F/m , latex, rubber, interrogation, bondage, breathplay, smothering, be careful.

Short story, inspired by talks with @Fimotro.

Agent Frixos panted and took a step back. He used his left hand to pad his tight, high-tech spy-suit - nothing. He continued, checking and re-checking every little pouch and pack of his tactical webbing - empty. He found a pin for a stun grenade he’d thrown earlier and an empty cartridge for his dart gun. He took another step back.

There were still six minions of the mysterious organization bearing down on him. Faceless, limber, athletic - and extremely thick, all of their feminine forms bulged with visible strength.

Outnumbered and surrounded in a corner of a villain’s lair, Frixios couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, do you want to call this one… a tie?”

They responded by pouncing on him, piling on him, and swiftly neutralizing the agent. The feeling of rubber against high-tech polymer made Frixios blush in his last moments of consciousness. He could smell them, feel them, he felt like he was practically coupling and merging with them in a squirming pile. They pinned him down, with firm hands and legs holding his arms and legs tight. He reflexively tried to flail. The faceless mooks countered, smothering the poor agent between thick and curvaceous thighs. It was a heavenly grip. He felt his entire face completely subsumed in divine rubbery goodness. They pushed his head deep into their groin and squeezed, and soon he felt his eyes rolling back as he passed out.

When he woke, he was leaning forwards in some small closet. Frixos raised his head, trying to figure out where he was. The minions, all of them masked and suited, were gone save for one left to guard him.

“He’s waking up,’ she said, speaking into her wrist intercom. “Orders?”

Coded beeps and boops emitted from the radio. “Understood. I’ll prepare him for transport.” She turned her head and a masked visage stared deep into the captured agent’s eyes. “Glad you’re awake for this,’ she said. “I like it when they squirm.”

“Good,” Frixios said, leaning back in the chair. He saw that he was in some kind of laundry room. “Looks like we’re alone. So now that we have some time to ourselves, I’d like to convince you to give up your ways and join me on mmmmmyymmmgnggh.”

His words were cut off by a pair of womens’ panties shoved into his mouth.

“Enough talking, Agent. We’ll save that for later.”

Then came the tape. Beige, sticky, tight, she slapped a fat strip over his lips. A moment later, the minion shrugged. “Might as well use the rest.” Frixios struggled, tugging his arms against the chair but it only seemed to entice her more. She held his hands in her head, standing behind him. The guard tugged his head TIGHT against her muscled chest, holding him still as she kept winding the tape around his lips, mummifying and layering that gag in to ensure there’d be no back-talk.

Then came a bandana over his mouth and nose. That was just about needless, and the minion knew it. But she was having fun now, watching his eyes get wide with each new item she added. A swim-cap covered his hair. A collar around his neck.

A harness panel-gag locked over it all, leaving his cloth-covered nose barely free when she started to wrap the whole thing in silver tape. Frixios tapped his feet, groaning and struggling… but there’d be no passing out this time. He had just enough space to keep breathing in hot air, and just enough willpower to keep thrashing as she finished her job. The guard ran fingers over his nice, smooth head for a bit - taped up completely, layered and packed. Low on air and completely disoriented, Frixios - despite his agent training - really had no hope to escape, even when she untied his arms. It was only for a moment, in any event, as she started to wrap shiny black restraint-tape all over his form. It was wide, specially designed for keeping prisoners packed up quickly and efficiently. There’d be more fun very soon, so there was no need to be too severe with the wrapping.

…which is why she still took the time to lock several heavy straps around his mummified form. Frixios wriggled like a worm when she picked him up, lifting the agent like a newlywed bride and carrying him deeper into the lair.

=====

The room was cloaked in an air of tension. The only sound breaking the silence was the distant hum of machinery; it started and stopped at regular intervals. Then, a squeak.

A single, dimly lit table stood at the center of the room, its cold metallic surface adorned with handcuffs on top and shackles below. Two individuals sat at opposite ends, locked in a psychological battle of wills. On the one end, a thick chair to which Agent Frixios was heavily restrained. He had been captured, processed, and was now set to be interrogated. Suited up in a black catsuit, hands mittened, wrists shackled to the table and legs weighed down… he kept up the appearance of someone very smug. They could ask him questions all day. They knew he wouldn’t break.

On the other, guard captain Cardinal Rain. She leaned back, looking comfortable despite the cloyingly tight bodysuit that covered her form. Black and red and white, the outfit of a nun corrupted into something stranger, sexier, kinkier. Something that showed off her eyes and grin and body. Frixios wondered what it would be like to serve her - her minions seemed extremely eager to please her.

 The atmosphere grew thick with anticipation as Cardinal Rain tried to peel back the layers of deception, looking for vulnerability in the captive’s guarded demeanor. In this room of restraint, the pursuit of “justice” was relentless. The truth was trapped within the walls, waiting to be unveiled – but Rain was mostly uninterested in hearing any real answers.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked. Frixios tried to be smug. “It’s a bit musty in here. Why don’t we go outside? We can get some fresh air together and watch the moonlight.”

Rain stood up, striding over to him and grabbing his head in her hands. “Oh? You don’t like it down here, do you?” The captured agent froze up. “What’s wrong… do you not enjoy Mistress’s air?”

He tried to break free of her grip, but she was strong and had leverage. Clutching his head with two hands, he started to shake ‘no,’ but it was no use.

“Fine… you don’t have to breathe it,” she said.

Frixios took a deep breath when he saw her pull out a thin rubber sheet from beneath the desk. Something deep within his loins stirred, and he clenched up with a strange anticipation. He shouted a no but it became muffled as the interrogator wrapped the rubber sheet over his face.

He moaned. For hours, he’d been keeping it in, trying not to let anyone know or see how he was feeling. But now, for a brief moment, he could metaphorically exhale - even if literally he couldn’t breathe one bit. He hoped that the rubber around his face would block any chance of anyone seeing just how erotically charged he’d become.

The agent was hard. He was needy. God, the thick rubber of her hands on his face had sent shivers down his spine. The intense wrapping as he’d been captured made him sweat long  before the rubber. He’d nearly started leaking when they locked his hands in those thick heavy bondage mitts, chaining them to the table and matching his suit.

Cardinal wound it around his head a second time. He started sucking in the latex - tasting it, feeling it. The only odor was his own breath and the pungent aroma of rubber lining his face and nostrils as she pulled tight, then tighter. He could envision his face deforming under its thick embrace. God, he wanted to see what he looked like, wanted to know how tight it was. He could imagine it hugging every curve of his face, making out his facial features as it pulled so TIGHT.

He couldn’t breathe. His head was starting to get light and his lungs tingled from a lack of oxygen. And yet, the fires of his need was nothing compared to the immense pleasure as the interrogator stroked his face. He felt his hard cock jamming and rubbing against the metal table, through his suit, as he struggled. The chains were rattling so hard he thought they’d break - but of course, there was no hope for him. He was in a deep pit of erotic torment, rubbing, grinding, squirming… and being touched.

She ran a finger around his sealed lips as he went huff huff huff trying and failing to get even a modicum of oxygen into his lungs. It was sweeter than a kiss, more intimate than a week together. This little rubber-encased slut was her thing, and he knew it, and she knew it. The agent was about to pass out when he started to gurgle, trying to speak but only managing to gum through the tight rubber.

At long last, she released him, but the captured spy was speechless. He slowly breathed life back into his body, but she knew that he was already breaking.

Rain made a malevolent laugh, grabbing his chin. She forced him to look up into her eyes again ass he picked up a blindfold and hood. He’d seen enough of her.

===

Days in the captivity of Cardinal Rain had changed him. “Agent Fucktoy,” “Agent F,” all kinds of denigrating nicknames were now much more appropriate for the little rubber-sealed slut. She knew he wasn’t going to talk, but it didn’t really matter. Even once he started to break down, Rain didn’t really have any interest in what he had to say. He could have said everything about his handlers, his contacts, his methods - the spy could have blown open the whole agency, but she wasn’t interested. No, he was just an object now. A captured soldier to be used and abused. He was meat to be enjoyed and used.

She was exercising today, having moved Prisoner F to her quarters for playtime. He was locked and sweating in a delectably tight latex sleepsack. She had zipped it up while stretching, then placed him facedown on a yoga mat. On occasion shed walk on top of his back, or use the warm rubber pillow as an item to help her stretch out her spine. He’d arch and groan, squirming and wriggling with all the luscious looks of a pathetic little toy.

Rain pulled out her favorite item, the black sheet, as she ran fingers over his faceless black hood. He groaned something, begging her to release him or not to do it. Obviously she knew he was lying. He wanted it. Needed it. She pushed his foot down with her head while stretching the rubber against his face - and giving herself a nice workout while she was at it. Pulling his head back, she even had a servant take a quick photo - she wanted to save the look of his airless struggles.

Prisoner F was given a bit of air as she released him, and he tried curling up. No luck. She tugged his head between her thighs and hugged him tight. Sitting on her rear, letting him nose against her - it just felt incredible. She decided to do more with it - it’d been a few days since Rain had used his face as a nice rubber seat.

Squishing him firmly between her thighs, Prisoner F was tormented and treated to the most intense, tight, crushing sensation as she rubbed her womanhood against his masked face. He realized he was twitching with erotically charged delight. He sucked in what little air he could as she started to grind against his face. Prisoner F was so needy. It got worse knowing she wasn’t going to do anything about it - aside from the occasional moment where she’d mash and grind against his manhood with her feet, just to torment him further.

===

Agent F was firmly now “Fucktoy.” It had been weeks since HQ had bothered looking for him. Now he was considered lost; permanently enslaved by Cardinal Rain and the Directors of her organization.

“F” had been changed in mind and body. It now recognized its role as just an object; just an entity for pleasure, gratification, degradation, and use. At all times, it wore a feminized black rubber suit, waist by a tightly packing corset. Its cock was flat-packed in a brutal flat cage, sealed up and locked and neglected. But most lewd of all was its face.

Cardinal Rain stared at her favorite object. It knelt in its room, awaiting orders. She leaned in the doorway, speaking to it.

“You know, there was a time a few weeks ago when you

A pepper-pot hood with tiny openings gave it the look of a faceless, eyeless black rubber slut. Its mouth was an artificial rubber pussy-face. It was a creature of lust, of pleasure, a rubber gimp with only openings to be violated. And worst of all, it wanted it. Needed it. It craved having its body used and humped and filled, giving it enough anal stimulation to feel something akin to a pseudo-orgasm. Not that anyone seemed interested in F enough pleasure to do so, in any event. Its mouth was the most valuable thing about it, and all of the male staff were having lots of fun filling it, using it, humping it, and squeezing the little slut.

Its favorite moment were when it got to completely deep-throat its captors, the Directors absolutely packing F’s mouth all the way. It spent plenty of time practicing and training its mouth and throat to receive bigger, larger, more intense loads, to be completely, COMPLETELY filled up. Nothing was higher, and its body had been very well-trained to obey and be used.

“F” was called by one of its captors, and it stood from its neutral meditative sitting pose. A handsome director and a pair of his female guards were calling to it. They had use of it, a need for F’s body. Beneath the hood, its glassy eyes started to shine with excitement.

There was no question in its mind about what had happened. It had ‘won,’ earned a perfect victory as an endlessly used rubber fucktoy. F approached the door, bowed its head, and approached its users. Already, it could feel its body growing warmer as all those thick, firm hands forced it to its knees…