Amy was the quintessential poor little rich girl but with a twist, she loved fetish and bondage. Amy’s parents had set her up with a nice home and an allowance that allowed her to live a very comfortable lifestyle. The beautiful girl had never been made to work or earn a living so her only pastime had been shopping and partying. Now in her mid-twenties Amy sat around most days shopping on-line buying everything she found interesting. When a past girlfriend had introduced her to bondage, she found she liked it a lot. Amy had since invested all her time into exploring the lifestyle, even spending time as a slave to a wonderful mistress. ...

Consider dust. In the slant light of the late afternoon, dust motes drift lightly on the turbulent currents of air. Winking in and out of sight like stars in the sky. Tiny worlds that exist for a moment in time to be lost in shadow. The capricious turns of invisible forces dictate the fate of each individual atom. Predictable in general, though chaos for the single. Dust inside the home is largely the shed flakes of skin from the humans that inhabit the space. The Carbon of which it is composed, is the cast off dust of dead stars. The Universe, energy and matter, compacted into the tiny bedroom. A cool breeze comes through the open window disturbing the stuffy air. The light drapes made to flap with a soft rustle. Outside the world buzzes and hums with life going on as it does. ...

My name is Amanda. I’m 34 years old, 1.65 m, and 62 kg. I’m fit (hot), with big breasts, strong legs, and a thin waist. I’ve always fantasized about being trapped in prison full of handcuffs and restraints. However, I wanted a safe and controlled environment. I heard about BDSM Paradise, a remote island in the Caribbean, from a friend, and I immediately became interested. I got in touch and received a quote and a form to fill out. The price was too high, but I could afford it (thanks to a nice inheritance I received). The form was quite long, with personal details, medical details, and a list of what they offered, and I would have to mark what I preferred. The list was as follows: ...

Part Three After the success of the last display that we had in the castle with the haunted house, it had been really well received by the public, and so the castle’s owners had decided to focus on having more live entertainment and displays; they had even hired an events manager to run them, Hanna, and I had been placed under her to act as her assistant. Which basically meant that on top of my other duties around the castle, and my time serving as the castle maiden, I would also be helping her with organising various upcoming events. ...

Part 1 – The Meeting She saw him sitting at the table in the corner of the restaurant’s outdoor dining area. It was a beautiful spring day, and it was the perfect setting for their meeting. Public but not crowded. Privacy to a point, but enough to know that they had to keep their voices down. Not that it mattered to Monica. She loved to push her clients’ buttons by being just a little too loud to cause them to shrink in embarrassment. ...

My husband and I were walking on a trail as we sometimes do, just he and I, out for a summertime stroll to get some exercise and experience nature. We love it, the sights, smells, and intimate conversations are just magnificent, but knowing what was going on behind the proverbial scene that particular day makes this extra special. Anyway, we have a playful relationship together, but he likes it more and more when I’m the driving force these days, both in matters of the flesh, and even in other things such as where and what we’re to eat and spend our free time. He has a job that gives him some stress, one that also provides enough for me to stay home if I choose though, but these “de-stress” outings of ours are more and more necessary these days, as is my taking charge of the daily details of life around our modest home. ...

Chapter 40: The Weekend, Varieties of Bondage “Protocol back on, Regina.” Fred declared, “And Clair, I think, since Regina has figured out our ‘game’, you can leave protocol off.” “Awww, you mean I don’t get any more beatings?” Clair whined. “Oh, I didn’t say that,” Fred laughed, “I just don’t think we need to roleplay punishments anymore, I’ll just beat you because we both enjoy it. Clair, grab the key to Regina’s chain, time to move to the basement.” ...

Part Thirteen 2 When Steve eventually returned after taking his time, there before him stood the vision of loveliness that a now very naked Emma’s body presented to him. She had removed her dress, shoes and wig, placing them on the desk and sat there with her hands in her lap, with her eyes cast down, looking every part the submissive slave girl that Steve knew that she loved to be, waiting for him to return. He had seen this docile side of Emma before, so he now knew for sure that she had given in to her own compliant thoughts and desires, the inner meatgirl in her winning out and coming to the fore. ...

Part 1 - “Being of sound mind…” The hotel suite was fairly large and you could view the park out the windows. It certainly looked expensive. David sat on the sofa next to his lawyer Melanie Garcia. He wanted someone who he could trust, and she was pretty much the best in the city. It didn’t hurt that they were both friends, although he kicked himself for not taking it further when he had the opportunity. Opposite from them were the two London lawyers, Arthur Beech and Sylvia Cronin. Two weeks ago, David had received a phone call from Ms. Cronin inquiring if he was the son of Barbara Hyde-Griffin. After a little conversation, he was told that she and her associate wished to discuss a matter regarding his uncle, Robert. She was a little vague and explained that their discussions would need to be kept in strictest confidence, and that they should meet in person. David asked Melanie for her help as this was sounding as if it was going to be a serious legal matter. She made some inquiries and confirmed that those two were authentic attorneys in a very old and distinguished London firm. ...

Part 9 Surrounded by a warm and comfortable darkness as she lay just on the edge of sleep, her mind relaxed and her body distant, Brianna Wilde felt… strange. Not bad, not bad by any stretch of the imagination, but strange nevertheless. There was an odd sensation, velvety and soft yet also tingling and insistent, that seemed to permeate her very being. A trill up her spine, a buzzing along her limbs, a heat in her chest that pulsed with every beat of her heart. It was odd, so hard to describe, even to herself, and yet for all of that it felt so achingly familiar as well. Like that almost electric feeling on the skin in a lightning storm, or the inexplicable “film” that static seemed to form in the hair. But it was more than that. It was warm and soft, oh so soft, like the feeling of silk running across the skin, but sharp as well like lips pressed hard against her own or teeth nipping at her pulse and just as pleasant. It reminded her for all the world of the liquid lightning that was her power, like the strange feeling it left in its wake as it flowed through her in waves, and yet there was an underlying jolt that for some reason made her think of Murial. Almost unbidden, Brianna’s mind conjured up images of the alluring redhead. Her porcelain pale skin, her piercing green eyes, the way her wild red hair flowed into dreadlocks as if fell down her back and, of course, the almost predatory grace of her movements. Murial du Sange, even from their first meeting, when she’d thought the woman nothing more than a risque club owner, Brianna could not help but be fascinated. Drawn in by those mesmerizing eyes, that slender yet perfectly curved body, the commanding, almost regal grace of her stance despite being mostly naked at the time. A part of her could not help but stand in awe of how fearlessly, unabashedly unashamed the woman was. Even now, remembering well the fierce blush that had seemed to cover her entire body at that moment, she could not help but note, with a certain wry amusement, that it was probably for the best that she’d been gagged on that first meeting and thus had been unable to make a complete fool of herself. ...

Part 1: The End “…more damn docs?” He checked the clock and sighed to himself, “Well, no rest for the wicked.” Seated behind his desk, the Major glanced through the blinds into the grassy field beyond. A steely eyed highly trained product of the Cold War, he was now a relic pushed into a corner office and forgotten by the very military he was once so devoted to. He manned a civilian/government contracting office which maintained obsolete radar systems. His body remained toned, but he was developing a paunch as he didn’t get to gym as often as he should, and the temples of his fine brown hair were starting to gray. His time was coming to an end, and he knew it. At least this last station was near the rocky wilds of the mountains where he could escape. He was on twenty-two years of service having been enlisted up to Sergeant, then commissioned officer in a college program. Major Justin was a consummate tactician and missed being amongst his fellow warfighters, almost all of them now faded away into civilian life, others buried under flags and white marble. ...

Part Thirteen 1 For Emma it felt like it had been a frustrating few weeks since spending that time with Kirsty, another woman who, like her, devoted some time playing the role of a meatgirl and had found enjoyment in doing so. This was after Emma had been trussed up and provided as a meatgirl package to Kirsty as part of a plan to catch out one of the employees who had been taking money and keeping it for himself. It was during this time with Kirsty that Emma had found out that she missed having her old meatgirl body markings, her grading stamp and registration barcoding etc, which she had previous removed when she was due to give birth, thinking that she would be embarrassed, or that maybe the staff would judge her on her choices. ...

I was asked to tell this story from my perspective some time ago, and seeing how I am presently suffering from a minor bout of writer’s block on and off, I thought it might make a good detour from the other purely fictional projects I have going on. I will tell this story as I remember it, and there is some fiction here too, but such is necessary to keep the real-world players from realizing it’s about them, as there were a few others involved in this particular one. I’ve played with the locations to keep consistency too, but this is more about actions, our actions, rather than the actual locations. ...

Pilgrimage I am lifted up by the Bliss which strengthens me, by the Bliss which sets me free, the Bliss to which I owe my all; by the Bliss which catches me when I stumble or I fall. Sister Elise felt wrong. She had been feeling wrong for the past few weeks; an underlying thrum that had permeated everything she had been doing, ever since that first trip deep into the convent to milk the Oracles. It had persisted throughout her next few visits to aid the Sacrist in their task of extracting and purifying the ingredients for holy water, even though the additional layers of rubber seemed to dull the sensation, and not even long periods of meditation seemed to be able to subdue it – although, Elise still enjoyed spending time huffing the luxurious scent of holy water, despite now knowing where it came from. ...

Baptism The Church of Bliss accepts all and makes them one. Anonymity is Bliss. Obedience is Bliss. Pain is Bliss. Pleasure is Bliss. We are Bliss. Elise had barely recovered from her first divine exposure to pure, unfiltered holy water – an experience which had left her stranded in an abyss of rubber-tinged ecstasy, decoupled from her psyche at a fundamental level as the tenets of the Church of Bliss crashed through her mind and cemented themselves as core aspects of her future – before she was pulled to her feet by a pair of fellow Sisters, and prepared for her next steps. The tube linking Elise’s mask to the supply of holy water was disconnected, and she couldn’t help but let out a faint moan of loss as the cold air of the cathedral filled her lungs, displacing the Bliss that had once infused her senses. Her senses slowly swam back into focus, and she regained her balance, standing under her own power instead of relying on her Sisters to hold her up. She glanced down at herself, struck by the differences in what she could see through the lenses of her new equipment, everything somehow tinted to be darker, except the highlights of the gleaming latex encasing her Sisters. It only served to make the contrast with her own, dull, as-yet unpolished rubber all the more stark. ...

Mortification Lay aside your passing pleasures, Look beyond what cannot last Luxuries are mere distractions, Mundane comforts soon are past. See in Bliss a grand horizon, And a life more rich and vast They came for her in the night, long after the faintly glowing lamps in the corridors outside her small chamber had been extinguished. Elise had just completed her evening rituals; clad in the heavy, transparent rubber of her nightgown, rising from the foot of her bed where she had been meditating. She had been contemplating the Bliss now almost constantly thrumming through her body along with the events of the last week and all that had happened since she had completed her Baptism. All of those thoughts were interrupted, though, as a knock came pounding at her door. ...

Communion What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the Bliss of rubber; What can make me whole again? Nothing but the Bliss of rubber! The cavernous hall of the cathedral was cold, but the fire burning in Elise’s core kept her more than warm enough as the Initiate slowly paced down the dimly lit central aisle towards the altar. It was quiet, reverent, only the click of her heeled boots and the creaking of her clothing faintly echoing through the space. Other than herself, and those she was going to meet, there was no one else visibly present – although, who could say how many people might be invisibly present, nestled into the small alcoves and crannies of the ancient building, enduring penance or rewards of all kinds. ...

Sacrament As we receive the Sacrament, Our thoughts are turned to thee, Mother of Bliss, who lived for us, Enduring for eternity. Forgiveness is a gift from Her We seek with pure intent. With hands now pledged to do thy work, We take the Sacrament. Elise’s paddle cracked down on the drone’s perfectly shined, rubber-coated rear, a bark of pain erupting from inside the featureless hood of the latex creature, its first sound since the beating began almost 10 minutes ago. A physical thrill went through Elise at the utterance, the newly anointed Sister finally understanding the appeal of being on the delivering end of this practice, as she raised her arm for another strike, another hit, another groan of Bliss. ...

Apotheosis O Blissful Mother, Lady of Rubber Embrace Sweetest garment a tailor ever made; In all doubts I fly to thee for guidance Mother tell me what am I to do. She spent what felt like an eternity that passed in an instant drifting in the void of pure rubber Bliss, deep beneath the cathedral that had once been her home. She was broken down by the fluid, reformed, split apart again and rebuilt, in both her body and her soul. She reached out with her mind when it was coherent enough for lucidity, touched the blindingly black glow of the other entity floating in there with her, recognised it, embraced it – the Mother of Bliss, here yet nowhere. The human she used to be, Sister Elise, optimistic and enthusiastic convert to the Church of Bliss, was stripped down to her bare essentials, reshaped according to the Mother’s desires and designs, before she was put back together. But not the same. She would never be the same again. She had been blessed. She had been… adopted. ...

1: Force Me Nel sighed loudly. This really was all her boyfriend’s fault! Now here she was, playing sex slave to him and his best friend for most of the weekend! It was a long story, she thought. It actually started about two months ago. Greg was her boyfriend, kinky as hell, and she appreciated that in a boyfriend. Don was Greg’s best buddy and someone Nel really valued as a friend, her best male friend after Greg. They ate lunch together every day at the school where they were all seniors and the three of them were pretty much inseparable. ...