Rubber island | Gerda's story | free bondage stories

"One more thing. Some of you know the story of Slave Eva, who is sitting amongst you, but for the benefit of the new slaves I will tell you her story. She was brought to the island first a few years ago, a spoilt wilful girl, a victim of her own generation. Her parents had been killed in a plane crash, and at 21 she was on dope and a near alcoholic. She was very attractive and a convenient bed partner for the in crowd in London. Here, for the first time in her life she was taught discipline and made to realise that she could be a valuable member of society. Eventually she passed her top level slave exams, and she was introduced to her Master to be, a charming Frenchman who was the president of a large electronics firm. Love blossomed between them, and Eva returned to the outside world to marry her Master. For 2 years everything was fine, then disaster stuck on night in Paris when he was killed in a car accident."

Miss Dodds regarded the girl with compassionate eyes.

"Eva inherited her Master's fortune. She was a rich girl, the world at her feet, but after six months she contacted Le Compte and asked to return here. Only on the island could she feel safe and secure in her rubber and bondage. I am happy to inform you that her request has been granted to be trained as a Mistress, and she will become a member of the staff here."

There was a low murmurings from the other girls. Miss Dodds raised her hand.

"For the next few months Eva will remain a top level slave, and her training will be very strict. However, she will gradually take over the role of Training Mistress. For you new slaves, she will be an invaluable friend, because she will have suffered everything you will suffer, and although she will be taught that a Mistress will be ruthless, she will, I trust, still retain the element of compassion. That is all."

There was little sense of time on the island. Calendars, TV and radio were forbidden to the slaves and serving maids, but on a Sunday morning normal training was suspended and a church service held in the small chapel in the grounds of the centre. Once a month a fat, jovial priest arried from the mainland to hold communion. Gerda wondered how he could tolerate the principles of the island, and it was a long time before she understood his philosophy.

The doctor, too, seemed a mysterious figure. In his early sixties, he was invariably cheerful and kind, keeping a close watch over the health of the slaves, always present whenever a slave was suffering an unusually long or severe punishment. On the few occasions when Gerda found herself alone with him, she tried to enlist his sympathy or find out more of his background, but he turned out to be an expert at evading questions and changing the subject. The two nurses and the orderly who comprised the staff of the small clinic had there own quarters and were not allowed into the main house unless accompanying the doctor. Although dressed in the inevitable latex when on duty, they were not required to wear masks or gloves. Yvette, who had been in the clinic for a few days the previous winter with the 'flu, summed up the situation one day when Gerda had wondered aloud about how Guy managed to keep the island's secret.

"Not so difficult, when you work it out," said Yvette. "The nurses and orderly are genuine and they like, or at least tolerate, their rubber costumes. They get paid three time what they would earn anywhere else, and duties are usually light. They are carefully checked out before ever setting foot on the island, and lets face it, it's a heavenly Mediterranean island, so why should they spoil the best paid jobs they'll ever get ? It's the same with all the other staff."

"But Guy's salary bill must be huge !"

"Sure ! But he charges 50,000 dollars to train a slave. Even more if he can't find his own slave and comes to select one from the island 'off the shelf' so to speak. Besides, he's filthy rich, although I'm sure he won't run the joint at a loss."

"But surely someone - one of the boat crew maybe, when he's had too much to drink - might talk ?"

"So what ? Nobody's complaining to the police ! Oh sure, the first few days when a would-be slave arrives she's mad as hell, but she is closely guarded through her initial period. And honestly, if you could walk out now as a free woman, would you actually go to the police and lay an official complaint ? That you were kidnapped ? You came here of your own free will, remember, even if it wasn't what you expected !"

"But it's never mis-fired ? There must have been some girls who just wouldn't take to it !"

Yvette smiled through her mask. "Yes, I think there has been three or four over the years since Guy started. I gather they were flown to distant lands, with a huge check in their pockets. Don't forget, slaves are never accepted who have family, close relatives or any other ties. So if they really wanted to get revenge, they would have to return that big fat cheque first. So far no one has !"

Gerda had realised early the importance of obedience and discipline. For the slightest infraction or carelessness the dreaded demerits were awarded and recorded, and at the end of each week they were added up by Miss Dodds and worked off by a suitable punishment.

Gerda's week ended at noon on Friday, although often she had no idea of the day. She feared the order to report, when Maria would inform her of the daily routine, for however careful she tried to be, it was impossible to have a clean sheet at the end of seven days.

This particular Friday she reported with added dread. It had been a bad week for her, and she had incurred the highest number of Demerits since she had arrived on the Island. On top of everything, she had answered back to an instructor and told him to wait until she was ready.

Miss Dodds ordered her to sit while she studied the Demerit chart. Gerda gasped quietly and felt the rod sink further in, wishing it did not give her such a sexual thrill.

"Now slave Gerda, it appears you have been very slack this week. It won't do, my girl, you are far too careless."

"I don't mean to Madam," Gerda replied miserably, "There's so many things to remember..."

"Of course there are, that's all part of your training, makes your mind concentrate. Well, I think we'll put you into a shame costume for twenty four hours, that'll make you more aware of your responsibilities as a slave." She wrote rapidly on a pad. "Report to the preparation room and give the instructor on duty these instructions."

Gerda walked down the corridor, wondering what was in store for her. What was she to wear for twenty four hours ? It surely couldn't be that bad, but she had incurred lots of demerits ....

Before she knocked on the door of the preparation room she had a quick look at the order sheet, but it meant nothing to her. LP 14, SM 22, SB 7, 47 ( heavy ). She knocked and entered.

The instructor on duty was her favourite, number 4. She found that he had a rich sense of humour and did not have the sadistic streak most of the others revelled in. He took the sheet and hmmmed through his leather helmet.

"Been a bad girl, eh ? You know what this is ?"

"No, just that it's a shame costume, whatever that is. It seems too good to be true, I was expecting an extra whipping at least."

The instructor was opening one of the large cupboards which lined the walls of the room. "This is not an easy punishment, slave Gerda. Go into the changing room and strip off everything, then I'll give you a suit to put on. Just leave your mask on."

Mystified, Gerda did as she was instructed. She stood behind the door as the instructor opened it slightly and deposited a suit on the floor. It was so heavy she could hardly lift it. It was made of triple thick white rubber sheeting, with attached feet and heavy gloves. She climbed into it and zipped it up to the high neck. The rustling noise appalled her, every movement a symphony of crackling rubber. The gloves were so thick she could barely move her fingers in them.

She came back into the main room. The instructor indicated a pair of knee high white rubber boots with a high heel, large enough to accept her thickly rubbered feet.

"Wow," she said' "It's quite comfortable, although heavy as lead ! And the noise it makes, I certainly couldn't be a burglar tonight !"

"That's part of the idea, my good slave 1 It's called a shame suit because everyone can hear you coming, that you are in a punishment suit. Now I'm afraid I have to put the steel helmet on you. It means you won't be able to eat, drink or talk for twenty four hours. Take the gag into your mouth slowly, it is large but of soft rubber, so it doesn't hurt. The mask is very tight, but it's lined with sponge rubber, so it won't harm your skin. But don't try to turn your head !"

He brought across a shining steel helmet, hinged, and fitted it around her head. He closed it across her face until the large rubber gag was forced into her mouth, then gradually tightened the screws from the top of the head down to the neck, sealing it firmly over the high collar of the suit.

The back was shaped to her head, and the front was slightly convex to give room for her nose. There were several tiny breathing holes and two more through which she could see a very limited area dead ahead. She heard a faint click as a padlock was locked to the back of the iron neck.

She caught sight of herself in the long mirror. The heavy white rubber suit bulged bulkily around her figure, surmounted by a shining featureless steel ball. Every movement resulted in a heavy crackling of rubber. She blinked back the tears.

"There you are," said the instructor, not unkindly. "Report back here in twenty four hours to be unlocked. Pleasant dreams !"

She was about to leave to seek the security of her quarters when the instructor glanced again at the order sheet. "By the way slave Gerda, you are only allowed to spend ten of those hours in your quarters, and your serving maid has been instructed accordingly. You have zips in the suit for toilet requirements and your daily enema, and you can use most of those ten hours to get a good nights' sleep, but otherwise you must walk around or stay in the slaves' rest rooms. Unfortunately no food or drink ! Be seeing you !"

Gerda rustled down the corridor, her incredibly thick suit making such a noise she was ashamed, the heat inside rapidly building, and afraid to face the laughter in the slaves' rest room. Already she was unpleasantly warm and could feel rivulets of perspiration tickle down her back. She walked out into the grounds but found the hot sun made things worse.

Her tight latex slave mask was now so wet inside the steel helmet that she could hardly see. Miserably, she came to the rest room and opened the door. She heard the room go quiet as she crackled inside, every movement a reminder of her shame. She sank into a large armchair with relief. At least now she did not have to advertise her punishment.

But whenever an instructor entered, she was obliged to stand up, her suit loudly calling attention to herself. Her iron clad head and firm gag could offer no excuse.

Tenderly, later that evening, Maria put her Mistress to bed, carefully laying the steel helmeted head on the rubber covered pillow.

What she did not realise was that now, after nearly 12 hours, Gerda was being turned on by her punishment. Apart from feeling hungry and thirsty, she was delighting in the heavy rubber macking against her wet skin, even finding a certain thrill in the total enclosure of the steel helmet, with the awful, but sexually exciting knowledge that it was padlocked into place and she was utterly helpless in her heavy rubber and steel.

When Maria had left, and darkness ha closed her eyes through the tiny holes in the steel mask, Gerda lay contentedly on her back, her body wet and warmly cocooned inside her rubber suit.

So I'm a slave, a slave being trained to serve my so-called Master Guy, the little shit. How can I put up with this barbaric treatment ? I'm whipped, buggered constantly by huge plastic rods, given enema's, have my breasts tortured, and been almost suffocated to death. I have to wear the most ghastly costumes of cold clinging rubber, be permanently masked, and have no freedom whatsoever. So why am I lying here in my shame suit, loving every sexy minute of it, instead of plotting ways of escaping from this monstrous island ?"

She liked the taste of the rubber wedge in her mouth. She thought of Guy in his tight leather suit. She moved her legs and listened with delight to the ominous crackle of rubber. Then she slept.