I write this in the hope that someday someone will read this and know the great pleasures and great pain that all men will experience in the near future. One Saturday night while sitting at home watching television I suddenly was startled by the ringing of my telephone. I picked up the phone and said “hello.” It was my beautiful neighbor Christine on the other end. She said, “I noticed you were home on Saturday night. I don’t have anything to do either, why don’t you come over and we’ll watch TV together.” I said, “Sure, I will be right over.” I cannot believe that she would call and invite me over. I have always had a crush on her because she is so beautiful. I walked over to her house and knocked on the door. When she answered she was standing there dressed in a black lycra mini-dress with black stockings and black high heels. I asked, “Why are you all dressed up if you are just watching TV.” ...

Greetings dear reader! You probably already know all about me, Scott Carey, “The Incredible Shrinking Man”, the strange circus attraction who had to sell his story to the tabloids, the publishing houses, eventually to Hollywood. You know that I was exposed to a radioactive cloud that put my metabolism in reverse gear. Literally! From that fateful day on, I was shrinking! I was losing height at a rate of an inch per week! ...

Jon and Beth came back from their afternoon outing tired but happy. They had spent the afternoon hiking in the sunshine through dense forests and past shimmering lakes. It was their weekend ritual. Later in the evening, there was another part of the ritual. Jon always looked forward to it, although he never let Beth know it. He waited for her to ask the usual question. Beth seemed embarrased. She had just come fron the shower and sat on the bed near Jon. “Um, honey? Would you mind…uh…checking? Please?” ...

David carefully applied superglue to the elastic net inside the wig, then slipped the hairpiece over the shiny smoothness of his bald head, taking pains to insure that he left no glue traces in visible spots on his cheeks or temples. He adjusted the wig carefully, checking its placement in the vanity mirror, and held down the net for a half minute or so to allow the adhesive to dry completely. ...

“Well, I guess this is the place.” Robin McGillis said as she held up and matched the address in the paper with the address on the building. The place certainly didn’t look like a modeling agency. She hadn’t had a job for months. Robin walked up and knocked on the door. A young woman with her blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail answered. She had a pleasant smile encased in orange lipstick that matched her nail polish. What really surprised Robin was the white lab coat she wore. “You must be the young lady who called about the job.” ...

“It will soon be Christmas”, Jane Roxton remarked to her boyfriend Jack Moore. “We had better start thinking about what to buy each other”. Jane and Jack had been an item for the past eighteen months. Jane and Jack had quite a few rows, mainly over their love of bondage. Both liked the other tying them up but Jack was more than reticent in tying her up. It was Jack that came up with the solution. He got his best friend Sam involved. Jane would tie Jack up and gag him, Sam would then bound and gag her and go out for an evening’s drinking, leaving them to struggle for a few hours. However, he always turned up to release them. ...

I find it unfortunate that over the past ten years as technology has advanced with cell phones and e-mail that true communication has deteriorated to such a poor level. Even persons of higher education and elevated position who possess the ability and should know better provide little more than grunts. You have undoubtedly seen such e-mails and perhaps even heard the poor presentations by cell phone of many who you know could command better language. It has become common practice for managers to send four to six word statements without either salutation or signature. ...

Part One Hi, my name is Christine. During my college years, I would spend summers at home working for my grandfather’s Foundation. Virtually all of my close friends, who were home for the summer, would get together about once a month for a pool party at someone’s house. On a June afternoon, the summer between my junior and senior years in college, we were all gathered for a pool party at my best friend Lisa’s house. There were about 20 of us there, probably about 50/50 girls and guys. We’d stay through dinner, ordering pizza or other food delivery, or sometimes barbeque burgers and dogs. The girls all wore their skimpiest sexiest bikinis and the guys generally wore their baggy swim trunks. I was 22 at the time. I was a business major in college and played women’s fast pitch softball. My other interests included: tennis, swimming, painting, dancing, and I’ve been a part time commercial model since I was about 10 years old. I’m 5’10”, 125 pounds, long dark brown hair past my shoulders, deep blue eyes, and 36C-22-35 (yes, the 22” waist is not a typo). I’ve been best friends with Lisa since the 3rd grade. We don’t keep track of each other’s measurements anymore, except maybe dress size and cup size. She’s 5’9”, long blonde hair, blue eyes, slim, fit, sexy, and probably 34Cs. Lisa played softball with me all through high school and college, and is a graphic arts major. Lisa’s rectangular pool has a permanent water polo goal setup at the shallow end. Around the goal is a large backstop type net that returns the ball to the pool, when a shot on goal is missed. ...

“Smile! My sweet slave. That is the only command for this night. Smile and enjoy the decadent sexual anguish.” Mistress slowly caressed the nylon covered legs from the soft round curve of the ass along the inside of the thighs and calves to the tips of the polished toenails. The white firm support nylon pantyhose were so appropriate for this virgin slave or at least virgin territory. The very red, tender, and rising welts on the back from shoulder blades to knees provided justification for tears. The slave was strapped down so tight that movement was impossible and even breathing was labored. A thin shiny film of perspiration glistened over every inch of flesh. ...

Authors Note: This story while it is not a direct follow up to The Villain, it resolves the open ended-ness of that story with a bit of flashback. Sarah took a sip, but then had to resist spitting her mouthful out across the table. She managed to swallow without dousing her companion, and burst into a big laugh afterward, “Are you serious, he said that?” Kate was caught in a bite of her cookie, excused herself as she swallowed and responded in kind, “Yeah, that little douchebag actually thought I OWED him for coming to my rescue…” She realized her voice was rising to a level audible to those at nearby tables, and she put her hand to her mouth and chuckled, giving an embarrassed look that Sarah returned. Kate had picked this place for coffee because it was usually empty after lunch and they found a quiet nook there to chat about things that they didn’t necessarily want others to hear. People near the front of the cafe were talking about movies from the 50’s. Two retired men near the kitchen were arguing about Jack Dempsey vs. Muhammad Ali, an age old “Who would win?” contest men and boys had all their lives. These were nice and boisterous, and they drew attention from the two attractive women sitting in the back, their hushed tones carrying the sordid details of humiliation and discovery at the hands of one man named Matt who, unwittingly, must have cashed in all of his “lucky chips” to fulfill his fantasy of finding a gorgeous young woman naked, bound and helpless, inadvertently falling under his clumsy control; not once, but twice. Sarah and Kate shared the ignominious medal of having been caught by that buffoon while indulging in a little innocent self-bondage that he turned into dangerous no-escape situations. Kate recalled the story like an episode of a TV show, a rhythmic tale of plans gone wrong one day when she set herself in a taut spread eagle to the corners of her bed with iron head and foot boards, lingering joyously alone for several hours, leaving out no small details about her favorite black gag and the custom clamps she had made that started at excruciating and went to medieval. Sarah imagined a laugh track as the story progressed, and the lively whispers evolved into a debate of the benefits of being spread versus closed in a tight bind; Sarah argued her points for the defense with the memory of the Matt event still fresh in her mind. They found their conversations of technique and style titillating and informative, and both lamented the fact that they had not had each others company and counsel sooner than that night two months ago when they first met, sharing two technical mistakes that made them a unique pair; they both dated Matt and in the fuss and flurry of their kinky indulgence, they both forgot to lock their doors on fateful nights. “He is one lucky fucker” grumbled Sarah. ...

Rope’s not my thing. I’m more into the potential for humiliation and getting caught. Why does one always have to be hobbled or tied when on an adventure? So here’s the tale of how I got myself into a pickle, just to get my jollies. The whole idea of what my aroused mind wanted to do seemed like too much work for me, so I managed to convince myself one step at a time. ...

continued from part 3 Part 4 Once again, she came and lay close beside me – she pulled the duvet up over us, but she didn’t release me. But we just lay there, in post-coital bliss, while she just traced idle patterns around my balls, and up my prick, around the tip, and back again. Me, I couldn’t do anything – Lisa was a most generous woman – she gave without seeking a return. Mind you, she had had two crashing orgasms within half an hour, so she wasn’t doing too badly. ...

continued from part 4 Part 5. I gradually relaxed, and let my sensations take over. I was in this complete rubber and latex skin, and there was a cool breeze blowing over me – Lisa must have opened the window wide before leaving the room. At least, I assumed she had left the room – for all I knew, she might have been there taking photographs of me from all angles to send to my clients as an example of what their accountant got up to in his spare time. In fact, that thought didn’t occur to me then, and I don’t know why it should have come into my head now – except to be instantly dismissed because a.) Lisa wouldn’t do such a thing, and b.) actually, I didn’t give a toss if she did. ...

Part One: The Measure “Quickly there is some one else in the shop”, the elder of the two women glanced through the parted door. True enough she saw a woman of about 50 slowly browsing through the racks of clothes. it was unusual to see a more mature lady in the small boutique but by her style of dress it was clear she was no mere window shopper. The older of the two women shifted her position to get a better look. The customer was tall and blessed with a figure well below her years, long shapely legs were enhanced by the deep sheen of supple burgundy red leather pants, the same shape of material formed the loose silk blouse, displaying beneath, a bust which despite its fullness clearly required no support. A wide black patent belt, highlighting her slim waist connected these two equally beautiful halves of her body. The woman, Vanessa, remained still as the customer neared, now she could see her face, perfect features full lips , dark eyes, high cheeks, all emphasised by immaculate , rich make up, not to heavy yet dramatic enough to be clear this woman knew her beauty and all framed by thick waves of shoulder length red silken hair, shot through with sparkling grey that hinted at a woman confident in her looks and happy with her age, this woman was quite stunning. Vanessa Homewood smiled. ...

04:03 am, there is a garbage bag beside me, inside of it, there is a layer of scrunched up paper. This time, I managed to get a whole pile of no print news paper from a local printing company they produce at the beginning of a new run saying it was for a kids project. That will prevent me from getting all black and dirty as I saw me when I got home after my first experience in a dumpster. ...

continued from part 4 Part 5: Maximummification At last, the unraveling of her awesome rope-web trapping her splinted, casted, spread-eagled victim down completely immovably on the bed had begun. She’d taken pictures from all angles to document the experience, admiring her thoroughness, strictness and creativity. Wife-spider-mistress was certainly not fooling around with binding him up, she was completely obsessive about it, taking it to the highest levels! She was really into this game like never before and he was shocked and amazed at her. She was a woman obsessed and possessed, alright! And he was in for more mind-boggling mummification bondage for the overnight and the next day! ...

The smell of roasted chestnuts filled the air from my scented plug in, as I basked in the ambience. The crackling logs spitting on the open fire, the twinkling of fairy lights glistening on the tree and window lightly dusted with frost. My husband was snuggled up on the sofa watching the typical Christmas Eve films. I looked at our twinkling fir tree with all the neat little packages with bows & ribbons, nestled safely under the tree, and thought to myself, ‘I wonder which of them presents under there are from him’. Well looking back at last Christmas when I received an ironing board cover, I realised I wanted something a little more exciting for Christmas this year. ...

“Gentlemen, we’ve got a problem”. Chet said. He frowned across the big conference table. The room was cool and clammy, thanks to the noisy air conditioning; Outside the Arabian American embassy under the glaring sun of Riyadh, it was at least forty degrees hotter. Chet––Chester Gathright, assistant ambassador to Arabia (but, as every one knew, the head of the CIA station) frowned again at the four men, his associates, around the table. He is fiftyish, well built, balding, with mild features; forgettable in a crowd; one might say an attribute in his profession. His frown is tinged with rueful deprecation, and just a little humor. ...

Here I am squatted down in somewhat of a upright fetal position in the shadows of a dirty closet on the first floor of a filthy abandoned building on Lake Street about six blocks West of downtown Chicago on a balmy Friday night in July. My name is Alicia. My black leather elbow length gloved hands are locked behind my back at the wrists with a medium sized brass “master Lock” attached to a leather lead strap that is connected to a posture collar that is locked about my neck. The posture collar is firmly holding on my head a black leather lace up hood with openings for my eyes, two small holes for my nose and a small hole where the mouth would be. Under that hood is a large red ball gag tightly buckled between my red painted lips that all but covers the mouth hole in the mask. My ankles of my black size 8 knee high lace up leather boots with a 5 inch heal are locked together with another larger brass “Master Lock” that allows for 2-3 inches of gap between the ankles. My Black pleated latex skirt has risen up to expose my sheer thigh high stockings and lace garter belts. I’m not wearing any panties. They had been replaced by a length of chrome chain that is wrapped tightly around my waist and pulled roughly between my legs and is locked just below the small of my back with another small brass “master lock.” The chain has become my steel g-string digging deeply into the soft flesh between my legs. The chain is not without purpose. Its application was to hold the large black butt plug and the 6-inch extra thick black latex dildo tightly in place. I did not use any vibrators on this trip I had been a “bad girl” and I needed punished. ...

continued from part 2 Part 3 After I had finished with my email and made dinner, Tom finally removed my gag. I told him that I had invited Elexa to come visit and her girlfriend Stacy would be coming along. He was pleased, he wanted to talk to her, he didn’t know last time they met that she was the reason I was into bondage. Also I think he wanted to learn more about bondage, I told him she was a bondage freak, with an uncontrollable nag for restraints. I on the other hand wanted to meet Stacy, being her new dominatrix I wanted to see what she could teach Tom. ...