Well, back in Ireland again and having fun in the rain. Actually, it rained every day in May until about the 25th and it has been pretty since then.
Everyone has been asking about my new the bag which Sir gave me while we were in the US. I thought I would explain a bit about it and how it makes me feel. But first an update on fashions and toys. And some more detail on our visit at Easter with Sir’s family
As I have written earlier on the fact that we visited Sir’s family, I thought I would go into much more detail about how I was dressed and the impressions I both had and made at Easter when I attended Mass and we had dinner with the family. I hope this recap is not boring to my regular readers.
We visited Sir’s sister in Texas for Easter and it was freezing and rain…very strange weather for that time of year. Sirs sister and family know about our lifestyle and, while still somewhat taken aback, they accept us well and make us welcome.
They are Catholic and Sir and I agreed to attend Easter Sunday mass with them. Sir wore his best black latex catsuit under a white rubber shirt and black latex slacks. The catsuit makes him stand taller and slimmer and the slacks look very nice on him.
I wore white. Because it was cold I wore a total enclosure white catsuit with gloves, hood, and feet. The suit’s hood is similar to my burqa’s hood; pepper pot eyes and no mouth., very tightly zipped over my head.
Over the catsuit I wore white stockings, suspended from a white corset and white knee high rubber boots with 5 inch heels. The corset is a very smooth affair, flaring over my hips and Sir laced it tighter than usual. It has bra cups which inflate both inward and outward, crushing my own breasts under the catsuit but filling out my apparent figure quite attractively. And it fits like a dream. However, the sensation of my breasts being crushed under its relentless pressure is only tolerable for a short time; no more than 36 hours or so.
Then my favourite white dress. It has a very tight bodice, (which receives wonderful attention from the tightly inflated corset cups), extra tight sleeves and a very high tight collar. The waist nips perfectly over the corset and the ankle length skirt flairs almost as much as my burqa. The whole dress uses about 8 yards of rubber and swirls very dramatically when I twirl. It weighs over 10 pounds!
The sleeves are so tight they limit my flexion at the elbow…or rather encourage me to limit it because they bite a bit at the elbow, particular when worn over the catsuit sleeves which are tight themselves. Over these, Sir insisted on a second pair of elbow length, very small gloves to insure I had very little feeling in my hands.
The dress can be belted and Sir decided to use a restraint belt for the day. This belts around my waist, buckling smoothly in back, and has two cuffs for the upper part of my arms, just above the elbows. The result, of course, is severely limited use of my arms and hands. He drew the cuffs extra tight as well, resulting in numbness very quickly. It isn’t enough to be dangerous, but the whole day I felt like my hands were asleep and they were useless for grasping anything…his intent, of course.
Finally, it was time for my burqa. Since I would be in public I was to be burqa’d in the white rubber one for the day (actually, I had to wear one at all times at his sisters anyway, except when alone with him in our hotel room). He draped it over me and ulled its bultin hood tightly over my face, numbing that too, and zipping it tightly closed over my mouth and face. He unzipped my dress a bit an inserted the burqa hood under the dress collar, then zipped mye up again to insure that neck movement was limited.
But then he added a matching white posture collar to hold my head high and rigidly looking forward! Iwas not expecting that since he usually does not do so for me going out in public under the veiling garment. But, seeing this was Easter, he felt I should be asa formal and limited as possible to guarantee my sensations of submission.
So, in the end I was encased fully in three skin tight layers of latex for the day, then tented with a fourth; catsuit, corset and stockings, dress, and burqa. And two hoods and two pairs of gloves, with arms restrained to my sides above the elbows and no way to utter a sound. My breasts were crushed tantalizingly into my chest and breathing was something I did very shallowly.
Of course with the hoods I had extremely limited vision since there were three interfering sets of perforations between my eyes and the world; the catsuit hood with its pepper pot eyes, the burqa’s built in hood with its same style eyes, and the burqa’s perforated mesh as well.
So all in all, I was incredibly restrained and limited in my scope of existence and sensation for Easter. Sir said he felt it was appropriate that for attending a religious sevice like a Mass, I be reminded of how insignificant my own desires and inclinations are…that the bondage would make me aware of the larger issues in things.
I mostly just felt incredibly aroused!
I was led out of our hotel suite and we stood in the blowing freezing wind and rain for about 5 minutes waiting for our car to be brought round. The hotel staff stared, of course, but a very nice young girl in the rather elaborate hotel door uniform (would be lovely in latex) walked up to the car and held the door for me as if she did so for burqa’d guests everyday. Getting into the car might have been an issue, but Sir held my hand through the burqa, and I have long since worked out the best way for a woman in a huge flowing rubber garment to sit and swivel into a bucket seat.
Sir reached over me and fastened my seatbelt (I certainly could not) and I sat rigid and upright, still and ivory, looking like nothing so much as a motionless, gleaming statue of white marble, carved in an almost Grecian style, the rubber flowing out from the crown of my head down and over the car seat like alabaster.
My vision blurred and swirled as we drove, the world taking on a strange, out of focus and bleary appearance. All colours were muted by the heavy rain and even more so by the moiré patterns before my eyes.
Everything smelled of latex, the tiny holes in the two skin-tight hoods making my breath loud in my ears. There was very little else to listen too, Sir being quiet as he drove us to his sister’s to meet before Mass. I settled into my seat and clasped my hands together under the veil. Truth be told, I wound up rubbing myself slowly, just to enjoy the feeling,
When we arrived it was even worse weather than when we set out. Sir handed me out of the car and we walked down the drive to the house. The wind was viciously cold and as most of you know, latex rapidly loses its temperature, particularly when it is tight against the body.. The burqa, however, forms an airspace around the wearer and it kept me reasonably warm. Sir was actually shivering in his jacket, shirt, and catsuit more than I was.
His sister greeted us warmly, giving me a hug and even a kiss on my rubbered cheek. Of course, our ‘straight’ relatives do not typically know how much latex I wear beneath the burqa, but there was no way she could mistake what she felt under the burqa for bare skin, I think. Nonetheless, she acted as if she was completely sanguine with me, my apparel, and my silence.
We did not linger at her house long, but bundled ourselves back into cars and followed her and her husband to the church. There, all 7 of us piled into a pew and I sat and silently watched as Mass proceeded. I did not rise and fall as is usual in Mass, but kept my seat. Nor did I take communion., obviously.
After Mass we met the priest for a moment who was gracious if a bit nonplussed by a white burqa in hi church. I did shake his hand and Sir explained that I did not speak in public. He took it in stride and invited me back again.
Back at the house I was told I could change into my red burqa and a hood with a mouth so I could eat Easter dinner with the rest of the family. I changed into a red dress and hood and came out in my red burqa. I was allowed to chat with my sister-in-law as well as I ate small bites of Easter dinner.
I shall write more later on the new bag…its hood can be inflated in such a way as to slowly suffocate me in a most erotic manner…but more on that later.