Rubber Gerda | free bondage stories

Prologue

On a dark November night, a weary motorist driving the long straight Strada del Sole, the magnificent highway running up the entire west coast of Italy, saw in his headlights the unusual sight of a tall blonde girl standing by the edge of the road. Unusual, because it was one in the morning, and this long lonely road stretched for at least fifteen kilometres before skirting the next town. Furthermore, she had not even signalled to him to stop.

The driver, an Englishman who was the representative of a British publishing house in Italy, slowed rapidly and pulled into the emergency lane at the side. He kept the car in gear, ready to accelerate if it was a baited trap for the unwary motorist.

But she appeared to be alone, and walked slowly towards the car. He noticed she had on high stiletto heeled black boots, and a long shiny green rubber raincoat, buttoned to the neck. She opened the passenger door, and with a heavy rustle subsided onto the seat. As he drove on, he spoke to her in Italian, but she did not answer. He tried English and then his limited French, but she remained silent, staring ahead as if in another world.

It was still two hours drive to Genoa, and he had an appointment with a leading Italian publisher at 10 a.m. He was tired an concentrated on his driving.

Suddenly she laughed ( so he told me later ) and spoke in perfect English " What a gentleman you are ! If you had tried to rape me you would have found I am totally nude under this rubber coat, except for my leather thigh boots. I suppose it was my masters idea of a joke, or perhaps it has deeper meaning. I can't seem to concentrate, I've been walking for hours.

"But why ? Have you no money at all, couldn't you have thumbed a ride ? Aren't you cold ?"

"No" she said distantly, " Rubber is warm if you keep moving. I was ordered to keep walking till midnight. From noon till midnight without spending any money or talking to a soul. About an hour ago I reckoned it was midnight and hitched a lift. He was a nasty little man with a stupid little mind. Finally when he realised I wasn't going to play ball he dropped me at that lonely spot."

The bewildered rep had been trying to follow the sequence of her story." But what are you doing here, in the middle of nowhere, obeying some lunatic orders ?"

For the fist time the tired blue eyes turned toward him, and in the reflected glow of the headlights he realised with a shock that she was stunningly beautiful. "I've been sent back into the world for 3 months," she said simply, "Shall I tell you some of my story ?"

Refreshed by several swigs from the brandy flask he always carried in his briefcase, she commenced to tell an incredible tale in a low, factual voice. At first he thought she must be on pot or hallucinating on something stronger, but the details were too coherent to be a casual fantasy.

They entered Genoa a few minutes after 3 a.m. Still confused by this strange girl, he drove to the small hotel where he always stayed during his monthly visits from his base in Rome. It was off-season and there were plenty of vacant rooms. He picked up his own reservation and the sleepy night porter gave him a tired wink and they key to the room next to his.

She was so exhausted she sat on his suitcase as the elevator crawled upwards. He gave her the key to her room, to show there was no funny business. "I must go out fairly early in the morning. You promise you'll wait till I get back ? Before noon."

Perfect teeth showed in a brief smile. "I'm in no hurry ! But lets make it dinner instead of lunch, I'm going to sleep for at least twelve hours !"

She kept her word. At seven the next evening she knocked on his door. " I feel much better - I've taken a bath, and I'm ravenous. Will you take me to dinner ?"

She wore the high buttoned coat like a Dior creation, teetering gracefully on the high heeled boots. Although his loose schedule called for him to drive on to Torino, his instinct for a story told him his time would not be wasted by remaining here an extra night.

This is Gerda's story, related to the Englishman during that long evening, and afterwards "ghosted" in dramatic form by me. For obvious reasons, some names and places are changed.

The applause continued as Gerda made her final exit from the long cat walk, a narrow stage surrounded by a dense celebrity loaded audience. Although she was physically exhausted, Gerda knew it had been a successful fashion show - with her experience she could almost smell it halfway through, either an aura of sympathy or antipathy exuding from the Beautiful People and the top buyers. She was doubly pleased because this year Madam Poiret had made her the 'star' of the ten models, and allocated the most exclusive of the designs to her. Her final appearance in a skin tight satin wedding dress, clinging wickedly to her tall slim figure, but demurely covered by a long waist length veil, had brought prolonged clapping a discreet cheers.

With utter relief, she allowed the dresser to unzip the form-fitting white gown. The cheerful old lady, who had worked in the fashion business for many years, recognised the signs.

"For better or worse my dear, that's it !" You were splendid, and Madame Poirot should give you a big fat bonus but she won't, of course. Now you take a shower and relax, and think of that lovely long holiday you're going on tomorrow. Somewhere in Spain isn't it ?"

Gerda smiled gratefully at her dresser, but her mind was elsewhere, and she did not correct the woman. Le Compte Guy de Rhislain, Her lovely Guy, owned a house on a small island not far from Elba, off the Italian coast. After two arduous years of work, without a break of any sort, she had gladly accepted his invitation. Although she had known him only two months, there had been an immediate physical attraction between them, and later, after the first magical bloom of sex, she had realised with some astonishment that for the first time in her life she was in love.

Dressed now, she peered out the window and saw the drab Parisian street gleaming watly in the rain. How wonderful, she thought joyfully, two whole weeks lazing in the sun, swimming and water-skiing, eating and drinking what and when I want - thank goodness I never have a weight problem - instead of those eternal sandwiches between sittings and shows. When Guy takes me out to Fouquets or some lovely restaurant I am usually too tired to eat.

She turned to find her dresser holding out the bright red mackintosh Guy had insisted upon buying her last week. " You can never park your car near the salon," he had joked, "And you turn up sometimes looking like a wet spaniel. It may not be mink, but it's far more useful and you'll look gorgeous in it !"

She eyed the gleaming rubber coat with faint distaste. It was thick and heavy and made a load rusting noise whenever she moved in it. But she had to admit it did keep off the rain, however heavy. She slipped into it, buttoned it up tightly to the neck and pulled up the rubber hood over her head.

Sorrowfully she said goodbye to her faithful dresser, then made her rounds to thank Madame Poiret and take her farewells of the other models. She came out of the side door of the fashion house and looked for Guy's Mercedes. It was parked some distance along the road and she ran too it, feeling the rain patter on her coat, causing it to glisten in the fading daylight. He opened the door and took her case, kissing her lightly and for a moment running his hands over her gleaming shoulders.

The next day they flew to Rome, where Guy hired a Lancia Sports and they continued northwards to the island. Gerda had slept well and was already enjoying the peaceful feeling of relaxation which had overcome her. She turned her head and studied the man beside her, wondering what had attracted her to him. She reckoned he was in his late forties, the hair greying at the temples, the mouth generous but with a cruel twist to it whenever he smiled. His hands on the steering wheel were long and thick and strong, and a little frisson of excitement passed through her just remembering what they had done to her willing body last night.

"We are nearly there", he announced. "Then we have a half an hour journey by boat, which I am afraid is usually rough, especially at the end of Spring, the sea seems to resent Summer approaching !"

"I'm a good sailor", she smiled, "I was brought up on little boats!"

"Excellent ! But we must dress properly for the trip, otherwise we will get very wet. The boat is a converted drifter, very reliable, but the spray covers it when we are in mid-channel."

They arrived at the small port and were met by a smiling servant who was introduced to Gerda as Renato. The luggage was put aboard the twelve meter boat, then Guy helped her aboard and into the small charthouse.

"Here you are my darling. Climb into these clothes and you will be completely watertight !"

From a small cupboard he brought a chest high pair of green "totes", the smooth but strong rubber used in deep sea diving. "These will fit closely, so wear nothing underneath", he explained, "Then over it you will wear the jacket and hood, and these long gloves."

She took the bundle of clothing, feeling the smooth rubber and finding it curiously unattractive. "If you insist, but I won't look very glamorous !"

He smiled broadly. "You are so wrong ! Renato and I have a few things to do. We will leave you in the chart house to change."