Celine's Seduction To Rubber

Chapter Five-1

Chapter Five

Love’s Labours Won

When I returned to awareness, the room was in darkness. I could not believe that I had been unconscious for so long, as it was mid-Summer and the nights did not draw in until long after ten pm. I still sat at my desk, but could barely move. It was certain that I had been restrained in some way, but I could not see how and felt physically sick, for the crush of the corset, instead of easing, had now become overwhelming.

Suddenly, a bright shaft of light forced me to close my eyes. Behind my closed lids, the brightness held steady, and once more the room was flooded with the sun’s warming rays. I waited for a few moments before blinking my eyes open and getting once more accustomed to the light. Now, I could see that although Frau Baxter stood between me and the window, it was indeed still daytime.

“That will be fine my man,” I heard her say. “When you see Herr Vassen at the door, he will pay you for the work.”

She was talking to someone on the other side of the half-raised sash window and I then realised what had caused the darkness. I had woken just as new shutters had been put to the test and so here was the reason for the measurement of the window. Frau Baxter had seen to the employment of a workman to replace the long-rotted storm defences with new, solid, thick, wooden shutters.

I heard a muffled reply to her instructions and after a short delay, ladders being noisily moved away from the half-balcony outside the window. More muffled voices filtered into the room from the area of the front door, then came the sound of a vehicle being driven away.

Frau Baxter leant out of the window and tested that she could open and close the shutters with ease from the inside, then in the darkness I heard her shuffle back; ensuring that with their full closure they completely excluded all light. When she opened them once more I could not prevent a tickle in my nose from growing into a sneeze and was pleased to see her jump, startled by the sudden noise.

“Ah! So the sleeper wakes,” she called. “I am sorry you missed your tea Celine, but then again you did not, if you see what I mean?” Whimsy? But my neither my mood or condition allowed me to enjoy her jokes. “Your father,” she continued, “also grew a little faint when you passed out, and so I made other arrangements to hold you in position to be fed.” Still speaking, she came behind me and began to wrestle with whatever held my arms at my sides and my body to the bench. These bindings fell to the floor then Frau Baxter returned to my front and continued. “It will soon be time to prepare you for bed and to this end I have another small surprise for you.” She beckoned me to stand, and I did with great difficulty. “Turn and face the wall now,” she continued, helping me to remain upright.

I heard the jangle of metal on metal, and waited in silence for what was to come for there was no more fight in me, and I could not hope to evade this sss, or whatever it was she had planned. For the moment I would have to accept my fate, at least until a chance of escape presented itself. Surely she would at some point lower her guard and thus leave me with an opening? I had already resolved that without my father to save me, my only chance was to quit the house and town to live a life away from this madness.

I stood still, glancing sideways at the wardrobe mirror while Frau Baxter draped across my shoulders two thick rubber straps of the same hue as the corset. These were but the first pieces of a web of such bindings that in no time encircled my whole torso. A wide belt was next wrapped around my waist and the two shoulder straps were fastened to it at front and rear. I felt a shorter one used to join the first two, behind me at shoulder blade height and likewise another was used in front, above my breasts. The next strap was fixed to this and passed down between my breasts to also be anchored to the waist belt. Wide bands formed tight girdles for my thighs and these also were joined to the belt by means of four thinner straps. Strange buckles fitted with ratchets adorned all of these and were soon tightened to build upon me a very personalised harness, but for what purpose I did not know. The final piece of this grouping consisted of two thin ligatures that passed between my legs and joined at front and rear to the waist belt which, with these additions, was rapidly tightening around my already severely compressed middle in what seemed a further attempt to reduce the size of my waist! Once the harness was complete Frau Baxter moved around me, tightening once more each strap to buckle, until my harness felt and looked virtually a part of the corset.

When satisfied that it was as tight as she wanted, Frau Baxter once more touched each buckle. Not until she reached those fittings at the top rear of the shoulder straps did I hear an almost imperceptible click and knew without asking that there was some form of lock incorporated into the structure of each ratchet.

I stood quietly and miserably, unresisting while she tightly fitted wide cuffs of the same design around my wrists and ankles. Now I could see how she locked each one: by pressing both sides of the buckle simultaneously inwards, the ratchet locked onto the strap’s edges. I could not see how it might be released, but when she attempted to pull the joint apart to check its security, it could not be separated. I prayed that there was indeed a key for this harnessing, for if not, I would be wearing it for some time to come and also the corset and underwear it caged!

She next picked up a device that brought forth a fear from deep in my subconscious. It was a collar. Not a typical, utilitarian dog’s collar, but a thick, deep, rigid device; designed specifically for the length of a human neck. It was some six or seven centimetres in width with its edges formed to fit snugly between the head and shoulders of the wearer; equipped with two narrow, thick straps employing the same locking ratchet buckles as the harness and cuffs. Not only this though, but it also had sturdy, three centimetre diameter steel rings, set both at its front and rear and on each side. The collar was black in colour with wide red piping about the edges, thus matching the harness I already wore. I shivered, looking upon it held in my Governess’ hands while she approached.

“Lift your chin, Celine! This collar will not harm you. On the contrary, it is in fact designed with the intention of enhancing your posture, carriage, and bearing, as well, of course, as to assist me with your training.”

“Please Frau Baxter! Must I wear it?” I stammered, very nearly in tears at the prospect.

“Of course you must wear it my girl! Why, once it is on and you have worn it for a short while, you will almost forget it is there. Now, do as I say, please!” she demanded.

I hesitantly raised my chin and an instant later felt the coldness and rigidity of the wide band press snugly against my windpipe, overlaying the high neck piece of my under suit. Frau Baxter wasted no time wrapping it around my neck before running the straps loosely through their buckles. My long blond hair was brushed aside, then her palm pushed on the back of my skull until the upper edge under my chin began to choke me. I gulped then gargled momentarily with the sensation, at which point she jerked both of the thick straps through their ratchets! The wide, restrictive collar suddenly clamped tightly around my throat and I gasped with the terrifying yet strangely erotic sensation of its grip, then the strap’s ratchet buckles snicked quietly closed, locking the strange thing irremovably around my neck.

This was not the end of the collar’s fitting though for she took two more of the locking straps from the side table. At my back, I felt one of them threaded through a ring on the bottom edge of the collar and seconds later she had passed it through another on the upper edge of my corset, then led it down to my waist cinch. Then there came the ratchet sound again when it was drawn through the buckle! To my horror and great discomfort, the collar seemed to grip my throat all the tighter, arching me back and I moaned and gasped, waving my arms about in agitation.

“Stop that, you silly girl!” she barked, coming around to stand before me, the other strap dangling from her hand. “Hold still now!”

I ceased my fruitless writhing, wishing myself anywhere but here while Frau Baxter fastened this other strap to the collar at the base of my throat. She immediately drew this one down between my armoured and out-thrust breasts, then threaded it through a ring on the belt before tightening it most severely. Again, I couldn’t stop the moans and gasps of misery that these fixings evoked.

“There!” she said smugly, “A Posture Collar that you will find very effective! While you wear it Celine, you will find it almost impossible to turn your head from side to side more than a centimetre or so, and, as you are aware even now, it will hold your head most correctly, ever erect! Hold still!”

Her final indignity was to lift my hands to my waist and there employ a short, locking strap threaded trough the rings on my wrist cuffs and a set of others on the front of my cinch belt, rendering me her helpless prisoner. For the moment she did not apply any restriction to my ankles and I was absurdly grateful for this small freedom.

“Time for bed now, Celine,” my wardress said. I was not sure how long I had been unconscious, but judged from the light outside, that it could be no more than five pm.

“But Frau Baxter? It is surely much too early for bed!” I pleaded, “Besides, I have a great deal of studying to do for my school examinations.”

“From now on I will decide what time is right for you to retire Celine, and for the moment at least, you can forget about your schoolwork.”

She turned me with her strong hands until I was facing my rubber-covered bed, then forcibly bent me forward so that I might see where I was to spend the night. I could not avoid looking, my head held within the strict confines of my Posture Collar, and saw that the white cover and top sheet had now been fully turned down. To my horror there, snaking across the revealed expanse of black rubber, were a half dozen lengths of heavy, glittering, silvery chains, complete with padlocks fed loosely through the end link of each! I gasped and shivered at the terrifying sight and tried to turn from this so-called bed, now openly whimpering in fear and anguish that I was to be forcibly restrained.

“Oh, pppllleeeaaasssee, Frau Baxter! Please, don’t chain me!” I wept pitifully, desperate to avoid what I knew I could not.

“Don’t be silly Celine! Sit down on the edge of your bed, and lay back if you please!”

What choice did I have but to do as she commanded? And so I turned and first sat on the bed, then allowed her to lift my legs and turn them lengthways. She pushed and I shuffled until I was fully in the centre of the resilient, rubber-covered mattress, then I fell back upon it. I was immediately conscious anew of the crushing grasp that the corset had upon my body when I tried to assume a comfortable position, but I could not, for the neck brace still held my head back at a sharp angle and my now tiny and rigid waist did not even touch the surface of the mattress! Even with its built-in resilience, my torso assumed a totally unnatural attitude; forcing the back of my head to take a deal of my weight and pushing it firmly forward. Frau Baxter quickly positioned the pillow directly under my neck rather than employing it to cushion my head. Without this support I am sure I would have choked to death, having my windpipe pressed tightly against the front edge of the rigid collar.

At the middle of the bed, two chains were fed through the heavy steel rings fixed onto the sides of the harness waist belt, then pulled back upon themselves before the padlocks were used to hold their lengths. I listened as first one, then another snapped shut with a subtle, yet conclusive click and there seemed a finality in each one’s closing; spring-loaded locking levers snapping into place. Next, my Posture Collar was fastened in the same manner and finally, my ankles were pulled wide apart and she tightly chained each one to a bottom corner of the bed’s metal frame! There were no more chains and I therefore assumed that my wrists would remain as they were; strapped to my waist cinch. I was not disappointed, for my jailer was done with her locks.

During the entire securing process I lay unresisting, for I knew it was pointless and would more than likely result in dire consequences of some sort. Now, however, when she stood up to survey the results of her work, I twisted and rolled, attempting to somehow ease the grip and compression of the corset that seemed to be slowly crushing the life from my body. I could move perhaps two centimetres in any given direction before the chains snapped tight with a clatter of links, and moaned in misery, staring up at her stern face, seeking any sign she might relent.

There was none.

Frau Baxter silently pulled up the top sheet and tucked it in at my neck, then turned and switched on a small lamp at my bedside before moving to the window and once more closing the shutters. Although I could not angle my head to see, I heard the closing of another lock; the one fitted to them, then the sash window was pulled down and almost closed.

“Goodnight Celine. I will be downstairs for some hours for there is much to discuss with your father about you and your future. No doubt you will be fast asleep long before I retire. I shall bring your father up, after you are asleep, to inspect you so that he can assure himself that you are safe and secure in my care.”

She had softened her voice, so that one could almost believe that she did care. Was it me then that was out of step with reality? Perhaps the absence of a mother during those critical years in my adolescence had left me lacking? Was I so very wrong then? What nonsense! But, for a moment, she’d set me to doubting myself. Then, she’d had the gall to tell me that she would bring my father up to ensure that she was treating me well! Laying there, I ran through the day’s happenings from her arrival to this: my rubber covered body chained into a bed of rubber! Even while I tried to understand what was happening; what had turned my life on its head; I felt that wonderful s****l wetness come once more between my legs. Was it good fortune or design that even though my wrists were bound to my waist I could still reach my v****a with my finger tips? And what a surprise to find that the gusset of my warm rubber underwear was provided with a long, split opening. I could have touched skin to skin, but why then did I prefer to keep that single layer of the whisper thin grey rubber between my finger and its goal?

Those next wakeful hours were like none I had spent before. No longer was the gentle fondling merely a tool of arousal. Twice before a s****l caress had been cruelly curtailed, but now, for the first time, I could build upon those opening gambits, stirring to a rhythm. First slow, then fast; rising to almost to a crescendo, then an unmeasured moment’s wait, a self-enforced peace, before once more beginning that rhythmic caress. The index finger of my other hand found my c******s; that nubbin of total pleasure, and I teased then coaxed it from its covering hood; holding and worrying it like a dog might a favoured bone. Now I had my very first, mind-numbing orgasm! Wave upon wave of total pleasure that seemed never to subside assailed me.

Like a child with a new plaything, I could not cast aside my new-found joy. Again and again I played with my body; each time learning better how to control that final, indescribable burst of pleasure, until at last I could carry myself to the peak of that mountain, and stay, resting until I was ready to let myself careen down the farther side in an energy surge as vital as life. All the while, I was immersed in the pervasive scent, the wonderful aroma of the rubber I wore and was confined by, now seeming all the stronger from the warmth it had borrowed from my body.

Finally, after a fifth such journey into this realm of star-burst light, I was sated and fell into a deep and wondrous sleep. I had by then admitted at least one thing to myself: in this natural touch of rubber, sometimes harsh, oft times velvet, I had found a companion that was at the same time a lover and a master. I was a slave to my excitement.

The lure of rubber had snared another victim in its embrace.