I have consolidated all of my stories to date on a Yahoo Adult Group. The Group has the stories and loads of free heavy rubber photo finds that I’ve compiled over the years. There are even a couple of photos of me enjoying my favorite material. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/rbrbill_fans/ - Story continues from Ch2 Journeys: Part One Chapter 2 - Journeys Part 2 One week had passed when the Jason got the e-mail. He had worn the rubber clothes until bedtime that last day with Kaylin but had removed them for a thankful shower. He had not worn any rubber since then. He still wondered what the spell was Kaylin and rubber held but soon realized that without Kaylin rubber was nothing. This only reinforced his belief that he didn’t have a rubber fetish but did have very strong feelings for a rubberist, aka Kaylin. ...

continued from chapter seven Chapter 8: Fly in a Web After a leisurely breakfast she descended to the dungeon to find all was well; her slave still asleep, head forward against the strap cage. She smiled to herself, ‘what a slave; able to sleep whatever the bondage’ She was dressed in her surgical outfit again looking every bit the competent surgeon. White rubber boots and gloves to match completed the outfit. Underneath she had inserted a self retaining catheter with drainage bag strapped to her thigh. She had chosen a vibrating dildo with control in her smock pocket. On rising she had given herself an enema; one of her delights in feeling herself internally cleansed, then taken a long shower before fitting an anal rod which had distended her sphincter. She felt in high spirits the controlling sadistic facet of her personality very much to the fore. She moved over to her Mistress chair and sat delighting in the anal penetration as the lubricated rod penetrated her deeper. She switched on the dildo at a low vibration knowing she had a whole session before her. The fact that her slave had been in strict bondage since the termination of the last session was all part of her plan. She had organised a lengthy testing session one which she knew would extend her slave beyond anything he had so far experienced. ...

story continues from part one Part 2: Awakenings “We thought the countess would be coming”. Vanessa said in a voice clearly tinged with nerves. “No Mummy is far too busy”, “But we…. we have a gift for her, to repay the……” “A gift for me, how charming. But firstly which is the older one?” “Sorry?”. Tall, elegant, and dressed in a deep wine red leather blouse, matching skintight pants and high heels, the beautiful and well made up teenager, turned and looked the pair in the eye. She paused looking them up and down with disdain. “Must I repeat myself”, she sighed. ...

NB: English is not my first language so please forgive any mistakes - please enjoy. Last weekend a dive tour goes nearly wrong. It was an unplanned stay in a compactor in an Apartment complex. What I previously not have considered that the complex was very big and the compactor they use have arms to lift dumpsters. Thats what i know today. It was 10 at the evening as i slipped in the nearly empty compactor througt the open ram. I expected that no one would be working at this time of the evening. So i make my dream run and all was ok. ...

Author’s Note: The following story is 100% true. Thursday: I am going to try a full weekend bondage experience in a few days and I’m hoping I can last it out. It’s going to be the longest I have ever been in bondage in one consecutive span of time. Here’s what I’m planning to do… For those that don’t know, I enjoy tight outfits and especially corsets. So the entire weekend, I’m going to be corseted with a tight fitting unitard over top of it and secured with a padlock. I can go long periods of time in a corset but I’ve never gone this long before. The entire weekend is ultimately going to be a plan to keep me in the corset. The key for the unitard is going to be 50 miles away. I drove out there today and stashed it in a low branch of an unmarked tree. ...

The girl sat, naked, beneath the bows of the enormous tree. The thick, amber sap flowed across her face, dripped from her nose and chin, glued her eyes, sealed her lips. Her golden breasts rose and fell slowly as she slept. “They’re gumming up the works - literally. Production at the mill has dropped ten percent. The guys in the field don’t see it. They’re too busy cutting, limbing, and skidding ’em.” ...

Mika Strazza was a 5’6” tall woman with long red hair, blue eyes and a body that turned heads everywhere she went. She worked as a mechanical engineer with NASA and she did machining work & repairs on the side. When she wasn’t working she would go to the gym daily to make sure she kept her body in shape. “I hate my genetics,” she would say when she finished her workouts. Her entire family was overweight and she was one of the fat kids all throughout school. When she could afford a gym membership she started going regularly and now that she was down to 135 pounds she had no intention of ever getting fat again. She was excited because tonight she was going to 10 year high school reunion and she couldn’t wait to see the reactions of everyone when they saw her. ...

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. Part One It began quite innocently but soon developed into much more. Like a drug which longed to flow through her veins, the rush of the ecstasy of her orgasmic pleasures. She longed to be in that place again and again. Addicted to the feeling of helplessness; to the restriction of bondage and of wearing sexy gear. The anticipation of the next fix, the laying out of the playthings on the bed. The desire to turn herself on and also knowing she was turning others on too. ...

Well, we’re the craziest old couple on the block. Last week Techster was reading one of the Mummy stories on grometsplaza and remarked, “Someday I’d like to try this mummy thing. I wonder how they deal with feeding, fecal waste and urine- no one ever mentions that and yet for more than a 12 hour mummification it is inevitable.” So I designed a mummification system and dealt with the reality of feeding, urine and fecal waste as techster was my unwilling volunteer for several days - to be exact 3 days. ...

I’ve had a lot of memorable adventures. I’m an avid crossdresser, so being bound while wearing at least hosiery and leotards is natural for me, affording me the most eroticism and intense sensations. One time, I dressed up wearing black Lycra tights and a black short-sleeved Lycra leotard. Underneath the leotards, I had on a pair of old tights, with the crotch-lining cut out for my head to pass through. This way my arms were covered, and my hands were covered like thumbless mittens, making finger dexterity difficult. To complete the ensemble, I wore black 4 inch heeled shoes. This made walking interesting, especially on a surface I planned to be on. ...

Author’s Note - As with most of my stories this is mostly true. Obviously I have taken some license as I was only the boyfriend in this encounter and had to rely on her telling and my imagination to write it. Enjoy. My idea was simple, I love being bound. I love being bound for long periods and feeling helpless. My boyfriend is very good at providing this but there is always a safe word, there is always that feeling, even though I know I won’t use it, that I can get out whenever I want. ...

The obstacle course My plan was to expose as much naked flesh as possible to the biting flies, mosquitoes, and any other insects for as long as it would take to get my escape completed. So first, the course: I took my hemp rope out to the backyard, to the trees. I tied one end to a small tree, ran it to a larger, second tree, then knotted it around the bottom of the trunk. I walked about 50 or 60 feet to a Box Elder tree, wrapped the rope around the trunk, knotted it, and tied it to another tree off to the side. This will be my track. Once in position, I would not be able to untie the rope, and release myself. I had taken two 6 foot 2x6’s, notched both on the ends with a 2 inch by 3 foot “slot”. I had also rigged a spring release to each of the slots to keep my legs in place, once I passed those springs. This notch will hold my ankles in place once I make it to the tree. I brought those boards out to the Box elder. I nailed them on edge to the trunk, got onto my knees, spreading my thighs, and marked about where my ankles would be. ...

This is a quirky little story that I thought you the readers might enjoy. It starts as a spanking story and develops into a full blown female domination tale, with lots in between. Have a nice day, the culprit should I am certain. Enjoy if you will with my compliments. S. M. Ackerman. The Tree. The garden was large, filled with trees of all sorts but I had only got any interest in only one of them. It was a huge oak tree set within our apple orchard and it must be about three hundred years old, judging by the height and number of branches it had. ...

Before there was Area 51, there was Area 22. There are no aliens there, but no one knows exactly what IS there. Maggie pulled up to the heavy, metal gate. It was clearly locked and radiator piercing tubes projected from it. Not that she planned to ram it. It was festooned with signs: KEEP OUT, NO TRESSPASSING, GOVERNMENT PROPERTY, RESTRICTED AREA, and others. Maggie retrieved her car registration and insurance card from the glove box. She tucked them into her wallet. In the back seat, she propped the cardboard sign in the rear window: tag stolen BJD 176. Her tag hadn’t been stolen. She had seen a green Honda in a parking lot a while back. Same year, make, and model as her car. Same color even. She’d made a note of the tag number. It wasn’t the best ruse. They could always trace the VIN, but it was better than nothing. Maggie popped the trunk, peeled back the carpet, lifted the cover to the spare tire well. A minute with a screwdriver and her license plate joined her wallet in the hole. She grabbed her camera, replaced the batteries, checked it, and dropped the lid. ...

Before there was Area 51, there was Area 22. There are no aliens there, but no one knows exactly what IS there. Maggie pulled up to the heavy, metal gate. It was clearly locked and radiator piercing tubes projected from it. Not that she planned to ram it. It was festooned with signs: KEEP OUT, NO TRESSPASSING, GOVERNMENT PROPERTY, RESTRICTED AREA, and others. Maggie retrieved her car registration and insurance card from the glove box. She tucked them into her wallet. In the back seat, she propped the cardboard sign in the rear window: tag stolen BJD 176. Her tag hadn’t been stolen. She had seen a green Honda in a parking lot a while back. Same year, make, and model as her car. Same color even. She’d made a note of the tag number. It wasn’t the best ruse. They could always trace the VIN, but it was better than nothing. Maggie popped the trunk, peeled back the carpet, lifted the cover to the spare tire well. A minute with a screwdriver and her license plate joined her wallet in the hole. She grabbed her camera, replaced the batteries, checked it, and dropped the lid. ...

The room was small and sparsely furnished, containing only a cot and a sturdy chair. Near the door lay a small heap of cloth. Light from a single overhead fixture shone on the sole occupant, a nude Asian woman who lay silently on the cot. The woman’s eyes were wide with fear, yet her body lay limp, motionless. Soft moans occasionally slipped from slightly parted lips. Silently, the door opened. In stepped a stooped, aged figure. “Hello, Mary,” the figure said in a rasping voice. “I’m Jason Murdoch. Get used to the name, my dear. You’ll have years to familiarize yourself with the rest.” ...

Brandon James had it made. Not only was he a successful businessman. Not only was he rich and powerful. Not only did he have men of wealth and influence from all over the world seeking his services, while beautiful women competed just to be seen with him. Not only did he have all these things. He also had something that, as far as he knew, nobody else had, something that would make sure he kept all those other things. In short, Brandon James had his very own genie. ...

(story continues from Her Contract Entails 3) Part Four Henry chanced a look into his mirror, supposedly checking out the flow of traffic, but in reality flagellating himself with another stolen glance at the occupants of the back seat. Aubrey Lister sat back on the leather like a king reclining on his throne, his face a picture of self-assured crapulence as he draped one arm over the shoulder of his favourite pet, the other lost beneath the fabric of her tight denim skirt. ...

As part of the upcoming Slave Storage program, Mistress JessiBell has been using me as a test subject to get a more precise idea of what is and is not possible in long term bondage scenes. I consider myself privileged to be part of these experiments. Many times I forget large portions of what happened. I often have to refer to the recordings of the sessions to remember the sequence of events. This last series of tests, which I describe below, included some of the most intense experiences I have ever encountered. Bear in mind that we have been working up to this level for the last eight months. I generally need at least a day to recover afterward. Your mileage may vary. ...

Sarah looked first one way up the city street and then the other. Nobody was paying any attention to her as she stood with her back to the wall and she saw nobody who would recognise her, which was hardly surprising as she knew nobody in this part of the country. She had only to cross the street and slip into the shop, it was that simple. But it wasn’t simple at all: she was so nervous. She passed the shop every day and each time she wondered what it was like inside. Today she had decided to find out. Taking a breath she tried to look casual and walked across the road, keeping her eyes straight ahead she quickly entered the door with the sigh above reading ‘What’s your fetish.` ...