October’s chill meant early nights and introspection. No matter what shift he worked, Hatsu would always leave when the sun had set.
He’d listen to music or a podcast, but headphones wouldn’t help him escape from the rustling of leaves and chill of the late-Autumn air.
Work was slow, too. There were flashes of intense activity, when students would visit “Big Mugs Cafe” and order food and drink. Lunchtime, too, when employees would visit and politely wait in ordered lines for fresh-pressed coffee and fresh-unfrozen pastries. Hatsu would diligently serve them with a smile, then go back to idling on his phone.
The best and worst part of the season was the fashion. The colder air meant that there was an infinite plethora of new options to layer new clothes together, but the earthy colors of the dusking season didn’t go with his pale skin, blue eyes, or dark hair.
Hatsu kept an extremely feminine figure and fashion sense. When it was warmer, he’d wear stockings, short shorts, and a blouse. It wasn’t uncommon for others to use the wrong pronouns, but it was worth it to feel comfortable in his own skin and what he wore.
Plus, he thought to himself as he swiped around on his phone, I’ve got access to twice the wardrobe.
A bell rang. Hatsu looked up. From across the counter, a woman had a gloved hand resting on a service bell. Hatsu had never had anyone ring a bell on him before.
She had a squarish face, pale skin, and short mahogany hair in a pixie cut. Her dark lips curled slightly downward.
“How can I help you?”
“You can get me coffee,” she said. It sounded like a joke, but it wasn’t.
“All right, what s-”
“Medium black. No cream, no sugar.”
Hatsu passed her a small styrofoam cup, and with it went his eagerness to shop. When she left, he didn’t open up his phone, and instead began looking at the clock. The long, chilly and dark walk home would be a welcome respite from customers.
Later that week, the woman returned. The weather was sunny out, and she wore a pair of sunglasses as well as a beige trench coat. Hatsu straightened his back reflexively when seeing her. Consciously, he wanted to make sure that customers at the cafe felt welcome. Unconsciously, he wanted to prove… something to her.
“Hello, ma’am. What can I get you?”
“Coffee, black. Large.”
“Not a problem. Anything else?”
She folded up her sunglasses. Her gloved finger traced the glass of the counter, looking at cheap pastries and pies. “Is this all you have?”
Hatsu furrowed his brow. “Is there something else you need?”
The woman’s expression hardened. “I was simply hoping for something a bit more fresh. Not to worry.”
She paid in cash, and left Hatsu alone. Business was slow, and the image of a tall woman never left her mind.
The third time he saw her, he was expecting her demeanor to soften. It didn’t. Nor did it on the fourth time, when she ordered tea instead. Other customers he saw that often developed a friendly repartee, but not her. The fifth time was different. For one, it was outside the confines of the cafe.
For two, it was on impulse. Hatsu turned a corner, and saw what looked like a car that had careened into a lightpole. The lights were on and someone was slumped over in the driver’s seat. He ran towards it, eager to help. To his great surprise, it was the same woman he’d seen at the cafe.
The last way in which it was different was the malignant smile she wore as she grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him in close, and delivered a tremendously painful, stinging zap to his stomach. The world felt out of focus. Everything was soft and warm as she gently cradled the young man into her car. His mouth rolled open, and the woman gently placed something under his tongue.
The haze that followed helped ease the transition from the chill of the evening to the soft warmth of the car, and from there into absolute darkness. When the glamor glow of whatever she’d given him began to wear off, Hatsu felt a slight soreness in his arms and a growing thirst.
A hand grasped at his chin, and a straw was placed between his lips. He drank reflexively, cool water bringing him out of the haze and into the new, startling reality. His arms were bound above his head, and a blindfold kept him in the dark. The room smelled pungently of rubber.
A gloved hand removed the blindfold. His eyes adjusted quickly in soft light to a terrible and beautiful goddess of exquisite black rubber.
She wore a thick-looking catsuit like a second skin. A boned corset drew his eye to her waist and chest. Thanks to a pair of platform boots, Hatsu’s face came to the top of her chest. Her face was covered by a thick, black rubber mask; dark lenses obscured her eyes while an intimidating respirator covered her mouth, tubes leading behind her back to pouches on her waist.
The domina shone like sunlight, reflecting glossy shine from small lights throughout the room. She extended a gloved hand to his face, cupping his chin gently. He knew he was drooling, and it was confirmed when she gently inserted her rubber-gloved thumb between his lips.
Hatsu blushed, reflexively licking and suckling at the mistress’s finger until she retracted it, wiping his own saliva on his chin. He didn’t dare act against her.
He quivered, trying to calm himself down. In a vacuum, he felt confident that he could defend himself; he was physically adept, if lithe, and could almost certainly fight off this woman in black. But with his arms bound, he was utterly helpless in a physical sense. And the sheer aura she had was one of intimidation. His captress gave off an aura of menace with each breath.
Ironically, though, the bag and respirator meant that he couldn’t feel her breath at all. It made her feel slightly alien; it only accentuated the probing, prodding, and methodical way in which she studied her prey.
After removing his clothes, the domina carefully inspected his body from bottom to top. Gloved hands rubbed oil or lotion into his skin, gently fingering Hatsu’s slim form. He wiggled as her hands worked their way up to his groin. Reflexively, he shied away, but she planted a firm grasp on each of his thighs, as if telling him to stay still.
He couldn’t stay entirely still. His member rose, aroused at the sight and sound of his rubberclad abductor. Hatsu knew that he was somewhere in a basement, tied up, and utterly at this woman’s mercy. And, though he’d never admit it, he loved it. The young man’s arousal grew as she worked her way to his chest, flicking at his nipples before clutching his neck.
There was something incredibly powerful about the way that she rested her arms around his neck and shoulders. It was as if she was a lover, resting herself on a familiar body. Cradling it with a degree of intimacy that Hatsu knew she had not earned and did not deserve. But, despite her anonymity, her warm body had such a profoundly erotic effect that he blushed all the same. It was ridiculous, but he almost expected her to kiss him.
That expectation only increased when she gently stroked his neck and cheeks with both hands. Bolts of lightning shot through his body as she inspected her goods. He almost didn’t notice when she locked a collar around his neck. He obviously couldn’t see it, but the clink-clink-clink sound of a heavy chain behind it made it clear that it had a leash. The captor attached it to links on the celing, and let down his arms. Hatsu took a moment to rub his sore wrists and biceps before speaking.
“I don’t know who you are, or what you want. I’m nobody.”
She said nothing, staring at him through tinted lenses. Her hands rested on her hips.
“Will you… will you please let me go?”
The slow shaking of her head made Hatsu more aroused and terrified than he had ever been in his life.
“No,” she said.
“Why not?”
Hatsu regretted saying it. He didn’t want to give her any possible excuse to hurt him. But she didn’t do anything cruel. She left, and returned showing him a black garment.
“It’s for you,” she said. “Put it on. I’ll help you into it.”
“And if I refuse?”
The woman didn’t skip a beat. She pressed a button on the wall, and Hatsu felt his collared neck raised ever-so-slightly up towards the ceiling. He gasped, and she relented. And so, he began with the first of many concessions to her demands. Hatsu put on the suit.
After another drug-induced sleep, Hatsu awoke in a small cell, no bigger than a closet. He got the sense that it was a closet, turned into a private prison. Aside from a vent on the ceiling and a dim LED light, every surface was an utterly identical padding. He grunted and tried to get to his feet before getting up. It was very difficult considering his current attire.
Hatsu had been dressed - actually, he had dressed himself - in a fetishist’s wet dream. A thick black latex suit went from his metal collar to his toes. It hugged his body tightly, though he could swear that it had been padded out in some places to exaggerate his curves.
Long boots that went to his calf were kept in place by black straps, each of which had been locked in place and had a D-ring dangling in case attachments were needed. Similar gloves around his arms matched with a jet black rubber.
“Why me?” Hatsu shouted.
One wall fell open. The woman was there, and she helped him up and out of the small cell. He almost wanted to go back inside - it was tight, warm, and comfortable. This powerful domme’s fingers were threatening.
“I’m a collector,” she said. Hatsu saw her without her garb. His lip quivered.
It was the same woman that had faked the car accident; the same woman who’d ordered coffee. Obviously. He tried to think if he’d ever gotten her name, and failed. She smiled at him, though, rubbing fingers up and down his latex-clad body. Her smile was wide, thin, and genuine.
“I collect the most beautiful things. You, Hatsu, are one of them. Cute little things like you shouldn’t be out there in the cold, cruel world,” she said. She had a matter-of-fact way of explaining it, as if abducting and suiting him up were all natural.
Outside the small padded closet, Hatsu realized he was in a suburban home’s second floor. It looked like he was in a living room, with several doors presumably leading to bedrooms and a hallway that turned into a stairwell at the end.
“Well, uh,” Hatsu stammered, “They say if you love something, let it go, right?”
The Collector shook her head. “Tch tch. I didn’t say I loved you. You couldn’t handle me if I tried. But you are a cute one, and I simply had to have you. Don’t worry, you’ll be well cared-for, and I promise you, you’re going to love it.”
He shook his head slightly. “This is mad,” he said. “You can’t keep me like this as your-”
“Actually,” said the Collector, “I can. I’ve done it before. I might do it again, depending on how you turn out. Speaking of which, it’s time for your first lesson.”
The woman was wearing a comfortable-looking outfit that was utterly and completely non-fetishized except for the black latex gloves she wore. That, and that malevolent smile. Her eyes sparkled as she attached a leash to Hatsu’s collar, and dragged him into what seemed to be a guest bedroom.
The bedroom had carpeted floors, plain eggshell white walls, and a bed. A television sat in a corner, and a few sparsely-decorated bookcases lined the walls. All in all, it was a pleasant little guestroom, complete with a small wardrobe - though Hatsu didn’t feel much like a guest.
“You’re a fast learner, Hatsu, which is good. Take a seat.”
Conveniently, Hatsu’s arms and legs were covered in contact points. The moment he sat down, the mistress was already strapping his arms and legs to the chair’s armrests and legs. Two straps on each arm, and three on each leg with one more around his stomach; Hatsu was properly stuck.
“All right, Hatsu. Are you listening to me?”
He nodded.
“Good. Not that it matters, I just wanted to see your face when I explain things to you. You’re going to be my rubber slave, and I’m going to control every little aspect of your life. For the next… well, for as long as I want, I’m going to immerse you in overwhelming stimuli, stuff you full of toys, and fill you with a cocktail of drugs to make you very susceptible to my natural charms.”
Hatsu’s lower lip quivered again as she started laying out equipment on the table. She planted a pair of earplugs into his ear canals, followed by a flexible rubber cup that entirely covered each of his ears entirely. Her voice kicked in with crystal clarity.
“The moment we start the program - don’t get too excited, it hasn’t started yet - your ears are going to fill with long-wave binaural audio. Subliminal messages to suppress your silly “free will” will underlay alongside a main course of licking, kissing, and moaning. It’ll feel as though my tongue will be tickling and teasing your sensitive ears at every second. The cups will make sure you won’t miss a word.”
“D-doesn’t sound like there’s much talking,” Hatsu said.
“You’d be right - but slightly wrong. I’ve been compiling an artificial voice profile for you, and I think I’ve got it just about right. Once your will starts to crack, I’m going to introduce voice clips of your own voice explaining to you how very much you love me as your mistress, how glad you are of your kidnapping, how very much you love rubber and submission. The usual stuff. And, if you’re good, I’ll even let you say those words back to me. Just to make sure you mean it.”
Hatsu blushed. He couldn’t tell her, but he’d happily admit how incredibly aroused he was at his situation. Squirming in his seat, he gripped the armrests tightly as she showed him his next item.
“This hood’s opening at the front will let your mouth, nose, and eyes through - but don’t get too excited. It’s only one of two. It’s mostly to make sure you can’t try and get my voice out of your head.”
The Collector slipped it on, mating it underneath the collar, and showed him an inflatable bulb with a few slim tubes going through it.
“F-for me?”
She nodded. “For you. This inflatable gag will make sure you won’t waste any energy trying to speak. Tomorrow, I think, we can start training that sweet mouth of yours. But not today.”
Hatsu shook his head. “I… I - this is insane.”
“It’s not,” she said with an exaggerated, pouty expression. “It’s just a hobby. Please, be a good little rubberslave for me?”
The Collector leaned in, stroked Hatsu’s face, and planted a firm kiss on his lips. He puckered reflexively, but the smell - the scent - the very fact of being near this goddess made him want to obey her.
“Many more kisses in your future, once you’re conditioned.”
Hatsu almost didn’t realize the bulb was passing into his mouth and inflating until it was too late. She buckled it behind his head. He huffed into the gag.
He’d never been gagged before. The feeling of something warm expanding between his lips made him feel so helpless and full. He gripped at the chair as she returned with another rubber garment, this one a mask that would cover his lower face leaving only his eyes revealed.
“This respirator is my own. You should feel honored, cutie. Nobody else has ever gotten to share my air before. The main difference is that this one will pump you full of aphrodisiac and nyocene gas.”
“Hmmmngh?” Hatsu tried to shake the mask off, to no avail.
“By the end of the day, you’ll be willing to do just about anything I tell you. Now, obviously, this will just be the first day. It’ll take days, weeks, even months of training before your will is properly broken down.”
“Mmmh! Mmhmmm!” Hatsu shook his head left and right, then his entire body. The chair was bolted to the floor, and his arms were strapped to the chair. And, deep down, he loved it, despite his protestations.
“Last thing, of course, is the headset. It’s not really VR, but we’ll see how you take to the sensorium goggles first. Maybe you’ll graduate to slave training faster than the others. Maybe you’ll have to stick as my little utterly encased, totally controlled rubber object for a while. I’m sure you’d like to get on with servicing me as fast as possible, so I do hope you’re a quick study.”
The goggles slipped over his eyes, trapping him in complete darkness and totally sealing his flesh from the outside world. Layered, controlled, bound, and gagged, Hatsu could only see what the Collector projected to him.
“I told you, I have a collection.”
Hatsu saw that he wasn’t the first, and might not be the last slave to join her menagerie. Images flooded his mind, projected from all across his captress’s home. A woman grunted, squirming under a supremely thick vacbed, crushingly tight layers keeping her almost completely still save for the occasional twitch or arching of her back.
Two men strapped to X-Frames grunted in the living room. Toys inside their rears pulsed with thrumming vibrations; rigs milked them with every moment of orgiastic release.
And of course, he saw himself. Bound, gagged, encased, and deep down, loving it. He jiggled, an adorable little trap who had himself been trapped by the Collector. His erection was so immense that it nearly hurt. He wanted, needed to be touched, and to service his mistress.
“Welcome to my collection, slave.”
Hatsu’s mistress unzipped the suit. Gas filled his lungs. Binaural audio flooded his ears. He felt the warm hands of his owner gliding over his manhood as he arched his back in controlled bliss.