<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Darkest Fantasy on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/darkest-fantasy/</link><description>Recent content in Darkest Fantasy on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Wed, 04 Apr 2007 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/darkest-fantasy/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Wendy’s Trial</title><link>/stories/2007/04/04/wendys-trial/</link><pubDate>Wed, 04 Apr 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/04/04/wendys-trial/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Phil glanced around the bedroom, giving his preparations one last look over, checking that he’d missed nothing. Everything seemed to be in order. The bed had been the worst part, dragging the heavy frame away from the wall had been a real effort, but it was now positioned near the centre of the room, directly under the heavy eyebolt mounted in the ceiling. It was a lovely bed, with one of those frames of heavy wrought iron, although now it’s looks were somewhat disfigured by the wooden mounting posts attached to the centre of the head and foot board.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Crash</title><link>/stories/2006/06/23/crash/</link><pubDate>Fri, 23 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2006/06/23/crash/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;‘Oh
god’ I think despairingly, giving another tug with my wrists, hoping against
hope that somehow the bonds will come free this time. Of course they don’t and
I slump back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, a dull horror gripping me as
the minutes tick by.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I
can’t believe I’ve got myself into this mess, and my husband, how the hell
am I going to explain this to him when he gets home. He’ll never understand,
not with his born-again Christian beliefs. Oh god, this is going to be so
humiliating.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Crash</title><link>/stories/2006/06/23/crash/</link><pubDate>Fri, 23 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2006/06/23/crash/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;‘Oh
god’ I think despairingly, giving another tug with my wrists, hoping against
hope that somehow the bonds will come free this time. Of course they don’t and
I slump back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, a dull horror gripping me as
the minutes tick by.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I
can’t believe I’ve got myself into this mess, and my husband, how the hell
am I going to explain this to him when he gets home. He’ll never understand,
not with his born-again Christian beliefs. Oh god, this is going to be so
humiliating.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Careful What You Wish For Claire</title><link>/stories/2006/05/27/careful-what-you-wish-for-claire/</link><pubDate>Sat, 27 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2006/05/27/careful-what-you-wish-for-claire/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;It had been several weeks since my last bondage adventure; a lack of time and the demands of my course meant that I hadn’t been able to indulge my favourite past time. However that was going to change this weekend; I’d completed my last class project this week, handing it in to the lecturer two days early, and had no other pressing commitments to meet.
In addition to this, my housemate Amy was going away for the weekend. She was off to see her boyfriend in Exeter and was leaving mid-afternoon on Friday, not planning to return till Sunday night. This meant I’d have the house to myself for just over two days and could indulge in some serious, and possibly noisy, self-bondage.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>