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Bound to Serve: A Rubber Gimp’s Devotion

Updated: Mar 25

This story is accompanied by a video. You can watch the full video on my JustFor.Fans or OnlyFans page.


Two people in glossy black rubber suits, one seated on a couch with legs crossed, the other kneeling and worshiping the sneakers

The night was only beginning.


The door clicked shut, leaving the gimp alone in the room. The master had stepped out to retrieve his belongings, leaving explicit instructions - dress in full rubber, from head to toe, and be ready.


It obeyed without hesitation, relishing the ritual. The suit, smooth and unforgiving, swallowed every inch of its flesh, encasing it in darkness. The rubber hood sealed away its identity, allowing it to become nothing but an obedient object for its master’s pleasure.


The gimp waited in silence. The only sound in the room was its own controlled breathing - drawn in through the tight latex, slow and steady. Time stretched, anticipation curling through its veins. It existed only for the master’s return.


Finally, the door creaked open. A rush of cool air followed, a stark contrast to the heat trapped within the suit. Each measured footstep echoed with authority. A heavy chain was fastened around the gimp’s neck, the cold weight pressing against the tight rubber. With a final, resounding click, the giant padlock secured it in place. There was no escape, only patient submission.


Down,” the master murmured, eyes raking over the perfectly rubberized figure.


A firm gesture, and the gimp knew what was expected. It knelt, head bowed, sinking onto all fours as the master extended his leg, presenting his sneakers before it. The scent was intoxicating - leather, sweat, the lingering musk of exertion. It leaned in, pressing its face against them, inhaling deeply. It was a privilege to be this close, to indulge in the raw essence of its owner. Trapped in layers of latex, its own arousal pulsed, denied and aching. But its pleasure was irrelevant - only service mattered.


The master reached down and commanded, “You know what comes next.”


A slow nod. The gimp crawled forward, eyes locked onto the master’s codpiece. A bulge strained against the tight material, a promise of power waiting to be unleashed. It understood its role - an instrument of its master’s pleasure.


With trembling anticipation, it pressed its face against the rubber, kissing, worshiping, surrendering. The warmth beneath the fabric sent shivers through its body, reinforcing its purpose. It had no needs of its own - only the need to serve, to obey, to please.


The night was only beginning.


Two people in shiny black rubber outfits sit on a brown couch. One sits atop the other, wearing a hat with "GEAR." Abstract art decorates the wall.

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