Evan pulled out another fragment of newspaper from the glue tray and slapped it on the frame. He was almost naked and already covered in glue-splatters, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Paper-mache was inherintly a messy task, so why not enjoy that? Besides, the glue was easier to remove from skin than from clothes. The sculpture was slowly taking shape. With each piece added, the wire and cardbord frame disappeared and Evan could see his latest vision becoming real. It was a heady feeling. His body was also responding in another way, but he couldn’t address that now. Amongst other things, once the glueing was started, it really had to be finished. ...

Written with the help and advice of Margaret B The Club was, as always was packed at the weekend and Mistress Kim surveyed her group of friends, and their slaves. Mistress had been there at the start when the club was opened, many years ago. She had seen most things to do with BDSM and quite a few that had nothing to do with it! She was married to a drunk who used her as a punch bag, until he drove (drunk) into another car with four university coed’s inside. All five were killed in the accident. Leaving Kim with no job and a house to pay for! She had worked from that moment on, for everything she had. Nearly fifteen years later, at the ripe old age of 47 she had a good job a home and was recognized as a domme of some standing. Kim had moved on from the days she played the little housewife/punch bag to a top which felt comfortable with men but especially women. ...

It was a typical Saturday afternoon; I had just got back from playing football and went in the shower. My housemate started banging on the door, “Hurry up will you, I need to get ready” I got dried and changed and let him have the bathroom. About 45 minutes later he came in the living room in his dressing gown and sat down, “I"ll have 10 min and get ready”. ...

I had this wonderful idea. I was moving home out of this apartment tomorrow and had a lot of tea chests around. The only problem was that for a few weeks I had to put them into storage while my new house was finished. (The people who had bought this place wanted to move in straight away). I had been packing for weeks and only had my furniture such as my bed, sofa and one chair and dining table left. The rest had been packed away. ...

It was probably morning, but the storm was blocking any sunlight from Laura’s bedroom window. She had only been in Newton for a week and survived three incredibly violent thunderstorms. A tornado touched down five miles East of here on Tuesday and a few square miles of wheat had been flattened by hail stones the size of golf balls. They told her Kansas had intense weather, but she wasn’t prepared for this. ...

This a work of erotic fiction, containing ideas and scenes which would probably be better kept away from the young, immature, or easily impressionable. In other words, ADULTS ONLY! No resemblance to anyone, living, dead, or fictional is intended. All rights reserved, no reproduction in any medium for profit is allowed without prior permission. Adam was a hopeless case. Brilliant of mind, fit of form, and wildly, madly in love. The last being the real problem. The object of his affections was his lab assistant, Eva. ...

She was beautiful, the kind of girl mama wouldn’t let you bring home, she was bad but I like that, I liked the way she made me feel the way she would touch me, the way her skin felt against mine. She looked at me softly, I looked back and whispered to her, “Will you hold it?” Without a word she reached her hand slowly down stroking my belly until she got to it, I could feel her warm fingers slowly closing around it, soft but firm as she gently stroked and petted, I could feel the warm soft skin of her other hand gently cup my balls. ...

While this story is new to the Plaza it is a revision of a story that started being serialised in 2005. It has been updated by the original author to better fit with the continuity of the Doll Factory and Little Shop of Rubber stories. The name has also been changed to reduce possible confusion with a certain TV series, with which it has nothing in common. Prologue It was the summer of 2001 in Germany. ...

continued from part 1Chapter 2: Be Careful What You Wish For In the morning I headed down to reception, my head still full of memories from the night before. I could think of nothing else but sex and tight, shiny rubber. Reality was intent on rearranging my priorities. Standing in front of the receptionist’s desk, I felt nervous and somehow inadequate. Once again, she fixed me with that smile. All I could think was that she knew I was staring at her breasts. As always, she had the lights off above her, with only the tiny desk lamp illuminating her face. I could hardly see her breasts in the dim light, but I could see enough. My imagination did the rest, perhaps too well. ...

Thought & Time. I reached out to press the green button and the door opens, allowing me to enter into my paradise chosen. Naked now, I wait! My legs feel the tight grip of liquid latex slowly covering them. It reaches my butt and rolls around the flesh of my bottom, at the same time I feel it flow between my thighs covering my freshly shaved slit. My clit stands out on its own now, the latex flows around and then encompasses it, now I have a female version of a cock all smothered with a condom. ...

continued from part 3 Part Three Chapter 5: A Journey down South Sixteen panes of glass belonging to an old hothouse on the grounds lay shattered on the grass. A huge branch from a nearby tree had fallen down in the night. The rainstorm had finished what the rot had started. Niamh did her best to rake the remains of the panes into a neat pile, but the soft soil was peppered with nasty-looking shards that literally dug themselves into the ground. Her choice of footwear didn’t exactly make thing easier either. She had borrowed a pair of proper wellingtons from Alex, which seemed to be a good idea until Niamh realised that all she would need now to cross the pond would be a pair of oars. ...

continued from part 7 Part 8: Mummy-dearest! He laid there completely unable to move on the cushioned massage table tape-gagged, Darlex-hooded, neck-braced, solidly mummified in tight plastic wrap and duct-tape, with layers of strong, stretchy clear plastic wrap tightly securing him to the table from collared neck to taped, pointed feet. Many long strips of wide electrical tape secure his head down immovably. The air-conditioner is running upstairs, but he is sweating in his super-tight cocooned encasement. Hours have elapsed since his wife-mistress left him to go to the salon to do massages. He feels hot and a bit anxious and nervous. “What-if” scenarios have crept into his head. He knows it is a crazy, dangerous game they are playing, making it all the more exciting and nerve-racking. ...

Part 1: Basic Training The Saturday EMT class started as a regular session. The instructor, Carol and her assistant Wendy, had gathered all the items for the practical training that was to take place for the next several hours. The session would be primarily to practice the various types of splinting and spinal immobilization. Pretty routine stuff, splints, backboards and some role gauze would be the primary tools of the trade. I was selected the victim, excuse me, patient, to practice the Hare Traction Splint. This medieval looking device is used to maintain traction on a serious leg fracture of the femur. Generally, used only a few times a year, refresher training on this device is crucial to proper use. After measuring the length of the splint to match the leg, the metal frame splint is pushed firmly under the buttocks with a “pubic strap” fitting securely around the leg. The term “pubic strap” should give a hint of the location of this uncomfortable webbing. The narrow strap rises to the crotch area and across the top of the leg to secure the splint in place. The strap can also be misplaced and cause great discomfort. Our instructor, Carol, wanted to make sure the strap was correctly placed for both comfort and safety. She got on her knees beside me and placed her fingers below the strap. But as she did, a special maneuver to clandestinely stroke my penis caught me by surprise. With a gleam in her eye and devious smirk, she knew I was very ready for a personal training session. I tried not to display my hardened manhood from the rest of the class by leaning up to loosen the strap. But, Carol insisted I remain in a prone position until she completed the rest of the practical session. Little did I realize that while I was being used as a patient for splinting, her well endowed assistant Wendy had volunteered to be the patient to demonstrate the use of a full back board. A backboard is used to fully immobilize the neck and back, especially after an auto accident, to prevent any movement. Thus, the patient must be tightly secured. Lying flat on the board, Wendy was tightly secured by use of several straps placed in multi-X shapes across her body. The straps ran from her shoulders across the chest between the mammoth mounds and tightened along the side. This placement of the top straps only served to accentuate the already obvious size of her breasts. The sight of her bound to the board with her boobs rising to the ceiling only served to heighten the blood flow to my manhood. But to excite me even more, Carol directed the class to pick up the back board holding Wendy and turn it upside down, directly over top of me! She then proceeded to have the class shake the board to assure Wendy was strapped securely. The vision of her massive breasts hanging directly over me, wobbling like jell-o molds, nearly caused me to explode my load. Her nipples were outlined like the two bullets and directed right at me. As she levitated over me, she began to smile and moisten her lips, as if to tease my harden state. As Wendy was being lowered on the other side of the room, Carol leaned over and whispered, “Wendy and I have a practical training session at my house this Saturday. We would love to have you come over and participate in extending your knowledge of the various uses of the medical equipment and supplies we use in class.” A personal training session, this certainly sounded inviting. How could I refuse? As I rang the doorbell at Carol’s house, I was definitely curious about the type of personal training Carol would provide. She welcomed me into the living room of the classic Victorian home with a pleasant purr. “We are so glad you decided to come and join us.” But, Wendy was nowhere to be seen. “Let’s go downstairs and concentrate on your bandaging skills.” As we slowly walked down the stairs, my heart stopped, and penis hardened. There was Wendy taped head to toe in 3” medical tape .She stood like a white plaster statue with two cream orbs jutting for light. Her legs solidly taped together fully enclosing her body all the way to her chest. There, tape was circled around each breast, forcing her bare boobs to project out like gun barrels off a battleship deck. Her erect nipples were held in place by small butterfly bandage strips circling around each hard Good and Plenty snack morsel. The tape over her lips forced her cheeks to bulge, leaving me to wonder how much packing was inside her mouth. Her eyes were covered by individual pads that were tightly taped in place with double wrapped tape. She was denied the right to even hear as safety ear plugs used protect the ear drums from loud sirens were in place and secured with an abundance of the tape that extended from her eyes. Carol grinned as she turned to me. “You need to be as adept at removing bandages as placing them on your patient. But, there is a specific order that the tape needs to be removed to provide the most comfort and pleasure for both the patient and the caregiver.” This molded masterpiece of femininity was truly a thing of beauty. Why would I even consider removing the tape and ruining such a marvelously erotic sight? It was like looking at a beautiful new car in an automobile show room. You just want to stare and admire. But, after the initial beauty is absorbed, you want to open the door and get in. It was time to start opening doors. “Your first assignment is to remove the small butterfly tapes from each nipple”, commanded Carol. These small tapes were around each nipple and needed to be removed gently. As I slowly peeled off each strip, I lowered my lips around the nipple and sucked and moistened the knob. Sensuous muffled moans of pleasure began to be heard from behind the mounds of packing and tape. Wendy was beginning to really enjoy this experience. The next assignment was to remove the larger tape that orbited the bottom of each breast. As I slowly turned and twisted the tape off the skin, a pink ring developed around the base of each mound outlining the placement of the tape. After the tape was removed from each breast, I took my tongue and licked each breast in a slow and passionate motion. Taking her orbs into my hands, I began to message each mound, gently squeezing so the nipples peaked at my mouth. I increased the sucking until I was able to absorb nearly half of the marshmallow fluffs into my mouth. By now, Wendy’s moans and groans were becoming louder and more frequent. She was trying desperately to make sexual motions but the prison of tape held her almost motionless. “Michael, you are an excellent student, but now you must remove the tape below her breasts to the top of her knees.” Though this sounded easy, but exactly where should I begin and how much tape should be removed at one time? I elected to begin just under each breast, slowly unwinding the tape as I moved around her encased body. I was reliving Christmas morning slowly opening the package as not to damage the treasure inside. But instead of just tape, I was actually removing tape over another cloth or bandage. Now, I understood what was done and why. All of this tape directly on the body would be extremely uncomfortable and irritating to the skin. Wide Kling bandages were applied first to help keep the tape from reddening and pulling the skin. But as I continued to below the navel I began to encounter a large soft, pillow like cover. “There is a large padded trauma dressing over her crotch.” purred Carol. Even with the Kling bandaging below the tape, Carol did not want to take a chance of the tape pulling out pubic hair. “Pain can be pleasure” explained Carol, “but I do not want pain to ruin pleasure, and there is so much pleasure below the padding.” After I removed the tape and bandaging from the padding, Wendy began to subtly moan as her vagina was again exposed. “Stop for just a minute” called Carol. I was soon to realize Carol did not want any pain to ruin Wendy’s pleasure. Carol reached down and slowly inserted two fingers into the lips of the void. With a gently twisting motion, she began to message Wendy’s G-spot, causing the moistening of the inner sanctum. Wendy’s knees began to bend and hips started to rotate as she tried to force even further entrance into her canal. “Not too much pleasure too soon,’ Carol said as she removed her fingers. As Carol stood up, I continued to remove the rest of the tape and bandaging all the way to Wendy’s toes. As I looked towards Carol, she shook her head in approval for me to remove the tape from her upper torso. I stood up to remove the remaining seal from her chest to her shoulders. “That’s far enough” commanded Carol. “Leave the head totally covered, no sight, no sound, no hearing.” This perplexing command was followed by an order to help Wendy to begin to walk to another room. As Carol opened the door to our left, I was amazed at the sight of various types of bondage gear hanging from the walls and ceiling. A large poster bed with leather straps on all four corners was centered in the room. As I guided Wendy into the room, Carol directed me to have her lay on the bed. Carol instructed me to anchor her legs into the leather shackles on the lower bed posts as she attached the leather bonds to Wendy’s arms at the top. “Now, we all can really enjoy adventure.” With that gleeful announcement, Carol climbed on to the bed and lowered her face into the moistened cavern of Wendy’s pleasure. As Carol tactfully employed her tongue deep inside the pelvis, Wendy shrieked and thrashed about, not to get free, but as an explosion of sexual pleasure. Carol rose up and eased back off the bed. “Wendy now expects a cold, hard plastic dildo to enter her pussy” Carol explained. “That is why I sealed her mouth, eyes and ears to give her a totally unexpected surprise. She has no idea you are here, and certainly would not expect a penis to enter.” With that simple entrée, I stripped and slowly climbed on to the bed. I was so excited I was praying I would not ejaculate before I even entered. As I slowly lowered myself, Wendy tried to raise her hips to allow an even quicker entry. When the tip end of my hard, hot cock entered her body, a loud squeal, followed by a deep moan could be heard from beneath the packing and tape over her mouth. My rhythmic motions reached steam engine proportions as I slammed forward and erupted inside her. The loud groans were accompanied by shivering, shaking and tremors as Wendy and I both experienced monumental orgasms. Her breasts slapped back and forth, swinging sweat beads into the air. I finally reached my limit and fell onto her massive chest, pinching and kissing her nipples as I dropped. “Well Michael, how did you enjoy this personal lesson in bandaging?” laughed Carol. I had to admit, this instruction certainly helped a positive attitude in student/teacher relationship. “If you so desire, we can plan another session that could involve a more personal practical experience” she commented as she climbed back on the bed. “Now everyone has had a most pleasurable experience but me,” she said, “but now, it’s my turn.” As Carol removed the tape off of Wendy’s mouth, and the wad of packing was removed, it became obvious Carol was about to receive her pleasure from Wendy’s tongue. As Carol’s legs surrounded Wendy’s cheeks, she looked around to me with a satanic smile. “Time for you to leave, Michael. Some things are very personal.” ...

continued from part 1_ Part 2 This is my weekend, my bondage weekend, my self punishment weekend, and its only Saturday morning now, I still have all day Saturday and Sunday remaining to suffer through before my self imposed bondage punishments have to end. There is a lot I can and will inflict on myself between now and then… I grew up on a farm with a slightly shabby looking farmhouse in which I and my parents live. I am an only child and somewhat of a loner, mostly I suppose because there is no one around to be mixing with, well not that I know, and I think I know everyone for miles. Mostly they are old boring adults, with busy normal lives, and no understanding of a (now) nineteen year old girls needs or interests, not that I would tell any of them of my interests, that would be just to embarrassing for words. ...

It was very stormy as the boat crossed towards the Western Isles. On board Jesse Haig was looking forward to a month cycling and camping the length of the Scottish islands. A stunning young woman of twenty-two years old, almost Viking in appearance. Think of Hagar’s daughter and you’d get the idea. Thick wavy golden blonde hair, long legs and an athletic body to die for and she’d attracted her fair share of attention since she’d blossomed. Even today while booking her ticket the seller had almost drooled over her. Still a body like hers was a rare sight up here and he’d only been human after all. ...

I was younger then. Much younger. But I was even then hooked on bondage. I remember the exact moment when I became interested in SB. I was sitting in a small adult theatre in Copenhagen and was watching a succession of BDSM films. Back then it was 8mm (non digital) and usually the theatre owner strung them together on one large reel so he didn’t have to change reels more than every twenty minutes. As a woman it was fairly unusual to sit in an adult theatre with a load of groaning men huddled under each their raincoat. Some had the balls to do whatever they did without the raincoat, but we all knew what was going on. Nobody cared. The film started rather innocently with a candle and a string passing close to the candle. And then the nice young lady started tying herself up by means of rope and belts. I was hooked. I destinctly remember joining in on the groaning. My God it was exciting. There was absolutely no reason why I should not enjoy bondage even if my husband didn’t like it. Come to think of it. He didn’t much like anything but his own ”roll over – spread your legs – thrust – ah – ah -ah – finished”. ”Was it good for you too?” Hell no – but I lied. As one does. So I visited the adult theatre instead of visiting my sister. She didn’t have a phone and this was way before mobile phones existed anywhere else but in Star Trek. I knew he wouldn’t check up on it. He didn’t like my sister and she didn’t like him. No risk there then. I was only about 8 years old when I started having thoughts about sex or at least enjoyed running naked around in the forest. Later I became obsessed with being a naughty girl, doing things I knew I shouldn’t. The nice young lady in the film was squirming around on the bed and eventually she … NAH! I’m not gonna spoil it for you. You can actually find it on the internet. Search for ”Self Bondage 7”. I’m sure you will love it. That film kept haunting me and eventually I had to try it out. The candle bit I would leave out. That didn’t seem like a good idea. It might fall over and start a fire. So I would have to work out something else. I had bought myself a pair of handcuffs in the adult theatre and they seemed to be genuine. There were small tabs you could slide over, so that the cuffs didn’t close too tight if you layed on them. I had plenty of rope – I would just use the line I had in the court for drying clothes on. Get a new one for that and cut the other one in pieces of appropriate length. Why I didn’t use the new rope for my game I don’t know. It seems silly now when I think back. If I had a reason for it, I have forgotten it. Never mind. My husband worked odd hours and finally came the day when he would be away the whole day and I’d get time to have fun. I dutyfully kissed him goodbye and waved from the door as he drove away. I rushed back and in the bedroom I hastily put out all that I would need. It was certain that I would not use a candle for getting the keys to the handcuffs, but I had already thought of a really good substitute. I wouldn’t use a gag like the nice lady in the film. She seemed to enjoy it, but when I tried to stuff my mouth with a pair of knickers, I instantly had a gag reflex and almost lost my breakfast. What I did want to use was a kerchief to tie around my head and over my eyes so I couldn’t see. I was becoming very excited and my fingers had the shakes. I could hardly tie the ropes and I kept getting it wrong. I tied a piece of rope to each bedpost. They would be my self imposed prison. I wanted to be held in place on my back and in such a way that anyone looking in the window could see me. To be honest – nobody would be able to see me, but in my mind they could. The blindfold was my way of denying me sight, so that I could imagine people looking through the window. Our house was in a small street and there was a pavement going right past our bedroom window. We lived on the ground floor of an old style building with plenty of flats and four buildings surrounding the court which we used for meeting each other, coffee, drying clothes and for the kids to play in. Ground floor was the cheapest and you didn’t get any cheaper than ground floor facing the street. Across the street there was a bodega or should we rather call it a seedy place where drunks met to get more drunk. The windows we had was facing the street and for normal use, we had some build in shutters that folded back inside the window frame. When we went to bed those shutters served to shut out the light from the street and secure our privacy. In the window openings we also had net curtains close to the glass and heavier curtains with patterns to make it look cosier from the inside. The net curtains were enough to hinder anyone looking in through our windows in daytime, so I decided to leave the nice curtains and the shutters open. It would then be easier to pretend people looking in. Phew – just the thought of it made me tremble with anticipation. I wasn’t comfortable with being all naked for this so I was wearing my bra and knickers, but even that felt really naughty. First I laid out on the bed – spread eagled – and decided where to tie the loop for the handcuffs so that once I had tied the legs and one wrist I could click the handcuffs into this last loop. I tied my legs to the bottom bedposts (facing the window) and since it was a double bed I was pretty spread out. Then came the blindfold. Nope – can’t see a thing. Except a sliver of light if I looked down hard enough. With some difficulty I tied the left wrist and had now put myself in a position where my legs were spread and my left arm pointed towards the third bedpost. The handcuffs were easy to get onto my right wrist and it was only a matter of seconds before I had the tip of the open cuff fitted into the last loop. Before I clicked it shut I felt for my escape mechanism. Yes it was all there. Ready to go. CLICKETY CLICK. That was it. I was now tied helplessly to our bed and anyone outside could see me (almost). I was absolutely thrilled. I had done it and now I’d come and come and come. What really happened was that after a lot of squirming and trying to make something happen, I realized that being tied isn’t enough. There has to be some sort of manipulation of my secret place before I could come. And while waiting to experience an unmanipulated orgasm I became bored. Even the make belief crowd gathered outside the bedroom window couldn’t do it. BUGGER! Time to use my escape mechanism. I had tied a long piece of string to the handcuff key and left it in the other room as far as I could get from the bed. The end was securely tied to the handcuffs and it was only a matter of pulling the key towards me and I would be free. Since I had limited movement in my hands it would take some time before the key would land in my hand. Very exciting isn’t it? The ultimate release mechanism. Not really, but it was all I could think of back then. So I started reeling in the key as if being on a fishing trip with a hand held line. I reckon I was about half way when the door to the flat was opened and my husbands voice sounded like a fog horn… ”Darling” (God I hate it when someone calls me Darling. It’s bad enough in English but in Danish it has a hidden meaning – something like ”I’m better than you and your just a doll”). ”The car broke down and I decided to come home instead of walking all the way to work.” I heard him approach the bedroom. This was really bad. I tried reeling in a lot faster, but I also realized that no matter what, I would never make it in time. But of course this was perhaps a good thing. He would see that I liked bondage and I wouldn’t have to stutter through an akward conversation to make it known to him. Now he would rip my underwear and ravish me and we would live happily ever after. I heard him come into the bedroom. He didn’t speak. He didn’t rip off my underwear. He didn’t do anything. After a while I heard him opening and closing cupboards and closets. The drawers in the bedstand was opened and closed after a while. All the sounds were unfamiliar and difficult to interpret. I heard weird noices and eventually I heard the front door open and close. I tried to call out. No reply. I tried pleading with him for response. Nothing. I didn’t hear anything for a long time. I reeled in the string and at the end of the string there was nothing. No key. I was stuck until he saw fit to come home again. Hours passed. Quite a few hours and my need to pee became intolerable. And in the end I had to give in and pee in the bed. I felt the warm fluid spreading under my bum and I felt really bad. A grown woman peeing herself. More time passed and I got cold and the fluid under me soaked into the bed but the sheets were still cold and damp. And smelly. I tried again and again to reach the knots so I could free myself. No luck there. He was teasing me. He was sitting in a chair watching me soil myself and eventually he’d ravish me. This was not just bondage where your partner simulated a tie and had his way with you as the ropes slid off or loosened by themselves to reveal that it was a silly game. These ropes were tied for real. The handcuffs weren’t going to fall off on their own. While I waited for him to make his move I got really excited. I tried to gain some pleasure out of my knickers as I tried to wriggle my bum to get them to ride up between my buttock and in this way gently rub my secret place. I got excited but it wasn’t enough to give me an orgasm. But I could smell myself. Like a bitch in heat mixed with a public toilet. I was sure it must be getting dark outside, but trying to look out under my blindfold I could still see light. It seemed to be the wrong colour for daylight and then it hit me. HE HAD TURNED ON THE LIGHT AND FORGOT TO TURN THEM OFF AGAIN. This seriously changed the game. I hadn’t heard him close the curtains and I certainly didn’t hear him close the shutters. OH MY GOD! This meant that the room would be lit and outside would be dark. And that meant that anyone outside in the dark could see what goes on in the lit room. SOMEONE CAN SEE ME NOW! I thrashed around in the bed as well as I could, but to no avail. The ropes didn’t snap. The key didn’t miraculously turn up in my hand. And my husband didn’t do anything to help me. I was now lying in a bed – spread eagled – and anyone passing our bedroom window could see me. They would surely be able to see the big wet patch under my bum and they would know what it was. But perhaps they couldn’t really see everything? Perhaps I was wrong? But then again – I’d often passed other peoples windows and looked into their livingrooms and I knew that it was possible to see everything. Somehow the thought of this made my insides feel good. It was like butterflies and also felt very much like when I gently stroked my private parts in the dark hours when my husband slept after he had had his way with me. I was feeling good and I tried my best to ride my knickers and they made the feeling so much better. It was when I heard noises outside my window and the distinct sound of someone hitting the window (with a hand or forehead?) that I felt the orgasm sneak up on me like an express train hurtling through my tunnel. It was powerful. I’m sure I screamed. And then I passed out. When I came back to my senses I heard people laughing outside. I heard drunken voices and I knew instantly that I was the target of their scorn. Someone was trying to open the front door, but luckily my husband had locked the door when he left. I came several more times and in between I had to pee again. I felt aroused and disgusted at the same time. I felt extremely humiliated and I was sure that I would have to move to another town after this. As it happened that was exactly what happened. It wasn’t until late next day that my husband returned. He had packed some essentials the day before because he wanted to leave me, but he decided that since I was the pevert, I’d be the one to leave. He unlocked the handcuffs and told me that we were finished. He was leaving me, or rather – I had to leave our home and never come back. He told me that he’d be back the following day and that he expected me to be gone. Packing my stuff and leaving wasn’t that difficult. After all I realized that we wouldn’t be able to patch this one. It was the wait outside for the taxi that was the worst. People looked at me in a funny way and had the feeling that everyone in town knew and probably had been outside our bedroom window during the night. In a funny sort of way this inconsiderate husband of mine actually set me free to pursue a better path in life. I got an education, a job and another (great) husband. And this time I made sure that he knew about my lust for bondage and as it turned out, he actually encouraged me to try self bondage again. He never was good at tying me up, but I became good at tying myself. He had so many other qualities that I actually could have given up … No I couldn’t, but I’m happy that I didn’t have to keep it a secret. As time progressed my self bondage seemed to always have an element of humiliation and nearly always some sort of risk of getting caught. The feeling of humiliation came back when I came back some years later to bury my mum. Maybe it wasn’t just them but also the ropes I wore under my coat. Who knows. But it was perfect. Maybe later I’ll tell you about my first self bondage session in an adult theatre. Yes the very same I used to frequent. And that was before the divorce. ...

I was tired. I had been horny like crazy for two weeks. I need a release. When I closed my eyes, that rope under my bed, coiled and unused floated through my brain. I went to my summer jobs, bored and tired, turning myself on by thinking about fantasies of getting tied to various objects or positions, wondering which position would stimulate me the most. I would then have to struggle to hide my hard-on from everyone else, but hell, what else was I going to do? ...

Early in the day I asked my Master if I could have the freedom to please him with a surprise that night when he got home from work. He gave me permission to do so as long as I video taped myself getting ready for him. I knew he would be home late that night so after finishing my daily routine I ran a bath and made myself a drink. I soaked in the bath, made sure I was scrubbed clean, and all my body hair was shaved off. ...

I lay on our bed, my upper body propped up on a pile of pillows, reading a cooking magazine. A very low and muffled sound made me look across the room. I glanced over at the clock, to see how long it had been. I put down my magazine, reached down, and softly stroked my clit. Across the room was Sean, my fiancé. We had been in love since we were 19, were now 26, and were engaged to be married in 6 months. At the moment he was seated in what must be his favorite piece of furniture, one which he had lovingly built by hand. His bondage chair. He had copied the basic design from an Internet site, but had made a few alterations. The frame was of 4" x 4" oak posts, mounted on a 2.5’ square of heavy plywood, and it was remarkably heavy. But it was on industrial grade castors however, and, if necessary, Sean could push it into our walk-in closet and drape blankets over it to hide it. ...

Before I began my story, I would like to explain my situation. My wife and I both lead busy lives, and when one of us gets time off, the other is usually working. And if both of us have time off, our son is usually home. Needless to say, our sexual life is drastically affected. My wife is absolutely gorgeous (I lucked out big time). And on top of that, she is very understanding about my desire for BDSM. I love being tied up and dominated, and my wife will often use me for her personal servitude. But because of our busy schedules, I often partake in self bondage. ...