It’s October. The air is crisp and cool, perfect for a dumpster explorer like me. It’s about 11pm on a Sunday night, and my trashy journey begins. I lock my front door behind me and step out into the night air in my old doc martens, some grubby old cargo pants and a retro-styled t-shirt with Oscar the Grouch on the front. It’s trash night, and the streets in my neighborhood are lined with garbage cans, overflowing with black and white garbage bags, some spilling their contents onto the street… cups and papers blowing in the night breeze. I sniff the air to see if I can catch a whiff of all that lovely garbage… not close enough, so I walk down the street for a closer look. One particularly lovely looking pile of white bags catches my eye. I walk to it and begin feeling the bags. They are heavy with kitchen waste, my all time favorite. Looking closely, I can see the stuff inside, looks like old salad and macaroni, mixed with used napkins and paper plates, a can or two, plastic bags… you know, your run on the mill garbage. I like these bags, so I heave a few out of their cans and place them closer to the curb for “pickup”. ...

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. If you are under 18, please stop reading now and go read something more appropriate for your age. I take no responsibility to your reactions in this - consider yourself warned. As a garbage woman, my friends would ask me to take items I normally wasn’t allowed - furniture, appliances, and other things that the city would charge a small fee to pick up with a special truck. I didn’t really mind it, and no one really cared but the bean counters - garbage is garbage, and it all went to the same place. I had a friend who was getting frustrated with her 19 year old daughter on a daily basis, to the point where she just wanted her out of her life. The girl wouldn’t move out, and wouldn’t find a job. My friend wanted to teach her kid a lesson she wouldn’t forget. The day before my weekly pickup, I arrived at my friend’s house in full sanitation gear - baggy blue jumpsuit, orange and green high-vis vest, work boots, baseball cap, and several heavy duty 55 gallon black garbage bags hanging out of the back pocket. I looked quite intimidating, especially since it was uncommon in our area to have a female sanitation worker. She invited me in and we had coffee in the kitchen, waiting for her kid to get home. We went over the plan one more time, hashing out the details, as well as me warning her about the dangers of what we were going to do. As we finished, the kid arrived. At only around 5'8" and thin as a rail, she’d not pose too much of a problem for me in the morning. “Ally, I’d like you to meet my friend, Tabitha. She works for the city as a sanitation worker.” My friend said. Her kid just gave me a dirty look and turned around to go to her room. “Wait a minute there, young lady.” Ally turned around and walked over to us. “Since your being so difficult with me lately, refusing to leave, and refusing to find a job, we need to figure out what to do with you. Can’t have you costing me money each month, considering your not a child anymore.” In a classic teenage behavior, she rolled her eyes and tried to walk away. Her mother grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. I stood up, and stared down at the girl. At 6 foot tall, I towered over her. “I’ll be doing the truck alone tomorrow, so leave her next to the bins and put a bag or two on top of her to keep people from seeing.” I took the bags out of my back pocket and tossed them on the table. “Use these, triple bag. Its general garbage day, so there won’t be an issue taking a few extra bags.” Ally just stood there looking mortified. “Mom, what is she talking about?” “Oh don’t worry sweetie. Tabitha, thanks for your help. I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” “Of course. Have a good evening.” I smiled and walked out the front door, not waiting around to hear the resulting argument. I could just imagine the discussion that was about to take place. The next morning, I got ready like I do every day. As usual, I had the truck to myself again. City cutbacks had forced the city to lay off some of the workers - I had only survived because I was a minority. An hour into my route, I had finished the bulk of my pickup already, and had some spare time when I pulled up to my friend’s house. As we discussed, there were two cans of garbage, plus a pile of 4 or so green garbage bags. I could see a black bag peeking out from under the pile. I began tossing the green bags into the back of my rear loading garbage truck. As I grabbed the third and fourth bag, I saw my special sack of garbage laying on her side, head poking through the top of the bag, with it tied around her neck. She was gagged and looked scared out of her mind. I smiled at her then tossed the two green bags into the truck. Coming back for Ally, I grabbed the draw strings and dragged her across the ground and over to the truck. She shook her head wildly as I bent down and looked her in the eyes. “You fit well in that bag, little garbage girl. Your mom wanted to get rid of the worthless garbage around the house. Looks like she thought you fit the description pretty well.” She mumbled a bit, then tried to shake herself out of her bindings. I just reached down and grabbed the bag from the bottom. She wasn’t all that light, but she also wasn’t the heaviest piece of trash I had to lift into the hopper. With a push, I sent her over the lip of the hopper and headfirst into the bed of the truck. I dumped the other bins of garbage on top of her, then sat on the lip of the hopper. “So, how about I make you a deal.” I smiled down at her. “If your mother comes out in the next…” I checked my watch. “5 minutes to rescue you, I’ll be more then happy to free you and let you go on with life. In the meantime, let me set the packer.” I reached around the side of the truck and gave a quick jerk to the lever. The blade swept up and over the top of the hopper and waited for the next pull. I could hear the girl scream through her gag. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first odd thing I’ve hauled to the incinerator. I get all sorts of things, like clothing, toys, grills… You name it, I’ve crushed it in this truck. If your lucky, you’ll miss the blade and be swept back into the truck with the rest of today’s haul. You’ll probably be alive when I dump you into the conveyer that takes the garbage to the shredder. Don’t take it personally, it’s my job to pick up garbage.” I looked at my watch again. “Two minutes baby.” I reached around and pulled the lever again. The blade came down further, about halfway down the hopper. One more pull and there would be no turning back. As far as I was told, if her mother didn’t come out and stop me, I was to complete the cycle. I reached down into the hopper and brushed some garbage out of the girl’s face. I hopped off the lip of the hopper and faced the back of the truck. My watched beeped twice. “Sorry little one, you know the deal. Obviously, your mother doesn’t feel you need to be salvaged. Keep your head back and you shouldn’t have a problem avoiding the blade.” I reached around and pulled the lever again, and the truck began its packing cycle. The blade slowly descended. I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. I flipped around and was looking at my friend. “Sorry, I was in the shower. You can let her out now, I think she learned her lesson.” She noticed her kid’s head in the hopper, as both her and the garbage disappeared under the packer blade. She covered her mouth in shock and stammered for a moment. “I can’t stop it. The packer cycle is completing. You shouldn’t have waited this long if you didn’t want me to follow through.” “Shit, shit, shit! I didn’t want this to go all the way through!” She watched with me as the blade pushed back up into its resting position, shoving the garbage that was in the hopper into the container. “She’s garbage now. I could possibly snag her off the conveyer at the disposal station, but it will be a few hours.” I said as I wiped sweat off my forehead. “No… There’s too much risk for you to do that…” She leaned up against the truck and sighed. “I’ll say she ran away. If you can wait a few minutes more, I’ll run upstairs and get some of her clothes and other items, so it looks right.” “Sure, hurry up though, I don’t want to be late on the route.” I tossed a bag from my back pocket to her and she ran inside. Several minutes later, she came running back outside, carrying a bag of items from her daughter’s room. She threw the bag into the hopper and smiled at me. “Thank you, regardless for this. I know I messed up, but hopefully you aren’t angry at me…” “Garbage is garbage. I’m just doing my job.” I gave her a hug, then ran back to the front of my truck. First time for everything, I thought to myself. ...

“Please mistress, please, no, not today, I can’t face a walk, not today” I was pleading, but I knew it wouldn’t do me any good. Mistress has made up her mind, and once made up, there is very little that will change it. Least of all the pleadings of her poor naked slave. “Oh come come my dear” she purred “You know how you so love the fresh air, and Bruno will so be looking forwards to seeing you, won’t he ?” ...

Nina stood outside the fetish shop gazing at the latex wear with glazed-over eyes. Just the thought of wearing the latex clothing she saw made her wet with anticipation. Unfortunately the price of such things was clearly out of her ability to afford at this time. Nina sighed “The only thing better than wearing latex would be to be made of it.” she thought to herself. The shop owner put down the phone with a frown on her delicate Asian features. Lucy was beside herself as her best customer had ordered something which she didn’t have in stock and she didn’t want to disappoint him. She was still pondering what to do when she saw Nina standing in front of the store window with the cutest expression on her very lovely face. ...

It is bonus check time at work so I get to buy extra toys this month. It stinks being on a limited budget but with this extra money I’ll be able to buy this new slick looking Latex-Rubber hybrid suit that I have been eying. It’s a full body suit with an open face. The crotch area is made to look exactly like a female. My dick would have to go into a pouch and condom like tube and my dick would end up pointing up and be flat against my stomach. There is also a tube that acts like an external catheter where if I peed the pee would come out the pussy on the suit. The back part of the suit has a hole and special rubber that goes into the anus allowing for pooping while wearing the suit. ...

Note: Based on a short story found on the net. As I arrive at her house she is ready and waiting for me, as I am 15min late. She points to a kitchen chair placed in the hallway and orders me to “Strip.” I quickly get out of my clothes and place them neatly in a pile on the chair. I get down on all fours and crawl as quickly as I can from the hallway down into her kitchen. ...

“Roberta” checked her makeup in the rear view mirror of her car, and quelled her nervousness. She had corresponded with “Frankly2B” for awhile. He was fascinated by the idea of tying up women, but hadn’t found anyone who shared his passion. He and Roberta had corresponded, played some on-line roleplaying games, and finally, after many entreaties on his part, she had agreed to meet. Now she sat in her car in an otherwise empty parking lot, looking at a car that had just blinked its lights in the prearranged signal. This was it. She was about to spend the evening as a man’s captive. She opened her door, swung her legs out, and, high heels clicking, walked to the other car. ...

My name is Laura. The Technician is a friend of mine who makes some of the equipment I use - for a price. The price is that I have to tell him everything that happens. Actually, knowing that I will be writing it all down for him has always been part of the thrill. When I write it down, it is almost like reliving it, and then when he posts my story on the net I can reread it knowing that hundreds, if not thousands of people all over the world are reading it with me. When I am alone in the woods or in the basement of some old building or even out on a stretch of abandoned railroad track, knowing that all those people will eventually read all about it is almost like having every one of them there with me watching my nude and bound body. ...

Friday evening finally arrived and Sarah couldn’t wait to slough off the stresses of the long week behind her. She looked forward to the first quiet evening alone in weeks; her friends were cast to the four winds with obligations of their own, as well as her parents, enjoying the first day of their vacation. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in some months and was getting accustomed to her sexual liberty, which is why tonight sounded like such a good idea for a little naughty play time. After a quick trip to the bathroom, Sarah peeled off her clothes and enjoyed those first seconds when her naked skin seemed to breathe easier, unconstrained by the elastic and wire of her undergarments. Her clothes lay in an unceremonious heap in front of the hamper and she ran her hands over 36D breasts and hips as if clearing away the last vestiges of the office. She wondered for a moment what her office mates would think if they saw her do what she was planning to do to herself in the next few minutes. Her stomach did a little somersault as the thought freaked her out and aroused her at the same time. Maybe she had been alone too long. Sarah decided it would prudent to make a quick circuit of her apartment and check the curtains and door locks, and of course the stove, even though she hadn’t cooked all day. It made her feel better to check. As she made her inspection, the sound of her bare feet padding along the hard wood floors echoed in her ears, raising her arousal level a touch. She despised shoes and only wore them because everyone else in the world didn’t have the common decency to just simply carpet everything. Oh well, one day they’ll all get it. She always tried to wear as little shoe as possible and would go to work in her thinnest flip-flops if she could. How else could she show off her shapely feet with the fresh pedicure, the new clear polish shining at the tips of her toes? No matter, though, as her impending imprisonment would soon deny her the comfort of clothes, let alone shoes. Tonight, Sarah decided, she would be naked, as a proper prisoner really should be. What jailer would offer criminals such pleasures as covering while enduring confinement? Surely she would not be spared. The thought got her off track and she rested a hand on the wall while she regained her balance, a little flush ran through her. If she didn’t want to pop her cork before play time, she had to get back to business. As she closed the last curtain, she caught a glimpse of pale skin in the hall mirror. Shoulder length dark, cropped hair caressed the top of her shoulders and hazel eyes glared back at her momentarily. Then her gaze dropped to take in the details of the full, supple breasts she viewed in the mirror. She looked at them as if perhaps she had stolen a glance at some other woman’s breasts and admired them lustily. She reached her arms over head and crossed her wrists behind her head, and with a sultry move, gave her hips a little twist. The movement of her body gave her gorgeous soft tits a little sway from side to side and she felt enraptured by their movements as if they had decided to try and tease her on their own. She didn’t know whether to thank Heaven, genetics or perhaps some eros-driven, lightning throwing, shadowy immortal who blessed her only to later pluck her and take her at his whim, but she had quite a voluptuous figure. Again the idea of her plans came front and center into her mind, and she fought off the butterflies. Whatever the source of her curves, she was going to punish her body for being so sexy. She took one more quick glance at her breasts, her nipples starting the harden, thinking she had special plans for those beauties. She took hard, fast steps back to the bedroom, throwing her hips to and fro, making her tits dance and bounce in all directions. She scooped up the luscious orbs in her hands and kneaded them between her fingers, wresting them under control. Her mind again envisioned the jailer, a medieval man-at-arms with crags and wrinkles in his face and rough hewn hands squeezing them mercilessly. She was to be imprisoned, and properly restrained to punish her for her crimes. From the deep, black corner of the closet came her private toy chest, a vault of naughty delights she enjoyed when the time was right. Her bondage would be simple, but restrictive, and if she wanted to escape, she would have to endure a self-imposed torture. Without a moments hesitation, the silver Fury leg shackles with the 12" chain came out of the box and were instinctively snapped around both of her delicate ankles. In fact, it was only after the second bracelet had ratcheted shut as tightly as it would go did Sarah even consider where the keys were. After a quick rummage, she plucked them from the bottom of the box and placed them on the nightstand, easy to pick up, for now, she thought. She admired her shackled feet in the cold steel, alternately pointing her toes in a hard arch and then throwing her legs as wide as she could to relish the feeling of the chain snapping her legs at a hard 12 inches. She wondered to herself why didn’t she wear these more often? Around the house, while watching TV or cleaning? Note to self for later; keep the shackles handy. After the initial rush of the ankle bondage started to wear off, she plucked a neatly wound coil of thin rope from the box. As Sarah unwound the loops, the ends of the rope made a satisfying thud against the floor. Once fully unraveled, she double the rope over evenly, making sure the ends stayed an equal length. When she was left with a small loop in her hand and a new jumble of rope at her feet, she wrapped the doubled rope around the top of her chest, pulling the long ends through the bend, twisting the loop around her body and cinching the rope until two tight cords of rope encircled her chest just above her breasts and the two long ends pulled against the bend behind her back. Keep the tension strong, she wrapped the rope in the opposite direction, running the ends through the new loop in the middle of her back and taking up the slack until two tight cords bit slightly into her skin under her breasts. Her breathing accentuated the grip of the rope-work, and she used this a gauge to keep the tightness even while she threaded the remainder of the long ends through the solid loops in the middle of her back and brought the long ends to the back of her head where she split them, one over each shoulder, and then brought them back together as she ran them under the two pairs of taught rope compressing her chest. Carefully keeping the tension, she wrapped the long ends around the two pairs and when she made one full wrap around them, Sarah pulled the rope tight. The high and low rope came together between her tits in a firm cinch that quickly made her breasts compress where they met her chest and engorge. Her tits were suddenly very full feeling and the skin pulled tight. Her nipples showed their approval. Soon enough my lovelies, she thought. The jailer was feeling particularly cruel tonight. Sarah wrapped the end of the rope a few more times around the middle of the cinch and brought the separate ends over her shoulders and around the back of her neck. She tied the ends in a simple knot and pulled, keeping the tension. Her breasts heaved up and she applied a simple bow to keep them in place. Some of her more expensive bras didn’t give the the lift and separation this simple rig did. Hmmm… how would it look under a shirt? Later, she thought. The jailer felt a crotch rope was in order. Why not watch the prisoner squirm? Sarah wondered if a dildo or one of her little vibrators would be appropriate. No, again no such pleasure for this slut. She’s probably in prison for prostitution, or adultery, why give her any satisfaction? Another coil of thin rope was taken from the box, and like the breast rope started with a doubled length of cord wrapped around her waist and threaded through the bend. The rope burned a little as she pulled it tighter and tighter while centering the bend over the top of her ass. She didn’t get to see as much of her ass as her sexy twins, but she admired its fullness just the same and gave herself a firm whack on the right buttock. She was rewarded with a tasty little delayed sting in her cheek and the pleasure of a titillating jiggle that gave her pussy just a little play. No more of that if I want to get this going, she thought. Again keeping the tension with one hand against the bend in the rope, she reach between her legs and snagged the two dangling ends with two fingers. Once in hand, she pulled the two ends up and under the pair of tight cords just above her mound and took up the slack. She gave each butt cheek a little adjustment to let the rope slide right up into the crack of her ass. With a little more pulling, she could feel rough hemp twine she was using slip in between her pussy lips. Her pussy moistened just a little against the dry rope and it felt as if her labia were gripping the rope themselves. With another tug to give everything a frustrating tightness, she pulled down on the ends of the rope in front of her, pulling her sinister belt into an alluring V-shape, like a bikini. Every little movement was reminder not to move. Catching her breath, Sarah sent the two long ends of the rope back between her legs and scooped them up behind her. Keeping the tightness at cruel levels, she passed the two ends of the rope, one to each hand, around the back of her legs, just under her buttocks and wrapped the single lengths around the tops of her thighs, creating tight loops that gave her ass the same bulging taught sensation as her breasts. Sarah only wrapped the rope once to let the cord bite into her. Pulling the ends tight, she wrapped the ends around to the front and tied the remainder of the ends into a tight knot joining the intersection of her rope bikini. The ends hung down and brushed against her thighs, almost annoying. Good. An involuntary little gasp erupted from Sarah’s throat and it actually startled her a bit. Time to fix that, she thought. Another reach into the box produced a web of thin leather straps with a red rubber ball secured amongst them. As if ordered, Sarah slipped the ball between her lips and forced it between her teeth. As her jaw relaxed into position, she felt how her mouth closed very little and the ball filled the gape of jaw quite tightly. The straps were pulled over her hair and she laughed a little to herself as she realized how the head harness was already well fitted from her last foray. She buckled the strap at the back of her head and pulled the chin straps a notch tighter. The ball suddenly felt as much a part of her head as her tongue or her nose, over which a tight strap met with a single ring that pulled another strap tightly down on her head. She groaned into the gag, as if ordering it to leave, but little more that a grunt at the back of her throat could be heard. And by whom? The gag remained, unrelenting, and no one else would hear her cries. A pair of Fury handcuffs emerged from the box, a matched set to the restraints clinking on her ankles, and Sarah carefully hung them around the intersection the crotch rope made over her ass. The cuffs were pulled up under her waist rope and on either side of the rope emerging from her ass, placed so they could not be pulled one way or the other (unless she wanted cut herself in half. The rope felt like it was half way there already). She sidled her hips from side to side, the crotch rope digging and stroking with each twist. Her breasts shimmied very little this time as the rope that enveloped them pulled them tight and immobile. Her chained feet took tentative steps, each one accompanied by the bite of rope and a tingle of excitement. The handcuffs hanging on her ass bounced and jingled with a little slap with each step she took. The two final items she plucked from the box were a small Velcro cable strap with a plastic loop and a favorite little jewel that she had forsaken for quite some time. Sarah had experimented with and enjoyed, to varying degrees, all sorts of nipple clamps. But hands down, the clover clamps were her favorite. And tonight she would reintroduce herself to them in grand style. They were to be the centerpiece of her bondage, the linchpin from which, if she could not escape, she would be helpless for a long time. She had, during previous self-imposed predicaments, fastened her limbs to various immovable, ensnaring anchor points. But tonight, the jailer was feeling particularly clever and sadistic. She stepped slowly into her bathroom, the final stretch toward her prison. She caught a sudden glance of herself in the mirror. Not at once did she think this silly or dangerous. She felt incredibly aroused, and every curve she relished earlier in the hallway mirror was infinitely more sexy wrapped in tight rope or ringed with metal shackles. Sarah’s heart and stomach were in full flutter, and the bathroom mirror got a full show as she gave all of her trussing a good test to see how well it was enveloping her soft delicate flesh. Her tits barely moved and her crotch rope seemed to find new uncharted depths. The whole rig was maddening, and all Sarah wanted to do was reach under the crotch rope and break the tension, but alas it was too late. Her sentenced had been handed down, the jailer had prepped her incarceration and no governor was calling to grant her a stay of “execution.” She turned and faced her cell, the slim unimposing shower stall that had greeted her first thing every morning. For all the showers she had taken in there, she could never full understand what the little bar embedded in the shower wall was for. Chest height, only an inch or so of clearance from the wall. It was convenient to hang onto for balance occasionally and before she switched to a bath sponge, was suitable for her washcloth. The frosted glass door was a nice touch, and it always closed with a satisfying click. Tonight, that would be the sound of her cage door. Sarah stepped over the threshold of the shower door, and her feet immediately found the cold remnants of her wash this morning. Little puddles all over the floor made her prison that much less inviting (or more?) and the chain of her shackles clacked loudly against the hard plastic of the stall floor. The sound was a constant reminder of her restraints, and the thought that others outside of her cell might hear the noise unsettled her. Again, no matter, there was nothing she could do about it. And what if a fellow apartment dweller came to investigate the sound? What would they find? Sarah suddenly wished she knew her neighbors a little better. The door closed behind her with that satisfying click, as if the door seal that kept water from leaking out of the shower was also sealing her in. Her breath was long and heavy through her nose and the tight coils around her chest continued to constrict. Sarah took the short Velcro cable strap and caught the chain of the clamps within it and then wrapped it around the short bar embedded in the stall wall. The strap ran through the plastic loop on one end and then doubled over on itself to form a strong, tight ring around the bar. She gave the clamps a firm tug and realized how strong Velcro was, the strap did not move. Taking a moment to work a little courage, Sarah centered the the clamps between the strap. With a trembling hand, she leaned in close to the wall and slipped her right nipple between the open jaw of the clamp. She gently released the mechanism and the clamp went from closing around her nipple to squeezing to trying to make the two halves of the jaw touch. God these things are tight, she thought. She made quick work of her left nipple before she chickened out, and with a gentle hand, gave both short chains a quick pull to seal the deal. The clamps dug in and the direct connection she imagined she had from her nipples to her clit kicked in. A dampness was definitely forming between her legs, and a raw sensation against the crotch rope was quickly becoming noticeable. The rush of the pressure on her delicate tips forced a gasp in her throat, and she put her hands against the wall to steady herself. A few tears ran from her eyes as the sexy rush became the sharp ache she was looking for. She came back to earth and realized how close she would have to stand to the wall, even her toes were practically touching the wall. This was going to be precarious. The jailer was growing impatient. The prisoner was nearly fully restrained and ready for her stay. With inelegant gruffness, Sarah’s wrists were swung behind her back, forced into the cuffs, and the cold steel ratchets were clasped shut around them. She gave the the cuffs a test and the pull against her pussy felt very sure. Sarah considered what she just did. The key to those cuffs was a room away, close enough. All she had to do was free herself from the clamps, whose continuous pressure on her nipples seemed to grow more intense every second. A little wave of fear ran through her and she instinctively tried to reach around to free herself from the wall. Her rope work was solid and she rewarded herself with another hard dig against her pussy. A gasp tried to escape through her gag and for the first time tonight, the “mmmph” it created scared her. No one would hear her cries. And no one was coming to rescue her. If Sarah was going to escape, she was going to have endure the torture she imagined for herself. She would have to pull her nipples out of the clamps that tightened the more she pulled or she would be trapped; naked, bound and helpless. ...

continues from part one Part Two The last orgasm took it’s toll and Sarah slumped forward against the wall, mashing her bound breasts against the wall, her nipples still throbbing. As the the waves ebbed, she tried again to grind her pussy into submission and pique its interest, but exhaustion was setting in too quickly and her head became dizzy. Without opening her eyes, she did her best to plant the balls of her feet into a position that would support her while leaning without a lot of effort, but the floor of the shower stall was now quick slick, and her momentary toe holds would quickly give out as her feet would start to slide slowly out from under her. It was becoming an exercise just to keep her legs under her. She had often masturbated right before bed and found a quick rub to be the thing to get her tired and off to dreamland. Now, Sarah had just experienced her third orgasm in succession, and the fatigue that was setting in was overwhelming. She felt as if she would black out. Her knees began to tremble and the power to hold herself against the wall was quickly flowing away. She had to act. With one defiant try, she arched her back slightly and rocked herself away from the cold plastic. Her sway back was abruptly stopped as her tits reached full extension and the chain of the clamps snapped taut. The sensation she experienced with that move was far worse than anything she felt prior to her ecstasy as the surge of adrenaline and dopamine had since subsided. The sudden jolt brought Sarah out of her stupor and an involuntary scream died as a grunt in her throat as the gag continued to keep her silent. The bite of the clamps seemed to escalate with each muffled breath as the pain in her nipples reached heretofore unknown levels. The coils of rope began to rub her raw above and below, as did the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, but the clamps delivered agony an order of magnitude beyond these as the sensation wavered between a fiery sting and a constant, intense ache. She instinctively attempted to bring her arms to the front again and slip the cursed things off, but her wrists, now overly sensitive as they pressed against their snug metal rings, reminder her that there was a specific order to be followed here. Sarah glanced down again at her little captors and fresh warm saliva spilled onto her tits; the lusty, animalistic rush the drooling gave her earlier quickly becoming a humiliating mess she wished she could stop. The clamps stared back at her with a shining silvery wink, unmoved at all from their starting position, as dug in as before. Any remnant of the pleasure she felt a few minutes before was gone, and the real pain she was feeling in her limbs and her stomach, the sticky cold sensation of her natural dew drying on her skin, capped with the sight and agony of her nipples inextricably sealed in the clamps came to a head, and big tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes as sobs arrived uncontrollably in her throat, the sound of them muffled by the gag wedged in her aching jaw only making her feel worse. The tears ran down her cheeks and quickly mingled with the damp glaze on her tits. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the wall, again assuming the balancing dance that the lean incurred. Her chest throbbed and heaved with stuttered gasps as she cried harder, tears streaming from her cheeks directly to the shower floor, landing with hollow little thuds in the silence, broken only by her whimpering. Her watery eyes peered down at her nipples, and the fluttering in her stomach that powered her arousal earlier had returned, accompanied by the sense of hopelessness that drove her fantasy. But this time it came from a feeling of panic and dread. What was she going to do? Even if Sarah had any courage left to pull against her restraints (which was long gone), it didn’t matter if they would not budge from their duty. These clamps seemed as inescapable as her handcuffs or shackles; unyielding, permanent without their keys. The last thought made her stomach do a full flip-flop and the queasy sensation only added to her helplessness. Her eyes welled up again, and just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, a new realization dawned on her. The intense force of her orgasms had been replaced by a slowly building pressure in her bladder. Sarah had to pee. At first, it didn’t seem to be imminent, but her deep sobs had pushed her closer to the edge and the urge to relieve herself, while not immediate, was now constant. She told herself she would not think about it, but that soon became an exercise in futility. The harder she though about it, the more acute the sensation became. She even gave the nipple clamps a good yank to try and distract herself. The shock of pain helped momentarily, but the gasp she produced only added another notch on the pressure gauge. She wondered if she could somehow break or shred her crotch rope with the handcuff chain to try and give herself more movement, but she quickly realized that everything was well beyond that point; her wrists were too far chapped to struggle with, the crotch rope was too soaked through with sweat to tear and shred and if she pulled on it anymore, she would probably just squeeze the urine right out of her. She began to moderate her breathing, slowing it down to try and relax. The clamps kept challenging her calm and any zen she tried to attain met with some distraction. She shifted her weight and brought her feet together, hoping to somehow reinforce the dam. The metal shackles on her ankles clanked against each other and she stood stone still, focusing all of her effort. But her new stance proved flawed as she found she lost her balance faster, and it was only with a quick shift of her feet to a wider stance that she was able to head off the imminent nipple yanking. The chain snapped taut, but only just as she just caught herself, and a high pitched squeak bounced off of the inside of her gag. Legs again spread for balance, Sarah marked time by how much everything hurt now as opposed to some time ago. She had no idea what time it was nor how long she stood in her self-imposed prison. She wondered how much more she could take of this, but quickly shook the thought off as it raised her panic level. There was no end here. She couldn’t imagine dying like this, but how could she go on? This was torture, slow and methodical, and she realized she would probably go crazy before anything else. The thought lingered in her head a moment and the wave of hopelessness she batted down before swelled back up in full force, and tears ran down her cheeks and tits as sobs once again caused her body to convulse uncontrollably. Her stomach had a full stone it it and the movement only highlighted the tenderness of the skin under her bondage. Worse yet, this round of sobs finally force the bladder issue front and center and Sarah felt as if she would burst if she didn’t let it go. Despite every indignity she forced upon herself this night, she winced at the thought of relieving herself in this manner. She never dared considered urinating a part of her sex life, it was something you did after sex, after the knots came loose and the gag popped out, part of the pleasure of release. She could never have imagined being trapped in her own bondage rigging, desperate to relieve herself. But then again she never imagined being trapped quite like this before. Her head turned slightly from side to side and she realized she WAS in a shower, a room with a dedicated floor drain. Where else would a civilized person do such a thing? Then again, what civilized person would be naked, bound, chained, gagged and clamped of their own accord? She pushed these quandaries out of her head and slowed her breathing. She relaxed as much as she could. The stream would simply hit the wall and flow down into the drain, simple. Once she got passed this little obstacle, she could get on with the real problems at hand. Her body relaxed and the first trickle dripped forth. Within a few moments, the trickle became a torrent. But the neat little stream she imagined didn’t take into account the tight cords of rope wrapped around her cunt and legs, forming a web that stood directly in the path of the flow. Urine surged out, sputtering and splattering against the crotch rope, and a spray of warm, acrid secretion gushed out in all directions like a fire sprinkler. A deluge of hot liquid streamed down her legs and pooled around her shackled feet, now covered in a fine mist. Sarah shouted into her gag, as if ordering her bladder to stop out loud. She tried to hold it in and stop the flow, but the urge was too great and she found herself out of control of yet another part of her body. For a moment, the indignity was outmatched by the warm, tingly sense of relief that she so desperately sought and a satisfied hum formed in her throat. The stream seemed to flow for minutes and the bottom of the shower was awash in a pale yellow film that seeped its way to the drain. But the damage was done, and she snapped back to reality as she realized she was soaked from crotch to toe, her legs raw and wet, small drops of urine rolled down her ankles sneaking past the shackles. In fact, she realized, she was soaked top to bottom, her hair was damp with sweat, her face and chest coated in tears and saliva, lubricant and urine from the waist down. She was a mess and her degradation and despair hit a new low. The shower floor was slick and her various effluence commingled into a slimy, unavoidable puddle under her bare feet. She was standing in a toilet and it started to smell that way too. While trying to ease the pressure on her wrists, it occurred to Sarah that to get the key to release herself, she would have to track the “milk” of her travails across her floors and carpets into the bedroom to the nightstand. The thought made her a little angry and she wondered for a moment if she could shower herself off while still bound, another first. While considering the options, her right foot slipped a little from its purchase and she found herself growling into her gag once again, tears flowing from the corners of her clenched eyes, as the clamps, still firmly gripping her tender skin, applied their talents as she slipped down. ...

“Aaahnnnee…..” the chain around my waist pulled tight for the umpteenth time. I stretched, and stretched further, lying full length on the wooden floor, my finger tips just inches from the keys, but again just, just out of reach. The tight waist chain pulling taut. My loose ddpvc suits pulled tight, arousing me again. The tight shiny rubber snout hood still pumped in and out with each breath, slightly hindering airflow, a further arousal. I felt the start of an orgasm building……… “nnaahhnoo……” I grunted into the snout, I grabbed at my groin area trying to stave off the inevitable. ...

The more that I think about playtime the sadder then anger sets in. You have been told to be naked when I arrive, no dressing gown, nude, showered with no deodorant on either. I want to smell you and you only. You didn’t even argue the fact, good about time you did as you are told. You are astounded as I take off my coat and I am fully clothed in latex suit, boots and my shaven cunt on show. Letting you know that on the way down my hands were constantly playing with myself, I bet you wish you had boobs in your suit. I arrive laden with goodies. I admire your body in a 360 degree rotation. I notice that you have smoothly shaved, lovely, hope you are keeping this up, females love it shaved especially if you want oral. I ask you to go and sit on a chair while I sort things out. I have brought with me the massage bed and a few other items which I purchased a while ago. You do not seem to be looking after the equipment. I rummage around the bags and select certain items; I come towards you with the transparent mask in hand. I stand between your legs as I place the mask on you, swivelling it around so that it is comfortable and zip it down the back, you are obviously excited as your cock has stiffened and is now winking at me. You miss this no denying it, I know. ...

continued from Part One 2: Wanted I have let myself into the house in the normal way, sorted through everything and have ready what I need. I am waiting in my dressing gown on the bottom of the stairs your arrival from the office. I have my plan clear in my mind and know that you will love every minute. You have promised not to ask any questions and to follow my instructions, not to help but be submissive and wanton for as long as I deem to stay for your pleasure. ...

continued from part 11 Part Twelve Three days had passed and Alice had not heard from the Baroness' kidnappers. The chief of security at the Baroness’ company discovered that one of his guards had been actually an impostor. Before he could be seized and questioned, the Baroness had been kidnapped. The impostor had tried to erase the security tape from the garage, but Martin had redundant systems installed, so that deliberate sabotage of the security system would be impossible. ...

A little Background to this Story that really happened last Winter 2008/2009 It is no fiction and really happened! I made a hobble skirt by myself out of an ankle length denim skirt. I sewed some zippers to each side and back/front so I can individually reduce my stride. All 4 closed, only 4 inch step length, around 10 cm. Also I own knee length platform boots, 1 inch platform, 5 inch heels that lace up the front that I used to wear while going out to a club near me. I also use this Boots when I dress up for a bit self bondage Fun at home. ...

(story continues from Echoes of Barking) Part Two Heading off into the hospital Emma began to feel a bit better. Her legs were still a bit wobbly but, as she dabbed her head, she found that there was little blood. She would have a lump, but she could live with that. Peering down at her map she was able to work out where she needed to go in this sprawling ancient building. ...

(story continues from Scorned Bound) Part Two Bill put his feet up on the coffee table, reached for the remote, and clicked on the thirty-two-inch monitor against the wall opposite the couch, making himself as comfortable as its cushiness was designed to offer. As she entered the room, and plopped down next to him, Vera asked, “Now what?” They both wore white, terry cloth robes, and smiles that clearly expressed their sensual satisfaction with the way the evening had thus far progressed. ...

Todd was a freshman in College. Summer was on its way and he was looking for some work. It wasn’t the best economy and he was having a difficult time. He had become friends with a senior named Bill. When he mentioned his financial problems, Bill told him what he did each summer. There was a very wealthy and rather eccentric woman who lived in a large mansion near the campus. Each year she would hire some of the guys from school for one month to use in her “Penis Garden” as she called it. At first Todd was cold to the thought of it until the money was brought up. She paid standard wages for each day of “work” plus a massive bonus to all the boys who made it through the entire month without requesting to leave. Todd knew very well that he needed the money. And it was a large sum for one month of his life. ...

Ellie was stuck, and she knew it right from the moment she slipped into her bonds. Now naked, tightly tied up, and very horny, she was in a bit of a fix. No rescue on the horizon, and even if there was a rescue, good God would that be embarrassing. How had she gotten into this mess? Ellie was an attractive girl, 5’2” with a slim build, and sandy colored hair with a great smile. She had been told she had a nice butt, but she already knew that. She also had a very nice rack, not overly large, but well proportioned to her body. She had heard some guys call her a “spinner”, and only found out much later what it meant. She was not sure she appreciated the rude comment, but the idea behind it intrigued her. In fact she was just awakening to that highly charged world of sex that would soon consume her summer. ...

Why did I have to do it? I love my leather gear and have a complete wardrobe of the stuff. The only thing about it being that when my body scent mixes with the leather, that fantastic new leather smell wears off. Not to worry though, I still love the feel of it and have found a place that does the spray leather scent they use in for older cars in used car show rooms. ...