she goes, the hits getting harder. “One of your holes will have to open up for this cock, but I don’t feel like your pussy is wet enough yet. I will begin with a few strokes up your ass.”

“Please.” I beg. I plead. She only holds up the phallus for me to see and does nothing else, staring at me with her dark eyes through those lenses of her gasmask. She is waiting. I realize who she is waiting for.

I open my mouth, and immediately she plunges it in. I close my eyes and wrap my lips around the rubber cock. She’s predictable with it this time. She is fast, ramming it; it hurts my mouth and I moan. She slows down, and when she slows down she drives it deeper into my mouth. Once I gag on it she speeds it up again. I am still delirious of everything, for I feel my body warm to the idea of being forced upon by this latex and rubber violator.

The rubber cock slips out of my mouth. She grabs my head and forces me to suck on it before I can make the move; I barely open my mouth. This time she pumps fast, hard, and deep. I feel the phlegm forming in the back of my throat, choking me whenever the head of the rubber cock comes close to striking the back. I struggle and resist, I pull away, but I return to it before she rams it back in. I find myself entrenched in the dilemma of breathing versus invoking her displeasure.

She stops. She stops but leaves the cock deep in my mouth. I cough and gag, but she has me pressed against it. She relents, and I expect her to pull it out. Instead she orders, “All the way down.” She thrusts it in slowly and it stops in my mouth. I gag, but she is not satisfied. “Kiss my hand: that’s all the way down. Open your eyes and look.”

I do as she pulls the rubber cock back just enough to tame my coughing fit. She has an overhand grip on the cock at its end, and I immediately imagine her right, black rubber-gloved hand as a hand puppet. She says, “Now, kiss it.”

She slides the clock back in deep and it jams in my gullet. I can barely see as it chokes me. When I can see, I am mere centimeters short. It requires me to take part in my own discomfort; I feel her eyes on me twinkling in glee as that same thought has already crossed her mind. I pull back and push. Pull back and push. I gurgle and sputter and cough after three more attempts. I try to relax as I go, feeling the cock bend a little because it is crawling deeper down my throat. I only realize my success when my tormentor chimes, “There you are, good girl!”

I realize on my next repetition that I am pressing my lips quickly against her rubber glove. I do it again, my throat producing uncanny noises that cover the sounds of my lips as it smooches the rubber glove. I can barely continue it, yet I continue to thrust on my own, thinking nothing but the act. I am beginning to enjoy it.

I only begin to realize why I am beginning to enjoy it. I feel something between my legs, pressed close to my feminine opening, close but not quite penetrating my sex, softly vibrating. When my foe moves, it moves too. It is her cock!

I figuratively spit up the cock; I cannot suck it anymore, and the vibrations against my labia are too much to ignore. I am ashamed, not sure what is going on, panting and drooling. She does not attack me. She only shows off the efforts of the mouth torture. She holds up the rubber cock; it is very long, I realize, and covered in goo. The goo is my salvia, my spit; the stuff I wished I had left in my mouth to fire at my opponent for disgracing me.

“Look at all that mouth cum,” she says in admiration and awe. “You have such a slutty mouth, you fucking whore, look at it!” She touches me nose with the tip of it. “I hope your crotch cunt is just as creamy as your face cunt.”

“Please, stop,” I whine with a parched throat. I am so embarrassed by what is going on.

“Certainly.” She pulls her vibrating cock from my crotch and I cannot stop the sigh that escapes from my tired mouth. She stops for that moment and says, “Soon.” She stands, heels clicking on hard floor, clicking as she struts away from the bed. I do not bother to look up at the mirror as she departs. She notes as an afterthought, “I will fuck you soon. But not too soon.”

I consider the wetness between my legs as well as the spit that soaks the pillow. I am only beginning to realize that I enjoyed that far too much when I should not had at all. I find my body wanting more as I try to convince myself in my mind that I do not want this. Why am I enjoying this?

I take advantage of the time to remember who I am and my life and my priorities. I have a family. I have a loving husband. We have an enjoyable sex life, which has given us three children. I gave birth to two boys and a girl; they are all in grade school. My husband works in corporation, but rarely does he allow it to dictate his life. When he does, like this weekend, he makes it worth it by taking us on family vacations that always feature a quiet moment for the both of us to enjoy. I find my life plain, yet I am content with it. From that, I see absolutely no reason why I was kidnapped, and why I am under this sexual torture.

My labia trembles and I feel the dribble of pussy spit stick my bound legs together more. I can feel my face flush. I thought about screaming again. My mouth is too sore and too dry to try.

She is coming back; unchanged in appearance or in walk as I look up at the mirror. Her hands are full, but I cannot make out what she has. She places them on the foot of the bed first. She has something that looks odd; it looks like a harness with all the straps on it. She slinks forward, making certain her heels click as much as possible; it makes my heart race now in fear, and somehow she knows it. Again it is too dark to make out her eyes, but I can feel them, and I can feel her evil smile. She slides across the silk sheet towards me: latex and silk, coming together, whispering a thousand terrible promises.

Without any care for me, she grabs me roughly by the back of the head and presents a tangle of straps that frames a thick panel of black rubber. In the center of the panel, barely visible in the darkness, is some form of thick rubber flange that sticks out considerably from the panel. She pushes it against my mouth. I remember myself and resist, but it is too late. She presses that flange into my mouth, and I feel it separate my clinched teeth. Something else around the flange forces my teeth to open more. My mouth is extremely stretched open, and worse she is not done pushing the long gag deep into my main face opening.

I feel her vibrating rubber cock close to my crotch again, and it distracts me from what she is doing. Her right hand presses the panel flat against my face; her left hand pulls most of the straps tight around my head. Her right hand is quick, and I feel the belting of one strap to hold this gag in. I can’t stand it; my mouth is pried apart to the maximum, my tongue held down by a bulbous member similar to that dreaded rubber cock I was forced to suck for God only knows how long, and it is so close to the back of my throat I just want to throw up. She is applying the rest of the strapping. Two straps become one that run up my nose and between my eyes over my head. She crisscrosses straps under my chin and cinches them to ensure my jaw opens no further, if possible. She tightens up the first straps. She then proceeds to tighten the other straps further and further, over and over, until I can only moan constantly in protest.

I can only feel her move away from me; my eyes are closed as I try not to exasperate on the gag. She returns and suddenly I feel tremendous pressure on the sides of my nose. Eyes open, I see she put a black clothesline clamp on my nose. I find new strength to struggle. The gag harness on my head is helping her control my head. As she fiddles with something else, I realize that I am having a great deal of trouble breathing. I panic!

She observes my helpless attempts at freeing myself and only holds up the rubber cock that I had been sucking on previously, still covered in my ‘mouth cum’. “Now, if you want to breathe again, you are going to have to have this shoved up your ass.” I blink and shake my head. “So you need to relax. The sooner I do this, the sooner you will breathe.” I shake my head again; try to tug my head away to knock the painful clamp from my nose. She just ignores me and my fruitless struggles.

Exhausted and breathless, I come to a stop. I feel the cock pressed into my anus. I panic again, but I find myself only sucking on rubber instead of air. I feel too lightheaded, dizzy.

The pain snaps me out of it. I feel it inched in, slowly and deliberately. My oppressor twists it and I let out a gasping sputter. Her gasmask does nothing to render her chuckling moot. She is moaning louder than I am gasping as I sweat all over, trying to think. I cannot think. Everything is a shadow…

My nose is HURT!

I am bombarded by a plethora of pain. I did not see how the clamp came off my nose, but once it did the pain was terrible. I struggle as an afterthought, but stop when my insides reminded me of a terrible truth. I recall the memory of the rubber cock I sucked on. It is inserted in my bowels, and it hurts just as much as my nose. I feel constipated. I want to poop. Any movement tells me to not to move as it just forces me to lie in my current position and be very still. I swear it is in my stomach; I swear it is touching the back of throat! I realize I can breathe again, and a small part of me wishes I was not. I dare not look up at the mirror. I fight the curiosity to look, to see what rubber cock looks like sticking out of my poop chute.

She caresses my butt with her right hand, and she fondles the rest of my body. She says “I love virgin asses. They are so tight. That cock must fill you up on the inside. Don’t you just love the feel of it?” She plays with my ass some more, and barely touches my inner thighs. I suddenly feel the rubber cock tugged. “Answer me, don’t you just love it?” I shake my head. I feel it twist. I scream. “Answer me; don’t you just love how it feels inside of you? Hmmm?”

I can’t hold out; I shake my head yes quicker than I did the last time with that cock in my mouth.

“You do?” She, to my shock, begins to slowly pull it out, and then push it back in. It becomes very slow and repetitive. “I don’t believe you.”

I try to say it. I just gag on the gag. My mouth cannot form the words, and my throat can only make noises. I shake my head empathically. I really shake my head empathically. I really shake my head empathically and I think I strangled out what passes as “YES!”

It comes to a stop. Unfortunately, I feel the cock shoved deep up inside of me, and it is left there. I feel my muscles betray me and squeeze tight around it. I cry that hurt so much.

“I hate liars,” says my oppressor, and she gets up. I can’t look at her, but I know she does not go far. “You don’t like that cock in your ass. Of course it doesn’t matter whether you do or not. Still, I hate liars.”

I just try to grow accustom to that package that fills me insides. I lay there, eyes closed, still held firm by the bondage. I feel the filter on the gasmask against my cheek and my head is forced downward. I feel something jerk at the top. She then pulls my head down, and I feel the bite on my left nipple. I look just in time to see this evil, shiny metal thing clamped on it just before she puts the other one on the right nipple. She lets go, and I make the mistake of relaxing my head; the nipple clamps are linked by a chain that is somehow linked to the top of the gag harness. I manage a howl.

I do not realize her next move or her following movements because of my new predicament. I only hear the clicking of her shoes as I struggle to adjust to the pain and try not to tug my head upward. I hear...something.

I stop.

My heart stops. I am not dead. I just heard a swishing sound.

A swish. SLAP!

My exposed right butt check is on fire. My whole body jerks. My arms do not pull down. My legs do not pull down. I jerk my head; my nipples burn, still imprisoned by the clamps.

Swish, SLAP!

Again my ass! And again, and again, and again! I am being whipped!

My ribs! My stomach; I see it is a riding crop before this strike drives the wind right out of me. My back!

Swish! SLAP!

I keep jerking…

SLAP!

Every strike and my body in rhythm…

SLAP! SLAP!

I don’t realize…

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

That my body…

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

Is moving as if I am having sex!

SLAP!

I pant. The strikes have stopped, thank Christ! My body is screaming. My nipples are numb and in pain, impossibly, at the same time. I forget my anus until I feel the rubber cock being shoved back in with a slow, devilish twist.

“That’s the spirit, you lying whore,” she dryly chuckles. She lies beside me again. She lays the riding crop in front of me and molests me. She teases my breasts. She tugs at the chain. She runs a hand down my stomach again and tugs unceremoniously on my public hair. She runs her hand upward again and pinches the bottom of my left breast. I feel her vibrating dick pressed against the spot between my violated anus and my damp crotch. Why am I damp now? Oh, it is driving me insane!

She grabs the riding crop. She runs it over my body as her body toys my body as well. She tucks her left arm under my helpless body, coming over my shoulder. She holds the riding crop in her right hand, holds the tip of it over my left breast. Her left hand squeezes the end of my breast, and then she pulls just the tip of the crop back. I don’t remember the strike. It all hurts, with my head jerking back, pulling nipples again, and such a short strike from the crop hurting worse than those initial strikes. She does the same to the right breast. She does it again repeating on each on while grinding herself into making me simulate sex. I can only cry in protest.

It comes to a stop, and for reasons I cannot explain I want her to go on. At the same time, I want out. She says, “Do you want the cock out of your ass?”

I nod. OUCH! No, big mistake! I nodded so hard I forgot the damn nipple clamps!

She chuckles and says in my ear, cruel words not filtered by her gasmask, “I am going to count down from three. When I do, you will yank with your head as hard as you can, and you pull the clamps off of your nipples. Do it in one yank and the cock comes out of your ass.”

Oh, but I couldn’t.

“Three.”

She’s counting? Oh shit!

“Two.”

“Hmpf! Hmpf! HMPF!” I am yelling “Wait! Wait! WAIT!”

“One.”

CHRIST! I yank. I find terrible resistance. I pull again. I yank a third time. I finally bit down on the gag and yank…

Everything goes white.

I remember finishing my howling. The blood is flowing back into my nipples. Oh Jesus Christ! Oh shit! SHIT! FUCK ME! FUCK ME!! FUCK!!! Oh, she’s rubbing them, noooooooooooooo, bitch!

“A pity,” I barely hear her say. “You really must love that cock in your ass.” I fight away the tears to look at her. I barely move my head; I still think my head’s attached to my breast ‘blisters’, I’m so afraid to move. “You needed more than one yank. Hehehehe.”

I shake my head despite my erroneous fears. She is only removing the clamps from the harness on my head. She plays with my sore breasts more as I whimper and cry and shake my head. The fake dick of hers is rubbing the back of my legs, vibrating still, teasing me, and threatening me. I forget about it as she tugs and pulls on my poor breasts.

“So, let us review.” She picks up the crop and short snaps it again on my breasts like she did before I yanked those fucking clamps off my nipples. “You have never had your mouth fucked, and you like it.” She snaps my right nipple! “You have never had a cock up your ass, and you like it.” I shake my head in denial; a slap on the left nipple. “You are a terrible liar.” Whap, whap on the right breast, one whap on the left. “And you just don’t follow my directions at all.”

I expect something terrible. She stops and removes herself off of me. I don’t know whether to feel relief or not! She is kneeling behind me. She sets the crop aside, reaches, and detaches the tension rod connecting the collar on my neck to the thigh leg strap. With adjustments, it is much shorter than when I first saw it. She pulls on it, it does not give. I do, and I am pulled towards my legs. It bends me further, and she does not stop until she attaches the rod to the straps encircling my calves. I feel new discomfort on my shoulders. She grabs me and pulls my body more towards her. I am further and impossibly – in my exhausted opinion – stretched out. I must look like some terrible looking cursive ‘U’.

“But I’m not worried,” she says as if the last conversation we had had not ended. She is standing up, and I notice the crop is being flexed in her hands. “You are a cum whore, I know you are. I will get you to have a real orgasm before I am through with you. You already are a leaker, and a pain slut. Regardless if you do cum,” she rears back: FUCK ME! “I’m having a ball!”

New parts of my ass, I realize upon the new strikes, are exposed. She doesn’t hold back, not caring where she strikes. This new position begins to tighten everything up again. I find myself, again, moving my hips as if I am being fucked! That damn cock in my ass, fuck, is it vibrating too?!?! Is it fucking me?!?!?! I don’t know anymore, the attack is just all over. I try to hide: how the fuck can I hide? No place on my body is safe. Worse, she strikes my latex covered legs, and it really fucking hurts!

Then it stops, and I can howl in my gag. I am out of breath. I feel the cock in my ass get shoved back in with a twist. I feel the tension bar detach from the calve strap. It takes more effort to get it to attach to the strap holding my ankles. My arms are more uncooperative than my futile efforts with my body. She finally wins, attaching it, and pulled my aching body as far as it could go. My shoulders scream as they are literally pulled back and over my head. I am bent very forward; if I were standing, I would be bent over reaching for my ankles. My legs are straight up, and in this position my calves hurt from those pointy shoes pulling my feet in a permanent downward position on an upward trajectory. I am in the shape of a perverse, latex ‘V’.

She is letting me contemplate the position for a moment. I realize my pussy is very exposed. I can’t look up at the mirror, but I can feel her looking at it. I know she is. I know she is fingering that fucking crop! I already know what she is going to do with that fucking crop! I wish I could shove that up her ass, too!

Click, click, click, click.

Silence.

Nothing.

After what feels like forever, I work a muffled shout from the back of my throat. I am soaking wet, and I am freezing. I shake from the cooling. I shake from the trauma. I tell myself that I am shaking out of all those things, and also anger and fear. I struggle again and again find no relief. I am such a state of unrest and uncertainty I really do not know what to do.

I have come to the conclusion the woman really does not care about me. My latex and rubber foe is going to do what she wants, whether I cooperate with her or not. My so-called choices, the ones she gives me, are traps. They are designed to either make me fail, or succeed but have no bearing on what she does next. This is all about her. Her motivations, her plan, and her desires: I am certain of it. She cares not who I am, that I don’t do this in my spare time. She wants me to break and accept what is happening.

Why do I feel she is winning?

I feel myself, little by little, accepting my new titles of slut, whore, and accepting my punishments. I am not thinking about the rubber cock lodged in my ass. Well, I do now: I try and fail to ‘poop’ it out. I wish my arms and calves were not beginning to cramp. I wish I could breathe properly. I wish she would fuck me with her built-in, vibrating cock so she would be done with me! I tell myself I want to go home. I want to kiss my children. I want to make love to my husband. I just want to be a housewife. If it means being a whore for a few moments longer, I can be a whore.

She returns with no surprises in hand. She is on the bed, and on me. Her hand massages my vagina and cups my crotch. Meanwhile she moves towards my head and says, “I’m ready.” I don’t know what that means.

She reaches for my gag and yanks. Suddenly, the flange pulls out of my mouth. Air fills my aching mouth, but I cannot close it. She shows me a removable plug in the shape of a penis, and it is covered with my spit. It is linked to a small chain, and when she drops it. I feel it tug on the opening which my teeth are clenched to on the other side.

She strokes me, and I forget my previous thoughts very easily.

“Here,” she says, and she runs her index finger of her left hand easily in my mouth. Just as I was enjoying myself, I find myself completely vulnerable. My mouth contracts, but it stays open. My moans are louder with the stopper out, for as she runs one finger in my mouth, a finger is inserted in my privates. The rubber intrusion in my…well…I...oh…

“A few strokes and we add another.”

Two fingers rim my mouth. Two fingers rim…damn…shit…oh…

“A few strokes more and we add another.”

Both open holes are being fingered by a collection of fingers. The ones in my mouth…are...agony...but...oh…damn it..oh...oh…

She stops, and she shows me the pussy hand. It is wet all over the fingers. She leans forward, breathing heavy through her gasmask, and shoves the fingers into the opening of my gag; her other hand pushes past my bound legs and flicks my clitoris. My mind is in too many places, but I soon taste myself.

“Hmmmm honey,” she purred. “ There you go, Queen Bee.”

She stops, and all I can do is moan. I find that she is probing me with her vibrating heavy rubber cock, that thing attached her, seemingly shaking because it had to wait all night to penetrate me. She presses it against my crotch…

“I just do adore your legs.” She stops penetration and runs her hand over my right thigh, down to my calves, and back to my ass. She repeats; all the while her other hand is actually stroking her ribbed, ready, vibrating cock. I find her touch comforting. I don’t want her to stop.

She stops. She positions herself again to intrude with her cock. I can’t do anything with my ‘backdoor’ so open. I feel the vibrating tip being run left to right, or up and down my folds…

“Oh, you poor slut, I didn’t notice your lovely back.” She pulls everything away…again! She runs her left hand up and down my back with lovely touches of her rubber fingers. I can see, out of the corner of my watering eye, she is still stroking the hell out of that rubber cock.

She sighs, stops, and gets herself into position. And...

The shock of being literally rammed by the rubber cock is just as sudden as her pulling out. I have never been fucked like this: bound and gagged in such a way, in latex, under a woman’s control, but more importantly never while lying on my side. The rubber cock...

I squeal again as she rams it in and yanks it out. The rubber cock is flexible, but has very little give. It feels foreign; I am not mean to be fucked like…

I squeal again, and this time she keeps it in, letting it vibrate against my clit, which had decided to hide to avoid another attack. She is pumping slowly now, leaving it deep inside of me, letting its thickness take up all the space my entrance allows, the vibrations demanding my muscles to contract, and draw the rubber cock deeper in. Her rhythm is excellent, even if the course is wrong. My moans have more meaning, and more depth to them. I’m in pain, but I’m learning to be pleasured by them. I try to look at her, but she puts a hand on my face and pushes me down. She fucks me harder. She lets go and slows down again; she gives the cock in my ass a twist, and it again vibrates. Internally I am numb; externally I’m on fire.

She stops and slaps my ass a few times with her cock. I let out noises of protest. She reaches over and takes the tension rod pulling my legs taunt off the bed’s headboard ring. She undoes the tension rod pulling my arms up and over me, and helps my arms down. The relief of that movement actually causes me to cry out, and I have an orgasm. I have it so bad I actually manage to ball myself up as much as possible.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, little slut,” bemoaned my warden. She is getting off the bed. She grabs me and pulls me to the side. “I’m going to have to start all over again.”

FUCK!

BANG!

I try to reconcile what happened in that one second; that one second where she yanked me off the side of the bed and let me fall to the floor. It was the longest one second in my life. I barely kept my head from striking the floor: BARELY! The fall hurt as I fell on my left side, so it matched the pain from the cropping and spanking I received on the right side. My heart is racing as if I fell a hundred stories, not mere feet!

She yanks me to my knees by the tension rod after she unhooks it from my legs. Still holding it, she forces me to be up. I can see her rubber cock; it looks so much bigger than before. It is covered in my wetness. She lets go of the rod, grabs my head…

GULP! GULP! GULP! GULP! GULP!

I try to resist, but I cannot. She is fucking my held open mouth, fucking the hole made by the harness gag. I can feel the thick rubber plug slap my chest, teasing me, telling me I should have preferred it over this. She fucks my mouth, and I taste my honey. It is a lovely taste. It goes away as my mouth somehow manages to hemorrhage spittle.

She grinds her rubber cock into my forced open mouth. I cough and gag as she manages to control my head. She lets me pull away so she can pull me back to shoot that damn thing back in! She is teasing my tongue now; drawing as much as the head back and then reinserting it. I feel like I want this; I want to freely suck her cock. But she won’t let me.

She pumps with more effort and pulls my head. She goes deep and holds it, and then pinches my nose close. I pull away, but I cannot keep out of her reach. She intrudes again for a few strokes, keeps it in, and uses both hands to pull. I can wiggle and fight away, but only because I want to breathe. I manage, but she just grabs my head again. She pumps, and this time she really pumps. Her latex pelvis slaps my face with her deep drilling of my skull. She only stops when my drooling has become so obsessive she makes me admire it, forcing me to look at the puddle of drool on the floor, and the yellow-white slime on her cock.

“Look at that. You did that, you slut!” I don’t quite understand: of course I did that! “Both your pussy and mouth cum at the same time now; you are such a dirty little shit!”

Before I realize it she is lifting me up by the tension rod connected to my collar. Somehow I make it, but I teeter in fear standing there in those cursed pointy shoes. She leaves me there, standing, letting me fear that fall. I peer down and saw that the puddle under me is growing. My latex legs are buffed to a show room shine by my sex fluids.

She moves behind me and shoves me in the back. I squeal as I fall forward on the bed. I meet the bed quickly; from this perspective it does not seem very tall. I realize differently when she pulls my legs back and lets them fall on the floor. I can stand erect easily, but she pulls my arms up to keep me bent over. My legs are still strapped together, unmoving.

I feel pain renewed by the slow, twisting removal of the rubber cock from my ass. She keeps my arms raised to keep me down as I try to twist up. I finally feel the rest of it leave me, and I cannot help to shiver when I feel cool air enter my asshole. I realize I am cumming again; my pussy spittle is hot and causes new stickiness between my legs.

“Such a pain slut.” I watch her come back around the bed, while I stay right where I am. I want no more pain. But I watch her grab something from off the bed; it is small, but it has form. “Well, I must oblige you.” She places it on her rubber cock, and I watch her pull it on. It’s made of black latex, and she doesn’t roll it on like a condom, but it forms on her cock nonetheless. She struts with a hand on her black latex-covered rubber cock and disappears behind me. I feel both her hands on my hips.

My asshole just closes as that latex rubber cock penetrates. I squeal, and I try to stand up, but the cock is inside of me; my insides tell me to stay bent over. I obey my insides; she must know because she doesn’t even correct me physically. I realize her cock is much wider and longer than the previous phallus. I have to fight the urge to lift a foot. She is not gentle; she rams me progressively, increasing tempo until her pelvis is SMACKING my ass.

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!

My eyes, mouth, and pussy is leaking: tears, drool, and juice respectfully. It hurts, it really hurts. I really like it. I enjoy it. I love it. It causes my stomach to knot. It causes electricity to run from my anus to my pussy. I can’t find my voice after a while. I cross my eyes. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who I am. I can…hardly….think....

She’s deep inside me. She forces me to stand up, and I find my voice again. The feeling is bizarre. My legs are numb, they shake, yet I stand as she leaves me impaling anally on her cock. It is vibrating still, and it numbs me terribly. My precarious footing is causing me to tip slowly side to side, crushing my toes and overworking my calves. I now realize I am doing all the work; little by little, I’m anal fucking that cock while she holds me up by my arms. I can’t help to jerk. I’m jerking off without a cock in my pussy. I’m dizzy. I’m faint….

I come to as I am cumming again. I am panting, mouth held open still by the gag. She is fucking my ass still. I find myself wanting to help, but she slaps my ass and says, “Don’t, slut!” I obey, but she keeps slapping my ass. I can’t tell her I am not trying to stand up, or trying to help.

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!

She rims my anus for a while until I catch my breath…

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!

She gives my anus a few more pokes before withdrawing quickly. I feel it occasionally as she caresses, rubs, pinches and slaps my ass. She runs her finger across my pelvis and teases a strike against my throbbing anus. She pulls away, and I all I hear is the clicking of her high heels.

I rest my buzzing head on the bed as she walks around. I feel her on the bed now. I turn my head towards her, and I see the cock coming towards my open mouth. NO! NOT THAT!

“Come now, you deserve this, you filthy whore,” my tormentor chuckles.

I struggle and pull, and she just collects me. I can smell how dirty that latex is, having been in my ass! She is so close to my forced open mouth! No, not this! Not this! Oh no! NO!

It takes longer to realize that I am struggling for no reason. At best she is only holding on to me, or dragging me back. She only gets as close as to putting it pass the O-ring of the gag, and then lets me get away. She did this for a good, long minute before I realize she is just tormenting the fuck out of me, tormenting me until I peed from the effort.

“Silly bitch.” She slaps my face, and pulls off the latex sheath, and tosses it behind her. She strokes the clean heavy rubber cock, throbbing still, and guides it into my waiting mouth. It’s gentle, but she says sternly, “Now work it. Slowly.”

I obey, thinking what the alternative will be. It is very hard to suck when you can’t wrap your lips around the object of your desire, but she accepts my efforts.

She pulls away and stands behind me again. She unceremoniously tips me on the bed. I lay there, quietly. She takes off the thigh belt. She takes off the calf belt. She leaves on the ankle belt, but I feel her slipping one of those previously removed belts around an ankle. She slips the other one on. She then took the tension rod that held my arms back from the head board and attaches it to the left ankle, and attaches it to the foot board. She undoes the main ankle belt and walks to fetch the tension rod that held my legs before. I test my left leg; some give, but I’m not going anywhere. She returns, attaching the last rod to my right ankle belt, and spreads my legs apart. I find that I have no play with my legs once she pulls me more to my right and attaches the rod. I feel her pull on the rods until my legs are really pulled. Now I can’t even close them.

“On your knees, slut,” she orders. I feel her behind me as I use my shoulders to push up. However, as I raise my ass, she shoves the rest of my body down and wraps her arms around my stomach, trapping my arms under her pressing body. With expert ease, as if a man, her cock enters my pussy and she beings to pump. She eventually finds that my bound arms make for good handles and pulls on them while she fucks me…silly.

I am forgetting...everything. She’s...a pro…and…her thrusts are constant. Soon, her pelvis is smacking my ass…just as...it had…FUCK…just as it...justasitslappedmyface! Shit, shit, shit, she’s stopping, no. Oh, she’s just slowing down. She’s grinding it ouuuuuuuuuuuuuut. Fuck me. Yes, she is fucking me! Yes, fuck me! God Damn You, BITCH, you better fuck me I can’t take it anymore! I just can’t! I can’t!!!

Do you want me to beg? I whimper loudly and repeat. Do you want to hurt me? I struggle, and she swats at my swaying breasts. Do you want to fuck my ass? I push back, but she shoves me forward and just keeps ramming me. I am leaking. My pussy is wet. It hurts now like my ass, but that vibrator is just too...damn...FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!!!!!

“FUCK!”

The cramp in my right leg is followed by the cramp in my left leg. I grab them both and cradle them to my chest. That’s a bad idea and I have to stretch them back down and force the feet downward. Ouch, damn it, that smarts! I throw off the blankets of my bed, and I rub the knots…oh, shit, I have to take a few minutes to realize my situation.

I am not bound, and I am completely covered up by my Toy Story pajamas. The television, the old standard definition that got replaced by the high definition set in the living room, is on, and the 480i light source illuminates the room. The DVD player is running, playing a fireplace video in a loop; a rather funny gift from the in-laws, but it does a lousy job heating anything up; I just play it. My black rubber slicker is hanging on the door of the closet not far from me, smelling used and still wet from the rain outside from earlier. Leaning against my bed is the tension rods, the ones I am going to use to hang up my new curtains tomorrow.

I seethe about everything. First, the fucking cramps. I eye my tormentor, my foe: the Stairmaster. That ‘bitch’ has been working me over just as much as I worked her over. I have been pushing myself for months and still whenever I do one more minute on it I get cramps!

I seethe because the cramps just snapped me out of one hell of a dream. I can feel that my body was worked up from it, but with these cramps...needless to say my clit has crawled back up inside of me. I am a little damp, but not even close to what my body was doing in the dream. I don’t even need to change the boxer briefs I am wearing. It sucks: it was a wonderful dream.

I gingerly get up and act as if I took a dildo up my ass, but in reality the cramps in my legs is serious. So is the pain in my shoulders from the pushups I did before I worked the Stairmaster. I check the time on my dresser, past the picture of me, my husband, and my wonderful children. Three thirty-one in the morning. Soon, I will be getting up to get the kids to school, and shortly thereafter my husband is coming home from the airport. We will have several hours to ourselves.

I sigh and head into the bathroom. I do it because, like all the other times lately, I relieve myself, then weigh myself. I thought to use the Wii Balance Board, but I use the less than reliable scale in the bathroom once I am finished. I weigh, once I count how off it usually is, one hundred and twelve pounds. I’m past my target weight of one twenty, but I can tell my waist is smaller than the width of my hips even with the puffy pajamas on. I get some water in me, and my legs feel better. I stroll back into my room, and realize there is no point in going back to sleep.

I go over to my closet to check on some things. I find a simple cardboard box, a long stem rose box, and a few bags and, all piled together, I take them over to the bed. I sit beside them, take a breath, and open the big cardboard box first. Inside of it is a full clothes bag. I just unzip it…

The sweet smell of latex and baby powder tickles my nose.

Oh baby, I’m sorry I put you away for so long. Mama became a Mommy, and she got a bit too...distorted in shape. After a few years of diaper changes I hated baby powder too. But I worked out; I got the kids going to school; I got the hubby coming home when they are not here. It’s time to come out.

I reach in and pull out the black latex catsuit of my youth. I rub it with my hands. I press it to my face. I enjoy the smell of it; the baby powder is in the inside, waiting to help anybody to slip into its tight hold. It will be tighter around the hips from child birth, but that’s perfect because it wasn’t as tight before. I know it will fit.

I peer at the other items of my past in the other bags: vibrators, dildos, harnesses, bondage cuffs, and that drain plug gag harness I ordered from Japan. I see all sorts of body clamps. I pop open the long stem rose box, and I find my riding crop. I test it, bending it my hands, slapping my left palm with it.

No, none of it has lost its luster; not since I met my husband with it, got married, and together we grew up and had children. I found that if I lived my life as if it was role play, just as I did as a bi-sexual, latex wearing switch, I thrived. For years I told myself I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a homemaker. And I am all those things. And I found content and enjoyment. I love it. I never did these crazy things, like wear latex and enjoy anal sex.

I just miss this, and I have denied myself my latex luxury and sexual fun for a long time. It is not going to be rampant like before, but today is one of those rare breaks from my role play as homemaker that I get to be a latex dominatrix for a few hours, and a latex cock-sucking whore for a few hours. Then all returns to normal before the bus drops the kids off, and everything gets put back in their place.

I grab the newest of the bags and head back into the bathroom. I reach the sink and stare at the mirror. I reach into the bag and pull out a small case. Inside are black contact lenses. I carefully slip them in.

The next item is a bit more heavy and majestic: my husband knows about the past, but he hasn’t seen me like this. It takes real effort, but I achieve it, make adjustments, and I turn my attention to the mirror.

I am no longer here. I see my tormentor, my foe, from the dream. I see her head, that which is covered completely by a heavy rubber gasmask. Only the lenses betray her black, cold eyes. Her hair is not hair, but black rubber streamers that dangle from each side like little school girl pig tails.

“You may continue to shout for help,” said the mysterious woman. Her voice is muffled by the gasmask, but still I hear every syllable, every word. “It will do you no good.”

She begins to touch my pussy.

Now where was I?

THE END