DISCLAIMER: This story is a fantasy which contains graphic depictions of people in bondage and fetish scenes and is therefore adult in nature. This story is fictional and any resemblance it bears to anyone alive or dead is purely coincidental. It is also a terrible idea to start a relationship this way and should never be done by anyone, least of all through an intermediary, no matter how much you “trust” them. The author doubts that anyone had read up to this point. ...
story continues from part eleven Part 12: Broken Kat was helpless, trapped in extreme rubber bondage. She was made to breath slowly through her gas mask by the machines and computers that controlled her. She was completely unable to move inside the metal space suit. She spent the first 30 minutes trying to escape. She struggled, she wriggled, she pulled and pushed against the leather cuffs and expandable form holding her restrained. After a couple of hours Kat had stopped trying to escape, she know it was hopeless. She just couldn’t move an inch. This was only made worst by the computer ordering the first round of fitness shocks. They would keep Kat’s muscles strong and healthy. ...
NB: For those that might not know, the title is a song by Jimmy Buffett “I’m forty,” she said, taking a sip from her martini. I doubted it–I thought fifty was a better estimate. But she had a nice smile, a lot of dark hair, a good figure displayed by a low cut, skintight dress, a friendly attitude, and we’d had some pleasant conversation, so it didn’t matter. “Well,” I said, “It’s a good thing I’m a pirate.” ...
“Comfy?” “Mmfff” “No, I do not think so. You are blind. You cannot see with the hood on. Not one speck of light. Your world is darkness.” “You have noise cancellation earwigs. You will only hear what I want you to hear. The only sound you might hear. Strain to hear. Is your own heartbeat.” You will soon not be able to speak. Or wish to. The gag suppress every sound. But soon you will not want to make a peep. I will switch on the device at your neck. One sound. Any sound you make. Any at all. Will be detected and a nasty shock will be delivered to your vocal cords. It is modification on ones you use to keep barking dogs quiet. “ ...
Julie and Mark had been together for almost five years, they had met at a fetish convention and even though they, at the time, couldn’t see each other’s faces had hit it off and spent the rest of the weekend together and hadn’t been apart since. Julie was a good sub and enjoyed Mark as her dom. Mark loved Julie and her svelte and toned body and long blonde hair but especially loved her almost uncontrollable need to be bound. Julie had always wanted to be a servant, to be forced to do others bidding and through most of her life had been taken advantage of by people who discovered this trait and used her for their own purposes. She always wore fetish attire, most of the time when it really wasn’t appropriate, her tight corsets and skirts with tall heels had gotten her in trouble at work on several occasions and when she wore her neck, wrist and ankle shackle’s her boss didn’t know what to think. ...
At the sound of the front door being unlocked, Jordan froze. For nearly an hour now, she’d struggled uselessly against the bonds that held her. Hands bound behind her, ankles bound together, she was further immobilized by a length of rope securing her ankles to one leg of the couch. Her mouth, packed full with a large scarf, which was held in place by a second scarf bound around her head, muffled any sound she tried to make. Still, she did try, soft, unintelligible sounds emerging as the front door opened. ...
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. ...
I am Amy, I’m 20 years old with long black hair down to my lower back, I’m medium build with pale white skin, I’m also 7ft 11 inch’s tall in my world I am a giantess. Which brings me to my story, when I was 16 my mother told me that I came from a long bloodline of giantesses and shrinker’s, people who could shrink people to 3 inches tall. That goes back to old Ireland when they were goddess’s to the people. ...
This is a short story about two people with the same desires, but only one will survive to tell the tale. Adeline since her child hood had fantasies about shrinking her boy friends to enable her to tease and taunt them before swallowing them whole. She was unable to forget these feelings and grew up with these thoughts. As a result she conducted experiments with live prey such as gold fish and small birds to satisfy this urge to eat a human male, this helped her to experience the feeling of having something inside her throat whilst still alive and the intense sexual fulfillment as the hapless subject landed in her stomach ready to be consumed by her acidic digestive process. ...
It all started when my wife Marie looked over my shoulder at the computer screen, asking “What’s that you’re looking at?” Startled by her creeping up on me, I didn’t know that she was there until she spoke; it was too late to deny what I was reading on the computer. “It’s just some stories.” I replied, hoping that she would leave me and not delve any further. The site in question was a giantess stories site, I love reading the stories on there and get quite turned on by some of the action in some of the stories, I have several favourites that I daydream or fantasise about. But it’s not something I’d ever shared with anyone let alone my wife. ...
The house was filled with about twenty or so young women. It was a group of sorority pledges that were at the last stage of the rush. Amanda, the group mother, looked down at the women. Each had the same thing on her plate. They had been given strict orders to clear their plate or they would be out of the sorority. If they didn’t have a boyfriend, a guy had been introduced to them the previous night. Each one was paired up and only Amanda knew where the boys were. It was the first real step of a slow recruitment process. ...
“But you can’t just shut us down!” Patricia Lakemont glanced around her and shrugged. “Oh? And why is that?” “Because,” Geoffrey Sutton replied slowly, “Sutton Cord & Cable has been here for nearly a hundred and fifty years now. Our cables have been used on nearly every bridge in the area.” “Bridges,” Patricia pointed out, “that are steadily being replaced by newer models that don’t require cables.” “Still,” Geoffrey argued, “that’s no reason to shut us down. We can retool for other work. Besides, we’re one of the largest employers in this town. Some very good workers will lose their only livelihood if you close this plant.” ...
WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life. If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. ...
story continues from A Slight Miscalculation Marc Reilly closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. It was days like this, he thought, that bothered him the most. One of the companies he held a major interest in, hard hit by the economic slump, was facing serious problems. An emergency meeting of the board had been called, which Marc had to attend. At the meeting, despite his best efforts to come up with an alternative, it had finally been decided that downsizing was the only way to keep the company solvent. Marc sighed again, thinking about the people about to lose their jobs. ...
Normally I scoff at anything that has the word ‘Magic’ attached to it, but the word of friends and others had led me to the door of a dusty little shop in a dark back street of the town I really don’t want to tell you about. And when I left I had in my pocket a small brown bottle with a wooden stopper and a wallet far emptier than it had been when I went in. ...
Normally I scoff at anything that has the word ‘Magic’ attached to it, but the word of friends and others had led me to the door of a dusty little shop in a dark back street of the town I really don’t want to tell you about. And when I left I had in my pocket a small brown bottle with a wooden stopper and a wallet far emptier than it had been when I went in. ...
I took the idea for this story from a comic I found online at the following link: http://lerra22.deviantart.com/gallery/38365393 I grew up in the city but ever since I was a five I would spend the summers in the country with my grandparents. They owned and ran a ranch where they raised horses mainly but lots of other livestock. I loved the country, the time I spent there and my grandparents. Even in high school I would spend my summers there and when I graduated I went to college to study as a veterinarian. I was able to intern and earn extra money because the local veterinarian that worked with my grandparents because he knew me and let me work with him. I graduated and joined the vet I interned for as a partner. Unfortunately my grandparent got to the point they could no longer live on the ranch so they signed it all over to me. They had upgraded everything and had a great staff so they had not really worked on the ranch for years. ...
Ellie’s story continues from Elle & the Old Farmhouse_ Ever since Ellie moved into her grandparent’s farmhouse, her life had shifted into the slow lane. She had jumped at the chance to go there when they asked her to help them out for the summer. She had no other prospects for a summer job, so why not? She thought that anything beats sitting around her parent’s house, with her mom ragging on her about finding a job, and being bored. Now she regretted that decision. This was far worse, but she was committed, and besides, her grandparents needed her help. She figured she could last the summer. ...
For Marie to suggest that she wanted to tie him was unusual, normally, Alan had to ask for it and very rarely got what he wanted. Perhaps his wife of nearly 20 years was finally getting ‘kinky’. Alan worked abroad a great deal, installing computer systems; some major installations could take him abroad for 6 months. He was home now and didn’t have any new jobs on the horizon, not a problem as he was so well paid the house, cars and boat were all paid for, and there was plenty of money in investments and savings, so he had suggested early retirement to Marie. ...
For Marie to suggest that she wanted to tie him was unusual, normally, Alan had to ask for it and very rarely got what he wanted. Perhaps his wife of nearly 20 years was finally getting ‘kinky’. Alan worked abroad a great deal, installing computer systems; some major installations could take him abroad for 6 months. He was home now and didn’t have any new jobs on the horizon, not a problem as he was so well paid the house, cars and boat were all paid for, and there was plenty of money in investments and savings, so he had suggested early retirement to Marie. ...