Imprisoned

Master walked purposefully down the brightly lit corridor towards the subject’s cell.
He was looking forward to this, his erection pressing against his rubber suit a testament to this. He felt empowered by his outfit, polished to a high gleam by his attendants and with great care, lest they incur the wrath of Master. His outfit of rubber suit, rubber waders, elbow length industrial gloves, apron and expressionless hood conveyed a dominant presence.
This fact was not lost on the rubber clad attendant ahead of him, who immediately lowered his rubber hooded head to stare at his clipboard to write notes albeit awkwardly due to the thick rubber gauntlets he wore.
Master fixed his attention on the attendant. He was dressed in the uniform that was commanded by the Masters who worked here; head to toe gleaming rubber, knee high laced rubber boots, knee pads, hoods with padlocked collars, leather suspension harnesses, thick gloves and of course, in cb chastity and anally plugged. A ball gag hung around his neck should it be needed…
The attendant quickened his pace, not making any degree of eye contact. He was about to pass when Master spoke.
‘STOP!’ he said in a commanding tone. Instinctively the attendant dropped to his knees.
‘IS SUBJECT 1973 READY? The attendant thumbed awkwardly through his paperwork. ‘Yes Master, Cell 5’
‘I ASSUME HE IS DRESSED HOW I DESIRE?’ ‘Yes Master, as you desire’
With that, Master reached down and lifted the attendants rubber hooded head up to look him directly in the eye.
‘HE BETTER BE SLAVE OR ELSE IT IS YOU I WILL GRACE WITH MY ANNOYANCE! He said, making note of the attendants ID number on his collar and the precum trails on the thigh of his suit, an error to be noted.
With that, Master continued down the corridor, leaving the attendant to stand and continue his duties.
He arrived at the containment area and entered the access code into the door panel.
The mechanism clicked and swung open into a lower lit corridor which was lined with several doors. As he passed through, the door closed with a click.
Any other day, he would have looked in the other rooms through their view slots to see what other subjects were receiving but not today.
He reached Cell 5 and looked in. The cell was in stygian darkness and he smiled through his hood. He entered a further access code and walked in, reaching to his right to flick a switch. A series of spotlights illuminated a central area of the room.
Bathed in light, a single rubber clad figure struggled upon seeing his entrance.
Head to toe in black rubber, hooded, ballgagged and wadered, the figure was fastened into a leather suspension harness. His gauntleted hands were fastened to the cross bar of the suspension apparatus via heavy leather cuffs, spread apart for security. His hands opened and closed in vain against the restraints. His wadered ankles were spread via a bar and Master noted how the subject had been winched to stand on the balls of his feet. A black cb graced his genitals and a collar was fastened tightly around his neck. He struggled vainly, moaning through the ballgag but escape was impossible and this pleased Master greatly.
Master approached the struggling rubber clad form and then reached for a clipboard on a nearby medical trolley. He proceeded to walk around the subject and read through his notes.
‘SO YOU ARE NEW HERE’ he said dismissively as he walked.
‘ACQUIRED FROM ONE OF OUR FETISH CLUBS I SEE’ noting the heavy nasal breathing of the ballgagged subject who tried to rotate to keep this rubber clad captor in view but the winch mechanism had been locked into position.
‘AND YOU CAME ALONE’ he said with interest, just as he pulled level with the subject face.
Master met the subjects wide eyed stare through his rubber hood directly and spoke.
‘NOBODY SAW YOU LEAVE THE CLUB AND NOBODY KNOWS YOU ARE HERE’ he said, a wry smile on his face.
At this, the subject struggled vigorously and again tried to speak but to no avail, only succeeding in pushing pent up drool from under his ballgag, the liquid stringing down to his shiny black rubber chest.
This misdemeanour earned the subject a hard slap to his face, causing him to reel.
With that, the Master reached to the winch control that hung close by and pressed a button. A motorised sound filled the room as the subject was raised to tiptoe, causing them to struggle and their eyes to widen further.
‘NOW THEN, LET US BEGIN’
Master wheeled the trolley into the rubber slave’s view, causing more struggling and moans when he saw the implements upon it. Master proceeded to pull on some untalced examination gloves and then reached for the cb chastity keys.
He stood in front of the rubber slave and spoke. ‘I WILL NOT SOIL MY GLOVES WITH YOUR MESS’ and proceeded to remove the device, its interior slick with precum. Returning to the table, Master picked up a leather parachute and quickly snapped it into position around the top of the subject’s scrotum. He tested it with a firm pull, causing the slave to moan again.
‘MOAN AS MUCH AS YOU LIKE, NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU, THESE CELLS ARE SOUNDPROOFED’ said Master with pleasure as he removed the examination gloves and discarded them. Then he loaded a few select weights to the parachute and allowed the scrotum to take their full weight, the spike lined device applying discomfort to the struggling slave.
Next he turned his attention to the slave’s nipple zips and opened them to reveal fairly erect nipples, one decorated with some kind of tattoo around it, its black design vivid against the sweat slick skin. Master reached for a pair of clover leaf clamps and fixed them in position, much to the gagged protest of the slave. He ignored them.
Wrapping the clamps chain around his gloved fist, Master proceeded to pull, causing the clamps to bite more into the sensitive flesh and causing the slave to close his eyes to the stimulation.
‘SWING YOUR BALL WEIGHTS SLAVE! ‘which the slave proceeded to do.
Master kept the clamp chain under tension and locked his hand in position, the slave adding more stimulation to the pressure as his body moved to swing his weights, his erection bobbing with his motion.
After a while, Master released the pressure abruptly. Returning to the table, he picked up a sterile medical nasal cannula and looped the device over the slave’s hooded head.
The slave resisted the Masters action to insert the short tubes into his hoods noseholes but a firm grip to the back of the slaves head quickly ended his rebellion.
Drawing the device tight to the back of the head via its plastic retainer, Master returned to the table a retrieved a modified popper bottle. The cap had an insert point for the cannula and an additional tube to allow the air through the bottle, feeding the slave the heady vapours within.
With the bottle in place, Master returned to in front of the slave and watched as the poppers took effect, the relaxing of his body, the reddening of the eye whites, the moans of intoxication, the increased flow of spittle from under the ballgag and the wilting of the hard erection.
‘YOU CAN DO NOTHING BUT BREATHE SLAVE’ to which he nodded as he felt his skin flush and heart rate increase, stripping him of inhibition and resistance.
Appropriately dosed, Master removed the bottle and lifted a black leather paddle from the table and stood again in front of his captive, his rheumy eyes focused on the paddle which the Master brought into the slave’s view. The paddle had circles cut from it to decrease the air resistance as it was swung but thick enough for a strike to leave its mark. Master ran the flat edge over the slave’s rubber clad body and then moved behind him. Master stared down at the slaves rubber clad buttocks and rested the paddle against the rubber, causing the slave to tense his muscles in anticipation of the hit. He drew away and waited.
As the slave relaxed, he struck, causing the slave to let out a higher pitched moan, stifled by the ballgag and tried to turn away. The winch lock put pay to that action. The slave tried to grip the floor with his wadered feet, trying to gain sufficient purchase to move forward in a vain attempt to avoid the hits but to no avail. Master alternated hits to each buttock, some deceptively light but most with relished vigour on the Masters part.
Eventually Master stopped and replaced the paddle on the table and eyed the other punishment implements at his disposal. Smiling, he chose a black leather riding crop.
Master walked back round to the front of the slave, swinging the crop forcibly through the air as he approached.
‘A SUFFICIENT WARM UP, DON’T YOU AGREE? He said coldly, noting the red rimmed and tear bleary eyes of his captive. More spittle ran down his hooded chin and bubbles punctuated the liquid around the ballgag. Master looked down at the flaccid penis of the slave and caressed it using the tip of the riding crop, causing him to tense and flinch at the leathers touch.
‘A PATHETIC EXAMPLE’ he said and swiftly stepped back and withdrew, raising the crop up high and bringing it down with force towards the penis…..and pulled up short, scant centimetres away from it. The swift action and intent caused the slave to panic and recoil as best they could, not realising the feint.
Smiling, the Master returned to behind the captive and reattached the popper bottle.
Allowing a few moments to pass, he spoke ‘YOU WILL COUNT EACH STRIKE’ and the slave nodded awkwardly, mumbling a gagged agreement.
Master struck, alternating each buttock, increasing in force with each strike as the slave counted, his moans of pain stifled.
With the final blow struck, Master returned the crop to the table and pulled on a fresh pair of examination gloves and proceeded to remove the spiked parachute from the moaning captive. Once done, Master replaced the cb chastity device and discarded the gloves.
‘I AM NOT FINISHED WITH YOU YET’ he said coldly. ‘IN FACT WE HAVE ONLY JUST BEGUN AND IT’S NOT LIKE YOU ARE GOING ANYWHERE, IS IT RUBBERSLAVE?’ he said as he ran his eyes over the suspension prison.
With that, Master threw the chastity keys onto the medical table and activated the winch, this time lifting the slave clear of the floor, his wadered feet devoid of any purchase. Grabbing the slave’s rubber hooded face; Master spoke directly at him.
‘YOU WILL HANG HERE LIKE A PIECE OF MEAT TIL I RETURN’ and with that, he disengaged the winch lock, allowing the slave to slowly rotate. Master turned and walked away towards the door, taking great pleasure in hearing the rubberslaves gagged moans of protest and the clicking of the metal on metal as he struggled.
Punching in the door’s access code, he returned the room to darkness and left the room and the rubberslave to his suspended solitude.

Taken

Part 1

Nervously, Paul exited the taxi, aware of the surreptitious glances the taxi driver had given him throughout the journey. His gleaming black rubber catsuit hugged his body with hardly a trace of a crease and his crotch high waders gleamed with a similar shine. A pair of rubber gauntlets and tight hood completed the ensemble but these were stored away in his sport bag, ready for donning once in the club.
Paul quickly entered the club and fumbled for his money for entrance. His pulse raced as he noticed the attire that the guy was wearing as he handed his money over. Both were dressed the same and the guy fixed him with a commanding stare, his eyes running over Paul's rubber clad body, a smile on his face.
'First time here?' said the guy as he looked at Paul's membership card. 'Yes, bought the membership but never had the nerve to come in' Paul stammered.
'Well then, enjoy yourself' said the guy as he handed the card back. 'And see you in there'.
With that, Paul entered the club and after removing the gloves and hood from the bag and handed the bag into the cloakroom, he pulled on his gloves and hood and proceeded to the bar.
The club was busy, filled with guys in various forms of rubber and leather gear.
Slaves tended to their Masters, fulfilling the roles of foot rests, ashtray holders, beer holders and boot cleaners. Others were bound over bondage furniture, receiving either punishments or rewards, at the whim of their Masters.
Paul made his way to the bar, feeling the eyes on him as he ordered a drink. Standing at the bar, he surveyed the scenes going on around him, the club music muffled by his tight hood and he savoured the atmosphere.
He ordered another drink, feeling his nerves relax as the alcohol took effect.
He was about to begin exploring the rest of the club when a strong hand rested on his shoulder. Paul spun to face whoever it was and relaxed, for it was the guy from the pay desk. The guy moved away and reached to his belt and unclipped a leather collar and lead. He opened it, inviting Paul to step forward.
A rush of arousal flowed through Paul as he found himself stepping forward and felt the embrace of the collar around his rubber hooded neck, feeling it being fastened securely.
With the same smile, the guy pulled assertively on the lead and Paul followed. He lead Paul through the club until they reached a door at the back.
Once into the room, the guy closed the door and Paul noticed the club noise was a distant sound.
'Nice and quiet' said the guy, 'nothing to distract our fun' a more friendly smile on his face now. With that he approached Paul and walked behind him.
Paul jumped slightly as he felt the guys rubber gauntleted hands exploring his body as they glided over his rubberised body. He tried to reciprocate but the guy spoke 'Ah ah, no touching' and continued his intimate exploration.
He stopped and turned Paul to face him. 'Now Rubber slave, its your turn, kneel'
'Yes Sir' as he knelt, his eyes fixed on the gleaming high waders, his breathing
heavy as the guy towered over him, his tight rubber suit accentuating his physique.
Placing his right wadered foot forward, he spoke again. 'LICK'. Paul obeyed and a rush of pleasure coursed through him as his tongue glided over the gleaming wader rubber, feeling his submissive nature rise to the fore.
The guy pulled back his foot and moved his other wadered foot forward onto which Paul continued his ministrations. Flushed with pleasure and obedience, Paul never noticed the slight chemical taste on this wader and unconsciousness quickly enveloped him.....

Part 2

Slowly, Paul regained consciousness. A pounding headache assaulted his head and he lifted his gloved hands to his head, or at least tried to and Paul then realised he was bound. He called out but a tightly fitting ball gag put pay to that. Clarity returned quickly and Paul found himself bound to a whipping bench. He struggled but to no avail.
Glancing around, he noticed he was surrounded by low mirrors, each positioned so he could see all around himself. Each limb was held securely by thick leather straps with three such straps strapping his torso to the bench.
Panic began to rise as he fought to get free, the straps unyielding as they held him tight. A familiar face walked into view and he felt the panic dissipate as the guy looked at him. This brief moment of trepidation quickly returned to panic when he saw that no friendly smile graced his face.
A door clicked open and another person entered the room and quickly approached the guy. Paul stared wide eyed as he saw the other figure.
Dressed head to toe in tight black rubber, wadered, gloved, hooded with a heavy rubber apron draped down his body.
Paul struggled for all his worth as he heard their conversation.
The new figure spoke first.
'Did he come alone?'
'Yes, no one here to miss him here' The guy shot a look at Paul, who was vainly trying to get free, his ball gagged moans pitiful. 'Wherever that is!'
'Any ID on him?' and Paul watched as the guy began going through his sport bag and wallet, pocketing the cash within and removing the cash cards for destruction. 'Nothing apart from his membership card, he wont be needing that any more'.
'Good! Get rid of that lot and leave me. Alert the guards for when I want him moved' said the newcomer.
'Yes Master' and turned quickly, walking to the door.
The Master then turned his attention to his new acquisition.
'Now then, welcome to your new life as a Rubberslave' said the rubberised figure, as he ran his eyes over the struggling bound rubber clad form. 'First I am going to fuck you then I will have my fun with you. You will service the needs of my fellow Masters and your life is about servitude to myself and them. You will make a good addition to my slave stock'.
The guy looked back at his Master, watching him stroking his bare cock to erection as he approached the frantically struggling victim.
With that, he left, closing the door with a muffled click. After the short drive back to the club, he would continue his scouting. After all, the night was still young.....

A Reboot

When I started this blog back in 2013, I had the best of intentions of updating it regularly but it never came about. But now, I intend to do so, so to get the ball rolling, I want to post some of my stories I have written over the last few years.

I hope you enjoy reading them as I did writing them. Please feel free to comment and suggest ideas for future stories or session ideas to inflict upon my slaverubbergimp.

A quick reminder to my xtube video page: http://www.xtube.com/my_videos.php

If a picture is worth a thousand words....

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Greetings and Salutations!

Well, its about time I created a blog so I will update this with the pictures and videos of the training of my long suffering SlaveRubbergimp (lol) as well as thoughts and opinions on the aspects of Fetishism/BDSM etc.

As always, I can be contacted through Fetlife or Xtube (Rubberdom2000)