Warm water runs over my latex stockings, across my chest, my mask, and the tight gloves clinging to my hands – leaving shimmering trails on every inch of rubber. My gimp is already waiting, kneeling, breathing, obedient. I place the latex sheet over his face, slowly, deliberately. Can you hear it? The creak of rubber, the pounding water, the way his breathing quickens? I hold the moment in place. How long will it take… before he’s allowed to breathe again?