ABrank on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Avonbridge Adventure

Sun, 14 Sep 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Preface This story is extracted from the manuscript autobiography of a woman who called herself C. A previous extract, called “Three Roles With Jim”, is posted elsewhere. You do not need to read that story in order to appreciate this one. The chapter in the book in which this story appears was titled “Avonbridge Mall” but I have taken the liberty of giving this story a catchier title. C was vague about timing, but I think this story probably took place two or three years after her experience with Jim when she was in her late 20s or very early 30s. The only thing you need to know is that C regarded her mind as being inhabited by two or three independent entities. The one she refers to as S was subconscious and was sensual and somewhat sadistic. The entity E was a conscious one and was emotional and erotic. C herself was quite rational, but was strongly influenced by the other entities.

Chained

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 00:00:00 +0000

I don’t know why my Master uses such a heavy chain. I am looking at it now. It lies silently on the ground, its thick steel links casually jumbled together. It doesn’t move, it is content to lie there, its power over me absolute and unquestioning. I am its prisoner, I cannot move further than it will allow.

Long ago I tried to break it, to find some weakness, some way of escaping. I franticly tugged and jerked at it, but to no avail. Now I know it is much stronger than me, and I have given up trying to escape its cruel confinement. It is attached to my collar and there is no way to remove it.

Two Ghosts

Wed, 31 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

from the 2007 Halloween special

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves as two white ghosts moved slowly along the dark road. A pirate, a skeleton and a witch approached from the other direction on the opposite side of the road walking at a brisker pace. All except the tall ghost were carrying plastic containers. That carried by the short ghost was in the shape and color of a ripe pumpkin. It was Halloween and they were all out trick-or-treating, going door-to-door demanding candy. The two ghosts were a man and a girl, but not father and daughter as one might suppose, rather they were master and slave. As the two groups drew opposite each other the skeleton and the witch stopped to look at the ghosts. Skye, one of the ghosts, felt a chill, stumbled and had to take a few quick steps to recover.

The Best Christmas Present

Sun, 31 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000

David was tired of Christmas shopping; of cruising the parking lots looking for a space to park, of trying to find suitable presents for his many relatives, and of struggling through the crowds of people. He decided he needed to clear his mind; to get away to somewhere quieter and more peaceful.

It was late on Sunday morning, a few days before Christmas, a fine cold day with a clear blue sky and a chilling wind. He drove out to Johnson Park and parked his aging Ford Mustang in the lot near the entrance. There was one other car in the lot, parked near the trailhead. As he passed he couldn’t help noticing the two lovers in the front seat, entwined in a passionate embrace. He felt a twinge of jealously and wondered if he would ever find love.

The Parachute Stretch

Sat, 16 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000

“I’m going to New York next week,” my wife announced one night at dinner. We were in the dining room of our home in Reigate, near London, eating a chicken dinner and drinking a rather inferior Chardonnay.

“Oh, what for?” I asked.

“I’m attending the annual company meeting. They want me there to answer questions about my project. One of the shareholders has already submitted a question.”

“How long will you be gone?” I asked.

The Christmas Robot

Fri, 15 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Machines and humans have always fought and always will, from the earliest days when steam engines refused to go forwards, through the days when PCs refused to boot up, to today when robots insist on obeying commands literally. This is the story of one such battle, a young woman’s struggle to circumvent a machine’s internal limitations.

The robot was a Christmas present to herself. Its cost represented most of her savings but Quintessa was depressed and felt she deserved some pleasure in life. The only other present she received that Christmas was a bottle of inexpensive perfume from one of her coworkers.

Halloween Mummy

Sat, 25 Nov 2006 00:00:00 +0000

“Will you marry me?” “Perhaps. But you haven’t met my mother yet, and I want to see what she says before I decide,” replied Destiny. “You need your mother’s approval?” asked Daniel in surprise. “No I don’t need it, but I want it,”. “When can we see her?” “All in good time.” She kissed him then continued, “We aren’t in any hurry are we?”

“No, I suppose not, but I love you and want to marry you.” “Well I love you too, and I’ll consider your proposal to be an open invitation. By the way do you want to go trick or treating on Halloween?” “Aren’t we a bit too old?” “Perhaps, but if we dress up we can pretend we’re teenagers again.” “Well, I’d rather spend the evening making love to you.” “I’ve been thinking.” “Yes?” said Daniel suspiciously. “You know how you love to be bandaged up as a mummy? I could dress you as a walking mummy and lead you around.” “That doesn’t sound right. One of the things I like about being a mummy is the feeling of utter helplessness.” “Oh I could make you completely helpless, believe me. Do you want to try it?” “Well…” “I think it would be sexy, being a helpless mummy in public.” “OK, I’ll try it.” “Good. I’m sure you’ll find it exciting. But you have to do everything I tell you. Promise?” “I promise.” “Good. No backing out now. I won’t marry a man who breaks his promises. Now put those handcuffs on and make love to me, I feel very sexy.”

The Longest Flight

Wed, 15 Nov 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Terrell stood in front of the magazine rack at the airport scanning the covers and wondering which one to buy for the flight. Two distinct groups of women looked back at him; a set of smiling faces from the women’s magazines, and a set of pouting ones from the men’s. They were all beautiful, their faces uniformly blemish free and perfectly made up. The principal differences between the groups being their hair and clothes. The hair of the first set was generally immaculate, whereas that of the second was tousled. The clothes of the former were considerably less revealing than those of the latter.

Taking Turns

Thu, 26 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Based on an idea from Hypercat.

“Don’t you remember? I told you only last week.”

Justin’s brain floundered. He was turned on by Brianna’s dazzling smile, her hard shapely body, and revealing clothes. His penis was struggling unsuccessfully to rise. He was so incredibly frustrated he found it almost impossible to find suitable words. “No, I’m sorry it must have slipped my mind.”

“You know, Water.”

“What about water?” Justin tied to concentrate on Brianna’s face and not look at her hard nipples showing prominently through her thin top. No wonder Kevin had chatted her up, she was absolutely gorgeous. He must have been successful, she seemed eager to talk to him, to get him to do something. If only he could figure it out.

The Sex Mummy

Wed, 11 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000

The three girls slowly approached the mummy. It was lying on its back on a table with its ankles locked in metal stocks. It was completely wrapped in white bandages except for a dark object sticking straight up.

“Wow, is that a real penis?” the blonde asked.

“Try it and see,” replied Candy.

The blonde grasped the latex-covered penis, and the mummy moaned in response. She rubbed her hand up and down and the mummy arched it’s back and raised it’s pelvis.

The Birthday Present

Sun, 01 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Sarah closed her eyes and lay back in bed feeling really pissed. Patrick had left for work without mentioning her birthday, hadn’t even given her a kiss. Perhaps it was time to end the relationship. He didn’t seem to care any more, and the sex had become less frequent and less passionate, almost mechanical.

She fingered herself to an unsatisfying orgasm then got up and showered. Hope stirred within her as she was dressing. Perhaps Patrick wanted to surprise her and had left flowers and a present for her downstairs. Surely there would be a card. As she descended the stairs she became more hopeful, certain that he would have left something. But there was nothing in the kitchen, just the usual dirty dish from his cereal. She checked the other rooms; hope fading as each one proved empty.

My First Handcuffs

Tue, 20 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000

The events related in this story took place before the Internet made the acquisition of bondage items so incredibly easy. In those sad dark days, bondage aficionados were mostly uninformed, isolated and guilt ridden.

The sight of the handcuffs, lying closed in the middle of the flea market table, induced an instant reaction. My throat went dry and I was filled with an absolutely uncontrollable desire to possess them. I had fantasized about owning a pair, but had never expected to be presented with an opportunity. My desire overcame my natural feelings of shyness and I lifted my gaze to the unshaven face of the man sitting behind the table. Seeing that he was watching me, I became embarrassed and looked down at the table once more. I moved my hand towards the handcuffs, not daring to touch them, and said, in a voice thick with emotion, “How much for – the handcuffs?” I could barely get the last word out.

Safety Maid

Tue, 20 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Why the hell wasn’t the maid coming down? I had placed her money on top of the note I had written; she could not possibly have missed it. I heard her walking about. She had finished using the vacuum cleaner, but still was not coming down. My note said to come down immediately. But perhaps, I thought hopefully, she only picked up her money at the end when she had finished cleaning. She would read it then. That must be it.

The Keyhole

Tue, 20 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000

“It’s awfully heavy isn’t it?” Sir Howard sighed. “Yes, the intention was to make the wearer continuously aware of its presence.” “It looks awfully old.” “Not really,” Sir Howard replied. “Only about 200 years.” He was thinking of the difference between the English and American concepts of age when Priscilla spoke again.

“It’s very pretty.” “Yes those old craftsmen decorated all their objects. They abhorred a plain surface. Besides, this was intended to be worn by a woman. But the silver and gold decoration you see was done in an earlier style.” Priscilla examined the fine tracery more closely and ran her fingers over it. “Is this real gold?” “Yes, but only a thin layer.” ”It must be very valuable.” “It is, extremely valuable. It’s unique, I don’t know of another like it.” “Where did it come from?” “One of my ancestors brought it back from Italy. Family tradition says it originally came from the Borgias.” She didn’t say anything. Sir Howard felt she had passed her first test. They were sitting in one of the private rooms of the castle, one not open to the general public. Sir Howard had intercepted her while she was on the self-guided tour. He had selected her, as he had previous candidates, because she had shown particular interest in the torture chamber and the dungeon. She had lingered there for a considerable time before moving on to the upper floor. He was annoyed at the presence of tourists in his castle. The Government’s financial policy, particularly the crippling death duties, had reduced his once proud family to a state of poverty. The only way he could continue to live in his ancestral home was to open it to the public. He resented their intrusion, and considered them fair game. Not that he caught many, very few in fact, perhaps one a year. He only caught the very stupid ones, and considered his practice a benefit to society as well as a personal means of gratification. Nearly all his potential victims escaped, and were unaware they had even been in danger. The average person had nothing to fear from him. He regarded Priscilla closely. She was a young and brash American with perfect teeth. and large breasts. But her waist was thick. He wondered why women had given up the practice of wearing corsets, they looked so very much more attractive with a slender waist. It enhanced their shape and exaggerated the difference between the sexes. Apart from breasts and makeup it seemed difficult to tell the sexes apart these days. He thought that if she were ever in his power, he would put a very tight corset on her. His reverie was interrupted by Priscilla. “How do you open it?” “It unlocks with a key. I’ll get it for you if you like.” “Oh that would be very kind, your Lordship.” He smiled. She was only trying to please, so he did not correct her. He stood up and went to his study. He regretted that he had forgotten to return the key to the case. He wondered if he should have offered to get the key, it was a leading invitation, and he normally did not incite his victims by making suggestions, their downfall had to be entirely of their own doing. But he reasoned that the key was normally displayed alongside the collar, so he was now merely leveling the playing field, as the Americans would say. He found the key in the drawer where he had left it and returned to the morning room. “Here it is.” He placed it on the table. He did not want to cheat by handing it directly to her; she had to pick it up. “What an interesting key!” “Yes, the Italians were consummate craftsmen.” “Do you mind if I try it?” “No, go ahead.” She picked up the key and inserted it into the lock. He noted that she did not ask the obvious question, perhaps she would be the one. But he was not optimistic; he had learned that very few fell into the trap. “How does it work?” “Just keep turning to the right keeping the key pointing straight in. First the screw threads engage, then the lock will open.” She turned the key, and after a few revolutions the collar fell open. “Oh wow!” “Yes. Beautiful isn’t it?” “How do you close it?” “First you unscrew the key and remove it, then you can press the collar closed. The teeth are spring mounted.” “Why are they such a funny shape?” “That’s to prevent the wearer sliding a knife into the opening and forcing the teeth back to open the collar. The tooth guards also make the collar stronger, it can’t be twisted or bent.” “I see.” She unscrewed the key and laid it back on the table. “These projections on the inside, they’re blunt. If I were making an instrument of torture I think I’d make them sharp. You know, to stick into the person.” ‘How unsubtle you Americans are,’ thought Sir Howard. Out loud he said, “That would certainly appear to make it a more fearsome instrument of torture. But, surprisingly, the blunt spikes are crueler. Sharp spikes would, as you must realize, penetrate the skin. They would cause immediate bleeding, and infection would soon set in. The unfortunate wearer might well be dead within a fortnight. But the blunt spikes don’t immediately do any damage. It may take weeks before they abrade the skin sufficiently to cause infection, so the wearer might live for months in agony before dying.” “Oh, wow!” “Initially the blunt spikes are not painful,” Sir Howard continued, “so if the wearer were a lady of the court she could still attend court functions. She could perform all of her normal duties for several weeks. Unless of course, she foolishly moved the collar around.” “Why would she do that?” “Well some victims don’t like the weight resting on their shoulders or the spikes pressing into one particular spot, so they lift it or move it around, and that abrades the skin. They would live longer if they simply left it alone.” “How horrible!” “Yes it is.” Priscilla sat with the open collar resting on her jean-covered thighs. She ran her hand over the spikes on the inside. “It doesn’t feel too bad.” “No. Initially it’s quite comfortable I’m told. The rounded edges at the top and bottom prevent it digging into the skin. The only thing you notice is the weight, as you pointed out, but the bottom is curved to distribute the weight more evenly around the neck.” “The top is shaped too.” “Yes. It’s designed to hold the head in one position, but of course that depends to some extent on how long a person’s neck is.” Priscilla closed the collar until the teeth engaged, but did not press hard enough to lock it. She moved her right hand around the inside of the collar feeling the smooth metal and the short blunt spikes. Sir Harold held his breath. He did not want to influence her decision one way or the other, but it had been a long time, and he felt very tempted to say something. “Do you mind if I try it on?” Priscilla asked. “No I don’t mind, but you’ll have to put in on yourself.” “Which way does it go on?” “The hinge goes in the back. That way, viewed from the front, the collar looks entirely decorative with an uninterrupted design.” Priscilla opened the collar and placed it around her neck. She pressed the two halves together, but it did not close fully. Sir Howard wondered if he were doing the right thing. To be trapped you had to be both stupid and strong. He felt he should be doing his bit to eliminate the stupid and the weak as well. “I can’t seem to get it closed.” “You have to push very hard.” Priscilla placed her palms flat on each side of the collar and grunted as she jerked her arms together. The collar closed with a click. “Wow! What a neat feeling. You were right, it’s not uncomfortable, but it does feel heavy.” “It’ll feel heavier with time.” This was one of Sir Howard’s favorite parts, the delay before the full realization of the problem. “Wow, I’ve discovered another problem. When I turn my head it moves the collar and I can feel the spikes moving on my neck.” “Yes. You’ll have to learn to keep your head still.” “What does it look like on? Can I see myself in a mirror?” “Certainly. Come this way.” Sir Howard led the way into the day room. Priscilla examined herself in the large ornate mirror. “Oh it’s beautiful. Can I take a picture?” “Yes, of course.” “Do you mind taking one of me?” “Not at all.” Priscilla took a disposable camera from her pocket book and handed it to Sir Howard, who examined it as if he had never seen one before. “You look through here, and then you press this button here.” Sir Howard raised the camera to his eyes. “No you’re too close. Can you step back a little?” Sir Howard obliged, took the photo and handed the camera back to her. “Thanks awfully. My friends will be so jealous when they see this picture.” Sir Howard smiled but said nothing and they returned to the morning room. They sat down and Sir Howard waited for the penny to drop. But Priscilla started on another tack. “Your torture chamber is so interesting.” “Thank you. But it’s not a real torture chamber.” “It isn’t?” “No, it’s just something we made as a tourist attraction. Practically all the instruments on display are fakes and reproductions.” “They are?” “Yes, and the room wasn’t even a dungeon. I think it was only ever used as a storage cellar.” “Really? How disappointing!” “The real dungeon is in this part of the castle. But it’s very damp, so it’s not really suitable for crowds of tourists. You can see if you like.” “I’d love to. But perhaps I could take this collar off first.” “Certainly, if you can figure out how.” “What do you mean?” “Well the keyhole is on the inside so I don’t see how you can get the key in to unlock it.” “Oh my god! How do you get it off?” “Well it’s far too valuable to cut off, so I usually cut off the wearer’s head. After they’re dead of course!”

Ignacio’s Heaven

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Ignacio was at the point of death. The doctor had said that he would not last the night, but privately thought that the end would come within the hour.

The few family members, and even fewer friends, who had visited him during the previous weeks were not as concerned about his health or welfare as they were about the contents of his will. He had not done much with his life; he had inherited a fortune from his grandfather but had lived most of his years as a miser and a recluse. He was reputed to be very wealthy; people thought that his grandfather’s money must have multiplied since he seemed to have spent so little, his only indulgence being an occasional prostitute. He would have had more, but they seldom expressed any desire to return after their first visit.

The Most Beautiful Girl in the World

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Jack was very angry at the machine’s refusal to give him the candy bar for which he had paid. He was swearing some particularly juicy phrases when a large puff of red smoke erupted next to him. Out of the swirling eddies stepped a man in a baggy suit.

“You called?” the man said.

“Who are you, some kind of magician?”

“Some call me that, but no, I’m.. . .let me think. Who were you calling? Oh yes, I’m Satan.”