Well, 13 months and 2 weeks after I first encased myself totally in latex 24/7. the experiment, the project, the protocol, whatever we decide to call it, is coming to an end.
Sir has decided that it is just too difficult for me to continue the regimen without maid's help. And neither of us are looking to replace our dear friend and love just yet.
I tried to continue for the past 2 weeks since she left, but there is just too many parts to the regimen that I need help with. From cleaning skinsuits, to making sure I am dry and lotioned properly, to corsetting and dressing it is a lot. Of course I do it when we travel but in those cases I have Sir to help me.These past two weeks have just become too time consuming a burden
And I let myself stay wet on my back and had a slight rash develop. Sir decided then tht it is time relax the 24/7 regiemen.
Now, this does not mean I will not be in rubber most of the time. I will still wear latex dresses, gloves, hoods, my corsets and my burqa. I shall even wear my skinsuits much of the time, but, like most fetishists, I shall take everything off and shall not try to maintain total enclosure, particularly over my face.
I shall blog here to let everyone know how the re-entry into the world goes. And Sir has said that it is quite acceptable for me to veil in public in my burqa if I wish. I think I shall continue to do that. I hae grown quite accustomed to viewing the world from behind my perforated screens and feeling the gentle weight of rustling rubber swirling around me as I walk.
Speaking of which, I wish to describe a bit more about my own reactions and feelings to enclosure. I realize, I have not delved too deeply into the physical sensations I experience while sealed.
I was thinking about this today as we walked around the mall shopping. Perhaps because I will soon no longer be experiencing it all the time, I was sensitive to that gentle 'plick, plick' sensation of the latex skinsuit moving against my skin as I walked. I became very aware of the sensations of latex rubbing between my thighs and along my back and the back of my knees.
There is that subtle, constant, restriction and resistance that tells me I am slave to the rubber, that I am constrained and restrained and encased and stimulated. The sesnation of my gloves holding myhands in their tight embrace, the feel of the gag in my mouth and the4 tightness of my hood against my face.
There is that sensation, known to those who wear catsuits, of a bit of air trravelling up the leg over the buttocks and on up the back. There is an occassional sound asdn the faint whiff of latex.
Certainly no one could hear any of the squelching of my skinsuit, corset, black dress or gloves in the noise of the mall. But I could hear it all under the burqa and the sounds of it made a sort of ambient music as I wandered the busy corridors of shops and shoppers.
The feelings of latex gliding over me, whether at the mall beneath my burqa, a home beneath my dresses or in bed benath my sheets always arouses and excites me. There is, of course, a sexual component to that, but more, thee is an anticipation of the great 'drifting off' sensation that I get when latex finally swallows me from my feet to my chin, then my face, then my whole head. I suspect that only those of us into total enclosure can really understand this sensation of surrendering our identities to the rubber as it seems to crawl all over us and we wish it could flow into our orifices and slide down our throats.
I shall still enjoy these sensations, of course. But after tomorrow, they will once again become special occassions, not everyday ones.