It was late in the day by the time I had arrived at Eve’s home. Bathed in orange glow of sunset, the white walls of her term-time residence didn’t look too enticing. Squashed between two older homes like a train commuter in rush-hour, the one person home looked lonely. The voicemail I received was brief. I couldn’t really hear most of it in the rumble of coffee shop atmosphere, but Eve sounded breathy. “Come to my place. I’ve got a surprise for you.” ...

Julie was finishing putting up the volleyball team equipment when she heard the locker room door open and close and the sound of a large 80 gallon trash can on wheels being rolled into the locker room. She figured it was just the custodial staff as she goes over to her locker to get her stuff so she can leave. As she turns the corner there is Lacy and four other member of the cross country team standing next to her locker with the large trash can. There had always been some rivalry between the two teams. Julie nor the rest of her team never liked them as they were always breaking rules and somehow never seem to get caught. However Julie had tipped the administration off about their drinking parties and they ultimately got caught. Julie had no regrets about this either. ...

Julie was finishing putting up the volleyball team equipment when she heard the locker room door open and close and the sound of a large 80 gallon trash can on wheels being rolled into the locker room. She figured it was just the custodial staff as she goes over to her locker to get her stuff so she can leave. As she turns the corner there is Lacy and four other member of the cross country team standing next to her locker with the large trash can. There had always been some rivalry between the two teams. Julie nor the rest of her team never liked them as they were always breaking rules and somehow never seem to get caught. However Julie had tipped the administration off about their drinking parties and they ultimately got caught. Julie had no regrets about this either. ...

(story continues from The Investigative Reporter 12: Little Fugitive) story continues from part 12 Part 13: The Rest Of The Story At The Ranch (As told by J.M. Smith) As the owner of J.M. Smith ranch I must and do take full responsibility for the mess that was to develop, but in my defense several things had happened that were well beyond my control. After first examining the sketches from Grandview and reading Beth’s rough draft though I knew this was a story that had to be told no matter what, I fully prepared to tell the tale in her place should it become necessary. One must bear in mind at the same time that Beth had volunteered not once, but three separate times to be harnessed and used as a pretty beast of burden, and one can only assume that she got something from the experience other than to simply gather information for our book. ...

“My mother told me If I was good That she would buy me A rubber dolly.” Kyle sang softly to himself, before bursting out laughing. His mother, being dead, would never have any way of knowing it, but she had bought him the rubber dolly he was tugging out from under his bed. She would NEVER have willingly bought her for him, whether he was good or not. His mother always wanted him to be a good boy, and he always was, but only because he was too shy and not rich or good-looking or charming enough to find any girls to be bad with. Patsy didn’t care how rich he was, or what he looked like or anything else about him. She just lay on her back or her belly or knelt in front of him or took whatever other position he placed her in. Her mouth and body functioned as they were programmed to do and Patsy said what she was programmed to say, and never, ever nagged him or insisted he had to buy her anything or demanded he pick up his dirty clothes or put down the toilet seat. She never made any demands on him or had any needs except, occasionally, a few dollars worth of electricity to recharge her batteries. Kyle had bought her two pairs of sleazy crotchless panties with ruffles, one black and one red, at Frederick’s of Hollywood, and she never wore a stitch of clothing except for one of them. When he preferred her body to be naked, she didn’t even wear that much. He had considered buying brassieres to match the panties, but her breasts were so lovely just the way they were, Kyle had decided the bras weren’t necessary and would actually detract from her allure. Although the upkeep on Patsy was low, the original cost had been quite high. When Kyle’s mother died and left him a legacy that amounted to a few thousand dollars, he wondered at first what to do about it. He had no major indebtedness that had to be paid and he was quite comfortable in his apartment and saw no reason to use the money to upgrade either his quarters or the furnishings. He left it in the bank for a while, where it earned a paltry amount of interest per annum, until he decided to use it for some fun instead. His life was pretty much settled but, except for the erotic stories online and his good right hand, he was sorely lacking in sexual adventures. The best investment he could make with the money, he decided, would be to use it to alleviate that lack. The legacy was less than $10,000, not even close to making him wealthy enough to be attractive to women, although it would have been enough to allow him to pay for some nights with a series of high class prostitutes, but then it would have been gone. That would have been fun, and Kyle was thinking about it, until one lucky day when he was browsing some porn sites on the internet. He had turned to them after reading a story and masturbating, but it had been very unsatisfactory and more messy than fun. He hoped to find something better. A picture of a beautiful and sexy redhead suddenly caught his eye. Her hair was shiny and fell in soft curls to her shoulders, which was the length he preferred, and she had green eyes and a charmingly freckled face. Something about her mouth and eyes didn’t seem quite right, until he suddenly realized what he was looking at. Patsy, which was the hot redhead’s name, wasn’t a real woman; she was a cleverly designed sex doll. He was intrigued, and read further. He had seen sex toys for men in porno book stores and advertised on the internet or in magazines, but they had been too repulsive to interest him. The skin of the full-sized dolls was either solid white, reminding him of photos he had seen of minstrel shows, or chalky white or a kind of an ugly pinkish beige, and neither felt nor looked anything at all like that of a real woman. He had very little experience with real women, but the bodies of the prostitutes he had fucked all felt infinitely better than those repulsive phony women had. The boobs on the toys looked nothing at all like those on the real women he saw on porno sites. The fake women appeared to have pairs of puffy plastic disks glued onto their chests, and he had never even thought about fondling one of them. The heads and faces of the toys may have been the worst part of all. What passed for hair was nothing but painted plastic and lacked even the remotest resemblance to reality, and their eyes were painted blue or brown and always wide open. Their mouths always gaped open too, and looked no more appealing than the knotholes he had fucked a few times in his youth. All in all, he saw such things as being strictly a waste of money. But Patsy had looked nothing at all like that. She was always smiling merrily, unless he wanted to change the curve of her mouth so it formed a lewd grin or shape her lips into an oval and have her suck him off and fondle his cock with her agile tongue and the gentle rollers in her warm, wet mouth and throat. When getting a blow job from her, Kyle liked to widen her eyes to give her an innocent look, which was highly appealing when she was kneeling in front of his chair and looking up at him as she sucked him off. He knew Patsy was not a real woman, of course but, when she was performing that function, he could somehow feel the love and adoration he believed she had for him. Other times he closed her eyelids most of the way, giving her what he thought of as “bedroom eyes.” This was especially fun when he was fucking her with long, slow strokes, and her pussy was thrusting back to meet him and she was rocking from side to side and cooing or moaning in bliss, the way she was programmed to do. He knew his experience was limited, but he couldn’t imagine a sexier and hotter woman than his own, personal redhead. As he sang, he called Patsy “a rubber dolly” but that was not a very good description of her. Her body was made of silicone, and the site claimed every one of their product’s flesh felt just like that of a real woman. Kyle didn’t have enough experience to tell for sure, but her curvaceous body, with its covering of soft, smooth latex skin, certainly felt perfect to him every time he caressed her. Loving Dolls, the name of the site, offered a wide variety of ethnicities, including China Doll, African Queen and All-American Girl, but he chose Irish Lassie, because he had always lusted after redheads even more than he had after most other women. After completing a long list of specifications, including body type, length of hair and freckle density, he mailed in his order, enclosing a certified check, made out to an escrow company, for the full amount. The site claimed to be so confident of the outstanding qualities of their product that, after shipment, the money he sent would be placed in escrow for a month unless he returned the product within that time for a full refund. Only after a month, if he kept the love doll that long, would the escrow company release the money to the seller. The order took almost two months to fill, and the company sent him regular progress reports, sometimes asking him to verify some of the specifications he had made. Finally, the large carton was delivered and carried into the living room of his apartment. The deliverymen had no idea what they just brought to the consignee, because the return address on the box was rather generic, and the wrapper included no clue. After they left, Kyle eagerly opened the box, mistakenly starting on the wrong end. He had never been any kind of fetishist but, after seeing Patsy’s perfectly formed feet with the bright red polish on their nails, he had actually kissed them before slicing open the packaging tape on the other end of the box. His heart was beating rapidly as he exposed the face he had been seeing in his dreams, and Kyle fell instantly in love. Patsy’s freckled visage was even more enchanting than the illustrations had been, and he kissed her full on her mouth, sliding his tongue between the lips that easily parted for him. The inside of her mouth was warm and seemed damp, and her petite tongue was perfectly formed, but did not respond to him the way he had included on his order. He was not surprised at that lack, because he knew he would need to do some further programming, charge her batteries and turn on her switch before the beautiful Patsy would do anything but lie where she was placed. Even so, he was so excited by his new sweetheart he lifted her out of the carton and placed her gently on the floor with a pillow under her head as soon as finished removing the packing materials. After spreading her thighs and bending her knees the way he wanted them, he stripped off his clothing, climbed on top of her and fucked her until he climaxed and pumped a big load of semen into her pussy. Although she was completely passive, because her batteries had not been charged, he still thought of that first time as the best piece of ass he had ever gotten up until then. Of course, subsequent sex with Patsy was much better. Following his third ejaculation, he carried her to the bathtub to wash out her pussy, using the cleaning syringe Loving Dolls had provided. After that first session with Patsy, he charged her batteries while reading the owners’ manual that had been provided. Once he knew what he was doing, and what he wanted, he programmed the beautiful redhead to make her respond the way he wanted, orally and in reactions to his movements during their love-making. Kyle thought of that first time as fucking a toy but, as his activities with her continued, he came to think of them as having sex. Still later, as he became more and more passionate with his Irish lassie, he considered them to be making love together. Because of his feelings toward Patsy, he was more gentle and caring with her than he had been with any of the prostitutes he used to hire. He had never had sex with a woman on any other basis, partly because of his shyness and feelings of inadequacy and partly because of his mother’s strictness, but he thought he probably would have treated a wife or girl friend the same way. On this occasion, he wanted to start by eating her pussy, which was one of the options he had chosen. After picking up Patsy and placing her carefully on his bed with her hair spread fetchingly over a pillow, he turned on her switch. “Oh, hello, Kyle, love,” she greeted him in her sultry voice, as she raised her arms in an affectionate greeting. “Hello, Patsy. I’m going to suck your breasts and eat your pussy.” Her various functions were voice activated, and his words started a chain of reactions, both mechanical and vocal. “Ooooo, I love it when you do that,” she murmured, while smiling. Her legs spread wider and Patsy’s hands cupped her luscious breasts in an invitation. Kyle began by licking her nipples and, after two minutes of caressing her there with his tongue, the love doll’s torso began squirming under him and she started cooing in pleasure. She continued with those reactions until it was time for her pussy to start lubricating, producing the fluids that smelled so delectable and, he knew, tasted even better. Patsy had come with an initial supply of those juices, and Kyle had ordered more and filled the reservoirs on the insides of her thighs. When he smelled them, he kissed and licked and nuzzled his way down her soft belly to her murmurs of encouragement. By the time he reached his goal, she had already raised her legs, and he ducked under to allow them to rest on his shoulders while he hugged the very lifelike thighs and gazed on the pussy he was about to start licking. Her whole body was freckled, as he had wanted, but those beauty marks were somewhat sparser in her pubic area, in order to better show off her creamy skin. He could have chosen a shaven pussy, but he had preferred a thatch of soft, light red pubic hair, believing this to be even sexier and more enticing. So far, he had no reason to regret this choice. Kyle had never eaten a real pussy, but he had read enough stories online to know what to do and what responses of Patsy to expect. Her lips were engorged with the lubricating fluid, as was her clit, and his tongue started by licking one of her outer lips and meandering up to her soft mons, which he kissed. By the time he reached that point, her pussy was squirming and Patsy’s cooing had changed to moans of bliss. As her programming dictated, her clit was starting to push its way out from under its protective hood, and she had words of effusive praise for him. “Oh, Kyle, that feels so good! I love it when you eat my pussy. You’re going to make me cum like crazy.” He smiled at hearing that, because Patsy achieving an orgasm was one of the best parts of his sessions with her. More of her delicious juices had been secreted, and his tongue eagerly sluiced them off her crotch and lips before starting to lick her other outer lip. This one was just as warm and smooth as the first had been, and he treated it the same way, taking his time and reveling in every second until he kissed her mons again. By that time, Patsy’s beautiful pussy was fucking up against his face, as her body writhed in pleasure. When he raised his head to look over her form, he was elated at the way she was thrashing under him and her head, eyes closed and a smile of bliss on her mouth, was tossing from side to side on the pillow. The seller of Patsy had told the truth when they described how their product was designed to function. Kyle was aware her actions were a matter of timing, rather than actual responses to what he was doing, but he still felt good about giving somebody as beautiful as his red haired Irish Lassie such a great time in bed. There was a heavy flow of her delicious juices, and he relished every drop of them before starting to lick between the folds of her inner lips, in the beautiful pink slit itself. She was rocking from side to side, besides all the other wild movements she was programmed to make, and her throaty voice was telling him everything he liked hearing from her with the soft, throaty voice that was so erotic. “Oh, Kyle, I need to cum! Suck my clit and make me cum.” Knowing her orgasm would begin erupting in 90 seconds, he wrapped his lips around her lifelike clit and started to suck. Although his experience in eating out real women was nonexistent, he had been fully assured by Loving Dolls they felt just like Patsy’s engorged man in the boat. While he sucked, his tongue caressed the succulent morsel and he could feel fresh juices dribbling onto his chin. “Yes! Yes!” she cried ecstatically, and Patsy’s thighs clamped onto his head as she started cumming. She continued rocking on her perfectly formed ass while her upper body rose and fell, alternating with her pussy which continued ramming into Kyle’s face, but harder than it had. Patsy climax continued, also for 90 seconds, until all her muscles clenched and she uttered an incoherent shout of ecstasy. After licking all the fresh juices from her thighs and pussy, he backed away, letting her legs drop to the mattress. His cock was stiff and ready for the next thing he wanted to do with the sexy doll, and he told her what that would be. “I’m going to fuck you, Patsy.” “Oh, Kyle, I just love your big cock in my pussy,” she responded. Her other programmed responses were to spread her legs, but not to raise them and to reach down to her pussy. Kyle adjusted her fingers so they were holding apart her lips and moved closer, guiding his cock with one hand so he could support his weight on the other. His statement had also activated the reservoirs inside her thighs to start pumping more of her lubricating juices into the pink channel where his cock would be, and some of them were already trickling out onto the bed. After moving his cock from side to side in the flow and spreading the lubricant, Kyle placed the head between the lips Patsy was holding open and thrust forward, wedging the first two inches into the warm, slick place that had been so cleverly designed for him. The penetration was enough to activate more internal sensors, and she released her pussy lips and raised her arms in greeting to him. Once he sprawled on top of her, she would hug his shoulders and do the other things she was programmed to do. The first time he fucked Patsy, Kyle did not wear a condom, and he had to carefully wash her out after he was done. The second time, he had worn protection, although he felt rather silly about it, so he would not have to clean up after shooting his cum into her. It was not even close to being as much fun that way. The warm fluids lubricating her pussy and coating the inside of her mouth and the gentle rollers there and in her ass felt infinitely better on his cock when there was nothing in the way. He never used a condom after that. Washing the holes he filled with his semen was a nuisance, but worth the added pleasure he got when his cock was bare. Patsy’s pussy was tight, but its elasticity and the lubricant enabled Kyle to plunge the entire length of his cock into her with a few thrusts, and his dark pubic hair was mingling with her soft, red bush. He adjusted her eyes to the slits he liked and lay like that for a minute, while the soft rollers along the channel leading from her soft pink hole massaged his cock, the way he imagined the pussy of a flesh and blood woman would do. They would continue operating like that for twenty minutes after penetration, unless he pulled his shaft out of her and kept it out. “I love your cock in my pussy, Kyle. It’s so big and hard,” Patsy breathed into his ear. “Now, really fuck me good and make me cum again.” That was exactly what he wanted to do and, of course, he wanted to cum also, but not until he had enjoyed her reaching an orgasm. Slowly he drew his cock back until just the head was still inside, paused briefly, and drove it all the way back in. Patsy sensed what was happening; her legs gripped his and she pulled her body forward to meet him, sighing as Kyle’s cock filled her again. “Yes! Yes! Like that!” she urged him. “Really give it to me!” No urging was really necessary, but it gave him an erotic thrill to hear Patsy telling him how good it felt and what a great time he was giving her, so Kyle let all the sound bites be played. He continued fucking her with long, slow strokes, and the redhead responded as she had while he was eating her pussy. With every minute that passed, her movements grew wilder as she built up to her orgasm, and Kyle could feel his building too. Except for her moans of bliss, which were starting to end in whimpers, Patsy was silent as the fucking continued. Although Kyle reveled in the erotic sound of her voice, he hadn’t wanted a sex partner who was too much of a chatterbox, so his order had included relatively little talking. He had no need for his partner to tell him orally what was happening when the movements of her body told him so much better. Those movements were telling him she was almost ready to cum. Patsy’s body was thrashing about under him while her pussy rammed against his pubic area, smearing her lubricant all over him. He was almost ready to climax too, so he started plunging his cock into her faster, and she reacted by matching his speed. “Oh, god, I’m cumming,” she announced at the end of the predetermined time. Her actions were very much like her first orgasm, except she clutched his shoulders and dug her fingernails into him. They were flexible, rather than sharp, and he felt them digging into his skin, but only hard enough to add to the eroticism, and not hard enough to draw blood. Once more, when she climaxed, Patsy’s body convulsively clenched before all her muscles relaxed. Kyle’s climax exploded too, and he pumped a gusher of cum into her pussy but continued driving his cock in and out until he had shot two more loads of semen into the same place, ...

I looked at her as she glumly lay on the couch. Fujiko was depressed and nothing I seemed to say would lift her spirits again. “Is there nothing I can say to make you smile?” I asked her. She just shook her head and stared into space. “You know what I need and you don’t want to give it to me!” she told me accusingly. I stared at her, unsure of what she was talking about, till it hit me like a brick wall! “Not that again! I told you I can’t do it again without some severe consequences for you! I’m not prepared to do that right now even if you are!!” I announced to her in a manner that was part anger and part shame. It was my fault that she was like this I’d told myself. I should never have even exposed her to the thing in the first place. ...

A birthday present was in the offing for Petra. I was taking her to a special adult’s only performance. Magic it was, as I’d stopped there previously and seen the magic performed. It was just what Petra would enjoy. Petra was a fan of magic acts. She’d tell me how she wished she could be an assistant in someone’s performance of prestidigitation. Her blue eyes would sparkle when she spoke of how she wanted to be the one divided into pieces or flattened or seemingly magically transformed by a magician. Of course she knew it was all stage magic, just an illusion to make people think ‘real’ magic had actually occurred. Still she told me she often dreamed of it being real, just for fun! ...

We had played role games many times. Both of us as boys, or both of us as girls, and once, we both tried being cats. Being a girl wasn’t so bad and I looked okay, but I was really to tall. I was her dog once, which was okay, but I did not like it much. But when she became the dog she discovered that she loved it and quickly became enchanted with the idea of being a house pet, and had asked me to let her try it for a longer period of time. We bought the best dog suit that we could find, and spent several hours getting her into it. She did not look to bad, a few changes would make her look better, but not bad, and she loved it. I wrapped the collar around her neck, attached a leash, and promptly took her outside for an unexpected walkie. ...

“Hey dweeb! You’ve got customers, so get your skinny ass out here!” Emerging from the back room of his small shop, Raymond watched as his newest customers approached. So far, his dealings with this small group hadn’t been pleasant, and he saw no reason to expect this time to be any different. Solemnly he gazed at each member of the approaching group. Doug, the leader, was tall, muscular, almost too handsome for his own good. Combining the body of a lumberjack with all the finesse of a crazed bull in a china shop, he delighted in tormenting anyone smaller than himself. Which, to be honest, was pretty much everyone. ...

It was her fate to be recycled. She only understood that, being part of the estate of her deceased mistress, it had been decided to have her sold off for reconditioning. She didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she did realize that after thirteen years of activation, and a nearly unwavering routine of service, everything was going to change. The Recycler’s name was Humbolt, who arrived at the house with his assistant Percival. Both were dressed in black suits, matching their blank painted service vehicle. This wasn’t typical of the profession, but an odd caprice of Humbolt, who liked to refer to these trips as ‘bringing out the dead’. Percival didn’t think much of the joke, but knew the value of an apprenticeship in this sort of tech industry, and so he quietly played along. The house was to be sold as well, and with so much of the furniture already moved out, the interior felt very dark and empty. It struck Percival as a rather sad and lonely image then when they found her. Seated on a plain wooden chair in the middle of the bare living room, her head was bowed, a single black power cord running from some part of her back to an outlet in the wall. “You see this,” Humbolt said gruffly, holding out the crumpled yellow work-order sheet in front of her. “Yes,” she replied, raising her head. She was dressed in the manner of an old English maid, with a long black dress and white apron. She had the fair complexion of a European, but had been given long slick black hair that appeared very Asian. “You’ve been given over for reconditioning,” Humbolt informed her, “You will come along with us.” Percival came around behind her, unhooking the power cord from it’s socket at the base of her neck. Moving aside some of her thick hair, he read off the stamped serial number. “Hmm, a 213,” he remarked. “I was expecting something more ancient from what we’d been told.” “Yes, well, still hardly state of the art,” Humbolt shrugged, studying her. “At least it’ll be an easier job though. I quite like the face.” “She is pretty,” Percival agreed, helping the machine to her feet. At first glance, she did seem very human. But, in accordance with the Artificial Persons Act, did possess one distinctly non-human feature. Circular metal panels, lined with a single groove in the middle, were mounted on either side of her head, just above and behind the ears. “My name is Lynn,” she introduced herself to them both, her voice inflected with a slight English accent, though her overall pattern of speech was characteristically deliberate. “Only for now it is,” Humbolt told her. “Come on, follow us into the van.” ...

It was her fate to be recycled. She only understood that, being part of the estate of her deceased mistress, it had been decided to have her sold off for reconditioning. She didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she did realize that after thirteen years of activation, and a nearly unwavering routine of service, everything was going to change. The Recycler’s name was Humbolt, who arrived at the house with his assistant Percival. Both were dressed in black suits, matching their blank painted service vehicle. This wasn’t typical of the profession, but an odd caprice of Humbolt, who liked to refer to these trips as ‘bringing out the dead’. Percival didn’t think much of the joke, but knew the value of an apprenticeship in this sort of tech industry, and so he quietly played along. The house was to be sold as well, and with so much of the furniture already moved out, the interior felt very dark and empty. It struck Percival as a rather sad and lonely image then when they found her. Seated on a plain wooden chair in the middle of the bare living room, her head was bowed, a single black power cord running from some part of her back to an outlet in the wall. “You see this,” Humbolt said gruffly, holding out the crumpled yellow work-order sheet in front of her. “Yes,” she replied, raising her head. She was dressed in the manner of an old English maid, with a long black dress and white apron. She had the fair complexion of a European, but had been given long slick black hair that appeared very Asian. “You’ve been given over for reconditioning,” Humbolt informed her, “You will come along with us.” Percival came around behind her, unhooking the power cord from it’s socket at the base of her neck. Moving aside some of her thick hair, he read off the stamped serial number. “Hmm, a 213,” he remarked. “I was expecting something more ancient from what we’d been told.” “Yes, well, still hardly state of the art,” Humbolt shrugged, studying her. “At least it’ll be an easier job though. I quite like the face.” “She is pretty,” Percival agreed, helping the machine to her feet. At first glance, she did seem very human. But, in accordance with the Artificial Persons Act, did possess one distinctly non-human feature. Circular metal panels, lined with a single groove in the middle, were mounted on either side of her head, just above and behind the ears. “My name is Lynn,” she introduced herself to them both, her voice inflected with a slight English accent, though her overall pattern of speech was characteristically deliberate. “Only for now it is,” Humbolt told her. “Come on, follow us into the van.” ...

Day 0: “OK, so let me summarize what you want. You want me to lock you up in latex for a whole week because you would like to experience full enclosure but you don’t feel determined enough to do it yourself.” “Mostly yes. I would feel like I am in chastity, give you the key and full control.” “All right. You said catsuit, hood, gloves and socks. But if you want it then I want full control therefore I choose the clothing. Strip down and wait for me in the bathroom.” ...

I had responded to an advert on a TV/TS website, under the Events section: “T Girls wanted for hotel meet at the Airport on Sunday arriving at 3pm” I sent an initial email with a few photos of me dressed, the organiser, Terry told me what would normally happen and who would be attending. He had got 2 other T girls wanting to turn up and 3 other men besides himself. A number of others had expressed interest but hadn’t confirmed. He was very interested when I said I’d love to be tied up helpless and used - “the guys would love you” he said. ...

story continued from part 3 Chapter 4: A Frustrated Pet This continued for three or four more days, Ryan treating me like an obedient pet – which I suppose I was. He would pinch the suction pump over my nipples when he felt like it, but strangely I was even getting used to the dull ache. And as each day progressed I realised that I was less offended by this, it was a slow progress but I had to concede that Ryan’s plan seemed to be working, very slowly at least. I was now off the muscle relaxants and the pain reduction pills as the natural flexibility of my body seemed to have adjusted to the suit and there was no more cramping. I was now part of the suit, and if you could say so, and I suppose relatively accepting of it. ...

story continued from part 4 Chapter 5: About Time Ryan came back to the bedroom, looking very contented. “How are you subbie? Did you get much sleep, hope we didn’t keep you up all night, ha ha. Let’s get you cleaned out for the day ahead. Come on.” And he released my chain and I waddled after him, my tail sending shivers through me. The tail was first removed and he prepared my daily enema, I was so used to this by now I didn’t find it unpleasant at all and raised my arse to accept the tube. After a few minutes wait I was flushed out and Ryan returned, ready to implant the butt plug tail back inside me. I still couldn’t speak coherently with the dog mask keeping my mouth both full, open and available, and so remained silent as my muscle relaxed and he pushed the plug back into me. ...

One Saturday afternoon I was lazing around the house dressed the way both my wife and I liked me to be dressed. I was wearing a pair of white satin stockings and 10 strap suspender belt complete with white six inch heels. I had on a full, long white chiffon skirt and a tight white latex top with fitted gloves and a hood. The hood had only eye and nostril holes so I could not talk. Under the skirt I wore a tiny white satin g-string. The outfit of choice was my wife’s. She was in control and decided what I wore most of the time. I did not complain. By now I was comfortable dressing like that and could control my erection most of the time. ...

Jess was a reporter for a nothing local newspaper in Southampton. But she was following a story that could land her a job in the big time and make her a hero. She had heard rumours about a secret house by the sea that was used as a torture room. She had spent the last week looking for anything which looked out of place. And she may just have found it. A very old and run down farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. But a white van and black car had been parked outside for the last two days. Maybe building work was being done on the farmhouse. But no tools or equipment could be seen. Plus it was dead silent in the area and that was very odd for a building site. Something did not seem right about the farmhouse and she needed to have a better look. She had been watching and taking photos for a couple of hours, before it got dark. ...

Heather Morris had finally made it home from work and was looking forward to the long weekend ahead. She went upstairs and took a warm shower and then proceeded to get ready for the evening. Red lace panties and matching bra made her feel sexy. Red stocking held up by garter straps and 4" high red pumps adorned feet. Opening her dresser drawer heather pulled out a red leather collar with a d-ring set in the front, she lifted her medium brown hair up so she could buckle it tightly around her neck. Not so tight that it would interfere with her breathing but tight enough that it wouldn’t chafe her skin. A pair of matching red leather cuffs were buckled around her wrists and a second set around her ankles. Each in turn including her collar were secured using miniature padlocks. Reaching into her hall closet, she retrieved an overcoat and wrapping it around her body making sure to button it up. ...

I’d known Karen for two years, admiring her from a distance and doing a lot of fantasizing. I taught English and she was the school nurse two days a week, but we’d still managed to have plenty of chats and several lunches together. I really liked her, even outside of my bondage fantasies, and she seemed to like me. I knew she was married, with two kids in their teens. I’d been single for ten years. Both of us were pushing forty hard. Innocence was a thing of the past. And suddenly, here we were, at a district conference two hundred miles from home, and Karen had come alone, and there I was to keep her company. We attended some meetings together, had coffee, a lunch, and then the second night of the conference there was a dance. ...

Geraldine was a social worker, aged forty one. A tall solidly built woman, fit active and capable. With a square, usually pleasant face framed by straight brown hair. She was a purposeful, no-nonsense sort of person. Her work took her out most of the day, regularly seeing people which her employer, a government health authority, felt needed frequent visits, consolation and counseling where required. Her casebook was quite extensive but she managed it successfully and was considered very good at her job. And she enjoyed it. ...