CHAPTER 1 - NEW RULES Irina and Alex met six months ago in a twist of fate. He was a young, hungry for success intern at a law firm. She was a very successful lawyer, and much, much more. He was in his twenties but looked young as he was short, slim, and had very little facial or body hair. She was a very impressive woman of visible Russian descent; tall, blonde, blue eyed, and charismatic. ...

Part 22. GiGi Emma had been walking multiple decks with Janice in tow on a leash. Emma was still in her small yellow bikini with the bottoms over her chastity belt. Her high heels were the only other things she was wearing, and her feet were feeling them between the demonstration and the amount of walking, with more to go. It was something Emma happily endured as she wanted them as a part of her lifestyle including the ballet boots she had finally been using on this cruise. She would have a break from being on her feet at dinner. She wasn’t sure what her night with Master Robert would entail. But first she needed to finish her time with Janice and hoped that Janice enjoyed her surprise. ...

Chapter 28 – Nurse in a Hole It was obvious that our little community at the Chateau was about to change. That’s not to say that change hadn’t been almost constant since I inherited the run-down Chateau in Croatia and then discovered the group of English cyclists squatting on my ‘estate.’ I allowed the group to stay, we imprisoned Heather in a consensual non-consensual arrangement, I met and hired Lucija, I moved my sex toy business to Croatia and put a lot more of the group to work. After a while we met more and more locals and included Dr. Ana and her nurse Sara in the circle. ...

Part Six “You what?!” Sherrie exclaimed, spraying coffee across the table. Her outburst earned a disapproving look from the girl behind the counter. Sherrie immediately lowered her voice and began wiping up the spilled coffee. “Tell me you’re joking,” she hissed. “I panicked,” Jessica moaned. “I thought I was going to choke. And I couldn’t get him to stop. What was I supposed to do?” she asked miserably. She could feel herself tearing up once again. ...

Chapter 1: Introductions and background Greetings. My name is Robert, friends and acquaintances call me Bob, close friends and relatives, including Mike, call me Bobbie. Sir Michael calls me Bitch when he is providing commands or instructions, he sometimes calls me Cunt or Pussy when he is administering discipline or is otherwise displeased with me. Mike, that is, Sir Michael served as my Dominant for a long week last May. He had me keep a daily journal of my trials detailing my training, lessons, and bondage so later I could fondly remember the pleasures and pains of my servitude. Subsequently, at his suggestion, I transcribed the journal into a narrative. From his training I have learned, often via a paddle, that suggestions from a Master are very similar to commands. Plus, knowing that he has retained photographs of some of my lessons, suitable for exploitation on social media, serves as an additional encouragement to comply. My original attempt to write about the events that transpired were accurate and detailed but was somewhat dry to read. Sir Michael wants me to share my experience with others as they may relish reading about my servitude, training and suffering. So also at his suggestion, I have rewritten that narrative into a chronicle in a story style so that it is a better read and captures the timeline and activity details as well as the exhilaration and dialog missing from the original document. ...

Return to Paradise Part One I found my European trip so rewarding that I needed to return there to seek out other new business opportunities. This time I need to focus on new business clients rather than possible acquisitions. To be perfectly honest I found even more personal reasons for this trip. I found that my appetite for personal rubber debauchery has changed. For years I have been a solo player enjoying my sexual pleasure in total privacy. My experience at the rubber club in London and the brothel in Hong Kong has enlightened me to broader decadence. Rubber wise my last trip to Europe was a sourcing trip buying new items for my pleasure. This trip I intended to use my purchases extensively during my trip. I also intend to explore the rubber scene more, especially in Paris and Amsterdam. There are several fetish events that intrigue me. I also plan to explore the rubber brothel scene for my personal pleasure and as preview plans I have to possibly invest in one of my own back in the states. With all these goals in mind I packed up my extensive stash of rubber with plans to ship it in advance of my trip. ...

Part 9 “I’m very worried about her, Catherine,” Donna said with a desperate tone in her voice, “She’s been very quiet recently, please let me know that everything is okay.” Despite wearing the mask, the smell of cleaning chemicals filled my nostrils, it was one of the only scents that managed to pass through the layers of latex. I had gotten used to the smell of my second skin at this point and something new was a blessing. Not often did Donna take us out of the property, I had not seen outside the walls since before I was locked in that cage, but Poppy’s behaviour recently had got our owner worried. Since hearing the news of the upcoming trial, Poppy began to hide herself away from us. Not making an effort to be sociable with us and wanting to be alone was understandable at first, but this had been going on for a while now. We were sure at one point, the white cat would snap out of her mood and return to her normal behaviour. Even the sight of Catherine, the woman who looked after us when we were released from the suit; was not enough to alleviate the symptoms. ...

Chapter 27 – The Doctor Reports About a week after the party, Carl came into my office. “Ana wanted me to invite you and Paula over for dinner. She has that info about the physical and mental dangers of solitary confinement you were interested in.” And so, Paula and I rang the doorbell of Dr. Ana Horvat’s house at about 6 the next evening. Carl opened the door and led us back to the kitchen, the gathering place in most homes. What greeted us there was a bit of a shock in spite of our kinky nature. ...

Part 7 More than once Brianna Wilde had mused on how odd it was that she found bondage so relaxing. No matter how strenuous the position, no matter how tight the bonds, and no matter how long she remained within them, something about the experience seemed to send the tension fleeing from her body. She knew it was all in her head, of course. After all her muscles often ached after some of the more extreme sessions she had experienced and even relatively modest bondage could be quite demanding on a physical level. But that did not seem to matter, something about being rendered helpless, about giving up all control, just spoke to her on an almost primal level. Made the stress and worry of the day just melt from her shoulders like water. Case in point, the blue-haired girl currently hanging in an intricate and beautifully crafted rope harness, trapped in one of the tightest hogties she had ever experienced with her head pulled back, her mouth stuffed to near capacity and a pair of clamps dangling from her nipples had somehow never felt more free. Some part of her had always wondered about that paradox and why it affected her so deeply but, as she swayed gently in her ropes watching the woman who had put her there carefully lower a vacbed containing an equally helpless woman trapped within onto the floor, Brianna found that she really didn’t care all that much. Even if she was extremely sexually frustrated at the same time. ...

Part 1 Note: this is a work of fiction exaggerated based on real events. This is not a safe idea, and should not be used as a guide, inspiration, or instruction. I have been out of the lifestyle for a while now, but am in a much better situation now to partake in my interests, free from judgment or shame about it. I plan to continue this story and document some others of mine, true, and fiction. ...

I was bored after work. It hadn’t been a busy day, the tourist season was over and the business was getting quiet. I had been sent home early and looking around my room I wondered what I should do next. My room was a double bedroom in a shared house with three other girls. We were all lodgers of our landlady Mrs Stamford, who had converted her house after her husband had passed away. She’d turned the downstairs into one big flat for herself and the four bedrooms upstairs were each rented out to one of us girls. We had a shared bathroom on the top floor between us, but no kitchen: In my room I had a microwave and a small fridge. That alongside a wardrobe, a dresser and a desk for my laptop was what I called home. ...

Trudging home from work, I had my head down and felt miserable. It had been a rough day, abusive customers, low tips and Gillian, my boss, had been making noises that she might permanently reduce my hours for the winter. I’d been locked in my chastity belt now for nearly nine weeks and my neediness had been gradually simmered away. I felt different, like I had surrendered inside and I wasn’t sure I liked it. ...

Chapter 26 – Labor Day When I discovered that Croatia celebrated Labor Day, or International Workers Day, I was pretty excited. Growing up, Labor Day always involved a big BBQ, lots of food and drink. It also signaled the beginning of summer! “Let’s throw a big Labor Day BBQ for all our friends!” I suggested, during dinner one mid-April evening. “Sounds fun, what do you have in mind,” Paula, ever the practical one asked, “and how many people are we talking here?” ...

Part Five Jessica staggered forward as the door hit her in the rump. She wanted to turn and pound on the door, to beg to be let back in. But she was quite sure that Don wasn’t kidding. He wanted her to drive home in her ridiculous outfit. She was shocked to see how late it was. Afternoon traffic was picking up. She must have been Don’s captive for longer than that, she thought. “Time flies when you’re having fun,” Jessica muttered sarcastically. ...

9 - The football match For almost a year after the first concrete burial Jenny was happy with doing what had by now become normal. She would be buried (under soil, not concrete) for anything up to a day, she would volunteer to be sealed in the floor display at the sex club, she would be locked in a plastic crate which was sometimes taken for a drive out to Claire’s farm or just left under the bed for a few hours, or be screwed into the wooden crate filled with foam. On quite a few of those occasions they ended up having sex with Mike and Liz, either in two’s, three’s or even foursomes. And on a couple of occasions she would spend several days under the shed with a fresh layer of concrete over her, with Christmas being her longest burial yet at five days. ...

10 - All good things… Things continued for a good few months with Jenny regularly getting boxed or buried, occasionally being the centre of attention in the floor at the sex club, and even on special occasions getting buried and covered with a layer of concrete, but at the same time Dave noticed that she seemed to be getting more clumsy and less coordinated over time. Thinking back, she had been for well over a year, so decided that she needed to see her doctor. ...

Chapter 25 – Sex Toy Catalog Lucija had suggested that our company’s sex toy catalog pictures, both for the web and print, were sterile. They were just pictures of our products sitting on tables or against solid backdrops. “They show the products clearly, but they don’t incite the imagination of the customers,” she argued. “Besides, we should be using short video clips, especially on the more complex electronic products.” “But we don’t have the sets, lighting or photo equipment to take the kind of shots you are suggesting.” I countered. ...

CHAPTER 1 THE VANDERDIKES Cynthya Vanderdike had a good life. She went to a nice college with friends who loved her. Her wardrobe contained all the expensive clothes she could buy with her daddy´s credit card. She was beautiful and took pride in it. Girls were jealous of her, and boys lusted her. She lived a spoiled, privileged life, and loved it. She was Cynthya Vanderdike. Her existence was beautiful. All in it, but one thing. Her nasty, mean, piece of shit brother. They say twins usually get along and can understand each other very well. This was not the case. Her brother, Ash, had been a pain in Cynthya´s ass since she could remember. He had not been popular in high school, and considered that Cynthya had an easy life just because she was a beauty. His remorse made him take revenge at home, teasing Cynthya at any chance he had, breaking her dolls, spreading fake rumors about her to ruin her social life, and treating her like she was a stupid bimbo. ...

8 - A concrete plan As had happened before, having a more extreme adventure seemed to satisfy Jenny for some time, during which the less extreme games continued (and it’s odd that being buried under the shed is considered to be in the ’less extreme’ category). Mike and Liz still came round some times to indulge in either burying Jenny, strapping her to the floor boards, or locking her in either the plastic crate or the wooden box. She also continued to put her name down to go in the floor display at the club although she didn’t always get picked, and even had a second session under the wooden floor boards during a standard nightclub evening. Eventually though, Dave knew that she would be craving something new so had checked her browsing history to get an idea of what sort of thing she might find exciting. He found that she had been reading more stories about being buried, where a concrete floor was laid above the victim. Sometimes this was supposed to be permanent, but other times part of the fun was that it would take time for the floor to set, and then more time to break it open enough to retrieve the victim. ...

…It was a little bit fun, a little bit crazy, but the ocean was particularly warm for this late in the season, and almost all the tourists were thankfully gone for the year. That left us locals… Between Memorial Day and Labor Day ‘they’, meaning the endless tourists, felt a bit like an invading army, but they were also the lifeblood of the local economy too, so a little bit good, a little bit bad, all at the same time. The beach was once again ours though, just us, and the very early morning surf-casting fishermen a few hours from now; no daily passes to be paid for, but no lifeguards either. ...