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Latex Lady, the Whip and Me
My ordeal began last summer when I was perusing a German S&M magazine at my favorite music/ bookstore. I noticed a
middle-aged woman leering at me from behind. When I turned to look she scowled and walked away. I
muttered a word or two under my breath and continued reading. A few minutes later I left the store empty
handed. As I went to insert the key into my car door, a damp cloth smothered my face and that was all I can
recall prior to passing out.
When I awoke, I was in a dark room hanging by my feet stark naked. Soon, footsteps approached the door
and it opened. Two women in non-defining dresses came in and without a word lowered me to the ground.
The blood rushed from my head as I gained my balance and then asked what was happening. As if I hadn't
said a word, the two ignored me as a wire harness was placed around my genitals attached to a lead. My
arms were bound behind me in a confining sleeve that tapered to a point. There was a quick tug and I was
whisked out of the room down a long corridor. In the dark I could see twenty or so naked men and women
in line. I saw a tall , shapely woman that I immediately knew was in charge. She was a rare beauty with
big hips, a tiny waist and sizeable boobs. All this in a black latex body suit that appeared to be painted on –
it was so tight. I asked her how much money she wanted for my release. She tried to ignore me and
continued on. I could see the people in front of me were about to be shorn of their hair by a barber who was
standing in a foot of hair. He indiscriminately buzzed the hair from the nape of the neck to the forehead on
everyone and was done with each in less than a minute. My turn was up and soon there was only stubble
remaining. I was then forced to line up in front of a doorway where occasional shrieks could be heard. I
could also smell searing flesh and then became very frightened. I turned to bolt but was accosted by two
muscle bound men in leather. Their bulging codpieces told me they meant business so I gave up. They
carried me past the line and into the room to be branded on the buttocks. I felt as if I'd been shot and passed
out. They escorted me over to a guy resembling a blacksmith. He was still working on a woman who'd just
had her nipples pierced and ringed with heavy gauge steel. She appeared to be having her inner-labia
pierced as well with an assistant tugging on it while the blacksmith lanced it with a red-hot awl. She, too,
passed out as the man matter-of-factly continued to fit the ring through the skin. She was carried out and I
was pushed into place. I couldn't imagine what was in store for me but when a steel collar with a hasp-like
fitting on the front was placed around my neck, I knew what was next. A hot rivet was placed through the
center and struck on both ends. It was permanent the moment it cooled. I was soon returned to a dark,
solitary room only to wonder what was next.
I heard several feet approaching and when the door opened I saw two matronly women (one I recognized
from the music store) and the nameless woman in rubber I will refer to as the Latex Lady. She stood with
her arms crossed as the women undid my sleeve and tied each arm to the separate walls. The Latex Lady
informed me that I was to never speak and the penalty was fifty lashes. With that, the women located in
front of and behind me began to lash me with short bullwhips. My raging hard-on I was sporting
disappeared and was replaced with my wailing from the intense pain. The Latex Lady interfered after ten or
so and approached me with a ball-gag. She told me that screaming is punishable by the same amount of
lashes but she would spare me the grief by fitting me with this gag. As she stuffed it into my mouth and
wrapped the strap around my head, I couldn't help but notice her enormous ringed nipples peeking through
the thin rubber. I could smell the aromas of her perfume combined with a smell similar to a fresh, out of the
box inner tube. It was mesmerizing. I didn't even notice the winded and sweating women disrobe and
commence the punishment. Their pendulous breasts swung and bounced in cadence with the whips. It
seemed to last forever, yet, after a minute, they quit, untied me and left the room only to leave me for an
hour in the dark.
As I sat in the blackness, I heard a voice from someone in the next room. I asked them what we were in for
and why we weren't told. He told me we were going to be slaves and used to build a 30,000 square foot
underground bunker for the owner's international slave trade firm. When it was done we would be sold off
or kept for continual servitude. He also said it would not involve machinery and the rock breaking work
would take years. I knew I was in for the long haul.
I never saw daylight and was unsure what time it ever was. The door opened and a woman ordered me to
go with her to the barracks. There were around 150 men and women separated by steel doors and crammed
into small cots from the floor to ceiling – not unlike Auschwitz accommodations. There were more masked
leather men patrolling the corridor. How was I supposed to sleep under these conditions? The slaves
seemed pretty docile and broken. In spite of my attraction to the Latex Lady, I couldn't let this continue to
be my fate. However, the heavy steel doors proved to be impassable and any hopes of an escape that night
was no use – Until the door opened, that is. In walked a leather man. He purposefully made a bee line
towards me and dragged me by the feet down the hall. We reached what appeared to be a broom closet of
sorts and I knew this was not going to be official business. He yanked me to my feet and bent me over a
tub. When I turned to plead with him he punched me in the face. I heard the sound of his codpiece flop
open and it was then I had to act quickly. I reached down and grabbed the dagger out of his boot. I turned to
face him and he swept my feet out from under me with one kick. I grabbed his collar and pulled him down
on top of me and with one fluid motion, drove the dagger into his corroded artery. It was a swift move that
proved deadly. I donned his leathers and mask and left him in a heap.
As I made my way out of the place I received strange looks but was granted access toward what I believed
to be an exit. I was right. There was a pickup outside with the keys above the visor. While I started the
motor, the alarm sounded and people came rushing out. By that time, I was down the road and could see
lights from a highway. I saw the sign that indicated the direction I needed to go and was on my way home.
I first had to pick up my car from the music store. It was around 1:45 AM when I made my way back to my
apartment. It was only then I felt the welts from the whipping, the branding and the cold collar around my
neck. When I thought about the Latex Lady, I became aroused and longed to feel her wrath once more. I
arrived at my place and headed straight to the bathroom to jerk it. Three strokes and it was over. I decided
to write a letter to the FBI and the local police and inform them of the compound´s every detail. I made
copies and left one on my kitchen counter. I headed back to the music store and dropped off different letters
on the way in order to ensure the arrival. I got in the pick up and drove the half hour journey back to the
compound. I stripped off my clothes and stepped out of the vehicle with my hands behind my head. Within
seconds, a door opened and I was accosted be several guards. They rushed me inside where the Latex Lady
was angry and waiting. She was wearing a latex mini skirt and a latex bra. Simply delightful. I greeted her
with a hard on and a wink as the women hung me up by my feet. This time Latex Lady brandished the whip
herself and began to administer the lashing of a lifetime. Perhaps she realized I could see up her skirt the
entire time. To my surprise she was wearing sensible, yet sexy white satin panties that flexed and creased
every time she stepped into the blows. I would've passed out except that I would've missed this wonderful
display. When she was done, there wasn't more than an inch of my body that was spared the whip. It
wasn't until the women sponged the blood off with hydrogen peroxide cloth that I passed out.
This is when the real fun began. I was carried by several assistants to a part of the room that had a sturdy
card table set up. I was placed on my back with my head hanging off while my arms were bound to the
table legs. The Latex Lady walked in and proceeded to roll her skirt up to her wasp-like waist. She
wriggled out of her panties, wadded them up and shoved them into my mouth. What she produced next had
a menacing presence. An ebonite phallus attached to briefs by a strap. She donned this device and quickly
approached the table. She got up close and spat on me then proceeded to go to town. I began to think her
intentions were to kill me with internal injuries. After several thrusts I noticed her boobs began falling out
of her bra and soon spilled over with the bra still offering some support, it was a sight to behold with all the
heaving and bouncing. Then without warning she stopped mid-thrust, leaving the schlong in place, she
unsnapped it and walked around to my end of the table. She fished the panties out of my mouth and began
to straddle my face. I did what came naturally and began to nibble and bite on her unusually long clitoris.
She responded by grinding and squeezing me nearly unconscious. Her apparent gratitude was to grab my
cock with her sharp nails and crank me up and down. With her other hand, she swiftly smothered my
erection with her panties, soaked up the mess and stuffed them in my mouth. She grabbed the schlong and
before I knew it left without a word.
I didn't see anyone for a couple days while I sat in my solitary cell. Even the guards left me alone while I
healed from my wounds – which I was reminded of each time I moved. I was becoming dehydrated even
with the clouded liquid they fed me. I believe I was drugged since my concentration was poor and I was
disoriented. Even though I fell for the Latex Lady, I couldn't handle the servitude and sodomy. This whole
idea of returning to the compound could've been the kiss of death but fortunately the feds did receive my
letters and raided the compound surprisingly quickly. The slave masters were taken into custody and the
rest of us were either questioned, treated or hospitalized and released. I never came clean about sending the
anonymous letter.
Several months later I decided to visit the federal prison and visit my favorite lady. She still looked
awesome even in prison garb. We correspond regularly and I've promised not to take the witness' stand.
Will we have a normal relationship after her sentence? Probably not. Stay tuned.
Story Submitted By SubDude
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