The duke had died quietly in his sleep. The next morning officials came and arranged for his funeral. He was buried two days later on the grounds, among his ancestors. Very few people attended and the press hardly took notice. Two days later another official came and asked the servants to assemble in the dining hall. The pompous little man sat at the head of the table, cleared his throat and read the will. ...
I have been a medical technician for 15 years, now working for Dr. Lora Latimer, who specializes in behavior modification. She has an M.D. and a Ph.D. in psychology and her practice is part of the Western General Hospital; and I am one of seven medical assistants. Dr. Latimer’s work is very advanced; she does primarily research on patients who behave far from the norm and are socially handicapped because of it. She has pioneered a number of procedures involving drugs, hypnosis, subliminal audio and video, electrical stimulation and sensory deprivation. ...
I rang the doorbell and a camera immediately started swiveling above my head. “Yes?” a voice said in the speaker. “I am here about writing the story,” I said. “I’ll be right down,” the voice replied. I opened the door and stepped into the lobby. An ordinary apartment building, I thought, two apartments per floor, 5 stories high. The elevator descended, the door opened and out stepped a tall woman. “I’m the hostess and owner. Welcome to Internet Rubber,” she said and we shook hands. ...
I was still asleep when the doorman rang. “The new couple is here,” he said. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. “Tell them to park their car in a visitor slot in the garage and I will meet them in the lobby in 10 minutes.” I took a quick shower, dressed and took the elevator down to the lobby. A man and a woman were waiting next to four suitcases. “I’m Jasper Smith,” the man said as he shook my hand, “We apologize for being early,” He was short, skinny and looked a bit frightened. ...
Friday, 7 p.m. I was standing in the small bedroom upstairs, encased in three rubbersuits. I would be unable to get out of them for 12 hours. The preparations had started an hour earlier, as soon as I got home. First I administered an enema and emptied my bladder with a catheter. Then I pulled on the first rubbersuit, a thin red one with an extension that covered my penis and balls tightly. Over my head I pulled a thin red latex hood and my arms got covered with long, thin, red latex gloves. As I checked myself in the mirror I inserted a gag into my mouth and inflated it to a comfortable pressure. ...
The call from Felix was a shock. His voice was weak and hoarse. “I need to see you urgently,” he said, “I’m in the hospital, I got cancer. I need your help to take care of something.” I had known him for a few years, but had talked with him only three times at meetings of the Rubber Club. I found him very secretive; he never talked about his personal life. So I was surprised that he would ask me for help. But when someone tells you that he is dying, there is really no choice. I told him that I would get a flight the next day and got the address of the hospital from him. ...
The second Thursday every month I take the train to the city and spend a few hours at the Rubber Club. I like chatting with friends who feel the same way about dressing in rubber. They are mostly men, a few couples and once in a while a single female; the dress-code is strictly rubber. It was on such a Thursday that I first saw her. She had a spectacular body, which was encased in a bright-red rubber suit. Her legs were in thigh-high rubber boots, her arms in shoulder-length latex gloves and her head was covered by a tight red latex hood. ...
At first I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. The ad said “Widow looking for husband. Must be devoted rubberist, close to 5'10” in height and 170lbs in weight". I was puzzled by the specification of height and weight, but the “devoted rubberist” part intrigued me, so I called the number in the ad. I reached an answering machine that told me to leave my number. The next day I got a call from a woman who curtly said, “Meet me at Millar Park in an hour, south side and bring an umbrella”. It wasn’t raining. ...
Madam is very rich and lives in a large mansion. She has three female servants: a cook, a maid and an assistant. All three are dedicated rubberists. Madam is a rubber dominatrix and I’m one of her rubber slaves. I live in the mansion. There are other slaves, many of them, but they come for visits, staying a day or two each time. Three of the four stories of the mansion are dedicated to rubber. The basement is a large and well-equipped dungeon. The street floor has a parlor, the kitchen, the dining room and a laundry. The floor above it has Madam’s bedroom and bathroom, her study, and a huge rubber wardroom with well over a thousand rubber garments. On the top floor are the rooms for the servants, myself and the guests. ...
I am a true rubber devotee. I own a house which is both my home and my office. Upstairs I have a hidden room which contains my rubber garments, about 150 of them. And I have plenty of time to enjoy it; working as a consultant on long-term projects, I can decide when I want to work and when I want to relax in rubber. My favorite way to relax is to dress in a few rubber garments after lunch and work on my computer for a few hours. ...
Five years ago my wife divorced me because of my love for rubber. She never understood rubber and could never get herself to wear rubber for me. To tell you the truth, the divorce was a relief. I’m an inventor and, fortunately, some of my inventions have made me a lot of money. Even after the divorce settlement I had plenty left over to buy a large house and equip it the way I had dreamed about for years. It took me three years to complete the installation and to acquire a truly large collection of rubber garments. Now that everything is in place and working, let me tell you about my rubber place. ...
Max had put on his favorite rubber outfit: several latex underpants, two pairs of long latex gloves, a thin latex hood and a heavier on top of it, two rubber suits, rubber boots, two rubber overalls, a gasmask, a pair of heavy rubber jeans and a heavy rubber raincoat. He checked the locks in the harness of the gasmask and in the belt of the raincoat; they were secure. He would stay in rubber for several hours, the locks made sure of that. ...
Wet Country For two weeks each spring I rent a cottage. It is not an area where you would ordinarily vacation, for there is hardly ever any sunshine. In fact it rains almost constantly there during that time of the year. Which is just fine with me. The cottage is quite remote, in a wooded area. I pack every rubber garment I own into my van and drive there on Monday morning. I get to the cottage about noon and spend a good hour moving in. Every closet in the place gets filled with rubber and what is left over I hang on the walls or drape over furniture. By about 2 p.m. I am ready. I dress in two rubber suits, rubber boots, rubber gloves and a latex hood with an inflatable gag and a gas mask. Then I put on a heavy rubber trench coat with a wide belt. Two padlocks make it impossible for me to get out of the rubber, one for the belt and one for the neck-strap of the coat. Then I go for a long walk in the rain. ...
The rain started shortly after 8 p.m. George turned on his computer and searched for the weather forecast. Two days of rain, it said. Ideal. He went to his rubber wardrobe and started dressing. First a pair of latex briefs with a detailed attachment for the penis and balls and a thin, long rubber tube at the tip. Next a thin rubber suit with an opening in the crotch. He pulled the tube and his private parts through the opening. Then he pulled a latex mask over his head; the mask had a soft gag, with a breathing tube through the center. ...
In the middle of the room stood a sinister black figure. Slave 9 was pushed toward it and told to examine it carefully. It was made from metal, painted black. It had the detailed shape of a man, only the penis was missing; instead there was a round opening, lined with black rubber. At several places including the mouth there were air-hose connections and at the anus a rubber tube protruded. ...
Rubber Fantasies 8: The Pill The woman at the door wore horn-rimmed glasses and carried a note-pad in one hand. “We would like to conduct a study with your organization,” she said. “What organization?” I asked. “Why, your rubber club of course,” she replied. I asked her in and closed the door behind her. “What is this all about,” I asked “Can we sit down somewhere, I have quite a bit to tell you.” I led her into the reception room and pointed out a chair. “I am a researcher in pharmacology and I developed a new pill which increases the desire and frequency of orgasm in men. We are in the clinical trial stage and need test subjects. So far it looks like the pill will allow orgasms to occur every 15 minutes, rather than once an hour or so. And you are ready to proceed to the next orgasm immediately after the last one. The penis stays erect from orgasm and the subject has an irresistible need for an orgasm” ...
I was sitting in my recliner, with the back almost all the way down. I had put on two rubber suits, a pair of soft rubber boots, a comfortable latex hood, a gasmask and two pairs of latex gloves. My penis and balls were sheathed in rubber and protruding through the rubber suits. I was totally relaxed and unintentionally fell asleep. Suddenly a rubber-clad woman appeared before me. Her lithe body was encased in a bright red rubber suit. “Who are you” I asked. ...
I saw her advertisement in one of the rubber magazines: “Spend a night in rubber, stimulated by a genuine rubber woman”. Of course I was intrigued, I am a genuine rubber freak. So I called and made an appointment. It was a large but ordinary house. After I rang the doorbell the “genuine rubber woman” opened the door, dressed in a red latex rubbersuit. “You be John, I assume”, she said. I nodded. “I am Mistress Ruby.” I shook her latex-gloved hand. She led me down to the basement. I walked behind her, carrying my suitcase and admiring her voluptuous rubber-clad figure. She turned on the light and I saw an assortment of bondage contraptions: a rubber-covered bed with several wide rubber straps, a bondage chair, a hammock made from rubber, a rubber bag hanging ominously on the wall between several rubbersuits, a rubber straightjacket, several other rubber bondage bags, a medical examination chair with stirrups, a very large bathtub in a glass enclosure, a bondage pole and a large TV set. ...
Felix went into his study and locked the door. It wasn’t really necessary, his wife was out of town, the front and back doors were locked and there was no-one else in the house. But it never hurt to be extra cautious. He stepped behind his desk and pushed a button hidden in one of the many book-shelves. A section swiveled open and revealed a passage-way with stairs descending below ground level. He entered, turned on the light, closed the bookshelf behind him and walked down the stairs. ...
John Rutex was restless. He always became restless when business slowed down. “Rutex and Associates, Investigations” it said in the San Francisco phone directory, but there were no associates and few investigations. Two years ago he had been lucky, cracking a big fraud case which made him wealthy; but since then there had been only four small jobs. In his present mood he did not realize how much he had enjoyed the free time, for John Rutex was a rubber fetishist. With the windfall he had bought himself a large house and had added significantly to his collection of rubber garments. Now he had the time to lounge around in rubber, watch his rubber videotapes, organize his albums of thousands of photographs of women in rubber and correspond with dozens of rubber devotees around the world. But he was nevertheless restless; he needed some work. Little did he know that he was about to get involved in the biggest and most interesting case of his career, and that his fetish and profession would merge. ...
I paid the cab driver, lifted the bag and took Fran’s arm. We both had been looking forward to this weekend, although we didn’t quite know what was in store. We walked up the stair and rang the doorbell. Underneath the button was a sign which read: “Members and Guests Only.” The heavy door opened immediately. We walked in and the door closed automatically behind us. We were standing in a small room, alone. A sign pointed to the right: ”Dressing Room. Rubber Attire Only Beyond this Point." We dutifully went into the dressing room, opened the suitcase and put on the rubber garments. We had received instructions in the mail: bring tight-fitting rubber suits with crotch slits. My penis and balls were to be sheathed in rubber and pulled through the slit. Latex gloves and hoods were to be worn at all times. ...
I am a devoted rubber fan, have been as far back as I can remember. I never got married, being painfully shy and thinking that it was impossible to find a woman who would share my love for rubber. At the time this story begins I lived alone, renting a small, detached house. I had not seen the landlord in ten years, which suited me fine. Not that I didn’t like women, in fact I fantasized constantly about having sex with a woman in rubber. In my daydreams (and quite often at night too) my rubber women varied over a wide range: a willing slave, a skillful prostitute, an insatiable lover, a cruel mistress. ...
By training I am contractor. I renovate people’s houses. When this episode of my life began I had a small business of my own, albeit not a very successful one. I am quite good at my job but, you see, I have this problem: I am a rubber fetishist. I love to be dressed in rubber, even tied up in it. I have had this feeling ever since I can remember. The only way I can enjoy sex is being dressed head to toe in rubber. I always wanted to get married, but the woman of my dreams would have to love rubber too. I never found that woman. ...
I had been with the same company in Cleveland for 37 years when they offered me early retirement. I was only 56 years old, but I took it. After all, being single and having led a simple life, I had saved up more than a million dollars. More importantly, I wanted to have more time for myself. You see, I am a rubber fetishist. While I was working, the only thing I lived for was the evening and weekends, when I could be in my house and don my rubber garments. Over the years I had acquired more than 300 of them. ...
John was surprised by the call. Her name was Kate Simpson, she said, of Allway Electronics. He had heard of her: her husband, who had founded Allway and was a wizard in electronics, had died a few years before and Kate Simpson had taken over the management of the company. She had no technical background and the speculation was that, without a technologist at the helm, the company would go under soon. But she was a tough boss and the company survived. “We need your help,” she said. “I want to hire you as a consultant, reporting directly to me.” John set up a meeting. ...
By training I am an electrical engineer, but my passion is and has always been . I have had a series of jobs, which I did well enough, but I dreamed of rubber all the time. I had made plenty of money, more than enough to buy a house and acquire a nice collection of rubber garments. But I was not happy; I wanted to spend all my time around rubber. ...