Stage One: The Doctor's Orders
She knew she had done wrong, but most importantly she knew she'd be in trouble. Those boots had clearly been left out for cleaning, but she was so enthralled with her new present, a pair of beautifully high ballet boots, she just had to 'wear them in'. And so she sat upon the corner of the bed, decadent in her sleek shiny ballet boots, her legs crossed, encased in latex stockings and an impossibly tight hobble skirt, clinging to her ample bosom a zip halter neck top was fastened, and long latex gloves adorned her arms emphasising her sleek fingers, adding to this she wore a black latex gasmask which disguised her features. And yet the most impressive part to this, besides the black sheen achieved through tender care and attention as demanded by her master, she wore a latex catsuit and mask beneath her clothing, producing a second, perfectly fitting, skin, in every way smooth, shiny... perfect.
Encapsulated within her rubber cocoon she felt pangs of anxiety, 'He'll be here soon...' she thought to herself. Already aroused by the sensations provided from the rubber the anxiety seemed only to add to this...what would her devious master's punishment entail? Will he be merciful? Or will he want to see blood?
As time past she felt she had been sat there for hours, all the time dwelling on what her master might have in store, so much so she had lost track of time... was he late? She concentrated hard now, trying to hear if he had come in, the gas mask suddenly felt a lot more restrictive, as it limited her peripheral vision, but once again this only added to the sense of beautiful constriction and sensual depravity when suddenly a hand reached around, covering the masks mouthpiece, startled she had not taken in a breath of air. She struggled against the iron grip that now held her in such an awful predicament, the latex only heating up with such movement. Her head was held back, she could see the ceiling but nothing more, even then lights seem to play about her eyes, she stopped struggling, a feeling of sullen resignation creeping across her as she went faint...Yet a darker side of her new this was a game, a game of trust and personal will, she would not disappoint her master. With her resolved strengthened she fought against the inevitable, all the time growing more and more moist between her thighs...
The lights became more invasive, he'd never held her, pushed her, for quite such a long time, another flutter of anxiety quelled by her trust, the adrenaline heightening her senses, feeding her arousal...then the hand slid from the mask, she breathed the air deeply, smiling, as the hand slid soothingly across her neck leaving her body at the tip of her collar bone.
He stepped around in front of her, letting her take in the vision: Large black boots, shiny black PVC trousers, a clean white latex doctors tunic, the buttons climbing from the left side and up and across, fastening all the way up, the buttons perfectly polished, hands adorned with short black latex gloves, his dark hair held up into a ponytail, the sides shaved into a short undercut, his face predominantly obscured by a blue surgical mask, but most striking of all was the pair of piercing brown eyes that stared hypnotically out above the mask, she felt herself grow weak at the knees, another surge of ecstasy...
He bent down, one latex glove supporting her chin as he stared into her eyes, listening to her rapid breathing, 'I need not tell you what you've done, or should I say haven't done, do I?' Unable to reply she stared deeper into those eyes, 'I think I may need my...tools, for this evenings administration.' The emphasis on certain words, released with almost a sigh of breath that made her shiver, his 'tools' were his favourite disciplinary items, and some others he had recently added – this meant he was certainly not in a merciful mood.
