A Latex Girl Thing

By

Latex Conservative

(Any similarities to other stories is purely coincidental.)

He saw her the moment she walked into the bondage club, and that was saying something given the amount of decadence in various forms of fetish and beauty: not all of it pretty in his lone opinion. Like many of the younger set of women, and a few of the chubbier ones, the thin, shapely creature wore skin tight black latex. She wore it from head to toe, which itself was not so unique there were a few men and women that wore cat suits, gimp suits, and bitch suits this night. It was the quality of her material and how it fit her; it was the wettest latex he had ever seen, and it clung to her body so tightly it was as if it were her first skin, not her second. Her ‘hair’ – some wig, or maybe part of the latex hood itself – featured what appeared to be flogger braids that were styled in a Betty Page-like hairdo. If he didn’t move in now, some other lucky bastard, or bitch perhaps, was going to score this thrill!

“Hello,” he said, nearly running into her and the bar, just as he noted – and feared – some leather-wearing brute was going for her too. The bald-headed hulk lingered, hoping she would notice him.

In this close, he could smell her latex perfume. He soaked her in; along with the body suit she wore a tight leather, neck-collared dress; a thin leather that stretched over what appeared to be pierced nipples. Her crossed latex legs revealed high thigh leather long boots with fuck-me pumps. She fingered what he thought was a crucifix attached on the D-ring of her collar; it was not a Catholic cross with Jesus but a naked woman spread eagled and crucified on a St. Andrew’s cross.

“Oh wow, cool,” he mumbled. He then remembered himself and looked into her very dark eyes. Those eyes were shaped like she was Asian. She sported a tiny nose ring, and a stud on the side of each nostril. “Oh. Hi. Rusty. My name is Rusty.”

She let her wet, black lips stretch into a smile and she measured him from casual shoes to crisp pants to buttoned shirt and straighten tie. Rusty was tall, lean, and may not have looked like a pervert, but he enjoyed fucking like one. She leaned against the bar and said, “I’m whoever you want to call me, Master.”

With his cock trying to unzip his pants from the inside, Rusty forced himself to slow down. Usually it took a while to land a girl, and a little longer to convince her how he would like to fuck them, fuck with them, or both. Sometimes he struck out, went home, had sex with his kinky wife and call it good; sometimes he was luckier than that.

“Master? Well,” he cleared his throat and sat down beside her, “it appears I don’t have to convince you with a couple of drinks who will be on top tonight.” Rusty put his hand on her left knee; she didn’t reject him. He really dug this chick’s attitude. “What’s your pleasure, I’m buying.”

She leaned in and uncrossed her legs and said, “My pleasure is you telling me how to suck your cock and drink your cum, or whatever else gets me to that particular climax, with one other condition.”

With her initial response how could Rusty say no to a condition? Besides, in a world that can’t always decide the difference between bondage sex and rape, it was best to live by the credo of Safe, Sane, and Consensual. “Sure, what is it?”

“Do not ask me to remove my ‘skin’.” The woman gestured toward her very cool looking latex hood and the rest of her latex body. “You may do what you like. Whip me. Beat me. Burn me. Piss on me. Tie me up for five minutes or five days. But at the very least I want to milk your cock with my pussy, or my ass, or my mouth, or in any combination in my fetish of choosing. Agree, and I will be your willing submissive, your obedient slave, or your reluctant victim.”

Rusty turned to the bartender and strained out, “Gin.” He looked at her and said, “I agree, Miss…”

She only smiled and said, “Call me what you like, Master, but I don’t drink alcohol. It is no disrespect to you; I want a clear head, in order to fully enjoy the experience of you fucking me up.”

“Then gin for me,” said Rusty with an excited voice. He looked back at her and couldn’t help to laugh shyly. She seemed to glow at him; she was really turned on. He said just to keep the vibe going. “Well, I’m not too much into verbal humiliation. I mean, I sputter ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ without realizing it. What am I going to call you?”

“If it makes you feel better, Master, just call me Slave,” she said with a kind smile. “I’ve been called quite a few names in my life, but Slave has always been the most popular with me.”

“Slave it is,” said Rusty, taking his drink from the bartender. Who was he to ask her too deep questions: he was married; he wasn’t using his real name; why would she have to give him a real name? “Okay, Slave, I have to say this, but you fucking rock.” He gestured towards her body. “Your look’s killer.”

“Thank you, Master,” she grinned. “I drink sperm once a day to maintain myself.”

Rusty nearly spilled his drink out of his mouth. He wiped his mouth and said, “Wow, the mouth on you, girl.”

She winked and said, “It’s a slutty mouth, Master. It has done very bad things.”

Shifting his cock in his pants with his free hand, Rusty gestured with his gin-filled hand towards her unusual crucifix. “So, you’re strictly a submissive? Is that what your cross represents? I mean that’s hot too.”

“There’s more than one meaning to it, Master,” said Slave. She leaned closer to him so he could examine it in further detail. Rusty could see the whip marks on the naked body, the subject’s agonized face, her pierced tits, and the crown of thorns on her head. “I rarely dominate men, like once in a great while. It also represents my own spiritual struggles.”

“So this is you?” he reasoned.

“Yes, Master,” she said. Her smile was a little forced. “I have had many. I sometimes feel tortured. Cursed.” She sighed away her troubled expression. “I feel more at peace when I am on the receiving end of another’s pleasure. I feel…like I am with God.” She let her hand stroke his smooth face. “And I would like one of his Sons to punish me, and fill me with his seeds.”

They stared at one another for a few heartbeats. At the same time, both laughed. Rusty waved his hands and said, “Wow, I didn’t want to laugh.”

“It’s alright, Master,” said Slave, “I don’t mean to be so talkative about my own religion.”

“No, its okay,” he assured her. He took a drink. “Who else takes the Lord’s name unless they’re like” Rusty began to make a face and faked a tense sexual moment. “Oh God! Oh God! Oh my fucking God!”

Slave chuckled and pushed herself closer. “That is so true, Master.” She stroked his face again. “Forgive me for being so forward in touching you. I just find you handsome. I can’t help myself.”

He took another drink and swallowed the contents hard. “If punishment is what you’re looking for, Slave, just keep doing what you are doing.”

“I know you will, Master,” she said with sincere gratefulness, with hope in her dark eyes. “Punish me. Use me. Fuck me. Severely.”

That made Rusty’s dick squirt a little.Slave got as close as she could get without touching him further, seemingly intoxicated by him all the sudden. He set his glass down and said, “I hope your place is close.”

“It is, Master,” she said with an upside down frown. “You will find, like me, it will be to your liking.”

Indeed she was right; there walk from the club to her place was short, and her apartment was…well….

It took Rusty a moment to recall the journey to Slave’s apartment once he was inside of it. The building they entered was the typical five-story, red brick, half-block apartment building. Before and after the elevator ride, even at this late hour, they ran into no one or passed no other signs of life. It was all well-kept and very quiet, as if no one else lived in the building. More curious was that Slave only had to unlock one lock on her door; three deadbolts were the minimum in the fair city they lived in.

It was the apartment that caused Rusty to replay everything. At first glance it was more than boring; there was nothing he could see in it: no memories and no valuables. Further in, however, his mouth dropped open as the lower floor revealed a plethora of alternative lifestyle options; it was practically a fucking store! There were racks of latex, leather, heavy rubber, PVC, Lycra, spandex, cotton clothing of various designs, lengths, and colors. A wall was decorated with a vast array of spanking implements, starting with a heavy fly swatter, ending with a three foot frat-style paddle board. Floggers. Whips. Ropes. Straps. Belts. Masks. Gags. Blindfolds. Nipple clamps. Enema kits. There were also very old bits of torture devices Rusty was certain were from the Middle Ages and they looked operational. There were other devices and clothing options he had never seen anywhere: at the club or online.

Slave turned to look at him while surrounded by the vast sea of bondage and decadence. “Master, welcome: this is your dungeon.”

“Jesus Christ!” Rusty stumbled down the short flight of stairs and just kept looking over the fields of potential sexual debauchery that could be had. The smells of polished leather; the feel of silk as his hand brushed past a rack of Asian-style clothing: the place dripped of sex. “All of this is yours? Did you win the lottery, or just rob a fetish store?”

“The Internet has been very good to me,” said Slave proudly. “For every occasion, I must be prepared to pleasure and be pleasured. Please, Master, may I take your hand and take you somewhere?”

“S-Sure.” He felt her cool, smooth, gentle latex hand and followed her. She opened the door to one of the adjoining rooms. Inside was a bed with a series of vibrators and dildos laying on it, along with black ropes, an O-ring gag, and nipple pliers affixed to the adjustable footboard of the bed. He noticed the tripod and digital video camera for the first time. “You do porn?”

“Yes Master,” said Slave with a smile. “Largely centerfolds, short videos, chat sessions, and sometimes I work with some very skilled exhibitionists.” She pulled his held hand to one of her breasts, and intentionally made him squeeze her left tit. “My ability to tolerate pain and willingness to do anything has made me money in very selective markets. Do you like this room, Master, or would you prefer a cleaner room to punish and screw me in?”

Rusty suddenly remembered why he was here, and saw what Slave was doing. He pulled her hand with his hand away from her breast. “Naughty, naughty slut.”

“That I am, Master,” she said, lowering her head like any submissive should.

“Yeah, what else have you around here,” he said. She walked upon his urging, leading him away from the room. “So, wow, you do anything?”

“I do, Master, whether I like it or not,” said Slave without hesitation. “I love anything I do with men the most. I especially like their cum; whatever it takes to get a taste of male nectar, I don’t hesitate to do it.”

“Bukkeke?”

“Ohhhhhh,” Slave got wide eyed, doe-like, and innocent. “I want to do that, Master! I have a locking drain plug gag, too, so I can’t close my mouth, and…and…!” She shuddered very noticeably and had to hold onto him for her legs got weak. “As many men can fit in here, draining themselves in my helpless mouth. But I can’t seem to get more than two guys together to do it.” She moistened her black lips. “One day, Master, that dream will come true if I have to go to Japan to make it happen!”

“How about women?”

“Honestly I’m straight, Master, but I’ll go ‘gay for pay’ when I need the bills taken care of. Don’t get me wrong: women are nice for simple pleasure, but women just don’t have…” Slave stopped and fought with herself a little to come up with a good word or explanation. Instead, she skipped like a broken record and said, “Sperm.”

Rusty cocked his eyebrow. “You’re really hung up on sperm, aren’t you Slave?”

She appeared to be thinking again. She tried to help articulate her point with her hands and other gestures. “If I may, Master, say something that would piss a lot of people off in our community: I believe all men should be dominating women. It’s just my opinion, but whether it was God or Gaia that decided it, men are physically and emotionally superior to women, and should always be owners. We’re better at being subjects, not rulers. We need to be tamed. We need to be taught. We cause more trouble, and more damage, running around without a leash and without a man holding it. What consummates a man’s control over a woman than that creamy white goodness that erupts from your hard cock?”

“Damn, I can think of a lot of femdoms that would beat you purple for such blasphemy,” chuckled Rusty.

“My opinion only, Master,” said Slave, “is that your jizz inside of me assures me of my role in our world. Force it down my throw. Pump it up my ass. Make me squeeze my loins to draw it out. I want that validation of my submissive station.” She drew closer, eyes watering as her arousal was clearly overtaking her. “I want your cum, Master. I’ll beg for it. I will do as you ask, and you may do as you will to me. Anything, Master, please?”

He never wanted to fuck a woman so bad in his life, including his horny times in high school. Rusty said, “There’s a better room?”

“Master, I know the perfect room for us.” She lead him back through the floor of goodies. “It is clean, and it is close to this room so you may…choose how best to pleasure yourself with me.”

Rusty kept that in mind as she opened the door. Inside was a large room, mocked up like a classic dungeon found in some castle in Europe with modern conveniences thrown it; tables, spreader bars, and a few other useful instruments.

Slave said, “Master, a moment.” She reached up and undid the collar she wore with the female crucified on the St. Andrew’s cross. “Forgive me, but I don’t want this damaged during play. It’s not a true slave collar; it’s very precious to me. With your permission, I will stow this and fetch a proper collar and leash.”

“You may, Slave,” said Rusty, a glint of cruelty appearing in his leading left eye. “In fact, I saw a collar out there with your name on it. Get that one, and get a very long leather lead; thin with no snaps.”

“Yes Master,” said Slave.

“And get out of your clothes,” he further added. “But keep your ‘skin’ on, and your boots.”

“Yes Master,” said Slave. Her heels betrayed her position as her slick, sleek body vanished amongst the sea of mostly black clothing and accessories.

Rusty took this time to get better acquainted with the dungeon, thinking how he was going to treat Slave: order her around like a slave, bind her and give her a little of what he wants which isn’t that far off from what she wants, a combination? Other than her no latex removal restriction, he felt she was game for anything. As adventurous as his wife was, he was going behind her back because her pace of trying kinky things was pretty damn slow compared to other people they knew. Slave was a dream come true.

Could he try Piss Play? Breath Play? He eyed the various bondage devices, noting their ability to immobilize her, put her in a compromising position, both, or there was enough room, enough rings, and enough rope in the larger room to put her in Predicament Bondage. Very interesting ideas formulated in his mind, particularly when he spotted a few bondage items he swore was right out the drawings of The Bishop – fucking contraptions might have been illegal in their jurisdiction.

“Master.” Rusty turned his attention back to the door. Slave was still wearing her fuck me heels, but her return was very quiet. She held the collar he wanted her to fetch in her right hand, and the long, thin leather lead wrapped up in her left hand. “I’m ready.”

“On your knees, Slave, and eyes down,” he ordered her immediately; she obeyed, bowing her head to stare at the smooth, hard floor. He walked over, and as he did he loosened his tie and removed it. He stood right in front of her and said, “Look at my crotch.”

She raised her head; his crotch was right in line with her dark eyes. He figured since she wanted to sperm so badly she could just stare at where it came from, hidden behind layers of clothing, the bulge betraying its location. His master plan for Slave was going to be a twist on orgasm denial; the only orgasm he was going to deny her was going to be his. With the night still early, and his wife not expecting him home until tomorrow afternoon because of a story he gave her about work, he was going to milk Slave for what she was worth before he let Slave milk him.

Taking his time, Rusty slowly undid the button of his left sleeve, and then slowly rolled the sleeve upward. He noticed, as Slave heaved her big breasts in yearning, that her nipples were pierced through the latex. They appeared to be at the base, not through the middle of the nipples themselves. Of course that would be some crazy bondage artist’s fantasy come true if the arrangement was real. The latex itself just appeared super glossy and just glued on her very toned, hot body.

“So,” said Rusty, unbuttoning the other sleeve slowly, “what would you do for a Klondike Bar, Slave?”

“Suck your cock, Master,” said Slave in a tiny, beaten voice.

“When I speak to you, you will only respond by saying ‘yes sir’.” Rusty rolled up the last sleeve. “Slave, what are you supposed to say!”

“Yes Sir,” said Slave.

Rusty worked on the top button of his shirt and asked, “Are you a latex fetish slut, Slave?”

“Yes Sir.”

He worked on the next button. “If I fucked your ass first, would you enjoy cleaning your shit off my cock with your mouth to get to the creamy center?”

“Yes Sir.”

Another button fell. He asked, “I’m going to call a female friend of mine and have you French her pussy as I spank you. That’s all I’m going to do to you. Would you like that?”

Slave noticeably hesitated, then said, “Yes Sir.”

Rusty reached down quickly and slapped her face. It was a loud sound, and it made her gasp. “You are a fucking liar. I said would you like to French a girl’s pussy instead of sucking my cock?”

“Yes Sir.”

He slapped her again and clutched her mouth roughly. God, he loved these mind games. “But you’re a cum eater. Wouldn’t you like to lick the floor clean of my cum when I jack off in front of you?”

“Yes Sir.”

A slap on the other cheek and he clawed her chin again. “So which is it, Slave: lick pussy or suck cock?”

Slave was beginning to tremble and she just said, “Yes Sir!”

“Answer me! Lick pussy, or suck cock?”

She sputtered, “I want your cock, Sir!”

“NO!” Rusty took out his tie, expanded the loop, and slid it over her head. He forced the ring of the tie in her mouth, and then tightened it behind her head by pulling on the rest of the tie itself. “Didn’t I tell you, you answer ‘Yes Sir’ only!”

Slave mumbled, “Yesf Sirf!” as her lips curled helplessly around the tight, makeshift damsel gag.

Rusty finished and returned to slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He shook his head and said, “For a willing bottom you sure are lippy and stubborn. I’m going to keep that slutty, cum-eating mouth of yours gagged until I decide what to do with it.” He grabbed her middle nose ring and pulled on it lightly. She whimpered, tried to reach up, but she forced her occupied hands to stay down. “Stare at my crotch! And what do you say!”

“Yesf Sirf!”

Letting go of the nose ring, she blinked repeatedly and sniffled. Rusty said, “We’ll have to do something about those hands of yours, too. If, and I do mean if, you suck my cock you can just use your mouth. I won’t let you cheat and shorten the sucking with your hands.”

“Yesf Sirf!”

Rusty opened his shirt up and pulled some of it out from his slacks. He looked down at her and ordered, “Look at me.” She did, but he slapped her again. “What do you say!”

“Yesf Sirf!”

“Good. Good.” Rusty squatted in front of her and asked, “So, you want me to collar you?”

“Yesf Sirf!”

“Really? So-.”

“Yesf Sirf!”

SLAP!

“Don’t interrupt me, Slave!”

“Yesf Sirf!”

“As I was saying,” began Rusty again, “you do believe all women should be dominated by all men?”

“Yesf Sirf!”

“I ought to call a lezdom friend of mine and tell her what you said. Have her come here wearing her prized strap on and make you suck it and fuck it instead of my cock.”

“Yesf Sirf!”

“You bitch, I thought you wanted to suck my cock, eat my cum?”

“Yesf Sirf!”

“But, you want to be dominated by a woman?”

“Yesf Sirf!”

“Christ, you know what: in your case, you’re right, you need at least someone to control you because you don’t know what the fuck you want!”

“Yesf Sirf.”

Rusty could tell she was trying not to cry; he went a little far apparently with mentioning other women. He caressed her face kindly and said, “Straight women need to be controlled by straight men, Slave. That’s what needs to happen here. I’m not convinced that you are convinced. Don’t worry: I’ll get your mind right.”

“Yesf Sirf.”

Rusty grabbed the collar, forced her head down, and proceeded to belt the collar around her neck. Finished he lifted her head up to look at the collar; it had lots of D-rings on it, including one built into the plated word ‘SLAVE’ in the front. “Stand up, Slave.”

“Yesf Sirf.” Slave eased herself up, holding the long lead in both her hands. The fuck me boots made it a challenge, but she managed.

“Quiet now; arms folds together behind your back,” ordered Rusty. He threaded one end of the lead through the D-ring in the front, pulling it through until he felt it was half-way threaded. He stepped around her as her arms came together on the small of her back. He made her cup her right hand around her left arm, and then guided her left hand to do the same on her right arm. She moaned.

“Quiet!” Slave nodded. Rusty ordered, “Open those legs up. Wider!” She did, and he fed the lead between her legs. Her legs narrowed as if to close around the lead, and he gave her ass a very, very hard smack. “Shut up, and keep those legs apart! I’m not telling you again, bitch!”

Satisfied with her stillness and silence, Rusty very carefully felt for her pussy, and found it easily; it was literally bulging through her latex; epic camel toe. He fingered it quickly, causing her to shudder, causing him to smile when he discovered the built-in fuck hole in her epic cat suit. He fed the lead right down the middle of her cunt and, with a short jerk upward he gave her an epic wedgie that eventually made her stand precariously on her tiptoes. Carefully, he waited until she set her heels down before threading both ends of the lead through the back D-ring. He proceeded for the next five minutes to perform a complex tie; when finished, each end of the tether had been wrapped around each forearm individually, knotted in the middle. Slave moaned as Rusty stepped back to let her feel the full effects of the bondage; her arms wanted to go down, but that only drove the leads further up her crotch.

“Don’t that feel good, Slave?” asked Rusty with a wicked grin.

“Yesf Sirf!” moaned Slave.

Rusty spotted a pair of short leather buckling restraints. Normally they were used to secure someone’s wrists together, but their cuff size allowed for ambiguity. He took them, ordered, “Hold still, Slave.” She acknowledged him and he got the cuffs on, pulling each buckle tight.

“Now go find me a tethered pair of nipple clamps, Slave,” ordered Rusty. Slave looked at him apprehensively as she teetered on her fuck me boots. “This is your place, you know where they are, go get them! Hurry up! I’ll give you five minutes; if you’re not back in time you’re going to be in big trouble!”

“Yesf Sirf!” Slave took too long a step and nearly fell. She squeaked, then moaned as the leather lead gripped her loins. She found she could only shuffle along, so she embarrassingly shuffled her feet forward as fast as she could. The tightness of her bondage resisted even these small movements, and again whenever she felt like she was going to fall she had to bend over, and all that did was rubbed and burn her pussy.

“She’ll never make it,” chuckled Rusty evilly. Even if she did, he was going to punish her anyways. Still, he felt she really needed to put in an effort and found a carriage whip conveniently hanging on a nail next to a chain suspension system. Grabbing the whip, he walked out of the dungeon and found her shuffling like mad.

“Faster!” Rusty came behind her and began to whip her bottom. Slave yelped, tried to yank her arms down to block the next strike, and only tortured her clit more in the process. “I don’t hear you!”

“Yes Sir!” she screamed so much it defeated the gag. He chased her, making her nearly fall numerous times.

“As you said, women need to be tamed and they need to be taught.” Rusty kept giving her a steady diet of strikes as they walked. She reached a table, where various types of nipple clamps were laid out.

“Oh good, we’re here.” Rusty loosened the tie gag and moved it around her neck. He then spun it around and tightened it, making sure it fit around her delicate neck. He instructed, “Now, use your teeth and pick up the tethered clamps I want.”

“Yes Sir,” said Slave, painting and near tears. The table was low, and at first she went to bend over, but stopped when the leather nibbled deeper into her pussy and ass. She went to bend at her knees, but Rusty grabbed his tie on her neck and jerked her up.

“No, wrong: bend at your waist, Slave.”

“Yes Sir,” whimpered Slave. Halfway bent over she cried out as her crotch burned and her arms climbed up her back. She struggled for balance, rubbing her legs together, which only made things worse.

“Hurry up, Slave, you’re running out of time,” stressed Rusty. He gave her ass a slap with his hand. “I don’t hear you.”

“Yes Sir!” Slave forced herself down, moaning, using her nose to push aside the clamps. She managed to wrap her teeth and lips around a three-chain clamp. She stood up, moaning, to show off the nipple clamps and clit clamp device.

“Lovely idea, Slave,” began Rusty. He took them from her mouth, and then threw them over his shoulder, “but wrong. Choose again!”

“Yes Sir!” Again she bent down. Rusty began to rub her ass affectionately, admiring how amazing her ass was, and how extra smooth her latex made it. She went to stand up, but he slapped her ass.

“I’m not finished, Slave,” he admonished. She whimpered her reply as he continued to smooth his hand down each flank. “Now stand up.”

Slave did and showed him a good pair of tethered nipple clamps. They were the kind that was great for tit torture, where weights could be added on the link. He took them, and he tossed them aside.

“Wrong, wrong again, and time is up,” he said with a shake of his head. Rusty grabbed a pair of linked nipple clamps with a very short link. “Open your mouth.” She did, and meretriciously he placed the chain just behind her very bright teeth, right behind the canines. He used his hands to force her mouth closed, letting the chain and the clamps dribble out of her mouth.

“Now,” he began, “the chain is just too short, so I’m going to have to lift these big tits of yours and put the clamps on her nipple rings.” He smiled as he stroked her leathery hair one time. “Under no circumstances are you to let go of the chain. And when I am done, you’re to walk back to the dungeon with her head held up high. Understand?”

“Yeph Sirpf,” mumbled Slave.

Rusty laid the carriage whip aside, snatched up her left nipple ring and tugged it upward. Slave yelped, but another tug by Rusty made her stop moving. He found, even with her awesome latex, he could lift the tit up. He took his time to snap the clamp on the ring, and then he let the breast slowly go. Her breast dropped an inch, and her nipple stretch uncomfortably upward.

“One more, now, hold still.” Rusty snatched up the breast, and in moments he admired Slave’s new ‘clamp bra’. He positioned himself around her, pulled up on the crotch tether, and instructed, “March! Don’t you dare drop your head.”

Slave shuffled as quickly as she could for the dungeon, back the way she came. Rusty stopped her with a quick tug upward and said, “You know what? Show me the rest of your apartment!” She moaned, sounding frustrated. He grabbed her leathery hair and slowly pulled it back. His other hand grabbed her chin to force her mouth closed as he pulled her head back, pulling on her marvelous tits. She quietly wept as the pain just grew.

“I thought you said,” he began gently when her head was as back as he could get it, just as her mouth was forced open by the limits of the chain, “you would do anything to drink my cum, Slave?”

“Uh,ah, uh, Yesh Sar, uhhhh!” moaned Slave.

“Then what was that moan just now?”

“Yesh Sirh!”

“Answer me!”

“Yesh SIRH!”

He let the hand holding her by the chin drop down to play with her left breast. They were incredible to squeeze; so soft. She shuddered and groaned. He said, “I guess I am going to have to correct you and take the tour of your apartment by myself.” He lessened the current torture on her and gave her a few seconds to collect herself. He then made her walk back to the dungeon, taking the most direct route.

Inside the room Rusty made her stand before the innocent looking torture device. It looked like a large pet bird’s perch. Somewhat down from the cross bar that made up the perch was two conical points, one on each side, base welded to the main pole with very sharp points on the end. Towards the bottom were short shackles on heavy chains large enough to accommodate any leg. At the base was a foot peddle, and just under the cross bar perch was a light switch in the off position.

Rusty bent down and removed Slave’s leg restraints. He then reached and removed the chain of the nipple clamps from her mouth. He took his tie off her neck and off of her completely. He then ordered, “Stay here and keep quiet.”

He left and came back with some leather cord from one of the tables they passed on the way back to the dungeon. Observing the length of the perch, he then grabbed Slave’s left arm and led her towards it. At the moment, it appeared she could barely straddle it, but he ordered, “Get on it.”

“Yes Sir!” Slave spread her legs, and then forced herself on her toes to just get over the end of the perch. The conical points put a stop to her forward progress, and her tied up form settled on the cross rod.

Rusty bent over to grab Slave’s left leg, and with force he pulled it out until she yelp and had to stand more on her left leg. He had her leg out until it was past the conical point, and then he brought her leg back towards the point until he could fasten the shackle around her ankle. He inserted the locking pin, let go of the leg, and she barely could stand on it. He worked on her right leg, and immediately she moaned in protest from the discomfort. He ignored her, and once finished her legs were spread open, her feet barely on the floor, and the points barely jabbing against her inner thighs.

Rusty took the cord and wrapped most of it around the base of the stand. He lead the slack up and wrapped it a few times around the chain linked to her nipple clamps, which were still only linked to her nipple rings. Finished, she had no difficulty sitting up with the tethering, but the cross bar of the perch was grinding into her crotch along with the tethering that still bound her.

Rusty spotted the big red ball gag hanging beside the perch, grabbed it, and forced it on her. He yanked the straps until he was sure Slave was figuratively swallowing it, then buckled it. Finished, he put his foot on the pedal on the base and began to repeatedly step on it. Slowly, on every step, the pole climbed; Slave climbed with it. After the fifth pump, she moaned for three seconds as her feet left the floor, and the perch became her only solid purchase. Rusty was not finished, however; he kept pumping his foot, noting that the heavy chains on her ankle shackles were only starting to go taunt; the cord around chain of her clamps had yet to tighten. Eventually, as Slave went up, the chains pulled her down. As her legs were pulled down, her pussy was forced to take up her body weight, and her thighs were forced to close on those sharp tips of those jutting points. Her booted feet were only an inch off the ground when it became worse, but it might as well been a mile; in short time her tormented crotch was feeling the pressure. He didn’t stop pumping his foot until the tether on her nipple clamp chain was pulled down.

Slave was painting, squirming, and moaning. The weight of the chains just pulled her down. The sharp points on the sides of the pole forced her to spread her legs open. Her nipples were cruelly being pulled down. Every little remedy for one thing just created problems in other areas of her body. She struggled little, and helplessly, to find comfort.

“To think, this is only punishment,” Rusty said to torment her. “Wait until we get to the fun stuff.” He reached down below the perch and behind her to push the light switch there to the on position. The perch her pussy was riding on began to loudly vibrate. She managed a terrible yelp from her gagged mouth.

“I’m going to tour your apartment now,” said Rusty. “Don’t worry I’ll be back in time.” He turned and left the room, which upon doing that he heard Slave give a shout of displeasure before going into a long, painful, pleasurableset of repetitively moaning.

Just outside the room Rusty just removed the rest of his clothing; he wasn’t going to have any of it stained, he lucked out that Slave hadn’t pissed or cum on him. He still couldn’t believe his luck and this apartment tonight, and indeed he was curious about this mysterious woman. Hearing her having the first of many helpless orgasms, he began his tour by walking down to the next door along the wall.

Opening the door and turning on the light, Rusty found a small room with a built in floor basin, a spray nozzle above, a bondage frame, various hoses, an enema bottle, and a gas mask among other things. It looked to be a play for Enema Play, or Water Sports, or who knew what else.

He went to another room that was a bit bigger and ran near the larger room Slave was in; he could barely hear her moaning through the walls. Here, turning on the light to find it poorly lit to generate a feeling of doom, was a lot of rope and lot of places to tie the rope off. It was clearly a Rope Player’s paradise.

Rusty went back across the play pen of sin that should have been the living room instead of a glorified fetish shop and went in the room next to the first room they went in. Light turned on, he found it was an entrance to two rooms – one divided by a wall – where one room had a dog house, a dog bowl, and newspaper, and the other room had a bowl labeled ‘Puss’ and very big ball of pink yarn and other cat toys. He left that room, opened what should have been a coat closet, and found Pony Play gear. A framed picture on the back wall under a lamp light caught his eye; he leaned in and saw a group of women in leather riding gear standing beside a horse mock up. On closer look he saw a pair of familiar latex-covered breasts; Slave was apparently in some bondage articulation that mimicked a horse.

The next room was for Medical Play: surgical masks, nurse’s uniform, fake IVs, the gyno-table, the fake bottle of oxygen with gas mask labeled ‘sex gas’, and the vast array of medical devices. After this, Rusty told himself to remember to ask her for her web addresses for these porn sites she ran.

Upstairs, he found more rooms. The smallest room was simple: it was a pure fuck room, complete with a bondage construct that forced the person bent over. The next small room was also a fuck room, but clearly that was designed for someone to be forced to look up, or bend back. He found another Medical Play room. He found a simple bathroom. He found another door at the end, presumably Slave’s normal bedroom, and found it locked. The other rooms were somewhat under construction still, or just barren.

“Poor thing,” mused Rusty with more curiosity than sincerity, “bondage and fetish is all you got in life. No pics, no family by the looks of it.” He walked a few more steps into the last room near the stair well, heard her wail, and smiled. “Those forced orgasms must be painful now.”

He turned, but stopped when he spotted an oddity he missed behind the door. Rusty slowly closed the door; something partially covered under a drop cloth. When the door closed enough it pulled the rest of the drop cloth off, revealing an oil drum. It was very old, rusty; it was black once based on its remaining paint. Part of it was burnt. What caught his eye prior to its reveal was the white, faded Asian writing on it; Slave did look a bit Asian in her eyes, although she didn’t sound foreign. Now looking at it fully, he saw there was some German there, too. It read clearly:

WARNUNG: EINE GUMMIMÄDCHENSACHE!

“Gummi? ‘Rubber’, I know that one,” mused Rusty. He only did because he knew some of the foreign vernaculars in bondage and fetish from visiting foreign online stores; his wife just adored DeMask. In fact his wife was learning German, just so she could sound like a German dominatrix next time they played.

Rusty read it some more and mumbled to himself, “’Eine’… ‘A’, I think.” He figured the first part was ‘Warning’ because of the ‘W’ and the exclamation point at the end. Beyond that, the rest of it made no sense to him; they weren’t German fetish words. He made a note to ask his wife, so he repeated the word silently over and over until he felt he got the gist of it. He would just tell her he got curious about German phrases, done an online search, and came up with it.

One other thing that caught his eye was some painted rectangle just above the German words. It was small, partially burned, and it had a holeright in the middle of it. The red rectangle actually looked uniformed, like a flag, and it looked like it was framing something….a white circle…but the hole obscured the rest of it.

“Fucking weird,” said Rusty with a head shake. “Man, I like this girl.” He left the room quickly, but remembered to slow down at the stairs. He wanted to take his sweet, sweet time getting back to the moaning Slave.

By the time he entered what he dubbed the Dungeon Room, Slave was squirming nonstop on her narrow perch, in both agony and in ecstasy. The perch and the floor were just covered in her fluids; she was leaking as he stood in front of her, to let her see him naked. He looked into her eyes and saw she was in that realm known as Sub Space; her body and mind were in two different places; here and somewhere else; enjoying and suffering in two different realities. She saw his rock hard cock and she growled in her gag.

“Well, I see your pussy is wet,” he teased. Slave gave her bondage a rigorous, and foolish, shake with her body and wailed as everything punished her; the sharp points, her bruised pussy, her cramping arms and shoulders, and her poor, pulled tits. “Would you like off that perch, my little bird?”

Slave let out some orgasm-building noises before sounding out a garbled “Yes Sir!” around the ball gag, which caused built-up, clean and clear drool to drip slowly out of the corners of stretched lips, buffing her latex face.

“First, you will have to pass my inspection,” chided Rusty. He came to her left side and squeezed her latex breast, causing her to squirm and peep. He ran a finger up the middle of her back starting just above her ass, causing her to reflexive sit up, causing her to pull back and torture her nipples more.

Rusty stopped when Slave lulled her head back and he saw a tear dribble down her left side from the corner of her eye. As much as he liked to dish it out, and take it as well, and making his wife and this one cry out, he wasn’t a fan of falling tears. He composed himself to keep himself from yanking her completely off and untying her to maintain their ritual. He shut off the perch, depressed and lowered the perch, unhooked the nipple clamps, undid her legs, and picked her up. He made her stand up, finding Slave was very willing to place her legs apart as if her inner thighs were still being stabbed by the those sharp points. He undid her bondage, and she moaned loudly in her gag, shuddered, and had a squirting orgasm when the leather leads fell from her crotch. Her legs shook and buckled; some more of her cum tinkled out.

However, given her relief from duress, Slave shook her arms out for a moment and put them back behind her in that hands gripping arms position. She kept her legs spread. She raised her head and waited for her Master’s next command.

From behind Slave, Rusty reached up and loosened the ball gag enough to just remove the ball from her mouth. He let it hang around her neck. Still from behind he cupped her pussy: it felt like pure jelly to his touch. He felt her wanting to close her legs, her thighs moving inward just a fraction of an inch before she moaned and forced them open.

“Did you like your punishment, Slave?” he asked sweetly as he fingered her.

“Yes…Sir!” moaned Slave.

“Oh I bet you didn’t,” he said. “For lying I’ll punish you later. But I must admit you are putting in the effort to convince me that you are a willing submissive.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, and brought his offending hand down the front of her crotch to just rub her fuck hole. She shuddered, but held firm. She could his dick against her ass cheeks; he could tell she was trying not to swing her pussy, or perhaps her asshole, on his hard on.

“Still, after all that, you’re stilling wanting to close her legs to me.”

“Y-…Yes Sir,” stuttered Slave.

“Well, there’s the truth, finally.” Rusty withdrew from her, and she clearly stifled another moan of angry frustration. He gave her ass a slap and walked around towards the front. “On your knees, your legs still spread apart.”

“Yes Sir.” Slave slowly dropped to her knees, but held her arms still behind her.

Rusty watched her lock her eyes on his cock; he was right there, naked, in front of her after all. He could see honest hunger for it in her Asian eyes. He said, “Look at me, look up!” She did. “You still want me cock?”

“Yes Sir!”

“You want to suck it!”

“Yes Sir!”

Rusty moved closer to her and expected Slave to grab it. “Look at me,” he ordered when she looked at his approaching male member. “Keep still.”

“Yes Sir!”

Reaching down with an evil grin, Rusty grabbed the ball gag and put it back in her mouth. After tightening it, he grabbed his enlarged boner and wiggled it in front of her. She eyed it. “No, look up at me! Don’t look at my cock!”

Slave peered up at him. He moved closer and began to tap the end of her nose with his cock. Her dark eyes crossed a few times, but she fought the urge and continued to look into his eyes. He grabbed her head, moving it along his cock. He rubbed his cock across the sleek, black latex surface; Slave noticeably closed her eyes as if she could feel it. He repeatedly rubbed her cheeks; each time he changed sides he ran the head of his cock over the ball gag, keeping it from touching her lips.

Rusty then gave her a slap with his cock. It made a noise, too, and Slave noticeably flinched. He slapped her again with it, and again, trading sides of her face. Each time she moaned and jumped as if struck by lightning. He bounced it of her chin as if he was thinking, trying to get her to look at it so he could get her to look at it. Slave was doing her damnedest not to.

To distract her, Rusty said, “You know, after touring your apartment,” and he began to stroke his cock, “I’ve come to the conclusion” and she was really, really trying not to look for her eyes were now wide open “that you are who you say you are: a submissive cum whore. Are you a submissive cum whore?”

“Yesf Sirf!” drooled Slave through the ball gag.

“So if I ever came back here and said ‘suck me cum whore’, you wouldn’t hesitate to do it?”

“Yesf Sirf!”

“Would you like to suck me now?”

“Yesf Sirf.” That time it came out as a starving plea.

Rusty withdrew from her and stopped playing with himself. He said, “No. I don’t want you to suck my cock.” She looked ready to cry again. He said, “I want to fuck your mouth instead. Go get that locking drain plug gag you were harping about earlier, Slave.”

“Yesf Sirf!” She was giddy and up quickly.

“Walk, and I do mean walk normally,” ordered Rusty, stopping her. “If you trip and fall, or sprang your ankle, I won’t be fucking you period. I will be teaching you to walk on a knotted crotch rope instead. Understood!”

“Yesf Sirf!”

“Okay, now take your time.”Rusty could hear her panting long before she had hurried back from leaving, to which she went from a quick walk to a slow walk upon her return. Slave dropped to her knees, legs apart of course, bowed her head in submission and presented him her favorite sexual bondage device.

Rusty took it from her and studied it, and as he did he had thoughts. It was an insane thing drain plug gags, or better known as Asian bondage masks on some Japanese websites; people really couldn’t make up their mind really what to call them, even if drain plug gag fit this one best based on its design. This drain plug gag was very well made; it had thick leather, studded, with many straps that could be adjusted including the strap over the head and the strap under the chin. The stopper was thick and typical, protruding deep past the chrome opening when worn, and it was hooked to a stopper chain that hooked to a bottom rivet. The opening itself – perhaps the reason why not many women wanted to wear them – was large; at the very least it could accommodate Rusty’s package.

Rusty removed Slave’s ball gag and dropped it on the floor. Slave had put her hands behind her back again, but there was no point of telling her to stop moving; she was shaking in excitement. Once he untangled it, Rusty shoved the drain in her mouth, pushing it hard against her teeth. He tightened the two main belts around her head before moving to the head strap and chin strap. He kept re-tightening after each check to see if it fit to keep poor Slave in suspense.

“Stay,” ordered Rusty. Slave tried to “Yes Sir”, but she just couldn’t. He reached down and with a subtle yet noticeable jerk he removed the rubber stopper and let it dangle. He grabbed her arms, pulled them forward, slid and grabbed her hands, then made her hands lift, squish, and hold her breasts together. “Stay.”

Slave tried to speak again, managed only noise. He left her to go to that Rope Room he visited earlier. He took his time again, picking out white cords because he was going to enjoy the visual of it on her black latex body. He found a pair of black latex panties in the available clothing on one of the floor tables and anextra-long vibrating dildo.

Returning, Rusty found that Slave’s drain plug gag opening was lathered up with her spit. Unable to close her slutty mouth, rivets of drool had cascaded from the opening to land on her held-together breasts. “Let go, hands behind your head, Slave.” She complied, and he went to work; of course, with the rope work, her mouth would be punished and she would be drooling uncontrollably even more. She wasn’t showing she was humiliated, not at this point, but Rusty didn’t care because he thought she was humiliated, and that just made his cock harder.

Finished, Slave was moaning from everything. Her mouth was sore from being open for so long; the pain through the rest of her body was trying its best to catch up; it was a complicated tie job that he had done. Each leg was bent at the knee with thigh and calves tied together. Her legs were pried apart by ropes linking to the opposite arm behind her back; right wrist pulled to left thigh, left wrist to right thigh. Another rope linked her crossing forearms together, then it was tethered to a ring on top of the drain plug gag to keep her head upright. She wore a rope bra; the ropes were wrapped tightly around her breasts at the base, and then linked around her torso; it looked just like a bra, just without the cups. Adding to her discomfort and pleasure was the latex panties he had her put on before tying her up, and the very long vibrating dildo protruding out of her pussy, held in place barely by the latex panties. It was vibrating her relentlessly.

Rusty wasted no more time. He grabbed Slave, made her sit up in her bondage; the ropes tightened everywhere, making her want to pull away. But Rusty had his cock in his hand and reminded her, “Remember, you would do anything to suck my cock. Now you don’t have a choice.” He used both hands to hold her by her fake hair – it was surprisingly resilient – and proceeded to fuck her mouth.

It was at first a bit of a challenge. Slave was sitting low, and by the design of the bondage she had to be. Rusty’s cock was so hard it naturally curled upward, so forcing it down on a slight angle took away some of his leverage. It became more challenging as the kinky moment wore on. He gave her no warm up; he just drilled for the back of her mouth. Her warbling with each of his thrusts just made his dick throb. Her tongue could flick his shaft in passing. Her mouth was just moist. The act of defilement was way too fucking hot, overtaking the disadvantages.

Rusty’s legs buckled as he refrained from erupting, and he pulled out. Slave moaned and whimpered, clearly wanting his cock. Instead, like a good sadist, he retreated but kept pulling up on her head. He bent down, grabbed the vibrator, and began fucking her relentlessly with it. She whined and whinnied; screaming was too hard to do with her forced-open mouth. He did this, doing it until she was nearly crying and was literally jumping out of her latex skin. A puddle quickly formed under her crotch visibly on the floor.

Rusty turned his attention back to her mouth and plunged his dick in. He stopped, his cock deep in Slave’s gullet, and very carefully pinched her nose closed. He then let go of her head, held her by her pinched nose, and said, “Stay up! Stay up, don’t you back down! Stay up!”

Remarkably she did, coughing a few times, but her muscles never gave out despite the pain of the ropes. Eventually Rusty let her go. He pulled her head back and was on autopilot at this point. He played with himself, face red, dick redder, and then barely got his penis head in the drain hole when he ejaculated. Some of it splashed on Slave, but he pumped the rest in her forced-open mouth.

Slave shuddered when his ejaculate landed on her. She made yummy-like sounds when it landed in her mouth. Some found the back of her throat. She made more noises and whimpered for more cum. She bounced in her ropes, hoping it wasn’t over; praying to her God he wasn’t done.

Rusty bent over and began ramming that vibrator repeatedly into her crotch. Again, Slave screeched and couldn’t stop her head from shaking at least once. As he pumped her, Rusty pumped his cock; he looked just as lost in his eyes as she was. He saw his cum slowly dripping out of the drain plug gag. It dripped much slower than spittle. As he fucked her pussy with the vibrator, her head shook and body jumped, causing the semen to be flung, and it stuck on other parts of her body; her hair, her tits. It strung on her like pearls.

Pulling her up by the flog-braid hair again, Rusty pumped her mouth again. Seeing the semen dripping from her mouth gave him sudden incentive and found the will to pump more jizz in her pie hole. It felt easier, quicker. The existing semen lubricated the hole well, and sooner than previous he came again; a short, slightly painful shot. Slave took it, gurgled it, moaning in glee.

Withdrawing, covered in sweat, Rusty did all he could to get his cock hard again while he tilted Slave’s head back. He let her drown in sperm; she coughed, but otherwise she showed little resistance to what he was doing. He reached down momentarily to pump her pussy with the vibrator. This time it was faster, violent pumps. She struggled and withered, and a fresh puddle of pussy spittle splashed out. He didn’t stop until he saw tears in her eyes. This time, tears did not make him stop.

Panting, Rusty plugged the stopper back in the drain plug gag. Like a beast possessed, he picked the tied up bundle of Slave, hooking his arms under her legs, his hands grabbing her arms still behind her. He thrust his hips, but he made no contact with her cunt for several pumps. Instinctively, as pussy juice found cock head, he lowered her enough on his extra-long male member.

The both of them were grunting like trapped animals. Slave bound and gagged, mouth full of choking cum. Rusty ensnared by her rocking latex body in bondage with her super soaking vagina giving his phallus new, hardening life. Her hole, after all that punishment, after her clit gushing like a sprinkler, was ultra-tight; it felt like it was strangling his ‘chicken’.

Slave’s eyes crossed before they completely closed and all she did was utter nonsense. Rusty oozed sex; muscles working, soaked in sweat, exercising his sex organ, pushing it past its limits. Both felt the growth, the ever changing length, the expanse of width. Her weight began to play against his cock, which seemingly made the rest of it want to keep growing without his body. He growled as well, gritting his teeth as his heart raced and his breathing became deeper, yet shorter.

His knees buckled.

Her head just rolled on her neck like it was on a swivel.

He saw spots.

She saw stars.

He felt cold.

She felt her insides get warm. It caused her to melt.

Reality sped up for the both of them as Rusty and Slave realized that they had climaxed together. His pumping and her moans just kept going, but they were merely afterthoughts. Both were exhausted, but Rusty was the man; he stayed up, even as his pumping stopped and his rational conscious slowly returned. Slave leaned as much as she could towards him, as much as the bondage would let her, but she was helpless to help him.

Carrying her, letting his cock slip out of her latex slit, Rusty carried her over to the torture rack table and set her down on it. He removed the gag carefully and set it down behind her still attached by the rope around her arms. Before we went to work on the ropes, Slave closed her mouth, swished, and then opened her mouth again to show him there was still cum in her mouth. She kept her sore mouth open.

Tiredly, Rusty said, “Now swallow, Slave.”

She smiled, rolled her head back, and worked her throat. Slave brought her head back, smiled, and said, “Thank you, Master.”After he untied her and stepped back, she then walked up to him and gave him a very sexual kiss. This lead to him to kiss her back, which caused her to give him directions, which caused the both of them to go somewhere else in the apartment.

The time was lost to Rusty, so when he awoke suddenly in a bed, in a dark room with a window to the outside filled with moon light he took those few seconds to remember things. He remembered untying Slave. He recalled removing the vibrator and panties. He recollected carrying her to a room he wasn’t aware of – this room – which had the bed and a bathroom for a shower: he didn’t take one for he fell right into bed without another thought.

Rusty was not sure what woke him; he was still pretty tired. He passed it off as one of those things that happened after an epic fucking night like the one he had. He heard a mew, looked down, and found Slave curled up next to him. She – STILL! – was wearing her black latex, but he could feel her boots were off; she could feel her toes move up and down his calf; he could feel they were covered in latex too. At least the bed was normal: it was floral pink and cotton everything.

Rusty stroked that fake hair of Slave’s and just shook his head at all her latex. He heard stories, and they had to be crazy, about life style fetishes who live with, or rather in, their fetish twenty-four hours a day all the time, including holidays. Those stories were pretty unbelievable to him, although they were sexy and hot. He shook his head again, thinking that there had to be a few Internet bondage stars out there that could back up their stories; this unknown woman in disguise was just one of them. Just thinking that, too, caused Rusty’s junk to stir; his dick had some life left; it felt ready to go.

“Huh?” Slave mumbled peacefully.

“Hey,” whispered Rusty in her near ear. He felt compelled to kiss her cheek. He pressed his cheek against her cheek. “I’m sorry I got crazy there. I’m crazy with sub girls, but never that crazy. You all right?”

“Hungry.” she mumbled and drew herself tighter to him.

Somehow, Slave’s body movements were driving Rusty nuts. He realized that his cock was being played with. He chuckled and mused, “You’re one tough broad you know that? You kept coming back for more.” He shuddered. “Well, I made you CUM back for more.”

She just wrapped herself tighter against him. Her snuggling was affectionate. Her cock play was making him very hard.

“You’re special, you know: Strange, but special.” Rusty kissed her cheek again and squeezed her in his arms. “I’ll remember this, maybe we’ll meet again. But I got to get going.”

“Hungry.”

He felt sudden drawing and shuddered from it. Rusty licked his lips and said, “Yeah, I’m an l-little hungry fuck Christttttttttttt!” He felt Slave shifting her body, and he felt his dick now surrounded by the familiar moisture found only deep inside a woman’s pussy. “Oh, ah, Fuck, Slave, really…you don’t have to cook…or…fuck me twice!”

“I’m hungry,” moaned Slave. “Be quiet and sleep. Go back to sleep. So good. Oh so good. Hmmmmm.”

Sleep sex, thought Rusty. He chagrinned at that: personally, he thought sleep sex was total bullshit – he ought to know, he pulled it on his wife more than once, roll over, quick fuck, and pretend it never happened. He knew because his wife never done it. First time he ever knew a woman to do it. He didn’t know the time, but he figured he had enough time for one more romp. He also figured to let Slave do it; the woman had practically been fucked over by the ‘Rusty jackhammer’.

“Yeah, I know,” he whispered in her ear. He peeked out an eye, and saw her latex toes. He felt her latex hands were on different parts of his body. The body moved a little, but only a little, and the wrong way; the wrong way being that she was fucking him like a lazy cowgirl hovering over her ‘saddle’. Her hips should have been working, yet his cock was being pulled by…

“What…the hell….Slave?” Rusty moved.

“No, lie still.”

Rusty flicked the sheet off of them. In that brief moment there was clarity, and he saw what looked like a tentacle coming from Slave’s crotch. The tentacle, black and slick like the rest of her body, was curled around his balls and his cock, throbbing, rubbing, and sliding in an up and down direction. The head of the thing looked like a woman’s pussy, and it was fitting itself slowly over the head of his penis like a snake swallowing a mouse. When it made contact, it wrapped itself over his cock and felt like a well lubricated condom.

“JESUS CHRIST!” Rusty snapped out of his sexually-induced delirium. The moment of clarity passed and was replaced by a moment of panic filled with fright. The bed broke from his panic. The man was kicking and screaming; the ‘woman’ was slithering and splashing!

Rusty was suddenly on his feet and running, left the room sprinting, nearly flying off the upstairs balcony to the bondage floor below; he nearly forgot there was no rail on this part of the apartment. He turned sharply for the stair. He jumped every third step and fell into a roll on the hard wood floor. In fright he ignored his clothes and ran right for the front door. He clawed and scratched for the door knob.

Only there was no door know.

There was only a steel plate. The door could only be opened from the outside.

Rusty turned around when he realized his predicament. “FUCK!” He ran back towards the main floor of bondage clothes and accessories to find another way out. There were no windows here. He recalled no windows in the other rooms except where he had come from.

“Master.” Slave’s voice shocked him into looking up. There she was, in her perfect latex body, on the edge of the second floor looking down. He could see her latex pussy now; the labia were puckering, and it drooled cum-like spittle. It was hungry for cum; always hungry for cum! “There’s no need to panic.”

“Shit!” Rusty ran back up the short stairs to the open kitchen. He sought a weapon. There was no cutlery.

“I only consume sperm, Master.” Slave slowly headed for the stairs. “And water: I have water in the fridge. Help yourself; it will calm you down so we can talk.”

He kept checking the other drawers. No fry pans. No forks. Hell, no sporks.

“I have no family, no friends.” Slave was walking calmly down the stairs as Rusty tore the kitchen apart. “I only have strangers over for dinner.”

Rusty opened the refrigerator. Inside were plastic bottles of water and glass bottles of milk. He grabbed the milk bottle and broke it to make a weapon. It was not milk; the sperm stuck on everything and some of it splashed into his eye. He dropped his broken glass weapon and it shattered.

“Fucker!” There was Slave, right at the base of the small stair, almost ready to box him in. “That was one of my sweet snacks I love warmed up!”

Fleeing, Rusty punched past Slave and ran up the other set of stairs; the one he took earlier for the tour. He needed space; he hoped to hell one of those play rooms had something he could use to protect himself. He didn’t want to find out what she would do to him.

“There is no way out, Master,” said Slave unequivocally. “And there is nothing in this apartment that can actually hurt me! I am not human! And I’m not just a piece of latex with a mind of its own!”

Rusty made it to the first room and went through it…

“Ohhhhhhhhhh, Ahhhhhhhh, hurtssssssssss,” Slave yelled. She then pointed out, “I’m a fucking porn star, Master, I can fake it! Pain, Orgasms, Sincerity: it doesn’t matter! I leak my natural lubricant that gives me that lustrous shine through my pussy and you swinging dicks go ape shit!”

Rusty ran into the other room and tried to pry apart the fuck furniture…

Slave began climbing the stairs. “While the sex was fake most of my story I told you is true! I love men! I love sperm! I want a bunch of men to drain their cum down my throat! I don’t care how I get it done! Fans of my websites send me sperm in milk bottles upon request, but I can’t live on snacks: I need fresh daily goodness, straight from the bull!”

Rusty ran into the one of the other rooms: the Med Play room! His hopes came back…

Slave stopped and stood at the foot of the corridor at the top of the stairs, hands on hips; pussy lips still smacking between her legs. “I’m not the bad gal here.I honestly let many of my meals go after the first date. Some never find out what I really am; some pretend they don’t, but they don’t freak the fuck out even if we never meet again. They let me drink my fill, they sit back, relax the best they can, and they leave. Maybe they live to tell their story on a bondage fiction website!”

Slave frowned and said forcibly, “You did get carried away during play time. The physical exertion you put me through requires a considerable amount of your cum. If you would have just let me suck you in bed, and not cry like a bitch and run like a pussy, you wouldn’t be in this position. Now, because of circumstances as it relates to my health and what you know, I’m afraid you can’t leave until I am satisfied.”

Rusty found, to his joy, a pack of syringes. Some medical players dabbled into syringes; the serious ones did injections, but others used the sharp needles to poke and rake the flesh. He quickly tore them out of the packages and got the caps off of two of them…

“Oh Master.” Slave was at the door, shaking her head. “Please don’t make me beg.”

Rusty charged at her. He managed to get three syringes freed up and clustered in his right hand. He roared. He drove the needles right into her latex head. On impact, her head just folded inward, then swarmed around his offending hand. Suddenly, with his hand trapped, Slave’s head became her hands, her head reformed from the side, her body twisted, and Rusty went sailing!

Rusty crashed hard through the door, knocking it open, nearly knocking him out as he stumbled into the bondage construct. He saw Slave coming and frantically charged at her, grabbing her in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground. They hit the opposite door jam and bounced.

Rusty had Slave, but she was flattened against him as if she was nothing more than an empty latex cat suit. He hesitated as she chuckled at him. He whimpered out, “What the fuck are you?”

“Eine Gummimädchensache!” She laughed, repeating the phrase on the oil drum – from where she had actually oozed from a long time ago – that was just feet away in the next room.

She laughed a little more, and then suddenly her arms and legs seemingly wrapped around his body, around his arms and part of his legs, in a flood of black liquid. It solidified, went from latex to rubber.

Rusty fell as the rubber kicked his legs out from under him. He landed hard, but he was too terrified to be knocked out. He kicked, but that was all he could do; it was no use.

Slave head appeared to stretch elongated, and a very long snake of a tongue licked from her mouth to run across her own head. It returned to her mouth so she could speak. “Have you ever experienced Breath Play, Master?”

Slave drove her head at him, but instead of head butting Rusty Slave’s head opened up. Giant fingers stretched from the latex envelope, wrapped around his head, merging together on the back of his head and neck. Rusty felt it and screamed in terror as Slave’s latex goo of a head slithered and dripped slowly on him, on his face, on his head, sticking and pulling itself towards him. A tendril of it grabbed his tongue; another tendril became a phallus and began to fuck his mouth, choking him with deeper thrusts, massaging his tongue with excited throbs. The rest of the head merged and sealed itself around his head. He could not see. He could not hear. The living latex stretched tightly across his face, defining every feature, freezing it in permanent terror. His open mouth covered, the last of his breath pushed out and sucked in the thin material while his mouth was continuously violated by the pulsating tentacle. The rest of it wrapped around his neck. He was cut off from air; the rubber around his neck slowly squeezed like a boa constrictor. From Slave’s crotch the pussy stretched down and slid its tubular appendage over his cock, throbbing and massaging the man’s sex appendage while an inner mucus membrane covered and squeezed his balls.

Rusty struggled in this living nightmare, feeling this latex girl thing squeezing him, choking him, asphyxiating him, and sucking him off. He flailed helpless. He gagged on the fake cock in his mouth. He coughed. He gasped for air and only inhaled the scent of latex and odorless carbon dioxide. In the terror-filled moments that felt like years instead of seconds he could see flashbulbs going off in the darkness while everything except his dick went numb.

Suddenly, for just a moment, Rusty could breathe. There was a difference he could taste; air filled the back of his throat.

Suddenly, before he could gulp more air, the taste of rubber and scent of latex returned. His body was jolted with electricity from that brief moment of air. All that energy, however, rushed to his suckled-on cock. He grew harder; it grew so hard it hurt. It caused his pelvis to cramp. He was gasping again in moments.

Air filled his starved lungs again, and again his cock jolted to life: harder, longer, throbbing as if it replaced his heart. His balls grew sensitive to the squeezing. He couldn’t think.

Air again, dick harder.

Air again, cock longer.

Air again, and all the blood in his body seemingly only ran through his cock.

The gulps of air were further and further apart, but Rusty was not aware of the passage of time any longer. Before that it felt like minutes, but panic has a way of slowing precious few seconds down. The air deprivation multiplied the sensory deprivation minus the assault on his sperm wand, which was squared to bring forth a range of solutions to Slave’s sinister function. Consciously Rusty would not be enjoying this, but he was no longer operating on a conscionable level. As with sex, his body only responded to the stimuli; it was on autopilot, due to the lack of air doing its damage to his terrified mind.

Rusty gasped instead of moan, and although the tight hood muffled those loud gasps there was no mistaking what they signified. The labia snake contracted on his balls, slurped and convulsed faster. It made wet sounds, it also moaned loudly. Lubricant flushed in a spray, and finally a geyser of sperm was released from the terrified victim’s penis. To the man barely aware it felt like the release of cum was actually the splitting of his log, followed by the draining of all of his life fluids: blood, water, sweat.

The latex creature noticeably shuddered and continued to slurp and digest what came from the cock. In short time, the creature began to take a feminine shape again. The head was the first to reform, peeling off the head of the poor victim, whose lips were blue, eyes were blood shot from being choked, and mouth hung open with thick tongue hanging out. The thing peeled itself off his body save for his pelvis; there the main portion sat while reeling in its sucking tentacle, but never letting go of the phallus.

Reformed, the creature that let Rusty call her Slave wiggled on his limping, yet still pumping cock, and smacked the lips on her face together and made a long yummy sound. She closed what passed for eyes, the whites which were filled with swimming sperm, and placed her hands on her reformed breasts and played with them in delight of her fresh meal. She eyed her nipples, then felt her nose: her piercings, of course, fell out. She shrugged her shoulders: she did pierce herself before, she could do it again; it wasn’t as if it hurt because she doesn’t feel pain like humans do. Pain only feels pleasurable to her, but it never could compete with the rich, fulfilling pleasure of the taste of man’s cum.

Slave looked down at Rusty and said, “That’s always fun.” She gave his face a few love slaps; his eyes contracted to the strikes, which only made her smile. “Now, let’s play a new game.”

Slave got up and left Rusty on the floor, covered in sweat and his soil, but without one drop of semen to be found. He blinked his blank eyes every once in a while. He breathed; it was horse, wheezy, and shallow. He was alive, but he was not there. A man purely broken in body, mind, and spirit; his brain able to grasp stimulation and react instinctive to it, but not under a process of intelligence or under the guide of free will. For lack of a better explanation, Rusty was practically a zombie by the classic definition of the word.

Slave returned with a single key on a big, steel hoop. She reached down with her free hand, grabbed Rusty’s unusable hand, and with ease pulled him down the corridor. Such a tiny thing did not appear so strong until now, standing fully erect and walking easily towing the much heavier piece of meat.

Slave said as if he was capable of listening, “Now, Master, we switch. To be honest with you I don’t like dominating men. I don’t like subjecting them to humiliation, torture, teasing, and orgasm denial. I don’t like them begging, crying, talking.”

She dropped him to tend to that door at the end of the corridor Rusty found locked during his tour of the apartment earlier. She put the single key into the single lock, turned it, and the door popped open. Inside was a heavily padded, small room. In the middle of the room was a laid back chair with many straps and an opening in the seat, like a toilet seat.

Lying across the arms of the chair was a heavy rubber body suit, a mask, and other heavy rubber trimmings. Behind the chair was a life support system, complete with a ventilator and air tanks. Right of the chair was an full enema kit, its long hose connected to a very large, stainless steel butt plug with a removable insert; a catch basin was under the large opening in the chair. A catheter system was built in the chair. On the chairs’ left was an intravenous system to push saline and other fluids. Along the back wall was various lubricants and medicinal treatments, also various needles, other life sustaining measures, various size penis plugs with complimentary abilities for any need, as well as various means and methods of causing male erection and certain ejaculation, from pumps to shots to electricity. A sink with running water, soap, and sponges sat in the corner. All throughout the room, too, was digital video cameras that were currently hidden cleverly within the scene and were currently turned off. They only came on when Slave had something to show to her paying audience, and she never disappointed them.

Slave went back to Rusty, who was still in a permanent stupor, and still spoke to him as if he had a choice in his fate. “But I just love to do forced male orgasm experiments.”

With ease with one hand again, she grabbed Rusty’s limp hand and pulled him through the door. She cleared his feet from the door jam. She looked down at him, and she thought she saw his eyes shift around. She only smiled wickedly at him and mused, “I’m Frankenstein’s Monster, and you are my fucking milkshake!”

Slave closed the door, and sealed Rusty’s perverted doom.

THE END