Melanie Richards was a serious student… of bondage stories. Spending hours evey month reading on-line tales of damsels-in-distress, girls getting themselves into trouble and she’d always wished for something to actually happen to her, rather than just reading made-up tales. A talented artist Melanie had started producing sketches from the stories she’d read and her boyfriend William, who worked as a self-employed craftsman treasured each one. Getting rock hard seeing images of women tied up and helpless. Though he and Mel did this for real he never felt brave enough to really make her bondage inescapable, not wanting her to get hurt or marked from cords and ropes. So when Melanie showed him a story of Melissa on Gromets site, being trapped inside her statue it was something that he thought could be made possible. Getting hold of wood wasn’t a problem. His father had been pleading with him to take down an old oak tree from the garden for at least a year now. The fact it was so huge had been the problem, mainly because of the cost. No way could an amateur and a few mates have attempted the task. The trunk must have been at least three feet in diameter and going up thirty feet before it started to split into different branches, the tree itself reached over a hundred feet high and was an impressive sight. A smallish win on the lottery had finally enabled Bill, as he preferred to be called to get it brought down in stages. But the crucial thing was that main trunk. Now cut into seven feet lengths and Melanie, having seen them one afternoon had quietly asked if Bill could make a statue, ‘like the one in Melissa’s story’ out of one. Young Mr Kane had grinned and agreed, getting Trevor, his mate to transport two of the lengths to the workshop attached to their home. He actually said to his buddies they’d probably end up as firewood for dad’s woodburner but for the moment he’d do his best and duly started work. Firstly slicing each from top to bottom then gradually hollowing the halves out. This meant Melanie had to be ‘acurately’ measured and an enjoyable day was spent as he wrote things down like ‘nipple to…’ ‘neck diameter’ and suchlike. She’d done a couple of sketches to show what was required and Bill used a lot of his free time out there doing her bidding. He actually made two, one exact like Melissa’s with the arms by the side, but the second had been his idea, with the limbs crossed behind the back. Each had been completed from inside and Melanie had spent a few minutes closed up in each, though sadly there hadn’t been any dildo or gag to finish the effect off. She didn’t complain as he’d worked so hard on these for her benefit, all he’d had to do now was carve the actual figure from the outside. While waiting for him to do the carving Melanie set up a page on Wiki, devoted to ‘The Goddess Bondeeja’ A totally fake site with sketches she’d done of the statues Bill was making and tales of who ‘Bondeeja’ was. It was a bit of micky-taking of Egyptian heritage and history. The country relied on it for tourism but she thought it unlikely anybody would take her page seriously. As Wiki’s reputation for accuracy was the butt of much humour the pair had thought little about it. They were however quite surprised at how many visits their page had. Melanie hadn’t wanted any comment left so didn’t include a ‘contact us’ link at the bottom. Weeks’ later Melanie smiled as Bill led her into his workroom after their dinner, having told the girl that her figure had been finished. The lassie delighted to see the newly polished statue in the corner as he’d promised. It looked like the second one she’d tested. Arms behind the back, rather than his first effort so she knew what was coming next. “Wow, it looks amazing” she gushed, pleased that somehow he’d made her statue hips a little narrower than they actually were. “Ready then?” he asked and she undressed, stepping out of her slinky red number, shivering in the frigid air conditioning in here, then shedding her underwear too. Coming over to see her ‘home’ for the next hour or so. After a long kiss she turned away and allowed Bill to help her into the bodysuit. This made of industrial thickness latex and despite the amount of talc used it still took a long time to get Melanie all zipped up. Her hands were eased into gloves but she was surprised when he balled her fingers up then secured them with fasteners she didn’t know about. “Cannot have you knocking to get out,” he grinned and she smiled, waving a fist in front of his face. It was pretty warm inside the suit and the lass would be glad once inside the statue. It’d been cool while testing it outside and naked, but here, in the chilled room she should be the same with the suit and bandages on. These took an age for Bill to apply and through it Melanie got more excited. At one point he had to dry her off with a towel as she’d dripped on the floor! “Should have stuck a certain something in there to block you up,” he’d chuckled, dabbing away. His sensitive touch almost made things worse. But finally she was a glorious white-wrapped mummy, only the center part of her face was visible and she asked to see herself in the mirror before he did her eyes. Bill didn’t ask why she wanted both her nose and mouth left free. Normally he’d insist she be gagged but didn’t want to spoil this today, though he had read the story to see what had got her going, so made a couple of extras to surprise her. Bill came up with the last of the bandages, kissing Melanie before placing two pads over her slightly scared eyes, blocking her ears with plugs then wrapping her head under several layers like the rest of her body. She could barely move her jaw to accept a drink and Miss Richards hoped she’d be fine. Taking Melanie’s arms he guided her back, easing her into the statue, watching as she positioned both arms behind her with some difficulty into the slots. Sighing as her shoulders rubbed the top then slid underneath and she was in. Mel didn’t say how tight it actually was with the thickness of the suit and four layers of wrapping over the top. She thought it’d be amazing if Bill could get the front bit shut! “Yes, that’s great, you can love” she said to the nose tapped question, ‘was she ok for him to close it up’, smiling happily as they had another session with tongues. Another tap on her breasts and moments later a now shuddering Melanie felt the air flow change and the smell of polished wood getting stronger as the front came round. She gasped as the pressure suddenly arrived, forcing her breasts back into her body, the front bit for her face now gripping tight, even the wooden bits that held her legs apart were the same. In the story the gag would appear at any moment… so she squealed loudly when one slowly drove itself in over her eager tongue. ‘Next’s gonna be a…’ Melanie grunted as a huge dildo arrived, sliding gently into her thankfully wet zone and filling the lass totally. They both stopped at the same time and Mel was thrilled that he had added the extras, but slightly stunned at how tight this was. The thickness of the latex suit and bindings meant she was actually larger now than when testing it earlier. ‘Like I’ve put on weight’ she moaned into the gag. Two thumps on the sides made her jump and Melanie realised he’d finally got the latches across as the pressure increased slightly again. Not knowing how much difficulty it’d been for Bill to do it. He’d pushed those two protusions into the statue at face and lower areas and it made him grin. “No wonder she squealed! The minx.” Another bang, right on the carved nose was the signal that she was completed and he wheeled the statue into the corner, set the angled lighting on it and snapped a few photos for the collection. No way would any of their friends believe that the figure was actually occupied by a stunning brunette, helplessly mummified, wearing a thick latex suit below that and plugged in all bar one of her holes. Melanie was definitely a virgin at the rear and he’d respected her wish to remain so. Having shot the photos for the Wiki page he went off for a drink then returned, sitting in the armchair and watching his girl. Trying to see and hear if she was close to orgasm. She was actually unconscious, having an earth-moving series before he’d come back from the kitchen having cleaned and done the washing-up. Bill’s eyes drooped and he set his alarm for another half-hour, she wouldn’t mind two hours rather than what had been agreed! Dimming the lights and he was dozing very shortly. Coming to with the buzzing of the clock Bill grumbled at the headache thundering through his brain. He’d only had two drinks and surely it shouldn’t be that bad. It was eight PM and would take at least an hour to strip Melanie’s bindings off so he’d best get started. Arriving at the statue he reached for the side catches… and stopped. They were not there! Bill Kane frowned, then checked the other side in case he’d… but nothing there either. Just two wood blocks shaped exactly like the catches, but wrapping his fingers round each one soon proved fruitless. A close look and he could see the carve marks deep into the wood and knew that somehow there was a serious problem here. Getting a torch from the drawer he shone the beam up the nostrils, expecting to see Melanie’s nose… but it appeared to be empty. A shaking boyfriend grabbed a blunt screwdriver and inserted it. Slowly sliding it well beyond the normal length of the human nasal passages, then wiggled it about. “Oh my goodness!” he said, now slowly comprehending the impossible… Melanie had vanished. ...

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/ Chapter 1: Searching Part 1 Kaylin slowly turned the pages of the book. She looked lovingly at each card on the pages. She had sections devoted to the characters from Power Rangers. Each of the cards depicted a pose of the character in the tight spandex suits that were the mark of their superhero status. Each card was behind a protected sheet of plastic and Kaylin even enjoyed lightly touching the protective film. Under the album of trading cards were numerous action figures, still in the original packaging. These were not as exciting as the cards since the shiny plastic was just that. The clothes were part of the figure and not covering some figurine beneath. Kaylin imagined a doll that she could dress in the tight stretchy costume and sighed. ...

I stepped off the bus into the cool, damp evening air. Protected from the elements by one of the only items in my collection I feel comfortable to wear outside, a full length shiny black rubber mackintosh. Finally, another boring week of work over and a quiet weekend of just me and my secret passion awaits. I love rubber and have spent quite some time amassing a reasonablely sized wardrobe of the slick, shiny material. Every weekend, I immerse myself in latex, it’s my way of unwinding from the weeks buildup of stress. ...

continued from chapter two Chapter 3: Mistress’s Recycling Scheme Having been fed the liquid diet and taken his daily enema he was taken to the dungeon. There his Mistress in an obsidian black catsuit with crimson corset both polished to perfection awaited him. Her eyes and glossed lips accentuated by the latex helmet she was wearing. “Slave place yourself at the St Andrews cross.” Now securely bondaged with no movement possible he waited for her to speak. She played with his nipples until they tented his suit then applied heavy clamps before sitting directly in front of him the cat-of-nine tales across her lap. ...

continued from part 7 Part 8 Back home Walter led RS into the punishment room. He ordered her not to speak a single word and then helped her to undress completely, only the various rubber tubes which controlled her orifices staying in place. He disconnected her rubber urine bag, which was filled by two thirds now with her yellowish piss, from the tube and hung it up carefully to a medical infusion stand which could be rolled around in the room. He first thought of putting her through a self urinal again but then came up with the idea, that someone else would may be the perfect candidate for a humiliating procedure and a severe slave test. He looked at RS’s stomach which was still filled with an enormous amount of enema liquid. All of a sudden he had a certain vision for some new humiliating experiences for RS and so he allowed her to the bowl and opened the clamp, which sealed off the enema tube which was connected to the inflatable rubber anal plug. RS sighed when allowed to release herself. To her, it was again a very strange and humiliating feeling to empty her bowels through a thick rubber tube. As soon as she nodded with her head to let her Master know that she had finished, Walter clamped the tube again and then pumped up the inflatable rubber plug in her anus as hard as she could barely stand. After this she was ordered back in the middle of the punishment room again and Walter told her to kneel down and put her hands behind her back. ...

The herd was in full flight. The bunched mass of ponygirls flowed like water over the undulations of the ground. Bronzed bodies flashing in the sun as they ran and leaped over fallen logs and rocks in their path. Arms pumped as they reached full speed, turning as one at the crest of the hill, before at a breakneck pace, they came as one down the slope and onto the flats. It was almost impossible to see individuals as they approached the river’s bank, but this group hardly slowed as they took to the shallow water of the ford. Great gouts of water spewed up as their hooves thrashed into the river. Great waves of spray hid the running girls as they forged through and out this side. ...

The Stallion It was dark when I woke up and opened my eyes for that first time, not just dark but pitch black, utter darkness. It was also silent, so silent that I could hear myself breathing in long deep breaths through my nose, for there was something in my mouth, filling if with an awful taste of rubber. I could not move any part of my body; I was cocooned in some form of material, which prohibited me even moving a finger. I only knew that I was upright, in some dark container, with something in my mouth. ...

The following is a true story. (You know who you are) A few years ago I worked for an Asset Management company looking after the assets of clients mainly an administrative position and although the work was boring and uneventful I was the only male in the department. So I got to spend the day with some very attractive ladies who all took turns to flirt with me. I have always loved the secretary look so I was in heaven in the department. My other fantasy was “damsel in distress” bondage and it was a side of me I always kept to myself although I had pictured all of them at some stage in my mind bound and gagged. ...

Part 1 It wasn’t a case of getting above herself, but Fiona Mackie believed she was becoming a very good bondage model. She simply loved it and having sent a few portfolios of her tied across her bed by a boyfriend she’d once dated, out on the internet, soon found that there were some seriously good photographers. Within a year she was able to pick and choose her work from a select group of guys and one gal. ...

(story continues from Kitten’s Story Part 10: Punished) Part 11: Pet Girl You manage an embarrassed smile as you curl up in the basket and he covers you with the fleece blanket gently stroking your hair for a moment before fastening a long leash to your collar, you watch as he runs the leash over to one of the old wooden pillars forming the stable you lie in, he uses a small padlock to secure the leash and smiles at you, even if you wanted to go somewhere he had now ensured you would be staying within a couple of meters of your makeshift kennel. Exhausted after what he had put you through after a day’s work you manage to drift off to sleep curled up under in your basket in the cool night air. ...

Prologue: a customer calls. I dialled the number she had left, a mobile one of course. The first call is never from the home phone. A friendly voice answered, which got a bit nervous once I had said who I was calling for. This was always the case: it takes a bit of courage to call upon our services the first time, and when we call to make an actual appointment, one is suddenly confronted with the consequences of a choice. This lady had more of an excited nervousness though, she was looking forward to the adventure of discovering what we could do. She’d studied the website a bit and could not decide what she wanted (“ah, the agony of choice”). ...

For My Naughty, Little Slave You’re wearing what I asked as you walk through the arrivals gate. Pulling your luggage behind you, you look through the crowd to find me. I’m there, at the back standing tall over the Indians and Pakistanis with a black hat on, white shirt and jeans. You’re wearing a simple, flowing sundress on top but it’s underneath that I was very specific about. Underneath you’re wearing a sexy, strapless bra, a suspender belt without stockings and a matching pair of sexy knickers. ...

(story continues from True Dreams Part 4: Going once, going twice…?) Part 5: The Negotiation My supposedly new “master” Master Greg released me from my restraints and quickly dressed me with a skirt and tank top and put the latex hood back on my head and guided me out of the room and we went up a flight of stairs and then walked outside and then I was placed back into a vehicle. ...

I was in a self-bondage chat room some time ago, and the topic came up, of using clothespin zippers in a scene. I couldn’t hang around very long, and didn’t get too many suggestions but it started me thinking, and I think I have found one way. I was going to have the entire day to myself one Saturday, so I planned on attempting it then. On Friday, I bought 6 brand new, 18" bungee cords, 2 -3" steel rings, and 3 pair of leather boot laces. I have plenty of clothespins, so no need to buy any more. ...

BOUND: TIED, TICKLED, AND TORMENTED INTO SPASMS AND ‘GASMS I. Oh God, oh Fuck A ticklish clit can be a bitch. A super ticklish clit can be an agony, but of the very best kind. I learned this from my “sister” in a quite unexpected way. Karen was not my sister in any true meaning of the term, but had been the daughter of my parents’ very close friends. She was three years older than me and had entered my life five years earlier as a stay-over guest. Our parents were members of the local political scene and spent many evenings and weekends away from home. Because our house was in a very remote area, almost like an outpost in a forest that was adjacent to a huge state park, my folks thought it would be a good idea for me to have company when they were away. I don’t know what they thought when they chose to have an incredibly sexy girl stay alone with me during the most raging stages of my raging hormone period, but it was a decision that put many a smile on my face. They called her my “sitter” as a shorthand term, and they never learned just how appropriate that title would be; Karen would spend a lot of time over the years sitting on me! ...

Skye and I had been friends with Tim and Rita for many years. We used to live beside each other in town. We bought some land together, divided it up, and we each built a home on it. Our houses were about 75 yards apart, and there was not another house closer than a mile. It was so nice living out here, so peaceful. We spend many evenings together with Tim and Rita… in one of our homes watching a movie, or simply sitting out on our porch. We had many meals together, and we could not ever ask for better friends. Did I mention that Rita was hot?… she was soooo fine. I had fantasized about her many times. I always loved to hug her whenever I could, just to have her marvelous breasts against me. ...

Why do I do this to myself? It is not the warmest night, I would be quite happy at home on the sofa with a bottle of wine and a movie so why am I here putting myself through these torments? I’ll tell you why, as much as I try to fight it, as much as I would rather be snug and warm, I love the idea of what I am about to put myself through. The risk, the tension and the adventure. They all do things to me that I wouldn’t change for the world. ...

(story continues from Hedonia) Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, where we can live and waste any number of lives. Part 2 13. The forbidden side Brian was excited. Finally he passed through the doors that, just 20 minutes ago, he promised his girlfriend not to pass. He had to, because actually, she didn’t allow it. She was being massaged for hours, and he was supposed to enjoy looking at shops and the holographic decorations. Sure they were impressive, but it was simply mean of her to forbid going to the erotic fair. He was a grown up after all, and also she had to learn to trust him. ...

Stella Murdoch knew it was going to be one of “those” weekends when she woke on Saturday morning to the realization that her breasts were gone. Now, a discovery like this would normally be the cause of at least a little bit of hysteria, but the party the night before had been a major blast, and Stella was still more than a bit hazy in the thinking department. So, instead of jumping up and screaming, as she might normally have done, Stella simply laid in bed, her hands exploring the flat area that had, just the night before, housed a pair of firm, medium sized breasts. Absently, she wondered how one might go about reporting such a loss: ...

I’m just coming out of my bedroom when I nearly collide with Mila. “Hey, cousin.” “Hi.” She’s dressed for work, or more accurately mostly undressed for work with a short, black silk robe over nothing. She heads into the bathroom. Mila isn’t my cousin, neither is Kim - I’m pretty sure of that - just like “Auntie” isn’t my aunt. The girls are twins even though their papers have them at different ages. All the girls lie about their age depending on circumstances. The sixteen year olds pass themselves off as twelve or, if the authorities come snooping, then they’re twenty. When they came here they were officially sixteen and seventeen, sixteen being the minimum age to work in a brothel. Although that’s being changed to eighteen, and they’re both legally eighteen, so there you go. I have no idea how old they are, but I’m thinking twenties passing themselves off as teenagers. Mom’s thirty-six, but you’d never know it. ...