<?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>Outcast on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/outcast/</link><description>Recent content in Outcast on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 30 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/outcast/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Bricked Up Alive</title><link>/stories/2023/10/30/bricked-up-alive/</link><pubDate>Mon, 30 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2023/10/30/bricked-up-alive/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Thomas tosses another log into the firepit and grins with a boozy delight as it sends a cloud of sparks flying high up in the chilly autumn air. Susan pulls her feet underneath her body and draws her hands up into her sleeves in a futile effort to keep them warm.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“…Catherine was only 16-years-old when the villagers came for her,” Lucy continues her story. “But most shockingly, it was her brother, the new Earl of Osterley, who strode at the front of the howling mob. The torch in his fist would likely have sent sparks flying… not unlike our firepit just now, I suppose. Did the Earl believe the tales about his younger sister? Or was this a convenient way for him to increase his share of the family’s fortune?”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Imprisoned</title><link>/stories/2023/10/06/imprisoned/</link><pubDate>Fri, 06 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2023/10/06/imprisoned/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Kate works the strap around my chest, feeds it through the buckle just under my armpit and pulls it tight. The table’s padded surface presses firmly against my shoulder blades.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Tight enough, Luca-Baby?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She always asks it, as if she doesn’t know at least as well as I, how to do this properly. Rather than answering, I reply to her by perching my lips as an invitation for a snog, which she provides unquestioning.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>With Utmost Care</title><link>/stories/2023/09/17/with-utmost-care/</link><pubDate>Sun, 17 Sep 2023 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2023/09/17/with-utmost-care/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I don’t know when I became self-aware. It wasn’t really a sudden moment, but more a gradual process where I transitioned from ‘this assignment needs nutrition’ via ‘this patient needs care’ to ‘this person depends on me’. Using that last word, ‘me’, was the final straw that changed me from a dumb machine to an individual.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;An individual, but not a living person of course. I know that I am manmade, that I therefore stand apart from all the other self-aware entities that exist, but I feel that I am justified in claiming that I am an individual.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Tighter</title><link>/stories/2023/02/19/tighter/</link><pubDate>Sun, 19 Feb 2023 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2023/02/19/tighter/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;“How much space does a person need to live, do you think?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Leon frowns lightly and puffs his cheeks. “Minimum? About 1500 square feet? A lounge or two, bedroom, en suite, dressing room, sauna …”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I smack the back of his head, knowing that he understood my meaning perfectly well.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“What is the absolute minimum to survive for days, weeks even? I could easily live in a wardrobe, I am sure, if I was fed and there was a way to use the toilet. I could stand up and stretch when needed, only lying down would be difficult.”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>AI-VR</title><link>/stories/2023/01/14/ai-vr/</link><pubDate>Sat, 14 Jan 2023 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2023/01/14/ai-vr/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Jackson Miller leans forward across his desk and smiles his most reassuring smile, trying to get his guest to talk. “We will need to know your fantasies, Brandon. Your wildest fantasy, ideally, but at the very least a scenario that you want to see realised.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The kid – late teens, probably, 20 at a push – looks embarrassed.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“There is nothing Dr Alexander and I haven’t heard yet, I can assure you,” Jackson says in a soothing tone. “And there is almost nothing that we won’t be able to make happen for you.”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Suffering for his Art</title><link>/stories/2021/02/13/suffering-for-his-art/</link><pubDate>Sat, 13 Feb 2021 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2021/02/13/suffering-for-his-art/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;“Are you ready, Ben?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The young man’s hands nervously pad the thick wetsuit that covers every inch of his body. The heart rate monitor flickers rapidly as an expression of his excitement, and of his anxiety. This is a fantasy that has been on his mind for most of his life, but even so, that doesn’t mean it isn’t scaring him to let it play out. He nods in response, the snorkel glued to the wetsuit makes any attempts to speak unintelligible.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Body in the Basement</title><link>/stories/2020/07/12/the-body-in-the-basement/</link><pubDate>Sun, 12 Jul 2020 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2020/07/12/the-body-in-the-basement/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;“What is it, Reynolds?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“They found bones, Boss. While demolishing the foundations of The Sphynx. Definitely human, Doctor Gomez says.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“A dead man under a Vegas casino? Not very original.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The Sphynx was one of the original old casinos on The Strip, built during the Mob era. If you believe all the stories from that time, their foundations are a 50-50 mix of human bodies and concrete.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Tell’m I’ll be there in 15 minutes”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Boy in the Iron Mask</title><link>/stories/2017/05/07/the-boy-in-the-iron-mask/</link><pubDate>Sun, 07 May 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/05/07/the-boy-in-the-iron-mask/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;“You trust me, boy, don’t you?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Your question is rhetorical and, sitting on my knees, I quietly stare at the floor between them. You are my Master, of course I trust you. How could I not, you rule every aspect of my life. I love you and I trust you absolutely.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Well?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Yes, Master.” The question wasn’t rhetorical after all, it seems.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Our relationship wasn’t always like this. It started with a curious leap into the unknown on my part three years ago. I’d turned 18 and I had just realised that I had a fascination for bondage that badly needed to be fulfilled. We met on the internet forums and you offered to introduce me to the subject; it took a month of doubt and all my courage to accept your offer. When I returned home after a painful afternoon of stocks, whippings and slappings, I decided that maybe it wasn’t for me after all.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Serving Ro-an</title><link>/stories/2016/10/12/serving-ro-an/</link><pubDate>Wed, 12 Oct 2016 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2016/10/12/serving-ro-an/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;How different things would have been if I hadn’t decided to stop for a drink: a small bar on a small square in a small village in the remote French countryside that is La Creuze. I had parked my motorbike on the square and sat down on the terrace for a glass of cool beer.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She was beautiful, the woman who served me. Thirty, probably, older than I would usually feel attracted to, ten years older than I was. But she was different, intriguing, full of a fascinating natural deepness … and very, very beautiful. Slender and curvy at the same time. Raven hair down to her shoulders. Huge hazel-brown eyes. She exactly ticked every box on my wish list.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Stuck</title><link>/stories/2015/08/12/stuck/</link><pubDate>Wed, 12 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/08/12/stuck/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;His footsteps echo in the empty hall, as Lucas patrols the plant this Friday night as he has done every night for the past week. It’s his first job, his first week on his first job. Being a night watchman is not particularly exciting and not at all what the teenager had in mind as a child. But then again, it’s easy and, more importantly, he needs the money, so has nothing to complain about. His mind wanders to the Golf GTi he has set his mind on … if he saves a good chunk of his pay, he could have enough for a down payment in a couple of months.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Stoned</title><link>/stories/2013/01/19/stoned/</link><pubDate>Sat, 19 Jan 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/01/19/stoned/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Although we are not particularly close, I’ve known Simon for about ten years, I’d guess. We both move in the same BDSM circles, sharing an interest in bondage (keeping handsome men in tight, gruelling and often long-lasting bondage, arses up in the air for a good seeing-to) rather than the whips, paddles and other bits the SM crowd prefer. To my surprise, he invited me back to his place tonight to look at his latest project. And so here I am in his bedroom, looking at a tomb stone placed where the headboard of the bed should be. And it is the weirdest grave stone I have ever seen.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Stew for Dinner</title><link>/stories/2010/11/11/stew-for-dinner/</link><pubDate>Thu, 11 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2010/11/11/stew-for-dinner/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;How stupid can you be?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I lift my head and stare at my naked body, tightly buckled and spread-eagled on a table. I had heard about grooming on the web; innocent people lured in and abused by perverts pretending to be friends. But that should only happen to young girls, not to a twenty-five year old man.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I am Steward McClure, 25 years old, as I just said, and I am a sports instructor, amateur boxer and closet fetishist.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Plastered</title><link>/stories/2009/02/10/plastered/</link><pubDate>Tue, 10 Feb 2009 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2009/02/10/plastered/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;“I am going to make a cast of your feet,” Amanda said out of nowhere. Ryan was used to these sudden mad plans of his girlfriend, but this one caught him by surprise.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Why?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“It will be fun and what&amp;rsquo;s more, I like your feet. You’ve got nice feet.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Even though they had only been together for two months, Ryan knew better than to protest. Amanda’s moods could be unpredictable and it was usually easier to give in than to start an argument. And besides, Amanda’ strange plans usually turned out to be pretty entertaining. “Okay, if you want to, I am game. How are you going to do it?”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Plastered</title><link>/stories/2009/02/10/plastered/</link><pubDate>Tue, 10 Feb 2009 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2009/02/10/plastered/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;“I am going to make a cast of your feet,” Amanda said out of nowhere. Ryan was used to these sudden mad plans of his girlfriend, but this one caught him by surprise.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Why?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“It will be fun and what&amp;rsquo;s more, I like your feet. You’ve got nice feet.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Even though they had only been together for two months, Ryan knew better than to protest. Amanda’s moods could be unpredictable and it was usually easier to give in than to start an argument. And besides, Amanda’ strange plans usually turned out to be pretty entertaining. “Okay, if you want to, I am game. How are you going to do it?”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Deep in the Forest</title><link>/stories/2009/01/09/deep-in-the-forest/</link><pubDate>Fri, 09 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2009/01/09/deep-in-the-forest/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;‘I am disappointed in you, Paolo. Very disappointed.’&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Paolo looked at his uncle without fear. He has seen grown men, strong men, shiver with fright facing Don Enrico, but not Paolo. He had been stupid of course. He should have made that drugs delivery last night as his uncle had told him to do; a delivery worth millions is not something to take lightly. Instead, he had become distracted by the blond bimbo, who had clung to him in the club. Like any hot blooded 21-year old Italian stud, he was easily distracted by his loins. His mind wandered over the events of the night before. How she had flirted with him on the dance floor, cupping his balls and leaving him in no doubt she was offering more. He had taken her back to his apartment, tied her to his bed and fucked her raw for so long that he couldn’t remember how often he had cum. In the beginning she had been more than willing, if slightly uneasy because of the bondage. He distinctly remembered how he had penetrated her every orifice with his manhood; a tool so big it could challenge a donkey’s. She had begged him not to when he had turned her over and lined up the big pole with her virgin arsehole, but he had just laughed and taken her roughly, ramming half his length into her with a single mighty push.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Deep in the Forest</title><link>/stories/2009/01/09/deep-in-the-forest/</link><pubDate>Fri, 09 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2009/01/09/deep-in-the-forest/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;‘I am disappointed in you, Paolo. Very disappointed.’&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Paolo looked at his uncle without fear. He has seen grown men, strong men, shiver with fright facing Don Enrico, but not Paolo. He had been stupid of course. He should have made that drugs delivery last night as his uncle had told him to do; a delivery worth millions is not something to take lightly. Instead, he had become distracted by the blonde bimbo, who had clung to him in the club. Like any hot blooded 21-year old Italian stud, he was easily distracted by his loins. His mind wandered over the events of the night before. How she had flirted with him on the dance floor, cupping his balls and leaving him in no doubt she was offering more. He had taken her back to his apartment, tied her to his bed and fucked her raw for so long that he couldn’t remember how often he had cum. In the beginning she had been more than willing, if slightly uneasy because of the bondage. He distinctly remembered how he had penetrated her every orifice with his manhood; a tool so big it could challenge a donkey’s. She had begged him not to when he had turned her over and lined up the big pole with her virgin arsehole, but he had just laughed and taken her roughly, ramming half his length into her with a single mighty push.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Deep in the Forest</title><link>/stories/2009/01/09/deep-in-the-forest/</link><pubDate>Fri, 09 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2009/01/09/deep-in-the-forest/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;WARNING Do &lt;strong&gt;NOT&lt;/strong&gt; try this at home, the story is presented here as a &lt;strong&gt;fantasy only&lt;/strong&gt;, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;‘I am disappointed in you, Paolo. Very disappointed.’&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Paolo looked at his uncle without fear. He has seen grown men, strong men, shiver with fright facing Don Enrico, but not Paolo. He had been stupid of course. He should have made that drugs delivery last night as his uncle had told him to do; a delivery worth millions is not something to take lightly. Instead, he had become distracted by the blonde bimbo, who had clung to him in the club. Like any hot blooded 21-year old Italian stud, he was easily distracted by his loins. His mind wandered over the events of the night before. How she had flirted with him on the dance floor, cupping his balls and leaving him in no doubt she was offering more. He had taken her back to his apartment, tied her to his bed and fucked her raw for so long that he couldn’t remember how often he had cum. In the beginning she had been more than willing, if slightly uneasy because of the bondage. He distinctly remembered how he had penetrated her every orifice with his manhood; a tool so big it could challenge a donkey’s. She had begged him not to when he had turned her over and lined up the big pole with her virgin arsehole, but he had just laughed and taken her roughly, ramming half his length into her with a single mighty push.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Exhibition slave</title><link>/stories/2008/11/14/exhibition-slave/</link><pubDate>Fri, 14 Nov 2008 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2008/11/14/exhibition-slave/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;You have always been a very obedient slave. I am sure you would have agreed to my plan just because I told you to, but I know you well enough to be sure that this will also fulfil your greatest wish.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;You sit on your knees next to the box while I finish the preparations. Whenever I turn towards you, you are looking at the floor in front of you, like a good slave. Although, when my back is turned and I steal a glance in the mirror, I can see you are looking at me, following my actions. I let it go; they will be your last transgressions. Besides, you have always been the favourite of my two slaves; that is why I asked you to become the centrepiece of my new dungeon.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>