Based on a true story… with a few slight and probably obvious embellishments The Lockbox, however, exists exactly as depicted :) Garments described are from Twist My Rubber Arm: http://twistmyrubberarm.com/index.php?code=7021&cat=34 and http://twistmyrubberarm.com/index.php?code=1009&cat=34 Samantha couldn’t stop thinking about it all day… Fridays normally flew by, but this one seemed to be taking forever - minutes ticked by slower and slower. If she could just make it to quitting time, she could head home and… well… get herself into some trouble. Waiting at home was Sam’s newest invention. She had a few inventions, really. None of them earth-shattering, but they were special to her. She’d been an Electrical Engineering major in college, but never really made much use of that now. The job market was tough, but she found decent, but boring work at a local web design shop. She was a geek, a girl, good with customers, and knew some PHP, so most of her day was spent telling clients what they wanted. She didn’t love it, but it paid the bills and kept her busy. Her engineering skills lay dormant for a long time, until Sam stumbled upon some basic robotics kits online. Things had gotten much easier than they were when she was back in school, and it was now merely a matter of writing a few lines of code to move a servo, trigger a solenoid, or power up an electromagnet. Sam barely had her first servo moving before she was sketching up the designs for her latest toy. She was calling it simply the “Lockbox”, it was essentially a ruggedized box that, once enabled, did one thing: locked it’s two pieces together, with no way to release them with your bare hands until the allotted time expired. There are other methods for locking yourself in, but Sam had a particular bent towards safety (If you can call inescapable self-bondage safe) and wanted a device that was secure when powered up, but “failed open” if anything went wrong. She also wanted something that was portable, so large electomagnetic locks were out, since that would need wall power. In the end, all Sam really needed was a push-type solenoid, a few batteries, and a microcontroller. She fashioned the box and the “tongue” that she inserted inside, and when the solenoid fired and pushed through the hole in the “tongue” it was trapped inside the larger box. Her tests so far had been perfect. If the batteries died, the tongue slid free, so in the worst possible case, she would be free when the batteries ran out… however long that took. Sam wrote a simple program that doubled her time “in” successively. She would have a few tries to make sure she was comfortable and in for long-term play as the box gave her chances to pull out at 5, 10, and 20 minutes. The next “click” shut after that would be the real test. Would she stay in for 40 more minutes? Then 80? Was she ready for some serious play? She’d never pushed it that far. Her early tests had been intentionally boring and safe, just making sure everything was working right, and the concept got her a little too excited for long term play. With her head full of ideas, she’d climaxed and put the box away for when she had some real time to spend with it. But, tonight was the night. She had the weekend to herself with her lovely but decidedly vanilla boyfriend out of town, and she was due for some mischief. Finally, the clock clicked 7, Sam shut down her workstation, and rode home. Sam had her night all planned out, and if everything went right, she’d be in for some overnight fun. She wolfs down a sandwich and drinks some water, and then darts to the bedroom feeling like a kid on Christmas. Her clothes almost make it into the hamper, cast towards it with disregard as she strips and gets her latex garments out of their hiding spot. Latex panties are lovingly lubed and shined, then slither onto her body. This is almost her favorite part, second only to the locking in. They slide on, enveloping her in their cool touch, and her heart starts beating faster. She resists the urge to flop down on the bed right there and take the easy way out, and picks up another garment. Next is her latex bra with tiny nubs on the inside that make her go tingly the instant she puts it on. She grabs some of her bondage gear, a pillow from the bed, two larger latex items, the Lockbox, and walks out into the apartment. She feels wild - walking around where she was normally just Samantha, she was now wearing nothing but some latex underwear and loves the sight of herself, long brown hair swinging behind her as she strides past the mirror. She feels like a goddess, and like a demon, and knows there is no turning back tonight. She wants to be wicked, and she’s going to be both the giver and receiver of her own punishment. She’s going to be locked away like a rubber toy, and she craves it with intensity that scares her and thrills her. Grabbing a garbage bag from the kitchen, Sam stuffs the pillow inside and seals the end. If she’s going to be in for a while, she wants to be comfortable, but she doesn’t want to sweat all over the bed or ruin her pillow. Besides, a plastic pillow seems fitting for a rubber toy to sleep on. Carrying all her gear, Sam steps into the bathroom. She opens the top of the Lockbox and flips the switch. Sam knows the startup sequence will give her about 5 minutes to get ready, so she has to move quickly. Closing the box, she tightens down the 4 small bolts at the corner with an allen key and then slips a hose clamp around the small box and tightens it down. Leaving the rest of her gear, she walks the tools back into the guest room, far out of reach once she’s locked in. She can’t open the box without them, and once she’s inserted the tongue into the Lockbox and it activates, there’s no getting it out until the time had elapsed. She returns to the bathroom and turns off the light, leaving only the dim glow of the nightlight. It’s dark out now, nearly 9pm, and she’s wasting no time with the rest of her preparations. Thinking quickly, she makes a last minute decision and darts back into the bedroom. She returns to the bathroom, slipping her small, buzzing friend into her panties on ’low’. It’s not enough to bring her over the edge, but it would help keep things fun as she stews in her own trap. Next, one of the large, floppy pieces of latex - it starts as just a black, lifeless tube as she sits on the closed toilet, but soon her feet are inside, then her legs, and it holds them together tightly like a latex mermaid without the tail. Next, she locks rubber cuffs on each wrist. Her keys are just in the next room, but by the time she’s done, she won’t be able to get to them. Her thick, locking rubber collar goes on next, and the “snick” of the lock at the base of her skull sends a shiver down her spine. It’s on until she gets to her keys, and Sam’s realizing quickly that she’s really out to do this right tonight. It’s time for the final preparations. Sam tosses the plastic covered pillow into the tub where her head will be, and then climbs in with the last of her gear next to her. She hears a beep, then a click from the Lockbox. It’s started it’s run with a 1 minute test cycle. No matter, she can insert the tongue any time - the taper allows it to push in, but not come out until the mechanism opens. She still has to move fast though, or she’ll risk losing the short cycles and have to start with 10 or 20 minutes in. She picks up the Lockbox and attaches a short run of chain from a d-ring on it’s backside to her collar. She locks that shut, and begins her final preparations. She picks up a length of chain and locks it around her latex sealed ankles, and then locks it again to the drain in the tub. The keys are right next to her, but only if she has use of her hands… Sam picks up her other favorite new invention - it started life as a latex top with an attached hood and breathing tube, but after one of the arms ripped, she repaired it with a twist. Instead of fixing the arm, she eliminated them both altogether. She would now be totally wrapped in latex when she pulled the top down over her body, trapping her arms against her body and enveloping her totally in restrictive rubber. Normally, she would be able to reach her hands out through the bottom, but tonight, the Lockbox was going to “fix” that little problem. She pulls the garment over her head, and plops her head up into the attached hood. She’s now surrounded in smooth, soft latex blackness, her only connection to the outside world the air that flows through the tube on her hood. She envisions someone finding her here and toying with her, playing with her breathing tube, watching her struggle, trapped in her latex cocoon. Heady visions of latex captors are running wild in her brain, and she pulls the latex top down around her arms, scootching it down until it meets the latex sheath that wraps her legs and torso. In her hand is clutched 1 final lock, and the tongue of the Lockbox. She fishes the lock through the d-rings on her wrist cuffs, then through the first hole in the tongue. With a click, her wrists were now locked together. She holds the tongue near her neck. All she has to do is slide it home, and she’s stuck. Sam had been here many times - sitting on the edge of trouble, inches from the point of no return. So many times, she’d been safe, and smart, and not gotten herself stuck, knowing that there was no way out. Now, she had a way out… eventually, and she wanted in. She hears the lockbox click open. That was probably the 5 minute cycle done. Next would be 10. It was time. She wiggles a little, getting everything comfortable, and pushes the tongue home. A few seconds later, she feels the click of the solenoid engaging, and tugs on her wrists. This is it. She’s stuck. Her hands didn’t move at all away from her neck, she just felt a tug on her thick collar. Without her hands, she flexs her elbows out away from her body. The rubber enveloping her gives, but then returns her arms right back to her body. The garment does not budge from her waist, gripping onto the latex around her legs and hips. She’s sealed completely in rubber, comfortable and safe, but 100% trapped until the Lockbox let her free. Click. It’s open already. Had that really been 10 minutes? She was just starting to warm up and luxuriate as her little friend hummed merrily along in her panties. Click - she’s back in again, this time for 20 minutes. Sam daydreams and squirms. She’s in absolute heaven, trapped completely as she wants to be. Nothing hurts, nothing feels too hot or cold - her circulation is great. In her cogent moments, Sam checks for warning signs - things that would make her safeword in long-term play. Everything was checking out, no pressure points, nothing tingled or hurt. And… Oh, god… if only she’d turned her little vibe up to medium. Click. She was free if she wants to be. Next click is 40 minutes. There’s no debate in Sam’s mind. She sees another version herself in her minds eye, standing over her in her rubber bra, saying “you think you’re getting out? I like you like this. I think I’ll keep you like this forever - a rubber tub toy… my own little latex worm…” Click. Sam’s trapped again. 40 minutes now. “You really did it” she thinks to herself. “This is your trap, and you’re really stuck.” Lightning goes from her cilt to her head like a tiny flash of an orgasm and her back arches. Everything intensifies but she hasn’t peaked - she’s still building up like a pressure cooker. Time dilates. Daydream blurs into a brief subspace and latex induced sleep. Sam breathes deeply, riding the edge of ecstasy and blissing out. Sam wakes slightly startled by a click. She’s free from the 40 minute cycle. She could stop now if she wanted. She manages only to say “Mmmm” and smile as she squirms in her now slick, hot prison. The “click” of 80 minutes trapped sings home, and Sam is lost to subspace, moaning once in a while, grinding into her little friend however she can, and losing herself. … In the bedroom, a digital clock reads 10:20pm click… “mmm” click… …. 1:00am click… “zzz” click… …. 6:20am click… click… …. Sam wakes up, hot, sweating and… oh, hello little friend. She smiles as the now faintly buzzing little vibrator reminds her of her predicament. She stretches and feels the latex bring her back. Yup, still totally trapped. Her skin feels silky and soft against the latex. God she’s horny. How long has she been asleep? She tugs at her wrists, which move precisely no-where. Well, it can’t be that long until the next cycle. She rests for a while, but doesn’t fall asleep. She doesn’t want to miss the next click - she’d really like to get herself off now and be done, and climb into her nice soft bed. Time passes, and still nothing. She started doing some mental math. She remembered the 80 minute, and then the 160… God, she’d locked her self in for another two hours and 40 minutes. It should be nearly 1am soon. Still nothing… could it be, had she slept through the 320? If so, it could be any time. How could she have missed the solenoid clicking? “Oh well,” she thought “if I slept, maybe it’s 3 or 4 in the morning. The next cycle would be… 6:20… Heh, I guess I really did get the overnight session I was hoping for.” Sam surrenders to her trap, knowing that she’s in for a few more hours at least. She idly squirms and daydreams, imagining multiple captors - or her sweet boyfriend coming home early only to keep her as a rubber pet. She dangles so close to orgasm she sees lights at the edge of her vision - staring into the blackness of the inside of her hood. Somewhere outside of her hood, Sam hears a sound. Something high-pitched. Was that…. No it couldn’t be She hears it again, the distinct chirping of a bird… Sam hears a car door shut. Then it starts and rumbles off. These are sounds of morning. Saturday morning. It must be 7 or 8 am. Oh god. Could it be… Did she sleep through the 640 minute cycle? She knew she should have programed that out, but it was easy to just write the doubling function and she was a bit… distracted. The reality hits home. She does the math. 5pm. She was stuck in till 5pm, a totally helpless rubber slave, trapped by a cruel mistress, and left to her fate. It’s too much - Sam struggles and bucks and kicks, but there’s nothing to be done. She’s totally trapped. Her legs are locked down and her arms are useless. She breathes heavily and the hood sucks to her face, the hose too skinny to handle her exertion. Panic turns to adrenaline and suddenly Sam is bucking for a wholly different reason. The orgasm of her life rolls over her in wave after wave. She loses count around 3, and comes back to her senses a few minutes later, a bit more sober, but exhausted and completely sated. She’s stuck. There’s absolutely nothing she can do - she is a rubber prisoner until 5pm, or whenever her batteries run out. She stretches a bit, and smiles. Her little friend is still buzzing ever so gently, nudging her to enjoy it. She mews, settles in, and closes her eyes. There’s worse ways to spend a Saturday. -Lckdnrbbr Comments, suggestions, etc can be sent to: [email protected] (P.S. - I’m a boy. Samantha is one of the obvious embellishments :) ) (P.P.S. - I could be talked into sharing schematics for the lockbox, but aside from the fact that it’s a profoundly stupid device, you’ll need a laser cutter, arduino, and some electronics skills to put it together.) ...

continued from part 2 Part 3 I lay there quietly alongside her, thinking furiously. What would Jenny have said? How involved was I going to get? What was it that had caused the explosion of lust? The last question was easy: Lisa was one sexy lady, and I, although I hadn’t thought about it, was ready for sex again. Well, maybe I had thought about it, but I’d repressed it (it’s the early part of the male mid-life crisis – later on, you’re apt to think about it too much, and go out and make a fool of yourself with much younger women). ...

Lucy felt sweat trickle down her back, she had done what her master had instructed and started her day by putting on the clothes he had neatly laid out on their bed before he left for work. First she’d carefully pulled up the red latex stockings making sure to smooth out any creases. Next she’d stepped into the thick black rubber body; it hugged and caressed every curve of her flesh with her ample size double D boobs protruding through the holes at the front. The smell and feel of the rubber aroused her and whilst looking in a full length mirror she’d noticed her nipples harden. ...

You call my cell phone earlier in the day and get my voice mail. You know that later tonight you will be detaining me under your terms. You leave me a message that goes something like this; “Babe, when you get home, I have plans for you tonight and I will be wearing some sexy zebra outfit and sexy high heels. Don’t be distracted when you come in because I will have a crop in my hand and I won’t hesitate to use it. So you better behave. Do what I tell you! I may tie your hands up at first. I may just tie you to the bed for a few minutes. I may gag you or tie a rope around your neck and force you to suck on my feet or pussy or something like that, but remember, I am in control when you step through the door”. ...

John finally hit the enter key on his PC. That was the last line of code for the programming of his new machine. He created it for his partner David who was a huge fan of mummification. He decided to make Davids mummification easier and better, he’d use his skills as a selfmade engineer work for his benefit. He’d studied on his own, taken some classes online, but never finished any formal training. His day job as a Property Inspector helped keep the two of them financially stable. David volunteered in most local theater productions, both onstage and behind the scenes. He did have a parttime job at a local store to help out. ...

Published in Pleasure Bound magazine in two parts. All rights reserved. Part 1 The trolley moved steadily up the mountain, almost silent on its rubber wheels. A stout clamp around her waist secured its reluctant prisoner to her seat. Amanda’s neck was confined in a rigid brace, hinged to control the movement of her head, with attachments for her wrists on either side. She wore only a pair of highly polished black leather boots that reached almost to her hips. The soft leather clung to her shapely legs, which were parted wide by ropes clipped to heavy steel rings on the ankle bands concealed under the soft leather of her boots. There was nothing delicate about the exposure of her sex. The soft folds of her inner flesh were dressed only in their natural covering of wispy blonde hair. ...

(story continues from Anniversary Surprise) Part 2: Two Days Before Damn, damn, damn, thought Jamie. If the phone had rung a only minute sooner, she would have been able to answer it. Or if she had been just a little slower, she could have still reached over and grabbed the phone, before it became impossible for her to answer it. “I’m sorry that I can’t take your call. I’m a little tied up right now.” ...

It was that time of the week again when the bin bags are put out for collection. My husband was sat playing on the computer when I looked at him suggestively and moaned, “It’s your turn to take out the bins tonight” He looked reluctant and acted very vacant to the fact that I had even asked him to accomplish this simple chore. This made me slightly mad, yet a devilish thought entered my mind, I thought if he wants to act like a rubbish husband – he might as well be one, so I went in to the kitchen and searched frantically for the extra large 240ltr black wheelie bin liners. When I came across the silky roll, I rubbed the roll in my hand and a wicked smile swept across my face, ‘I thought, huh, I’ll show him!’ ...

© Sean Malone, May 1992. All rights reserved. Published in ‘Pleasure Bound’ magazine by permission from the author. Karen strapped herself into the seat of the landing capsule, and prepared for touchdown. Her auburn hair lay over her shoulders, and she felt comfortable in her short white tunic, with only the briefest underwear beneath. She was highly excited at the prospect of a sexual adventure, on the most infamous and reputedly dangerous pleasure planet in the galaxy. The agency had promised her the experience of a lifetime, and hinted that the more attractive women applicants were given a high priority for the places. She had even been offered a free hypershuttle passage! She accepted with alacrity, but she was not fooled. She wondered what she would have to do to make it worth their while. Exotic images coursed through her mind. ...

You may not think me very sexually active or just a little stuck up, but sucking cock literally makes me sick. I know most females enjoy this type of oral activity, but after trying it with four or five different partners as many as five times on Sean, I just find it degrading. In addition to being a prude in this area, I really crave receiving oral sex. When a guy goes down on me, it’s heaven. That is if he does it right! Now, you probably think I am high maintenance material and would not touch me with a ten foot pole or a two inch cock. ...

Amy tried to relax as her boyfriend Mark forced his enormous cock into her vulnerable pink ass hole. Forced and vulnerable, because she really hadn’t any choice in the matter due to the way he had her bound. Amy stood bent over a metal bar set waist high between two large wooden posts. Both of her arms were pinned behind her back, hands palm to palm. Elbows forced together, touching each other inside a single sleeve arm binder. Straps pulled around her shoulders secured the arm binder preventing it from sliding down her arms. Another three straps buckled around the arm binder at her wrists, just below her elbows and above her elbows. Each was buckled as tightly as possible and the secured with a small padlock. A chain attached to the base of the arm binder was pulled almost straight upwards towards the ceiling forcing her to remain bent over the waist bar. The pain in her shoulders from being forced into such a position was like as if someone has taken a red hot poker to them. ...

(story continues from The Survey) Part Two I had no way of knowing how much time had passed, blindfolded as I was. It seemed like hours had gone by since I heard Ms Simms drive away. Suddenly, I heard a car pull into the drive. Was it her or my wife? Or, was it someone else? My imagination was driving me crazy! The door opened and someone walked in. At first there was no sound. I listened closely for a clue as to who had come in. finally, I heard a zipper open followed by a few clicks. Whoever was there had started taking pictures. The next thing I knew, the blindfold was removed and I saw Ms Simms standing in front of me with a digital camera. ...

There is nothing easier to control than a horny guy. My husband is locked in a chastity device and the only way out is our weekly clean-and-jerk sessions. Our house is an old one and there is a room in the basement which used to be the place coal was stored for the furnace. Now it is our dungeon. Hanging from the ceiling is a neck-and-wrist brace, holding the arms in a “surrender” position, To the sides are two ankle cuffs with chains running out to the wall. This is where Matt is “stored” while I take off the device, clean him up, and jerk him off. ...

The Plaza is looking for some stories, so I thought people might enjoy hearing about an event that occurred to me when I was a young woman. First, I’ll set the stage. I was living in Tucson and had had several boyfriends by this time in my life. I was reveling in the blossoming of the sensuous and erotic in my world. As my partners and I discovered the wonders of nature, I felt quite satisfied yet knew there was more beyond the basically vanilla sex life I had been exploring. I had (still have) a fertile imagination and, ever since I was quite young, had found my fantasies wandering to dark places. But without any positive role models, I felt these were unhealthy aspirations for such a liberated back-to-nature girl to have. So I kept them to myself - my little secret. ...

continued from part 1 Part 2 Now, if I could write this story, it is obvious that I could (and did) get ouf my straight-jacket self-hogtie. First, I tried to escape. It is my favorite activity, and, clearly, I had earned the right to do so. I thought that, maybe, the fact that my arms were not strapped very tightly behind my back and not threaded through the side loops would give me a chance. But that was without counting the chest strap and the pinion straps. First, I tried to see if, thanks to the slack in the sleeve straps, I could grab one of the buckles and somehow, even without seeing what I was doing, and without much feeling or dexterity thanks to the thick leather mitts that terminate my SJ’s sleeves, still manage to undo one of the buckles. If I could, it was game over, in the positive sense. But, even though the straps weren’t pulled tight at all, I couldn’t even come close. As if the SJ designer had kept this in mind when putting it together… ...

The rain was pouring down, setting everything outside in a shiny haze that reflected the gray overcast sky. Sarah came bursting through her front door, soaked from head to toe. Her gym was only a few blocks away and when she left for there the clouds seemed far less threatening. She left her umbrella home in favor of traveling light and she paid for it on the way back. In fact, all she had were the clothes on her back, scant as they were. Her white t-shirt that stopped a good few inches above her belly button was hardly working to conceal her pink sport bra underneath. Her blue shorts turned a deep navy with the drenching, despite her all out run down the street, her breasts heaving all the way, full pink beacons under her now see through top. She was pretty sure a few heads turned to take in the blur. Her feet were sloshing around in her shoes and she pressed her toes against the heels and kicked them off into the corner near the door to dry. Her bare feet were still damp and she noticed the wet foot prints she left as she turned back toward the hall mirror. She peeled her shirt and bra over her head in one good yank, and her breasts shook free, tingling from the cool air of the apartment. The wet top flew through the air just through the door of her bedroom, soon followed by the wet clingy shorts and panties; she’d get to the pile later. She was still quite wet and cold drops of water ran down her skin, leaving little puddles all over the hall. What she needed now was a hot shower and a dry towel. The damp and chill were unpleasant, and she thought about snuggling up and reading a good book on this dreary Saturday. The day was pretty much a wash since her new boyfriend, Matt, had made plans with his friends and would be gone all day. They had only been seeing each other about a month, so she felt weird about imposing on the other aspects of his life. She liked that he had close friends. Sarah’s thoughts wandered back to that sweet kiss that turned into a little more than either she or he expected and she suddenly felt a little guilty about spurning his advances the last time they were together. Right now, being trapped inside the apartment alone on a rainy day with no plans made the idea of him being here quite desirable. It would have been the perfect day to spend naked, wrapped around each other with nothing but sex to keep them busy. She imagined the two of them rolling around on couch, the bed, the floors, in at least a few rooms, and her eyes closed as her mind wandered and she started to become aroused. As she got lost in thought, her hands wandered up to her lovely 36D breasts and cupped them gently. Her hands encircled the full curves and her thumbs and forefingers drifted to her nipples, and she gave them an absent minded squeeze. The slow pressure she applied elicited the gentlest of gasps and her right hand broke away and slid down her stomach, caressing the top of her neatly trimmed pubic patch, a dark flurry of hair to match her brunette locks she let grow over the past few months to just past her shoulders. Further her hand reached and she let out a little sigh as the tip of her middle finger stroked tiny circle around her clit hood. In less than a minute, wetness developed between her thighs to rival the rain’s soaking, and her breath started to race a bit. She opened her eyes to watch herself in the mirror, examining her form from head to toe. In her excitement, without realizing, her legs had spread wider and she propped herself up on her toes. Her fingers were hungrily snipping at her nipples and her hips began to thrust back and forth slightly. “Damn,” she thought. “Why did he have to be busy today? I would have loved to see the look on his face when I answered the door like this.” The thought made her smirk and she ran a few more small circles around her clit. Her mind wandered a little more as her eyes drifted shut again and a new naughty thought popped into her head, almost involuntarily, ”I wonder what would he say if I asked him to tie me up?" The image of that moment caught her off guard and her stomach fluttered a bit, nervously, at the idea of his reaction. “I hardly know him, would he think I was crazy or sick? What would he do to me? I hardly know him…” The uncertainty of that situation made her resolve to wait until the time was right and a little more trust was developed between them. In the meantime, she was alone, with nowhere to go and no one to see on a rainy Saturday. The sight of her curvy figure in the mirror and the thoughts running through her head eliminated most options; “Time for a little dangerous fun; what better way to while away some hours than tied up and struggling?” Her butterflies kicked into high gear. She thought it might be fun to play in the living room, rolling around in the middle of open floor, trussed up tight. “Maybe I’ve been robbed…” she thought, a story swirling through her head of a heartless criminal making quick work of her property, somehow uninterested in the naked young victim he has bound helplessly to buy him some time. She is left behind, the abandoned refuse of a dark night’s work. Her hands were unknowingly kneading her nipples as the story developed and she came to from her reverie and bolted for her bedroom. Sarah hit the ground, sliding on her knees, and reached under her bed for the latest addition to her toy pile. She had recently picked up a nice 100’ coil of soft hemp rope at a hardware store and cut it into various lengths. She spent one evening after work a few weeks ago measuring the pieces and applying black electrical tape to the ends to prevent unraveling and to the center of each piece so she could quickly find the center and make a bend there without a lot of fuss. Tonight it would pay off. Sarah plunked the coils of rope on the bed and made for the dark corner of her closet. She emerged with her toy box in hand, and placed it on the bed to pick her goodies for tonight. From the box, she extracted the handcuffs, her harness gag and the cuff keys. She rifled around the box for whatever else might make the cut and her hand landed on the clover clamps. Her mind wandered back to her harrowing night in the shower, and her nearly final imprisonment, and she thought twice. “I’ll enjoy these again when someone else slips them on,” she thought. She picked up the dildo and her butt plug and considered them as well. “Would a burglar take the time to force these in her to leave here there alone? He’d more likely fill me himself," she snarked. “But maybe they’d keep me passive and busy while he turns the place over.” She debated the perverse sexual tendencies of the fictitious robber in her head and the crueler he got, the more she liked him. She wanted to linger while bound and helpless, and a vibrator would just pop the cork too soon. But the butt plug would be nice and frustrating. She bit her lower lip, and grabbing the black plug and her small bottle of lube, she placed the cuff keys on her nightstand (having to retrieve them would be all the more fun). With restraints in hand, she headed for the living room. Sarah stopped in front of the hall mirror and gave herself a quick glance. The sight of her naked form, hands clutching her tools, and the thought of her smooth skin and soft curves suffering the bite of the new ropes was enticing. She wanted to get down to business before the flip-flops in her stomach drove her to drop everything and just relieve her tension right there. She rested everything on the floor and got down onto her knees. Her hand scooped up the plug and lube and she quickly coated the black latex with the slick clear gel. Once slippery in her hands, she rested her head and shoulders on the floor, forcing her ass higher into the air. Her hands were cold and slick with lube as she probed her loins and stretched her reach until she could feel the tight pucker of her ass with the tips of her fingers. Switching her weight to her right shoulder, Sarah swung her left arm over her back and let the goo from her fingers caress the soft skin between her buttocks, making little forays in her sphincter with the tips, driving some lube within her to ease the passage. With the plug in her right hand, she met her left hand in a pain inducing stretch and started to aim the tip of the black latex into the tender opening. She could not imagine the contorted pose she was in and chuckled to herself a little at how silly she must have looked. “Nice to be alone”, she thought. The tip of the plug found its mark and with what extension she could muster, she pressed her finger tips against the flat “handle” of the plug and slowly started to pull it inside of her. Her arousal swelled as the tool invaded her and with each push, she felt herself gaping wider than she thought possible. Her eyes shut and her breath turned to little gasps as she savored the stretching sensation, her ass opening wider still under the force of the intruder. The plug reached the edge of the wide cone, almost 2 inches in diameter, and Sarah felt a little cramp in her stomach. The last bit was always the hardest and she fought to keep her seal from popping out. Keeping her left hand against the handle, she pulled her right arm out from under her and pushed herself back into an upright position, her thighs resting flat against her calves. She slowly leaned back and shifted her weight from her folded legs to her butt and could feel the handle of the plug touch the floor. Her hole quivered at the sensation of the large head within it and sent another shock of a cramp to her stomach. She was too far gone to stop now, and with a moment of courage, she dropped her weight against the plug. Her punished hole relented and the rest of the plug slid home, her sphincter clicking shut around the narrow neck, relaxing as a sensation of fullness became front and center in her mind. The cramps faded, but were replaced with the dull ache of constant pressure in her anal passage. Sarah leaned forward and propped herself back onto her hands and knees as she caught breath, which she realized she was hold during the last few seconds of the plug ordeal. As her breathing slowed and relaxed, she gave her hips a little twist. What were normally imperceptible parts of her body were now highlighted with every movement as she could feel the handle of the plug between her cheeks press snugly into its valley. She gave her ass a little slap and the gentle giggle revealed how much more sensitive she had become, a constant reminder of the tight enclosure she forced upon herself. It would be impossible to forget the tormentor hidden behind her, out of sight. And once she was done with her prep, impossible to remove. The butterflies fluttered, and she returned to the task at hand. She reached behind her head and scooped her hair, still damp and a little knotty from her workout and soaking, into a taut pony tail and slid the hair tie she had around her wrist, coiling it a few times around the base of the tail to keep her hair at bay. She grabbed the harness gag next, deciding from now on was the silenced time, and worked the large red ball between her teeth. Once in the right spot, her mouth closed slightly over the ball, making it feel like part of her anatomy. She pulled the harness over her head like a mask, pulling and adjusting the straps to sit comfortably over and across her nose, down her cheeks and under her chin. The fit was still good from the last time and the harness seemed to snap to the frame of her head. The two straps buckled securely under her pony tail and she tested the hold. Without hands freeing the straps, there was no way to dislodge the ball; her tongue and teeth giving it their best. Sarah sat up straight while still on her knees and turned to ogle the gagged girl in the lower half of the hall mirror. She loved that she was the sexy silent girl staring back at her, and her right hand gave her clit hood a little swirl while her left gave her nipple a pinch. She gave off a satisfied moan into the gag, reveling in the muffled sound. The girl in the mirror reached her arms over her head and folded them at the elbow, crossing her wrists under her pony tail in an “invisible” tie. She twisted her hips with a jerk and let her tits jiggle, slowly swaying to a stop, voluptuous in their fullness and curves. Her nipples stiffened and her hands dropped down unbidden to give them a generous pinch. “God, gagged mirror girl looks fucking hot”, Sarah thought to herself, suddenly a little embarrassed at her own smugness, “but she needs something else.” Without looking, she reached over to the pile of neatly prepped rope coils and plucked the top one off. Her hands slid along the length of the rope until she found the center marker, and folded the rope in half there, forming a bend, and let the rest drop to the floor. She grabbed the doubled rope under the bend with both hands and slowly slid them apart, forming a length of two cords while keeping them taut. She brought both hands behind her and passed the ends of the rope through the bend, taking up the slack and sliding the new belt around her waist to center the bend behind her. This rope burned a little more than she expected as it slid over her soft flesh versus the old cord she normally used, and the jury was out as to whether it was better or worse. Maintaining good tension, she pulled the ends of the rope down hard, letting the coil pull tight against itself and her. She passed the ends from one hand to the other between her legs and up and under the front of the belt. She pulled out the slack to let the new truss press firmly against the pink delicate flesh of her pussy and the solid unmoving latex of the plug. With two fingers, she parted her labia slightly and the two cords slipped firmly into their embrace. With a final hard tug down on the front of the waist belt, the ropes bit into her tender skin, and pressed the plug even harder into her, though she swore it couldn’t possibly go any deeper. The tight, sealed sensation she was feeling in her ass just moments ago jumped to a new scale, and she arched her back as if to pull away from the relentless insertion. Sarah’s imagination took over as the force mounted, and her mind’s eye could see the masked robber behind her, pulling on her crotch rope mercilessly while worrying the plug deeper into her ass. The assembly was tight, almost painful, and with no relief to be had, she submitted to the ropes and her anal seal. Her hands split the ends and ran the ropes several times around the crotch line, creating a braided effect down the front of her mound. With about six inches left in each hand, she tied the ends into a strict granny knot right above her clit hood. She started to sit down on her haunches to take a little break, but the move made the ropes dig even tighter as she leaned into her crotch harness. She bolted back upright on her knees with a start, coming to full attention as the cords burned against her skin. She realized the trouble she was in for and got to work before her resolve ebbed. Sarah pivoted on her knees and returned to the mirror with the attractive woman, now sporting a painfully tight looking crotch rope in addition to her gag. The woman cupped her full breasts and gave them a squeeze. Sarah’s breasts responded, feeling soft and delicate. Her nipples softened a little, and she returned them to attention with swirls of her fingers around the aureole. The skin wrinkled and her pert tips came back to life. She gave them a firm pinch and leaned her head back to enjoy the ache. Her hand fell on to the pile of rope and plucked another loop from the collection. As with the crotch rope, the found the center and bent a loop into the cord to double it over. Her hands met behind her back and passed the loose ends through the bend and pulled the slack tight, making a constricting pair of cords that formed an alluring border under her breasts. Each new application of rope was a fresh experience as the snug coil seemed to light her skin afire as it slid around to center the knot in the middle of her back. The ends were brought together and passed around her body in the other direction, tension kept at a maximum, until they came again to the loops behind her and were pulled through to finish the top half of the rope frame around her tits. Pulled tight, the pair was separated, each cord run over her shoulders and brought together again to run under the pairs of ropes crossing her upper torso. Keeping the rigging taut with one hand, she wrapped the rope twice more around cord pairs, forming a cinch between her breasts and pulled the whole thing snugly. The cinch pulled the upper and lower ropes together, forming a tight constriction around her sensuous orbs that made them bulge and go taut. Her tits were full and engorged as she ran the separate ends once more around the back of her neck and tied them with a nasty square knot. The last tie behind her neck forced the tight ligatures to give her breasts some support and lift. Her tits thrust out before her, full and solid, a twist of her hips giving them just the slightest jiggle that the ropes quickly brought under control. She ran her hands over her costume and studied the effect in the mirror, the ropes encasing her soft skin and delicate features. Her bondage bikini was complete, an assembly of unforgiving cord that felt like she was at least dressed in something skimpy, yet revealed everything; surely the sadistic vision of her captor. She stood up and glared at the slowly evolving victim in the mirror, catching herself about a half a dozen times as the rope reminded her repeatedly, above and below, of how constricted she already was, and yet she could still walk about and do whatever she wanted with her hands as if she was clad simply in underwear. This would have to be addressed right away. “Time to get this little bitch under control”, she thought. Sarah slipped her hand under the front of the crotch rope and gave it a hard yank. The tight rigging snapped back to position as the plug in her ass forced a gasp from her that couldn’t quite escape her throat. It was a brutal reminder of who was in charge and the robber appeared behind her again, arm around her body, hand under the belt. He gave it another yank, “Get down on your hands and knees, slut.” A series of short whimpers slipped past the gag as Sarah felt compelled to get down on all fours, the ropes biting her and the non-stop pressure of the plug cowing her into submission. She got down on the floor and crawled as bidden by her invisible tormentor into the center of her living room, ropes and cuffs in tow. The polished hardwood floors offered little comfort in her position and there was nothing to hide behind in the center of the room. Her bound body was exposed; ass in the air, sealed shut with the black plug, her full breasts hanging and swaying indecently as she made her crawl. The light here was different than the hallway she started in and Sarah realized her window blinds were open. She thought for just a moment about closing them, but the heavy rain outside created a shimmering sheet over the glass that blurred the world. “Why not suffer for someone else’s pleasure?”, she thought. She was pretty sure no one could see in, but maybe someone would get lucky. The thought of being spied on while tied up set her arousal level up another notch and she remained on her hands and knees in the middle of the room for a few minutes, silently waiting for her next orders, thinking about her predicament. She was already humiliated and aching, how much more could she take? The ropes, gag and plug were working almost too well and Sarah was off in dreamland, her submission to the fictitious robber nearly already total. The damp gray day was creeping into her shadowy apartment and her skin tingled with little drafts from the exposed windows. She came down from her cloud and realized she was only half done. Like an obedient victim who knew her options were limited, she swung around from her kneeling position and tentatively on her left buttock, slowly rolling into a sitting position, allowing the full weight of her body to press the plug into a constant state of maddening pressure. Her anus was screaming for relief but it was not to be. She sat silently in the middle of the room as her forced probe worked it relentless magic, the slow draw of her breaths through her nose the only sound she could perceive beyond the constant spattering of rain on the windows. She gave her nipples a nice pinch to keep the blood flowing and try to distract from the ache of the plug, but nothing could quite overwhelm the filling sensation. Her captor was quite clever to do this to her. Sarah still had a victim to finish tying; she slid her feet together and drew her feet closer, pulling her knees toward her chest. This placed nearly all of her weight on the black seal aching in its inglorious task, and she found herself questioning her methods, but only for a moment. She reached over to the pile of ropes remaining and grabbed the next coil. Doubling the ropes to form a bend, she wrapped the woven cords around her ankles, holding the bend off to the side and coiling the pair firmly around her limbs, taking care to leave about a hand’s thickness between. She made three circuits, and then pulled the ends through the bend, centered between her feet, allowing her to change the wrapping direction. She ran the loose ends around the taut coils twice, pulling the rigging into a nice cinch that took up all of the slack. The ache she felt in her ass was more than worth the sensation she experienced as the ropes pulled tight, securing her strong legs. The ropes constricting her ankles were a frame for her shapely bare feet, accentuating the delicate curves of her soles and arches; her long slender toes, dressed in her favorite clear polish, reflecting what little light was coming in and she took a moment to admire them and her work. She lamented, for a moment, the lack of barefoot opportunities day to day in the city. Even today, with its torrent washing away the grime, the oily rainbow puddles were probably not fit for naked skin. Several coils of unused rope still lay next to her and she grabbed the next one and performed her ankle binding ritual, in kind, right below her knees, taking care to run the loops deep into her knee pits. The cinch between her knees pulled everything tight and caused the ropes to form like a cuff around her upper calves, adding more frame to her curvy legs. Her lower body was quite immobile, but she wasn’t quite done yet. Another skein of rope from the pile coiled like a snake around her mid thighs. With the rest of her legs already welded shut, pulling the cinches through was more work, but the pull compressed the loops and tight straps formed around her thighs. Sarah sat upright and stretched her legs out in front of her, admiring her sexy limbs as a new single unit. The bondage changed her position a bit and the plug continued to harry her. She gave her work a few tests as she twisted and strained from her groin to separate her legs, of course to no avail. Her robber, lurking in the back of her mind, always just out of sight, admired his handiwork. A few coils of rope still remained and she stared at them, ruminating about where they might be added. She grabbed another coil and performed her doubled-over wrap around her stomach, leaving the coils rather slack. She snatched up her handcuffs and slid the bracelets up under the crotch belt behind her back, the chain straddling the tight “Y” shape that emerged from her ass. The cuffs slapped down on her cheeks as she let go, hanging patiently for her arrival. She grabbed control of the loose coils around her stomach and slid her arms down into the wrapping. Her left arm was fairly easy, but she gave herself not quite enough slack to force her right arm in. With a few grunts and twists, the belly rope soon contained both of her arms, pressing them snugly to her sides. Sarah was rather impressed, thinking she couldn’t have tied that better if she measured it. With a little rubbing and burning, she brought her arms a little closer together behind her back and scooped the cuffs up into her hands. Here she was alone, naked, the outside world a distant memory as she faced her assailant, the masked sadist who prepped her stay in helpless isolation to aid his escape with her precious belongings. His business was the anonymous exchange of others peoples’ property, and business was good. He wasn’t going to leave his calling card for the police to find and lose such a sweet gig by ravaging his unfortunate victim, the single young woman who came home just a few minutes too early. For fear of her safety, Sarah acquiesced to his demands and allowed herself to be tied and left alone so long as he left quickly. The turns of his rope rigging now dug into her tender flesh, the gag kept her silent and compliant. But the plug, that was his cruelest idea, and it was working like a charm. With little finesse, he forced this intruder inside of her, held in place by the seemingly rigid crotch rope that grew damper and more irritating with her every breath. The wicked plug seemed to continuously expand and fill her and the indignity of the sensation was just what he needed to keep her motionless and submissive on the floor while he finished his task. With all the knots and buckles in order, he brusquely slipped her wrists into the steel cuffs and snapped them shut, the ever tightening ratchets breaking the wordless silence of the dark room. Sarah wondered for a moment if he even kept the keys to these chains, and as they formed to her wrists, he added a little insult to her situation by clicking in the double-lock buttons. He pushed against her shoulder and she fell onto her arms folded behind her back, prostrate in a long, lithe pose; a single-limbed creature spread across the hard wood. As she lay back, the robber disappeared out of the periphery of her vision and she was again alone, staring at the white ceiling. She tugged on the cuffs now circling her wrists, and the angry response returned by the plug immediately told her to behave. She curled her legs a bit and leaned to one side to ease the quickly building discomfort in her arms. She couldn’t imagine how she was going get free, and her mind swirled with the idea of being trapped like this for a long time. Maybe she could crawl her way to the kitchen and find a knife to cut the ropes, if only she could reach the drawers. Where was her scissors? She writhed and twisted her limbs in the snug coils, relishing the sense of immobilization she had created. Her robber was quite efficient; she was sure he was a practiced hand at this, and the thought of naked women helplessly bound and abandoned in apartments across the city made her tingle. What kind of devil could avoid such temptation? Sarah managed to roll over onto her side, and then her stomach, but every move pulled at some ligature somewhere, and once on her stomach, her full bulging breasts spread out awkwardly under her. The compression made her breasts bondage dig in hard and it ached after just a minute or so. Trying to find a little comfort in her suffering, she arched her back and raised her butt into the air. All this did was put more pressure on her poor breasts and make every inch of the crotch rope dig even more, if that was even possible at this point. She stretched her legs and toes out and arched her back backwards, lifting her upper body and her roped tits off the ground for a few seconds, but this was unsustainable and she let herself flop back down, a grunt slipping out of her throat. As she landed, she could see and feel the beads of drool forming at the corners of her mouth trickle out and start to pool on the floor under her face. She didn’t want to get it all over her, and the effort to keep her head tipped back was more than she could bear after a minute. With what little movement she had in her arms, she attempted to create a little momentum and roll over onto her other side, each little sway of her arms yanking her already sore wrists, which then dug her crotch rope deeper into her pussy and against the silent menace swelling in her ass. Grunts and drool erupted from around the gag and the floor under her head became a slick little trail she tried to avoid. After a good deal of twisting, writhing and yanking on all of the worst places, Sarah managed to roll herself back over, bracing herself as best she could with what little elbow movement she had to lower herself onto her back. She found she could flatten her hands and rest fairly comfortably on the cuffs without them digging into her back too much. She let her legs stretch out, pointing her toes to try and ease a little of the ache out of them like a cat. She relaxed her shoulders and let her head touch the floor. Her breathing slowed and she found herself slipping into a calm relaxed state of mind. Her struggling had fatigued her some and now that she just accepted her situation, she found herself appreciating it more each minute. Her limbs relaxed and she could feel the ropes working against her, keeping everything in the tidy little package she put herself in, doing the work of immobilizing her instead of her fighting against the tethers. A satisfying warm tingle washed over her, not an orgasm, just a happy sense that everything was as it should be. Sarah turned her head to the left and drool oozed from the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t care. “Oh god, why can’t I just stay like this all the time?” she thought. Except for the silent rise and fall of her stomach, Sarah lay quite motionless for a while and time began to stretch and dilate. The rain continued to pelt the windows, as hard it seemed as when she first got home. Though her eyes had slowly adjusted since she began, the gray bleak day had become cloaked night and the single street light outside cast angled shapes of light and shadow through the living room, undulating through the sheets of water. A chill settled on the room, but her tight cocoon continued to arouse her, and the warm flush in her skin overcame her exposure. Relaxed and cozy in her bondage blanket, she drifted off for a bit. She awoke sometime later from restless dreams, the room even darker than before and for just a brief moment, she forgot her situation. ...

Part 1 I have just had a week-end like no other. I have just had a life-changing experience. I have just found myself – I hope: and maybe someone special, as well My name is Andrew, Andrew Welch. I’m a childless widower, aged 39. I live alone, in the house that Jenny and I had hoped to make our first home. Where? That doesn’t matter, but it’s in England, on a small development about two miles from the city where I work. ...

continued from part 1 Part 2 I tapped on her door at seven sharp, and she opened it as though she’d been waiting for me. She reached out her hands to me, and drew me inside, and kissed me again, properly on the lips this time, and said, “Welcome to my lair”. She had let her hair down, and was wearing a shimmering silver-ish kaftan, which, I realised in short order, was made of latex. She led me, her kaftan swishing, to her living room, and indicated a chair. “Won’t be a minute” she said, and went out to the kitchen. I heard a pop, and she came in again with two glasses of champagne. ...

Anna woke and glanced over to her clock. “Mon 07:06” the glowing red lights said. She then glanced down from the clock back along the line of the bed and saw the suitcase on the floor. She closed her eyes for a few more minutes and smiled to herself. Holiday. She’d been looking forward to this for a while, and she was going to savour every possible moment. The next time she looked at the clock it said “Mon 07:40” ...

continued from part 3 Part 4: Caught in Her Web Yes, she was going to get him fixed up real good for bed! And she had. He’d drunk the Gatorade, taken care of his bathroom business, showered, drunk more water with vitamins, and more Gatorade to replenish and re-hydrate after the incredible 21-hour chair mummification ordeal. Wife-Mistress had informed him he was on a liquid diet regimen for the duration of the ultimate bondage marathon weekend she had planned, so he was duly diapered, with extra-absorbency pads also stuffed in. ...