The Rubber Room Cassandra

Hello!

It's been a while since I published anything. This is one of a handful of things that have been in the works, and I think it's something that people who like my writing will probably enjoy. In this one, I experimented with telling things from the dominant's perspective, which is a bit of a departure for me.

Some readers may wish to be warned that the submissive in this story is a woman with a penis. This fact is not exceptionally significant to the story.

Aside from that, the story is probably most well-suited to readers with some interest in latex, encasement, transformation, and so on. It is, after all, a story about a woman being transformed into a rubber sex doll. In addition, anal and oral sex also play very significant roles and get quite a lot of screen time, including anal stretching and deepthroating. Fans of the large silicone phallus, rejoice.

Anyway, enjoy!

orby

--

Helen admired herself as she stood nude in front of the mirror -- the faint whiteness of her powdered face, the stark red of her lipstick, the touch of blush on her prominent cheekbones. The darkness of eyeshadow elaborated the brown of her irises, her strong black eyebrows, dense waves of black hair.

Like a villainess

, she smirked, pulling her hair into a tight bun at the crown of her head.

Now I just have to pick out what to wear.

Of course, this was no ordinary occasion. This would be her guest's first visit to the Rubber Room, and that tended to leave quite a strong impression -- one that ought to be matched with a suitable appearance. And besides that, the guest wasn't just anyone: it was Allison's partner.

That's right

, thought Helen, realizing she had gotten ahead of herself. In the end, it was the woman who mattered, wasn't it?

She thought about what Allison had said as she perused the closet's collection of latex garments with her thumb --

Cass

, she remembered,

short for Cassandra

. Allison had met her about a year ago at a convention, but things had already progressed between them to the point that Cass had taken Allison to be her owner -- in a psychosexual sense -- with full control of her body, among other things. Allison's recent habit of whoring Cass out to her friends reflected that.

Come to think of it, that was the pretense for tonight's affair as well, wasn't it?

thought Helen with a grin.

Hot.

Even so, at the end of the day she knew very little about Cassandra beyond what Allison had told her -- that she was aloof, very nerdy, submissive -- none of which came as a surprise for someone partnered to Allison. She had seen the two of them together at events a handful of times, too, but Cass had also somehow eluded introduction.

And yet, Allison still asked me to do this favor

, she sighed.

Yet, Helen's mind wandered as she thumbed through the closet -- corsets, dresses, catsuits; stockings, gloves, and hoods in white, pink, yellow, and black -- until it settled like a bird bouncing on a branch, recalling a story that Allison told the last time they'd met.

As it went, a few months ago Cass had forgotten that she had the day off and, in her confusion, had wasted time going into work; she had arrived over an hour late to a date with Allison as a result. In a controlled outburst, the moderately-irate woman had apparently taken Cass over the knee later that evening for a harsh spanking during which Cass had nearly climaxed just from being beaten, falling so deep into submission that she had come to see Allison practically as a goddess.

To make matters worse, though, Cass had evidently enjoyed herself so much that, blushing like a mess, she had asked Allison to do the same to her once again the next day, just to be thorough. And of course, Allison had been more than happy to oblige and repeated the ordeal, feigned anger and all.

"Her ass looked like a pair of ripe tomatoes," Allison had said. She did have a certain way with words.

Helen's thumb stroked the shoulder of a corseted black latex dress as the anecdote turned over in her head.

She pulled the dress from the rack with a chuckle.

No wonder she managed to forget her own birthday.

--

Helen made the last touches to her appearance as the fateful hour approached --

2:00

, she reminded herself. She glanced at the clock before turning her eyes back to the body-length mirror in the corner of the Rubber Room.

This will do

, she thought, turning in place, admiring the fit of the black latex stockings on her legs, her arms similarly clad in black latex opera gloves. Then there was the dress -- its corset emphasizing her waist, her breasts, its shining skirt concealing a tight pair of transparent rubber panties.

And of course, there was the rubber's subtly sweet smell, the sound of its crinkling, the familiar feeling of the material hugging her, almost a part of her more than a garment.

I don't think this will ever get old

, Helen thought. She was a queen and this was her domain.

With the outfit taken care of, her mind turned to the rest of her preparations: the room's many rubber surfaces -- the couch, ottoman, tables, and other furniture, most of the floor -- had been cleaned earlier in the day, and she had already stowed a certain selection of items in the chest at the room's edge, with things to be worn placed in the wardrobe on the opposite side.

Lucky girl

, she thought. Still, the responsibility of doing right by Allison and Cassandra had her feeling nervous, and she could feel the anxiety bubbling up in her chest, choking up in her throat. This, too, was not unfamiliar; with luck it would subside once things got underway.

Helen's eyes darted to the clock again. 1:55. Allison had reassured her that Cass had been given directions to the back entrance specifically -- directly to the Rubber Room. She remained fixated on the door as she waited, pacing back and forth on the wooden floor, ready to don her domineering persona when she needed it.

At 1:57, there was finally a rap at the door -- three light, timid taps. Helen took a deep breath in and let out a sigh.

It's time, then

, she thought. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her stockings squeaking on the wooden floor, the knowledge that the time for performance was nigh.

She turned the knob and listened to the door creak its welcome. There, there stood a woman -- slender, hunched forward, toes pointed inward, eyes cast down to her toes. Short, wavy brown hair fell just above her neckline, framing a soft, pale face. This was Cassandra.

"Hello..." she said, clearing her throat. "Are you, uh..."

"Helen," she responded flatly, holding back a smile. "Cassandra?"

"Yes, uh... ma'am," Cassandra said. Still her gaze was fixed on the floor.

Maybe she just likes my shoes

, thought Helen, joking with herself. She waited for the woman's eyes to drift upward before continuing.

"Please, come in," she said at last, allowing herself a faint smile as she threw open the door. This was always the best part.

Helen's eyes lit up as she took in the scene before her -- the Rubber Room -- for the first time. The entire room was covered in rubber; even the walls, like some kind of perverse asylum, bore alternating strips of black and white, somehow thickened and plush, and near the two of them, on a section of dark wooden flooring, there was something like a waiting area, with a wine-red sofa, coffee table, armchair, and ottoman, each fully clad in rubber from the legs to the cushions.

Behind these sat the real play area, where the floor too was coated in black rubber blocked in plush squares -- and more furniture, too: cabinets, a wardrobe, a spanking bench, a St. Andrew's cross, a waist-high cage.

Cass stood stunned in the entrance, her mouth agape, processing the sight as the door closed behind her.

Now Helen got a better look at her: she was wearing a navy-blue wool dress with a pleated skirt that came down to her knees, accompanied by plain black leggings and short black boots, a small black purse at her hip. She was about the same height as Helen, but her posture stooped her lower, revealed a kind of anxiety -- the way her thumb cradled the strap of her purse, her other hand pulling the fabric of her skirt.

Cute

, thought Helen.

Don't worry; we'll open you up, I'm sure.

"Shoes off, please -- if you don't mind," she said, as if to wake Cassandra up.

The woman nodded and obliged. Helen pointed her toward the sofa. "Have a seat, will you?"

Another nod.

Helen simply gazed for a moment as Cassandra sank into the couch cushion, watching as her face grew red, watching her breathe deeply in and out as she felt the latex for the first time, took in its scent.

That's right, you're in the thick of it, aren't you?

thought Helen. She knew what Cass was feeling -- she had seen it before. Cass was the only foreign thing in this room: the only thing not covered in rubber in this latex-fetishists' paradise. And surely the latex-clad dominatrix in front of her had something to say about that.

Naturally, easing her in would be important. "Would you like some tea, Cass?"

The woman seemed taken aback by this; she shook her head and blinked before responding. "Um, yes... actually. That would be nice." A weak smile.

Helen smirked to herself as she retrieved the wooden serving tray and placed it on the coffee table, presenting a teapot and a pair of teacups. She bent over and poured for the both of them before taking a seat in the armchair. She waited as Cassandra sipped; she seemed genuinely calmed.

Earl grey

, thought Helen.

Hits the spot, doesn't it?

She took a few good sips of her own.

After a minute of silence, Cass had grown warmer. Her head now turned toward Helen in a meek smile, seemingly ready to continue.

"So, Cassandra, what brings you here?" Helen asked, turning her head as she leaned forward. "Remind me."

"I'm uh... I'm here to... to serve you," she stammered, "Allison said."

Helen smirked. "To service me," she corrected.

Cass shrank in her seat, her eyes turning to the floor again. "Y-yes. I'm sorry, ma'am."

"That's all right," said Helen.

Poor girl.

The two sat for a moment in silence sipping their tea before Cass suddenly seemed to remember something and rummaged through her purse with some urgency. "I'm sorry," she said, "I almost forgot."

Cassandra exhaled as she retrieved the item and came to her feet, stepping in front of Helen and presenting it, cradled between her hands: a small wooden box shut with a padlock.

Oh, good girl

, thought Helen, taking it with her fingertips.

"My owner said I should give this to you," she said. Her tone was serious, her movements quite deliberate as she moved back to the couch. "She said you would know what to do with it."

"Thank you, Cassandra," Helen said, now herself rising to retrieve a key from the cabinet behind them; Allison had left it without much in the way of instructions, but Helen had a pretty good guess at what was in the box, and with the key in hand, she returned to her seat and took her time opening the thing, savoring Cassandra's attentive gaze in the periphery.

Inside was exactly what she had expected -- a small silver key, accompanied by a carefully folded note. She lifted the key and displayed it. "You know what this is, don't you, Cassandra?"

She turned her head towards the floor and nodded.

"Tell me, why don't you? And look at me, please."

Cass let out a deep breath and brought her head up, her gaze now flitting up and down between Helen's eyes and the ceiling. "It's the key to my... to my, um..."

"To your cock cage," Helen finished. The woman nodded, blushing as the two locked gazes. Of course, this was a big deal: in effect, Allison had transferred her care of Cassandra, however temporarily, to Helen -- a woman that Cassandra had never even properly met. Helen doubted this happened often with Cassandra and Allison, if at had even happened at all; certainly, not everyone that Allison allowed to fuck Cassandra was afforded the privilege.

It was something Helen took quite seriously; Allison's intention was not just to reinforce Helen's position of dominance -- rather, she wished communicate as succinctly as possible that Helen was someone Cassandra could trust, no matter where the two of them went together -- a thought that sent a pleasant shiver down Helen's spine.

We're going to have fun, aren't we, Cass?

she thought.

Then there was the note, which Helen unfolded while Cassandra pecked away at her tea. "Actually, ma'am, may I use the restroom?" she asked.

Helen smiled. "Yes, it's just down there to the left," she replied, pointing behind them.

That's only natural.

She sat back and read.

Helen,

I have left Cass in your care for the afternoon. Please enjoy her. You probably know this, but she almost never gets unlocked. You're in charge, so you're free to let her cum if you want to. I wouldn't.

I also told her to plug herself for the occasion, but I didn't say anything more than that. Personally, I'd be offended by anything less than seven inches around. She's got a well-trained butt, you know.

Best,

Allison

Helen snickered. Well, that's Allison. At least she had provided a natural starting point. With Cass in the bathroom, she retrieved a thin silver necklace and strung the key around her neck. It dangled in her cleavage.

That should do

, she thought.

Cassandra shortly returned and seated herself again with a sigh.

"Ready to get started soon?" asked Helen.

The woman nodded.

"Good," she said, now seating herself next to Cass on the sofa.

Let's see how you respond to a little possessiveness, then.

Helen brought up a gloved hand to Cass's face and stroked her cheek with a thumb, watching as Cass let out a breath and gripped the latex couch cushion with her hands.

"Look at me," she whispered. Cass turned her head, her mouth agape, exhaling anticipation. Helen's hand moved to the back of her head, a thumb stroking an ear; she watched as Cass's gaze momentarily faltered, peeking down at the key between her breasts.

Or maybe just at my tits

, she thought.

The two explored each other's faces with their eyes. Helen lifted Cassandra's hair from her other ear. Before Cassandra knew it, one hand had gathered her hair at the base of her skull, pulling her head back; the other gripped her neck.

"How do you feel?" Helen whispered.

"Good... ma'am," she breathed, her face red with excitement.

Good

, thought Helen.

Helen smiled. "You're going to be my toy this afternoon. Isn't that right?"

The woman shuddered, her stomach squirming as her head remained fixed in place. "Y-yes... ma'am."

"Good." Their faces were close. Helen admired her lips, their moist lipstick, her front teeth peeking out just underneath. It was hard to keep herself from kissing her. "I'm not going to call you 'Cass' any more, then. Okay, toy?"

The woman crumpled, the rubber underneath her squeaking as she gripped the cushion. "Yes, ma'am," she whimpered.

"Good," Helen continued, now turning the Cass's head and bringing her lips to the woman's ear. "I look forward to getting to know my new toy, then," she whispered. "Speaking of which, I've been assured that you've plugged yourself. Is that correct?"

Cassandra nodded weakly.

"I want my toy to show me. Okay?"

The woman nodded again, and Helen released her grip.

Cassandra rose and took a step forward, lifted her skirt, and bent over. What Helen saw nearly made her lose her composure: beneath, there was her round ass, exposed by a large hole in her leggings -- and in the center, a wide glass buttplug, glimmering in the light of the room.

Holy shit

, thought Helen, feeling the pace of her heart quicken. "And how did you get here, toy?" she asked.

Shit. Did she really...?

"I took the train, ma'am," she said, still bent over, still displaying herself.

"And did your owner have you wear this?" Helen continued. She could feel her face growing warm.

"No, ma'am," Cassandra replied.

Shit

, thought Helen. She could hardly believe it. Cassandra had gone out in public with nothing but the skirt of her dress concealing her plugged ass -- and not just with any plug, but one that would actually show off her asshole at that. That was unthinkable -- and it was equally unthinkable that she had decided to do all of that herself, without Allison's instruction.

God, what a woman

, thought Helen,

I can see why Allison likes you.

She sat up, fighting to steady her breathing, to remain collected.

God, am I going to fuck the brains out of you.

--

Cassandra continued to present herself until Helen rose, stepping behind her to plant a gloved hand on the woman's buttocks.

Cass sighed as Helen squeezed.

"I'd like to replace this with something of my own. All right, toy?" she asked.

"Yes, m-ma'am," came Cassandra, quivering.

"Now, stay put for a moment."

"Yes, ma'am."

Helen gave her butt a slap, eliciting a cute squeak. She made her way to the cabinets and withdrew a large box of toys, setting it down near the ottoman. These she had picked out for the occasion -- actually, Allison had even given her a budget, which she had put to good use.

From the box she took a rubber dildo with a suction-cup base and planted it on the top of the ottoman before drizzling lubricant carefully onto its tip. She wondered how much of her movements Cass could infer just from the crinkling of her stockings as she walked, the movement of her hands as she worked, her dress scrunching as she bent over. Those were, unavoidably, the distinctive sounds of this place.

"Now, take your leggings off please, my toy. And hand me your plug."

"Yes, ma'am."

Helen watched as Cassandra peeled off her clothes, revealing plump thighs, smooth and shapely calves, feet soft against the hardwood floor.

God

, thought Helen, feeling something flutter inside her. The woman's legs complemented her butt quite wonderfully.

Then there was her hand gliding back as the other held up her skirt, the woman grunting a sigh as she relaxed herself for Helen, her opening widening as it pushed out the glass object, then reduced to a soft pucker as Cassandra dangled it by the base with her fingertips.

She stood up straight again with her leggings piled at her feet, making an effort to look at Helen's face as she presented the plug. "Ma'am," she said.

"Thank you, toy," replied Helen, admiring the thing as she received it. The thing must have been at least seven inches in circumference, and it was longer than she'd expected -- shaped almost like a large bullet with a flared base.

Good

, she thought.

Then you'll have no problem with what comes next.

"Take a seat, will you?" Helen asked, pointing rather unambiguously to the dildo that sat there. "I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Y-yes, ma'am," she stuttered. She turned and lowered herself onto the rubber cock, her head tilting up at Helen; she gasped as its cold tip penetrated her -- quivered as her legs relaxed into the cold rubber of the ottoman, her asshole stretching itself over the toy until her butt laid flat on the furniture's surface.

The woman took slow, deliberate breaths and bobbed in place, steadying herself with her hands, getting acquainted with the new companion.

"How is it, my toy?" Helen asked, looking Cassandra in the eyes as she bent to stroke her knee.

"G-good... ma'am," she sighed.

Helen knew how she must have felt: savoring the cold rubber pressed against her legs, invading her body, being just a little more conquered by this place -- by Helen -- than a moment ago. Of course, the dildo itself was merely six inches around and about as long -- nothing to a woman as well-trained as Cassandra -- although it must have felt good regardless.