Chapter 1
GERDA'S DIARY
It's
been a week since I arrived in Paris. I was picked up by this nice Englishman
on the main Rome-Genoa highway in Italy and somewhat rashly agreed for his firm
to publish my experiences as a Rubber Slave on the Island, but subject to my
Master/husband Guy de Rhislain approving.
Guy
has decreed that I must spend twelve weeks in complete freedom, after my year
of servitude and training. If I then wish to return to slavehood I am to
telephone a certain number. But if I decide I want freedom, I am to insert a
'personal' in Paris Soir and a large sum of money will be paid into a Swiss
bank account in my name.
Already
I am going mad with frustration! I am lost without my daily enema and my
routine slave whipping and I feel horribly naked when I go out without my head
enclosed in the tight latex hood. It feels strange to sit down and not feel the
delicious sensation of a greased Rod being driven up my bottom.
But my
orders were to wear only 'ordinary' clothes and I'm not even supposed to wear
the long green rubber mackintosh and rubber thigh boots in which I travelled.
What a hope!
The
day after I arrived I found a drugstore in the Rue St. Honoée where they were
advertising 'the new American Reducing Suit'. I could hardly believe my good
luck. It was a thin latex catsuit and, apart from taking a bath every night, it
has never been off me.
I've
thought of writing to Guy, or even to my beloved Laura and pleading to come
back now. But my Master was very definite about his orders, so I must try to
get through the next eleven weeks somehow.
I've
engaged a new model agency and, by sheer good luck, one of my first jobs was to
model a new collection of raincoats!.Some of them were of awful gaberdine but a
few were of rubber or vinyl and one beautiful one of rubber-lined red satin,
with a high strapped collar. I've bought this at a discount from the Collection
and wear it as an alternative to the heavy green mackintosh. It rustles
superbly and, being nearly ankle length, it covers my latex undersuit and shows
only the high heels of my thigh boots. To hell with Guy's instructions!
GERDA'S
DIARY - ELEVEN WEEKS LATER
Well,
I haven't written up my diary for all these wretched weeks. I haven't enjoyed
my 'freedom' at all, but luckily my agency has kept me in work, so I've slept
soundly at night in my latex suit, sometimes with my heavy green rubber
mackintosh spread loosely over my head so that I could smell the warm fragrance
and imagine I was being slowly suffocated by my adored Master.
As a
top model, still in demand thank goodness, I've earned quite a sum of money. I
also have nearly all the money Guy had given me when I left the island.
So
I've put it to good use. I've had the most superb cat-suit made in shining
black leather by one of the top couturières in Paris. To go with this, I
ordered a long leather military style coat, high-heeled black boots and long
black leather gloves. I plan to wear this exotic outfit over my latex undersuit
when I return tomorrow.
(No
doubt I will incur a mass of Demerits for having bought the latex undersuit and
I hope I will be severely punished!)
I also
bought a pair of slinky black latex gloves used in industrial factories, which
will go nicely under my leather gloves. But my pride and joy is the mask I
bought at the industrial shop where I found the gloves.
This
is a complete rubber helmet which pulls tightly over the head and has only
small glass eyeholes. One breathes through a small filter at the mouth,
otherwise it's completely airtight. Apparently it was used by workers making
asbestos sheets for housing, to prevent the asbestos fibres getting into the
lungs, which is highly dangerous. The assistant who I bought it from thought I
was quite mad, but I told him I wanted it in order to remain anonymous at a
masked fancy dress ball!.
I'm
wearing it now as I write in my diary. It is made of thick black rubber and very
tight against my face. I can see and breathe surprisingly easily (too easily)
and I'll put it on when I arrive at the little port and board the Island
launch. It has a wide neck-band and I'll strap the high collar of my leather
suit over it.
God!
I'm looking forward to tomorrow! I'm catching the early Air France plane to
Rome, then I've hired a car to take me up to the port, a two-hour drive.
Now
it's time to telephone the Island and tell them the errant slave is returning
home.
Chapter 2
The
telephone rang in Matron's room. She rustled across in her heavy rubber uniform
and picked up the receiver.
"Miss
Dodds here."
The
slave on the switchboard spoke excitedly. "It's from Paris, Matron. I
think it may be Slave Gerda!"
"Then
put her through and no listening in or I'll give you 50 Demerits."
"Oooh,
yes please." There was a click and the Matron was speaking to Gerda.
"How
nice to hear your voice. We've missed you."
"Matron?
Dear Matron, I'm on my way back. Am I expected? How's my lovely Master?"
Matron
was intensely glad to hear Gerda's voice, but her instructions were implicit.
She said impersonally: "Slave Gerda? Have you decided to return
then?"
"Oh
yes! I've hated every moment I've been away. I should be in the port around 2
30 tomorrow afternoon. Will there be a boat available?"
"Of
course. The Master will be glad to see you, no doubt. But have you really
thought carefully what this entails?"
There
was a moment's pause. "Well of course. I'm returning. Isn't that sufficient
answer?"
"You
are returning to perpetual slavehood," Matron said sternly, "for the
remainder of your life you will wear rubber costumes and suffer all the
training and punishments which your Master shall desire. Are you sure you want
this?"
"My
darling Matron, if only you knew! I've been waiting twelve miserable weeks for
tomorrow."
Matron's
mouth twisted into a smile. "Then, dear Slave Gerda, welcome home! The
launch will be ready for you."
Gerda
stepped out of the hired car and paid the driver. He looked admiringly at his
elegant fare in the long black leather coat and shiny boots. Typically Inglese,
he thought, with the blonde hair and rosy complexion and that slim tall figura. With a faint sigh he turned the car back
towards Rome, his fat wife and six bambini.
Gerda
strode across to the small changing shed near the moored launch. She waved
gaily to the Captain who, as always, was clad in heavy green rubber overalls
and thigh boots, only his peaked cap with the gold braid denoting his superior
rank. She hastened into the hut and put on the symbolic waterproof uniform for
making the sometimes rough crossing to the island.
As she
slipped into the long heavy rubber cape and zipped up the neck to the high
tight collar, she felt a thrill of expectation that in less than an hour she
would be returned to her slavehood, ready and willing to serve her Master
again. From her large shoulder-bag she brought out the new rubber helmet and
pulled it over her head, feeling the cold rubber press against her face. After
tucking the neckpiece firmly inside the high collar of-her leather catsuit, she
pulled up the rubber hood of the cape and tied it tightly under her chin.
The
captain saluted her as she walked aboard the large launch, showing no surprise
at the rubber helmet obscuring her entire face. She walked forrard to the bench
in front of the charthouse and delighted in the spray which swept over her as
the boat swung out into the Mediterranean.
Forty
minutes later the launch moored alongside the Island's pier. Dripping wet from
the journey, but comfortably dry inside her rubber, Gerda descended to the
pier, to be greeted ecstatically by her personal maid Maria. Despite the rubber
helmet Gerda pressed her head against the masked face of her faithful maid. Then
she unzipped the rubber cape and together they walked up to the huge mansion
which was now her home.
On the
way she listened to the chatter and gossip of Maria, relating to Gerda's
fellow-slaves and a progress report on the Newcomers. But her mind was only on
her homecoming to her Master.
She
was slightly disappointed that no one met her in the Grand Hall but Maria
hastened her upstairs to her comfortable quarters. "You are to dine with
him tonight she whispered. ''He's sent you a most terrific costume."
Although
Gerda was not aware of it, both Guy and Laura had witnessed her entrance into
the building through the overhead video cameras and each had smiled secretly at
Gerda's superb leather outfit and rubber helmet. As Laura remarked honestly to
Le Comte later: "Our lovely slave is showing off, as usual. Perhaps it's
time we resumed some severe training."
Twenty
minutes later Laura, the Chief Executioner in charge of punishments in the
Training centre, was relaxing in her quarters when the intercom telephone buzzed.
She smiled with anticipation as she lifted the receiver.
"Madam
Laura here."
"It's
me, Gerda," said a slightly timid voice. "May I come to see you?"
"Why, Gerda,
what a pleasant surprise. Yes, Matron informed me you were returning today.
Come down to my suite immediately."
Puzzled,
Gerda replaced her phone. She had been expecting a more fulsome welcome from
her adored lover, but she hastened eagerly down to Laura's luxurious quarters,
still wearing her smart black leather costume over the tight latex undersuit.
She
knocked at the Executioner's door and was told to enter. With a sudden thrill
of dismay and excitement she saw that Laura was standing in the centre of the
big room, encased in shining red vinyl breeches and sleek high-necked blouse,
tightly belted by a wide leather corselet. Long red vinyl thigh boots,
stiletto-heeled, swept up to her thighs and sinister black latex elbow gloves
and a tight black latex mask completed the dominant vision. Just in time Gerda
remembered to briefly kneel in front of her Mistress, hearing the slight creak
of her form-fitting leather costume. She was suddenly glad she had not removed
her tight latex hood.
Laura's
white teeth gleamed through the mouth hole of her mask. "So, my dear
Gerda, you have returned to your slavehood. Your husband and Master will be
pleased at your decision; he has missed your company."
Gerda
stood uncertainly. "And you, Mistress Laura, have you missed me a little too?"
The
sinister figure was silent for a moment, then suddenly stepped forward and
embraced Gerda.
"I
was determined not to be sentimental when you returned - but yes. I missed you
terribly. I've worried for twelve awful weeks that you might find the social
life of Paris too attractive and that you would never come back."
Gerda
hugged the gleaming figure. "You should have known better, lovely Laura. How
could I ever exist without my rubber life and my love for Guy and you is all I
care about. How is the old bastard? Maria told me I wasn't to see him until I
reported for dinner. Is he well?"
"He's
in fine shape. He was like an excited schoolboy this morning when he knew you
were arriving. I'm sure he's spent the whole day planning some awful programme
for you this evening." She stood back, admiring Gerda's new costume. "What a superb
outfit. Are you wearing latex underneath?"
Gerda
pivoted in the high-heeled black shiny boots, showing off her slim figure
encased in the tight black leather suit and long gloves, the high neck strapped
over the collar of her latex mask.
"Yes,
of course, I had this made specially in Paris. It cost a bomb!"
Laura
stroked Gerda's smooth mask with her gloved hands and said silkily: "Yes,
my dear, I'm sure it did. And it will also cost you a vast number of Demerits.
You were ordered not to wear any 'gear' while you were in freedom. Don't
tell me you only wore your latex undersuit for the first time today."
Gerda
squirmed guiltily in her latex and leather. "No, Mistress. In actual fact,
I've hardly been out of some kind of rubber during the whole twelve weeks. I
know I'll have to be fearfully punished."
Laura's
laughed tinkled. "You haven't changed a bit. You'll start your revision
training tomorrow, but why don't you bend right over in that lovely tight
leather and see if you can feel my whip through it."
Her
heart beating faster with excitement, Gerda bent herself over an armchair and
thrust her gleaming leathered bottom impudently upwards. Laura crossed to a
cupboard and selected a long thin whip, then returned and measured it carefully
against the slave's tight suit. Joyfully, Gerda heard the rustle of vinyl as
Laura raised her arm, then she gave a muted cry of pain as the whip lashed
across her bottom.
After
ten hard strokes Laura laid down the vicious thin whip and Gerda stood up,
ruefully rubbing her smarting rear. "WOW! I'm out of practice; that really
hurt!"
Laura
gave her an affectionate hug. "I enjoyed that hors d'oevres, we'll
do better tomorrow. Now you'd better go to your quarters and get dressed for
dinner with Guy. He told me he's had a rather special outfit made for the
occasion."