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LATEX TIT WORSHIP
Dave Nelson always looked forward to his monthly
visit to Madame
with some trepidation- every time he went she'd invented some
fiendish new form of torture or humiliation.Why, only last month
he'd found himself trussed up tightly inside what at first sight
appeared to be a large old leather armchair, but was in fact a steel
frame with heavy rubber covered cushions attached to it, one of
which formed the actual seat and had an opening just big enough
enough for his head to stick out. The seat was arranged so that
Dave's head appeared near the front of the cushion, and this allowed
Madame G to sit on the seat with his head facing back between her
legs. He was made to wear a heavy black latex hood with mouth and
eye holes, that was not only zipped, but tightly laced as well.
On that day Madame was wearing crotchless latex leggings, and
very little else. On the few occasions that Dave managed to tilt
his head back, he was only too aware of her enormous boobs immediately
above him and yet out of reach of his tongue, and certainly his
hands, which were tied behind him in the tight space under her seat.Every
so often she would bring her powerful thighs together and squeeze
his head, urging him to press harder into her moist pussy with his
tongue.
So, another month passed, and once again Dave made his way up
the path to her home, not daring to think what might happen to him
this time. As usual, the door was answered promptly by the maid,
Rachel, who one day would be a powerful domina in her own right,
but for now was content to help Madame and learn everything she
could about the humiliation of males. She gave him a most disdainful
look, pointed out that he was five minutes late, and squeaking delightfully
in her tight latex maid's outfit, led him to the games room in the
basement. Who would have known, looking at the outside of this modest
suburban house, what unimaginable things its pretty occupant did
to men? To avoid awkward questions being asked in the neighbourhood
about her frquent male visitors, she let it be known that she was
a counsellor in psychiatric affairs related to mens role in marriage,
and to a certain extent that may well have proved true.....
Dave followed Rachel down to the basement, his mind running
wild with all the things he'd like to do with her dressed in that
provocative outfit, but mindful of the fact that any misdemeanor
would be immediatley punished, and he could never return to the
house. At the bottom of the steps, Dave saw the familiar and imposing
figure of Madame Gummi, clad rather unusually in looser-fitting
latex than usual. Where normally he would have expected a tight
black or red catsuit, with maybe a cape over the top, this time
she was wearing a rather voluminous latex jacket with a zipped front,
and a long flowing dress of heavy latex. The only thing common with
her usual mode of dress was the patent thighboots with six-inch
heels, the feet of which were just visible under the hem of the
dress. Dave knew these boots well- he'd worshipped every inch of
Madame's voluptuous body, and had cleaned those boots so often with
his tongue, or had her stand on him while he was trussed up on the
floor of the games room. Even with the bulk of the latex covering
her upper body, one could still see the outline of her magnificent
breasts as if trying to escape from the confines of the heavy black
latex.
She made her way over to the big chair, motioning him to follow.
Dave was relieved to see that the seat of the chair no longer had
the hole in it, so at least he wouldn't be forced to endure another
hour or two trussed up underneath her. She turned to sit down, the
long latex dress swirling around her booted legs, and gleaming in
the beams from the low-voltage spotlights set in the ceiling. The
room was not very large, but was certainly very well-equipped- on
every wall hung the tools of Madame's business- harnesses,manacles,whips,floggers,lengths
of nylon rope, and in one corner a rack with a huge variety of latex
gear, most of which was Madame's, but included a small selection
kept for her regular visitors.
Madame made herself comfortable on the chair, the latex of her
dress squeaking on the cushion as she settled back and beckoned
the maid over with a gloved finger. 'Now, Rachel', she said in a
firm but low voice, 'take this jacket off me, and help me prepare
the special costume for Mr Nelson. And you, Mr Nelson,' she said,
giving him a stern glance,' come here and kneel in front of me'
Dave obeyed at once- he knew that if he did not do so, she could
do far worse things to him.... She parted her legs as far as the
dress would allow, so he could get close to her. Rachel leaned across
and started pulling down the zip on Madame's jacket, and Dave saw
that underneath the jacket she was not naked, but there was yet
another mass of latex material, parts of which appeared to have
buckles on. Rachel unzipped the jacket, and Madame leaned forward
momentarily so it could be drawn down off her arms. Underneath was
what looked like an oversize blouse, with puff sleeves, a high collar
with a zip and buckle, and tight wristbands. Dave couldn't see too
well with all the loose folds of material in her lap, but it looked
as though the mysterious garment had a tight waist band as well.
Dave wanted to reach out and touch, but knew he mustn't, and in
any case he quickly found his arms behind his back with his wrists
held together by a latex strap.
'You're about to find out what's so special about this outfit,Mr
Nelson,' and as she spoke, Rachel pulled Dave's head forward, and
held it within an inch or two of Madame's chest with one hand, while
she reached down for the mass of loose latex on the frone of the
blouse with the other hand. Suddenly Dave found himself in darkness
as she pulled the latex over his head. For a brief moment he was
aware that Madame was naked under the blouse, and smelt her distinctive
perfume. He then became aware of a zip being closed behind his head,
and a strap being tightened around his neck. In the confines of
the latex, he realised that no provision had apparently been made
for breathing, and tried to conserve his breath while he waited
to see what would happen next.
Unknown to him, Rachel was preparing a further attachment to
the outfit- a short length of tubing ran from the side of the blouse
near the waistband to a fitting concealed near the back of the chair.
Just as he was about to commit the unforgiveable sin of crying out,
he became aware of a distant whirring sound, and realised that air
was being blown into his latex enclosure. Madame's chair now incorporated
a small fan unit, which was controlled by buttons just under the
surface of one of the side cushions. As long as the fan was running,
Dave had a supply of fresh air, and the stale air slowly escaped
through a row of holes under a flap on each shoulder. His head was
now trapped in the blouse, with his mouth and tongue in close proximity
to her full breasts and large nipples. 'Now you know what to do,'
he heard her say in the distance, 'and if I feel that you're not
doing your best I'll turn the fan off, and you'll have no fresh
air. Now you have an hour to pay homage to my boobs, and heaven
help you if you falter or make any sound. You will speak only if
I ask you to.'
The front of the blouse was now slowly filling out, as the air
was being blown in slightly faster than it could escape through
the little holes at the shoulders. Dave realised that he he would
have to breathe carefully in order not to have too high a concentration
of CO2. Naturally, had he faced any major difficulty Madame would
have freed him, but this would meant an end to his visits. A whole
hour! This was no better than being trussed up under the chair,
as kneeling for an hour would be painful, let alone having to service
Madame satisfactorily and be careful with his breathing. By now,
the blouse was inflating outwards in all directions, and if Dave
could only have seen it himself it was quite a bizarre sight. The
sleeves of the blouse were inflating now, as the air made its way
through the outfit, and the front was bulging out like a giant cone,
with Dave's neck at the apex, secure in the strapped collar. It
was getting quite warm now inside the latex, and beads of sweat
were forming on Dave's brow as he concentrated on the job in hand.
It was uncomfortable having to lean forward with his arms behind
his back, and now he had to contend with the swelling front section
of the blouse actually trying to pull his head backwards again.
He knew that if he paused even briefly Madame would be most displeased,
and with her hand hovering over the control button she could turn
off the air at any time.
Just then a drop of sweat fell from his forehead onto Madame's
skin, he felt her flinch as the liquid hit her, and then almost
immediately the whirring of the fan stopped..... Dave somehow had
to continue licking Madame's boobs while waiting for the air supply
to be restored. Madame's voice suddenly intterupted his thoughts-
'Every time that happens, Mr Nelson, your supply will be cut off,
and each break in the supply will be longer than the last- unless
of course you can lick the sweat off immediately. Rachel will keep
me fresh by spraying perfume into the blower system' Almost immediately,
the whirring started again, but this time the incoming air was heavy
with the scent of an expensive French perfume.
The smell was overpowering, but Dave knew that this was better
than nothing, so he continued as best he could. Many men would envy
him for what he was doing, but none would ever get the chance to
do it in a more comfortable manner. Madame's huge breasts had lead
her into a number of shallow and unsatisfactory relationships with
men, none of whom cared for the intellect that accompanied her magnificent
body, until one day she got wise, and decided to make men suffer
for the privilege of touching her. Every man who now visited this
house had to undergo some humiliation or torture for just an hour
in her presence, and her imagination knew no bounds when it came
to bizarre costumes and gadgets. Furniture always seemed to have
unusual functions, and latex outfits varied from tight figure hugging
garments which accentuated her best features, to custom garments
like the one Dave was currently a captive of. He remembered a previous
visit some months back, when she immobilised him in a blow-up bodybag
and squatted over his face while he squirmed and wriggled and sweated
in the grip of the heavy latex enclosure. He was forced to endure
the customary hour of torture whilst pleasuring her with his lips
and tongue, and on that particular occasion suffering a torrent
of abuse from Madame whenever she felt he was not performing satisfactorily.
As his mind recalled that earlier visit, he momentarily lost
his concentration on the job in hand, and there was an ominous silence
as once again his only source of air was cut off by an increasingly
impatient domina. This was one of the hardest sessions he'd ever
had at the house- would it now prove to be the last?
Story Submitted By Mr Blowup
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