Cynthia Trusscot

“All right,” said the lady at the Blood Donation Center. “the next time you can donate will be in six weeks. That’s…October 24th. Just one week before Halloween!” We both chuckled a little. Then a devilish thought came into my mind. “Do you guys do any Halloweeny type stuff? Like, costumes?” “Oh little things, decorations, cat ears. Nothing elaborate.” “well…I’d like to make a suggestion. It would be fun, and I could get you some more donations. Not sure you could do it, with the rules about donating.” I explained my idea. She was surprised, then scandalized, then thoughtful. ...

My S.O. had a Very Important Conference Call coming up. All I had heard about most of the day was, “I have that call this evening…” until I was pretty tired of it. “If you don’t stop talking about that dang conference call,” I finally threatened, “I will bug you the whole time you are on the phone, until you are totally distracted.” “Oh, please don’t do that,” she said, exasperated. ...

Nick, the cable installer, was head-down in a cramped access door in the back of a kitchen cabinet, attempting to thread a connector onto an RT-6 cable. He almost had it when– “How’s it coming?” The voice, suddenly coming from above, so startled him that he dropped the connector and banged his head painfully on the back wall of the space. Awkwardly, he worked his way backwards out of the cabinet, until he was lying on the kitchen floor at the feet of his questioner. Even annoyed as he was, he could appreciate the view of black leather high heels and smooth legs going up to a slim pencil skirt. A pretty, inquisitive face under a copious amount of blonde hair looked down at him from above cantilevered breasts. ...

In order to have some dramatic tension, most every self-bondage story utilizes one of three plot points: Either the self-tied person cannot get themselves free, or they are discovered by someone, or some other disaster befalls them. I wanted a challenge that did not involve any of those catastrophies. I decide that I would write Gromet one of my self-bondage stories, then attempt to send it while tied up. I dressed in a nice blouse and skirt, with high heels. Blonde wig, makeup and jewelry converted me into Cynthia, the perfect authoress. I sat down and knocked out a simple story of a woman in bondage, and saved it to a thumb drive. ...

“You must think this is a very… unusual request.” “No. Of course not,” Rachel replied in her professionally sympathetic voice. “We here at Gentle Rest Funeral chapel always try to accommodate the wishes of the family.” She did not mention any of the really bizarre requests that had crossed her desk since she had begun working for the family company. Things like… er, no. The well-spoken man in the client chair smiled slightly. “Actually, our lifestyle was not all that rare. There are many people in this area who share… our interests. My dear wife and I enjoyed our little play games so very much. She was the one who told me, when we got the final diagnosis from the doctors and knew how much time we had left together, how she wanted to spend eternity.” ...

A True Bondage Tale My Significant Other is a real fan of a certain entertainer. I don’t mind – he is pretty talented, and I have enjoyed watching his work and even going to the Big Apple—twice!–to see him in person. So imagine the delight when she discovered that he was coming to a nearby city for an appearance. And imagine her disappointment when she learned that the event was already sold out. ...

Meredith squeezed her slender body through the gap in the fence, reached back for her bag of ropes, then looked up at the deserted factory. She grinned. Moving quickly across the weedy lot, she found the window that had been inadequately locked. Boosting herself up, she climbed inside. The space was dim and echoing – just the sort of place where a young woman would be held, tied and gagged. ...

“What’cha doing, dear?” my Significant Other asked. “What does it look like?” I replied as I fed another sheet into the shredder. Like most families anymore, a lot of our mail consists of things best not read by others—so we shred them on general principle. I was working my way down through our monthly stack of credit card come-on’s, invitations to retirement and time-share deals, and other nonsense. “Probably destroying vital evidence, I’d guess,” she said with a mischievous grin. That sparked an idea. ...

NB: For those that might not know, the title is a song by Jimmy Buffett “I’m forty,” she said, taking a sip from her martini. I doubted it–I thought fifty was a better estimate. But she had a nice smile, a lot of dark hair, a good figure displayed by a low cut, skintight dress, a friendly attitude, and we’d had some pleasant conversation, so it didn’t matter. “Well,” I said, “It’s a good thing I’m a pirate.” ...

Story continues on from “Roberta” “Robert, would you come into my office, please?” asked Mr. Jones. Robert jumped up and followed his boss into his corner office. Mr. Jones was a pretty good guy to work for, so Robert didn’t understand the serious undertone in his voice. When they were seated on opposite sides of his desk, Mr. Jones threw a newspaper in front of Robert. “Is this story about you?” he asked. The paper was folded open to a story about a young man who had testified in an assault case—while dressed as a woman. ...

“Hi, girlfriend!” “Oh—Hi, Paula”. Paula Traggert had remained one of Helen Ryder’s friends, even after they had taken jobs as campaign coordinators for two opposing candidates in the local election. Helen had admitted to herself that it wasn’t a very important office, but she still wanted to do a good job. “Ready for the big debate?” “Not nearly. I’ve got a thousand things to do yet, so if you’ll excuse me—“ ...

Authors note: I like trains, so I wrote this. Note that it is a humor piece, not meant to be real instructions. I have been tied to railroad tracks – can’t say I recommend it. One of the perennial bondage situations is where the Dastardly Villain ties the Beautiful Heroine to the railroad tracks. This is practically the definition of Damsel in Distress. The idea originated in 1867, in a play called “Under the Gaslight”—a man was rescued by the girl in this version, but the melodramatists of the late 19th Century soon got that straightened out. ...

“Yeah, we already built a coupla starter mansions, but we wanted somethin’ with class—old, ya know” Rita the Realtor smiled tightly. “This listing certainly has that,” she said. “Built in 1709, 10 bedrooms, Great Hall, professional grade kitchen, two servants–” “Oh, yeah? Manservant and maid?” “Butler and housekeeper, actually,” said Rita. “Okay, whatever. This the garage?” “Yes. Converted stables. And there’s–” “What’s in here?” he asked, opening a door off the yard. “WOW! What’s all this? ...

“If you want me to do that, I’ll have to tie you up,” he said. She smiled and sipped wine. “No. I don’t think you will. Although I agree that I have to be tied.” He looked at her, puzzled. “How would it be if I tied myself up?” He smiled. “Ah—that would be interesting. Do you have some rope around here?” “Of course,” she responded, and rose from the loveseat. He watched her walk across the room to the hallway that led to her bedroom. In a moment she was back, carrying several pieces of soft white rope and a scarf. ...

I decided that I wanted a nice, long session of self bondage with an enforced time limit. In order to spin it out and make the experience more enjoyable, I settled on watching a movie while tied. The scene I imagined was going on a date with a handsome, but dangerous man. He’d suggest a movie I wasn’t interested in watching. He’d tie me up so that I would have to watch it with him. That I was alone and had tied myself up were mere details. ...

Gromet smiled. He had inspected the latest group of slaves for the market, watching as they were led away, their high heels clicking in counterpoint to the musical clinking of their chains. He had dealt with some internal disciplinary matters – the flogging of a couple of guards for being lenient, the monthly session on the rack of his accountant – and now he was returning to his office and Ms. Trusscot. He had left the lady hogtied on the floor next to his desk, and now he was going to deal with her. Starting with a raised-skirt, over the knee spanking. There was something very pleasant about treating a mature woman like a little girl, something that they seemed to enjoy also. If she was very naughty, perhaps he would take her down to the dungeons and give her some additional torment. ...

Blindfolded, he listened. To the tinkle of garter snaps. The whisper of sheer nylon. The sound of her moving about just beyond his reach. And he smelled: smooth leather, her sexy perfume. Finally he felt the gentle pressure of her lips on his. “Start counting, Lover,” she said. With a small chuckle, he sensed her moving away, the sound of her heels fading in the distance. To himself, he started counting: “One, two, three, four… forty eight, forty nine—FIFTY! Ready or not, here I come!” ...

“What is SHE doing here?” It was a duet. The two businesswomen – both powerful, both accomplished, both used to getting what they wanted exclusively – glared at each other from opposite sides of the conference room. The Master made no outward sign of his feelings, but secretly he was very pleased. The mutual hostility would add greatly to his experiment. “The two of you,” he said coolly, “are in competition for a certain project of mine. This project will, however, require your two companies to work together. I wish to see if you can do something that will require you to cooperate with each other under highly stressful conditions. Shall we begin?” ...

“Honey? Is this item one of yours?” asked my S.O. She is a fanatic about going through the credit card statements, looking for possible fraud. I knew what she was pointing at. A few weeks back, I had ordered an extravagantly expensive set of silicone breasts for my female persona. That the supplier was “Tranny Boutique” was another giveaway. “Gee,” I said slowly, “That might be a case of—embezzlement. Maybe you had better check with our comptroller, Cynthia,” I replied. “I’ll send her to you.” ...

“Shhh!” “Why?” Samantha asked. “You said no one was here” “No one is here,” said Tony, “But we still don’t want to make a lot of noise, OK?” Still, Samantha couldn’t completely stop giggling. There was something silly about breaking into a mortuary in the middle of the night, just to see what being in a coffin was like. At last, Tony got the back door open. If the rest of the place was as creepy as this back basement door, Samantha thought, she might change her mind. They tiptoed down a narrow corridor that smelled of must and chemicals. Then they emerged into a larger room. Tony struck a match, and lit the gaslights. ...

“Shhh!” “Why?” Samantha asked. “You said no one was here” “No one is here,” said Tony, “But we still don’t want to make a lot of noise, OK?” Still, Samantha couldn’t completely stop giggling. There was something silly about breaking into a mortuary in the middle of the night, just to see what being in a coffin was like. At last, Tony got the back door open. If the rest of the place was as creepy as this back basement door, Samantha thought, she might change her mind. They tiptoed down a narrow corridor that smelled of must and chemicals. Then they emerged into a larger room. Tony struck a match, and lit the gaslights. ...

The current economy has caused a lot of havoc with families. In many households, the male is no longer working, while the lady of the house is the one bringing home the bacon and winning the bread. It was the same in our place. In fact, one day my Significant Other made a crack that I was her ‘wife’. Although I was staying at home, cleaning and cooking, that hurt a little. It brought to mind all those ‘50’s sitcoms with the glamorous housewife taking care of things while the husband was away. Then I thought: Dresses, high heels, fancy hairdo, pearls. Sounds good, actually. ...

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!” ...

This story was an entry into the 2010 Winter Fetish Story Contest “No one attends a garden party in a shiny black dress!” exclaimed Darla. “Rules like that are made to be broken”, said Jeffery. “You’ll look fabulous. Now pour that gorgeous body of yours into this!” Darla had to admit that the garment he held was very sexy. A long sleeved, high necked, floor length dress in shiny black. ...

I was spending an idle afternoon on-line when I hit on a chat site, I tie up F’s. I checked the profile: A man who did what he called “directed self-bondage” CynDy: “What is your opinion of over-the-hill transvestites?” ITieFs: “The gender thing is a bit off-putting, but it might be OK” I told him that I could pass for femme (at least on-line) and he agreed to give me a tie. I quickly went out and dressed as a woman: Blonde, black lace blouse, calf-length red satin skirt, and platform pumps with six inch heels. I grabbed my collection of rope and hurried back to my computer. ...

I was spending an idle afternoon on-line when I hit on a chat site, I tie up F’s. I checked the profile: A man who did what he called “directed self-bondage” CynDy: “What is your opinion of over-the-hill transvestites?” ITieFs: “The gender thing is a bit off-putting, but it might be OK” I told him that I could pass for femme (at least on-line) and he agreed to give me a tie. I quickly went out and dressed as a woman: Blonde, black lace blouse, calf-length red satin skirt, and platform pumps with six inch heels. I grabbed my collection of rope and hurried back to my computer. ...

Robert was in the grip of Desire. It had been rising in him all day. Now, late in the evening, it vibrated within him. It was a hot, gnawing need within him. He had been determined to resist it, but it was there, always there. Finally, with a feeling like collapsing walls, he gave in to it. It was already late, but he thought that might work to his advantage. The decision made, he went back to the his bedroom. The room had two closets, for when two people lived in the one-bedroom apartment. He lived alone, with his “friend”. ...

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. ...

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. ...