Bitched by a Rubberdom
Dear R'dom Readers, I Can't stop thinking about it.
I thought I was too experienced, too jaded to find another fetish. Too locked in to the grooves that my own desires have etched in my brain over the years. Nothing new to wonder about. Or experience.
Until I had the privilege of HER presence.
I need to rubber immersed. Total rubber immersion. I want an outfit that covers my entire body. Rubber boots. Skin-tight rubber pants. Rubber underwear - with rubber inflatable butt plug. Rubber top (I saw one at Demask that I adored - no sleeves. You cross your arms in front, like a straight jacket. Fiendishly kinky). Rubber hod - with inflatable rubber ball gag. Rubber posture collar. Rubber harness.
Rubber. Rubber. Rubber.
Being made to kneel and sway on the floor. Straightjacketed. Mouth filled with the taste of the rubber ball gag. Sightless. Rubber ear coverings muffling all sound. The room temperature turned up. Sweat glistening on my skin, the smell of my own body, total sensory deprivation. The pain in the legs from kneeling.
Rubber. The smell of rubber. The feel of rubber on my skin. The bitter taste of rubber on my tongue.
Rubber enslavement.
Minutes hours how long? spent on the ground, immersed in rubber.
The occasionally pump by a strong hand that I cannot see - but is more real, more concrete than anything in my life. Squeeze pump. The butt plug grows. I moan. And sway.
Another squeeze. The ball gag swells. I gag. Can she hear me?!? Terror and fear. The shattering of a soul in a million pieces.
How long?
Rubber. Rubber. Rubber.
How long will she keep me like this?
Rubber. Rubber. Rubber.
Until I am addicted.
Until I learn.
- By BetkaSlave
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