Steve Spandex

Naomi smiled contentedly to herself as she folded the last sheet and placed it onto the pile in the storeroom. At last she had finished her shift and could begin to enjoy her three day break. It was the 27th of December in the hotel in which she worked as assistant head housekeeper, and all the Christmas guests had departed after their festive breaks. Now the hotel was closing down for four nights until the New Year’s Eve revellers arrived. It was four PM and Naomi had dismissed the other chambermaids half an hour ago and was preparing to leave herself. She had a surprise visit to see her parents planned, and had brought her luggage with her, so she had no reason to go back to the staff accommodation block, which was situated across the car park away from the main hotel building. ...

Ingrid wasn’t sure exactly what she was letting herself in for when she accepted the invitation to join her new friend’s ‘girls night in’. But getting in proved to be the easy part. It was getting herself out again that was to prove tricky, as her new playmates seemed to be slightly over-zealous in their desire to have her remain as one of their group. “So what shall we say? About seven o’clock round at my flat?” ...

Silent Street is one of the ancient thoroughfares in the town of Ipswich in Suffolk, England. No one knows for certain how the name came about, but one theory is that, during an outbreak of plague in 1665, the death toll amongst the residents of this street was particularly high, and thereafter the area fell ‘silent’. The story below, however, gives a more modern twist as to why the name might be apt! ...

story continued from part one Part Two For a few seconds, the sound of the closing door reverberated around the room, rattling the metal shelves on which were stored thousands of pairs of tights and stockings. But this cornucopia of hosiery in all its variety of styles, sizes, colours and deniers, was of no interest to Fiona right now, as her focus was centred upon the numerous pairs that had been taken from their packets and used to enshroud her. Just how many pairs was she encumbered by altogether? Including the pair worn in conventional fashion, she estimated that there were eleven. She may have miscalculated of course, such had been the whirlwind nature of her journey into this world of encasement, that she really wasn’t certain whether a pair or two might have slipped her notice. ...

Part One Fiona gazed out of the window at the October sunset and smiled. The slim, attractive, twenty year old was more than pleased with her first week working here, but now she was looking forward to a quiet weekend of relaxation. She checked her watch. Nearly four thirty; only half an hour to go now. As this fact registered in her brain, however, the door opened slightly and the head of her boss, Monica, suddenly appeared in the ensuing gap. ...

I’m not sure how she found her way to my door, but find it she did. It was Sunday afternoon and suddenly, there she was on my doorstep, larger than life and totally out of the blue. “Hi, my name’s Lucy. Are you Steve, the guy who writes bondage stories on the internet?” I nodded, rather dumbfounded that she should know who I was. “I’m a big fan of your work.” ...

story continued from chapter 26 Chapter 27: The Dawning of a New Era Saskia watched as the car advanced slowly up the driveway; the sound of gravel crackling beneath tyres disturbing the stillness of the evening. The outlook from the small office window gave an excellent view of the approach to Shackleton Grange’s main entrance, and she was able to observe the dark green Toyota coming to a halt beside the derelict fountain, before the doors on both sides opened simultaneously and the pair of occupants emerged into the failing light. A minute or so ago, the buzz of the intercom had been followed by a disembodied female voice informing her that Megan and Alison had arrived for tonight’s class, and now Saskia was able to put faces to the names, as the duo slammed the car doors shut and began to walk slowly towards the house. ...

story continued from chapter 27 Chapter 28: Tying Up a Few Loose Ends A surreal atmosphere hung over the ancient mansion house that Tuesday morning. As the rising sun did its best to burn off the early morning mist which lifted in slowly swirling wisps from Shackleton Grange’s dew-laden lawns, Cathy and Saskia sat watching from their seats in the vast bay window. Both had eaten a good breakfast, prepared by the three docile and accommodating servants, and now sat back sipping lapsang souchong from Dolores’ best china, as what appeared to be the genesis of a fine Suffolk spring day unfurled before their eyes. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 25: Dolores Alone) Chapter 26: A Taste of Her Own Medicine It had taken Bethany a few seconds to cotton on to what Saskia had in mind. The latter’s instruction to the zombie-like servant to tie Bethany up again had been acted upon immediately, and with such ruthless efficiency, that she’d had no chance to even think about taking evasive action. In dumbfounded paralysis, Bethany had watched as the still dripping wet-suit that fit snugly around Crystal’s slim figure moved towards her. With her head enclosed in a rubber hood, from which only her eyes and nostrils were visible, the recently released woman was in Bethany’s face within no more than a second or two of Saskia’s surprise edict, her long red hair sprouting in a rat-tailed plume from somewhere at the top of her head. Her eyes remained fixed on her projected target, and showed no emotion of any kind as she grasped Bethany by the shoulder, turned her swiftly around, and pulled both arms together behind her back. ...

story continued from part seven Part 8 (N.B. Each episode in the Long Time Bound series is complete within itself, so there is no need to have read the previous chapters before reading this one) Let me make one thing clear right from the start. My sole objective was to get Charlotte into some strict bondage and allow her to discover how exhilarating this type of pastime could be. I never had any thoughts of being bound myself on this occasion. However, the secret of a good plan is to remain flexible, and when things don’t go quite as anticipated, and you meet with resistance from your intended target, sometimes you have to make sacrifices to reach your intended goal. And this is exactly what happened in the tale I’m about to relate, which took place in December 2016. ...

story continued from part six Part 7 And to think that it all started out like a normal Saturday morning self-bondage session. I’m sure many of you know the drill: Tie yourself up, insert gag and seal lips with duct tape, apply a blindfold, handcuff yourself behind your back, with the key placed strategically so that it will be difficult – but not impossible - to reach, then revel and luxuriate in your perceived state of complete helplessness for an hour or three. That was the plan at any rate. And at first, everything seemed to be going well. ...

story continued from part five Part 6 For me, it all started off as just another routine Friday evening. The cellar of Ann-Marie’s house had, over the past couple of years, become quite a familiar haunt of mine. In fact, you could almost call it my second home – at least on most weekends. I knew every square inch of the walls, ceiling, floor, the wooden door and almost every storage box and discarded piece of furniture and other junk that lay scattered about the small, untidy windowless space. Not that I could always see this disorganised clutter, the plain, unpainted plaster that adorned all four sides of this underground chamber, or the bare concrete floor. In fact, I would have to say that most of the time – for me at least – the room was shrouded in darkness. There were two reasons why this could be the case. Either the overhead light was switched off, or else I was blindfolded or hooded… sometimes both. ...

(story continues from Long Time Bound 5) Part 6 For me, it all started off as just another routine Friday evening. The cellar of Ann-Marie’s house had, over the past couple of years, become quite a familiar haunt of mine. In fact, you could almost call it my second home – at least on most weekends. I knew every square inch of the walls, ceiling, floor, the wooden door and almost every storage box and discarded piece of furniture and other junk that lay scattered about the small, untidy windowless space. Not that I could always see this disorganised clutter, the plain, unpainted plaster that adorned all four sides of this underground chamber, or the bare concrete floor. In fact, I would have to say that most of the time – for me at least – the room was shrouded in darkness. There were two reasons why this could be the case. Either the overhead light was switched off, or else I was blindfolded or hooded… sometimes both. ...

It was Christmas Eve, and Imogen was getting excited about her plans for the Festive period. But she was also extremely nervous about the train of events that she was about to set in motion. Yet these two conflicting emotions only seemed to make the task ahead ever more enticing, as she braced herself for her trip into the unknown. **** Imogen had always loved Christmas. When she was very young, the bright lights, the decked out Christmas tree, the carol singers, the anticipation of Santa’s visit, the smell of roasting turkey and the family opening presents in front of the fire, were for Imogen – as they were for most children - a time of magic and delight. As she’d reached her late teenage years, the allure of alcohol fuelled Christmas parties and time spent with her friends had all added to the joy that she experienced throughout December. ...

story continued from part four Part 5 (The day that Carolyn and I got ‘kidnapped’) It must have been at least two hours since I’d been left tied up in the small windowless basement room. But the length of time that I’d been left to my own devices didn’t mean that I was any closer to getting myself free. In fact, the copious amounts of rope that bound and held me in check were still as tight and efficient in their assigned roles as they had been at the moment of application. ...

(N.B. This is a sequel to my earlier story “Melissa’s Quality Time”, which ideally should be read first) Melissa peeped through the gap in the curtains, as the sound of a car coming to a halt outside reached her ears. It was getting dark outside now, and the movement-sensitive light in the apartment block’s car park had just activated to reveal the sight of Louisa’s Toyota Yaris pulling up in the space set aside for visitors. Melissa smiled as she watched Louisa open the driver’s door and get out into the gathering gloom of a chilly autumn evening. “Tonight Louisa” she thought to herself “you’re going to get your come-uppance. And I’m going to take so much pleasure from making you suffer for what you put me through.” ...

story continued from part two Part 3 The foundations of this tale are based on real events…with a large helping of fantasy added for good measure. I won’t bore you with a long story about how I came to be bound that Friday evening. Suffice to say that visits to see my rigger, Sarah, occurred on a frequent and regular basis, by which I mean maybe two or three times a week. On these occasions I would go to her house, have her tie me up, gag me and usually leave me that way for several hours while she watched television, did her housework or - very occasionally - went out for the night. Although Sarah and I had had a brief fling together a couple of years previous to the incident that I am about to document, we weren’t in a relationship at this time. We were, however, still work colleagues, and my after-hours visits served to sate my appetite for being kept in tight, inescapable bondage. Sarah’s views on this arrangement hovered somewhere between fascination and indifference, and up to now I had never really sussed out her true feelings on the subject. But the fact that she was willing to help me live out my ‘kidnapped by a beautiful woman’ fantasies was all I needed at the time. Simply being rendered helpless and left for an unknown length of time was something I’d always enjoyed experiencing, and the fact that I could now indulge in this pleasure every few days was all I really desired from our relationship. And Sarah was quite willing to go along with my strange little games, provided that I didn’t take up too much of her time. ...

story continued from part three Part 4 “Here, put these on.” Tracey handed the pair of taupe coloured tights to me. “You want me to wear these… and nothing else?” Tracey smiled at me. “Of course. Now get undressed and do as you’re told.” I started to take my clothes off and began sheathing my legs in the tights, conscious that Tracey was standing on the other side of the bedroom, watching my every move. ...

Outward Bound is an international, outdoor-education organization which organises challenging expeditions aimed at promoting wilderness survival skills. This story, however, brings a whole new meaning to the term. **** Jessica scoured the landscape in every direction, in what turned out to be an utterly futile effort to find a familiar landmark on the featureless Scottish moor. She had to face the fact that she was lost. She cursed to herself beneath her breath. What the hell was she doing out here all alone in the wilderness, miles from civilisation? The Outward Bound holiday hadn’t been her idea, nor indeed something that she’d been particularly keen on getting involved in. But her friend Penny had, over the course of several weeks, managed to convince Jessica to go along with her. Her boyfriend Mike, who as well as being her lover also happened to be Penny’s brother, had also cajoled her into taking up the challenge. In fact he’d been extremely keen for her to go; strangely over enthusiastic really, when she thought about it. As he couldn’t take any time off work at the moment, he’d told her, she should take a break without him and get away for a few days. ...

Anna sighed as she strolled around the living room of her soon to be vacated flat. She kept trying to envisage how it had been only days before with all her personal possessions still strewn around, but for some reason found herself unable to conjure up what should have been an all too familiar scene. Not only that, but the memories that this stirred up seemed to cause a wave of nostalgic sadness to well up in her. Dwelling on the past, she decided, was not a good idea. She checked her watch for what must have been the hundredth time today: half past eight. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 8) Part 9 Lady Hazel Paine strolled slowly across the cellar floor and began climbing the steps back to the outside world, leaving Lauren feeling chilled to the bone by her final remarks. Was she just teasing or trying to scare her? Surely she didn’t really sell people into slavery and have them shipped to the four corners of the earth, did she? Although Lauren knew she wasn’t exactly in the twins’ good books at this precise moment, they wouldn’t really sell her to this decidedly creepy woman. Or would they? She’d seen what had just happened to Amber, and it seemed that the rivals really did hate each other. So Lauren couldn’t rule out the possibility that Hazel would come back and whisk her away as well. She had to warn the twins. But that could prove difficult bearing in mind how efficiently she was gagged right now. ...

Charlotte found it difficult to avert her eyes from the handcuffs. Not one, not two, but three pairs of seemingly identical shiny metal shackles, just sitting there on top of the bookcase. Each bracelet lay open and welcoming. It was almost as if they were trying to entice her; calling out to her: “Come on, try me on, you know you want to.” And it was true that Charlotte did indeed want to feel those steel manacles closing down around her limbs. She kept glancing at them every few seconds. Even though the conversation had quickly moved on to other – to her mind, more mundane – matters, she still felt a thrill at the prospect of finding herself totally trapped and helpless in those tempting restraints. How would it feel? She had no idea, as she’d never had the opportunity to experience such delights before, although she’d often dreamed of scenarios in which she was kidnapped and held in inescapable captivity. More and more, as she stared at those curved fingers of steel with their short but sturdy connecting chain, she found the attraction too tempting to resist. She knew that somehow she had to get into those cuffs, even though she’d been forbidden to even touch them. ...

(story continues from Embedded 2) Part Three Remarkably, given the severely restrictive nature of her bonds, Lisa did sleep surprisingly well for several hours that night. Whether the extreme terror of the past two days had sapped all her energy, or whether she was simply becoming more accustomed to being permanently bound and unable to move freely, she wasn’t certain. Whatever the case, the fact was that, despite all her trials and tribulations, she woke feeling refreshed, a spirit of optimism having pervaded her, due, she guessed, to the fact that this was the day that she was to be set free…or so she hoped. ...

Authors note: This was inspired by a vid I came across recently called ‘Quicksand Bondage’ on MyVideo.de - http://www.myvideo.de/watch/10856811/Quicksand_bondage Emma had very little recollection of her actual abduction, although the events leading up to her capture were etched indelibly in her mind. On the day in question, she had been attending her regular Tuesday evening yoga class at the local gym. Just after the class had finished & she was preparing to get changed & leave for home, however, her mobile phone had rung & she’d stepped out of the changing rooms & into the corridor to take the call. It had been an old friend calling & for several minutes the two women had chatted & caught up on all the latest news. ...

Authors note: This was inspired by a vid I came across recently called ‘Quicksand Bondage’ on MyVideo.de - http://www.myvideo.de/watch/10856811/Quicksand_bondage Emma had very little recollection of her actual abduction, although the events leading up to her capture were etched indelibly in her mind. On the day in question, she had been attending her regular Tuesday evening yoga class at the local gym. Just after the class had finished & she was preparing to get changed & leave for home, however, her mobile phone had rung & she’d stepped out of the changing rooms & into the corridor to take the call. It had been an old friend calling & for several minutes the two women had chatted & caught up on all the latest news. ...

(Catch-22: a situation in which a person is frustrated by a paradoxical rule or set of circumstances that precludes any attempt to escape from them) Although Kate was loath to admit it, there was no getting away from the facts; the blame for the predicament that she found herself in right now was entirely her own. Although her initial remark had been uttered in complete innocence, her subsequent bragging - once the subject had become a topic for debate - was not only now being shown to have been a bad move on her part, but also proved that her initial claim to be able to achieve something that she’d never even attempted before, was merely a case of wishful thinking. And now her friends were teaching her a lesson. ...

Jenny knew that it was wrong to pry into the personal belongings of others, but she was intrigued. And now, with her flatmate Claire away on an overnight business trip, she felt the time was right for her to put her plan into action. She would simply enter Claire’s bedroom, have a look through the suitcase & satisfy her curiosity. She figured that, providing she left everything as she found it, Claire would be none the wiser. ...

Suzy pulled on the tight fitting cat-suit with a rising sense of anticipation. The shiny metallic black outfit glistened in the morning sunlight that streamed in through her bedroom window as she slowly eased the skin-tight fabric up legs already sheathed in black tights; smoothing out any wrinkles as she proceeded up over her thighs & hips to her waist, then onwards over her bare breasts & shoulders, slipping her arms into the waiting sleeves before finally reaching her throat. Dexterously reaching behind her back, she pulled the zipper upwards to her neck. ...

Lucy scrutinised the small ad in the local newspaper for a second time, not quite believing her own eyes. If what she’d just read was for real, then it was a dream come true. It just couldn’t be, could it? But there it was in black & white before her very eyes: Wanted. Aspiring actress, aged 18-25, for lead role in a local independent film production. No acting experience necessary. ...

If you were to ask Sophie what her hobbies were, she would probably tell you that she enjoyed playing tennis, horse riding, reading, going to the cinema & socializing with friends. In fact, when the question of spare time activities cropped up on surveys or job application forms, these were the things she always wrote down. But there was one hobby that she would never allow prospective employers - or indeed virtually anyone else - know about. For Sophie’s favourite pastime was a form of pleasure neither understood nor appreciated by the vast majority of the population. In fact, if she was ever to reveal her carefully concealed secret to the outside world, she would, she felt certain, be labeled weird, kinky, perverted, or even worse. Therefore she kept her ultimate passion to herself. ...

The story you are about to read is based, in part, on true events. It is difficult to estimate what percentage is true & how much fabrication, but I would guess somewhere around 70/30 in favour of the truth. I will, however, leave it up to you, the reader, to decide which of the events described below actually occurred & which are simply a product of my vivid, bondage obsessed imagination. A word of caution before you start, however: the elements of the story that seem less plausible are more often than not factual, whilst some of the more mundane stuff may be simply fabricated to make the plot flow smoothly. It’s up to you to decide…. ...

It was Saturday afternoon & time for Melissa to relax. After a long, busy week at work, she’d spent the morning doing all the household chores that needed to be done & been to do her weekly shopping. And now, the curvaceous twenty two year old brunette was looking forward to some quality time on her own. Meticulously, she went around making sure that all the windows in her apartment were shut, the curtains drawn & the door to the outside world securely locked. For Melissa wanted no disturbance during the next few hours; no prying eyes to catch a glimpse of the secret pastime that she was about to indulge in. ...

Tracy-Janine had been looking forward to getting home from work that Friday evening. She had been in a state of barely concealed excitement all day about what she was going to do this weekend, & she was sure that it had affected her work; her concentration levels being extremely poor this particular day. In fact, this state of intensity had been building up steadily all week, with the thought of what she had planned sending ever greater shivers of excited anticipation up her spine. Today, however, the tension had become unbearable, & as her expectations heightened, so the time seemed to slow down to a snail’s pace; the minutes seeming like hours & the hours passing like days. ...

story continued from part one Part 2 By this time, Tara had forced her tired limbs & aching body into a sitting position, waiting with baited breath for the next sound to reach her, & hoping against hope that the voice hadn’t been just wishful thinking on her part. Her next encounter with her potential rescuers - for there had to be at least two of them out there given the voice - was not aural but visual. Through the encrusted glass & the mesh, the outline of a man’s face appeared briefly before disappearing again, only to return a few seconds later. The voice again accompanied this second appearance. ...

Part 1 Tara had always, it seemed to her now, been fascinated, or even obsessed with bondage. Ever since she could remember, she had always felt the need to tie herself up whenever she was alone. There was some strange thrill associated with being unable to move in the normal way; some weird excitement that surrounded the sensation & realization that she was somebody else’s captive. Not that she ever had been, however, as all her bondage to date had been entirely self-inflicted. Not another soul in the whole world knew about her peculiar fantasies, although, by the time she left home at the age of nineteen, she had been practicing with her array of accumulated ropes & other restraints on an almost daily basis for several years in the secrecy of her locked bedroom. ...

Nicki peered over her shoulder from her position at the top of the stairs & gazed through the banisters at the carpeted hall below. There, unmistakably, was the small silver-coloured metal object that she had seconds earlier let slip through her fingers, & which now lay almost directly beneath her at a distance of approximately twelve feet. But those twelve feet might as well have been a million miles as far as Nicki was concerned, as there was no way that she could now retrieve the key, & there was no-one that she could blame for her plight but herself. ...

story continues from part three Chapter 4 Amber peeked out from behind the curtains into the darkness. The outbuildings of the rambling old house that belonged to Jade and Jasmine’s parents were well lit with security lights, but further afield, along the quarter of a mile long driveway that led from the road to the isolated cluster of buildings, the blackness was absolute. Amber checked her watch. The digital display, dazzling in the otherwise unlit room, informed her that it was almost 7pm. Any minute now, the tall blonde woman thought smugly to herself, the prey would show itself. And from that point on, Amber felt certain, there would be no escape for the unsuspecting victim of her subterfuge. ...

story continues from part one Chapter 2 Jade had a lot of time on her hands to think the day’s events through. As a matter of fact, there was very little else that she could do that evening. Amber’s revelations as to her planned course of action had set Jade’s mind reeling, and now, as she sat in the cellar of her home, she tried to make sense of a scheme that seemed to her somewhat akin to total madness. To say that she was uncomfortable with Amber’s hare-brained proposal would have been an understatement. Kidnapping was a crime and something that she wanted no part of. Amber was a law unto herself, and under normal circumstances Jade’s attitude would have been that her wayward cousin could do whatever she pleased, so long as it didn’t involve or implicate her or Jasmine in any way, shape or form. ...

story continues from part 7 Chapter 8 In stark contrast to the relative comfort of Lauren’s soft, plush surroundings with the airtight cocoon to keep out the cold, Jade was afforded no such luxury after release from the Japanese-style bondage which Amber had inflicted on her. She had been the first of the trio to be allowed out of her tortuous position, before being marched away from her sister and Lauren. Having spent the past few uncomfortable hours trying to find release from these, the strictest of bonds that Amber had ever imposed upon her, she’d finally had to admit defeat. Normally she was quite adept at getting out of rope bondage, having acquired an expertise matched only by her sister over the course of the years. This Oriental bondage, with its taut webbing and numerous hitches and cinches, knots and splices, however, had left her bewildered and confused as to how to wriggle, squeeze or contort her arms out of the immaculately tied ligatures that surrounded and overwhelmed her. And it appeared, from the grunts of frustration coming from the direction of her twin, that success on this score was also eluding Jasmine. ...

story continues from part five Chapter 6 Jasmine rolled over on the bed and peered through the gloom at the bedside clock. The green digital display announced that it was 6:23 am. It would, she knew, be another hour or so yet before it was light enough to see clearly. This meant that it would be at least that long before she could begin looking for the key to the handcuffs. And without that tiny piece of uniquely shaped metal, she was stuck here. This circumstance was of no concern to her, however. It had been five and a half hours since the clicking ratchets had informed her that she would not be able to slip her hands free from the manacles, so another hour wouldn’t be any great hardship. In fact, she relished the prospect of spending a further sixty minutes or so in her self-induced state of bondage. ...

story continues from part 6 Chapter 7 Hazel shielded her eyes against the wind and gazed out to sea. Despite the wintry sunlight, the wave-lashed Dorset coast, from high above on the cliffs, cut a depressing sight at this time of year. Away to the left, the headland of Hengistbury Head seemed to stand out defiantly and resolutely against the perpetual wrath of the breakers. And closer to her vantage point, the twin fingers of Boscombe pier and, almost directly below her, Bournemouth pier, stretched like clawing fingers out into the choppy grey waters of the English Channel. The beach and promenade, so crowded with bustling holidaymakers during the summer months, was virtually deserted now, with just the occasional jogger, dog walker or fresh air enthusiast braving the near Arctic temperatures. But that suited Hazel fine just now. ...

story continues from part 8 Chapter 9 “Hi Lauren, I’m back.” Steve’s shouted greeting as he entered the house was met only with silence. He wasn’t unduly worried about this lack of response at the time, however. Picking up the mail from the mat in the hallway, he absentmindedly threw this onto the table and went in search of his soulmate. Quickly ascertaining that she wasn’t on the ground floor, he hurried up the stairs and checked the bedroom, then the spare room - the latter known as their bondage playroom, or dungeon - but could find no sign of her. ...

story continues from part four Chapter 5 Amber gazed from the dark interior of the car out into the blackness beyond. Two down, two to go, she thought to herself. She briefly caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass and noticed that she was smiling slightly at the notion that the job was half complete, and that, so far, it had all gone according to plan. One of the ‘downed’ duo currently languished only a few feet away in the boot of the car in which they were travelling, whilst alongside her in the driver’s seat, one half of the pair that made up the ‘to go’ category sat, still oblivious to the fact that she would soon become just as much a victim of this whole deception as both her sister and her friend. ...

story continues from part 11 Chapter 12 What it was that caused Hazel to become momentarily distracted wasn’t clear to Steve at the time. Maybe it was a sound that alerted her to the presence of someone else in the doorway; the sound of feet on floor, a gasp of surprise, or even simply the act of someone breathing. Or perhaps she’d noticed something move out of the corner of her eye. It could have been a silhouette briefly crossing the path of one of the now casually positioned torches that caught her attention. Or possibly it was none of the above, but simply a ‘sixth sense’; the feeling of being watched that you have when you know that there’s someone present, although none of your five regular senses seem to have been the receptor to this knowledge. ...

story continues from part 12 Chapter 13 It was warm and cosy in the boot of the car, and the constant drone of the engine was causing Lauren to become drowsy. Next to her, Jade stirred slightly, and the low, rhythmic breathing sounds that issued from her nose told Lauren that her travelling companion had already dropped off to sleep. A sudden jolt, as the car stopped, brought Lauren back to full alertness. For a few seconds, the sounds of gates being opened filled the confined space, before the car moved onwards for a few more yards. Then the vehicle came to a more permanent halt and the engine cut out. Footsteps outside were swiftly followed by a brightness entering the cramped space, which coincided with the inrush of much cooler air. ...

story continues from part 9 Chapter 10 “Very nice. Very nice indeed!” Hazel purred with delight as she cupped Jade’s duct taped chin and forced the helplessly chained woman to stare upwards into her eyes. For several seconds she smiled unfeelingly at her prey, as if taking great pleasure from the fact that she was visibly quaking with fear. Then she briefly glanced back over her shoulder at the woman standing motionlessly by the door. ...

(A sequel to Ever Increasing Bondage) Chapter 1 Lauren shifted her arms from side to side, in an effort to see how much movement she was capable of. Not very much was the quickly discovered answer. The leather straitjacket creaked softly as she tested its restraining qualities; attributes which she knew, from many hours of experience, to be of a very high standard indeed. Even so, testing the efficacy of the tightly strapped garment was always an attractive way of passing the time; although, in truth, her other options in this regard were somewhat limited just at the moment. ...

story continues from part two Chapter 3 Lauren cursed under her breath. That must have been the fifth time in the past two hours or so that the phone had rung. Or was it the sixth? To tell the truth she’d lost count by now. But one thing she did know was that these constant interruptions weren’t exactly conducive to a nice, peaceful, relaxing session of self-bondage, which is what she’d been hoping for this Monday morning. ...

story continues from part 10 Chapter 11 Thud…thud…thud… Amber’s conjoined feet beat upwards at the roof of her confining box with as much force as she could muster. The problem was, however, that the shallow nature of her casket meant that building up any momentum was almost impossible, and the fact that the lid of her place of entombment was lagged with a thick layer of foam padding, only added to the muffling effect of her endeavours to make her incarceration known to the world. ...

Embed (verb) - To surround tightly or firmly; to envelop or enclose; to incorporate or contain; to fix into a surrounding mass Part One The sight of the tall gangly youth, loitering beneath the streetlight on the opposite side of the road, slightly unnerved Lisa as she hurried towards her destination. It may have only been her imagination, but she was certain that his eyes followed her; watching intently, eyeing her up even. Thank goodness she was nearly at the address she was looking for. ...

(story continues from Embedded) Part Two Under the circumstances, Lisa thought that her cries for assistance came out quite well; louder, in fact, than she’d previously thought possible. Unfortunately, the only person within earshot was Tom and within thirty seconds of her attempts to attract attention commencing, the bedroom light was on and he was there at the side of the bed, glaring in at her. “Stop that bloody noise, will you? Or would you rather have me make you shut up?” ...

The notion of being tied up had always held a strange fascination for Lauren, although until now her curiosity had lain dormant within her. Now, however, when the hint of an opportunity to actually participate arose, something stirred within her & she found herself desperately hoping that she was going to be able to experience firsthand something that had so far been merely a flight into fantasy. The nineteen year old slim, attractive brunette was staying the weekend at the home of two of her old school friends, Jade & Jasmine. Their parents were away for a few days, so the identical twins had invited Lauren to stay over until Monday at their house in the country. Not so much a house really, as a small mansion, with old creaking stairs, rambling corridors, cellars, an attic, & more rooms than Lauren had ever bothered to count. The house was set in several acres of its own grounds & boasted an orchard & a walled garden. Reached only by a long driveway from the road, the idyllic setting was peaceful, isolated & secluded. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage) Part 2 Lauren stopped and looked up at the old house with some trepidation. It was more than six months since she’d last been here, but the memories of what had occurred over those two days were etched indelibly into her mind, and would forever remain so. The house and surrounding grounds were almost exactly as Lauren remembered them, except that now the first green buds and shoots of spring had been replaced with the russet brown, red and yellow hues of autumn. The setting was peaceful and remote; idyllic in fact. But for the twenty year old female making her way up the long driveway, the sight of this rambling building, with its uneven tiles, crooked chimneys and ivy-clad brickwork, held mixed emotions. For it was here that her friends – the twins Jasmine and Jade – had subjected her to an ordeal that, she had assumed at the time, was to read as the final chapter to her short life on earth. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 2) Part 3 Lauren peered out through the tiny peep holes of the leather hood and sighed contentedly. The dim light from the single dusty bulb that hung from the ceiling cast shadows around the cellar, revealing only vague images and blurred outlines in the junk filled space beyond. Nothing moved and there was no sound, save for Lauren’s low breathing, which of necessity had to be through her nose alone. It must have been an hour or so since the twins had taken their leave and returned to the upstairs world, leaving Lauren to while away her time in a state of immobilised solitude. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 3) Part 4 A shiver surged up Lauren’s spine. But in stark contrast to the warm jolts of pleasure that had been coursing through her not much more than an hour ago, this shudder brought with it an icy chill and was born out of gut-wrenching fear. And if the nervous vibes given off by Jade and Jasmine were anything to go by, as they squirmed against their bonds in the tightly compacted space in which all three were trapped, it seemed that they too were experiencing the same levels of dread as their co-captive. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 4) Part 5 The party of three men and their female companion walked – casually, it seemed – over the low sand hills towards the spot where Lauren’s and the twins’ heads poked out of the ever diminishing strip of beach. When they reached a point around ten feet away from the three stricken young women, the men stopped, leaving Amber to approach on her own. Lauren watched as the black boots of the dominatrix approached and halted right by her head; so close, in fact, that the scent of the leather mingled with the salty air. As she moved, the soft creaking of Amber’s skin-tight latex cat-suit was audible over the crashing waves that were only a few feet away now… and getting nearer by the second. Amber looked down at her three helpless captives, a smile on her face as she surveyed the mayhem that – it was now obvious – had all been part of her devious plan. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 5) Part 6 Lauren sighed contentedly and curled up under the duvet. The warm bedding she’d been snuggled up in for the past few hours was in stark contrast to her experience of the night before, and she was grateful for the sense of security and wellbeing that she could now savour. It was still dark outside, although the first signs that daybreak was imminent could be seen peeping through the gaps between the curtains. Her vision, however, as she gazed out into the twilight of the bedroom, was not as sharp as it would have been under normal circumstances. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 6) Part 7 It seemed as if the world and everything in it had suddenly disappeared. Was this what it felt like to die? There had been a split second when the squeal of brakes had coincided with a swift slow down in the vehicle’s momentum… then nothing. Well, perhaps not quite nothing. The rain seemed to still be falling onto her face and spandex covered body and legs. And there was a soft whimpering sound from close by. There was no pain, but as she tentatively stretched her limbs, Lauren found that she was still unable to move. She was most definitely still in a state of very strict restraint, she concluded. So that meant that either she had died and gone to some sort of heaven for bondage addicts… or else she had somehow survived what seemed like an almost inevitable collision. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. All that met her gaze was a sea of blackness. For a second or two, she could make out nothing in what seemed like an endless dark void. But then she sensed this black whatever-it-was moving slightly. As her eyes focused, it became apparent that the blackness wasn’t quite so all-encompassing as it had first appeared, but seemed to have a slight shine or shimmer to it; as if some source of light, however faint, was bouncing off it. And then there was the smell; that familiar aroma of latex. Lauren cast her eyes upwards slightly, just as a low moan of anguish reached her ears from somewhere close at hand. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 7) Part 8 Cautiously, the figure resumed his journey into the depths of the cellar. It was obvious to Lauren, as he reached the bottom of the stairs, that he hadn’t yet seen her but had been made aware of someone’s presence by her unintentional yet stifled cry. She realised now that this part of the room where she lay, not far from the corner where Amber had been tethered, was in shadow, and that her view into the light was much clearer than his must have been peering into the darkness. He took a few steps further until he was standing in the middle of the room, directly beneath the only source of light, and to Lauren’s surprise she noted that he was dressed from the neck downwards in tight black spandex that shimmered slightly as he moved. It was, she knew immediately, a cat-suit almost identical to her own. She gasped again and without thinking shifted her position on the floor, and these two actions combined seemed to alert the unexpected visitor to her whereabouts. Cautiously, he took a couple of steps in the direction of what must have seemed like a wriggling, murmuring bundle in the shadows. ...

story continues from part one Long Time Bound 2 The bare bones of this story are based on facts. These events have then been embellished, enlivened and enriched with large helpings of fantasy and fiction, to create the story you are about to read: The age-old question: How do you first broach the subject of bondage with a woman? This has been a cause of some vexation for me over the years. After all, it’s not to everyone’s taste, and you risk scaring them off if you just blurt out the fact that you like being tied up, and even more so if you imply that you want to tie her up. It can also be quite embarrassing if you don’t know how your intended target is going to react. The subtle approach, I have come to conclude, is usually the best way. Try to pick up on something she’s said – however innocent and unconnected to the subject that might be – and then attempt to steer the conversation around to your own agenda. Then, if she shows any sign of interest at all – and provided she hasn’t run a mile - gradually let her in on your fantasies and obsessions. ...

The story you are about to read is based, in part, on true events. It is difficult to estimate what percentage is true & how much fabrication, but I would guess somewhere around 70/30 in favour of the truth. I will, however, leave it up to you, the reader, to decide which of the events described below actually occurred & which are simply a product of my vivid, bondage obsessed imagination. A word of caution before you start, however: the elements of the story that seem less plausible are more often than not factual, whilst some of the more mundane stuff may be simply fabricated to make the plot flow smoothly. It’s up to you to decide…. ...

(story continues from Long Time Bound) Part Two The bare bones of this story are based on facts. These events have then been embellished, enlivened and enriched with large helpings of fantasy and fiction, to create the story you are about to read: The age-old question: How do you first broach the subject of bondage with a woman? This has been a cause of some vexation for me over the years. After all, it’s not to everyone’s taste, and you risk scaring them off if you just blurt out the fact that you like being tied up, and even more so if you imply that you want to tie her up. It can also be quite embarrassing if you don’t know how your intended target is going to react. The subtle approach, I have come to conclude, is usually the best way. Try to pick up on something she’s said – however innocent and unconnected to the subject that might be – and then attempt to steer the conversation around to your own agenda. Then, if she shows any sign of interest at all – and provided she hasn’t run a mile - gradually let her in on your fantasies and obsessions. ...

(story continues from Long Time Bound 2) Part 3 The foundations of this tale are based on real events…with a large helping of fantasy added for good measure. I won’t bore you with a long story about how I came to be bound that Friday evening. Suffice to say that visits to see my rigger, Sarah, occurred on a frequent and regular basis, by which I mean maybe two or three times a week. On these occasions I would go to her house, have her tie me up, gag me and usually leave me that way for several hours while she watched television, did her housework or - very occasionally - went out for the night. Although Sarah and I had had a brief fling together a couple of years previous to the incident that I am about to document, we weren’t in a relationship at this time. We were, however, still work colleagues, and my after-hours visits served to sate my appetite for being kept in tight, inescapable bondage. Sarah’s views on this arrangement hovered somewhere between fascination and indifference, and up to now I had never really sussed out her true feelings on the subject. But the fact that she was willing to help me live out my ‘kidnapped by a beautiful woman’ fantasies was all I needed at the time. Simply being rendered helpless and left for an unknown length of time was something I’d always enjoyed experiencing, and the fact that I could now indulge in this pleasure every few days was all I really desired from our relationship. And Sarah was quite willing to go along with my strange little games, provided that I didn’t take up too much of her time. ...

(story continues from Long Time Bound 3) Part 4 “Here, put these on.” Tracey handed the pair of taupe coloured tights to me. “You want me to wear these… and nothing else?” Tracey smiled at me. “Of course. Now get undressed and do as you’re told.” I started to take my clothes off and began sheathing my legs in the tights, conscious that Tracey was standing on the other side of the bedroom, watching my every move. ...

(story continues from Long Time Bound 4) Part 5 (The day that Carolyn and I got ‘kidnapped’) It must have been at least two hours since I’d been left tied up in the small windowless basement room. But the length of time that I’d been left to my own devices didn’t mean that I was any closer to getting myself free. In fact, the copious amounts of rope that bound and held me in check were still as tight and efficient in their assigned roles as they had been at the moment of application. ...

Chapter 1: Cathy the Cat Burglar Cathy scaled the perimeter wall and momentarily sat atop the high brick structure. Her eyes swiftly scanned the landscape in front of her; no trace of guard dogs roaming the overgrown lawns, no sign of security personnel or movement sensitive lighting. In fact, aside from the wall and the securely locked wrought iron gates, there was very little sign of there being any preventative measures having been put in place to deter trespassers from getting into the grounds. Her gaze drifted further afield, towards the mansion house about one hundred yards in front of her. The rambling old building, with its Tudor architecture, had seen better days, but was still quite impressive, even when viewed in twilight. How many rooms were there? There must be at least a hundred, Cathy guessed, taking into account the towers that rose at each corner above the main body of the building. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 9) Chapter 10: The Hunt Bethany’s return to consciousness coincided with a ripping sound that seemed to have its origins very close at hand. Opening her eyes seemed to make no difference to the overall blackness that pervaded her vision and, not yet fully awake, forgetting the circumstances under which she’d fallen asleep, she panicked momentarily before the memory of where she was suddenly kicked in. The warm body of Cathy pressed hard against her torso, abdomen and legs, and any small movement that she inadvertently made, told her that the stringent crotch rope was still in situ and, judging by the ever so slight but also very real first awakenings of arousal that this engendered, ready to work its magic once more. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 10) Chapter 11: Strung Up, Bogged Down and Hung Out to Dry Bethany reluctantly hobbled away from Cathy as swiftly as her leg-irons would allow, taking the narrow but well defined pathway deeper into the woods. Still shell-shocked from the events of the past twelve hours or so, and with the recent revelation that she was now being held against her will at Shackleton Grange only just beginning to sink in, she had been loath to leave her only ally, but knew that it made sense for them to split up and go their separate ways. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 11: Strung Up, Bogged Down and Hung Out to Dry) Chapter 12: The Training Room Cathy shut her eyes, curled up into as tight a ball as she could manage, took one last deep breath and prepared herself for the searing pain which she knew couldn’t be more than a microsecond or two away. And sure enough, she felt something strike her left arm and resigned herself to the fact that the spandex cat-suit, which offered next to no protection, was about to be ripped into by either Fang’s dagger-like teeth or his equally effective claws. She could hear and smell the dog’s breath only inches from her head. But something didn’t seem quite right here. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 12: The Training Room) Chapter 13: And So to Sleep Cathy looked across to the doorway and her heart sank. Time seemed to freeze. If fear had been a marketable commodity, she could have made a fortune in the interminable seconds that followed. For blocking the only exit was the last person in the world that Cathy would have been hoping to see at that moment. Dolores was standing in a slightly more stooped posture than her usual upright stance, and her left hand was held against her stomach. As she moved further into the room, Cathy noticed her wince with pain, and realised that this had to be a consequence of Bethany’s delaying tactics. Her hair, previously immaculately styled, was now tangled and dishevelled, and her face was red; although whether the latter was due to rage or pain it was hard to gauge. Probably a mixture of both, Cathy decided. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 13: And So to Sleep) Chapter 14: The Wheel and the Well Bethany’s journey out of enforced sedation was a harrowing process. Initially resting in a dreamless, artificially induced state of deep sleep, her anaesthetised brain gradually entered a period where vivid images flashed across her mind’s eye. And the scenes that passed before her during this REM phase of her slumbers, forced her to relive a semi-factual account of the incidents that had befallen her since arriving at Shackleton Grange– with a few weird variations and impossible episodes thrown in for good measure. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 14: The Wheel and the Well) Chapter 15: A Plethora of Tortures The almost inaudible flutter of what seemed like a thousand candle flames; the soft plopping sound as a drop of molten wax fell to the stone floor; the gentle straining sound of the rope as it chaffed against the pulley, high above on the ceiling; the creak of the timber cogs, behind her back and out of sight. All these sounds paled into insignificance when compared to the thump, thump, thump of Cathy’s heart, and the irregular sound of her breath as she fought to keep her terrified mind and body under some sort of self control. Although remaining motionless wasn’t a problem for her in the short term, how would she fare after many hours of this stretched out immobility? What if she fell asleep and inadvertently stirred during her slumbers? Would this be enough to submerge Bethany in the deadly waters of the well? ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 15: A Plethora of Tortures) Chapter 16: Saskia the Amateur Sleuth Saskia checked the CCTV footage for what must have been the hundredth time. Although the image wasn’t crystal clear, she was convinced that the female figure seen walking along the platform at Ipswich station and then getting onto the East Suffolk branch line train was the missing woman. She leaned back in her chair and gazed out of the window of her office. After this morning’s rain, the late afternoon sunshine seemed to have brought the crowds out onto the streets of Ipswich, as directly below her window in Giles Circus, late shoppers mingled with people leaving off work for the day, with running and playing school children wending and weaving their way between the ever moving throng. Pigeons strutted and fluttered between peoples’ feet, whilst herring gulls wheeled overhead and landed on window ledges and roofs, waiting hawk-eyed for any scraps of fast food dropped by the passing human melee. Although dulled by the double-glazing, a general hubbub of everyday life could still be heard above the office sounds created by her fellow workers. Saskia gazed upon this scene for a minute or two, before her eyes were drawn further afield, to where the sun’s rays reflected back off the glass façade of the Willis Building. Pondering, she bit her lip. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 16: Saskia the Amateur Sleuth) Chapter 17: The Party A short series of slaps to the face was the catalyst that brought Saskia back into consciousness. These blows weren’t particularly hard, but they had the desired effect of forcing her to open her eyes and stare groggily at the person responsible for this assault upon her cheeks. As her eyes regained their focus, they made contact with those of another female only a few inches in front of her. These eyes, however, were about the only feature visible in a face otherwise covered from neck to crown of the head in a vivid pink hood which appeared almost glued to the contours of the wearer’s face. Saskia also received the impression that she was staring upwards at this woman, as if she were laid out on the floor, or maybe a bed. Behind the masked woman, another woman could be viewed, standing only feet away and looking down on the scene before her. She was wearing a bright red cat-suit that was moulded to every curve of her body, and the sight of this vision in crimson brought back to Saskia where she was and what she was doing here, although the exact circumstances of how she’d fallen asleep were a bit hazy. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 17: The Party) Chapter 18: A Clearer View of Things When Cathy again saw daylight after the conclusion of the ordeal she and Bethany had shared in the cellar, it was obviously late afternoon. Although the passing of the hours and days was not easy to gauge in her almost continuous state of sensory deprived imprisonment, a quick calculation told her that she had been held here for five days and five nights by this time, which meant that it must be Wednesday. So if Dolores’ assertion that this effort to brainwash both herself and her fellow captive was to commence next week, there were still at least four days in the interim period to be negotiated and survived prior to this form of mental indoctrination being forced upon them. What was going to happen in the meantime? None of the probable scenarios bore too much thinking about. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 18: A Clearer View of Things) Chapter 19: The Padded Cell There is a quote, often attributed to Albert Einstein (although there is some dispute over its provenance), which states that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. If this is true, then Cathy would most definitely have been certified by now, as she had by this time spent a week in extreme bondage, and had continually fought her restraints without success, yet still persevered with her attempts to free herself from what she must have by now known were inescapable circumstances. (The irony of this is, of course, that had she been pronounced insane, then the chances are that she would have ended up in a straitjacket and a padded cell, which would bring her full circle back to a situation not unlike that which had caused her to be diagnosed as mentally unstable in the first place). ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange) Chapter 2: Kangaroo Court To say that Cathy’s mind was in a state of turbulence would have been an understatement. With her future a complete unknown, the stricken woman spent a sleepless night on the hard, uncomfortable floor of her cell, with little to take her mind off the grave situation she found herself in. In all her years of breaking and entering, she had had a few close shaves. Once or twice, the owner of the property that she had been targeting had almost caught her in the act. Once she had even been chased by an irate, shotgun wielding elderly gentleman, whose valuables she had just managed to liberate. But each time, her feline like agility and speed had been sufficient to get her out of a fix. Even when, on two occasions, the police had arrived whilst she was still at the ‘scene of the crime’, she’d still managed to slip away and avoid capture. This time, however, there was no getting away. Although she knew that being arrested would probably result in her being given a custodial sentence – especially if the numerous other offences she’d committed could be linked to her and taken into consideration – she began to wonder whether this might actually be a more preferable outcome than the one looming large before her now. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 19: The Padded Cell) Chapter 20: The Training Room - Revisited Monday morning saw Cathy visiting the room with the three TV screens and high backed metal chairs for the second time. In contrast to her first, accidental, foray into this windowless chamber, however, the room was now bathed in bright light, with the three seats unoccupied - their attached straps hanging loosely from the rigid arms, legs and backs - and the screens merely lifeless grey rectangles against the backdrop of the featureless walls. The headphones lay discarded on the chairs; silent… at least for the time being. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 20: The Training Room - Revisited) Chapter 21: Saskia’s Unexpected Discovery With great difficulty, Saskia propelled herself, caterpillar fashion, across the floor of her padded prison. Reaching a corner of the room, she rolled over awkwardly and pulled herself up into a sitting position, with the soft, yielding wall at her back. The effort needed to achieve this posture had made her breathless, and the rag filling her mouth, plus the tape that held it in place, made taking in air a task that could only be accomplished through her nostrils. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 21: Saskia’s Unexpected Discovery) Chapter 22: Dolores’ Little Secret Dolores entered her spacious boudoir and closed the door behind her. To ensure that she received no uninvited visitors for the next hour or two, she secured it with the small key that protruded from the lock, before testing the handle to ensure that it was no longer capable of being opened. Not that this was a particular concern to her, as neither her three servants, nor the equal number of reluctant house guests that currently resided here, should have had any way of making it to the entrance of her own private apartment. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 22: Dolores’ Little Secret) Chapter 23: Saskia’s Plans Take Shape Saskia walked out into the hallway directly outside Dolores’ apartments, her mind reeling from the discovery she’d just made and – more importantly – what she’d just done. For several seconds, as she made her way towards the nearest staircase, the sound of muffled screams and stifled banging assaulted her ears. But as she put more distance between herself and the hellish rumpus that the Mistress of Shackleton Grange was stirring up, the less pronounced the sound became, until, once on the landing of the next floor down, it faded away, to leave the old house in a state of ghostly silence. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 23: Saskia’s Plans Take Shape) Chapter 24: A Shift in the Balance of Power What do you think would happen if, after having been kept tied up by their host for days on end, humiliated and scared out of their wits, three spandex-clad young ladies suddenly found that they had the run of the rambling old house in which they’d been imprisoned, with all the dungeons and other places of incarceration now available to them, and with copious amounts of bondage equipment such as ropes and shackles just sitting there waiting to be experimented with? ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 24: A Shift in the Balance of Power) Chapter 25: Dolores Alone Shackleton Grange basked in the shimmering heat of a languid spring afternoon; those ancient towers and spires standing proud against the gently rolling Suffolk landscape, as they had for centuries. And yet, today something was different. In the woods, a parliament of rooks held their daily conclave; their cawing that little bit more frenzied than normal, as they discussed the news filtering from the crumbling brickwork that a monarch had been dethroned, and debated the uncertainty of the interregnum. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 2) Chapter 3: Horse Play After what seemed like several hours, during which Cathy had no option but to remain in immovable stasis, the sound of several sets of feet approaching slowly but surely built in volume, until they sounded as if they were just outside the door. The turning of the key in the lock, then the creaking of the ancient wood, was swiftly followed by the unmistakable tones of Dolores’ voice permeating through the layers of latex. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 3) Chapter 4: The Crypt When she came to, Cathy found herself lying in the recovery position on the grass. For a second or two she forgot where she was and tried to sit up. But immediately she discovered that her arms were still encased in the unforgiving leather sleeve, although, on the plus side, she was no longer lashed to the trotting cart, and the bit had been loosened to allow it to slip from her mouth. The harness was still fastened tightly around her torso however, and the bridle straps continued to bite deeply into her face and neck. As the comprehension of where she was finally returned and her eyes were once more able to focus, she realised that there was a general hubbub of noise somewhere away to her right. Turning her head, she noticed most of the stable girls, plus Dolores and her three right- hand- women, all milling around a trotting cart that seemed to have overturned at a distance of around fifty yards from where she lay. It was obvious straightaway that one of the participants in the time trial had crashed, spilling her rider in the process. This was evidenced by the fact that the main group were now clustered around one of the woman, who was gingerly getting to her feet; her hair dishevelled and her skin-tight suit covered in dust and dirt. The ponies, all still harnessed to their carts, stood around gazing on helplessly. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 4) Chapter 5: Conflicting Emotions “Just where do you think you’re going young lady?” Less than two yards away, leaning against the wall, stood Dolores. Cathy froze. In her single-minded quest to exit the bathroom, she had failed to look further ahead for any potential hazards that might be blocking her route. Dolores sighed, disappointedly. “You really do like making life difficult for yourself, don’t you Cathy? I deliberately left you here all alone to see if you’d try something stupid, or whether you’d finally learnt that disobedience will always get you into trouble. I was hoping it was the latter, but I now see that my trust in you is misplaced. Looks like you need another lesson in discipline.” ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 5) Chapter 6: Bethany the Novice Bethany leant back in her seat and gazed out at the rolling Suffolk countrywide. The gently undulating fields, the farmhouses, the picturesque villages with their ‘Suffolk Pink’ cottages, and the occasional windmill, all flashed by in the late afternoon sunshine. But despite the views on offer, the pleasant scenery failed to make much impression on the twenty two year old, as her distracted mind wandered elsewhere. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 6) Chapter 7: An Evening of Discovery As Bethany entered the room, the soft hubbub of conversation died down, and all heads turned in the direction of the newcomer. She paused and stood nervously looking around at the assembled women; numbering twelve, if the calculation gleaned from her swift glance around the room was accurate. All wore tightly fitting cat-suits of various materials, which showed off their long legs and shapely figures perfectly. Eight of the women sat in two rows of chairs that had been laid out theatre-style in a semi circle. They sat giggling nervously and whispering to each other behind their hands, and shifted somewhat apprehensively in their seats. These, Bethany guessed, were her classmates. The two mute and hooded servants that Bethany had already encountered, stood to one side, as if waiting for orders. And they had been joined by a third, similarly dressed female, whose outfit, in contrast to the neutral tones of the other two, was a bright vivid pink. The final figure, who had been standing with her back to the door upon Bethany’s entrance, was Dolores. Sensing the new arrival’s presence, she turned and beckoned her to come forward. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 7) Chapter 8: A Shared Experience Dolores took two steps forward, her shadow looming large over the two figures hunched in the dark corner of the room; one entirely cocooned in duct tape, the other swathed only in fear. She bent over and grabbed the spandex neck of Bethany’s cat-suit, forcing her to stand up to her full height. From a distance of no more than six inches, she glared at her house guest, fury flashing in her dark eyes, although when she spoke, her words were those of someone calmly in control of the situation. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 8) Chapter 9: Ice and Fire For Cathy, the last twenty four hours or so had been a rollercoaster ride that had risen skywards and plunged the absolute depths between both ends of the emotional spectrum. **** Having found a strange yet satisfying sexual fulfilment through Dolores’ efforts on Sunday night, she’d slept well for the first time since her capture, and had woken only when a sound from close at hand disturbed her slumbers. The memory of that brief but enlightening encounter was still fresh in her memory, as was Dolores’ assertion that Cathy would - given a few days - begin to enjoy her time spent in inescapable bondage. But was that true? Could she really learn to love the sensation of not being able to move of her own volition? Whilst the experience of last night did indeed shine brightly in her memory, it was no more than a solitary lighthouse beacon on an otherwise unlit stretch of desolate rocky shoreline. ...