(story continues from Summer Training 8)_ _Continued from part 8 Chapter 9 Kim was trouble. Even though Jeff was bone tired, he needed to check on his other houseguest. He slipped into his room and pulled on a pair of boxers. He also gathered up the bag that he had used in capturing his stepsister Steph; his ‘abduction’ kit. Not that he had plans to use any of the tape and rope inside it. He just wanted to be sure he had it IF needed. ...

This is a story that every person who loves being tied well, (and, in my case, wearing tight things) should find absolutely wonderful! My name is Blake, and, believe me, I am no stranger to this… I have loved the look and feel of being tied up while wearing tights and leotards ever since I was a little kid! I know there are lots of you that can probably relate to how this particularly fun, exciting and very sexy part of my life got its start. ...

continued from Ken’s Birthday Gift A recently divorced good friend of ours had taken a job transfer to another state to get away from his ex-wife, and to get a fresh start socially. We knew Ken in high school and were definitely Ken’s friends first. His ex-wife was OK with us, but just came along with Ken in our eyes. My name is Deb, and before Ken got married, he and my boyfriend, now husband, and I had some wild times together. (see cuckold) ...

It’s been quite a while since Kevin had me for dinner. Things were going pretty well between us, seemed like everyday he would peel some layer off me, exposing yet another emotion, freeing another inhibition. Sometimes it was scary. Sometimes it was exhilarating. Mostly though it just felt good. It helped of course to know that we weren’t alone in the world. Sometimes we’d sit together at the computer and surf various sites. We gathered our fair share of favourites, and sometimes we even copied what we saw. ...

It was late Friday night, and as always, I had looked forward to my boyfriend coming to my dorm after he was finished working for the week, so that we could have some close time, just the two of us. He had been telling me recently that he wanted to try something new on our little weekend get togethers, but refused to say what it was. I begged and begged, but still he kept mum. That is, until THIS weekend!!! That’s when everything changed. ...

Damned rain! Today again. The wipers ran wildly across the windshield, trying desperately to make some sight possible. This was yet another day when he couldn’t understand the thought behind interval wipers. Why didn’t the car manufacturers equip their cars with low, high, raging… With a deep sigh he pulled into his driveway, parking the car just in front of the garage. For a few minutes he sat there, gathering the courage to open the door and make the dash for his front door and the comfort inside the house. Finally he picked up his morning paper, placed it over his head and made the break. ...

continues from Red Faced and Speechless ‘How on earth am I going to get free?’ I asked myself for the tenth time. I had not learned anything from my youth, I still rushed in where wiser heads waited. Here I was gagged speechless and inescapably bound, soaked in sweat, praying nothing had happened to my friend, (already late) who was my only hope of freedom. There was no point having a back up anyway, because the way I had locked on these hinge cuffs, they were not coming off without help! ...

Caroline was 41, 11 years older than me, recently divorced from her first and only love, and HOT. She was hot but also the type who didn’t have any self confidence – until recently. She always wore boots and skirts, and always caught me looking at them in the office. I’m pretty sure that’s how she trapped me…… Caroline always kept spare footwear under her desk in the office, usually 1 or 2 pairs of boots. Not sure why, but most women store stuff like that there. Being a self confessed boot fetishist I wanted to see them up close, smell them, maybe even try them on. Caroline wasn’t big, just curvy for 5 ft 7. One day she wore a shiny black patent knee boot with 6 inch heels, zip down the back and had a pointed toe. And she left them under her desk after work, so I decided to stay late and see what they were like. ...

Synthia: Part 1 Jay decided he would hit the club as it was Saturday night and he hadn’t anything better to do. He liked the music, dancing, and atmosphere of the Gee-Spot and tried to go as often as possible, though, he usually left depressed, lonely, and drunk. Jay hoped tonight would be different but he wasn’t willing to lay a wager on it. Jay was an OK looking gent that would never be known as a ‘Lady Killer’ without actually becoming a serial killer that preyed on women. He didn’t have the ‘Tall’ part down at the height of 5’ 7”; the ‘Dark’ eluded him due to the strawberry-blonde follicles which grew from every part of his body hair normally grew; and, the ‘Handsome’; well, only the girls that thought Ron Howard was hot would find him equally attractive, as, he could almost be his doppelgänger; only Jay was much younger and looked like the Ron Howard who played Richie and Happy Days. ...

Allison stretched her arms as she wandered around her bedroom trying to decide what to wear for her day working down at the local antique store. She had started working at the store three years ago and found it a fun place to work with all the numerous and different items that came and went from the business. However, Allison also found the stories that customers told about the items they brought to the shop to be almost as fascinating as the items themselves. For example, one fellow brought in a few weeks ago that looked like a painting originating from 18th or 19th century Europe. The man said it was originally painted by an artist depicting hell if it was run by cuddly white rabbits dressed as demons. He was offered $500,000 US by an art collector but thought it might fetch more if displayed at the store for sale. However, when Allison looked more closely at the painting, she saw there was evidence of red crayons being used on part of the artwork that made it relatively worthless. The man stormed angrily out of the gallery after smashing the art into a million pieces in extreme frustration. Allison shook her head as she mentally added his reactions to all the angry and blustery customers of the past. The dark haired beauty had just picked out her outfit for the day when she received a call from Mr. Bronson, the owner of the store. He had just purchased a large quantity of antiques from a Czech collector sight unseen and he had no room to store it all between the store and his own house. The owner asked Allison if it would be possible for her to store a few of the pieces at her place temporarily until he had a chance to get everything appraised. He even offered her a bonus if she wanted to appraise the items she received as his way of showing his appreciation. After a moment or two of hesitation, Allison agreed and told Mr. Bronson that she would come into work after the items were delivered. “A bonus for doing my regular work at home! You can’t get much better of a way to make money.. just like all those annoying spam emails promise… Ha! " the brunette said with a wry smile as she headed back to the bedroom to finish changing. ...

The phallus penetrated into her and began to pulse. She could only gasp as it moves the walls inside her to its own rhythm. A second phallus touched her ass, testing her resistance, even as the first began to grow, moving slightly, stimulating her with uncanny understanding of her unspoken desire. With her arms and legs clamped outright, she had no recourse but to take what ever was next, giving the machine full freedom over her entire body. She had not thought that this could have ever been possible, but now, she knew better. Carelessness had brought this fate upon her, she had been too confident around the equipment, a little too complaisant about the danger. ...

(story continues from Take it Like a Sheep!) Chapter 2: Julia on a Stick Julie had known animals for years. She had worked around them all her life, and loved her job working with them. She knew all of the aspects of the work, knew the biology, held all the vetenarian certifications, but before the “incident” she had never known she held a desire for autoerotic fantasies. It had been three weeks since that day when she had been “raped” by the automatic equipment programmed at her very own hand, and not a day went by when she didn’t think of the experience, or how to recreate it… but there were so many things that went right that one time, lucky, purely lucky, that nobody had been around, and even luckier, that her body happened to be compatible with the machine, and not too much different than a sheep’s dimensions. Maybe it was best she not think too far into it. ...

Part 1: “Of One Mind” = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = It’s so nice to be insane No one asks you to explain Radio by your side, Angie Baby Angie Baby, you’re a special lady Living in a world of make-believe Well, maybe… Well, maybe… From the song “Angie Baby” written by Alan O’Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974 ...

(story continues from Tales From The Psych Ward 1: Of One Mind) Part 2: I’m Baaaaack! To make a long story short, people who don’t know me very well think I have catatonic epilepsy. The shrinks think it is catatonic schizophrenia. In other words they think that I totally lose contact with reality and go off into some fantasy world in my head. What none of them seem to understand is that it isn’t fantasy, and it isn’t in my head. It is reality, my reality - and part of my reality includes occasionally going catatonic in public. ...

(story continues from Tales From The Psych Ward 2: I’m Baaaaack!) Part 3: The Mind of a Witness I guess if you are going to have a catatonic episode, there is no better place to have it than in your psychiatrist’s office. Especially if he doesn’t really believe what happens. Dr. Henderson had just said that he thought that we had been making a lot of good progress over the past several weeks when suddenly I was gone. He thought I was catatonic, but actually I was in an alley downtown. This sort of thing happened all the time with Kelly, but this time I wasn’t Kelly. I was someone else. I think her name was Rachel. I was Rachel and I was being raped and murdered. ...

(story continues from Tales From The Psych Ward 3: The Mind of a Witness) Part 4: Cassandra I was “in house” after a security guard went ape shit and called 911 when I went catatonic while standing in a clothing isle in the store. Maybe if I had been in the men’s section, or at least not in front of a full display of female thong underwear, he wouldn’t have been so upset. The fact that most of my clothing suddenly disappeared may also have had something to do with it. I came out of it totally OK and lucid, but once the EMTs and the police were involved, a short stay at the ward was inevitable. ...

(story continues from Tales From The Psych Ward 4: Cassandra) Part 5: The Pony Farm I was finally back at my apartment and things were going pretty well for me - pretty well meaning that I hadn’t done anything in public that would get me sent back to the ward. Dr. Henderson was trying another medication and he said that he was “very hopeful.” I think that what he is actually hopeful for is a big paycheck if he and the drug companies can come up with something that will control “seizure-based schizophrenia.” That is what they are calling it now that they have both Cassie and me as “confirmed case studies.” ...

(story continues from Tales From The Psych Ward 5: The Pony Farm) Part 6: We Are Not Alone Pony prancing up the middle of the street naked resulted in me being sent back to in-house treatment until I was once again “no longer a threat to myself or others around me.” Dr. Henderson testified at the committal hearing. I’m not sure if he was for the defense or the prosecution. He explained that when I am in one of my states, I am not an overt threat to others or myself, but I am not aware of the reality around me. Thus, I could significantly injure myself or others. In his most expert-witness-called-to-testify voice, he explained to the judge, “During these episodes, he almost seems to be in his own personal reality.” ...

(story continues from Tales From The Psych Ward 6: We Are Not Alone) Part 7: Again a Witness Detective Antonio Mendes sat at his desk reorganizing his notes on the difficult, high-publicity case, that the papers called “The Roadside Rapist.” He was trying to word things properly before he put his report into the computerized records system. When the new system first went into place he had learned the hard way that what you wrote in a notebook in your pocket and what you wrote in a report form on-line were not the same thing. None of the higher-ups ever read your personal notebook. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tammy gets a Scare) Tales of Green Valley 7: Un vieil ami surprend Tammy [An old friend surprises Tammy] After Tammy’s almost last experience, that had almost put a crushing end to her life, not to mention upsetting the boyfriend she lived with, she was being good. She might fantasize about being garbage, but she wasn’t going to trick Jack into unknowingly throwing her away again. In fact, at his insistence, she was going to spend an entire week away from Green Valley. She had boarded the 11 am train and after a quick light lunch at a small bistro nearby, checked into her hotel. Part of a famous chain, the Hillstone was right across the street from a new mall. The mall was the big city’s latest attempt to attract people to the business district on weekends and evenings. ...