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Part 1: Rubber-Made (From Free Man to Rubber Slave)

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Next patient!
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My voice echoed through the long and dark hallways of my clinic, bouncing coldly off the empty black walls. Small though it is, I lead a very successful and exclusive practice, one that deals with a bit of a niche you might say. Body modification has become quite popular, various physical transformations were widely accessible and in this particular facility – I cater to the most extreme of specialties, one that plunges the depths of the physical, mental and spiritual core of our patients.
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My assistant, a stunning and impeccably dressed Southern Bell of a woman, lead him into the exam room. He was the second patient of the afternoon – our very favorite. We’re always well warmed up by this time of day and I just knew our patients were able to somehow sense this.
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Excited though he was, he trembled nervously within the flimsy paper down he was forced into. The gown itself is essentially useless, but I’ve come to enjoy the sense of vulnerability it immediately provokes in the wearer. I’m convinced that it begins the long process of stripping them down,  setting the new dynamic and preparing them for the extreme psychological nakedness I will soon be enforcing.
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He took a seat delicately on the exam table, eyes glued to the floor, hands folded neatly on his lap, quivering lips remaining silent – he waited patiently for my introduction.
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“I am Doctor Rage, and you already know the rules of this office; you will not speak unless spoken to you and you will answer in complete sentences only. Do not elaborate unless requested to and do not interrupt me,” I hissed.
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“Yes Dr.” He answered immediately and respectfully.
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His reflexive response was charming, usually their tone at this stage is much more robotic or coaxed; more unsure. “Now, my sweet, tell me why you’re here. What do you hope I can do for you?”
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“I’m tired of being a free man,” he blurted out, his declaration was MUCH more abrupt and direct then his demeanor would suggest. “I want to be a slave – a genderless rubber slave.”
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I nodded slowly in agreement, “You don’t exactly look like a free man to me, my dear. Clearly you are better suited to a different life. Now……. ask me to help you.”
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He slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine, whispering very genuinely the only words I wanted to hear.  “Please make me a rubber slave, doctor!
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             *****
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Not a moment passed after his request before my assistant roughly secured him to the exam table, lashing thick belts of rubber across his chest and torso. His body stiffened against the cold leather padding as his legs were stretched and bent out forcefully into the metal stirrups. His hips opened wide, exposing his unsheathed erection. His entire body seemed to flush a deep shameful red, perhaps he was’t expecting such an abrupt removal of his remaining dignity. He tried to be polite, taking in deep meditative breaths, but all efforts to conceal his raging excitement were fruitless.
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“Not every man can be a slave, especially one as highly regarded as a rubber slave. You will need to be meticulously inspected to ensure your worth and suitability.”
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I placed my clipboard down and slowly inched towards him, savoring the obvious apprehensive yet excitable expression. “Prep him for the exam!!”
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My assistant ripped away the paper gown from underneath his bonds, sending tidal wave of goosebumps to race across him. His vulnerable body shivered under the harsh overhead lights as we begun to poke and prod every inch. Though he made no effort to resist, he arched uncomfortably as we measured, pumped, extended and pinched our way through the process. I recorded his results, pleasantly surprised by this higher than average physical tolerance and natural responsiveness – he was indeed physically matched for his request.
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A long string of thin but sturdy clamps were affixed to his nipples, forcing them to stand out under the unflinching latex suit he’d soon be forced to wear. I gave a few sharp flicks to each one, raising them up painfully but beautifully in contrast to his crimson skin.
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Next would come a plug; my assistant was already seated between his legs, gloved fingers pushed inside his tight virginal orifice, measuring, stretching and deciding how large an item should invade him. ‘Lets go with 3 inches’, she said turning to me with an evil grin.
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“Ambitious, but I agree”, I laughed as I moved to grab something suitable.
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My toy cabinet was a nearly infinite universe of penetrative instruments, steel, rubber, glass, wood – all purposeful, with various intentions and provocative sensations.
I sought out the most invasive and textural plug that his body would accommodate, settling on a cold heavy steel ribbed fitting with no external base; this would have to be held deeply inside, consciously requiring him to clench and strengthen his delicate muscles so as not to let it slip out. 
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Despite his enthusiasm to transform, he was obviously unsettled by the sight of my choice. I can’t say I blame him, this object is meant to intimidate.
With a sharp but reassuring tone, I reminded him that this was not an optional step, every bit of preparation in this long processes is very purposeful…
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He nodded quickly, closing his eyes tightly and bracing as I begun to slide and push the plug inside his body. To be quite honest, it was very obvious that he enjoyed the overwhelming violation, blushing deeper red and straining desperately to regain his composure. Within moments, I saw the last inch of gleaming metal slip inside of him, giving no trace of the ongoing penetration he would have to acclimate to. There was also a very obvious shock in the weight he now had to lift – unceasingly – it seemed to focus his attention entirely.
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With his ass properly stretched and fitted, I moved to grab the next probe. Gazing at him a bit sadistically as I explained that all of his orifices would need to be plugged.
I was certain he didn’t understand my meaning until I held the flexible urethral tube in front of his face. You could almost reach out and touch the lingering sense of anticipation that hung oppressively in the air.
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There was no resistance at all as I slid it into the tight little opening, expanding him to a new brand of invasion. “I bet the anal plug wasn’t so bad now – is it?”, I mocked, closing the ring of the urethral plug around him. Fortunately for you, this plug you don’t have to hold in yourself – in fact, it will need a key to be removed, but we’ll get to that fact later. It was hard for him to meet our gazes at this point, he felt so filled and so used, yet so perfectly in his element. The mental struggle to reconcile these extremes must have been impossible.
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Next will come your attire my dear, step off the table – we will need to prepare your skin for the latex and fit you for your collar and cuffs.
Perhaps then we can chat about about who will be holding the keys to your plugs and garments.
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To be continued….

1 thought on “Part 1: Rubber-Made (From Free Man to Rubber Slave)

  1. Dear Mistress, This scene is so hot!!! Mick   From: Domina Victoria Rage To: bhs6560@yahoo.com Sent: Sunday, April 26, 2015 5:00 PM Subject: [New post] Part 1: Rubber-Made (From Free Man to Rubber Slave) #yiv8387855514 a:hover {color:red;}#yiv8387855514 a {text-decoration:none;color:#0088cc;}#yiv8387855514 a.yiv8387855514primaryactionlink:link, #yiv8387855514 a.yiv8387855514primaryactionlink:visited {background-color:#2585B2;color:#fff;}#yiv8387855514 a.yiv8387855514primaryactionlink:hover, #yiv8387855514 a.yiv8387855514primaryactionlink:active {background-color:#11729E;color:#fff;}#yiv8387855514 WordPress.com | Domina Victoria Rage posted: “Next patient!My voice echoed through the long and dark hallways of my clinic, bouncing coldly off the empty black walls. Small though it is, I lead a very successful and exclusive practice, one that deals with a bit of a niche you might say. B” | |

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