Part 1. Coming Out Chapter 1. I made the decision today. I am going to ask if I can have a boob job. After a year on hormones I have grown small puffy attractive boobs that women seem to love touching. Perhaps my boobs remind them of when they were feeling their own rising sexual appetites as they developed their teenage boobs or perhaps they bring out the latent lesbianism in some more mature women who sometimes become attracted to the teenagers beyond their normal reach and substitute me in their desires. ...

This is a side story to the trashy adventures of David and Christine. (This story is based on a fantasy our good friend malus infantia confessed to me and asked me to write. He seemed to have been quite inspired by our lovely trash queen, Jennifer. Hope you enjoy. - This story is told from the perspective of Jennifer.) “Yeah, yeah, she’s still here.” I’m sitting on my couch, my legs crossed as I talk on the phone to Christine. my slave, Rebecca, massages my feet. It had been a rather long day collecting garbage, and I didn’t get to play with any of it. At least I’ll be able to take my frustration out on my pretty little garbage slave. ...

Our bondage club meets every other Saturday night. We have anywhere from 8 to all 16 members present for our meetings. After a short session to take care of club business and collect dues, we engage in bondage sessions, with either volunteers or names picked from a coffee can as the subjects for that nights bondage scenes. At a previous meeting, a committee was appointed to design and build bondage devices that could be made by the club members. We already have the usual restraints; handcuffs, leather cuffs for wrists and ankles, bondage hoods, gags of various types, chastity belts, single armed gloves, bondage mittens, etc that would be found in any bondage clubs collection. We have also built some devices including a bondage chair anchored to the floor, standing and kneeling stocks, a spanking bench, a suspension harness and a bondage cross. ...

Marcy and I were on holiday in Brisbane. It was winter break, and one of the best times of the year to enjoy a visit. My name is Janet. — Janet and Marcy! We are lovers, but we go both ways, as long as we’re together. Neither of us is dom or sub, although I’m probably more of a sub than she is. But we’re both Bi, and it doesn’t bother us, knowing we can enjoy sex together, as well as with men. I guess that’s a strange relationship, but for us, it works! ...

(story continues from The Bondage Club 5: Bondage Sisters) Part Six: Din, din time Chapter 7 Mistress Amanda returned a couple hours later. Kendall’s arms and legs where sore from trying to hold her body upwards off of the table. Her nipples and clit where sore from the constant tugging. And her neck was sore from her sister Kim constant motion of riding the double dildo attached to her face. Kim on the other hand was now working on her seventh orgasm. Amanda watched as Kim rode the massive dildo in her pussy up and down steadily at first and then she looked as though she was slamming herself on it. Each time she lowered herself she pulled up Kendall’s head forcing her face between Kim’s buttocks. Over and over again, faster and faster until she could not hold back and erupted once again in bliss. Her head thrown back as cries of passion where heard through her ring gag. Her body shook and she sank down, the dildo buried deep into her sex and Kendall’s nose was once more pressed against Kim’s wrinkled rose bud. ...

from the 2007 Halloween special The best Halloween I had was the year of 2005. However, let me explain a few things about me 1st to start I am a bondage freak I love it. I am 31 and have yet to be in a BDSM relationship so I do allot of self-bondage but this story is not one of those times. It all started September 1st, a female friend of mine who knows about the stuff I am into but are too good an old friend’s to-do anything with each other’s. We were drinking coffee at her house and she asked me if I wanted to go to a Halloween party with her, I said yes but was not sure what I would wear since I wasn’t to good at the whole dress up thing. She stated she would call me few days before with some ideas. ...

It had been the perfect day for running - The sun was shining, but the air was cool and crisp, if it weren’t for the leaves crunching on the ground, Sallem would’ve spaced out a long time ago. The sun was nearly set now, though she was not afraid of the dark, but really wanted to get home, since running in the dark was dangerous - Potholes, cracks in the ground, and various rubbish as well. She’s a package runner - Not like a post worker, but rather, a drug mule to a certain extent. She never knew what she was carrying, the weight and size varied vastly, but it was always in a very non-descript package, and so thickly layered, that there was no inherent scent. After all these years, she figured it was probably drugs, or something illegal, but never had the guts to open one of the packages - Being the head runner for the pack that took her in off the streets, it simply was too important to not anger them. ...

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story line is drawn from another I read on the internet. In that story it was prison guards playing hangman with a prisoner and the prisoner was not only the guessing the letters but was the hangman suffering the consequences. This story is based off another use of the word game hangman and is a based on the popular long running game show. This story is purely fiction including the characters and any resemblance to any real person is coincidental. ...

(story continues from The Bones In The Dungeon 7) Part 8: Final Betrayal Part One I slept well with the self satisfying feeling that I had done the right thing, despite my regrets at trapping the devious bookworm in the cell next to mine for all eternity. My former ghostly dungeon master had recovered my magical book from it’s hiding place in the palace library on Halloween, the one day of the year when he could, and it was with this that I freed the real Beth Eckhart and trapped the bookworm whose body I claimed for myself. She had earned her fate with how badly she had treated me, and her revealed true intentions to steal the castle and it’s wealth for her own purposes. Henry would never know how close he came to loosing his family estate, nor of my many torments with the effects of the magical seal put on my tongue by the oath I foolishly made to the bookworm in her Beth Eckhart persona. ...

While the cat’s away, the mice will play! Well, not really, it is just a night out with the guys. I pulled into the driveway quietly humming to myself. Something seemed a little off as I opened the front door and let myself in. It’s just that the wife’s away for a week on a business trip, I rationalized to myself. As I walked into the house I glanced into the living room, for no particular reason, only to see Karen sitting there reading a book. “It’s about time you got home,” she admonished. I knew that Karen was somewhat of a switch, but today clearly Karen was in Dom mode, and that meant trouble for me. ...

This is not so much a short story as an explanation as to how this bondage tool or method works. The box is a punishment attention-getting device which removes activity or stimulation from the bottom for a long period of time. You might call it a “boring machine” for depriving most of the senses of stimulation. There is no light, nearly no sound, and most of all nothing absolutely nothing to do for 24 hours. This sounds simple, easy, and totally pain free and it is! Give it a try yourself; the box is the perfect self-bondage device or method. ...

(c) 1997 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read by minors. If you don’t like this sort of stuff or you are underage then don’t read. Contains some nc sex and a bit of sexual slavery, but then again most of my stories do. Can be freely distributed as long as it is not changed, including this heading. If it is to archived on a fee paying archive then please email me first for permission. Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies you want put into words etc. Don’t flame me if you don’t like the content or you don’t like my style. My address is [email protected]. ...

“You trust me, boy, don’t you?” Your question is rhetorical and, sitting on my knees, I quietly stare at the floor between them. You are my Master, of course I trust you. How could I not, you rule every aspect of my life. I love you and I trust you absolutely. “Well?” “Yes, Master.” The question wasn’t rhetorical after all, it seems. Our relationship wasn’t always like this. It started with a curious leap into the unknown on my part three years ago. I’d turned 18 and I had just realised that I had a fascination for bondage that badly needed to be fulfilled. We met on the internet forums and you offered to introduce me to the subject; it took a month of doubt and all my courage to accept your offer. When I returned home after a painful afternoon of stocks, whippings and slappings, I decided that maybe it wasn’t for me after all. ...

**Author’s note. This story is based on an image on the scenario that can be found on BoundAnna.com site called ‘A Game For 2’.** This story follows on from “I Need Help”. It had been some months since my neighbour, Andrea, had come to my help when I had got pathetically stuck at my first attempt at self bondage, following my discovery that Andrea was an experienced practitioner at the art. We had since become bondage partners, helping to tie up and photograph each other. Andrea showed me different and safe techniques of how to tie myself up and release mechanisms. I had even uploaded photos to self bondage websites, with the user name of ’envirotied’. I had grown in confidence practising bondage. ...

Mary Ann used her passkey to enter room 915. It looked like all of the other rooms on the ninth floor - well appointed with nice dark wood. Two colourful spreads covered the two queen-sized beds that sat against the right wall under a large print of a pastoral scene. Opposite the beds sat a huge cabinet that held the thirty-six inch color television set that provided almost one hundred cable channels including some premium items like Home Box Office. This was another of the more expensive rooms that littered the eighth and ninth floors of her father’s hotel. ...

We were playing cards Saturday night. Strip poker. I was down to a white thong, Jane had on a black cotton bra and pantie briefs while Charlotte wore only a skimpy red thong. This hand would decide the fate of either Charlotte or myself, or would be the penultimate hand should Jane lose. Jane dealt the cards to us all and I picked up my cards and looked in horror. I didn’t even have a pair. All my cards were low too. I threw down my lowest card, a two of Clubs in the hope I would have enough of a range of cards in my hand to get a pair. It was a big gamble on my part, but I had no choice. ...

He was a model husband, and his wife would have been the first to say it. He was kind to her, devoted in fact. He was an excellent father who spent time with his two boys, not spoiling them despite the fact that the family had considerable means. He saw to it that both boys knew the value of money and earned what they got. He was fourty-two, worked out regularly, took his wife out to restaurants, and allowed her to indulge herself from time to time. They lived in a modest house (considering their wealth), with one maid and a cook. He was J. Charles Parker III, the heir to a very wealthy corporate family. Since his father’s death, he had managed the business well, and despite financial ups and downs, the firm continued to profit. At parties, he was charming. With his wife, at home and in public, he was solitious and helpful. She was Jennifer Jane Pettygrove of the upstate Pettygroves - a family wealthy in its own right. She was thirty-nine, good looking, well educated, and as devoted to him as he was to her. It was a happy marriage on all counts. ...

Nick, the cable installer, was head-down in a cramped access door in the back of a kitchen cabinet, attempting to thread a connector onto an RT-6 cable. He almost had it when– “How’s it coming?” The voice, suddenly coming from above, so startled him that he dropped the connector and banged his head painfully on the back wall of the space. Awkwardly, he worked his way backwards out of the cabinet, until he was lying on the kitchen floor at the feet of his questioner. Even annoyed as he was, he could appreciate the view of black leather high heels and smooth legs going up to a slim pencil skirt. A pretty, inquisitive face under a copious amount of blonde hair looked down at him from above cantilevered breasts. ...

story continued from Breaking & Entering Malcolm Pettigrew thanked the driver, nodded the ghost of a bow to the Emir’s guard and strode down the path to the great man’s tent, the silent, light-stepping Henrietta Courtauld just behind him, her hair duly covered. He had been three months in the United Arab Emirates since his arrival as British Commercial Attache, and this was his first visit to the most obscure and traditional of the emirates, Bhagarem. Henrietta, his assistant, was not quite so new to the job, but she had not set foot here before either. ...

Hi everyone. This is fiction, one of my many little fantasies. But given the chance, just maybe I would try it for real! I’m sitting in the center of the back seat of a town car, naked, as we drive slowly through the city. I’m sweating, nervous because of my nudity, but that’s not all. My arms are outstretched along the back of the seat, cuffs on my wrists holding them in place. No matter how I tug or pull they won’t move, and I can’t use them to cover up at all! Not being able to bring my arms across me makes me feel even more naked than just being naked, if that makes any sense. And out here in the car, I feel that way even more! ...