Rubber training from master | Gerda's story | free bondage stories

He looked surprised. "But of course. One of the prime rules here is that a slave always wears gloves, except when changing costumes or taking a bath. However, I digress. I promised to explain the principal theories of you training." he lit her cigarette, and then his own.

"There are several categories of slaves. The term itself is an old-fashioned one, but difficult to change. Personally, I prefer the term Server, but I don't insist on it. Paradixically, a slave is not a beaten down object of contempt, but a person with pride and intelligence. She must be, otherwise her training will be long and painful. Apart from the Masters, she is the most coveted being in this establishment. She is a Mistress to her serving maid,, who are generally lowly girls with an upbringing of dire poverty and dim intelligence who would otherwise end up as cheap whores on the street. Here they work hard but are fairly treated, fed well, and live in comparative luxury.

"And earn a fantastic salary no doubt ?" "Your sarcasm is natural. Not a fantastic salary, no. But every month a sum of money is paid into a Swiss bank account in their name, probably more than they would earn as a waitress or farm girl. Take Maria for instance. She was a young call girl when I found her three years ago. Bright and attractive, with a lovely petite figure, I came across her outside a Rome night club, badly beaten and lying in the road. She was the victim of a customer who objected to paying for amateurish services. I took her back to my apartment, called a doctor and was kind to her for several days, then offered to train her here. She's been with me ever since. Luckily, she is a natural masochist and adores rubber, you will find her a most happy and willing maid."

Gerda was listening in a daze. Her glass was empty and she asked Guy for a refill. She could plainly hear the faint creak of leather as he crossed the room. She moved slightly in her costume, feeling a trickle of perspiration ease down her back. Despite her apprehension, it felt strangely sexy.

"So", Guy continued as he returned with her full glass, "A fine slave must be chosen with a great deal of care. Physically, her figure must be good, although a plump slave, if well proportioned, is preferred by some masters. The face is not so important." "Why ?" Gerda interjected.

"Because she id always masked," he replied simply, "However, we prefer a Master to bring his own would be slave for training. But always the demand is bigger than the intake, so we watch out for suitable material, unattached.

"Like me?" she said faintly.

"In a way. It started like that, but in the months we have been together, I have come to love you in my own way. Perhaps I shall decide to train you as my own personal slave."

"Thanks a bunch, Lord and Master." She wondered how she could joke at a time like this. She sipped the sherry and wondered if he was really serious, or whether tomorrow he would admit it was all a practical joke and they would go swimming and sailing and sunbathing together. She stubbed out the cigarette, afraid it would burn the glove.

"So the slave is the most important factor in the training center, and at all times she must strive to accept her training, however severe, and learn quickly to incur as few demerits as possible. She must take pride in her accomplishments, but pride must never cause her to resist the utmost humiliations which she will undergo. She must gladly accept pain when it is necessary, and in time will be taught to receive this in humbleness and turn it into joy and even Pleasure. Incidentally, we do not talk of orgasms in the centre, we use the old Biblical term of 'Taking Pleasure.'"

"From what you're hinting, there doesn't seem to be much chance of that around here" she said tartly.

"Oh, but you are so wrong. Not only will you be trained to take pleasure under duress, but you will be forced to do so at certain Punishment times. But I am getting ahead of myself. You will find a list of basic regulations in you room. Learn the well, and never forget them. You will also learn that you will never leave the room when a Master is present without going down on one knee and bowing your head, even if gagged and chained and blindfolded in a punishment hood .It is a sign of acceptance and highly important."

She let out a long sigh. "Guy, you just blew it ! I suffer from claustrophobia and there is no way, not even for you, that I will have anything put in my mouth or over my face !"

He smiled again and rose to tug at a bell pull by the side of the fireplace. "That's what so many of our young ladies say. It's surprising how quickly we cure them. The treatment seems most therapeutic. Shall we dine now ?"

An hour later they had almost finished a excellent meal, served to perfection by a tall amid in gleaming black latex, her head entirely encased in a skin-tight mask with only two tiny slits for the eyes and two small breathing holes at the nostrils. The faint bulge of a gag showed beneath the hood. Gerda ate little, with every movement feeling the heavy rubber dress, warm and clinging, her hands hot inside the mackintosh gloves, almost annoyed and faintly embarrassed by the rustle of rubber every time she lifted an arm.

The Count kept up a friendly conversation, refilling her glass with Dom Perignon from time to time.

"Usually I have a wine waitress serving us, but she is in punishment at the moment and is in heavy meditation until tomorrow morning. I would have liked to have introduced you to the Matron , Miss Dodds, but apparently there has been a rash of demerits occurred during the past few days, and tonight is punishment night, so she is busy supervising the various costumes and bondage."

Gamely, Gerda tried to keep her sense of values. "How may girls are there, on the island ?"

"In the training centre ? At the moment there are twenty four slaves being trained and fourteen serving maids. Plus Miss Dodds, who you might liken to a somewhat strict mother bunny. Then there is the Executioner, and ten male instructors."

Gerda choked on a peice of squishy Brie. "The Executioner ? It sounds ominous !" She laughed weakly.

"In a way, it is. The Executioner is a female, a rather sadistic lesbian to be precise. She is responsible to carry out, or supervise, all punishments and make sure the bondage a training harnesses are at maximum tightness. Sometimes the serving maids feel sorry for a slave, and do not tighten the straps or chains to their limit. Just pray that it will be a long time before you incur enough demerits to meet her officially.

It was with utter relief that a few minutes later the Count suggested she should retire to bed.

"You need your sleep. Tomorrow Maria will wake you with breakfast and prepare you for your morning enema, which Miss Dodds will give you."

Gerda opened her mouth to protest, but the Count lifted his hand imperiously. "No more arguments ! When you report tomorrow you will learn a great deal more, and if you are wise you will accept your new lifestyle and , ah, challenges. The quicker you accept it, the easier will be your path." He stood up and walked to the door. "Goodnight, my dear Gerda, and remember, from tomorrow onwards you are a slave in training and will always address me as "Master".

Too tired to argue, Gerda walked wearily upstairs, the black rubber dress feeling like a straight jacket, the corselet now cruelly biting into her waist. She found Maria waiting by her bed.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, first thing in the morning ! You may get your jollies from this, but it's not for me. Just undo this pronto and let me have a quick shower." Five minutes later she was undressed and luxuriating in the hot water sloughed of the sweat and perspiration accumulated under the dress. She dried and powdered herself and returned to the bedroom. A curious shapeless sack was lying on the bed. Maria held open the top and motioned her to step into it, her gag preventing any verbal communication. Tiredly, Gerda nodded, knowing that as soon as the maid left she could slip out of it.

She dropped the towel and eased her feet into the garment. It was made of very thick, cold rubber, a brilliant white colour. She put her arms into the sleeves and found they ended in attached gloves, heavy and clumsy. Maria zipped up the back, fiddling with the high neckband. Gerda lay back, realising the sheets and pillowcase were also of thick rubber. Maria tucked her in, bent briefly and kissed Gerda's forehead with her gagged mouth, picked up the towel, turned out the lights and left.

Gerda waited a moment, then reached up with her gloved hands in order to unfasten the zip. It was only after a minutes struggle that she realised that the zip was securely padlocked to the heavy neckband.

There were tears in her eyes as she lay back, her thoughts chaotic in her heavy rubber prison. As she drifted off to an exhausted sleep, she wondered if she really had seen what she thought she had. As Maria had bent to pick up the towel, the gold chain between her legs had tightened and had been clearly holding something inside her. She could have sworn she had heard a small groan or gasp from behind her gag.