Stavros Lambri

“No,” Aimee whispered, her eyes wide with horror as she stared at the contraption before her. “Calm down,” David said, “and lets talk about this.” Aimee looked up at the man that she called “Master.” The height difference that usually made her feel safe and secure was turning ugly with every passing moment. His looming presence was feeling more like an ogre from legend than a saint. At just under six feet, David was not a tall man, but he still towered over her by at least a foot. ...

The vacuum’s high-pitched whine roared to life and the air was sucked out from between the two layers of latex. Paige’s breath caught in her chest as she felt the smooth fabric press in on her naked flesh, trapping her in place. Flexing her bicep, she tried to raise her arm, but it was no use. That thin layer of black latex was holding her captive better than a pair of handcuffs. She tried to move her other arm, her legs, her head, even her hips, but she could not move an inch. The most she could accomplish was a series of isometric exercises. ...