Tuesday, January 25, 2005
My thanks to Ataraxia of http://www.rubberist.net for suggesting this.
I am most happy to be blogging here as well as the International Rubberist Association. At Sir's suggestion (sure...SUGGESTION) I will, for the time being, keep both blogs running with identical postings because the this BlogSpot Blog has a wider, non-membership, audience which make for interesting comments.
There was a comment within the 'All Rubber All the Time' thread on IAR about 24/7 versus 23/7 as a lifestyle choice.
I agree that 23/7 is as 'real' as 24/7 and I remind everyone that I am changing 'skin suits' as I call them, everyday. So, my suit that is removed when I bathe is not the one I put on afterwards...I put on a nice clean one that has had plenty of time to dry and has been siliconed internally as well.
I am also, in order to maintain the concept of all rubber all the time, bathing in a tub lined with a latex sheet. And, if you review the earlier description sof our protocol, you'll see that, since Jan 1, I have not come into contact with anything other than rubber, water, and some lotion. We've even moved to blow drying me instead of using a towel...that has been 'mostly' successful.
Also, recall that our protocol is designed to make it so that I never see myself without a mediating layer of latex between me and the world. I am not allowed to see when I am bathed (hooded) and I am not allowed to use a mirror when I wash my face, brush my teeth, etc.
This isn't perfect...my skin suit hoods have large eye openings and I DO see some of my skin around the eyes and mouth...but you get the picture. BTW, try brushing your teeth in a transparent latex hood for some REAL humiliation
With respect to the idea of this life locking me away, let me say that I have not felt any significant reduction in my outdoor lifestyle. It is not circumscribed in any noticeable way. The only unusual thing (at first) was that I was in the burqa which I had worn outside before over 'normal' rubber clothing. I used to just be out showing my face over rubber clothing and even boots and gloves. Now, I don't do that...not such a big difference after the first few times.
The first few times, there was a frisson of fear that someone would uncover me and see that i wsa hooded and gagged...I was never concerned about them seeing that I was dressed in a latex dress...I've worn those for years in public.
But now, I don't even think about being 'un-burqa'd'. No one dares to approach that close anyway and I've receved nothing but respect from officials and other people. remember, I've already flown twice in this modus.
So, thanks for the welcome and I think I will post this into my blog too.
Monday, January 24, 2005
Well, it had to happen sometime, I suppose.
Woke up yesterday morning with an irritating rash on my back under my latex suit. My back felt like I was suffering from what we in the south call 'prickly heat' and it was a bit red and somewhat dry and scaly looking. Oddly enough, the most dramatic redness followed the zipper line, with a bit of a spread out around it in a vertical stripe.
I went through my usual morning ablutions and paid more than usual attention to putting on lotion and making sure it was dry back there. After my usual bath, I was put back into a suit and I did not notice any more discomfort.
However, when I was getting ready for bed, maid told me the redness was still there. I discussed it with Sir when he called (he is out of town this week) and his instructions were to expose the area to air, leaving the back of the suit open and not wearing anything over it. To use a medicated lotion on it, and to not reseal it if the redness continued. As well, I am to remove all latex immediately if any other areas turn red.
So far, however, this morning, I am fine everywhere else and the redness is all but gone and there is no prickling sensation. But I have been padding around the house now for almost 48 hours with nothing on but a transparent enclosure suit that isn't zipped up in the back.
As I said in an earlier post, we've decided "in for a penney, in for a pound!" So I will not bail on this experiment unless I have to. Suit open down the back to let the skin rest seems a good compromise and I am hoping nothing more shows up as a rash. My face, my SECOND most sensitive skin area, seems in good shape. It looks fine and does not itch or burn. In fact, I hardly notice the thin latex on it anymore.
Chest, breast, stomach area is good. I pay special attenttion to my nether regions as this is the MOST sensitive area, but I'm not having problems there.
Legs and arms are fine and my hands and feet are comfortable. Again, I am almost unaware of the rubber on my hands now unless I concentrate on the lack of sensation, the distiancing of sensation when i touch things. It's good as long as I avoid the whole COOKING thing :)
So, this may have just been that we missed my back somehow, or that I'm reacting to the zipper or something.
Nonetheless, it's almost gone and I expect tomoorrow I will be once again fully enclosed as I should be.
Sir returns on Wed evening and I am to meet him at the airport. Once more into the burqa!
BTW, everyone reading this blog has been incredibly supportive and I am so happy to hear that I am inspiring a few others to step out in their latex. I am firmly convinced that, over time, our 'fetish' will become an accepted mode of clothing (well, maybe not the hoods and gags) and we have a good chance of bringing back a formality and style to dressing in public that has, sadly, been lacking for decades (Women should ALWAYS wear gloves in public, I am convinced...the way they did in the fifties...we can get back there, I know it!).
Viva La Gummi! (If you don't mind me butchering three languages simultaneously :) )
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Usually, I do not cook. Maid cooks...she cooks well and she cooks in rubber (and sometimes, I think, WITH rubber as a spice). But Sir is away on business and last night when it came time to cook some dinner maid was...uh...tied up with other matters.
I decided I would cook dinner for the two of us. I decided I would cook something we hadn't had in a while here in California...Chicken Fried Steak.
For those of you who do not know southwestern cuisine, I should explain that Chicken Fried Steak also goes by the name Wiener Schnitzel or Veal Cutlet. Except we do not use veal, we use aged beef cut in what are called cubed steaks. So it is thin, boneless steaks battered and fried in the manner one does Southern Fried Chicken.
Chicken Fried Steak (CFS) is a southern delicacy cooked in a skillet with a fair amount of hot oil, lots of flour, egg, milk, and a batter made up from biscuit mix. It is inherently a bit messy, but the final product, served with vegetables, is delicious, nutricious, and a total cardiac nightmare.
There is a protocol associated with it...for instance, the BEST batter cooks up LARGER than the steak it encases, leading to large chunks of fried bread like material which is delicious on its own. Sir even tells the story of getting his CFS one time as a child and discovering it had no meat inside. One flours the steak, then dips it in the egg/milk mix, then batters it, then fries it in an almost assembly line fashion.
This is all done by hand and if done well you will have battered fingers before you're finished. I did say it was messy, didn't I? No sanitation here, either...this is hands on cooking...so I thought rubber gloves would be a GOOD idea. Maid does this from time to time for us and she never has a problem.
Well last night I laid everything out carefully, mixed my egg and milk to a good gooey consistency, made sure I had fresh steaks, enough flour and then mixed up the batter...we use bisquick prepared mix and add salt, pepper, and paprika.
The first of the two steaks went swimmingly. I floured it well, then dipped that in the egg/milk mixture to lock the flour on and to give the batter something to cling to. Then I rubbed it around in the batter and made sure I had a LOT of batter on it. This is important.
Next, I used a fork to gently lay it in the skillet with the oil already heated. It immediately began to bubble and froth as it is supposed to.
Now the race begins. You have to get the next steak ready while the first one cooks. You have to do it fast so you put it in the skillet just as the first one is ready to be turned over...and you have to be careful because the oil is boiling hot.
I reached out for the second steak with my already messy rubbered left hand, picked it up, swung it over to the plate where my flour was waiting...and promptly dropped it from about two feet up directly into the flour!
did you know flour can explode when disturbed? White flour went everywhere! There was a puff, and I was covered from the crown of my hood to my black rubber toes in flour!
I sputterd and coughed a bit as I inhaled flour (no gas mask on unfortunately, but I was wearing a gag) and blinked flour out of my eyes. What to do?
First rule of cooking...if something happens, turn off the fire! So I started to move the skillet to a cool burner first. But my hands were dangerously slippery...and the steak was cooking fast.
Grab towel (can't get rubber gloved hands into oven mit) ... grab skillet handle ... thank god Sir got the big skillet with the long handle...then move skillet.
Then I washed my hands, and looked down at myself. I was an absolute rubber mess...flour everywhere and a few blobs of eggy batter as well had fallen off my fingers onto my dress...at an embarrasing place, I might add.
I washed my hands, finished carefully battering the second steak, but had to turn the first one over (still cooking in hot oil, if not getting any hotter), then finally got the second one into the skillet.
A few minutes later, I put the skillet back on the burner, got both steaks done (the first one was a bit darker on one side than it should have been) and I dished out dinner. But the best was yet to come. I went to get maid...untie her and bring her to dinner...this was to be her night off...she didn't have to serve me or anything...I HAD been feeling generous.
She was not gagged or blindfolded, just covered in latex and restrained. When I walked into the room to untie her, her eyes bugged out and she began laughing. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the room and I couldn't believe it. I was still covered in fine white flour that contrasted immensely with my black rubber dress. My hood was smudged, my dress was powdery, and my hands had become messy again with flour and bits of batter that had not washed off. I was by no means ready to sit down to a nice dinner.
At first I was angry with her, but when I looked again, I coouldn't help it. I started to laugh as well. I don't know if you have ever laughed uncontrollably while hooded and gagged, but it is not pretty. Before it was all over, I was trying to untie maid while needing to blow my nose and still giggling inside the hood behind the gag.
Well, she cleaned me up...spraying me all over in the shower and drying me off. Dinner was a bit cold, but she very nicely warmed it up for us and we actually had an enjoyable evening. However, I felt it was my responsibilitiy to clean the kitchen...she was all tied up with other things shortly after dinner anyway. :) And I got a bit of my own back when restraining her the second time.
But I think I'll leave CFS to her in the future...when I'm feeling generous again, she'll likely get a slice of cold ham for dinner...something safe!
BTW...I will post again soon to answer the questions in the comments to my last post. I had no idea this experiment would generate so many queries...but hang on...I'll get to them ASAP!
Friday, January 14, 2005
First, let me say it is 11AM here and I am in the house as usual. I am dressed in a long black dress with fitted waist and full skirt, high collar and long sleeves. Under that I have on my corset and black knee high rubber boots with 5 inch heels. Under THAT, I am wearing a light grey tinted transparent full enclosure suit. For those who want to know, yes, I am catheterized and lightly plugged in both front and rear. The cath is clamped and not connected to a bag. Yesterday was a bit of an intense day of bondage, but today Sir has given me complete freedom of movement.
Sealed's last set of queries was:
Your right to call it 24/7 thank you for explaining your protocol in detail. It really gives me an insight. I hope everyone who visits your blog reads the comments as well as the main blog, as it helps to get the picture of how thoroughly thought out your lifestyle is I can so easily appreciate the idea of never being able to see yourself without latex or touch anything but rubber. 24/7. From my point of view its not so much obsessive as dedicated and inspired! More a latex devotion than mania?Do you (or Sir) think of it as a sort mind game? Is the point to think of yourself only in terms of the shiny latex object you see in the mirror? Or, is the idea to separate you from the real world a world less perfect than the latex world inside your suit? Is it a control thing you do it only because Sir says so? Maybe it none of these things, or all of them or maybe its not something it pays to spend too much time defining?It seems that so far you have not had as much difficulty with the lifestyle as many would have expected. Has it all been plain sailing because of your preparation / training, or are there times that you ever get desperate to just rip it all off? How do you work through these times? Do you get locked into the rubber or is it all self control?Do you have a set amount of time for your current 24/7 experiment and do you think you are going to make it? Do you know of any others attempting such a 24/7 lifestyle or are you unique?
Sealed is correct. I like to think I am more devoted to this rubber lifestyle than I am obsessed by it. In fact, as time goes on, I am forgetting that rubber is involved, in a sense. For example, I had to run out to the store this morning. After I dressed, I went downstairs, put on a pair of gloves and a gag and then threw my Burqa over my head and walked down to the store. I was literally half a block away before it struck me that I had put on gloves and gag the way other women put on gloves and hat. I honestly did not even think about how I would look in the burqa, how many people would stare at me or any of those things. This is normality now and I realized it suddenly.
The analogy I make is to moving not a new house. It is not 'home' at first. Everyday, when you get up, it seems unfamiliar, yours, but not 'HOME'. Then, suddenly, one morning it is HOME. The rubber lifestyle has assumed the same dimensions, I think. At first I was very sensitive to the fact that I could feel my suit resisting slightly when I moved, hugging me as I sat. Of course I've been wearing some rubber everyday for years, but I WAS very sensitive to the full enclosure and the fact I was gagged and out in public.
Suddenly today, I was HOME in it.
It IS a mind game, but one I play with myself as well as with Sir. I DO want to be separated from the outside world and I don't want it to intrude through my latex barrier. I am not a hypochondriac nor do I suffer from OCD, but being completely sealed makes me feel protected and at the same time, packaged...That I am an object for his use. This is, of course, the goal we've worked on for years and THAT is a apart of my D/s personality. I think in that case the latex is a means to an end. But the rubber encasement has become an end in itself as well. A way for me to be secure in a chaotic world. This also feeds into my desire to lose my ego, my humanity. I manipulate thigns, but I do not touch them. I am forever separated from the world of sensation, all sensation mediated by a layer of latex.
We went through a LOT of preparing and planning. Sir lays out these protocols to me in great detail (sometimes with drawings and such). He is meticulous because he wants to understand all the possible failure points in plan. and he wants me to understand his desires fully. This is DANGEROUS. If he doesn't plan everything right than a scenario could go badly or I could even be injured. So detail is part of the process. But, as I become more and more used to following the protocol, I become more and more secure in it and it becomes second nature. I suspect astronauts feel the same way...There is so much practice and preparation that when the real thing occurs, you don't worry about failure, you trust the protocol. Of course we all follow scripts through our day to day lives...Mine just involve total rubber enclosure now.
I AM locked into my clothes sometimes. Usually that is done with a collar and a belt of some sort as my dresses and enclosure suits are too thin to support any kind of solid hasp. And that would be prohibitively expensive to have locking and non-locking versions. Mostly, though, it is self control. Early on there were times when I just wanted to rip it all off, particularly back in Texas where it got too hot. I worked my way through those with his support and by concentrating on my desire to fulfill his requests.
Since coming here, I have not had those sensations and indeed, after particularly intense physical activity I tend to want to curl up in another layer of latex...A rubber sheet or comforter or my kimono or a robe...Just to let the sensation of my rubber skin being touched by Sir settle into normalcy again. Imagine post coital sensitivity...You are just too sensitive to be touched by your lover again for a few minutes...Now imagine that you are like that and yet you ARE being touched all over your body by thousands of hands. The only solution is the weight and feel of something soft and loose and comforting.
We have no set time limit on this experiment. I know he wants me to be like this for at least a year if I can tolerate it. Right now, it is becoming so normal that I see no problem with that. One issue would be if we had to move somewhere else where the weather was not as conducive to total enclosure. But we will swim that Tiber when we come t it.
I believe that there are some people in Germany who have tried the same fulltime lifestyle. Lioba and her Puppe, but I don't know if that is as real. We have never paid for access to the inner workings of her site. I would not be surprised if some Austrian rubberists are involved in deep immersion lifestyles. The Austrian fetishists I have met are serious and dedicated to their fetishes.
People are strange. All people. And I would not be surprised to hear of others, to find that there is a quiet underground of people attempting to alter their lifestyles in this manner. We see people doing it in the form of body modification, religious conversion, and other extremes of identification. It seems that in a world where we are told we are being homogenized into oblivion, people seek to establish identity in more and more extreme manners. This is probably normal.
I think it's a good thing.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Sir released me from the bondage i was sleeping in and got me up. He and I went out to stand on the balcony a while in the wind. It was a glorious night...still quite dark. He was in his catsuit, sleeping hood, and gloves, and I was in my clear enclosure suit, two dildos, a rubber nightgown, 5 inch knee high boots, and my sleeping hood with my arms in an armbinder behind me.
It was scary as I was none too steady, but Sir was holding me and didn't make us get too close to the edge. Then he looked at me and said, "let's go for a walk."
I moaned at him a bit, but he was adamant, so we went back inside, changed my hood for a moouthless gag hood and put my burqa on. He took his hood off and put on a heavy rubber macintosh he brought for the weather and a pair of boots. Then we went out through the lobby of the hotel and around to the the beach entrance.
The beach was closed for the night, but there is a sidewalk you can follow that is between the beach and the street. So we walke dalong that as the sun slowly came up. It was cold and wet and windy..>Sir said, "I was hoping for some good weather! This is great!" I mrpphhd a reply through my gag!
I did not think we would see anyone. It was not a fit night out for man nor beast as Sir's mother used to say. But sure enoough, ahead of us in the lessening gloom at 6.30 in the morning, a bike rider was cycling her way down the sidewalk. She was nearly blown off course a couple of times by the wind, but steadily made her way toward us.
Sir and I stepped to the side as she passed. She said thank you and gave me a long stare as she took in the burqa...but didn't lose her balance. My burqa was flying behind me like a huge rubber sail and even dragging me backward a bit. Sir said it was wonderful to see.
In a moment she was gone in the mist and rain and we continued our walk...the macintoshed man and his bowing ghost of a companion.
We walked on for a while, but I started to shiver in the tight rubber and the burqa was not enough to keep me warm, so he turned us back and we may our way to the hotel. The doorman had come back on duty during our absence and he greeted us cordialy and held the door while we went in and walked over to the elevators. The desk staff looked at us a bit, but of course said nothing and within two minutes we were back in our room.
Sir took the burqa off me and told me to go back to bed. I was still bound in the armbinder but I tried to point out that I had a gag hood on, not a sleeping hood. He got it, but told me to lay down and try to go back to sleep. I did, but I didn't sleep. I will not go into personal details, but suffice it to say that a gag was a good idea for the next couple hours. :)
Sunday, January 09, 2005
The kicker is, of course, that I am now in the 24/7 enclosure regimen. I was quite concerned about trying to get on board an aircraft without breaking my regimen and uncovering my face in public.
Over the last five weeks since we started this on Dec 1, I have not shown my face to anyone except Sir and our maid who helps me dress. I have actually become very comfortable with wearing the burqa in public and the thought of showing up at an airport with a naked head was unpleasant.
Sir questioned a couple of TSA workers last week and they said that there would be no problem. Sir described me as a devoout muslim woman and they said that because it is a religious practice to cover myself completely, I would not have to show my face and I could have a private search if I wanted. But there was still a wrinkle.
Before you go thru the metal detector, you must first show photo ID and boarding pass when you enter the security line. The people checking this are often NOT TSA. They are airport employees and are not given the sensitivity training TSA is. Sir asked three of these people as he was travelling and got three different answers. One woman said I woould HAVE to show my face or she would never let me through. Another said that no, they would skip the ID check if I was veiled for religious reasons. The third said they didn't know.
So Sir asked the ticket agent what to do and the airline came up with a solution. before we arrived at the airport, I was placed in a white open face rubber hood from my nun's habit. That makes it look rather like a muslim hijab...the scarf-like head covering many muslim women wear. Then I had to wear my burqa over that. i wasn't completly happy with this because my face was still exposed. but at least no one cold see it while I was in the burqa.
You need to understand that I have been wearing a full face covering hood (or two) virtually consinuously since Dec 1. I have become very comfortable with my new status and not having tight rubber across my face felt WEIRD! But we felt we had to do this in case a photo ID was going to be checked.
Sir took me to the electronic checkin kiosk and we got boarding passes...no ID required. But then he went to the ticket counter and explained that I was not allowed to show my face ... we would need a little help getting into the security queue. A very nice ticket agent explained it to the lady checking IDs and she went and spoke to a TSA agent.
The TSA agent came up and said it was not a problem. I could accompany her to a private area and lift my veil long enough for her to check my ID. this is what Sir had expected and why I wore an open faced hood. She took me behind a curtain and I raised the burqa enough for her to check my ID. Then she escorted me back to Sir.
She could NOT have been more professional and sensitive. She did NOT try to speak with me or have me speak because Sir explained I was not to speak to strangers. She took two seconds to verify my face against my passport and handed it back to me with a smile. I covered myself again and she didn't even seem surprised that my head covering under the burqa was white latex. or that my dress was black rubber too.
I passed through the metal detector, holding the burqa close to me to keep it from touching the sides and Sir follwoed with our carry ons. I was then asked to step aside and to be specially wanded and my carry ons searched. Sir had anticipated this and there was no issue. He told them I would want this done in private and they took me behind another screen. I had actually arrived at the airport in just a pair of rubber swim shoes so these could be taken off...they gave me no hassle about my rubber stockings.
We had to show boarding passes to two other people, but did NOT have to show ID any further. The whole ID thing was merely an extra 2 minutes.
The airline lounge staff showed no surprised at all to see a burqa'd woman and we waited the 2 hours before our flight in comfort. But first I had a task to perform. Sir pulled my knee high rubber boots and two hoods from his carry on and sent me to the ladies room to put them on so I would be properly covered for the flight.
I went to the ladies room and only mildly startled a woman who was at the lavatory as i wafted past and into a stall holding th eboots and a coule of hoods. The hoods went over the white open faced hood and were both black. The first one was a full face hood with eyes nose and nouth holes from DeMask. The second hood was one of my mouthless hoods with a small penis gag that covers my face but prevents speech. I don't usually wear these in public, but Sir said he had made that choice to insure my silence on the plane.
The flight was delayed by an hour so I had to sit at the gate for a while. That wasn't too bad, but there were some children travelling with parents and THEY were very interested in the lady in her shiny covering. They didn't come over though, I did see one mother talking to a little girl probably about 7 or 8 years old and looking up at me from time to time.
When we finally stepped onto our flight and settled in our seats (in first class) I was properly encased again and very comfortable. The flight attendants were polite and I had a very nice flight of about 2 hours duration. We deplaned and waited a while for our luggage. I did get MANY stares both on the plane and in the concourse. Sir made ME take the aisle seat so that people going up and down the aisle would see me. But, as usual, no one said anything to me and even the flight attendants seemed to understand that I could not speak to them.
After we had our luggage, we went out to the taxi queue which, tonight, was in pouring rain. I think I was actually envied by many of the passengers since my "rain burqa" was perfectly suited for the very unseasonal rainstorm here in San Diego.
Checking in at the hotel was no problem. Again, I got lots of starees, but no comments. Sir even met a couple of people he knew and mentioned that he had brought his wife, but I just stood behind him as I have been trained to do. We then went up to our room and I unpacked, changed into evening rubber and we went to dinner. Of course, at dinner (a very nice steak place) I stood behind his chair while he ate. I was fed later here in the room.
I don't know what tomorrow's schedule is...It would be interesting to attend the conferecne like this, but I do not know what he intends. I guess I'll find out later. Now it is time for bed.