(story continues from Everything going Wright and Rosie in undiscovered Borneo) Part Two Rosie Wright groaned when she heard the Albatross approaching on its regular visit. Knowing that in a few hours time she’d be confronted by the man who’d made love to her, given her a lovely dress to wear…then betrayed her. Having the girl marched at spear point to the top of the island then locking her in the cage that had been her home for the last few months. ...

I have been a bondage lover for many years. But as many of us self-bondage lovers know, it can be hard to find a partner. Therefore, self-bondage commences as it does with so many of you. And it was great, but like usual again, it gets boring eventually. I’m also an exhibitionist, in that I like to be naked in public and show off. I’ve been streaking since high school. ...

I am a photographer and a freshman in college. I mainly take sports pictures. Some of them even get into SI and other magazines. I also shoot models and fratparties. Frat parties pay the best but they are the least fun.100 drunks all trying to get into my pants, to see if I am a natural redhead and if my 34C breast are real. One day after diving practice, I made the diving team. A gentleman approached me as I was drying off and asked, “Are you Steffine, the photographer?” ...

(story continues from Explore Inc)_ Part 2: Back Again (Sequel to Explore Inc) I woke up a few hours later in the room David showed me. I looked around the room and saw a rubber bra and mini skirt sitting on a table. Next to them was a tray of food and a note. I sat down and read the note. It said: Steff I tired Julie out. We are sleeping in a room across the hall. You are welcome to look around and play with anything you want just so long as you stay on this floor. I do want to give you a word of warning. If you play with some of the machines make sure that you read the instructions. We should be up and about in a few hours. ...

I can’t say that he wasn’t fair. He did say a week before tonight that I should start exercising, perhaps catching up on my sleep if I felt drowsy. Besides which, I’d seen him tinkering with the porch for weeks so I knew he was up to something. In fact, he’d been so busy with his amendments that he’d neglected to punish me all month, and the usual pattern of welts on my bottom, breasts and rest of my body had cleared. ...

Kelly and her mother were having a playful argument in the kitchen when Uncle Sylvester walked in, living alone and next door, Sylvester would enter without warning, but he was such a kind and gentile man the family was always glad to see him, despite his oddness. “What’s all this then,” Sylvester said in his completely unidentifiable accent. “Uncle Sy” the women said in unison. “One at a time ladies,” said Sy, as he was called by the family, “why don’t you start Kelly.” ...

Part One I am traveling today, finishing a three day run to visit with the people that work for me out in the field. Each have their own things they have to do, and they rarely see me out in the field, unless there are problems. This week is just a get out and touch hands kind of week, but it does allow me to go out to places and become my feminine self. One day, I was reading one of the little contact mags in the adult book store and I saw an ad for a little B&B out in a direction that I would need to be going out to sometime in future. So I wrote down the number and location, and saw that they did have a website, so I wrote that down. When the time finally came to get out that way, and this was way off the beaten path when I looked at the map, I figured that it would be a nice place to go to. ...

(story continues from Fantasy B&B) Part Two I start to walk to the hallway and when I peek out into the hallway, I can see others doing the same thing I am, starting to walk out into the hall, slowly, as if not expecting what is going to happen next to them, as that is how I was feeling. When I get totally out of the room, I hear the door shut behind me. I turn and see that there is no knob on this side either. I happen to look on the floor and see two foot prints, or actually what would be two high heel prints on the floor and I figure that is where I need to be standing. So I move there and face down the hall, in the direction the prints seemed to be pointing. I look ahead and see others looking around, and when a couple notice what I am doing, they see me gesture to the floor with my eyes and head, and they catch on and find the marks on the floor. Then we hear a door open behind us and the sounds of high heels coming up from there. “Well, sissies, I guess you are not all that stupid, as some tend to be in the beginning. I am Mistress Angela and I am the Head Mistress here at the Joiner Academy for Sissies. Many years ago, Madeline Joiner started a B&B for sissies to indulge themselves in, and then realized that some of the sissies wanted or needed something more. So She started this academy. Sissies do not request to come here, necessarily, but many want to be here. But many do not want to end their time here, for in the end, they are sold off to the highest bidder, and the bids do get rather high, and they no longer get to enjoy their time here as they are now slave’s to their new owners. Their new owners can be men, women or both even. There are the occasional She-male owners, but not too many. We do have them as your trainers though, as we also have women here for your training.” “Now, the first thing that you should know here is that it is rare that an owned slave comes here, but we have that privilege this time. It is the only one wearing a collar that can not be removed. It’s name is sissy, which seems rather aptly named, though it has a middle name, slut, so I guess we will have to call it sissy slut so that we can call it out individually when necessary.” “Next, you will be given a meal and then be taken to the instructional room where you will learn the rules for this Academy. There is no dismissal from the academy, just punishments that will make you remember not to misbehave in the future. Take the time to learn what you need to learn, and you will survive the academy. If you do not learn, you will suffer and may have to become a prostitute rather than a sissy slave to your new Mistress or Master.” I listened to the Mistress and all I could do was think back, wondering who she was referring to as being my owner. As far as I could see, I was indeed the only one wearing a permanent collar with the name sissy on it, and wearing a charm between my breasts that said slut. But I was afraid to say anything for fear of being punished, and I did learn a little something in the military, in that you will learn more by listening and paying attention than by asking questions at the wrong time… ...

(story continues from Fantasy B&B Part 2) Part Three “Did that feel good, sissy? I am sure it did, and you will get quite a few more of that, but first…” then I felt the dildo slide out and something else being placed in it’s stead. Then I felt it expand and start to vibrate, which elicited a moan from my mouth. “Oh, sissy likes them big, huh? Well, this will be even better for you then!” as she took a large penis gag and locked it into my mouth, and I could taste that is had some cum on it. ...

Fantasy Football Slave edition The Tara and Racheal story All characters are fictional. First part will be slow as it sets up the story line Chapter 1 January 24, 2016 6am Tara Kern was extremely nervous and could not sleep, so she got out of bed early this morning, as this was the day set by the fantasy football league for all losers to start their one week of slavery. ...

(story continues from Fantasy Football Slaves) Fantasy Football Slave edition The Tara and Racheal story Editor’s note: All characters are fictional. Chapter 2 January 24, just before noon Sue drove the car to Racheal’s home and as they approached the closed gate, all three were amazed at the size of her estate. They were buzzed in and through the intercom and Sue was instructed to park at the garage and they were to walk to the front door. ...

This is a story intended for adults only. It contains scenes of humiliation, various aspects of bdsm and non-consensual acts these things. So this is not for the kids. This is fiction mixed with some reality. The names and events that are real have been altered to protect all involve. Prelude: The Ideal It came to me one day, an ideal like none I’ve ever had before. I have always been interested in Bdsm. A switch but more prone to be the slave. However I had never been really fulfilled as being either top or bottom. I had tried many things and many people. Yet, I could not find fulfillment I have been into bdsm since a child. I was always willing to be tied up or do the tying up a friend in the childhood games of old. To be quite honest I went out of my way to make childhood games involve being tied up or spanked. I was the kid who always chose dare in truth or dare. But I digress; as I grew up I found a few people with the same desires and helped me to explore mine. By the time I was 23, I knew I would always be into this life and it was no experimental phase. I did most anything and anyone in high school. To be quite honest I was a male slut. Always trying the new and different seeing if I liked it. I had many a domme and Dom in these years but none never lasted. I didn’t care if man or woman owned me or used me. As long as they fed my desire for more. ...

I never considered my use of scarves as fashion accessories as a fetish. Yes, most of my outfits or coordinated pieces had a scarf or two as a component that could be used to give them a certain look or dress it up or down to fit an occasion, but a fetish? Yes, wearing the Hermes scarf that I received as a college graduation gift from my aunt Grace Kelly style with my brown leather jacket and its turned up collar on a cold Minnesota autumn evening gave me a snug and protected feeling while looking very classy, but a fetish? Yes I did enjoy the look and feel of draping a folded scarf around my neck and tucking its ends into my bra before putting on the jacket of my navy blue pin-striped suit, but a fetish? Perhaps. ...

[Author’s note: I wrote this in honor of a real-life leather domme who has worked in the fashion industry. I do not vouch for all the details of how fashion shows work. If there are any errors, they are in my mind. The dining “box” is something I’ve actually seen, in a restaurant that was designed to evoke Renaissance England. I’ve just put that to good use here.] Duarte fingered the rim of his wine glass nervously. Even though he sat in his favorite restaurant, he was uncomfortable. That was because was not sitting in the booth up front where he usually held court. Instead, he was parked in Lana’s special dining box. It was a free-standling wooden box about seven feet high, just big enough to hold the dining table for two that Duarte, for the moment, occupied all by himself. Even though it was coming up on 2 a.m., Lana was late, as usual. She certainly knew how to milk an entrance. And, no doubt, a man. ...

Part One If it had been up to me, who dared not run the risk contemplated by my other me, what ended up happening at one in the morning of October 10th, 2001 could not have possibly made it into my 28-year-old history book. But it did, giving me pause to think on where my naiveté could lead if ever I decided to visit John’s place again. A friend, whose questionable intentions gave me further reason to deliberate the consequences of another adventure, introduced us at a party. Yet, regardless of how purposefully I tried to resist, urgings to call the new number in my sparsely populated phone book inspired many a sleepless night. Over and over replayed the highlights of that first taste of ‘forbidden fruit,’ my first exquisite encounter with what Judy called ‘delayed gratification.’ Secretly, I thanked her for not divulging the details of what that term represented. If she had, I might have spent the rest of my life wondering what it might feel like to turn my body over to a man of John’s talents and fore-playing imagination. ...

(story continues from Fast Lane Bondage) Part Two John’s parties were the best and most interesting I’d ever attended. The vibes were as good as they get, where the meeting of perfect strangers was concerned. People from all walks of life filled the tenth floor with a festive cacophony of base-touching conversation and newfound acquaintance. It was an honor to co-host, and a joy to witness, from the arrival of the first guest, to the last departure, which often lingered to first light. ...

(story continues from Fast Lane Bondage 2) Part Three ‘MY MIND AND HEART ARE FILLED WITH THOUGHTS OF HOW IT WAS WITH US,’ hand-printed Donna one day in an unexpected letter, ‘OF HOW IT FELT TO BE ALMOST NAKED IN YOUR EYES, SAVE THE ROPES YOU HAD SO MASTERFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY WOUND AND KNOTTED AROUND AND ABOUT MY BONDAGE VIRGINITY.’ We hadn’t seen each other in several months. But strong, vivid memories remained, to keep us from forgetting we were once intimately and happily involved. ...

(story continues from Fast Lane Bondage 3) Part Four Jamie had yet to experience the possible turn-on of getting tied up and pleasured by a man, an adventure she and close friend Terry had wondered about since both first watched a bondage video sent to them by an unknown, mysterious stranger. It appeared in each of their mailboxes on the same day, postmarked in their zip code, accompanied by a note that simply read: ‘IF YOU WANT MORE, TAPE AN ‘X’ ON YOUR BEDROOM WINDOW FOR TWO DAYS.’ Both women opted not to tell each other about receiving the tape. They also decided to bring up the now-and-again-discussed subject sometime during their next hangout klatch. In the interim, each masking taped an ‘X’ in the designated window, without telling the other they had, for reasons that were secretly diametric. ...

(story continues from Fast Lane Bondage 4) Part Four There were nights when Marilyn’s heart yearned to be free of ‘the thorn,’ longed to say “No!” to it, once and for all, to be done with its obsessive compulsions forever. But the castle, with its myriad passageways, labyrinths and appointments would not allow her the option, now that she’d become an unwitting prisoner to its ever-beckoning mysteries, a willing partner to the unique excitements found within its many-themed chambers. Her formidable influence over the wills of men was legend. A ten-year, top-ten career as a high fashion model had taught her much about that power, perhaps too much. Yet, she preferred to be powerless in her sovereignty, impotent to the easily available possibilities, free from the awesome responsibility of selecting her circumstance. It was a dangerous freedom to indulge, let alone master. But thanks to friends, and the safety with which they surrounded her, Marilyn could well afford to run risks when satiating the gnawing needs of her ten-year-old habit. ...

Hey there, say there. My name’s Faye and this all really happened during 2 ½ days in late 2002. But first of all, I want to tell you that it’s okay if you skip the part about me and go to the dirty part. I understand. No, really! ========= …Thank you for still being here with me. I’m not sure why I’m typing this or what I’ll do with it. I guess I’ll upload it somewhere because, well, what else can I do? I can’t print copies and send them as Christmas cards to my friends ...