<?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>Rubberwolf on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/rubberwolf/</link><description>Recent content in Rubberwolf on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:47 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/rubberwolf/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Jessica's Pokemon Adventure</title><link>/stories/2019/01/11/jessicas-pokemon-adventure/</link><pubDate>Fri, 11 Jan 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/01/11/jessicas-pokemon-adventure/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 1&lt;/strong&gt;
(A Window Worker Story)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The majority of business students at Jessica’s university had decided to make their fortunes in the city upon graduating. The usual corporate types who buy and sell on the stock markets, shifting piles of clients’ money around in a glorified gambling house, betting that China would not do as well as Russia in trade negotiations with the West, or that the new Alaskan oil field would produce a tidy return for its investors. Bankers, financiers and the usual cliché that graduates could look forward to with a 1:1 degree that Jessica was, unless she messed up badly on the final term, projected to get. However profitable this life promised to be, it held little interest for her. No, the way Jessica saw her talents being used were in the production field.
Although many Western countries manufactured a variety of high tech engineering products, like cars and satellites, the real opportunities were in the East. Japan had enjoyed a high level of economic growth for some time. Malaysia was fast catching up and many high tech metal and carbon fibre components had been produced in these countries. China had looked promising for a time, but their growth had stalled. However, oil and gas from Russian pipelines, combined with minerals and natural resources from Africa, which China had been grooming since the 50s, meant that when the country eventually got its butt into gear, it would be very dangerous indeed. So since this was where the future was, this would be where Jessica would be. She had therefore learned several languages. Although her Malay was a little weak, she was fluent in Japanese and Chinese Mandarin and was quite strong in several other dialects and languages. She was therefore confident, having also spent a gap year working in a global cycle manufacturing plant in Asia that she could land the career that she wanted when she qualified. Her parents had also travelled widely when she was growing up, which is why Jessica was able to pick up languages quickly.
In addition to study, Jessica spent her free time enjoying the benefits of a university town with broad range of societies. Because she was studying at Cambridge she might have expected to join a rowing club. However, cycling is quite popular in the city and so she joined the Cambridge Union Cycling Club, who would do regular rides into the fens. This would involve a midweek evening ride of about two hours and then a Sunday ride of four or five hours, or around fifty miles. Somehow these rides always ended up at a pub in the middle of nowhere. She also liked running and had won a few medals with the running society. Between the running and the cycling, it was fair to say that her legs were quite strong. She also indulged her creative side by joining the Cambridge Union Pottery Society. CUPS enjoyed a reasonably equipped studio in the basement of one of the colleges, with three electric wheels, a couple of kick wheels, wooden benches, a drying cupboard, a large front loading kiln and enough raw materials to mix up a wide variety of glazes. Jessica like to throw large pots on the wheel. Centring and throwing 12 kg of clay at a time takes a lot of effort and this helped her to develop a reasonable amount of strength in her arms and actually helped to develop her abs. This diversity of activities, along with long hours of study, meant that as well as gaining a good degree, she was popular, had a good circle of friends and was quite fit.
During the final year Jessica applied for several positions and also showed her face at the college milk round, where companies come to the university in an employment fair, to attract the brightest and the best that Cambridge had to offer. Tanaka was high on Jessica’s wish list, as they were a long established international manufacturer specialising in electronics. As well as the usual consumer items, Tanaka also boasted a robotics division and a medical division. The fact that this company diversified into several branches meant that there was plenty of opportunity for a young, ambitious woman like Jessica. Another reason why she was targeting a Japanese company, who had traditionally safeguarded the high ranking jobs for the Japanese, was that a falling birth rate on the mainland had opened up avenues which were usually closed to Westerners.
Jessica shared her dorms with Holly. Holly, although bright, was easily led and influenced. A bit ditsy at times, but still great for a girls night out and generally a good housemate. Jessica had just finished up Tanakas application and had gone into the lounge for a coffee.
“God Holly, I have got so much work to do. But this is a dream job. What about you?”
“I don’t have much on at the moment. I have a few jobs that look interesting. I have also applied for Tanaka. All of these applications are pretty much all the same, so it should be a matter of just copying a lot of the text from one of the other forms,” Holly offered.
Jessica considered for several moments before answering.
“No I think I will do an individual application. If you could have a look at the last one and let me know what you think I would be grateful though. I have pretty much completed it. Just a silly psychological questionnaire to fill out and it’s done. That would allow me to go over my assignment one last time before moving onto the class project for Friday.”
Holly readily agreed and within minutes had taken Jessica’s place at the computer looking at the multiple choice questionnaire. She must have done a reasonable job, Jessica mused as she sat on the plane, some six months later, heading for one of Tanakas production facilities on a small pacific island. Not only had Jessica got the job, but Holly had flown out a few weeks earlier. So, she mused, her proof reading and ideas for Hollies application must have been reasonable. Holly was not in the production facility though, so she may not be able to hook up with her old room mate straight away. Looking out of the window the view was not overly inspiring. It was a typically self-contained, workers island, where everything belonged to the company. It was similar, in many respects, to the industrial towns of the 19th century, but with better beaches and better workers cottages. In any event, having Tanaka on her CV would not hurt and it offered a great deal of opportunity for the graduate.
Strangely, when it came, the interview had been remarkably straightforward. She had splashed out on an interview suit from a second hand shop, in a deep green that showed off her eyes to the best, making them appear larger and deeper. Her long black hair held up by a chop stick arrangement, allowed her freshly curled hair to cascade down her neck, while simple drop gold ear rings subtly stated her elegance. The short skirt helped to show off her long legs, as did the three inch black court shoe. Overall, she was pleased with the effect.
It had taken a reasonable effort to get her to this stage, starting with the application form, she had then carried out a telephone interview where she had to answer a series of stock questions. She was then invited to a group interview at the regional offices, where along with thirty people, she was to spend the day performing various group related tasks that eventually led her to be shortlisted for a more traditional panel interview the following week.
The panel itself consisted of a regional manager, a member of the HR team and then another manager from, well she was not sure, but she would say that he was from the corporate side of the business. A probing series of questions filled the next hour as Jessica put all of her communication skills to best effect. They asked her about her course, her plans and career goals, as well as her sport and interest in fitness. They seemed particularly pleased with her running prowess and felt that she may be a good candidate to join Tanaka.
This was confirmed in writing shortly after and now, just a few weeks after the interview, Jessica Reynolds found herself looking out of the window of the twin engine turbo propped aircraft as it lost height and banked on its approach to a small airfield on the North of an Island owned by the company. To say that she had been whisked off of her feet was an understatement. She had very little time to arrange for furniture to be sold, or gifted to her friends, while her entire life had been crammed into two suitcases. Twenty four years of life and all that she had to show for it was compacted down into the hold of a small aircraft, her life lost amidst the luggage of the three passengers who she shared the cabin with. She idly wondered if they had an equally fast life changing experience. They had made pleasant conversation about nothing in particular, but the talk had quickly subsided now that they approached their destination. It had been a gruelling series of flights to get her this far, flying half way around the world before eventually landing in Tokyo, staying overnight in a hotel near the airport, before climbing onto a charter flight out to one of the islands owned by Tanaka.
The island itself, as far as she could see, looked quite modern. Although she had watched the corporate videos, she had still expected palm trees and dirt roads. There were palm trees, but the roads looked well paved. In addition to this she could make out the urban sprawl of modern workers accommodations, shops and parks.
The aircraft banked again and lined up for final approach. As it banked she could make out industrial buildings and warehouses rushing towards her as the small aircraft fell from the sky. As the plane levelled out she eventually lost site of the crystal clear turquoise sea, to be replaced by a yellow flash of sand and then the final descent onto tarmac, jarring her from her comfortable contemplation as buildings on the other side of the airport rushed past to the sound of the engines and the sharp squeal of tyres.
Eventually the headlong rush slowed and a simple one story terminal building came into site as the plane taxied closer, stopping at its designated parking area. As the plane eventually stopped Jessica unbuckled her seat and retrieved her hand luggage. She hated waiting, but knew that she would be unloaded and deposited at the speed set by the crew of the aircraft as they completed various checks before leaving the cabin and opening the door to the front of the aircraft, having first watched a small vehicle approach and align its boarding steps up with the aircraft door. The peace and quiet were now shattered as she disembarked and worked her way through customs, retrieving her luggage beforehand and, along with the other passengers, being met at the terminal by a small Japanese woman holding a placard containing Jessica’s name, along with those of the other passengers.
She had expected heat and she had expected some discomfort, having come directly from a moderately cool Cambridge, to a much warmer Japanese mainland airport, she thought she knew what the climate would be like. However, the southward journey to the actual island felt like the temperature had ramped up to gas mark 5 on the oven and she was blasted by a wall of heat as she stepped out of the plane. This was the height of summer though and she had been expecting something of this nature. But reality was always different to your expectations and she mentally groaned as she noted dark sweat patches start to form under her arms.
Another hour in a seven seater car saw Jessica the third person to be deposited at her lodgings on the other side of the island. She was met by another company representative and shown to her apartment complex which boasted a swimming pool and, according to the representative, a small shopping area on the other side of the complex. Jessica was too tired to care. Having said her goodbyes to her guide, who would come to collect her the following day for her orientation, Jessica found herself showered, wearing a comfortable light cotton nightie and collapsing into bed.
Jessica awoke in the early morning with the sunrise just pouring through the open window of her apartment. She had not pulled the blinds and that was the reason for her early awakening. Leaning over she grabbed her mobile phone to check the time. At the moment her phone was quite useless, but once she could set up WiFi she should be able to access the internet. She was not sure about telephone contracts on the island, but would ask about this during her orientation. The apartment had the feel of a hotel suite, as well as a guest information brochure. Reading through the brochure enabled her to access the employee social internet on her phone, but could not access the employee sections of the company site until she had completed her induction.
During breakfast of a fruit salad from the basket she had found, as a part of her welcome pack in the kitchen, she had watched the news while she marshalled her thoughts for the coming day. The international news was the usual mixture of wars and politics. The local news held more interest. Jessica had been following the story, since she left England, of a Japanese athlete who had been struck by meningitis. She had become a quadruple amputee. Jessica could not imagine what she was going through, but she was recovering slowly and she had stated that she intended to resume her running career and enter the Paralympics. Jessica could not help but be inspired.
After a longish shower, where she took care to shave her legs and arm pits, Jessica sorted through the outfits that she had unpacked yesterday. A simple lightweight skirt and jacket in light choral, combined with an ivory blouse gave the correct business impression, while remaining lightweight enough to stay comfortable, she felt that she would make a good impression on her first day. Twenty minutes later, having made up her face, brushed her hair and selected simple jewellery, she was ready when she heard a knock at the door.
A small Japanese man in a lightweight business suit stood at the door smiling broadly. The Orientals are typically smaller than westerners. Jessica being quite tall for a woman anyway, at five foot ten, but even so she doubted that the skinny businessman standing before her could have been more than four foot five.
“Ohayō gozaimasu Townsend San?” the man stated before bowing to the precise angle required for a formal greeting.
Jessica smiled before answering that she was, returning the bow.
“I am Mr Yamato. I am your induction co-ordinator and trainee liaison. If you will follow me, we will head over to the main offices and start your induction”.
Jessica was instantly grateful for all of the time that she had spent learning the language and, after exchanging a few pleasantries and retrieving her hand bag, she followed Mr Yamato out of the building towards one of the many bus stops around the island. They did not have long to wait before a small bus arrived. Although there were a few people on the bus it was not what Jessica would consider crowded. Not after some of her experiences with public transport in England. However, soon she was seated next to her diminutive colleague, exchanging the usual bland pleasantries that fill the time and help to forge business relationships.
The next seven hours were to prove a whirlwind of activity. After signing in at reception and going through security to get an employee ID and become registered on the IT systems, she had to sit through an hour long induction speech. This was followed by a whirlwind tour of the head office and surrounding buildings, before being shown to the office where she would be working. Mr Yamato proved to be an invaluable guide, easing her through the various stages of induction.
“So how long will you be with me Yamato San?” Jessica asked.
“Typically I will be working closely with you for the first two weeks. After that I will leave you to settle in. Since you are a part of the management training program, I will act as a liaison between you and the company to ensure that you are able to gain all of the training, throughout the various departments, for the remainder of the course. You are not the only management trainee that we have on the island. In fact all of the trainees are in your apartment block. I live in apartment 7a, so that you can talk to me at any time. As well as the monthly one to ones, I like to have an open door policy for those in my charge, so that they can come and find me at any time to discuss issues that they might have.”
Staggering through the door some hours later, Jessica felt exhausted. She had come home on the same bus as her liaison, but had stopped at the corner shop to get some essentials in. In addition to this she had been given two sets of the company uniform, a nondescript grey trouser and jacket affair, with a peaked cap. The company logo was emblazoned on the left breast. Despite the bland mouse grey colour, she still liked what it did to show off her curves. After making a cup of tea she put the radio on and began to cook her evening meal. After lunch she spent her time reading the company literature and induction booklets, while listening to the TV on the background.
Over the next few weeks Jessica got into a routine of jogging, before breakfast when the day was still moderately cool and then heading for work after a quick shower. She started to make friends and generally find her feet as she settled into the company. She had met Holly on the occasional Sunday, for a get together and meal, as well as texting every other day. But other than that, at the weekends she shopped, pre-cooked ready meals and also explored the local area for things to do. She even found a traditional potter and went to visit him in his studio. Unlike western wheels, the Japanese use kick wheels that are sunk into the floor so that the potter sits over the wheel and kicks a wheel attached to the lower part of the assembly below ground level. It was fascinating to watch and she was even permitted to have a go on the wheel. She bought a traditional tea set for her home. Unlike a British tea pot, the Japanese have a handle protruding out of the side, similar to a soup bowl. This has been thrown as a cylinder before being stuck on to the side, rather than the rear of the pot, at a 90 degree angle to the spout. A simple Celadon glaze finishing off the pot and handle less cups nicely. This, she felt, would be an importance piece of ceramic to own if she invited friends around for tea.
Unfortunately, cycles were a bit of a luxury item on the island, given how much it would cost to get one shipped over from the mainland. As such she would not be able to indulge in her passion for some time. She therefore had to be content with jogging until such time as she could order a bike, since she had already seen some likely trails for training. She did not limit her jogs to the local circuit that she used in the morning and would usually explore further afield at the weekend. One such foray gave her pause for thought.
Jessica was out jogging on one of the footpaths that linked the various worker villages on a Saturday morning when she came to a main park. As she was jogging along she thought she saw a Pokemon. Stopping in her tracks she looked more closely and no she was not mistaken. A Pokemon was walking on four stubby legs along the path ahead of her, being led on a lead by a young Japanese woman. The pair disappeared into the trees ahead of her, on a path that branched towards a series of worker cottages. She was tempted to follow them, but did not want to appear rude. However, she had trouble gaining her rhythm for another half a mile.
Although perplexing, she did not want to disturb Mr Yamato and so waited until Monday morning before questioning him about it. They still travelled in on the bus and so she brought up the subject when she sat next to him.
“Yamato san. I saw something quite extraordinary over the weekend and hoped that you could help me”.
Mr Yamato considered.
“I would be more than happy to help you with any questions that you have. This is what I am paid for after all Townsend san”.
“I was out jogging the other day and, while running through one of the parks, I thought I saw a woman leading a Pokemon on a lead along one of the parks. Ummmm. I know I did not imagine it, but what is going on? Why would somebody dress up in costume?”
Mr Yamato smiled before answering.
“You have heard of Aname?”
“Yes. It is a major part of modern Japanese culture. I have heard that people like to dress up as characters and go to conventions. Is that what is happening here?”
“Yes. Many of our workers love Aname and like to dress up as their favourite characters for parties or functions. We even have two Commicon events each year, which some of the staff love to attend. The next one is due next month. I can send you the details if you would like Townsend san?” Mr Yamato beamed.
Jessica considered before beaming a wide smile in return.
“Yes. I think I would like that. Thank you Yamato san.”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Window Worker 2: Noike's Pet</title><link>/stories/2012/01/13/the-window-worker-2-noikes-pet/</link><pubDate>Fri, 13 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/01/13/the-window-worker-2-noikes-pet/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="window_worker.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Window Worker&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2: Noike&amp;rsquo;s Pet&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Noike led Hannah, or Hana as she now started to pronounce her friends name, by the lead into her apartment over the hall. Once inside Hannah was led over to the kitchen where Noike had some food prepared on the side. Hannah turned on the hob and quickly started to cook a rice dish on the hob.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Why is this happening? I can understand about work, sort of, but usually even Window Workers must get to go home and carry on as normal. Why am I being treated like this?” Hannah enquired.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Window Dressing</title><link>/stories/2009/12/23/window-dressing/</link><pubDate>Wed, 23 Dec 2009 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2009/12/23/window-dressing/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Angela had been working at the department store since she left college five years ago.  She had picked up various qualifications to do with retail since then, but the main thing that had gotten her off of the shop floor and into window decoration had been her diploma in fashion, along with an A level qualification in art.  She had started in underwear, but after a year, her flair for art and arranging displays had landed her current role as the shops window dresser.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Echoes of Barking 2</title><link>/stories/2009/11/07/echoes-of-barking-2/</link><pubDate>Sat, 07 Nov 2009 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2009/11/07/echoes-of-barking-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="echoesofbarking.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Echoes of Barking&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part Two&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Heading off into the hospital Emma began to feel a bit better.  Her legs were still a bit wobbly but, as she dabbed her head, she found that there was little blood.  She would have a lump, but she could live with that.  Peering down at her map she was able to work out where she needed to go in this sprawling ancient building.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Joys of Spring</title><link>/stories/2009/08/29/the-joys-of-spring/</link><pubDate>Sat, 29 Aug 2009 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2009/08/29/the-joys-of-spring/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Foreword&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Many of the forums that deal with fetishes, in particular bondage, will invariably have asked the question: “When did you first get into bondage?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The answers will usually contain tails of self-bondage and experimentation as teenagers, in some cases, early teens.  But behind these explanations, the conversation will usually ask what gets you hot, or what was your first experience of bondage?  The answer, for many people, tends to be film or literature that is not aimed at a bdsm audience.  For me, it was horror movies and stories. Horror movies of the time, although having the usual slasher pics, also contained many images where the heroine was bound, ready for the hero to rescue.  However, before this scene, you will always have a body count of heroines who did not escape the sawmill.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Kim's Tail 4: Kate</title><link>/stories/2009/06/28/kims-tail-4-kate/</link><pubDate>Sun, 28 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2009/06/28/kims-tail-4-kate/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="kims_tail3.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kim&amp;rsquo;s Tail 3: Hazel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)_&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 4: Kate&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kate stood on the landing pad watching the helicopter recede into the distance.  It had, she considered, been a busy week.  She had been surprised at some of the people who had chosen not to attend the funeral.  But then again, maybe not.  The past few days had been a media frenzy and she was glad to finally be away from the spotlight.  Jim had known and, despite being a complete bastard in life, had thrown her a lifeline after his death.  A retreat to gather her thoughts and slip away from public scrutiny.  Literally an island in a sea of sharks, or at least paparazzi.  Turning she walked towards the house as she considered what had just happened.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Rocky Road to Ruin</title><link>/stories/2008/01/26/the-rocky-road-to-ruin/</link><pubDate>Sat, 26 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2008/01/26/the-rocky-road-to-ruin/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Foreword&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;For those of you that have visited the Gromets Plaza Forum, you may
be aware that I occasionally attend the Rocky Horror show.  This piece
is written with that great stage production in mind.  I have written
this story for a competition held on Gromets site, where the brief states
that the hero/heroine should visit the sponsors fetish shop and create
a story of their adventures.  What better excuse to visit a fetish
clothing shop than the Rocky?  Having read the rules, as stipulated,
I then visited the link to the shops web site and found the perfect outfit
that would match the shows final confrontation scene perfectly.  So,
this is a story about a stage show and the possibilities that may result
from a chance encounter.  Although I did not meet the deadline for
the competition, I thought I would write the story anyway.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing 13</title><link>/stories/2007/12/19/among-the-missing-13/</link><pubDate>Wed, 19 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/12/19/among-the-missing-13/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 13 - Final&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ann had lost track of time and the number of orgasms that she had experienced.  She only knew that she was tired and that her body could not stand much more of this.  Her nipples, pussy and ass were sore from the pounding, stretching and shocks that they had received.  Then, she heard a noise.  Perhaps she was imagining things, perhaps she was so exhausted that she wanted to hear someone else.  Perhaps and then it stopped.  The pistons and shocks and everything else just stopped.  It took her a moment to realise this, as she was expecting something else and that this was only a pause while the frame switched onto another program of events.  But that was not the case and, moments later, relief flooded through her as she felt her bonds being undone and the intruders removed from her abused sex and ass.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing 11</title><link>/stories/2007/12/10/among-the-missing-11/</link><pubDate>Mon, 10 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/12/10/among-the-missing-11/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 11&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ann knelt on the freezing ground shivering, her head covered in water that she had just gulped down greedily from the horse trough just moments before.  While she had been moving she had been able to keep herself warm, but now that she had stopped, her sweat drenched body could feel the full effect of the bitter December chill.  She was also exhausted.  Although not unfit, pulling a cart and passenger for ten miles over a rough track, complete with a passenger for several hours was not her bodies idea of gentle exercise.  Although Dave had given her sports drink and regular stops, it was not enough to replace the salts and fluids that she had lost.  She had hit what athletes call “The Wall” about an hour ago.  She was not sure how she had made it this far, but she had her legs had been ravaged by cramps and spasms for the last mile.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing 12</title><link>/stories/2007/12/10/among-the-missing-12/</link><pubDate>Mon, 10 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/12/10/among-the-missing-12/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 12&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ann and Nicky chatted amiably as they sat in the cart trundling along the country roads.  The occasional grunt or sound that could have been a swear word escaped through the bridal that Dave the horse wore, which earned him a flick of the whip.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“He doesn’t seem very happy,” Ann observed with a righteous grin as she remembered herself in a similar position only the day before.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Virtues of Recycling</title><link>/stories/2007/05/06/the-virtues-of-recycling/</link><pubDate>Sun, 06 May 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/05/06/the-virtues-of-recycling/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Authors Note:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I have wanted to write a garbage story since Gromet first put this category on the site.  I didn’t know quite how it would fit together, but the outline eventually took shape.  It can be a little rough in places, but I always wanted a cat fight in one of my stories, so….  This also reminds me of a girl I used to know.  She liked to wear bin bags and get smothered in goop.  Hmmm (Fond memories).  Anyway, enjoy.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing 10</title><link>/stories/2006/12/30/among-the-missing-10/</link><pubDate>Sat, 30 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2006/12/30/among-the-missing-10/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 10&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ann knew that she was awake because the sun was shining through her closed eye lids, she could hear the sound of Dave busying himself in the kitchen, making fresh coffee by the smell tickling her senses with a strong insistence that would not be denied and, oh yes, she ached all over.  Not just the usual post sex ache that signifies a really good rogering from a reasonably well-endowed man, but the sort of ache that says that she might have difficulty walking for the next year.  Not only did her pussy and anus ache from the excesses of her automated bedroom buddy, but her nipples also ached from where the nipple clamps, wired to the frame, had tugged at her sore breasts as the long strokes had violently shoved her forward and backward with the care and tenderness of a steam train.  Her throat was sore from the assault inflicted on it by the dildo forced repeatedly into her mouth, not to mention all of the screaming that she did between the strokes.  She knew that the first words she uttered this morning would be croaked, unless she had a sweet drink first.  However, for all of her aches, sore places and abuses, she would mount the same bench again now, if she thought that she would not need to be air lifted to the mainland hospital within five minutes.  That image, along with all of the embarrassing questions she knew that she would have to answer brought a smile to her face.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing 9</title><link>/stories/2006/11/14/among-the-missing-9/</link><pubDate>Tue, 14 Nov 2006 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2006/11/14/among-the-missing-9/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part Nine&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ann stood on
the ferry and took in the stark, grey, panorama from the deck rail, as the
ship pulled headed towards the small jetty.  A little research, before
leaving, had revealed that there were two ferries a day.  This, Ann
believed, would be to enable the islanders to commute to school, or work. 
She had chosen the morning service, as this would afford her a look at the
island upon arriving.  She wished now that she had opted for a lie in bed.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>A Fitting Mount</title><link>/stories/2006/02/05/a-fitting-mount/</link><pubDate>Sun, 05 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2006/02/05/a-fitting-mount/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Authors Comment:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Terry Pratchet, one of my favourite authors, once wrote of Discworld that
it offered him a wide scope for storyline and characters.  Unlike other writers, if he wants to write a detective novel, a
romance, a science fiction fantasy, or ghost story, all that he has do to is
set it on the Disc. There he can introduce new characters, plots, or anything
else, without alienating his loyal fan base.  After all he has an entire world to play with.  So, if the Discworld works for comedy, tragedy, armies, thieves (As
long as their membership to the guild is fully paid up.), lovers and trolls,
wouldn’t it work just as well for the fetish writer?  After all, the Patricians Palace does boast the most modern, well
maintained and deepest, darkest dungeon this side of the hub?&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>How Lisa Learnt to Sleep Standing Up</title><link>/stories/2006/02/05/how-lisa-learnt-to-sleep-standing-up/</link><pubDate>Sun, 05 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2006/02/05/how-lisa-learnt-to-sleep-standing-up/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;At twelve years old Jenny looked very cute as she sat astride her dappled horse Bingo. She had been riding, or at least sitting on a horse while it was led in walk and trot around the arena, since she was two.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;At fifteen hands two, Bingo was quite tall for a young girls mount. She also had a mean streak a mile wide. Jenny did not, however, know this. She had only owned the horse for two weeks. The only times that she had been on her before, the previous owner had always ridden her for an hour before Jenny arrived and so the horse was a lot more tired than the beast that she now found herself on.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing Chapter 6</title><link>/stories/2005/09/17/among-the-missing-chapter-6/</link><pubDate>Sat, 17 Sep 2005 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2005/09/17/among-the-missing-chapter-6/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Among The Missing Chapter
6 by Rubberwolf
&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 6&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ann had lost all sense of time.  Although she had some idea of
how late it was when she was with Dave, she was no longer capable of judging. 
This would be understandable.  Her hands were tied behind her back
and her head was fastened so that she had to keep her head tilted back
at an extreme angle.  A leash pulled her body into the horizontal
her legs were bound together and she was wearing high heels.  If this
was not enough of a distraction, since her back was now very painful and
she had lost sensation in her arms, she was also forced to fuck a wall
mounted dildo, that had some sort of nub, or ridge that also teased her
clit.  Very distracting.  But not as much as the fact that she
was wearing a penis gag, that incidentally had a large exterior penis protruding
out of it and a similarly tethered girl who was, at this moment, thrusting
her ass, for all she was worth, backwards and forwards, fucking the dildo
gag and Ann’s face, while she pleasured herself, forcing Ann to rock backwards
and forwards on her own impalement.  Oh and if this was not enough,
a set of chains ran through the other girls legs, painfully attaching Ann’s
nipples to the other girls, so that as she rocked backwards and forwards,
her breasts swayed, tugging Ann’s nipples painfully and forcing her to
shriek in pain and pleasure as she lost herself, her identity, her sense
of time and being in the moment, since her world now consisted of a rubber
clad woman, with a beautiful ass that filled her vision and assaulted her
senses with powerful scents as it was forced into her face and causing
Ann to thrust her own ass forward and backward on a rubber cock.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing Chapter 7</title><link>/stories/2005/09/17/among-the-missing-chapter-7/</link><pubDate>Sat, 17 Sep 2005 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2005/09/17/among-the-missing-chapter-7/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Among The Missing Chapter
7 by Rubberwolf
&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 7&lt;/strong&gt;
Story Codes:  m/f, cons, bd, packaged.
It was late when Ann arrived home.  It had been a long night. 
Her feet were killing her.  Although women were heels all day, most
days.  A night spent standing up, wearing six inch stilettos is still
murder, no matter what anybody says.  If she had really thought about
her evening she would have bought a pack of “Party Feet.”  However,
it was a very tired and saw woman who collapsed onto the sofa and removed
her boots and rubber stockings.  The relief was instantaneous. 
Like a cool breeze caressing her legs, after the hot and sweaty confinement
of her rubber stockings.  Next came the opera gloves, which she peeled
off with a distinct “Schluppp,” as the sodden rubber was pealed away from
her arms.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing Chapter 5</title><link>/stories/2005/08/31/among-the-missing-chapter-5/</link><pubDate>Wed, 31 Aug 2005 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2005/08/31/among-the-missing-chapter-5/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Among The Missing Chapter
5 by Rubberwolf
&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ann tumbled out of the boot, supported by Dave and, after clearing her
vision following the  comparative darkness of the car boot, tried
to take in her surroundings.  She appeared to be in an industrial
estate.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Dave grabbed the lead, that was dangling between her breasts and started
to drag her towards one of the industrial units.  It was, Ann considered,
quite large.  Perhaps it was a warehouse.  However, only half
of her attention was now on her surroundings, as she began to stumble on
the loose grave of the car park.  Whoever decided that this was a
good road surface had never tried to negotiate it in heels, especially
heels this tall.  However, eventually, after a little difficulty and
a lot of support from Dave, she made it in to the lobby of the club.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Rocky Road to Ruin</title><link>/stories/2005/04/10/the-rocky-road-to-ruin/</link><pubDate>Sun, 10 Apr 2005 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2005/04/10/the-rocky-road-to-ruin/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Foreword&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;For those of you that have visited the Gromets Plaza Forum, you may
be aware that I occasionally attend the Rocky Horror show.  This piece
is written with that great stage production in mind.  I have written
this story for a competition held on Gromets site, where the brief states
that the hero/heroine should visit the sponsors fetish shop and create
a story of their adventures.  What better excuse to visit a fetish
clothing shop than the Rocky?  Having read the rules, as stipulated,
I then visited the link to the shops web site and found the perfect outfit
that would match the shows final confrontation scene perfectly.  So,
this is a story about a stage show and the possibilities that may result
from a chance encounter.  Although I did not meet the deadline for
the competition, I thought I would write the story anyway.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among the Missing Chapter IV</title><link>/stories/2004/11/15/among-the-missing-chapter-iv/</link><pubDate>Mon, 15 Nov 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2004/11/15/among-the-missing-chapter-iv/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Among The Missing&lt;/strong&gt;-
part 4
by Rubberwolf
Among the Missing Chapter IV by Rubberwolf&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;By the time that Ann arrived home, it was well past three thirty. 
It was well past four O’clock by the time she had unloaded her car. 
She now sat, staring at a small mountain of various bags and boxes that
now littered her bed.  It was time for a coffee.  She also needed
to check her e-mails.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Best Served Cold</title><link>/stories/2004/06/10/best-served-cold/</link><pubDate>Thu, 10 Jun 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2004/06/10/best-served-cold/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Alex Summers was in a good mood.  The phone call that he had just
made would ensure that he could now treat himself to a new car and perhaps
a foreign holiday.  He was long overdue for a bit of R and R, he mused
as he sipped his coffee and made his way through the kitchen towards the
connecting door that lead to his garage.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The garage was large by such standards.  Three large double doors
dominated one entire wall.  Alex admired his cars as he strolled through
the cavernous interior.  He ran his fingers lovingly over the bodywork
of his silver DB4.  Next, he stopped to admire the next car in his
collection.  A dark green Mercedes sports car that had a bold white
stripe running from bonnet to boot over the top of the vehicle and sporting
a number four, within a white circle, on the bonnet and doors.  This
car had won the 1978 Le Mans and brought a smile to his face as he remembered
the fierce bidding that had secured him the car.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among the Missing Chapter 3</title><link>/stories/2004/05/20/among-the-missing-chapter-3/</link><pubDate>Thu, 20 May 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2004/05/20/among-the-missing-chapter-3/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Among
The Missing -&lt;/strong&gt; Chapter 3
by Rubberwolf
mong the Missing Chapter 3 by Rubberwolf&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ann sipped her coffee, while sitting on Dave’s lap and accepting a cuddle
while they chatted.  Dave, it appeared was a self employed programmer. 
This meant that he worked from home; only venturing out to meet clients,
discuss requirements and to trouble shoots their systems.  He had
known Nicky since she moved in.  Although they had had a brief affair,
it soon became apparent that two doms did not mix.  They had remained
friends and still went out together.  But that was all.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Special D</title><link>/stories/2004/04/30/special-d/</link><pubDate>Fri, 30 Apr 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2004/04/30/special-d/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Diane Chambers wracked her brains for the umpteenth time as she stare
in frustration at the Blanc doodles on her not pad and the frustratingly
uninspiring suggestions regurgitated by her search engine. She reached
for her coffee. Pulling a sour face, she returned the cup and its
stone cold contents to the computer table. It was only a few days
until Valentines Day and she still did not have the faintest idea of what
to buy. It really was a cliché, but what do you buy the man
who has everything?&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Special D</title><link>/stories/2004/04/30/special-d/</link><pubDate>Fri, 30 Apr 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2004/04/30/special-d/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Diane Chambers wracked her brains for the umpteenth time as she stare
in frustration at the Blanc doodles on her not pad and the frustratingly
uninspiring suggestions regurgitated by her search engine. She reached
for her coffee. Pulling a sour face, she returned the cup and its
stone cold contents to the computer table. It was only a few days
until Valentines Day and she still did not have the faintest idea of what
to buy. It really was a cliché, but what do you buy the man
who has everything?&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Working Late 2</title><link>/stories/2004/04/20/working-late-2/</link><pubDate>Tue, 20 Apr 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2004/04/20/working-late-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;continued from &lt;a href="working_late2.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2: Temp to Perm&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Julie had enjoyed a productive summer. In fact, the past year
had rushed by in a blur which, upon reflection, seemed to consist of her
rushing to classes, or staying up until two or three in the morning working
on assignments, fuelled by strong coffee (Dark roast, percolated on her
stove in a steel coffee pot which produced the sort of thick, strong, rocket
fuel essential to late night study.) or beer. After her assignments
had been handed in, or she had sat an exam, there would inevitably be a
party, several of which she only just remembered, the precise details of
which had been eradicated through the excess of beer and dope that accompanied
such occasions.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Working Late 2</title><link>/stories/2004/04/20/working-late-2/</link><pubDate>Tue, 20 Apr 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2004/04/20/working-late-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="working_late.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Working Late&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part Two&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Julie had enjoyed a productive summer.  In fact, the past year
had rushed by in a blur which, upon reflection, seemed to consist of her
rushing to classes, or staying up until two or three in the morning working
on assignments, fuelled by strong coffee (Dark roast, percolated on her
stove in a steel coffee pot which produced the sort of thick, strong, rocket
fuel essential to late night study.) or beer.  After her assignments
had been handed in, or she had sat an exam, there would inevitably be a
party, several of which she only just remembered, the precise details of
which had been eradicated through the excess of beer and dope that accompanied
such occasions.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing Chapter 2</title><link>/stories/2004/03/20/among-the-missing-chapter-2/</link><pubDate>Sat, 20 Mar 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2004/03/20/among-the-missing-chapter-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Among
The Missing&lt;/strong&gt;- Part 2
by Rubberwolf&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Among The Missing Chapter 2 by Rubberwolf&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ann stared at the address that Mrs Birgett had given her as the car
engine idled in the McDonalds parking lot.  The empty wrappers proclaimed
her lunch had consisted of a Big Mac and large fries.  She slurped
the last of the medium coke as she studied the town map, which she had
spread out on the passenger seat.  Having decided upon the best route
to Nicky Burgetts apartment, she finished her drink, folded the map, so
that the street she was heading for was still visible from her position,
before selecting first gear and turning on to Fremont.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing</title><link>/stories/2004/02/01/among-the-missing/</link><pubDate>Sun, 01 Feb 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2004/02/01/among-the-missing/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Among
The Missing&lt;/strong&gt;
by Rubberwolf&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Among The Missing by Rubberwolf
&lt;strong&gt;Foreword&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Snow blanketed the surrounding landscape and a cold breeze blew in from
the grey sea, causing a shudder through the assembled crowd.  As if
the pale moon were an inadequate illumination for the evening, the lighthouse,
jutting out from the island on a narrow peninsular some five miles away,
passed it’s strong beam over the people, who still needed the comfort of
flash lights to banish the darkness from their midst.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Invitation to a Fetish Party</title><link>/stories/2003/12/16/invitation-to-a-fetish-party/</link><pubDate>Tue, 16 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2003/12/16/invitation-to-a-fetish-party/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Victoria was not sure what to expect when Matt asked to join him at
a fetish party.  She knew that he had some definite kinks; it was
one of the things that attracted her to him.  They had met a few months
ago at a party held by a mutual friend.  She had found him witty,
charming and very good company.  Although she would not call herself
promiscuous, she had found herself leaving her telephone number on his
bedside table the following morning, still smiling over the antics of the
night before.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Invitation to a Fetish Party</title><link>/stories/2003/12/16/invitation-to-a-fetish-party/</link><pubDate>Tue, 16 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2003/12/16/invitation-to-a-fetish-party/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Victoria was not sure what to expect when Matt asked to join him at
a fetish party.  She knew that he had some definite kinks; it was
one of the things that attracted her to him.  They had met a few months
ago at a party held by a mutual friend.  She had found him witty,
charming and very good company.  Although she would not call herself
promiscuous, she had found herself leaving her telephone number on his
bedside table the following morning, still smiling over the antics of the
night before.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Perfume</title><link>/stories/2003/12/16/perfume/</link><pubDate>Tue, 16 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2003/12/16/perfume/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Perfume&lt;/strong&gt;
by RubberWolf&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Perfume by RubberWolf
Foreword&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Firstly, the usual copyright applies to this document.  Secondly,
this story contains adult material and should only be read by people of
an appropriate age.  I.E. adults.  Thirdly, although a work of
fiction, the effect of ultrasound upon the human body, at a given frequency,
are documented facts.  That is to say that, when the human body is
immersed in a field of sound waves, of a given frequency, all of the internal
organs will vibrate.  Unless the unfortunate person is removed, the
effects can prove fatal.  I have no idea what effect ultrasound would
have on human tissue when used locally, as depicted in this story. 
I suspect however, that sever damage would result on a cellular level. 
So before you start cannibalising that ultrasonic tooth brush that aunt
Petunia brought for you last Xmas, which you have never gotten on with,
allow me to give you a word of warning.  Don’t try this at home. 
After all, it’s just a story and there are limits to the research that
authors should not be expected to conduct in the name of accuracy. 
So don’t say you were not warned.  Enjoy.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Working Late</title><link>/stories/2003/12/16/working-late/</link><pubDate>Tue, 16 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2003/12/16/working-late/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Foreword: Surprisingly, this has evolved in to a consensual story. Initially,
I had considered the tried and tested, non consensual, automatic packaging
theme. Perhaps I will still write a story along those lines.
Although this is slightly out of character, I think it works well and there
is still an element of reluctance. Anyway, enjoy. Rubberwolf.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part One&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;At nineteen, most girls of Nicole’s age would have been horrified by
having to work in a rubber doll factory. Unlike most girls however,
Nicole was not bothered at all by the products that her company sold.
It certainly gave her something to talk about at parties. The looks
of shock and disbelief that come over people’s faces. It is not so
much what she does at the factory. After all, an accounts assistant
is hardly scandalous. But as soon as she mentions that she works
for “Rubberdoll’s”, the look of boredom that typically glazes peoples faces
at the mention of accounts, suddenly transforms in to one of astonishment
and disbelief.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Working Late</title><link>/stories/2003/12/16/working-late/</link><pubDate>Tue, 16 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2003/12/16/working-late/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Foreword: Surprisingly, this has evolved in to a consensual story. Initially,
I had considered the tried and tested, non consensual, automatic packaging
theme. Perhaps I will still write a story along those lines.
Although this is slightly out of character, I think it works well and there
is still an element of reluctance. Anyway, enjoy. Rubberwolf.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part One&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;At nineteen, most girls of Nicole’s age would have been horrified by
having to work in a rubber doll factory. Unlike most girls however,
Nicole was not bothered at all by the products that her company sold.
It certainly gave her something to talk about at parties. The looks
of shock and disbelief that come over people’s faces. It is not so
much what she does at the factory. After all, an accounts assistant
is hardly scandalous. But as soon as she mentions that she works
for “Rubberdoll’s”, the look of boredom that typically glazes peoples faces
at the mention of accounts, suddenly transforms in to one of astonishment
and disbelief.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Invitation to a Fetish Party</title><link>/stories/2003/12/06/invitation-to-a-fetish-party/</link><pubDate>Sat, 06 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2003/12/06/invitation-to-a-fetish-party/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Invitation
to a Fetish Party&lt;/strong&gt;
by Rubberwolf&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Invitation to a Fetish Party by Rubberwolf
Victoria was not sure what to expect when Matt asked to join him at
a fetish party.  She knew that he had some definite kinks; it was
one of the things that attracted her to him.  They had met a few months
ago at a party held by a mutual friend.  She had found him witty,
charming and very good company.  Although she would not call herself
promiscuous, she had found herself leaving her telephone number on his
bedside table the following morning, still smiling over the antics of the
night before.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Show and Tell</title><link>/stories/2003/12/06/show-and-tell/</link><pubDate>Sat, 06 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2003/12/06/show-and-tell/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Mary had been babysitting the Johnson children for three days. 
Dr Johnson and his wife had flown to Europe for a second honeymoon and
would be gone for four weeks.  It was fortunate that Mary had secured
this position, as it fitted in with her university timetable quite nicely.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Mary had spent the better part of four years studying art at university. 
She was now half way though a two year diploma course in education. 
This combined with her middle class appearance and easy manner with the
children, were all contributory in securing her this position.  The
chance to work with young children during the summer holidays would not,
Mary felt, hurt her CV.  Also, she had her room and board paid for. 
She had the chance to save money, allowing her to start her final year
without too much hardship.  She could also work on her dissertation. 
All things considered, this was a nice job.  Once it finished, she
would have to look at the usual option of waiting on tables, or temporary
work in a factory.  But she would do so from the comfortable position
of having built up a nest egg.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Among The Missing</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/among-the-missing/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/among-the-missing/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 8&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ann’s
earlier synopsis about a long night were to prove correct.
She had lost track of the length of time that she had spent in the box.
Her arms and legs ached from the cramped position and tight bondage.
Her hair hurt. She was hot and sweaty.
She had also begun to drift mentally.
She was in a black world with no stimulation, no noise, no breeze upon
her skin, apart from the air that she drew in through her mouth or that
occasionally wafted onto her exposed pussy.
Ann was in that place where imagination and reality collide.
A place where her fate had been sealed and because she could do nothing
about it, had already accepted the reality of her situation.
This was, as far as Ann knew, subland.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Echoes of Barking</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/echoes-of-barking/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/echoes-of-barking/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Emma arrived a half an hour early for the viewing.  It was always best to arrive before the client.  It also allowed her to make sure that everything was presentable and that there were no unexpected surprises, like burst pipes or collapsed plaster.  Although the property was maintained by an agency, it never hurt to check.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Emma picked up the print outs of the property that she had bought from the office and leaved through them one more time, just so that she could read the details one more time and compare the description to the actual property.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Kim's Tail 1: Kim's Introduction</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/kims-tail-1-kims-introduction/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/kims-tail-1-kims-introduction/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 1: Kim&amp;rsquo;s Introduction&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Kim walked into the solicitors’ office with a certain degree of discomfort.  She wore a simple black dress, with matching handbag and shoes, as befitted the occasion.  But even this nod to the conventions normally expected was a lie.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Hypocrite”, she silently cursed.  “He was a complete bastard and you’re not sorry that he is gone.   The only reason that you are sitting here is for your chance to get your hands on 1.2 billion or at least a share.”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Kim's Tail 2: Honey's Training Regime</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/kims-tail-2-honeys-training-regime/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/kims-tail-2-honeys-training-regime/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="kims_tail1.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kim&amp;rsquo;s Tail 1: Kim&amp;rsquo;s Introduction&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)_&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 2: Honey&amp;rsquo;s Training Regime&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Although Kim had tried to use some of the drinking water to keep herself clean, her captors obviously felt she was getting a little grubby.  The first that Kim knew about this however was when the buzzer sounded.  As she had walked over to the food tray, which did not appear, her bedding and litter tray swivelled into their wall slots, leaving the room completely bare.  The next instant, powerful jets of water erupted from small holes in the walls, drenching Kim in seconds. After a minute or two the jets stopped leaving Kim shocked and shivering with cold as the surplus water funnelled down the drain hole in the corner of the room.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Kim's Tail 3: Hazel</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/kims-tail-3-hazel/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/kims-tail-3-hazel/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="kims_tail2.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kim&amp;rsquo;s Tail 2: Honey&amp;rsquo;s Training Regime&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)_&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 3: Hazel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hazel stood beside the helicopter as the pilot unloaded her luggage.  Turning around she addressed Mr Prentice.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;“This is quite a set up.  How long can I stay here?”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;“As long as you wish Ms O’Keif.   Mr Star did not specify a time limit, merely that you should have full use of the Island.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hazel studied the man for a moment and was immediately taken by the notion that he looked remarkably like Penfold, from the children’s television program “Dangermouse”.  Short, fat, balding, glasses and earnest expression.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Link</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/link/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/link/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img loading="lazy" src="link.jpg"&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Homo erectus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;H. erectus&lt;/em&gt; existed between 1.8 million and 300,000 years ago. Like habilis, the face has
protruding jaws with large molars, no chin, thick brow ridges, and a long low
skull, with a brain size varying between 750 and 1225 cc. Early &lt;em&gt;erectus&lt;/em&gt;
specimens average about 900 cc, while late ones have an average of about 1100 cc
(Leakey 1994). The skeleton is more robust than those of modern humans, implying
greater strength. Body proportions vary; the &lt;a href="http://www.talkorigins.org/faqs/homs/specimen.html#turkana"&gt;Turkana
Boy&lt;/a&gt; is tall and slender (though still extraordinarily strong), like modern
humans from the same area, while the few limb bones found of
&lt;a href="http://www.talkorigins.org/faqs/homs/specimen.html#peking"&gt;Peking Man&lt;/a&gt;
indicate a shorter, sturdier build. Study of the Turkana Boy skeleton
indicates that &lt;em&gt;erectus&lt;/em&gt; may have been more efficient at walking than
modern humans, whose skeletons have had to adapt to allow for the birth of
larger-brained infants (Willis 1989). &lt;em&gt;Homo habilis&lt;/em&gt; and all the
australopithecines are found only in Africa, but &lt;em&gt;erectus&lt;/em&gt; was
wide-ranging, and has been found in Africa, Asia, and Europe. There is evidence
that &lt;a href="http://www.talkorigins.org/faqs/homs/fire.gif"&gt;&lt;em&gt;erectus&lt;/em&gt;
probably used fire&lt;/a&gt;, and their &lt;a href="http://www.talkorigins.org/faqs/homs/tools1.gif"&gt;stone
tools are more sophisticated&lt;/a&gt; than those of &lt;em&gt;habilis&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Window Worker</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-window-worker/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-window-worker/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Hannah Reynolds had worked for Tanaka since leaving university. Her combined honours degree in business and Japanese had served to start her on the career ladder with the large Japanese conglomerate. She had been interested in the East since she was a little girl, getting her first taste of oriental culture from television shows like Monkey or the Water Margin. Classic Japanese films like Godzilla had been very entertaining. You knew that it was a man in a suit stomping all over a model city, but she was prepared to believe the illusion for the sake of entertainment. Then, while at college she had discovered Manga and she had re-considered everything that she knew about the Japanese. She had joked that the most evil organisations on the planet seemed to be Japanese Multi Corporations. All of these had, by definition, a weapon’s or experimental science division. They would all have a dangerous experimental gizmo that they would leave around for their children to find and play with, or more usually, somebody else’s children. They would then cause havoc, ultimately destroying Tokyo. It was only then that the companies’ large and suspiciously primed construction division would leap into action. Rebuilding Tokyo seemed to be a very profitable and popular national pastime in all Japanese fiction.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Working Late</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/working-late/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/working-late/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Foreword: Surprisingly, this has evolved in to a consensual story.  Initially,
I had considered the tried and tested, non consensual, automatic packaging
theme.  Perhaps I will still write a story along those lines. 
Although this is slightly out of character, I think it works well and there
is still an element of reluctance.  Anyway, enjoy. Rubberwolf.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Working Late by Rubberwolf&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;At nineteen, most girls of Nicole’s age would have been horrified by
having to work in a rubber doll factory.  Unlike most girls however,
Nicole was not bothered at all by the products that her company sold. 
It certainly gave her something to talk about at parties.  The looks
of shock and disbelief that come over people’s faces.  It is not so
much what she does at the factory.  After all, an accounts assistant
is hardly scandalous.  But as soon as she mentions that she works
for “Rubberdoll’s”, the look of boredom that typically glazes peoples faces
at the mention of accounts, suddenly transforms in to one of astonishment
and disbelief.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Working Late 2</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/working-late-2/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/working-late-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;continued from &lt;a href="working_late2.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2: Temp to Perm&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Julie had enjoyed a productive summer. In fact, the past year
had rushed by in a blur which, upon reflection, seemed to consist of her
rushing to classes, or staying up until two or three in the morning working
on assignments, fuelled by strong coffee (Dark roast, percolated on her
stove in a steel coffee pot which produced the sort of thick, strong, rocket
fuel essential to late night study.) or beer. After her assignments
had been handed in, or she had sat an exam, there would inevitably be a
party, several of which she only just remembered, the precise details of
which had been eradicated through the excess of beer and dope that accompanied
such occasions.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>