(story continues from Annie Part 2: Bondage Challenge) Part 3: The Attempt When the door first closed on her, Annie took a deep breath and tried to relax. She was rather convinced she wouldn’t be able to free herself, so she prepared to wait for Kristine to start the bargain about freedom. As time slowly passed she started to experience the physical aspects of being bound. She could hardly move at all, and she wasn’t even interested in trying. She could move her fingers, but her wrists were well secured and the rest of her arms felt like they were welded to her body. She was completely immobile. ...

Back in 1982 there was a great movie titled “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.” It stared Burt Reynolds, Dolly Parton and Dom DeLuise. I like to think that some of the plot was based on a real tradition at the college that I attended. In the 1960s I was a student at a small private college in the Midwestern United States. We had a football team and it competed in a regional league of similar schools. We won a fair share of the games, but never dominated the others. Nevertheless, most of us enjoyed the experience, and we had a faithful group of fans who attended our games, whether away or at home. ...

(story continues from Adventures of a Sex Doll 3) Part 4 Two o’clock and the black vehicle arrived. I hopped in and we travelled to the house. There I was given the passcode to the house alarms by the friendly elderly chauffeur and told that more instructions would be inside. I thanked him deeply and wondered if having sex with me would kill him – talk about dying happy! Ken was right, I realized, as I stood in the front yard, this big old house was ‘made’ for me somehow. It was an ornate five bedroom affair with three levels, I recalled, designed originally for a family in mind with a fenced backyard. It had been very well looked after outside and I suspected the inside had been cleaned up in the morning. Not wanting to stare, I opened the front door with the key and went inside. ...

(story continues from Alice) Part 2 “That’s the last of it, Alice. Well, it’s all I can fit in the truck, anyway.” I murmur, walking though the house one last time. Fifteen years of marriage, and in return I was allowed to visit ye olde homestead, alone, driving a vehicle titled in my name, to take whatever I could haul away in one trip. The tiny miata I normally drove was fun, but the beat-up pickup truck for sale on the side of the road had been worth every penny of six hundred dollers, and I was pretty good at packing. “You’ve got a new owner, now, slut. I took the rest of the sex toys; of course I’ll take you too.” My sneakers echo against the bare floors of the nearly empty house. “It’s amazing how much stuff you can fit into a pickup truck, Alice, if you leave the large furniture for him.” I lock the front door, though it hardly seems necessary anymore, and head for the truck, with you slung casually over one shoulder. You bounce against my back, your fingertips dangling almost to the ground. “You’re gonna have to sit in the front seat, though, Alice, since your box is full of books.” I prop you up against the seat and buckle you in, smiling a bit as your head lolls, and you stare glazed-eyed out the window. “Are you tired, little slut-doll? Did I wear you out? You shouldn’t be, Alice. After all, all you had to do was lay there– I’m the one who did all the work. And I have to drive us home. That hardly seems fair. Guess you’ll just have to make it up to me tonight, won’t you, my little fuck-toy.” I cut across the lawn, and, wincing at the muddy marks in the grass, head for home. ...

Authors Note: This was originally going to be my entry for the short story contest, but I decided to go with another story instead. It was one hell of a stressful day. Get back from a week-long company retreat looking forward to going to a movie, relaxing, doing some writing. Instead, I get greeted with the fact that I need to help move my mother to a new apartment, that I need to clean up the house, and a host of other frustrations. And as it turned out, our pet rabbits, while I was away, had somehow managed to grab hold of the corner of the comforter on the bed, thus chewing it to bits so that whenever it moved, feathers flew by the hundreds through the air. Needless to say, I was REALLY pissed off. ...

The kids have grown up and left home. Their mum had walked out soon after and my life was a mess. When I sat down to analyze, what was wrong, I realized that there must be more to life than this. So I started to explore all the areas of life which I had previously not had any interest in. Well that’s not quite true; some of the areas were way outside of the norms of my upbringing. ...

Here is another one to add to the group of short stories as opposed to novelettes…what is fact and what is fiction…you’ll never know After all these years, I’ve slipped back to my roots of rubberism. I am wading again, not just wading in water to my knees or waist but deep water and thick mud. The deeper the water and mud the better! Feeling the gooey mud pressing rubber close about me is the most amazing feeling. The cool from the mud works it way through the layers and keeps me cool even as I exert great effort just to pull my feet out of the bog and sink into the next brown sucking spot. ...

Susan left the flat and headed for the bus stop for the last day of the week at the office. She looked like just the rest of the commuter crowd. Her stomach was rumbling. She hadn’t eaten much breakfast. She was saving herself for tonight. The bus journey to work was it’s usual uneventful affair, apart from one man “accidently” touching her bum as he walked past. If she had been wearing her usual heals, she’d have “accidently” stabbed his foot. Today, however, she was wearing plain ballet flats. She was saving herself for tonight. ...

LEGAL NOTICE: This is purely a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. continued from chapter 7 Chapter 8: Hot and Buttered Heather “So, has Miss Brulée told you anything about what she wants me to do?” Heather inquired with all the energy of a teen-aged girl dating the hottest boy in the school just before heading out on her first date alone with him. ...

Miss had been very busy for a week or so now, and I had the suspicion she was planning something. She spent hours every day in our basement, and ignored me when I casually asked what she was doing down there all the time. Today, I found out. She woke me up early this morning, and pulled me into the bathroom. She had me shave my face, my legs and my pubic hair, and she helped me shave some of the more inaccessible parts of my body until the only hair left was on my head. She was obviously quite excited about something, and that made me quite nervous. Sometimes her secrets turn out to be pleasant surprises, other times very painful ones. I had a sense this could be one of the latter. ...

(story continues from Gai-Shift - Angel 4: Caught in the Trap)_ _To review the characters in this story, check out this useful guide: Gai-Shift Encyclopedia of Knowledge To understand the Gai Shift, please read the previous story Gai-Shift prior to reading this one. Chapter 5: Trials & Punishments Sybil, the Knightsbridge Angel, ran a hand through her short black hair and looked over the scene of the crime. It had been a shame that she’d left her blonde wig in Constance’s flat last night. Lady Petunia had been such a wonderful lover that, even bound hand and foot, she’d given Sybil one hell of a ride. Part of it might have been the aerosoled elixir than had hung in the room’s air, but Sybil also figured that Petunia, for all of her nobility, was quite the spirited trollop. Licking and tickling her withering Ladyship while Chief Officer Drummand hung in that MI claw of hers, being lowered nearly but not quite onto a whirling plug, had really gotten Sybil’s juices flowing, juices she’d been all to happy to have Petunia lap up with her cunning little tongue. But all nice things end, and she’d flown away in the pre-dawn light, one tired little winged succubus. And in all the distraction, she’d forgotten her wig. ...

(story continues from Kim’s Tail 3: Hazel)_ Chapter 4: Kate Kate stood on the landing pad watching the helicopter recede into the distance. It had, she considered, been a busy week. She had been surprised at some of the people who had chosen not to attend the funeral. But then again, maybe not. The past few days had been a media frenzy and she was glad to finally be away from the spotlight. Jim had known and, despite being a complete bastard in life, had thrown her a lifeline after his death. A retreat to gather her thoughts and slip away from public scrutiny. Literally an island in a sea of sharks, or at least paparazzi. Turning she walked towards the house as she considered what had just happened. ...

“I’m really worthless, Jim.” “You’re not worthless, Kristen. You’re just depressed. You’ll feel better when you find a job. Or you could go to college. Study mechanical engineering, maybe. You’re certainly smart enough. Whatever you do, you need to get out of the apartment.” Jim and I were sitting on the couch in his apartment on Tuesday evening. Or was it Monday? Or Wednesday? When all of the days are the same it’s hard to keep track. I was wearing my usual Pointless Existence outfit of shorts and sleeveless blouse, both faded and worn. Jim was wearing his off-duty outfit of jeans and a teeshirt, both faded and worn. I looked drab, he looked sharp. ...

The sun had just set over the verdant hills of Sunway Drive, casting a crimson glare among the houses. Kate sat in her living room half watching the television, however most of her attention was on the clock. 8:15 PM The reason being two days prior, she received an anonymous email with only two pieces of information: 18/11/2008 - 9:00PM That was today!! Kate was a beautiful woman, with sparkling chocolate brown eyes, long blonde hair and a figure that could have a man begging. She was tall and slim, with 32DD boobs, and an equally juicy ass to match. She had established relationships with a few men over the years, but after Chris she had given up. ...

I do not endorse intergalactic kidnapping. Do not attempt any of the following. All characters are fictional or possibly somebody you don’t know, so don’t worry about it. Elizabeth yawned, blinking her eyes in the soft light. She attempted to bring her hand up rub away the remaining sleep from her vision. Still not fully awake, she struggled in confusion when her hand was held in place. Her sense of proprioperception slowly returned, giving her an intrinsic knowledge that her body was lying down, feet shoulder width apart, with her hands at her sides. Struggled more then in increasing anxiety and felt the restraints on her wrists, ankles, thighs – she even felt resistance at each finger, as though metal gloves pinned them down. ...

I am one of the unlucky ones. This past spring the company I had worked for the last 15 years decided to reduce the number of employees. Although I had the highest proficiency rating I had two major things going against me: (1) Unlike the service manager and assistant manager I was not a relative of the owner by blood or marriage. (2) I was the oldest employee. I was given a liberal severance payment. ...

My clothes were scattered halfway across the mountain, and I couldn’t find any of them. Not only that I had also lost the keys to the chains I wore. I was in big trouble. It had seemed so easy, coming up here. I carried the chains I meant to use in todays bondage game, taking off an item of clothing every once and a while as I walked up the mountain, until naked and totally alone I could go deep into the woods and put on my chains. I had looked forward to the struggle to reclaim my clothing, the keys for the chains left back in my car. ...

Author’s Note: This story is inspired by the 1979 horror film, “Tourist Trap”. At a modest truck and travel stop along the massive interstate, the lunch crowd had arrived in full force of travelers and truck drivers alive. The booths were packed with all sorts of people, with even the front serving bar filled up. Alicia parked her car and entered the packed restaurant, seeing the crowd and immediately wondered how long the wait would be before she ordered; 10 minutes? 30 minutes, maybe? Was she better off heading back to her car and driving a little further for lunch? ...

Note: This story was initially written by Filador50 as a sequal to his outstanding story, “The Sentence”. In his own words, “There have been calls for a sequel to The Sentence-I had put some thought into a story, but could never seem to come up with a plot sufficient to meet my demanding standards. A story was partially composed and never finished.” He forwarded thetext to me, which I have expanded upon and completed. ...

“How could any self-respecting person allow someone to do that to them?” I was in a neighborhood bar, right after work, in my male mode, seated (coincidentally) next to a very attractive 40-something female. The TV behind the bar was tuned to the local news. The feature on at that moment was the story of a rather hot-looking young lady, who had been severely beaten, ending up in the hospital. The perpetrator, as it turned out, was her live-in boyfriend. ...