Cynthia Harder on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Hell Ride

Mon, 21 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

My partner and I were laughing about some of the silly things that happened during our college years, and somehow the subject of “Hell Rides” came up. She had gone to school in central Michigan, where rides to Hell could actually take place, but that wasn’t what she meant.

“Some of my friends once took this girl out away from the campus and dumped her. She had to walk home in the dark! It was hilarious!”

(Almost) True Bondage Tale

Wed, 03 Feb 2010 00:00:00 +0000

A long time back, I dated a crazy girl. Call her Mary. She was nice looking, with a certain elegance about her. She also like to sit in the front seat of my car and neck, which was, at the time, a new experience and the thing I liked especially about her. She had a mean streak in her, though. She would play dirty tricks on me.

One evening, we were at my apartment, and one thing led to another. We were pleasantly engaged on my couch when, with no warning, she pinched! me. Hard. It hurt. I said, “Hey”, and picked up where I had been. A couple of minutes later, she did it again! Ow! squared! Not to mention, very distracting.

Sunday at the House

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Madame Boulez picked up the French-style telephone on her desk. “Mistress Anne? Will you bring Miss Ming and Lady DeLay to my office, please? Yes, properly prepared.”

It was Sunday afternoon in the House of Madame Boulez. Punishment Day. Discipline had to be maintained over her employees, and it must – it would – be strictly enforced.

A few moments later, she heard high heels coming up the stairs to her attic office. In through the door came Mistress Anne, the House domatrice. She pushed two girls ahead of her: Ming was a small woman of Asian ancestry, who could be anything from a Tokyo schoolgirl to a submissive geisha. Currently she was wearing a short black silk robe with red dragons on it, stockings and heels. Her long black hair erupted from a topknot and cascaded down her back. Lady DeLay was an older woman who projected elegance and class, even when clad in black bra, garter belt, fishnets and five inch patent heels, as she was now. Both women had their hands tied behind their backs with the velvet ribbons used by Mistress Anne when bringing girls to Madame. Both had anxious looks on their beautiful faces, and why not? They were going to be punished by Madame.

Roberta's Experience

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:00:00 +0000

“Roberta” checked her makeup in the rear view mirror of her car, and quelled her nervousness. She had corresponded with “Frankly2B” for awhile. He was fascinated by the idea of tying up women, but hadn’t found anyone who shared his passion. He and Roberta had corresponded, played some on-line roleplaying games, and finally, after many entreaties on his part, she had agreed to meet.

Now she sat in her car in an otherwise empty parking lot, looking at a car that had just blinked its lights in the prearranged signal. This was it. She was about to spend the evening as a man’s captive. She opened her door, swung her legs out, and, high heels clicking, walked to the other car.

Barbies in Bondage

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 00:00:00 +0000

One morning, Barbie woke up as—Barbie.

Everything in her life had been normal up until then. She had played with Barbies as a little girl, and had badgered her parents into getting her the Barbie Dream Condo, the Barbie sports car, and the Barbie airplane. Then she had grown up, gone to college, gotten a predictably boring job, and had forgotten all about her doll collection.

Until this morning, when she woke up in a very hard bed. Solid plastic, in fact. She stood up, and staggered about a little. Suddenly she realized that her body had been re-shaped. Now she had two big pointed breasts (with no nipples) and an absurdly narrow waist. Her legs were incredibly long—almost half her body height. Her skin was smooth and a uniform beige,. And her hair was thick, blonde, lustrous, and hung in waves well down the middle of her back.

Gromet Deals with a Bad Author

Tue, 23 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000

This is what happened after a mischevious author sent her stories to me several times - LOL. Gromet

Gromet rose from behind his aircraft-carrier sized executive desk to greet the woman. “Ms Cynthia,” he said as he bowed over her gloved hand.

“Mr. Gromet,” she responded. She was tall, and good sized—not fat, but well built and shapely. Her blonde hair was elegantly coiffed, her mature years carefully concealed by expert makeup. She wore a suit with a short skirt and high heels, showing off her long legs.

Gentleman's Delemma

Wed, 10 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Darcy Trumbrill danced down the wide steps of Bermondsley Plantation and headed down the path towards the Dark Swamp.

Angelina…

He had first seen her at the Spring Cotillion. Honey-blonde hair falling in cascades over her bare shoulders. Her shapely figure in a pink and white ball gown. Her wide eyes, blue as a summer sky over Mississippi, her sensuous mouth – all these things and more drew him to her from across the polished dance floor. But for naught. Her beautiful eyes would not meet his. She wouldn’t speak more than a few, dismissive words, no matter how much charm he applied. He had gone home frustrated, but not angry – he could never be angry with Angelina.

Jamie’s Day

Thu, 20 Nov 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Jamie ducked her head over her keyboard and, from the corner of her eye, snuck another look at her office mate. Cynthia looked especially attractive that day. She was wearing a pretty powder blue skirted suit, with a silk scarf encircled her throat and filled her plunging décolletage. Cynthia caught her looking, and smiled to herself as she continued typing–a task made difficult by her long pink fingernails. She extended her great legs past her desk, showing off her sheer stockings and beige high heeled pumps Jamie glanced down at herself, glad that she had worn her sexy grey business dress and patent high heels.

A Noose for the Lady

Sun, 31 Aug 2008 00:00:00 +0000

NOTE: The author wishes to point out that, while being hanged is an erotic fantasy to many, it should never, NEVER be attempted for real! The human neck is too fragile to play at death. The story is presented here as a fantasy story and in no way should the scenes contained be attempted in real life.

“You’re a crazy lady, you know that?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, suggestively. “So– what are you going to do about it?”

The Rack

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 00:00:00 +0000

I am a transvestite who enjoys BDSM. Many years ago, I built an automatic rack for self torment. The device consisted of a 1 x 10 inch plank, nine feet long, that was supported by bookshelves along one wall of my apartment. At the foot end a piece of one by three pine was bolted to the plank longwise, set on edge. I cut notches in this piece about 1-1/2 inches deep. It looked somewhat like a sawblade parallel to the plank.

Claudine

Tue, 26 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Claudine leaned back in her expensive executive chair. One of the privileges of being the youngest vice-president of D—— & Cie. was having to work late. It went along with the sumptuously furnished private office. She turned to look out the window at the view of the glittering city. The view was pleasant – but the view from the President’s office was better.

She glanced at her watch. Ten. She had one more thing to accomplish, and she would be done for the week. Taking off her suit jacket, she hung it on the hook by her office door. She was just turning back to her desk when she heard the noise.

Mary Louise

Mon, 21 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Mary Louise came home from her dull, boring secretarial job to her dull, boring garden apartment. Her random reflections on the dullness and boringness of her life suddenly stopped when she saw the door to her apartment was ajar. She was certain she had locked it – she always did. Cautiously, she stepped through, closing it silently behind her. She looked about. Some of the things in her living / dining / kitchen area had been disturbed. Papers were lying on the floor. There was a can of beer on her dining table. She listened. A distant mutter of voices could be heard from her bedroom. She tiptoed closer.

Ex-e-Cutie

Mon, 03 Sep 2007 00:00:00 +0000

“You want to be – what?” Asked Tom.

“Executed,” replied Mandy forthrightly. The four men of Tommy’s Tornadoes paintball team looked at each other with expressions ranging from stunned bemusement to careful consideration.

“I don’t want to die, for heaven’s sakes,” the Goth girl went on. “But for reasons of my own I want to experience being executed – stood up against a wall and shot, bap-bap-bap. You guys are paintballers – you’d make a perfect firing squad.”

Two for the Gallows

Mon, 16 Jul 2007 00:00:00 +0000

(please note that this story does not contain a death scene)

Warden Jenkens sighed heavily, and once again consulted his watch. He thought this was a total waste of time, just a stalling tactic. But the judge had been positive: “Last requests should be honored, if its practicable. Theirs is. But take ’em to that boutique on Main Street – that’ll be close to the Public Square.”

So here they were, himself, the Boutique owner, and the two – convicts. He had to admit they didn’t look much like condemned prisoners right now. The Boutique owner, an attractive, middle-aged woman, had done their makeup and hair. Cynthia, the bigger, more mature one, had gone for a flamboyant look: lots of eyeshadow and bright lipstick. Jacqui, the smaller, cuter one, had been more restrained. Still, the warden admitted, they both looked good. The Boutique owner had done their hair, also, but here the Warden had been firm: “Keep it off their necks.” Cynthia had hers in a wild display of curls, while Jacqui had a flip that would not interfere with the noose at all.