Bob Salinas

Part One I’m a guy with my very own great pair of tits. For whatever reason, Mother Nature decided to bless me with- in addition to the normal body and genitalia of a man- a round, high pair of breasts and sensitive nipples. I’m not an expert in the human anatomy, but part of it is genetic, inherited. My ‘anatomic extras’ developed in high school. Locker rooms were torture and my social life was nonexistent because I couldn’t bear the thought of getting naked and exposing my breasts to a girl, and that’s how I ended up a 36-year-old virgin on the south side of Milwaukee. ...

Chapter 5 – Betsy’s Tour of the Academy, part 1 Chapter 5 – Betsy’s Tour of the Academy, part 2 By Bob Salinas Story codes: Bondage, F/m, F/F, pillory Mistress Ellen led me to the back door and out. “We have 80 fenced-in acres here, and- as of today- 23 outdoor ‘locations’ at which you can stage a session for a client, with plenty of room for more. I’ll take you with me while I check on a couple of sessions and show you a couple more. I’ll run off a list on the computer for you later.” ...

(story continues from Mistress Ellen’s Academy 4) Chapter 5 – Betsy’s Tour of the Academy, part 1 I stepped out of Mistress Ellen’s office and followed her gently swaying form a few steps down the hall to a door with a small brass sign proclaiming, in the omni­present Gothic, “Ten”. She pushed the door open (it had no knob, just a polished brass push-plate) and we stepped into a large, bare room with two windows framed by light gray curtains. ...

Chapter 5 – Betsy’s Tour of the Academy, part 2 Mistress Ellen led me to the back door and out. “We have 80 fenced-in acres here, and - as of today - 23 outdoor ‘locations’ at which you can stage a session for a client, with plenty of room for more. I’ll take you with me while I check on a couple of sessions and show you a couple more. I’ll run off a list on the computer for you later.” ...

I’m Penny … no, I’m Hank. I’m 185 pounds of ‘girlie man’ – a cross-dresser. I’m 6’1” tall and weigh 185 pounds, with a reasonably masculine shape except for a disproportionate amount of that weight concentrated in my boobs. When ‘the urge’ comes over me and I transform myself from Hank into Penny, the result is pretty nice if somewhat large- I mean, even for working farm girls my size is a bit much. ...

I’m Penny … no, I’m Hank. I’m 185 pounds of ‘girlie man’ – a cross-dresser. I’m 6’1” tall and weigh 185 pounds, with a reasonably masculine shape except for a disproportionate amount of that weight concentrated in my boobs. When ‘the urge’ comes over me and I transform myself from Hank into Penny, the result is pretty nice if somewhat large- I mean, even for working farm girls my size is a bit much. ...

(story continues from Mistress Ellen’s Academy 2) Chapter 3 – Bob and Betsy’s First Bondage Encounter – part 1 On Saturday morning I woke up early in spite of myself; I was anxious! After a leisurely shower and breakfast, I putzed around for a couple of hours before I finally decided to get ready. I’d laid out my clothes the day before (showing my anxiety, it’s true), so the black nylon stockings and matching-black garter belt were right at hand. Over this I pulled a pair of blue panties, smiling momentarily about how one of my teen-years boyfriends had expressed surprise at the panties going over the garter belt. He just hadn’t thought about whether I’d want to unfasten all that stuff just to get my underpants down to pee! ...

Chapter 3 – Bob and Betsy’s First Bondage Encounter- part 2 After an hour or so’s worth of showering, refreshment, levity, and general recovery, Bob suggested that we return to the garage for our second session: “Ready to surrender your body and will to me, my friend Betsy?” I didn’t hesitate: “Your turn on top, my friend Bob!” He got up and disappeared upstairs to pull on a black vinyl catsuit that clung to him like skin from his feet to his neck, covering everything but clinging to his outlines so well that it didn’t really hide anything. In particular, Bob noticed that I noticed that I could clearly see the outlines of his thick cock. I flicked my tongue across my lips as I spotted the slit in the fat head of his cock. ...

In Memorium - Elaine H. (1949-1999) Elaine was a morbidly obese slut, but she was a kind, nonjudgmental morbidly obese slut who accepted herself as she was. She knew about all my kinks and bondage in particular; she didn’t really go for them, for herself preferring cuddling and foreplay and enthusiastic fucking, but she accepted what I saw in them. She’d been out of the area for almost a year, and last week she called to let me know that she was returning in a couple of days. We made plans for her to come up from Virginia and visit me at my place in Baltimore this weekend. ...

In Memoriam – Elaine H., 1949-1999 Part 2 – She Rescues Me Again My girlfriend Elaine, as mentioned previously, is a morbidly obese slut, but she’s a kind, non-judgmental morbidly obese slut who tolerates my self-bondage fetish. She doesn’t really enjoy bondage or self-bondage herself, but she appreciates that I do and plays my games just because she’s my friend and she enjoys playing games with me - and if they happen to be sexual games, so much the better, because she’s a slut. Because of the way she plays along with my kinks, I use her as an ‘escape mechanism’ for inescapable self-bondage; I don’t have to worry about complex timers and the like to eventually free myself. I don’t ‘use her’ in a degrading sense- we always end up having a lot of fun and great sex. Elaine also packs a huge pair of tits (somewhere in the four-foot range, big even for a fat girl), a colossal ass, and has a delightful way of completely losing her inhibitions about her body not being ‘model perfect’. ...

In Memoriam – Elaine H., 1949-1999 Part 3 – Elaine Tries Selfbondage Elaine (a girlfriend of years I’ve written about in two previous chapters) is a morbidly obese slut- I mean we’re talking seriously fat, like 5’7” and 275 pounds! But she has a couple of things going for her: first, she’s a self-admitted slut, which from my point of view is just fine and means she gets a lot of aerobic exercise; second, it’s not a bad body if you don’t mind fat, with a huge bust and a colossal ass; and third (and most important), she’s a kind, caring, non-judgmental morbidly obese slut. She’s played a number of my games (mostly bondage and self-bondage with a bit of mummification thrown in for good measure as if to demonstrate that I’m truly out in left field) with me, tolerating my kinks less than really ‘getting into’ them, but she doesn’t condemn me for my ‘perversion’. She enjoys my company and the activity, perverted or not, but mostly enjoys the cuddling and ‘ordinary’ sex that comes ‘after’. The last time we played, she took pictures of me self-bound with her new digital camera, and we fucked each other’s brains out after reviewing our photographs on my computer. A week or so later, she called again to talk. (Since we live a couple of hours’ drive apart, we spend a lot of time on the phone.) She sounded a little bit down. ...

In Memoriam – Elaine H., 1949-1999 Part 4 – Elaine’s Tutorial in Self-Bondage “Hi, Bob… this is Elaine. Remember last time we got together… stop laughing, I know you remember that weekend, but I haven’t finished my sentence yet!” Elaine, of course, was the kind, nonjudgmental but morbidly obese girlfriend of whom I’ve written before. And I most definitely remembered the weekend- I had set myself up in a self-bondage situation with no means of escape (no timers, ice cubes, spare keys or anything) until Elaine arrived to release me or take advantage of me (or hopefully both). We’d played several sexual games before, but this was going to be her ‘personal best’. (To read more about Elaine, check Gromet’s site for other stories by Bob Salinas.) ...

Part One I’m a guy with my very own great pair of tits. For whatever reason, Mother Nature decided to bless me with- in addition to the normal body and genitalia of a man- a round, high pair of breasts and sensitive nipples. I’m not an expert in the human anatomy, but part of it is genetic, inherited. My ‘anatomic extras’ developed in high school. Locker rooms were torture and my social life was nonexistent because I couldn’t bear the thought of getting naked and exposing my breasts to a girl, and that’s how I ended up a 36-year-old virgin on the south side of Milwaukee. ...

Part Three Naturally, having been blessed with such a playtime gift as my boobs, bras are a favorite toy and adornment, and since I’ve gotten entangled in the web of bondage, breast bondage came naturally. I decided, while playing with a collection of my toys and a length of rope, to weave a ‘bondage bra’ for myself. While browsing through the assorted sleazy magazines through which an unattached male usually winds up browsing, I’d seen pictures of babes with their tits bound, with varying degrees of stringency and/or realism. (Usually very bosomy babes- who’s interested in looking at pictures of flat-chested babes with their tits bound?) The worst (which wasn’t exactly miserable) showed a big-boobed bimbo with two ropes draped loosely around her chest, and the best showed serious loving bondage which showcased the lady’s bound breasts. I always read the stories that came with them, which usually described in erotic detail how they dreaded and loved the experience of being bound, and how the bondage made her breasts feel. ...

Part One Al, already naked, finished tying his ankles securely to the legs of the sofa and pulled himself to his feet. He clipped the short piece of clothesline, already snugly knotted around his ballsack, to a clock weight resting on the seat cushion. He had measured the rope carefully, and there were precisely three inches of slack. He pulled himself up and packed his mouth with a carefully-selected pair of his wife’s panties, fresh out of the hamper and not fresh – just what he wanted. They were full-fashioned cotton bloomers- good for mouth packing and jacking off, but poor fantasy material. Maybe one of these years she’s try on one of his gifts from Victoria’s Secret, but Al wasn’t hopeful. ...

(story continues from Her Three Guys) Part 2 By Bob Salinas I squirmed and watched helplessly as Mistress Ellen picked up a many-thonged whip and approached Slave Number Two. He watched helplessly in the mirror in front of him as She drew back the whip. He had a splendid view in at least three mirrors of the way She used the whip to paint red streaks of pain across his ass. Twice, three times, four times She brought it down on his exposed backside. His body lurched, but his body was too firmly positioned, fastened helplessly at head and knees, to avoid the blows even if he had really wanted to. One more time She struck him, the thongs striking right down the crack of his ass, wrapping over his asshole and around his bound and aching genitals. I almost felt sorry for him, but then I realized that, like Slave Number One and Slave Number Me, he had stripped and knelt naked before Her as a video camera recorded his statement. Like him, I had said ...

One hot July afternoon, I was surfing the ‘net in my apartment. Shortly after I started, I realized how hot it was and took off my silk blouse, letting the breeze from the ceiling fan blow across my breasts. A voluptuous sort like myself needs the support, so I seldom go without a bra, but this bra was rather skimpy. Its cups barely covered my nipples, and their upper surface shimmered with ladylike perspiration. ...

Everybody has a fantasy, I suppose. Mine is to be helplessly bound before a beautiful dominant Mistress- usually a tall, blonde Nordic goddess type clad in a black leather cat suit. My favorite elaboration on this fantasy had me standing bolt upright in her dungeon- naked, of course (I mean, some sexy activity is usually a part of such fantasies), except for a multitude of leather straps that bound my arms to my sides. While I don’t have a tall, blonde Nordic goddess type clad in a black leather cat suit, I do have a marvelous friend named Melanie- a self-proclaimed slut.. She may not be a Helga, but she’s more than voluptuous enough, and she has enough sexual enthusiasm for the bedrooms of half the Danes in the country! ...

Yolanda moved to a larger apartment after she got a promotion, and I volunteered to help her move- especially when she offered to let me move her underwear! First, because it was after all her underwear, and secondly because that figured to be a light box- I knew from happy experience that she wasn’t into heavy underwear, and not much of the flimsy things she did wear! After carrying a bunch of stuff in many loads the first day, we bought shipping supplies and spent a morning wrapping and preparing the big stuff, after which we rented a U-Haul truck and finally moved everything on the rest of the day. After we returned the truck and reassembled the last of the furniture- the bed- we collapsed onto it and fell asleep together- most unusual for us! ...

A few days ago I was browsing at a local porn shop and I discovered they had a neat collection of dildos and butt plugs- gee, what a surprise! I picked up a flexible rubbery dildo, 7 inches long, and since it was in the ‘cheap stuff’ bin, I bought it and took it home. I was in an experimenting mood- okay, I was horny- and I discovered that, with a little bit of practice, that I could deep-throat it! Once I got the hang of ‘inhaling’ it, I could slide the whole length of the thing down my throat! This was a new thrill, but I didn’t get too much of a sexual bang out of it. It’s just that I got to experience the feeling of being submissive and forced to take a cock all the way down- a real mental charge. ...

In Memoriam – Elaine H., 1949-1999 Morbidly Obese Slut Elaine was snatched from this life by a loathsome disease which turned out to be the reason for her sudden weight loss; she spent two months in the comfort of a hospice program before she passed away quietly. I was invited to the wake and her funeral, as her family knew I was a close friend. At the wake my eye was caught by a striking young brunette and managed to strike up a conversation. She told me she was Melanie, Elaine’s second cousin. I looked her over and estimated that she was about 32, 5 feet six, and 170 pounds. She noticed my looking and jumped right in: “To correct your guess, I’m 34, five feet seven in my naked feet, and I weigh 165 pounds. If you want to know more you’ll have to buy me dinner!” ...

In Memoriam – Elaine H., 1949-1999 Part Two Please read part 1 first for this to make more sense After an eternity of waiting and suffering, I heard a key on the front door and the door opening and closing. For a moment, there was silence, and then the sound of the toilet flushing Melanie’s output safely away. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs and the door opened. I couldn’t see the door from my cell, so I just waited and looked at my reflection until…. ...

I met the lady on one of those evenings I spent at a joint in the Tenderloin, which catered to the BDSM-oriented crowd. She was definitely a little older, fortyish, than the usual pro Dom, but I found that more of a turn-on than -off; it told me she wasn’t some twenty-three-year-old who had been handed a costume of a tiger-skin bikini, whip, and high heels and shown how to pose with a sneer. This was a grown-up woman who had been around the block several times and had the scars that go with the trip. ...

As part of a new project at work, Bob got sent off to Tokyo for two exciting weeks. I missed the hell out of him- I can’t sleep alone any more, and when I can’t sleep I get horny, and then, well, I resort to jilling off. That’s awful, I act just like a man when his woman’s not there! Actually, I have nothing against masturbation; it’s good exercise and it keeps you in a better mood. Really, I think masturbating is at its best when I let go and allow myself to feel like a wanton slut, kneeling naked on the bed, hungry for my own pleasure, my knees spread wide, watching my reflection in the mirrors as my hands dance across my naked body, grunting like a stuck pig…. worse, this was going to be the first of many trips as the product line came up to speed! ...

(story continues from My Mistress, My Accountant 3) Part Four The seventh day During the night I spent a fair amount of time banging around ideas for my new project- for some reason I wake up a lot when I’m bound, and so far my sleep this week had been intermittent. Before this story began, I did a lot of self-bondage play and even tried a couple of self-bondage experiments that went all night, and those occasions proved that a good solid night’s sleep while bound is well-nigh impossible. ...

Somehow I knew that Friday was going to be ‘one of those days’. Everything went wrong at the office, my normally serene boss blew up, and dinner (which I fixed myself) was lousy, but at least I had that night’s long-awaited self-bondage games to look forward to. I went down to the basement and prepared by setting up a portable TV and VCR to give myself something to fuel my fantasies during the time I was to be bound. Then I got naked (it’s always a good idea to get naked with your partner) and set up my bondage timer: I pulled out of the freezer a Styrofoam cup of ice; through the center of the block of ice ran a string to which was tied the key to my handcuffs. When the ice melted enough, the string would be dropped out of a bracket on the wall and the key would drop near enough to my hands to seize it. Ice makes a great timer- the laws of thermodynamics are inexorable and foolproof! ...

After telling my folks I was going to Indianapolis for a weekend conference, I moved myself into the barn on the outlying 160 acres of my uncle Melvin’s Fort Wayne farm for a couple of days of self-bondage game-playing. I arrived late on Saturday morning, drove down a bumpy dirt road and pulled up to a well-maintained old barn. (Farmers generally take better care of their barns than they do their houses- that’s where their money is!) I knew the barn was only used part of the year and that didn’t include now; I mean, I seriously didn’t want to be disturbed. I spent some time carrying in a cooler full of ice and dry ice, a tool chest, several boxes of ‘toys’, and an assortment of pieces that I had prepared in the past week or so. I also set up a TV and a VCR (fortunately, the barn had 117VAC power). ...

After telling my folks I was going to Indianapolis for a weekend conference, I moved myself into the barn on the outlying 160 acres of my uncle Melvin’s Fort Wayne farm for a couple of days of self-bondage game-playing. I arrived late on Saturday morning, drove down a bumpy dirt road and pulled up to a well-maintained old barn. (Farmers generally take better care of their barns than they do their houses- that’s where their money is!) I knew the barn was only used part of the year and that didn’t include now; I mean, I seriously didn’t want to be disturbed. I spent some time carrying in a cooler full of ice and dry ice, a tool chest, several boxes of ‘toys’, and an assortment of pieces that I had prepared in the past week or so. I also set up a TV and a VCR (fortunately, the barn had 117VAC power). ...

Erin’s Diary - A Possible Part 3 Based on characters created by Gman Hello again! If you’ve read the first bits of my diary, then you know what I’m all about. If you haven’t, then here’s a little background on me. I’m eighteen years old in my first year of University. I’m about five feet, 7 inches tall. I have black hair that goes to my neck. I have a twenty nine inch waist, and wear a 36C bra. I don’t think I’m ever going to be a centerfold, but I’m not lonely either. I first got started on bondage when I was sixteen, when I found some movies in my parent’s things. I soon got hooked on bondage, and eventually got into self bondage. I learned a lot on my own, but it was all textbook stuff. I found a “teacher” online- her name is Terri. She’s in her early thirties, married, and has a love of bondage that rivals mine. From her I learned some techniques, tricks, and generally how to really enjoy bondage. I have yet to meet her in person, but someday I hope we will meet. ...

Part 1 I certainly can’t blame anyone else for this- I got myself into this fix all by my own damn self. Of my own free will, driven by my own over-active hormones and my own emotional shortcomings, I voluntarily and eagerly threw myself under the wheels of the express train that is Mistress Ellen. Of my own free will, I got naked and recorded a videotaped statement that basically asked Her to do anything to me if only she would bind me helpless and then I would be allowed to kiss Her ass. I really did that, and here I am. ...

Chapter 1 - Introducing Bob Kowalski Determined that this would be his finest-ever bondage toy and the stage on which he would act out the best of his incredibly erotic bondage scenes, Bob built his pillory with all the tender loving care usually lavished by a craftsman on fine furniture. This project had occupied three months of weekends and evenings: dream­ing and planning, sketching, layout, selecting wood and hardware, cutting, finishing, and finally assembly. ...

(story continues from Mistress Ellen’s Academy) Chapter 2 – Betsy Chalmers Makes a New Friend I twisted over in bed and slapped the alarm clock into stunned silence. After about thirty seconds’ worth of drowsy hesitation, I tossed back the quilt from my naked body, tumbled that body out into the cool morning air, and padded across the floor into the the bathroom and the shower. While the burbles and smells of Mister Coffee wafted in from the kitchen. I started the water and adjusted the temperature. Some Nordic polar-bear fools may enjoy ice water- not me! I hung a fresh, fluffy towel by the door and stepped into the warm spray, still not at ‘Jeopardy!’-level alertness. I woke up slowly and took my time showering, as usual I enjoy a leisurely shower while I take the opportunity to caress my feminine curves and make very sure that every part of me is clean. I make no bones about it - I enjoy caressing myself! ...

Chapter 4– Betsy Applies to become Mistress Betsy One warm, lazy afternoon, Bob and I were lying around the house. As usual, I was naked- well, except for my slippers. Bob wore only a ball-stretcher- moderate and mainly symbolic, to remind him of his self-assigned submissive position. I had moved in with him two months after we met and we had a very tight relationship going. Bondage and sex were very important, but even beyond that we were very serious about each other as friends and lovers. ...

Part One I turned my hardware business over to my partner to drive north for a couple of weeks to see our accountant. In addition to being a college friend and business advisor for years, she was a true friend and I looked forward to seeing her. Iris moved away a few years after graduation from the college we attended at the same time (she was two years ahead of me) and ‘made it big’ in a modest-sized town upstate; I stayed in the Los Angeles area and started a reasonably successful small hardware business in a charming small town not far from the San Andreas fault. Even though we were separated by enough distance to make personal contact unusual, we still kept in touch with each other because I was smart enough to hire her as our accountant; we talked every few week or so. ...

(story continues from My Mistress, My Accountant)_ Part Two The next morning, I was awakened when Mistress Iris turned on the lights; I was smiling by the time she reached the cage- I didn’t want to give her the impression I wasn’t happy to be with her! “Well, how’s my prisoner this morning?” “Happy to be your slave, my Mistress!” She let me out of the cage and walked me over to the Throne, where I at least had the use of my hands to wipe my ass. In case you haven’t had the honor, taking a healthy crap while locked in a chastity belt is a delicate operation; if you lean too far back, your ‘output’ will snag the chains that secure the belly panel to the waist belt, and it can be both messy and smell god-awful bad. You really don’t want this to happen; it’s both unpleasant to you and annoying to your Mistress, which is of course very bad. ...

(story continues from My Mistress, My Accountant 2)_ Part Three The sixth day In the morning I woke disoriented, as usual- in a nice warm bed instead of in a dog cage or on a rack as was fast becoming my usual, but still a strange bed. In addition to being in a warm bed, I was sandwiched between two warm female bodies! Unfortunately, neither of those bodies was immediately accessible, partially because they desired my submission more than they desired my organ, and also because they appeared to think that I needed a longer period of confinement in my chastity belt for training. Shit… but I’d gotten over my morning hard-on anxiety. Besides, what choice did I have? ...