(story continues from I, Masochist - Chapter 4: Carol) Chapter 5: Diane & David Chapter five of eight is W’s interview with “Diane and David.” * * * * * * * * * * * * Diane’s first words as she came through the door to Shelly’s apartment were, “I hope you don’t mind that I brought David. He’s my twin brother. Dr. Collins only wanted to talk to women, but David is as much a pain slut as I am - maybe more so. I thought maybe his perspective would be helpful.” ...

(story continues from I, Masochist - Chapter 5: Diane & David) Chapter 6: Ellen Chapter six of eight is W’s interview with “Ellen” * * * * * * * * * * * * WARNING SPECIFIC TO CHAPTER SIX OF EIGHT This particular chapter deals with child abuse and the adult fall out from such abuse. Although it is essential to my look at masochism, it is not absolutely essential to the story. If you would be upset by the depiction of cruelty to minors (not sexual) then I would advise skipping this chapter. ...

(story continues from I, Masochist - Chapter 6: Ellen) Chapter 7: Francine Chapter seven of eight is W’s interview with “Francine” * * * * * * * * * * * * For some reason, I was really looking forward to my interview with Francine. Part of it was because it would be my last interview, but mostly it was because I knew she had to be ‘bright eyes,’ the very blue-eyed girl whom I had helped push into orgasm that first night I watched Shelly’s performance art presentation of “I, Masochist.” She had been practically begging for more pain so that she could cum. I gave it to her and she gave quiet a performance with her screaming, thrashing orgasm. I knew that her story would be exceptionally interesting. ...

Part Two Ian’s latest discovery was an affront to his manhood, and his ego. This bondage business was not as easy as it appeared. So far Kiersty had taken less than 15 minutes to squirm out of his attempts at tying her up. He had not counted on her trying to, let alone being able to escape. He thought she wanted to be tied up. “I do,” she told him, “but it has to be real. I have had many years of doing it myself and being able to get out at anytime. I now want to be completely helpless.” ...

* If things could go this way… by Chryslerman Let me start with a small history. I grew up in a very religious household, and knew by the time I was 14 or 15 that I was different. I knew I liked being in various bondage positions and knew that I liked men, and had a slightly feminine side. I had a friend that I met when I turned 15, she was 4 years older than me, and had graduated the year before. Our parents were friends and we got along as really good friends too. As I grew up, she and I could spend time together without there being any sexual tension, so it was inevitable that we got together and got married. ...

Ignacio was at the point of death. The doctor had said that he would not last the night, but privately thought that the end would come within the hour. The few family members, and even fewer friends, who had visited him during the previous weeks were not as concerned about his health or welfare as they were about the contents of his will. He had not done much with his life; he had inherited a fortune from his grandfather but had lived most of his years as a miser and a recluse. He was reputed to be very wealthy; people thought that his grandfather’s money must have multiplied since he seemed to have spent so little, his only indulgence being an occasional prostitute. He would have had more, but they seldom expressed any desire to return after their first visit. ...

Damn! She stumbled and almost fell. “Hey girl, take it easy!” She said to herself. Why did she do these things to herself? And the answer came immediately, because of the challenge, because it was fun and, God, how she loved to be this way. She had to hurry. Time was running out. Already the patches of sky she could see through the trees were a dull blue and soon it would be night. Then she would be in trouble. Not only would she not be able to see but the mosquitoes would come out and, naked as she was, she would be a tender feast for the little bastards. ...

Part 1: There has been a mistake here. “Look, there has clearly been a mistake here” “Madame, allow me to assure you that you are mistaken. Your order has been processed exactly as you placed it. I have it on the computer in front of me” “And I assure you that this is not what I ordered” “Madame, I have to tell you that you have received exactly what you ordered. 1 large size child’s doll. Snow White type. And that is all you will be charged for” ...

(story continues from In the Land of the Dolls) Part 2: Making the Bells Ring My arms were still tied behind my back, tight ropes fastened about my wrists, and another loop had been added above my elbows to force my straining arms into a column of knot-muscled agony. There was a tight collar about my throat, and from the three gleaming steel D rings ran long lines of rope that drove me forwards ever forwards to a fate the finer details of which I could only guess at. ...

(story continues from In the Land of the Dolls 2: Making the Bells Ring) Part 3: They Came in the Night They came for me in the night. I had been asleep on my straw covered palette when they came, but even had I been awake and ready for the the result would have been exactly the same. I was awoken by the warm caress of a soft leather collar about my throat, and as my mind darted upwards from the darkness of sleep I could feel other straps uncoiling about my naked body. ...

(story continues from In the Land of the Dolls 3: They Came in the Night) Part 4: Out in the Garden My twin sister and I were curled up together in our stall, The thick straw on the ground insulated us from the cold flags. Our arms curled about each other and our heads so close together our long red hair was mixed together where we lay. Our limbs had grown muscular and tanned under their regime of exercise and sexual torment. A regime that they controlled ruthlessly. The Dolls. ...

I’m taking some more photographs of you in my studio where my assistant, Duke, is arranging various props and set pieces. He’s a young man in his early twenties, handsome and eager to learn the business. You’re dressed in a blouse and wrap-around skirt. As he works around you, setting things up, I notice you watching him closely, then I see you bend over slightly to let your breasts brush lightly against his arm. When he looks up at you, you give him a smile, pouting your lips in a seductive way. ...

A Sally West Misadventure Part 1 Queen’s Bush was quite close to semi-rural Surrey, to farms and riding stables, to big golf courses and pubs called “The Haywain” and “The Cunning Poacher”, but the district itself was highly built-up with only a couple of decidedly small parks and Wicklow Wood for green lungs. Wicklow Wood had once been Wicklow’s Wood (the connection to Ireland being limited to the surname of the wealthy farmer who owned it) within the larger expanse of Leggeworth Common, but the common was long gone and it was widely supposed that Wicklow Wood had survived only because it divided the genteel community of The Village from the tower blocks and grimy yellow brick of the main part of Queen’s Bush. ...

Not the terrible movie, but inspired by the terrible movie… Indecent Proposal: A Second Honeymoon For The Rental Wife “So let me get this straight, you guys have talked and you have consented, that is your willing to give your permission for your friend to borrow me for a little trip he has to take.” “It sounds so bad when you say it like that” my husband Mike pleaded. “He is after all ‘our’ friend and not ‘my’ friend, to be semantically correct.” ...

Carol’s eyes burrowed into Jason’s back. The tatty, off-white T-shirt was irrelevant; it was his tautness that interested her. Her stare wandered down his tall, well-built frame and lingered on the outline of his butt, before idly taking in those powerful thighs. His frayed shorts didn’t cover much. She sat on a stool behind the bar, an elbow leaning on the polished oak, her chin nestling in one palm. This was her pub, or almost hers. Half belonged to Alan – her old man. At fifty-two, she’d been with him a lifetime. ...

(story continues from Indiscretion) Chapter 2 In her solitary misery, she didn’t hear the latch open. “What’s the matter luv? What’s wrong? Did you slip or something?” The voice was concerned. Carol looked up and caught the cellar man’s worried gaze, “I thought you were on holiday Ken, what are you doing here?” She forgot her distress for a moment. “Well luv, I’ll be seventy next month – I need to pack it in. I popped round to talk about it, then I heard the other bloke let you down this week – I thought you might need a bit of help.” Ken was a kind man. Mostly retired, he only did the odd day here and there. ...

(story continues from Indiscretion 2) Chapter 3 It was raining in sheets and the winter daylight had just faded, although the overcast sky had hastened the darkness. The wet pavement shone with the reflected beams of yellow streetlights. Jack’s grey Jag pulled up outside his trucking yard and he climbed out, pausing to click the lock. Erith, a bleak town edging South East London, wasn’t a good area. Holding a newspaper over his head, he quickly made for a door in the corrugated iron fence. Pushing it shut behind him, he ran towards the porta-cabin office - his Italian leather shoes splashing in muddy puddles and crunching over gravel. ...

Author’s note: This is my first attempt at posting a story so any constructive suggestions are welcomed. You can contact me at Maid2Btied at gmail dot com. The following is a fantasy of mine. My field of view was dominated by a cock. It was a quite magnificent one, of a size that would fill me to my limit. I’d been in a bit of dry spell in terms of lovers and hadn’t seen a real penis in ages. The skin on the head was stretched tightly at the end of an erection. Veins stood out along the pink skin of the shaft. The whole penis wavered slightly in front of my face as if probing for my mouth. I wanted to reach up, wrap my hand around the thick rod and stroke it gently while guiding it into my parted lips. But thick coils of tightly tied ropes pinioning my arms securely behind my back prevented this. The bindings had been put there by Ingrid, my room mate from university days. ...

The furniture store was dark and quiet as an empty church as Elizabeth pulled up in back of it. The whole block was that way. Not a creature was stirring and the thick blanket of snow muffled what little noise there was. The traffic light on the corner was blinking it’s yellow signal to no one. However, what did she expect at three o’clock in the morning on a Monday. ...

“My God, I must be crazy!” thought Nick. “I’m sitting here in a stranger’s house wearing a blindfold, for crying in a bucket.” He moved to take off the scarf that covered his eyes but jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Not so fast, young man. You’ve come this far, now you have to go the rest of the way.” the husky, female voice whispered in his ear. Nick sat still, fear and anticipation, in equal parts, flooding though his body. ...