Cindy and Mark made quite a couple. They both knew their strengths, and they used them to full advantage. Cindy was a former college cheerleader. She was extraordinarily beautiful and graceful, and she knew that could have had any man she wanted. Mark was a wealthy, intelligent and successful accountant, and he knew that he could have any woman he wanted. After six months of dating, Mark was convinced that Cindy was the woman for him, and he asked her to marry him. Cindy had grown to love Mark, and she immediately accepted. A few weeks into their engagement, Mark resolved himself to tell Cindy about his predilection for bondage and domination, and he planned a special evening for them. After an elegant dinner and an evening at the opera, Mark’s limousine driver took them back to Mark’s house in the hills. ...

(story continues from William & Mary 2) Part 3 “How did this happen?” “I don’t know, Sir. All I can say for sure right now is that the locks weren’t opened with a key. From the interior scraping, I’d say they were picked.” “But if the locks were picked, why pry one of the plates loose?” “It wasn’t pried, Sir. From the minute deformations in the chain, ring, and lock, I’d say it was pulled loose. How, I have no idea. That would have taken a lot of strength.” ...

Lit by the rays of the morning sun, the city’s flags and banners waved their defiance for the invading army assembled outside the gate. As if in response, the army’s own flags and pennants waved every bit as defiantly. The approaching observer smiled at the martial sight. As he approached, however, he began to realize that something wasn’t quite right. Other than the waving of flags, all was unusually still for the beginning of a battle. Frowning, he picked up his pace slightly. ...

They slowly crept threw the woods. Rumor had it there was an old man still lived in the ranch on the far side of the valley. He was said to be magical and had gifts hidden on his ranch. Cindy didn’t believe in any of this bullshit. She was here so her boyfriend would stop talking about it. “Damn it!” Will huffed. “This trail is no good either.” “Can we just leave now? There’s a reason why it’s called a rumor you know?” Cindy grew more irritated. “How long are you going to keep this up its getting dark?” ...

Although we are not particularly close, I’ve known Simon for about ten years, I’d guess. We both move in the same BDSM circles, sharing an interest in bondage (keeping handsome men in tight, gruelling and often long-lasting bondage, arses up in the air for a good seeing-to) rather than the whips, paddles and other bits the SM crowd prefer. To my surprise, he invited me back to his place tonight to look at his latest project. And so here I am in his bedroom, looking at a tomb stone placed where the headboard of the bed should be. And it is the weirdest grave stone I have ever seen. ...

Jane had always known that her feet were the most important part of her sexuality. In her early life, she’d discovered the thrill of having someone else sensually massage her feet, and it awoke feelings in her that she’d hitherto only had in her late night bedroom self-exploration. A college lover skilled in the same massage, and with a passion for sucking and nibbling on her toes, had shown her that she could climax without the need for anything as mundane as a cock inside her. Feeling a tongue licking over and between her carefully painted toenails could bring her to heaven, but she knew it was the biting and nipping that sent her over the edge. That lover moved on, but even without him Jane’s obsession with sensations through her feet continued and escalated. Other lovers came and went, never quite scratching that itch Jane had come to know intimately, so instead she learned to satisfy it herself. ...

This is my story of self bondage. More specifically my story of cock and ball self bondage. It started over 60 years ago. In the beginning it was all so new and exciting. Today 60 plus years later it is not new but it is still exciting. 1: The Formative Years When I was about five or six years old we lived in a house that had a lot of trees in the backyard. As a boy I spent many hours climbing in the trees and pretending all sorts of imaginary games. I remember one day trying to climb up one of the smaller trees. I had reached up and grabbed a hold of one of the branches and wrap my legs around the trunk of the tree and started to pull myself up. I remember as I was pulling I started to get this strange feeling in between my legs. I can remember how good it felt as I pulled myself up slid back down the tree. The more I did it the better it felt and I kept doing it until something happened and I thought I had peed my pants. I can remember the feeling of being paralyzed and just hanging there with my legs wrapped around the tree unable to move. After a couple of minutes I was able to climb down the tree and when I checked I had this gooie white stuff all over me and my pants. ...

“Goodnight,” Margaret said as she pushed open the office door with her shoulder, only to be ignored by the group of 20-somethings she worked with who were already discussing their Friday night plans together where they’d probably be wearing even shorter skirts than they did to work, drink far too much and wake up in some random guys bed the next morning. ‘You’re not like me,’ she thought as the door closed behind her. ...

continues from part 4 Part 5: Fierce Competition Roger surveyed the hotel lobby from the mezzanine above. He knew what he was looking for, but needed to be sure that he didn’t appear to actually be looking. If his information was right, Amy and one of her partners in crime would be making their way across the lobby towards the West entrance at any moment now. He checked his watch, wondering if he had the timeline wrong in his head. As he did so, he allowed himself a moment to replay the events of the past week. ...

Jenny was in Science class, with her 4 friends Kelly Christy Sally and Emma. As they spoke they noticed a strange new girl enter the science class in front of them. She sat down quietly next to Jenny, as the only empty chair left in class. She wore a dark black scarf tied over her hair, black silk shirt and long black skirt. The others laughed and whispered, but Jenny didn’t. She had been the new girl in town a year before, and knew how hurtful those comments were. She turned to the new girl and introduced herself. ...

Our story begins on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Sarah was doing a few things around her small apartment that she shared with her boyfriend, Jim. Nothing really important, just getting some odd jobs accomplished, while Jim meanwhile was down the street at the bar watching the game with his buddies. While Sarah was futzing around the apartment she decided that she was going to try to break her boyfriend’s computer password while he wasn’t home. It was a game that had been going on for as long as they were dating. Both of them had their own laptops and neither knew the others password, so whenever they had time and the other wasn’t around they tried to figure out the password that would unlock all of the secrets that they wanted to know. ...

Chapter 1 – A Decision Made “I don’t see that we have any other option.” “No, me neither. She’s just out of control. Look, ever since her dad, well my dad died, she’s gone off the rails. A street kid, can you believe it, and she’s not even a kid she’s 19 and she’s wasted a year of her life already. And the vice cops now say she’s on heroin, god, what a mess. This is the only way we can get her back, Al.” ...

continued from part two Part 3: An Education I was awoken by a shrill alarm, which turned off after a few seconds. I lay there in bed, the memories of the last day slowly drifting into my mind, maybe it had all been a vivid dream. I rolled over in the bed, feeling the material rustling and a squeak as my body shifted against the bedclothes. My eyes sprung open, as information surged into my senses. I was still in my rubber uniform, under a latex sheet in the latex embellished bedroom that had been led to last night. I could feel my clit growing between my rubber sheathed thighs as the rubber and latex surrounding me buried it’s way into my consciousness. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, almost forgetting the skyscraper high heels that I had on. I stood, still a little unsteady, but growing accustomed to them. ...

Being an enterprising businesswoman I looked at the popular trend of human milk producing farms, and their acceptance with the well healed in society that didn’t want to produce their own. Some farms were designed right from the start for human cows, and their automated processes provided plausible deniability for any farmer caught “accidentally” enslaving a free woman against her will. Several key parts of the automated conversion from free woman to milker left the latter with little in common with their free relatives, and it was easy for the courts to draw up legal distinctions between the two. ...

Being an enterprising businesswoman I looked at the popular trend of human milk producing farms, and their acceptance with the well healed in society that didn’t want to produce their own. Some farms were designed right from the start for human cows, and their automated processes provided plausible deniability for any farmer caught “accidentally” enslaving a free woman against her will. Several key parts of the automated conversion from free woman to milker left the latter with little in common with their free relatives, and it was easy for the courts to draw up legal distinctions between the two. ...

“What have we got, Roscoe?” “Mostly nice. Five million, six hun-” “Cut to the chase, elf!” “Yes, Sir, Santa, er, Sir. We’ve got six in Brazil.” “Really?” “Yep.” “How convenient.” “Yes, Sir. Two prostitutes, a secretary, a dental hygienist, and two divorcees.” “Okay, nobody will miss the whores or the divorced girls. Oh, wait, kids?” “No, Santa.” “Good. What about the other two?” “Secretary is a temp. No one will miss her. As for the dentist, well, let’s just say he’s not a real dentist. People get their teeth cleaned, but it’s just a cover. They’re there for other, er, medicinal reasons. If you catch my drift.” ...

She woke slowly, her mind climbing with grudging effort toward consciousness. As awareness grew, she slowly became aware of the fact that, for some strange reason, she couldn’t move. Sluggishly, then with increasing effort, she struggled, but it soon became evident that movement of any kind was impossible. It was as if she lay immersed in something soft, smooth, something that touched every inch of her body, gently but firmly refusing to allow even the slightest movement. Not even her mouth could move, not even her lips, she discovered, allowing nothing but muffled hums to emerge, no matter how loudly she tried to scream. ...

“Welcome aboard, Miss….?” The well shaped woman in the metallic silver jumpsuit smiled as she strode up the ramp. “Stella will do,” she said. “As you wish. If you will follow me, the captain has instructed me to show you how we process our merchandise. This way, please.” Striding along the passageway, the woman named Stella watched as her guide cast quick glances over his shoulder. “Something about this making you uncomfortable?” ...

(a True Story) There is no way of getting around it, our sex life had gotten a little stale. “Time for a sex-slave evening” I told my wife! She blushed a bit and sighed; she tolerates these nights more than she embraces them. Which makes it even better for me. And, of course, some of our neighbors. On this particular Friday night, I had her dress in a short black skirt, high heels, and a lacy blouse with a built-in bra which held her perky breasts high and tight. Her black thong underwear were tight since they helped hold a special guest inside my wife’s glory hole - a remote-controlled silver bullet vibrator. Controlled, of course, by me. ...

Janice’s desk phone rang. By the pattern of the warbling tone she could tell it was an outside line. “Evening Herald, Janice Long speaking.” “Miss Long, my name is Carol Winston. I’m Samuel Bidwell’s secretary. Mr. Bidwell is very unhappy about your story in today’s paper. And he wants to remind you that this is 1983, not 1883. The days when a newspaper could libel people with impunity are long past.” ...