Bagged

The old Victorian house on Elmwood Lane had an air of quiet abandonment, its wraparound porch sagging slightly under the weight of years, and the faded blue shutters creaking in the gentle breeze. The elderly owner had passed away peacefully in her sleep half a year ago, leaving no immediate family to claim the place. The real estate agency, eager to flip it quickly, had contracted Nadia’s cleaning crew to strip it bare—remove every trace of the woman’s life, bag up the belongings, and leave it gleaming for potential buyers. ...

Part 18 The Drone, clad all in rubber and being remote-controlled through its work, felt a coolness on the outside of its suit, and realized that the rain was beginning to truly pelt down. Water ran in rivulets over the bags of garbage and cascaded down its visor. Given that there was zero part of Alex’s body exposed to the elements, it made the work more enjoyable, and the rain acted as natural cooling. ...

Part Two – Rehabilitation The bag jostles around you as the car rumbles along, the trunk’s confined space amplifying every bump and turn. The plastic clings to your skin, still damp with the grime of the dumpster, and the faint musk of your earlier indiscretions lingers in the air. Your wrists and ankles remain bound, the duct tape chafing slightly with each shift, but you’ve stopped fighting it—resignation’s settled in, mixed with a flicker of something else. Curiosity, maybe? Dread? Or that same dark thrill you can’t quite shake? You’re not sure anymore; the lines are blurring. ...

I knew I was captivated by her after the third date. We had no trouble talking about a dozen subjects for hours, and her eyes shone with that delightful mix of intelligence and mischief. When Janet revealed she was kinky and a dominatrix, that just excited me further. I’d had some experience with light bondage and spanking, and we discussed fetishes for the rest of the evening. That was when Janet offered to show me her playroom, and I quickly agreed. She had an excellent if simple setup in the basement: St. Andrew’s cross, spanking bench, massage table with tie-down points and a cage underneath. An electric winch dangled from a beam for suspensions, and the floor was non-slip foam with a drain in the center. I know looking at it all made me a little flushed and I was already imagining myself under her tender mercies. ...

32: Normal Girl Falls Into Magical Traps “Celine, I would like to remind you that I need assistance with the inventory in the attic,” said Chloe, tapping on a clipboard with blank lists. She was wearing athletic shoes and comfortable black leggings, as well as a white spandex shirt with the C&T logo on it. Her boss gave her a sideways glance as she was busy analyzing data and needed to concentrate. ...

The courtroom is dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. I stand before the bench, the polished wood gleaming under the stern gaze of Judge Emma. Her reputation precedes her—whispers of her ironic punishments have spread like wildfire since the government unleashed these “incentive judges” to tackle petty crimes in an overcrowded system. She adjusts her robes, her piercing eyes locking onto you as the faint hum of the crowd fades into silence. The gavel rests in her hand, poised for judgment. ...

The first Thursday of November had arrived. Here I was, another dreary start to the week at university. I hated it here, but having finally made the decision to aim for my dream job after years of holding back, I opted to attend here and begin my studies for veterinary medicine. It meant leaving my home town, leaving my friends behind, but it would be worth it, even if I hated the general atmosphere here, full of immature students engrossed in a culture of drinking, vomiting and trying to gain as many sexual partners as possible. ...

Chapter 4 Jen (the new version based on Princess) hadn’t done any transformation for a while and she had been thinking about some of the friends she had learned about and how she might enjoy the power the machine offered. She wanted to bring some of them down a peg or two for fun. She could have some real fun with them if she put her mind to it! Jane Jen decided to invite Jen’s best friend Jane round for a drink one evening. She was a beautiful blonde woman, with amazing eyes and she always accented them with the most amazing eye makeup. At college she always managed to pull the boys with her huge sparkling smile and athletic body. ...

Wenda’s Paint and Cabinetry While on their usual morning walk, Wenda exclaimed, “Well, I must say, Lloyd looks like a changed man! He seems so much more… confident these days! You working him more now that he’s working himself less?” With a grin and a blush Jenny replied, “Something like that. I’m just glad he’s decided to give up Parliament and get back into private practice. He’s so much happier now.” ...

Part 3 Now that Sam’s “needs” had come back, we made the most of it. From that first night she’d gotten herself bound up in her new rubber catsuit, she had been insatiable. She’d slept tightly bound in rubber and trash bags that first night, and then stayed in most of the next morning. I’d taken her hood off and given her some water and a bite to eat, but then I gave her a choice, she could either get out and take a break until tomorrow, or she could stay my trash girl for the rest of the day. ...

Part 2 “Hey babe?” I heard Sam’s voice echo down the hallway. “Yeah?” I called back, and when she didn’t answer, got up from my computer and walked down towards the bedroom where she was calling me from. “So… don’t be mad,” I heard Samantha say in a meek voice As I walked in, I saw why. Sam was sitting in the closet, completely clad in her new black rubber catsuit up to her neck, with a black plastic bag gathered up around her. Her arms were crossed up close to her neck, with leather cuffs locked to a ring on her collar. ...

“You’re worthless!” She screamed at him, pushing him to the floor. It was no normal Thursday, but he knew that she was done with him. He knew that she no longer wanted him, for he was unable to give her what she needed rather he was completely reliant on her; and now she wanted no more of him. Finding her above him, a sudden jolt of pain strikes his ribcage, her feet kicking him senselessly. Then a solid blow lands to the genitals, sheer pain overcomes him, he screams. “Why don’t you shut up you worthless object” she snarled, no longer even a human he had been downgraded to merely an object. Then she lands a strike to the head, he blacks out. ...

By the 3rd time, I’d realized there was a trend starting… But I suppose I should start at the beginning. My fetishes had always run on the strange side, still “reddit normal” I guess, but not the sort of thing that the average romance novel was about. Rubber and bondage sure, but with a flair for total enclosure and a bunch of flavors of objectification like forniphilia (that one where you’re turned into / treated like furniture, Gord was a mad genius). Way deep down, I had a mild obsession with trash play, which is exactly what it sounds like, being bagged up and tossed aside. I knew it was weird, and while I wasn’t against getting messy, I wasn’t really into the gross/dangerous stuff, so I didn’t really look to make it more than a fantasy and a bit of solo-play here and there. ...

Part Two I am awoken from my slumber by the guards as they unstrapped the spreader bar from my leather ankles. Ilsa removes the ball gag from my mouth and inserts a cigarette between my lips and lights it for me. I take a drag and blow smoke out of my mouth, feeling relaxed. The guards unhooked the chain from the armbinder as Ilsa unstrapped the straps on the armbinder and slid off my arms. ...

Part Eleven After the birth of her new baby girl, Emma spent all her waking hours devoted to taking care of the new arrival; her thoughts of her time as just another meatgirl now put well back in her mind, and when not taking care of the baby she spent time working on getting her body back into shape. There were the rare and wonderful times that, while the baby was asleep, content after feeding from her, that she and Nick got to spend some alone time either playing with each other in bed or with her tightly bound to the bed and available to him to use her. She liked those times and recalled the many hours and days that she had spent bound up previously, bringing back some very happy memories as well as the long-forgotten bad ones, but she didn’t focus on those; that was a whole world away now. She was quite content to stay home and take care of Nick and the baby that had come into their lives. ...

Part 2: The Rubber Facility Chapter 7: Sealed The doll lays alone in the dark room, still gagged, plugged and chained to the rubber bed. Sore from the ravages of the clientele, it thinks back to before it had lost its identity. It was only the night before when they had met in that dingy bar, it seemed like so long ago, another life even. As it begins to relax and try to nod off to sleep, the door opens with a jolt and in walk thing 1 and 2, one of whom is carrying a clear pvc bag, folded neatly in his arms. As they approach, A speaker springs to life with a crackle, followed by Mistress’ s sultry voice. “you did very well on your first shift, but being a new toy and all, I think it’s only appropriate that you be stored in some nice plastic packaging”. As she speaks, the things unfasten the doll’s bindings, allowing it to lower its arms and close its legs. ...

Jackie & Wendy have a small unique dungeon set up where they entertain their submissive clients and attend to their needs. One of those clients happens to be Denise, who was also enjoying a part-time relationship with Jackie & Wendy, even though she was a client of the two. They all three enjoyed more of a sexual relationship rather than just a business arrangement between them. But it was always strictly business when they had Denise bound and gagged; she was their little submissive plaything, and they practised on her for whatever they needed to perfect before acting out on a paying customer. ...

Compulsion* _This was going to be more fun than anything I’d tried before now. It would lend a whole new meaning to the term “Dumpster Diving”, at least for me. If I were objective, looking at myself from the viewpoint of a dispassionate, disinterested observer, then I’d have to conclude I was certifiably insane to carry through on my plan. Maybe I was crazy, but it wasn’t going to stop me._Why did I do it?* What was it in my head that drove me to become human garbage, to be tossed aside as unwanted trash? Most of the time I felt normal, but every so often that compulsion came upon me. Maybe it was the feel of the smooth, clingy plastic against my hand when opening a fresh kitchen trash bag. Or maybe it was some kind of guilt complex. Whatever the reason, I had to wrap myself up in a neat package inside one of those bags, preferably surrounded by other bags of equally unwanted refuse. ...

“So, you state, Ms. Hartman, that you reported the discrepancy immediately?” “Objection, your honor. The defense attorneys are badgering the witness. Ms. Hartman clearly stated that she reported her findings to the head of accounting, then the CEO, but was fired before reporting to the board. The notice of termination is on record, as is the board meeting date two days later. The head of accounting tried and convicted of malfeasance, fraud, and a host of other fiscal crimes awaits sentencing. May I redirect, your honor?” ...

Oof! “What happened to my head?” I groan, while gradually getting my vision back. “I feel like someone hit me…” Starting to recover from the stars circling my head, I look up to see my girlfriend with a golf club. A nine-iron to be exact. “What’s the big idea…” I start to moan out before she screams back “Silence! How dare you bring another girl into our apartment! Into MY home!” The scowl across her brows shows she’s clearly pissed off. ...

Bored. I was so unbelievably bored. Today was particularly dull, as many of my days often are. School was as monotonous as ever for me, I usually got top grades, and nothing challenged me. I never really participated in any sports teams, preferring to keep to myself, and though I had my share of friends, I was often by myself with just my thoughts and my laptop to keep me company, by choice rather than circumstance. Oh, but where are my manners? My name is Sarah, I’m 24 years old and I live in Toronto, Canada. Life in the city is pretty good, but dreadfully boring most of the time, and the nightclubs and restaurants and other entertainment available rarely did much to quell that boredom. There was one thing though that did however: the garbage. ...

My online hookup profile contains photos showing my young twink boy appearance, a big dick and swimmers physique. At 5'3" and 110 pounds soaking wet my profile gets plenty of attention. A portion of my profile reads… Relaxed, Boyish and Respectful. Responsible boy permanently attached in an open relationship. Not into drugs, just a little weed. I am exploring new avenues of degradation play and seeking kinky encounters with dudes exhibiting good attitudes. ...

It’s around 7am when Stu approaches the back of the building, which has a large dumpster next to a raised loading bay and a couple smaller bins close by. He stands next to one of the bins as he knocks on the door and waits. About 8 seconds pass, when he raises his hand to knock again, only for the door to open, revealing a young, attractive brunette in her mid 20’s. She looks Stu up and down and says “Can I help you?” ...

Bill and his wife Ruth were retired and living in an apartment complex. They had sold their home but weren’t ready for assisted living. “No old folks’ home for me!”, said Bill every time Ruth suggested it. “But Bill, we would have neighbors our age, not all these noisy, disrespectful young people.” Bill just smiled thinking about the 20-something neighbor girl who liked to leave her curtains open while she did her naked yoga. And even when she had parties with more than one guy. Parties that usually turned into gang bangs. Bill and Ruth had separate bedrooms and Bill’s faced that girl’s windows, so Ruth only heard her party noise and saw nothing. Bill had been married to Ruth for years – and had suffered through her nagging and complaints for most of them. ...

My phone chirps its obnoxious alarm while vibrating on the bedside table. “This is getting old,” I think as I shut it off. I contemplate staying in bed. It would be so easy to just close my eyes and drift back to sleep. I can’t bring myself to do that though because I haven’t decided what I actually want to do. I shuffle into the kitchen in just my bathrobe, and turn on the coffee. While it brews I pull up the app on my phone that measures your vitals. Your heart rate is slower than normal, so you must be sleeping. I switch to the app that controls the vibrator in your ass and the one pressed to your sex. “If i’m awake, you’re going to be awake,” I murmur - letting the vibrators do their thing for a bit before shutting them off. You may have cum in that short period of time - but I hope the experience just left you surprised and frustrated. ...

He looked at the rubber bondage mitt in his hand and wondered. Could this be a sort of loose chastity device? It didn’t take long before he was roughly trying to stuff his (now quite rigid) cock into the thing, struggling to get his balls past the wrist buckle. He took a breath and contemplated what he was doing. If he managed to get this on a buckled, he could even feed a lock through the hole in the buckle, and lock it on. He could still play with himself, but only through the thick latex which muted the sensation. ...

Part Two With little choice I left Ken’s side to check on my future husband, knowing this was something I had to do myself. Ken was nearly asleep anyway with all the energy he had expended, and truth be told I would rather have been sleeping myself - or for that matter doing almost anything else - rather than inviting this looming conflict that surely must be coming. I also had a mess to contend with, not to mention the lingering taste of Ken in my mouth, but my bound boyfriend had to come first. ...

Cindy Heartstamp was a nice looking 21-year-old girl but unlike most girls her age she was very short but that did not stop her from enjoying herself. You see, Cindy had a very special fetish: she was enjoying garbage and wanted overall to be treated like a useless piece of trash. One day she was out eating her dinner at a decent restaurant and she decided that she wanted to go play in the restaurant bathroom’s trash bin. She went inside and waited to see that the coast was clear and when she went inside she saw a row of toilet stalls at the opposite side of the stalls. She also saw many washing sinks and her main goal for the time, the big trash bin by the hand blower. She said to herself with a giggle, now’s the time to fulfill my biggest dream. ...

Continues from part two Part Three: The Barn After the events of last week were the two of them had left me naked, bound and gagged inside a trunk and then stored away in a public storage facility, they had been forced to leave me there overnight as they had missed the closing time of the facility unintentionally, but to me, it was what they had planned for me all along, and I had enjoyed my night secured inside the trunk, and even more when they finally retrieved yours truly the next day from the locker. Once they safely got the trunk back home, they opened to find me still tightly trussed up, and with my arousal in spite of everything still high, I insisted that they take me for their pleasure and keeping me their bound plaything, using me however they wanted, my special reward for them both leaving me as a trussed-up package overnight. It was only after they had sated their and my own desires, that they told me the whole story of what had occurred. ...

Jack had known he was kinky for years, but it had never really been something he was able to explore. He had always been fascinated with the idea of being helplessly bound and gagged, to the extent where the more bindings and the more layers that were added, the more intense he found the idea. Over time, this led him to discover the idea of being locked away in a trunk or zipped up in a bag – he even found websites where people fantasised about being taped up in plastic bags, completely enclosed, and found himself fantasising about that as well. He could only imagine what it would be like - to be tightly bound, gagged and bagged, sealed up and treated like an object or a piece of luggage. ...

I’m inside a dumpster right now. Yes, you read that right. A garbage dumpster. It’s about three quarters of the way full with black binbags. Plus myself. It’s one of the dumpsters around my university campus. Why am I in here? Your question is valid. I’m awaiting collection from the garbage truck. Just like the rest of the trash inside here. Yes, you read that right as well. You must be thinking I’ve lost the plot. Or just plain stupid. But then again a part of you probably wants to know the reason for this. ...

“Hi Tracy, I hope dinner is ready I’m really hungry.” “Yes, and it’s your favourite.” “What liver and onion?” “It is, sit down and I will bring it out.” She does and sits down on the sofa while he eats. “I thought you liked it as well.” “I do but I want to play trash girl tonight so I can’t eat in case I spoil it and want to go to the loo at the wrong moment.” ...

Warning: Death Scene She received a payment last night, so she knew today was going to involve a special pick up. Driving her usual route, she reflected on how it had become routine. They were just more garbage to dump, crush, and haul away; all neatly bagged up, fates sealed by the presence of at least one ribbon. Part of her was mildly surprised at how easy it was for her, even the first time. The money was too good for her to say no - and once she followed her impulse to run the packer there was no turning back. ...

As always when it comes to this sort of kinky thing… don’t try this at home (or at school, for that matter). And if there’s a sexy janitor in your life, find a way to tell him you like him without going to the sort of trouble Tina did… This story features incredibly unrealistic and impractical forms of technology and trash disposal systems, for the sake of being that much kinkier. ...

Authors note: The images for this story can be found on my deviantart page Chapter 1: Kidnapping experience Let’s start with a little bit of background. My name is Steve, I’m 21-year-old student living in a small city with my parents. Since my childhood, I always have enjoyed practicing tie-up games, during childhood games with my mother or later with self-bondage experiences as a teenager. I’ve been in few relationships, but not a single one of my girlfriends were up to practicing these kinds of games. ...

As always – enjoy the story, and do not try this sort of trash play at home. Stella’s biggest fantasy was to be treated like trash. Now, most girls, when they say that, they probably mean they want to be humiliated or talked down to… but she meant it literally. Her favorite thing in the world, especially after a long, exhausting session in bed with her boyfriend Ethan, was to have him tie her up, gag her, and then wrap her in a trash bag and treat her like literal trash. Like after he’d had his way with her, she was just some worthless thing to be disposed of. She couldn’t explain why it turned her on so much, but she couldn’t deny that getting “trashed” was one of the most pleasurable sensations she could feel. ...

You’ll be wearing a thong back leotard, mouth tightly packed with rags, a ball gag locked around your head pushing them further into your throat and duct tape wrapped around all of it making the gag impossibly tight. Your eyes will be watering as you fight to prevent choking on the rags - by now you’re scared, this is really happening and you can’t stop it. No way out and no turning back. ...

Although everything ends up happily for this story’s characters (despite that seeming unlikely at some points!), trash play can be quite dangerous. Don’t try to replicate anything found in this story for real. Though, some of what is described is unrealistic enough it really CAN’T be replicated, so there’s also that. Enjoy! I hope at least some readers will enjoy this as much as Robert and Michael did… Robert and Michael looked out over the processing floor. There was trash everywhere, most of it bagged up in hoppers and sitting on conveyor belts all waiting for the two guys to fire up the machines which would destroy it. But today, there was something more—something special. One of the trash bags, one of the ones on the conveyor right over there, had a very special piece of trash in it. Her name was Lindsey. The guys had met her the previous night, at the bar, and had taken her home. It had been a long, lovely, lustful night, but things didn’t get really interesting until she found out that they worked in the disposal industry. ...

David and Sharon have an unusual relationship, Sharon loves playing the pet, and she is good at it most weekends. Sharon is a dog taped up in a doggy style, but she would really like to go to the next level, and Dave wants that too. He gets home a bit later than normal. “Sharon, I have a surprise for you I think you will love it.” “Give me a minute, I need to go to the loo I will be with you shortly.” ...

story continued from part two Part 3 DING DONG. The sounds seems familiar. DING DONG. Ochsianna wakes up in the bed, half dressed. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she mumbles, “Must have drifted off when I came in last night.” DING DONG. Who could that be? Not fully awake, she stumbles into the hallway to the front door. Without even checking the peephole, she opens it. Her eyes get big when she sees Roger standing there. He has an equally shocked look on his face. She starts to say something when Roger asks loudly, “Where’s Patton?” It is at this point, her heart falls in her stomach: she didn’t change back… she is still a woman. And to top it off, my best friend (well, Patton’s best friend) is standing in the doorway. “Uh,” she stutters, “He’s not here… now.” Roger takes that as an invitation and barges right in. He starts looking around the place skeptical. She closes the door as she follows him slowly thinking as quickly as her sleepy-now-awake mind will let her. Roger surveys the small apartment quickly then steps up to Ochsianna. “How much did you get for the whole night, slut?” His voice is just dripping condemnation on her. She tries to straighten her shoulders and rebut him, but no version of the truth makes any sense without telling the whole truth. Her silence angers him, so he grabs both her arms around the shoulders tightly. “Where is he?! What did you do to him?!” ...

story continued from part one Part 2: Francesca’s Punishment “See you tomorrow, bye” said Francesca to her fellow canteen workers as they said their goodbyes at the end of another shift. Francesca began the short walk home. Across the car park. Past the supermarket. She passed the pharmacy. Two minutes later she crossed the road and entered an alley which would lead towards her flat. An alley she had entered many times without bother. But today she was met with a sudden pain in the back of her neck, as if something sharp had been stabbed into her. ...

Recyc-ALL Chapter 1: Shared Interests “You want to WHAT?” Sarah asked. Mary repeated herself. “I want to get recycled at Jeff’s factory.” “That’s… that’s crazy! What are you talking about?” “Well, I’ve always had… I guess it’s a fetish… about people being turned into normal objects. It started with forniphilia and such… you know, girls being bound in place and used like furniture. But I’ve come across a lot of websites which show people actually being transformed into things, like clothing and such, and that just really turns me on somehow…” ...

Continues on from the story: Stuffed Stocking & Stuffed Stocking Redux Stuffed Stocking – Round Three For the two previous Christmases, I presented myself to my boyfriend Steve naked, bound and ‘stuffed’ into a specially modified giant Christmas stocking. The principal modification was to line it with Kevlar (as well as make the suspension loops with it), making the stocking strong enough to suspend me (see ‘Stuffed Stocking’) or inescapably encase me (see ‘Stuffed Stocking Redux). In that last episode, he wound up dragging me by his cock and balls (read the story) as I shuffled along with his cock stuck in my mouth en route to getting the keys for our release. Although this trek had no impact on the Kevlar lining, it did a job on the felt on the sole of the stocking, making it unsightly to say the least. ...

This story is strictly fantasy! Although some of the sorts of trash play in the earlier parts of the story may be somewhat safe to try out for real with a person you trust, understand that this story doesn’t fully account for the realities of things like needing to breathe, and so it should not be used as a template for real-life trash play! The text of this story is released under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license, meaning that you may share and modify this story so long as you credit the author, “Disposee”.

Elena walked out her apartment complex to go and put her two garbage bags in the dumpster around the back and unlocked the gate. When she got there she opened the lid and placed them inside and closed the lid.However, the lid did not close all the way down, she looked at the sign and it said, ‘Make sure lid is fully closed before leaving, even if it means standing on the bags’.So Elena then took the stool that was under the sign and went to stand on the bags to push them down. When she was stepping on them she found it quite enjoyable. When she thought she was done she began to move her foot out of the dumpster but then she felt it start to rise so she quickly jumped out and turned around. Some of the bags started to fall out as it looked like the dumpster was coming alive.Elena was very slowly moving backwards as the dumpster she just put her garbage in magically grew arms, legs, a longer body and the lid became the mouth. Elena stood there in complete shock and awe as the dumpster grabbed the garbage bags that fell on the floor and threw them into it’s mouth like a monster eating humans. Elena quickly turned around and started to run but the dumpsters arm quickly lunged out and grabbed her. The dumpster brought her up to its mouth and looked at her. Elena thought this was strange as she couldn’t see any eyes.Elena kept trying to break free but then all of a sudden the dumpster just threw her into its mouth and closed it. Elena then landed on some garbage bags, she then proceeded to stand up. However as soon as she stood up she could feel herself sinking into the garbage bags, she was falling rather slowly as she falling what seems to be a rather long way into the belly of the beast!!! Elena quickly sat up in bed, startled and shocked. Elena thought, ‘That was one hell of a dream!!!’ She turned around and saw that her clock said 8:46. She got out of bed and went into the shower and came out 10 minutes later. She got changed into her everyday clothes and rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. She went downstairs and then prepared some scrambled egg on toast. She couldn’t finish the last slice of bread so she stood up and walked over to the bin and opened the lid. She had forgotten that it was full to the brim as she forgot to take it out last night. She pushed it down enough to fit in the last slice of bread, she then took the lid off and pulled up the bag. As she tucks some of the bag around the bin, this meant there was some room for tying up the bag. She tied it up with a double knot and placed it on the floor while she went and lined the bin with another bag. ...

Logan turned the shower nozzle to the right, unleashing a cascade of warm water over his body. Immediately, his tense muscles loosened under the soft pressure of the shower head and the steam that billowed up around him. He squeezed a dollop of body wash into his hands and lathered it on his naked skin. Using his fingernails, Logan gently freed the dirt that had stuck to his body during baseball practice. The particles ran down his legs and escaped down the drain in a spinning cyclone of mud. ...

Natalie Pizer was doing her best to keep it together. Had she been told a year prior that she would be the Vice President of America she would have laughed. A junior Representative from a non-battleground state, she was as surprised as anyone to be chosen as the Vice Presidential candidate for her party’s ticket. Eagerly she accepted. It had been a long and nasty election, with all sorts of mud and invective flung at her. Her brief record of service in public office and squeaky-clean persona worked in her favor and she had come through relatively unscathed. The usual accusations of fraud and the close count of the votes made for some rough times leading up to Inauguration Day. ...

Story continued from part four Part 5: And Emily Is Very Pleased Too Emily is awake, always an early riser, and already on her laptop, checking her emails, organising any appointments. Emily has always prided herself on understanding the human psyche, partly through her profession, where that psyche is often hidden under many layers. She thinks they hit it off very well during the first session. She watched them on the cctv after she had left them, how could they think she hadn’t thought of that? She hopes they did meet, and as she is thinking that very thought she sees a skype call coming in, and it’s from Carol. Oh, this could be interesting, thinks Emily, smiling. And suddenly, on the screen are two identical heads, well not heads but shimmering black rubber masks with eyeholes and, where the mouth should be, two very large rubber balls. She holds her breath for a second, but Emily has always been an expert in keeping her cool and adjusts immediately. ...

Sydney, a girl on the run from the FEDs and the men who wish to kidnap her for their own gain, runs out of road as she is confronted with an unsavory meeting. That was it. With a dead end looming ahead, she had nowhere else to run. She was trapped. “Looks like your time’s up, missy,” Roy smirked as he grabbed Sydney firmly by the arm and spun her around to face him. ...

With everything already in place, Eric sat on the couch hoping that tonight was going to go as smoothly as he imagined it would more than he was paying attention to the television in front of him. It had taken just under three months to tease, test, and prepare Nina so that nothing would go wrong with his plans. For so long, he’d been looking for a new sex slave and she was going to be perfect. ...

The desire to be stuffed into a laundry bag will not go away. So I bought a large canvas laundry bag, it is 40” X 50”, which I can fit inside. It’s a tight fit. Once in the bag it’s very difficult for me to pull the draw string tight and fasten it. I really need someone to do this for me. Doing it myself is OK, but I need someone to fasten the bag so that I cannot get out. Could I find someone willing to do this? Could I trust that person? ...

This is a past story that happened many years ago. It is a true story of one of my very first trash experiences. Over a period of several months, I had been keeping an eye on the trash bins on the side of the house to see if it was feasible to get inside of one some day. I had read many of the stories on this website about trash bags and really liked the idea, it was just a matter of finding the right place to try it. ...

(story continues from Oops Wrong Bin) story continued from part one Part Two Maybe I could convince my beautiful neighbour to just dump her garbage for good, the signs are there for sure. I just need to push things along gently I thought to myself. Hopefully soon she’ll allow me to join in with his trashing then I’ll be able to guage how to complete my plan. I knew Lisa would be trashing him again soon so I decided to help her slightly with trashy pleasures for Stu. Lisa had mentioned her displeasure when she could still see him in the bottom of the industrial strength garbage sacks. So I emptied my fridge early in the week just to ensure everything I bagged was foul smelling and going bad. The weather was still warm it would heat up nicely in the large outside in the sun. ...

Being the TV remote is boring. Wenona Hart recalled Ryann’s words as she checked the time. Transforming an adult woman into a fully functioning electronic device was no small task and she was rather impressed with herself, but if Ryann wanted to explore other options then Wenona was willing to make the effort. She turned her attention to the book in front of her. Reading ancient texts was always time consuming and great care was necessary, pronouncing one word wrong in a spell could mean the difference between a dog and a dinosaur. Wenona was about to go downstairs to the girl’s apartment and wanted to review a few more transformation spells, the roommate’s current interest. ...

“So Ms. Santa’s favourite little Elf has been naughty again! Caught and admitting masturbation yet again huh?” Ms. Santa sat behind her huge wooden desk and looked sternly at the Elf. There were long paper scrolls everywhere on the desk. Some were even unraveled and were taking up floor space making walking across Santa’s office like a minefield. It wouldn’t do to step on a list and smudge the toy the children wanted thus creating a toy delivery mistake. To the unaware observer, the desk looked chaotic. Holly Claus sat patiently for the last fortnight, typing the names from the paper lists into her I-Phone. ...

Based on a favorite fantasy of mine. Her Husband leaves for work for the day, the wife then proceeds to tie herself up using straps and also trashbags. She likes being garbage sometimes, she gets an overwhelming desire to become nothing but trash, she strips off, prepares her stuff in the kitchen, there are two identical bags of trash she’d prepared the night before waiting in the kitchen. She gets her bags ready, both rolled and opened ready for her to get into. She uses straps to hold her thighs to her body and others to hold her calves to her thigh, in a sort of frogtie position, leaving her open. She places a ring gag in her mouth, one she bought secretly and hides from her husband. She places leather cuffs on her wrists; she uses these so they don’t leave tell-tale marks. ...

Good evening and welcome to our little tree-house of fear, Tonight, for your entertainment and terror we bring you.. (by the way, I am now affecting my best Vincent price voice)… a tale ofAliens from far off worlds, of beautiful damsels in distress and of abduction and transformation. This tale is not intended to shock or repulse, but merely to inform and worn of the terrors that exist beyond our every day experiences. For where the tales of the T light zone (to avoid copywright issues) are pure fantasy, the tale you are about to be told is all true……. ...

It was Halloween night and your girlfriend had told you earlier in the month that she wanted to stay in for the night and watch tv and give out candy to trick or treaters. You were kind of hoping to go out and do something because you were feeling a bit stir crazy lately and wanted to get out of the house. You stated that you weren’t really interested in handing out candy and would rather go out, but said it would be fine if she really wanted to. She said thank you and paused, then said “I’ll make sure you’re not bored.” You thought nothing of it except wondering what how she could do that. She was playful and fun to be around, so you just assumed she would find something good on tv and have fun with the trick-or-treaters or something. ...

Trashgirl spent many a day dreaming of being dominated, her boyfriend Paul was only acutely aware of some of her darker desires. Although they had a very active sex life there was always something missing for trashgirl. She had became aware of trash play via gromet’s website and was more than an avid visitor. She had read every story at least ten times concentrating on the bondage and disposal of many beautiful women. Many a night she had sneaked out of bed and away to the toilet, Paul slept peacefully as she pleasured herself quietly thinking of those strong black trash bags she had hidden away under the sink. ...

How people have changed. I am much older now but continue to have the desire to have someone put me in a large canvas laundry bag, tie it up and leave me in the bag for maybe 30 minutes or so. This is just for fun. I really enjoyed the experience of being helpless in the bag. Today people have a very different attitude. They are not interested in having some good honest fun with me. Their idea is to do me physical harm, so of course I cannot trust anyone now. ...

(story continues from The Trash Wife 2: My Reward) Part 3: Discovery & Consequences My husband and I continued to play my/our garbage fetish games, with me tightly bound, naked and bagged inside several garbage bags, with the household trash tossed inside with me, coating my naked body with all its gooey goodness. I have an objectification fetish and my husband indulges me when I want to be bound and bagged, stored and put away, usually out with the rest of the garbage. He seems to like the sight of me tightly bound, bagged and ready to use for his own sexual satisfaction. ...

story continued from part two Part Three You never really do know your neighbors. Case in point. Since I live in an apartment you know that you live in close quarters to one another but you never know what all goes on behind closed doors. My neighbor next door to me I hear the sound of a vacuum cleaner quite a number of times a week. Which gives me a good smile and perhaps a good chuckle given what they can sometimes be used for besides the obvious. She must be a neat-freak. ...

I was just driving my car around town, with nothing much to do, when suddenly my mind was popping up with an idea. How about you buy some nice black bags and a few rolls of tape to play with… Before I could think of a nice scenario I find myself steering to my local hardware store, I bought a 3 packs of tesa clear tape but didn’t find the bags I wanted so drove somewhere else and on my way over there, I came across a new store, Fetish inc. I couldnt resist that… who can? hehe so I walked in . ...

Lucy, a first year microbiology student, had organised a flat party at the weekend and the theme was beach party. It didn’t matter to anyone that it was the middle of winter, in fact that probably made it all the more fun, dressing up in beach wear, or bikinis and speedos if you were brave enough! It was one of her best parties ever; the beer, wine and cheap spirits flowed on and on. It was well into daylight the next morning before the party died and the guests had gone home. The mess left behind was too much to deal with when so wasted, so Lucy decided to leave it until she got up later on. She shared with two other girls but they were away staying with their boyfriends that weekend so the mess wouldn’t matter for a little while she figured. That afternoon though they were due to have the fortnightly flat inspection by the complex caretaker, to make sure they weren’t wrecking the place and also for any routine maintenance or cleaning that was required. Lucy was passed out on the lounge sofa, gone to the world she was still only dressed in her skimpy bikini, which did little to hide her generous assets, in fact her large natural breasts had fallen out of her top during the night! The caretaker, after ringing the doorbell a few times, let herself in with her master keys. As soon as she walked in she was hit with the smell of take-away food, cigarettes and booze. This was going to be one of those flats she silently thought to herself, why don’t these students grow up? She checked around the hallway, empty pizza boxes, beer cans and glasses everywhere. Then she went to the bathrooms; the floors wet, she dared not think of what with, and the sinks blocked with sick. Surely this was the worst she had ever seen in her years, what sort of animals were these people? The caretaker went to check out the rest of the flat, the bedrooms didn’t seem as bad but still not great either. It was when she got to the lounge she got the biggest shock, the room was an absolute tip. Glasses everywhere, dishes and pizza boxes on the floor, spilt ash trays, random stains and spillages. This would definitely eat into their deposit. It was then she spotted Lucy, still asleep on the sofa, tits hanging out of her top. She watched her, her chest rising up and down, the drool dribbling from her mouth. She felt no pity for her, only disgust. She picked up a glass of wine and poured it over the girl. Lucy moved her face to the side but still didn’t wake up. This infuriated the caretaker even more; a young girl shouldn’t get into this kind of state, unable to defend herself. The caretaker went away and fetched some cleaning supplies, she didn’t enjoy cleaning up the flats but it was part of her duties and knew the students wouldn’t lift a finger to help. When she came back she spent hours cleaning the flat, the bags of trash piling up, the caretaker had cleaned the bathrooms and all the bedrooms, now all that was left was the kitchen and lounge. The kitchen and lounge were more or less one open plan room, the first being tiled and the second being carpeted. The girl, Lucy, was still asleep. The caretaker couldn’t believe it, after all the racket she had made cleaning up around her. The caretaker looked the girl up and down. She was drooling again from her mouth, her tits hanging out of her top and…. she looked like she had wet herself too! This girl really is trash. Well, it was time for her to be treated like trash! The caretaker got an extra-large bin bag from her supplies and opened it up on the floor beside the girl. She pulled out several regular bags and tied the girl’s ankles, knees and wrists together. Looking down at the girl she was satisfied she was secure, but not gagged. It then hit her, the bikini bottoms! She pulled on her gloves before untying the bikini bottoms; they were still wet and sticky. Carefully she manipulated the girl’s mouth open, slowly and gently pushing them into her mouth. Feeling that there was still a lot of space in her mouth, she needed something else. The bikini top was the obvious choice, close to hand and even more degrading for her to be totally naked. Unfastening her top she could help herself but to cup both breasts in her hands, to feel them and stroke them. She could see the nipples becoming erect. She never considered herself lesbian but she couldn’t help but find herself enjoying playing with this girl’s ample chest. The girl let out a soft moan, the caretaker backed away a little. Standing still she waited until the girl settled again. Once satisfied she was the caretaker fashioned a ball gag out of another bin liner by tying one in a double knot in the middle, then pushed it into the girls mouth and tying it behind her head. The girls’ cheeks were bulging with her own wet bikini and the bin bag; there was no chance she’d be able to call out. The caretaker lowered her feet first off the sofa into the bin bag; she folded the girl’s long soft legs under herself so that she was sat on them and then eased her body down forward. She pulled the bag up until it reached the girls shoulders, but then thought she needs to fill the bag up too, and the girl should be awake for this… The caretaker slapped the girls in the face until she was wide awake, and sore! ….. Lucy’s head was pounding, her eyes couldn’t focus, and that taste in her mouth! She tried to stretch out, but she couldn’t move, her legs and arms seemed pinned together. She tried to think, to figure it out, it didn’t make any sense. “Finally awake, you trashy bitch!!” The caretaker stood before Lucy, legs astride, hands on hips. God she looked pissed off! “A right bloody state you left this flat in, it’s taken me hours to get it straight again, all I have to do now is clean the living room and the kitchen, and I only have one bag left, yours!” Lucy’s eyes went wide; surely she can’t be serious, could she? Her question was soon answered. The caretaker came towards her bag, “Such a waste, all this food, still it’s garbage now”, She opened Lucy’s bag and poured all the food in, a mixture of crisps, pasta, chicken drumsticks, sausage rolls, everything a good party should have. Lucy watched as it rained down on her, bouncing and sliding off her body before resting around her legs. Then the caretaker brought over some drinks, open cans of beer and half-drunk bottles of wine. Holding them high she poured them over Lucy’s naked body, Lucy’s eyes looked up pleading for mercy, but none was given. Lucy’s body was soaked in booze, her hair plastered down onto her head and the mixture sloshed around her legs. The caretaker put the empties into the recycling boxes, which looked suspiciously very clean, like they had never been used before. She looked around for what else to put in the bag, there were lots of old newspapers and magazines lying around which would do just fine. The caretaker gathered them up and one by one she scrunched up the papers, she pushed them into the bag all around the naked girl until they reached around her breasts. Lucy could feel the rough paper scraping against her soft skin, the jagged edges poking her nipples. She looked down and was shocked to see her nipples becoming erect! For all the humiliation her body was enjoying this… treatment! The papers and food were slowly absorbing the liquids and becoming mushy all around her, she could feel it squelching in between her thighs. The caretaker hadn’t finished yet though; she looked around for more to put in the bag. She spotted a dirty laundry bag in the cupboard next to the kitchen; she pulled it up next to Lucy’s bag and start to empty the contents into the trash bag. T-shirts, shorts, pants & bras, they filled the bag up to Lucy’s face until the caretaker paused for a moment. The caretaker leaned down over her and pulled a stocking over her head, followed by another, and then another…when she was done Lucy’s features were almost invisible under the layers of black nylon. The caretaker filled the rest of the bag and then unceremoniously pulled the sides together at the top and tied it together. Inside Lucy had watched as the final layers had grown around her, she had tried to struggle but she was too tightly tied. She had tried to call out but all that had come out was a faint “mmnpph”, no-one would hear that. So she had resigned herself to watching the trash being dumped on her, she was starting to wish she had led a tidier less wasteful life. Now she had no choice but to join her own trash. Her bag now full the caretaker pulled the drawstrings tight around her neck, tying the ends securely. Pulling the bag shut squeezed the trash tighter against her naked body; she felt less like a person and more like just another content of the bag, another piece of trash. The caretaker satisfied the flat was now back to being respectably clean she packed away all of her cleaning equipment, all that was left of the mess was a big pile of trash bags that needed to be disposed of… She hadn’t really thought of it as she started but she had crossed a line there was no coming back from, she couldn’t let the girl go now, she’d blab and she would lose her job and most like end up with a criminal record. She had to finish the job, trash was trash and she needed to be treated and disposed of as such. She dragged the bagged up girl out from the flat and along the corridor to the lift, once down to the ground level she pulled her out the back fire exit to where the complex skips were. The skips were kept together in a row at the back lower than the path so all you had to do was lift up the lid and drop your trash down. Rolling the bag of trash into the skip she barely gave it a second thought as it fell into the half empty void, a couple more trips and she had disposed of all the trash, only a few more flats to check and clean before I’m done for the week and can go off for the weekend! Tbc…?

Part 1: The Trial I held my breath as the eleven men and one woman entered the courtroom through the door which led down a hall to the jury room. My fingers on both hands were crossed, and, if my toes were looser in my conservative three-inch pumps, my toes would be crossed as well. The jury foreman; an older white male with dark hair; greying on the sides above his ears, making him look quite distinguished; handed a slip of paper to the bailiff, which the bailiff promptly handed to the judge. The process seeming to take forever; though my lungs still held the air they had taken in when the door on the side of the courtroom first opened and the jurists returned. The judge unfolded the piece of paper, glanced at it, then set it on his bench. ...

(story continues from The Cargo 5)_ Cast Sabina – Ship’s captain. Celes – Ship’s engineer/2nd mate, technical wiz. Leece – Genetic engineer on the move with a strange habit of cloning herself. Carrying a dangerous secret. Amanita – Ship’s AI, under going some strange changes. The Muckabout – Mostly automated freighter captained by Sabina. Frostbite – Genetically engineered war machine, with a few small alterations and one, nasty quirk. _back to part five ...

You woke up by the immense lights of the supermarket. You were inside a white plastic wrapper which contained your entire body and there was a transparent part of the plastic in front of your face so you could see a little bit. You were very confused for few minutes but then it all came back to you, how you have ended up in this situation. It began when one day you were sleeping in your bed at home and someone came, woke you up by a slap and injected something to your neck. Long story short, you were kidnapped by a private company that sold human slaves. After one month of brainwashing you were transported to the supermarket, where you are to be sold to anyone who needed a home slave. They injected you with something that made you immobilized and slowed your metabolism so you could stay alive in that plastic for at least 14 days. You felt humiliated, you were nothing more than a product now. ...

The Laundromat - featuring brushslut Pulling up outside her local laundromat, Catherine hoped out of her car and retrieved a basket full of dirty laundry. “Typical of the washer to break down when i need it the most” you grumble to yourself. Pushing open the door with your back, you enter into a small room, with what looked like the baggage collection out of an airport, but it was entirely automated, no one in sight, as you walk up to one of the conveyors, dumping all your clothes onto it as its weighed, a robotic voice announces the price " that will be £20.55". Pulling out your touch-less credit card you wave it in front of the scanner as a robot arm places a sticker on each piece of clothing before its whisked away through some plastic strips and into another room. The stickers had a barcode on it to keep track of all the clothing and know who’s it was. As you go to put your card away a guy carrying a large load of laundry, so much he couldn’t see where he was going as he bumped into you sending you onto the conveyor belt. “That will be £50.20” as your card now ended up flying through the air before coming back down landing right on the scanner. Now you’re grabbed by the robot arms as they stick a sticker right on your mouth, shutting you up as they also stick the rest of your clothing. Before you or the guy had time to react you were already on your way along the conveyor at lightning speed through the plastic strips, struggling and wiggleing but unable to do or say anything as the conveyor belt pulls her along at such a rapid pace. ...

Angie lay in her favorite position thinking about the conversation with Jim she had yesterday, as she pants around the large ball gag she had strapped tightly between her teeth. Angie tries to look around even though she was wearing the rubber blindfold and smiling as she tugged at the rope connecting her wrists to her ankles wondering how long she has before the cutters will drop nearby. She couldn’t help but still feel slightly embarrassed at the admission of her favorite bondage position or the fact that she had told him so freely and so quickly after meeting him. ...

Note: This very short story was inspired by the Dec. 6, 2016 New York Post. https://twitter.com/nypost/status/806114238594957312 Carrie is preparing to close the store for the night, well, she is watching the store’s automated systems preparing to close the store. After the last upgrade Carrie wasn’t sure why she hadn’t been fired, the system never has a major failure, it fixes its own minor issues. The supermarket cleans itself, stocks itself and opens and closes itself and answers customer questions by smart phone text all by itself. Her job has been reduced to watching the monitor. No customers detected Restocking and purchase orders complete Preparing end of day reports Carrie logs off the system before the diagnostic reboot, she is supposed to stay until the system comes back up and starts overnight cleaning operations but twenty minutes of pay isn’t worth hanging around for that. Carrie is grabbing her things when the whole place goes pitch black. Power failure. “Why aren’t the emergency lights on?” Carrie said as if the system was going to respond. Her knee slams into a server rack. “Owww, don’t worry about me, stupid piece of junk.” Carrie finds the door and feels her way out of the office. She sees lights, thank goodness. “Hey, over here, help.” Carrie said. A figure approaches. The light strapped to his forehead makes him look like a shadow, but from his size Carrie can tell it’s a man. He grabs her, dragging her further into the dark store and toward the second figure. “My shift is over, you don’t need me to work on the system.” Carrie said. “We’re not fixing the place, we’re robbing the place.” The man holding Carrie said. The second man turns his light on Carrie and the man behind her, she can see he is wearing a ski mask. “You know there’s no money here, right?” Carrie said. “There’s no money anywhere since automation, we’re forced to steal stuff.” He said. “Well you don’t need me for that either.” Carrie said. “Sorry Honey, but you’re staying right here.” Carrie’s wrists are pulled behind her back and secured with plastic cuffs. Several strips of tape are pressed over her mouth and she is lowered to the floor, her ankles are cuffed. “How much time do we have?” “45 minutes before the power comes back on.” The two men get to work rifling through shelves and filling plastic boxes on a push cart, and they’re not being neat about it, spilling food and trampling on containers all over the store. Carrie tries to worm her way out of the bakery aisle toward the entrance and maybe get someone’s attention, but only manages to cover herself in flour, molasses and whatever else is on the floor before one of the men comes back. He sees Carrie’s attempted escape, folds her legs and uses a cable tie to hogtie her, then tells her they’re off. Now she can only wait for the power to come back and the system to report the robbery. After some time Carrie hears the snap of a breaker and the low hum of the computers powering up. It won’t be long now. The system lost power at the start of the diagnostic routine and now displays a message on the terminal. This is where Carrie would recover full function of the system, if she were at the terminal and logged on. The system waits the preprogramed three minutes for input then sends a text to Carrie’s phone to respond to a system failure and initiates post-closing operation in safe mode. Low level lighting comes on, just enough for sensors to scan the store and assess the cleanup required. The job begins by deploying the Spider, Self-Propelled Debris Remover. It looks more like a Hippo with its square shape and large maw. Traveling up and down the aisles, it uses its two arms to sweep trash into the front intake, depositing full trash bags out the back at the end of each aisle. In the bakery aisle Carrie sees the machine coming but can’t get out of the way. The end of the arm moves past her then folds at the center like an elbow catching Carrie in the side and pushing her toward the intake where she is swallowed whole by the machine. Inside she is swept into a large plastic bag as more trash is heaped on top of her. When full her bag is tied and ejected from the back of the machine. Soon the aisles are clear of trash and black plastic trash bags form a row along the dairy and meat section. Carrie struggles but the tight hogtie, sticky contents and the heavy plastic bag itself prevent much movement. She concentrates on creating breathing space. An overhead trolley system collects the bags so floor scrubbers can be deployed. Carrie feels herself being lifted as her bag moves through the delivery room then drops into the dumpster outside. She knows she is in trouble and can’t understand why the police haven’t arrived. AI, that’s a joke. Suddenly a loud bang and rumble echoes through the dumpster. Of course the truck is here. The sound of hydraulic pistons and the dumpster is lifted. Carrie feels her weight shifting, then she is falling into the back of a refuse truck. She hears the dumpster hit the pavement, then the sound of hydraulics again as the driver compacts the load. Carrie is pushed around as the flour, sugar and other bakery debris in her bag is pressed into her. She wills the compactor to stop as it continues to press her into the trash. Her bag pops just as the piston stops and reverses. At least she can breathe easier. More trash is added at each stop with the driver cycling the compactor every three or four loads. Fortunately they have all been at restaurants, though Carrie doesn’t feel very fortunate, she is pinned in a wall of plastic bags and smells fried chicken, fried beans and fried fish. She fights to not be sick. Hydraulic pumps start and Carrie panics, she can’t take another compacting. This time the whole wall moves as the trash is ejected from the truck. Carrie falls from the back and tumbles down a mountain of bags and waste being tossed from her plastic prison in the process. Her hair is plastered with grease and food and she lost a shoe, but she lived through it. The trucks have gone, only the sound of seagulls circling looking for a meal. Carrie can move a little, but getting back up that mountain of trash will be impossible. If she stays here she will surely be buried in trash tomorrow. Carrie hears a faint sound, like someone crumpling plastic wrap in their hand. It’s getting louder. Footsteps. An old man bends down. “You’re a girl, imagine that, I though these old eyes were fooling me again.” He studies the situation then takes out a small pocket knife and cuts the hog tie and wrist cuffs. Carrie sits up and pulls the tape from her mouth, he hands her the knife to cut her ankles free. “Is this one of those initiations?” He said. “I got robbed.” Carrie said. “Didn’t we all, I’ll be happy to share my wealth if you want to look around.” He said. “Thanks, I’ll just look for my shoe.” Carrie said.

Note: This very short story was inspired by the Dec. 6, 2016 New York Post. https://twitter.com/nypost/status/806114238594957312 Carrie is preparing to close the store for the night, well, she is watching the store’s automated systems preparing to close the store. After the last upgrade Carrie wasn’t sure why she hadn’t been fired, the system never has a major failure, it fixes its own minor issues. The supermarket cleans itself, stocks itself and opens and closes itself and answers customer questions by smart phone text all by itself. Her job has been reduced to watching the monitor. No customers detected Restocking and purchase orders complete Preparing end of day reports Carrie logs off the system before the diagnostic reboot, she is supposed to stay until the system comes back up and starts overnight cleaning operations but twenty minutes of pay isn’t worth hanging around for that. Carrie is grabbing her things when the whole place goes pitch black. Power failure. “Why aren’t the emergency lights on?” Carrie said as if the system was going to respond. Her knee slams into a server rack. “Owww, don’t worry about me, stupid piece of junk.” Carrie finds the door and feels her way out of the office. She sees lights, thank goodness. “Hey, over here, help.” Carrie said. A figure approaches. The light strapped to his forehead makes him look like a shadow, but from his size Carrie can tell it’s a man. He grabs her, dragging her further into the dark store and toward the second figure. “My shift is over, you don’t need me to work on the system.” Carrie said. “We’re not fixing the place, we’re robbing the place.” The man holding Carrie said. The second man turns his light on Carrie and the man behind her, she can see he is wearing a ski mask. “You know there’s no money here, right?” Carrie said. “There’s no money anywhere since automation, we’re forced to steal stuff.” He said. “Well you don’t need me for that either.” Carrie said. “Sorry Honey, but you’re staying right here.” Carrie’s wrists are pulled behind her back and secured with plastic cuffs. Several strips of tape are pressed over her mouth and she is lowered to the floor, her ankles are cuffed. “How much time do we have?” “45 minutes before the power comes back on.” The two men get to work rifling through shelves and filling plastic boxes on a push cart, and they’re not being neat about it, spilling food and trampling on containers all over the store. Carrie tries to worm her way out of the bakery aisle toward the entrance and maybe get someone’s attention, but only manages to cover herself in flour, molasses and whatever else is on the floor before one of the men comes back. He sees Carrie’s attempted escape, folds her legs and uses a cable tie to hogtie her, then tells her they’re off. Now she can only wait for the power to come back and the system to report the robbery. After some time Carrie hears the snap of a breaker and the low hum of the computers powering up. It won’t be long now. The system lost power at the start of the diagnostic routine and now displays a message on the terminal. This is where Carrie would recover full function of the system, if she were at the terminal and logged on. The system waits the preprogramed three minutes for input then sends a text to Carrie’s phone to respond to a system failure and initiates post-closing operation in safe mode. Low level lighting comes on, just enough for sensors to scan the store and assess the cleanup required. The job begins by deploying the Spider, Self-Propelled Debris Remover. It looks more like a Hippo with its square shape and large maw. Traveling up and down the aisles, it uses its two arms to sweep trash into the front intake, depositing full trash bags out the back at the end of each aisle. In the bakery aisle Carrie sees the machine coming but can’t get out of the way. The end of the arm moves past her then folds at the center like an elbow catching Carrie in the side and pushing her toward the intake where she is swallowed whole by the machine. Inside she is swept into a large plastic bag as more trash is heaped on top of her. When full her bag is tied and ejected from the back of the machine. Soon the aisles are clear of trash and black plastic trash bags form a row along the dairy and meat section. Carrie struggles but the tight hogtie, sticky contents and the heavy plastic bag itself prevent much movement. She concentrates on creating breathing space. An overhead trolley system collects the bags so floor scrubbers can be deployed. Carrie feels herself being lifted as her bag moves through the delivery room then drops into the dumpster outside. She knows she is in trouble and can’t understand why the police haven’t arrived. AI, that’s a joke. Suddenly a loud bang and rumble echoes through the dumpster. Of course the truck is here. The sound of hydraulic pistons and the dumpster is lifted. Carrie feels her weight shifting, then she is falling into the back of a refuse truck. She hears the dumpster hit the pavement, then the sound of hydraulics again as the driver compacts the load. Carrie is pushed around as the flour, sugar and other bakery debris in her bag is pressed into her. She wills the compactor to stop as it continues to press her into the trash. Her bag pops just as the piston stops and reverses. At least she can breathe easier. More trash is added at each stop with the driver cycling the compactor every three or four loads. Fortunately they have all been at restaurants, though Carrie doesn’t feel very fortunate, she is pinned in a wall of plastic bags and smells fried chicken, fried beans and fried fish. She fights to not be sick. Hydraulic pumps start and Carrie panics, she can’t take another compacting. This time the whole wall moves as the trash is ejected from the truck. Carrie falls from the back and tumbles down a mountain of bags and waste being tossed from her plastic prison in the process. Her hair is plastered with grease and food and she lost a shoe, but she lived through it. The trucks have gone, only the sound of seagulls circling looking for a meal. Carrie can move a little, but getting back up that mountain of trash will be impossible. If she stays here she will surely be buried in trash tomorrow. Carrie hears a faint sound, like someone crumpling plastic wrap in their hand. It’s getting louder. Footsteps. An old man bends down. “You’re a girl, imagine that, I though these old eyes were fooling me again.” He studies the situation then takes out a small pocket knife and cuts the hog tie and wrist cuffs. Carrie sits up and pulls the tape from her mouth, he hands her the knife to cut her ankles free. “Is this one of those initiations?” He said. “I got robbed.” Carrie said. “Didn’t we all, I’ll be happy to share my wealth if you want to look around.” He said. “Thanks, I’ll just look for my shoe.” Carrie said.

Sal hated Christmas. Not because he was a Scrooge, and he really liked to help others and always put his change in the kettle. What Sal hated was the days after the holiday. Sal worked on a garbage truck. And for a solid week afterwards, the streets would be lined with bins and bags, piles full of trash. The wrappings, paper and boxes were no problem even if they should have been set out next week to be recycled. No, it was all the old toys and furniture and kitchenware that had been replaced by gifts. It was all kept so the new things would be a surprise. And out it all went starting the day after Christmas. ...

story continued from part 14 After writing many stories relating to rubber fetish, bondage and associated themes I have decided that, at least for now, this is my last, and for that I wanted to write something very different and challenging for me. So this is a gay rubber story, something I have never tried before. There is some femdom, maledom and feminisation as well, but it is predominantly a gay rubber tale. Whether or not it “works” and has credibility is entirely up to the reader, although I have to say I did quite enjoy writing it. ...

During Rose’s career she had played the bound victim many times. Rose enjoyed each scene she spent bound and gagged always pushing the prop and stage people trying to get them to bind her tighter. She even convinced them to make sure she was actually bound asking to be left bound while they reset the scene’s using professional reasons as an excuse for her demands. Now financially comfortable and well know Rose has more difficulty engaging in her other passion of bondage. Not wanting it to get out or ever her to be seen as a pervert she often secures herself in difficult positions and struggles around her large home alone. Sitting alone one evening surfing the web while she waited on her ice release to melt and allow her to remove the large gag that has been keeping her silent for the last eight hours. The gag causing her to choke if she stops suckling it and a tight posture collar holding her head firmly erect and keeping her from looking in any direction without turning her body. She had bound her legs tightly together with her ankles tied to the cross brace of the large chair she sits in. The high heels she loves so much that holds her feet in an extreme arch causing her feet and legs to cramp within an hour of donning them dangling slightly off the floor. Typing with her one partially free hand looking for something to distract her from the pain of her tightly pinched nipples that have a weight attached to the chain connecting them tugging her pert nipples with each breath. ...

Francine came home from work in a good mood. She had been rewarded for solving a problem and received two afternoons off, with pay. So it was a Thursday, and here she was, home early at 2:30 pm after a shopping visit to the mall. Her husband Bill worked for a cleaning company as an on-call worker, so she did not know if he would be at home or off on a job until she saw his car parked in the driveway outside the garage. At first, she wondered why it wasn’t inside, but remembered that he had been talking about cleaning out a lot of old things they had collected and piled up in the garage. She parked on the street and went into the house quietly, planning to surprise Bill. Opening the door from the kitchen to the back of the garage, she stopped, not saying a thing. There was Bill, on his knees, doing what could best be described as humping a bag of trash that was partly inside a tipped over wheelie bin. As she stood watching, she realized that the big plastic bag was moving, pressing itself back as Bill thrust forward. Someone was inside the trash bag and Bill was fucking whoever it was through a hole in the bag! ...

Present Time Yes Honey, your favorite black, leather, trench coat, cinched tight at the waist, is a sign that I’m going out tonight. Of course, without you, Nanny has already tucked you in for the night. And besides….. I don’t have the keys to unlock the pink patent leather cuffs holding your wrists and ankles to the side bars on your crib. Moreover, Nanny has the only keys to remove your pacifier and chastity belt. ...

story continued from part six Chapter Seven Almost immediately after the black out I was already waking up looking to a ceiling devoid of the surgical lights, I could feel a tube down my throat and mechanical means of breathing and I was now in a bed rather then the surgical table. It was very confusing and I was somewhat worried that I was in a bed when the Master made it very clear that slaves did not sleep in beds. My body was aching something fearful but I suspected the surgery had not been done since I had absolutely no pains in the lower regions. Buzzers and alarms where sounding and soon 2 nurses ran into the room and started checking the instruments while on of them kept asking me if I was awake? And if I knew where I was? And if I could see how many fingers she was holding up? The only thing I could do was blink and barely shake my right hand. ...

Bill was a kinky fellow, willing to try most anything. Unfortunately, he was also not very kind and considerate. So when he met Betty, a cute girl, who had a thing for being treated like a worthless sex toy, it was a match made in, well, not heaven, but they both liked it. They experimented with bondage, but Bill tended to enjoy his beer and was incapable of tying a decent knot to save his life. That was probably why Betty was still alive since he kept looping the ropes around her neck. But since all she had to do was pull his poor knots apart, she always got free. It was fun, but not quite the thrill she sought. ...

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. Marlene wasn’t sure why she had decided to come with three friends and four guys on camping trip. It had not been what she expected at all. No campsite by a pretty lake. Well there was a lake but it was down the trail from the campsite on an island in the middle of a bog where a slow spring fed stream meandered down to the lake. Totally isolated and when the light breeze blew there was a foul stink of rot from the bog. ...

Marlene wasn’t sure why she had decided to come with three friends and four guys on camping trip. It had not been what she expected at all. No campsite by a pretty lake. Well there was a lake but it was down the trail from the campsite on an island in the middle of a bog where a slow spring fed stream meandered down to the lake. Totally isolated and when the light breeze blew there was a foul stink of rot from the bog. ...

The frat house was already alive with music and people who were pouring in and out of the door looking like so many ants. Dusty clenched the six pack he was holding until the edges of the cardboard dug into his soft palms and made rough indentations in the delicate skin. He wasn’t ready for this. There was no way he was going to survive. All he could do was look at the swarm of college-age guys with their swollen biceps and dark stubble on their chins and think to himself, ‘oh dear god they are all going to kill me’. ...

I met Tom via an internet forum for people who wish to become dolls or people wanting to play with those dolls. I’d had this fetish for some time now and had even bought my own latex doll suit to wear at home, I’d put it on and lay back on the bed perfectly still and imagine I was just a latex sexdoll, inflated and waiting to be used by my owner, I would bring myself off to an amazing climax and drift off to sleep, waking in the morning still enclosed within the doll suit. ...

(story continues from A Night I Won’t Soon Forget) Part Two —-Desolates recollection: Alyssa looked at me with a wild eyed look. She was biting her lip as she pulled the black plastic trash bag down around her waist so she could move towards me, meanwhile my wife Jen was staring at her lustfully. I could tell that Jen was in such a state of orgasmic euphoria that she was singularly focused on Alyssa’s body, which was glistening with sweat and flushed from her multiple orgasm adventure. ...

This is a Tales of Green Valley story, submitted with the permission of Tammy_murfin Tales of Green Valley Picked Up - With the Rest of the Trash The transfer station was quiet for the most part - the conveyor belt shutdown for the day, a pile of bagged garbage strewn at the bottom of the pit. The cute, slender woman in her black dress, dropped the heavy black bag of trash she carried with her upon the ground with some force. The trash inside the shiny black bag moaned loudly - in protest or excitement, Louise could not be sure. Her bare, dirty foot pressed against the garbage bag with the suspiciously human outline… ...

Julie was finishing putting up the volleyball team equipment when she heard the locker room door open and close and the sound of a large 80 gallon trash can on wheels being rolled into the locker room. She figured it was just the custodial staff as she goes over to her locker to get her stuff so she can leave. As she turns the corner there is Lacy and four other member of the cross country team standing next to her locker with the large trash can. There had always been some rivalry between the two teams. Julie nor the rest of her team never liked them as they were always breaking rules and somehow never seem to get caught. However Julie had tipped the administration off about their drinking parties and they ultimately got caught. Julie had no regrets about this either. ...

Julie was finishing putting up the volleyball team equipment when she heard the locker room door open and close and the sound of a large 80 gallon trash can on wheels being rolled into the locker room. She figured it was just the custodial staff as she goes over to her locker to get her stuff so she can leave. As she turns the corner there is Lacy and four other member of the cross country team standing next to her locker with the large trash can. There had always been some rivalry between the two teams. Julie nor the rest of her team never liked them as they were always breaking rules and somehow never seem to get caught. However Julie had tipped the administration off about their drinking parties and they ultimately got caught. Julie had no regrets about this either. ...

Continues on from the story: Stuffed Stocking_ Stuffed Stocking 2: Redux It had been almost a year since my boyfriend Steve came home on Christmas Eve to find me naked, bound and hanging from his foyer wall in an oversized (specially modified) red Christmas stocking. Needless to say, the evening turned out to be a night we’ll both remember forever. I wanted to do something equally sexy but less elaborate this year and, after all, I still had the stocking so it made sense to put it to use in whatever plan I came up with. For those of you who haven’t read about that previous adventure (Stuffed Stocking), I modified the lining and suspension hoops of the stocking to be made of Kevlar so it was super strong and could hold my weight without tearing. ...

(story continues from Trashed at School) story continued from part one Part Two I became more and more preoccupied about the experience. What was it? On its face it was humiliating and disgusting, but somehow thinking about it made my heart race. I longed to experience it again. I fantasized about how to make the most of it. I’d do it differently. How could I? Would they give me the same punishment? ...

Stacy had a love for being bound and put inside a trash bag. She loved it so much that she would often have her husband bag her up, place her in the large trash can and put her out on the curb the night before with the rest of the garbage. He would leave her to her fantasies and then in the morning, before going to work, pull her out and bring her back inside, release her from the bag and they would continue on as usual. ...

They’d polished off 2 bottles of wine with dinner and a blunt of primo for dessert, the four friends now sat around the patio table talking rather loudly about their sexual exploits. Lyla spun the empty and it pointed at Dee, “Ohhh truth or dare!” Dee rolled her eyes and answered, “Truth.” “Some sexual fantasy you’ve not told anyone here about before,” Lyla smirked. “Fuck you,” Dee felt the trap closing. Lyla knew most everything she’d done with Charlie. Charlie was here next to her, so she couldn’t say something he knew about. It had to be something she felt ashamed to admit to. “Dare, then.” ...

Transcribed from actual conversations with a real scale-house attendant who works at the local landfill named Ramona. A realistic and hypothetical account of how my actual disposal could actually go if the local landfill accepted me as trash. I decided to write this story, featuring parts from real telephone conversations. It was only 10:30 am that Tuesday morning when I arrived at the local landfill, I had caught a ride with a man who had a trailer full of old kid’s clothing, old toys, and some left-over opened packs of unused vintage disposable diapers attached to a dually pick-up truck. ...

The sorority had a problem, it was too popular. The House could only accept 25 new pledges from the freshman class and 36 girls had been accepted as pledges. Eleven of them had to go. Simone was the head of the chapter and was having a difficult time making the cut. The House had ties to the most popular fraternity on campus, one known for accepting good looking boys with money and connections. This made the sorority very attractive to girls eager to meet and date those boys. And then there were the rumors… It was known that the girls all wore House necklaces. That they were BDSM collars and that freshman and sophomore girls were expected to be submissives and serve as sex slaves was actually true. But it was only rumor to those outside the sorority and the fraternity. Pledges thought that the collars and what they were made to do were just part of the pledge hazing. Many of the new girls were surprised when there were frat boys invited to inspect them naked. Few complained when ordered to let the boys touch and fondle them. After all this was part of the rumors and had itself preselected girls who were active sexually and eager for such experiences. So now Simone and the upper class sisters had a problem. All 36 girls had great bodies, most had already shown their heated nature and willingness to please both the boys and their older sisters. In fact one early pledge event had involved having each girl, naked and blindfolded, crawl to a chair, spread the legs of the seated person and use her mouth to make the person cum. They had to please two of them, one male and one female. If a pledge refused or was not able to make the person cum, they were eliminated. Surprisingly, only four pledges had been eliminated this year. Knowing how important it was for the sisters to stick together, and that some of them would be the future Mistresses as upper class, she needed something that would cement them through a shared choice and that would reveal who had leadership or skill as a dominant. The event planned for this Saturday would be just the thing. The 36 girls were taken individually to the House laundry room and told to strip and put all their clothes in the wash before being led down the hall to the cellar stairs. This hall was lined with the upper class men and women of both the sorority and the fraternity. The gauntlet of groping and fondling and stroking left the pledges quite aroused and excited. Once they were all down in the cellar, Simone told them, “You have one hour to play with each other, make the most of it.” The cellar was empty with a floor covered with easily cleaned thick exercise mats. The room was of course wired for sound and video so the rest of the girls and the guys from the frat House could watch. It proved both entertaining and rather athletic, a bit like a twister tournament that left most of the girls only partially sated. After the hour of physical activity Simone opened the door and tossed in a box of wipes and a roll of giant heavy duty bin liner plastic bags. “Clean the mats and fill 6 bags with trash. Yell when you are done.” The pledges made sure all the mats were cleaned, but the used wipes did nothing to fill one bag, let alone six. So when they called out and Simone returned, she acted angry when they explained there was nothing to fill the trash bags. Simone said, “Nonsense, I see six bag fulls of trash down there. Only 30 pledges move on after tonight. Deal with it.” Simone returned to the lounge to watch. They would learn who was least popular, and who stepped up as a leader to suggest the 6 should be the trash. With that, the door was closed and Simone joined the rest in the lounge in front of the big screen TV. The most assertive of the pledges, Elaine shouted, “Quiet! They want to reduce our count by 6. It’s obvious isn’t it? We have to stuff 6 of us into those bags.” It did not take long for the pledges to break up into 4 groups and after they whispered together the 4 leaders started to argue about how to decide who would be discarded. No one wanted to draw straws, or hairs since that was all they had. Drawing the short hair got a laugh but no one wanted to leave things to chance. The leaders of the two biggest groups stepped aside before approaching one of the other groups. The two smaller cliques each had 6 members. It took very little time before it became clear that one group of 6 was all alone… As it turned out, the 6 were the ones with the least confidence and when it became clear they had been chosen, Tamara, their leader spoke up. “I always knew I was just trash, this only proves it. Ok, bag me up, I might as well be thrown out like garbage.” Two others nodded in agreement while the other three started to cry. At that moment, the door opened and 6 gags and 6 binding ropes were tossed into the cellar. ...

Tammy is the author of Tales of the Green Valley series. This is an account of a True and recent experience (April 11-13, 2015) I thought I had planned well and got in a lot deeper than I expected. Another lesson in why this type of play should remain as fantasy and is NOT for solo play, have a partner/rescue plan if you consider doing this. Better yet, DON’T! I was interested in experiencing part of what Betsy did in story # 17: New to the Game and this is what happened. Maybe this true story will help prevent a bad mistake by someone new to this. ...

Three weeks ago, a new machine was put in operation. It is a machine that can make curtains and drapery to order. Tissue is selected from 1 of 24 rolls and 6 different types of lace can be sewed on them. Since the installation, we had problems with it, once in a while, the lace is not sewed in the proper location and customer complains. Twice the line had been stopped for a full evening as maintenance searched for the problem. Every sensor, every motor, every actuator, every wire connections were checked but nothing was found. ...

Sunday morning so early that the sun is just barely up and no one else seems to be. I don’t remember ever seeing the city so deserted, only a few early risers out to enjoy the morning. As I turned the corner just south of my building I stared at the woman coming toward me. In four inch spikes she was taller than my own six feet. Her long blond hair shimmered brightly in the morning sun, and her long luscious legs swelled into sleek muscular thighs that disappeared beneath a short blue mini-skirt that molded her voluptuous ass into a thing of heart-rending beauty, but the thing that really stopped me were the huge fleshy mountains thrusting out from her broad chest, and bulging from the top of her blouse, daring anyone to look at them. She was looking down into her purse and coming on a collision course with me, and we were almost together when she drew something from the purse. I thought at first it was a gun, but it looked like a cross between a gun and a camera, some kind of toy. She looked up at me, and I was caught staring at her mammoth tits. She pointed the toy at me, and there was a sudden flash. For half a second I thought it was a strobe, then the world spun about me, and I was dizzy. Then a huge object slammed down directly in front of me with a tremendous crash. I jerked back and nearly fell as I looked; instead of those enormous globes in front of me there was a woman’s foot in a high heeled open toed shoe. A woman’s foot the size of a truck! I reeled back and looked up at an enormous column; from an ankle higher than my head it swelled magnificently into an enormous, shapely, woman’s leg, joining another fifty feet above my head beneath a vast swirling blue canopy. Suddenly the entire Green Bay Packers line slammed into me. I was pinned helplessly, I couldn’t breathe, my arms were crushed painfully to my sides and I was swept up, up… dizzily up, high into the air, up before a vast smiling face. A gorgeous woman’s face the size of a billboard. I was totally disorientated, screaming with pain as she squeezed me like a child’s toy in the gigantic fingers of one giant hand. I looked into great blue eyes, and at the plush red lips smiling at me. Lips more than a yard across with enormous foot long teeth, gleaming like a white stone fence, and a cavernous mouth that could swallow me whole. I screamed and fought, helpless as a tiny kitten in her titanic grip. She just grinned and brought me up against those mammoth red lips, engulfing my entire head and upper torso in the hot wetness of a giant kiss. Laughing at my helpless struggles she looked around for a second, suddenly I was swung out and down, and stuffed unceremoniously into her giant purse. I felt her release my body, and then those gigantic fingers grabbed my legs, and easily as a woman with a child’s rag doll simply folded me up, and closed the purse over my trapped body. It was pitch dark in her enormous purse, and the huge things a woman normally carries in her purse were all around me, banging and smashing into me as she walked. I could feel her every step, long slow ponderous steps, still wondering what had happened to me. One second I was walking normally along, and then an enormous giantess was grabbing me, and stuffing me into her purse like a toy. It took a long while for me associate the beautiful woman I had been staring at moments before all this happened, and the object she had pulled from her purse, with the titanic giantess that had captured me. Slowly I realized, she was not a giantess, but somehow I was a tiny doll. It was probably that camera like object she had pointed at me, that had shrunk me down to a miniature doll. I lay in her giant purse trapped, and trying to plan an escape when I realized. What would I do if I got out? I was probably no more than four inches tall, and totally unable to care for myself if I did escape. Realizing there wasn’t anything I could do, I resigned myself, and at least she had kissed me before so hastily jamming me into her purse, maybe I had a chance. Besides, she was the only one I had ever heard of that could shrink a grown man till he was smaller than a Barbie doll, and was probably the only one that could grow him back again. So I’ll have to stay with her; as if I had any choice. I had felt the ponderously slow thudding of her great long strides for some little time when suddenly I felt her swing the purse out, and then I felt a falling sensation, like an elevator dropping too fast. Suddenly it slammed into something, and everything in that giant purse clobbered me at least once, a lot of them twice. I lay there for several moments with no movement, but I could hear heavy movements nearby. The noise of movement came near, and there was a jostling, then the purse sprang open. I stared up into that vast billboard size face again. She was grinning down at me, almost laughing as I lay huddled up in her purse, hugging a metal object as big as a scuba tank, I could now see was merely a tube of her lipstick. “Ok little man, come on out.” and she reached in and pinching one leg between her colossal thumb and forefinger plucked me casually from the purse…. and lay me on the palm of her other hand, a palm that was as wide was I was tall, a palm as big as a king sized bed, I was dwarfed in that enormous hand. She turned me about for only a second or so, apparently examining me, and then casually dropped me back onto the giant bed. “Get undressed!” Her voice was rolling thunder, as she grinned down at me. I didn’t believe her, as easily as that, tossing me onto a gigantic bed like a child’s toy soldier, and casually telling me to get undressed. “What the hell’s going on, anyway? What do you mean, ‘Get undressed!’ go to hell, and get undressed yourself!” Somehow, in spite of her gigantic size, and her handling me like a toy, my perilously small size just hadn’t sunk in. “Little man, you don’t seem to understand! When I tell you to do something, the only thing I want to hear from you is “Yes mam!” Now I’ll tell you one more time: Get undressed!” I just lay there looking up at her, and said, “Ok, I don’t mean to sound belligerent, it’s just that I’m confused. One moment I’m walking down the street looking at a beautiful woman, and the next thing I know I’m four inches tall, and the beautiful woman is stuffing me into her purse like I’m some kind of a toy.” I was getting worked up as I spoke, “What the hell’s the idea of kidnapping me like this, then casually telling me to “get undressed”? I’m not getting undressed or anything else until you tell me what in hell’s going on!” She stood there simply staring down at me for a minute, the smile slowly fading from her broad lips. Staring up at that vast, no-longer-smiling face, and her enormously gigantic body towering above me, I slowly began to realize that I might not be in a position to talk back to a hundred foot tall giantess. Her next move caught me completely by surprise. She reached out very leisurely toward me, and as casually as if she were brushing at a fly, flicked me with the back of her fingers. I didn’t even have a chance to get my hands up to protect myself. It was like a truck had crashed into me. Her giant fingers slammed me half way across the enormous bed. I hit the rough covers sliding, and rolled several times before I came to rest. ...

My wife, Jen and I had been married for 6 wonderful years. We had a very adventurous intimate life that took us to many fantasy places and included all manner of adventure. We had enjoyed all sorts of fantasy play and fetish exploration. Bondage, S&M, Latex fetish, Domination, you name it, we gave it all a shot. But despite the incredible life behind closed doors there was one secret fetish I had never told her about. My deep rooted love of black trash bags. I don’t know why I had never told her about it, we had shared our darkest most depraved fantasies with each other. But for some reason this one seemed too dark, too strange to let out in the open. I regularly practiced my enjoyment of black bags in private, when she wasn’t home. In public by hiding in dumpsters full of garbage, enclosed in my own black bag, waiting for the surge of energy when a stranger disposed of their own garbage on top of me. The rush of being caught was incredible, and I had many, many fulfilling orgasms in many many dumpsters. I couldn’t explain the fetish, I’ve just always had it. I had done such a good job of keeping it secret for all these years that I had started to get careless with my pursuit of personal pleasure. I had devised a way to vacuum seal myself into a trash bag with nothing more than a straw to breath out of to keep myself from blacking out, I would seal 2 55 gallon trash bags together, then attach a valve that I could open and close from the inside to a vacuum, climb inside, turn on the vacuum, tie the bag shut, seal my lips on the breathing apparatus, then stick the valve to the vacuum, the suction would rapidly pull all of the air out of the bag and it would clamp down on my bare flesh. The feeling of the bag sealed tightly to my skin was the ultimate rush. I was helpless to move, except to roll over, and grind my cock against the bag until I exploded in a writhing orgasm. When spent, I could pull away from the vacuum and let the air flow back into the bag. When it was less vice like, I could untie the bag, climb out and continue on my day with nobody being any the wiser. I had been performing this act randomly for years with no issues. I knew my wife’s schedule very well, I knew when I could engage this fantasy, and when I couldn’t. Jen had headed off to work for the day. She was looking very sexy wearing a mini dress, and a pair of heels that accentuated her long toned legs. Her ass looked amazing, as did her tight body. She was a sight to behold. I asked her where she was heading dressed up so sexily, and she responded that she had a meeting with a client that could potentially secure her company a significant financial backer. She needed to nail the meeting, so she was dressed to impress. She headed out the door and all I could do was watch as my little man grew hard watching her walk down the walkway to her car. I knew she was going to be gone all day, and probably into the night, I had a raging hard on, and determined that this would be the perfect time to take advantage of my little trash bag prison. I went downstairs to the basement and gathered all of the materials I needed to seal myself in ecstasy and release my pent up pressure. After I got everything I needed I set myself up as I had done many times before, I attached the vacuum to the valve, climbed into the bag, wrapped my mouth around the breathing tube, tied the bag over my head, laid back and switched on the vacuum. The air was quickly sucked out of the bag and I was perfectly encased in the shiny black plastic. It felt so cool against my skin. I started to writhe and buck. I had found a way to shut the vacuum off and close the valve so the bag would stay sealed to my body without the noise of the vacuum ruining the sensations I felt. So I switched off the vacuum and just laid there enjoying the closeness of the plastic to my skin. I could feel the pressure around my swollen member, and hear the crinkle of the bag as I thrust around. Suddenly my taboo fetish world was shattered when I heard Jen say in an alarmed tone, “What the fuck is going on here?” She had used the meeting as a ploy to tease me, she knew that her outfit was going to get my blood flowing and her intention was to come back and use her physical appearance to tease me, then please me. She had caught me in the act of something she had never seen before. She looked upon me sealed tightly inside a trash bag, It conforming to every curve of my body, My rock hard cock straining against the shiny black plastic. I was on the verge of orgasm when she spoke. I was twitching inside the bag, ready to cum. Her voice instantly stopped my action. I couldn’t speak so I just laid there. She walked over to me and said again, “What the fuck are you doing? is this how you behave when I’m not around?” I shook my head shamefully agreeing with her question. she continued, “I suppose you didn’t think I knew about this little thing you have here did you? I know what makes you tick my dear husband. I see the clues, I’ve found the bags. I didn’t however think this is what was going on. Do you like to be treated like garbage?” She put her foot on my chest and yelled, “Answer me!” I shook my head again. It was all I could do other than groan, the tube in my mouth made it impossible for me to talk. I felt her kneel down beside me, she ran her hand over my chest. I writhed. She watched my cock swell inside the bag. “I can see how hard you are. You really enjoy being vacuum sealed inside a trash bag don’t you?” she said as she traced her fingernails down my chest, over my stomach and down across the underside of my throbbing cock. I groaned as she traced the line. She responded to my groaning and bucking by rubbing my dick through the plastic. She stated, “I’m going to make you cum, it’s going to be slow, and I’m going to enjoy this more than you are, but when you are done we are going to have a conversation about this as I’m not exactly pleased that you have been engaging in this kind of play without my knowledge.” She started to rub my member slowly. The flash of heat from her hand and the contrast with the cold black bag clinging to my body made me shiver. She spit onto my groin and rubbed carefully, listening to my breathing and moaning. Sensing that I was going to explode she stopped, bringing me to the raw, bitter edge. She let me cool down then continued. She kept edging me like this for an hour, every time getting me closer to orgasm. It was torture. I thought I was going to black out when she finally brought me to completion. I erupted, bucking wildly as she rubbed my cock and balls furiously. She was very turned on watching me throb and empty my balls in the bag, She could see every vein of my manhood as it strained against the shiny black plastic. She could see every pulse as the cum dumped out of my balls. She would never admit it, but she was on the ragged edge herself. Jen instructed me to get out and get cleaned up then to meet her in the kitchen for a conversation regarding my depraved behavior. I did as she instructed. I sat down beside her in the kitchen. I couldn’t even look her in the eyes as I was so ashamed of what she had caught me doing, I didn’t know what to say. She was still dressed in her mini dress and heels, looking sexy as ever. I didn’t notice the flush of her skin as she was immensely aroused by what had just transpired. She took it upon herself to trigger a massive orgasm as she waited for me to clean up. She asked me how I got involved in such an odd fetish and I told her that I didn’t know, It had been there since I was a child. She asked why I hadn’t told her about it before. I sheepishly shrugged, I didn’t know how to answer. She asked me how far it had gone. I danced around some of the details. She eventually got me to admit that I had been spending time inside dumpsters letting people throw their trash on me. She asked if I had ever been in a compactor. I looked at her wide eyed and responded with a resounding, “NO!” She got a little smirk on her face and asked, “Do you want to be?” I stammered, unable to think how to answer this question. She replied with, “I can make your ultimate fantasy come true. I will make you trash, and dispose of you in the compactor in the parking lot. I know what you have been doing and have researched this for months. It’s safe, they empty the compactor on Monday every week, If I throw you in there on Tuesday, you can stay in it until Saturday being nothing but trash, then I’ll pop the lid and get you out!” I just sat there dumbfounded that she would even make such a suggestion. “Wouldn’t I get killed in there?” I stated. “No!” she responded, “I’ve been doing a lot of research and I’ve seen it when it gets emptied into the big garbage truck. It usually isn’t packed too tight. I think you would be fine!” She smiled at me with her big bright smile and said, “Let me help you live out this fantasy.” She looked into my eyes, “I know you want this, I’ve see the videos you watch online of people in dumpsters. I can make this very much worth it to you, let’s do it!” I looked at her for a long time trying to wrap my head around the fact that she wasn’t mad, she wasn’t going to leave me for keeping this crazy fetish to myself. On the contrary, she was actually encouraging me to live out the ultimate fantasy. I agreed. She looked at me and said, “Great, on Tuesday night we are going to have us a little fantasy. Now get the fuck over here and fuck me. You have no idea how much that turned me on you piece of filth!” I obliged her instruction and fucked her hard. I didn’t even take the dress off, I just bent her over the counter and fucked her until she came, again and again then I dumped my load inside her tight pussy. ...

I had been dating this girl for over a year now. It was the perfect match for me. I have a deep seeded fetish for being encased in black garbage bags, She is a garbage truck driver. We had been able to make my desire to be inside a garbage truck on a very safe level happen on several occasions, but the excitement was not there anymore. I needed less control of the situation. ...

Here’s a sequel to my story, “A Visit from St. Kinkolas,” which I wrote in response to some of the comments that it was “left hanging.” Kinkmas Morning (A Visit From St. Kinkolas, Part 2) As Santa Claus had predicted, and as Brenda had expected, it was a long, hard wait until morning. The Christmas magic worked to spare her any physical discomfort—she even dozed off for a very brief time—but she was in an agony of worry and fear as to what would become of her and of Greg. No one else had keys to her apartment, other than Greg, and he, like her, was tied up and trapped there. She had no idea who else, if anyone, might have keys to Greg’s apartment, where she was. What if some friend or family member burst in to wish a “Merry Christmas”, and found her like this? She would just die–. She struggled fruitlessly against the magic bondage, but the velvet ribbons held her bound relentlessly. ...

Britney drove into the dimly lit parking lot of a small shopping complex near the edge of the suburban town she lived in. She often came to this spot, relatively out of the way to indulge in one of her darker, kinkier sides to her rather boring sex life. She cruised through the parking lot and headed around the side road of the buildings. Britney would then pull into a spot in the back of the buildings, not far from a cluster of three dumpsters in a small enclave between an office supply store and a restaurant. ...

Story inspired and posted by SuziC “Hello, may I speak to Miss Neale please?” I asked. This was a new patient assigned to me at my clinic by the military. I worked as a psychologist in the city hospital for traumatised soldiers. “Yes, speaking.” she replied. “Hi, I’m Doctor Michael Vincent I see from your records you had served in Eastern Europe as a military interpreter, and you had a bad experience there and that is why I have contacted you on behalf of your C.O. I’ve looked at your case and would really like to help with your rehabilitation.” I explained as I looked over her files and a picture of her. She was quite attractive. She had chestnut brown hair and piercing blue eyes. ...

“Now remember, don’t do anything crazy while we are gone!” Said Mary as she and her husband Don headed for the door. “I already told you I’m sleeping over at a friends house tonight” replied their daughter, Marissa. The door closed as Mary and Don left. She had the whole house to herself for now. She had lied to her parents, but it wasn’t a big deal, because she wasn’t going to cause any trouble. Marissa had just wanted to tie herself up in the garbage and experience what it is like to truly be garbage. ...

Shyanne looked up at the judge in disbelief. She had just been sentenced to ‘community service’ which meant that she would be kept in a large public trashcan for a week. The punishment was for littering, If she littered she would be littered upon. Her parents broke down in tears as the judge gave the sentence. Their beautiful daughter didn’t deserve to be treated like trash. It was a simple mistake, throwing a cigarette butt on the sidewalk. Unfortunately the judge despised smoking and gave her a harsh sentence. A tearful Shyanne was quickly taken by police from the courtroom to their squad car and then to the mall, where she would be kept in a large trash can. The two police men were laughing and joking around as they tied Shyanne into a ball. It was pretty common for them to throw girls away since the new law had been passed. Curiously though, most men that were caught littering got away with a slap on the wrist. Shyanne had to admit though, in the back of her mind she was sort of excited. She had always wanted to be treated like an object and now would be her chance. She quickly dispelled these thoughts and continued crying. She was carried by the police men to the middle of the mall next to a pillar where the large trash can was sitting. Most of her family and even a few other bystanders were watching. Her family was giving encouragement and expressing sorrow. “It’ll be okay, It’ll only for a week, Be strong and you will make it”. One said. Another said, “I love you and I’m sorry you don’t deserve this”. Some of the bystanders took out their phones and started recording. It was a very embarrassing time for Shyanne. Shyanne was naked and tied up to the point that she couldn’t move when the police officers picked her up and slid her into the trashcan. She slipped down feeling the cool plastic on her skin as she sunk to the bottom. There was hardly anything in the trashcan because it had just been emptied. Her crying continued as she watched the swing lid come over her and then she heard a click as they padlocked the lid onto the can. She was really stuck now, she was just garbage now for a week. For whatever reason through her tears she felt an excitement building inside her, although she tried to suppress it. It wasn’t long before most of the bystanders dispersed. Some of her relatives dispersed but some stayed and talked to her through the can. She couldn’t reply back because of the gag in her mouth, though. Her father hugged the can and pressed his tear filled face against it and expressed his sorrow over the situation. It was at this moment that the first person came up to the trashcan, ignoring the crazy crying man that was hugging the can, and threw his half eaten ice cream cone into the garbage. Shyanne saw light briefly as the swing door came open and she felt something cold suddenly as the ice cream hit her skin. She had an involuntary orgasm when this happened. Nobody noticed but she still turned bright red and felt very embarrassed. Eventually all her relatives left except her mother, who sat next to the garbage can in a chair as if looking out for her daughter. Her mother watched as many people came by to get rid of their trash. She watched as they threw trash onto her daughter. When they did this she would protest and tell them that that her beautiful daughter was in there. Her mother reluctantly left though after the security guard escorted her out for ‘disruption’. Most of the mall had closed at this point so Shyanne was left alone. She had stopped crying and accepted that she was just trash for the week. She had started to get stiff and hoped that she could make it for 6 more days. The next day came along and people started to fill the halls. For some reason Shyanne had another involuntary orgasm last night when the janitor opened the garbage, looked down at her, ignored her, and pulled the bag out. The janitor then put the bag on the floor and crushed the trash down as much as he could. Shyanne, then in the afterglow of an amazing orgasm, felt herself get stuffed back into the can and locked in. To the janitor it was just trash. Throughout day 2 Shyanne cried periodically and had plenty of orgasms that she despised having. She tried to deny her sexual feelings for objectification but she was losing the fight. Throughout the day all sorts of trash piled up around her. In the morning mostly coffee and cups were thrown on her with the occasional paper plate or half eaten food item. Sometimes she would have boxes shoved onto her which sometimes hurt. From afternoon to evening she would have food thrown on her and candy wrappers, plastic bottles, paper products and just about every trash item she could think of. Day 3 & 4 went about the same. The trash in her bag was now packed tightly around her from the janitor packing it at night. The only eventful thing that happened to Shyanne during these days was when a man peed into the can because of a dare from his friends. Although disgusting Shyanne drank it because it was hard for her to get a drink in the trashcan. Her parents came around frequently to comfort her throughout her ordeal. On one occasion her father accidentally spilled ink on his shirt. He was playing with a pen and it exploded. “Ah crap this was my favorite shirt”. he raged. ...

Note: This story has a good and a bad ending. Katie looked out the window with lust at the big pile of garbage that had accumulated in the middle of the cul-de-sac . “They said that they won’t be able to collect the trash for another few weeks,” Said Ron, her husband. “That gives us plenty of time to let you play in that big pile of garbage, if you want”. Ron said to Katie. ...

Laura is a young girl that lives in an apartment with her boyfriend, Zachary. They love each other and are very sexually compatible. Laura knew of Zach’s trash fetish and she tried her best to make him happy. Laura usually wasn’t too interested in bagging her boyfriend but did it anyways because they would usually have great sex afterward. Mostly it was just bagging for a few hours before he was released. ...

Lily’s parents had finally had enough. They had given their daughter plenty of time to get her life together and do something. Just after turning 18 and finishing highschool Lily had turned into a lazy bum. She ’tried’ to get a job and wasn’t able to get a boyfriend. It wasn’t that she was unattractive, it was just that she was lazy. She had become useless so finally her parents had decided to draw a line. They told Lily when she turned 20 that if she didn’t get a job, move out, or do something with her life then they would get rid of her, Of course Lily didn’t take her parents seriously. Lily’s parents Vicki and Lonny were having a big party this weekend but before they could have the party they decided it was time to get rid of their now 21 year old daughter. Friday evening Lonny came home from work with a large garbage can in the back of his truck. He quietly moved it to the front door before entering the house to find the family gathered in front of the TV. Lonny tapped Lily on the shoulder and asked her to come to her room for a talk. When in the room her father solemnly informed her that he planned to throw her away tonight. Lily immediately ran to her bed and buried her face in her pillow in tears. Lonny wasn’t good with words and never was, his attempts to get her up to follow him to the kitchen failed miserably. “We’ve given you chance after chance to do something with your life. You had a responsibility to yourself and your family to do something productive. Now your opportunity is gone and the only thing you can do to make up for your uselessness is to follow me to the kitchen so that we can get you in the garbage can!” ...

She could not move. She wanted to. But could not. The blindfold and muzzle. The tightness of the mummy like bag that held her limbs. All suppressed her desire to be free. A light came on seeping through the blindfold. “Good morning Ms. Lake.” said a voice she despised. Simon. Cerebral Simon. “MffT” “Yes. I Know. But you are recovering. Well some say it is recovering. Your hate of me is the last shred of defenses you have left. In fact I wanted to start the day a little early.” ...

“Girls, you need to clean up your room!” Mom shouted to Beth, Julie and Stacy. “I’m not going to let you go out with your friends until that mess is cleaned up. I have some errands to run so Julie is in charge.” Julie and Beth were older than me, but we shared a fairly large room. We knew the room was messy so we figured we had better start doing some cleaning. Mom had left a box of large trash bags for us to clean up the mess. ...

(nb: Stultify: To cause to appear stupid, inconsistent, or ridiculous.) ‘All right.’ Moretta thought while she had to gulp down her Masters manhood. ‘He’s using my mouth so it can’t be as worse.’ Moretta was on her knees, her mouth widly opened by a huge ring gag. She was nude except for the collar of her Master. Her head was still in pain from the recent hit she took. Only a few minutes ago she got woken up by her Master using aromatic salt at her nose. At this time she was in his living room, but she couldn’t remember how she got inside of his house. Then she was on her knees down into his basement where he put the ring gag on her and started to please himself with her mouth. ...

It got worse. After reading a few stories about my fantasy, it got wild. By that time it was occupying my mind more often than it should be. Sure it was a hot fantasy, it made me always wet and so on, but I thought it was time to give it a break. But how? Talking with my family about it? No! Talking with my friends about it? Also no! So what should I do? ...

Here is my fantasy, my idea, ( my desire???) my story, I hope you like… and… sorry for my bad english ( I am italian)… hope not too many mistakes, please let me know what you thought of my story. A normal day for slave Francesco, the alarm clock ring at 6.30am… as usual! Slave got out of bed went to the bathroom to shave and wash and do his needs. He wore a plastic chastity belt that allowed him to piss. He was naked with the exception of leather collar, and leather bracelets for wrists and ankles. ...

Tina loved all things plastic, all her furniture and everything she wore was plastic, she didn’t know why she had started as a child wearing plastic rain coats and progressed from there. Now 24 Tina only wore plastic, vinyl and PVC clothes and shoes, her favorites were all clear but she could only wear clear underwear outside her house with colored items on top but when she was home she almost always slipped into something clear or transparent that hugged her body making her feel wonderful as she walked around in her high heels. Tina had many cat suits and tried to wear one everyday loving the way they hugged her entire body and would get all foggy the longer she wore them. ...

Vicki looked at the clock. Eight minutes to go. If she could stop time she would have. What would it be? The pleasure or the pain? Straining to look to her right. Her husband must be facing the same quandary. Left or right. If she tried to say anything she would be shocked. The collar had a acceptable sound levels set. It also detected the vibration of vocal cords. Not only would it hurt her but him as well. She loved him too much to hurt him and he to her. ...

I have a pretty good life, being young and married to the man of my dreams. He was such a successful business person and he has provided for me well. When we did our finances, we figured it would be better for me to not work. Our agreement was he would take care of making the money if I would tend to the house cleaning, yard work, pay bills and cook the dinners. We’ve been married for a couple of years and enjoyed our lifestyle even though my husband would often travel. ...

When Jessica came to her head was foggy. As she took in her surroundings she tried to clear her mind to remember the events that had led to her being in the predicament she was now in. She had left work a little later than usual, around 5pm and began her usual walk to the train station. She had her headphones on full blast, like every day when she made her journey, she hated hearing the outside world and preferred to be lost in a world filled with music where every word had a meaning and told her a story. It stopped the boredom more than anything. She hadn’t seen him, just like every other night he had been watching her. He knew her usual route off by heart. Almost every day she left work at 4.30 and made the usual trip through the housing estate, past the old factory that hadn’t been used for at least 25 years. Every night she walked past it wondering what it would have been used for, imagining what it looked like inside. Tonight she would know. ...

It all started out by my going online to find some information about rubberdolls, the kind where the entire body is covered in a delicious layer (or more) of shiny latex. I’d come across the idea whilst surfing around the internet and looking at various sites, when I came across a website with stories about rubberdolls, at first I didn’t know what they were, just the name intrigued me, I spent many hours reading and rereading the stories, my sex becoming moist and the overall feeling of being turned on by this. The afternoon turned to evening and I continued to follow links to various sites including a dollification forum and chat room. ...

Part 1: A Bet is Placed It had been our most successful fetish weekend so far as we had 3 other couples staying with us. Our main meal together was on Saturday night and this had gone well, with several of the submissive members being suitably restrained. A slightly competitive edge had crept into things at this point, along the lines of ‘my sub or slave is able to cope with more CP, more layers of rubber, more severe bondage, or less air’ than yours. This had in turn lead to a discussion about people become kinky and why some of us, enjoy the more dominant role, and others a submissive one. We also discussed among other topics if it is necessary for a Dom to switch from time to time to keep an edge in the play. So as you can imagine, it was a very convivial and kinky evening. ...

Part 1 Miyuki awoke with a jolt as the thick silk comforter was ripped from her body. Her eyes opened and in the darkness of the room she saw shapes move about. Strong hands gripped her arms and legs and forced her on her back. She opened her mouth to scream, but any sound was cut short by a large rubber ball gag forced into her mouth. She heard a soft female voice in the darkness. ...

Brenda started awake. She heard a shuffling sound, felt rather than saw a body looming over her bed. Someone was in her room! She drew breath to scream. Something–a gloved finger?–touched her upper lip. “Hush, my dear,” a jovial voice said, “It’s all right.” A sourceless light bloomed, and Brenda goggled at the impossible figure bending over her. “S-Santa Claus?” she whispered. “I bring tidings of joy!” he continued. “This year has been so miserable for so many that the Powers of Christmas have decreed that as many people as possible shall have the secret wishes of their hearts granted.” ...

The girl on the kneeler wore the plain, gray dress of a novice. She faced the corner of the small, empty room and prayed the prayers she had been taught, especially the prayers of contrition. The door opened. “Sister.” The girl rose and followed the nun into the next room. This room like the other was small, windowless, lit only by a large candelabra perched on a small table. Next to the table sat the abbess, her face bathed in the soft glow. ...

From His point of view: As she drove up to the hotel parking lot at 8am on a Saturday in her little Hyundai Accent, I stood at the window looking down. This is going to be a fun few days…. We met online about a month ago – it was a vanilla chat site – nothing overtly adult about the conversation. She had broken up with her ex a few months earlier, and just wanted to talk to people. ...

(story continues from Finding the Right Trash Mistress 4) Part 5 “Hello there slaves wetting themselves over my slaves stories. I am Mistress Monique” “My slave is a bit tied up being compacted right now, so I thought that it would be only fitting to tell my side of this wonderful arrangement!” “Oh this part excites me the most, the compactor is crushing all the black bags flat into the bin behind my slave, Oh watching the force of the blade pushing my slave deep into the bin to be trashed for two days till we get him out, but as far as he knows he is going for a ride to the landfill permanently! OH I do enjoy tormenting his little mind!” ...

I just recently moved into an apartment complex. It’s amazing how many people from all walks of life one runs into here. I am the newbie on the scene around here and I am trying to expand my circle of friends and also get to know my neighbors. I brought over cookies as a sort of a break the ice sort of thing and I went next door where I met this one neighbor who caught my attention early with her beauty and of course her smile. She was pleasant to talk to and we talked about all sorts of subjects and the awkward first introductions. ...

I was lonely and looking online for a dominant girl that I could worship and take care of. My life alone was not worth it anymore and I decided to look for a girl that needed a personal slave to help and worship her. After months of effort I was successful at finding a gorgeous girl; a perfect 10 on her profile picture! She wanted me to be her live-in slave and to worship her and service her needs. She commented that she was looking for a new slave to service her every need so I wasn’t sure if I was supplemental or a replacement. I was willing and ready to live a dream of worshiping a perfect 10 – Goddess Rachel. We setup a mutual meeting place at a mall and I was excited and nervous. ...

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Get It Unknown FF/m; D/s; femdom; captive; zipties; wrap; gag; glue; bagged; cocoon; transport; cartunk; breathplay; susp; torment; mast; climax; denial; reluct/nc; XXX I’m very excited, I have been called into the work of a Dominatrix I have been involved with for the last few months. Anna, my Dom, and Amanda, her lesbian partner, also a Dom, have a successful business in town. While I don’t expect a session at their work there may be one when they finish for the day. ...

Liz and Sam sat on opposite sides of the waiting room couch. They had frequently been together like this, but they rarely spoke to each other. Now it was nearly seven. Dr Perkins had been extremely busy that day and had to change their appointments to this evening. Liz wasn’t happy about it. She was still trying to quit smoking and although Dr Perkins had made a lot of progress, she still had this urge to light up. To keep that from happening, she began to chew her nails. ...

(story continues from Her New Position) This story continues the Male point-of-view version of “My New Position” and shows a darker side to the story… part one can be found here Part 2: One In, One Out My new dolly was now safely stored inside a sports bag inside my car’s trunk, waiting for me to take her to my home and introduce her to her new life as a rubberdoll, her objectification had gone surprisingly well, the subliminal messaging conditioning her to accept her new status in life, a mere rubber plaything to be used, played with and discarded when no longer in use, maybe stored or displayed but she will always remain clad in latex - my new rubber dolly. ...

(story continues from My New Position 2: Home Delivery) Note: This story is too hot for DeviantArt and has been banned LOL :) Part 3: Just Another Dolly I was still tied tightly to the bed when my new owner came into the room, he climbed on top of me and entered me, he finished himself off quickly and without any effort on my part as I lay there letting him use me, not that i could do anything anyway the way I was tightly strapped to the bed. Once he finished using me he left, without a second glance, this is what being a dolly is like I thought, I’m here to please my owner and dolly likes to please him ran the thoughts in my head. I was still clad in the latex catsuit that he’d found me in yesterday, all so long ago it seemed to me. ...

It had been a dream and, as dreams go, Loretta could see herself, actually see herself, trapped in the spandex sack. There were sleeves inside and her hands and arms were useless. There was no zipper and only one hole, the one over her mouth. But her mouth was full, filled with a penis gag. It wasn’t big enough to choke her, but she’d never had anything that big in her mouth - ever. Holes ran down the length allowing her to breathe. But she didn’t so much breathe as gasp. ...

My name is Harriet Alders and I am 24 years of age and have a good degree in Marketing and was lucky enough to get a really good job with a top marketing company and after two years I have been chosen as employee of the year and am to be presented with a prize at a very posh do at a large hotel and although I have all my clothes, my dress is wonderful and is a deep blue, all I need now is a pair of bloody shoes to match it hence my walking round the shops on a Thursday morning in pouring down rain getting absolutely soaked and looking like a drowned rat, I am just about to give up when I spot a shoe shop I had not noticed before and went off to see what they had got, only to find that as it was lunchtime it was bloody closed, I could not believe it and in the window were a pair that looked absolutely right if they had my size they would be great. ...

He looked at his watch. No one was coming. No one would ever come. It was only a matter of time, he thought, until word spread. He had loved magic since he was eight years old. Eight when the magic show took place in his home village, nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas. he forgot the details of his early life, a whole lifetime and countless miles away from his life now, but he’d never forget the day the magician arrived. No, that wasn’t true. He’d never forgot his assistant. ...

A possible sequel to My Garbage Contents: You by Emma I was sitting in a outdoor cafe, sipping my coffee when I spotted this women sitting across from me in business attire, her strawberry blond hair with brown roots was very attractive…. so I was wondering if I should approach you or not. So I walked over and asked you if you were alone, and if I could sit down. “If you wish to sit with me I do not mind” you said with a smile. ...

Mmm, a little downer can worm its way into any mood, right? I mean I shouldn’t complain - I’ve just been promoted, I’ve got the rest of today off, and I didn’t hit a single red light on the way home… yet now I remember that this week’s and last week’s trash has gotta be hauled out for tomorrow. As I park up and take the white and brown papers from the mailbox at the end of the driveway I contemplate on my current lack of a big strong boyfriend. My last one had no problems with these sorts of yucky man-tasks, so long as he was reminded of them. Oh well. My key twists in the front door lock as I consider hiring a cleaner. Could I get away with paying some loser minimum wage for cleaning my house? It’s only small… ...

The slave felt his heart pound as Mistress Gwendolyn zipped the rubber bag up and rolled him onto his back. He looked longingly towards her as she moved away; treasuring the look of her shimmering back and rear as she slowly moved out of sight. He took stock of his situation. He was in for it now that was for sure. Now that it was zipped, there was no way out of this clear latex bag. And what a bag it was. Somehow the workmen had lined the bag with over a thousand pinprick points which poked into his back, his ass, the backs and fronts of his legs, his chest, his nipples, his arms, even the soles of his feet and his palms. Thanks to the various sleeves in the bag, he couldn’t move his arms or legs - not that he wanted to. Those pinpricks made any movement painful. Of course lying in one place was painful too! He tried to flex his toes and fingers, trying to assert some control over the pain assaulting his body and discovered (yet again) that the rubber toe cuffs immobilized his toes and the finger sheaths did the same to his fingers. No, he really couldn’t control (or even avoid) the pain of the pinpricks at all. Her slave stretched his jaw a bit trying to adjust the rubber butterfly gag in his mouth and met with as much success as his efforts to flex his toes. Mistress Gwendolyn had put excellent sound blocking earplugs into his ears and then had pulled a quite intense very thick rubber hood over his head. She left the attached blindfold off, but she had snapped a rubber butterfly gag into place and inflated it so his cheeks were puffed out and his tongue was immobilized. All he could do was grunt; words (or screaming) were impossible. Mistress Gwendolyn floated back into view carrying a tube. Oh, did she look amazing. He turned his hooded face with difficulty to better drink her in with his eyes. She was glistening in her highly polished black rubber catsuit. The suit was zipped down in front to her black and white corset and the swelling white of her magnificent breasts was partially visible above the corset. She turned to look at him and he could only see her eyes and that lovely mouth as the rest of her head was covered in a black and white ponytail hood that matched the corset perfectly. The sight of her inflamed her slave’s lust and her cock strained mightily against the metal cage SHE had locked her property into. His Mistress smiled, turned and he heard the click of her sandaled heels as she went out of sight down to the end of the table. Suddenly, he started as he felt her fingers ever so gently stroking her cock through the bars of the chastity cage. At this point, her chastised property was the only thing attached to him that was exposed. Other than that cutout at his crotch, every square inch of him was covered in heavy latex. He moaned in pain and frustration as Mistress Gwendolyn ever so gently and ever so rhythmically stroked her cock. His desire for her was uncontainable. Yet the cage contained it. The swelling was crushing the ball and causing him an unbearable mix of desire and agony, but there was nothing he could do as she stroked, stroked, stroked her property. Finally, Mistress Gwendolyn stopped and took her hand away. After a few seconds, he dimly heard a noise through the latex and the earplugs and then soon after that felt the air start to fill his rubber prison. The sack she had locked him into was inflatable and the compressor was slowly filling it with air. As the bag filled out, at first the equalizing pressure relieved some of the intense pressure points of the pinprick. But this was temporary. As time passed, the pressure in the bag grew greater and greater. His body started to lift off the table as the air worked its way underneath him and pushed him away from the table. After a few minutes he floated there, surrounded on all sides by a cushion of air. He no longer felt the certainty of the table. That feeling was replaced by the sensation of the thousand pinpricks each poking his body in a different place. With the pressure equal on all sides, none of them were stronger than another, so none of them obscured the others. He could feel them all. He truly was a human pin cushion with small stabs in his soles, the inside of his arms, his thighs, his back, his ass, his nipples, everywhere. Well almost everywhere. His face just had to deal with the jaw-breaking gag and her cock was imprisoned but not in pain (yet). Mistress Gwendolyn stopped inflating the bag and smoothly started passing rope back and forth over the rubber bag, lashing her slave securely to the table. Within a couple of minutes the task was complete. He was going absolutely no where no matter what she did to him. With each pass of the rope, the pressure tightened and the pinpricks drove deeper into his flesh. Yet the pressure was still equal all around so the pain just grew all over his body. He tried to wiggle to avoid it somewhere, anywhere, but he could not. There was no escaping his Mistress or her pain. Suddenly she appeared before his head. Her cock surged again desperately. Oh, how much he wanted her. He longed to be out of her cage, to press her cock against her, into her, to feel her hands, her feet, her tongue, her body on it. He wanted to give her pleasure and get pleasure from her. ...

It was turning out to be a normal day like any other in the office, that is until the courier arrived at my desk carrying a parcel. You see I work as a Personal Asssistant to my boss, or secretary in the old terms. He runs a successful engineering & manufacturing business, our office is at the front of the building with the factory located below and behind the main offices. ...

It had started out innocently enough. They’d gotten a carbon nanofilm devkit at their hackerspace, and started to play with the remarkable material. It was advertised as being as cheap as plastic, but 100x stronger, and true enough, the opaque black film was nearly impossible to rip. Even cutting it was hard, as it liked to slip between the blades of scissors and flexed away from knives. You had to use a rotary blade on a hard surface or set up a nanozipper to walk up the sheet and cleanly split it. After a few experiments with it, the roll of material had gone on a shelf, but he’d been thinking about it for weeks. Eventually, he got up the courage to try something. One night, he arrived at the space late, and got the rolls of material and the nanozipper and splicer out. First, he cut a few panels into a square roughly the size of a large bin liner. Next, he used the nanosplicer to reseal those edges, leaving only one edge open. Thinking a minute, he made a small incision in each side of the bag, to make sure air could get in. As he fluffed the bag in the air, it filled and floated down just like a regular trashbag would do. It looked just like any other bag, albeit it was a bit smoother and shinier. No one would notice it. He cleaned up the materials, and put the splicer in one pocket, and the zipper in his other, and exited the space. He turned and pulled his keys out of his pocket to lock the door, and turned with a start. Something had made a noise. He looked around, but there was no one there. Anyway, he was just leaving like a normal person - he just happened to be holding what looked like a trashbag. Satisfied that he was being paranoid, he headed down to the loading dock, where dozens of bags of trash were piled, waiting for pickup a few days later. Carefully, he lifted a few of them, and took a few steps into the pile. He arranged them around him, so that he had a nice soft bag under him, and a few squishy, heavy bags around him, nearly ready to topple down. He’d dreamed of doing this for years, becoming part of the trash. He’d actually done it once or twice in a big, regular bag, but it was so easy to rip out, he was desperate to try it inside the nanofilm. He’d play safe, of course, with the zipper in his pocket, but in this new bag, he could push and tear and thrash, and it would hold him inside. Getting excited, he fluffed the bag open once more, and then sat down inside it. Now it was time for his preparations. First, the gag. He popped a large black rubber ball into his mouth, and then wrapped a strip of the material he’d measured carefully around his neck and lower face, joining the ends behind his head. He fished out the splicer, and it walked up the plastic slowly, pulling the sides together until it was sealed around his face. He breathed through his nose, and felt the silky plastic conform to his mouth. He tried to spit out the ball, but it wasn’t going anywhere. He tried to make noise, and a muffled “mmph” came out, but he knew that was only a matter of time. ...

I caressed Miriam’s shoulder gently and kissed her neck, then taking the duct tape I tore off a long strip. She glanced over her shoulder at me as I began to grin and she put her hands together behind her back. I wasted no time and quickly wrapped the tape around her wrists. She gasped as I wound another strip of the tough sticky tape, just above her elbows. Admiring her now helpless arms for just a moment, I pulled her back against myself and ran my hands across her flat stomach and up to her firm round young breasts. She gasped as I teased her nipple and quivered as I gave her firm pinch. She turned slowly in my grip and we kissed, a lingering kiss. ...

It was the money. The damned student loans ! With the recession, finding a job right out of university that paid enough to take care of them, a practice that had gone on for generations, was no longer valid. Jessica was now only weeks away of becoming a deadbeat in the financial system for defaulting on her loans, as well as on some credit card debt she’d accumulated to try and service the loans until she found a decent job. So, every day, for want of anything better, she scanned Craig’sList for ads that might give her a few days’ reprieve. ...

Orignally posted 2010, this story now revised and expanded Part 1: A Search Through The Dark Side “Hello and welcome to a new episode of “In The Flesh” and this week we are in the hotspots of Paris, aaaahh the city of love. But we are here on a special reason. Rather than show you the sexy and pervy side of the city, tonight we are on a mission. We hope to take a walk along the darker side of the street. Like all you folks we have been trawling the Internet and looking for some new interesting sex sites and as you know our programme has always sought out the unusual and bizarre.” ...

Dinner was fantastic. It was expensive, but you get what you pay for. Besides it was our anniversary. Miriam and I had been together for two years now and it was worth the celebration. I looked over at her across the table. She was such a pretty young thing. As I savoured and finished off the last of my steak, I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. She smiled sweetly at me. She loved me and would do anything for me, that was clear. Why I don’t really know, I’m quite a bit older than she is. But I’d reward her tonight anyway. ...

The pink delivery van pulled up to the curb, the large FeD Ex logon in stark black on its side. “He’s here.” “Aw, Dad, do I have to?” “Mina we’ve been through this. Driving would take days and flying is too expensive.” “But, Dad-” “No, Mina.” “Mom?” “Honey, we all agreed.” The doorbell rang. “Hi. I’m Jeff. If you would just read and sign the form we can be on our way.” ...

It was dark in here, really dark. My eyes were covered twice over and the lights would be off anyway - it’s rare these days to be swallowed up by that much black. Thankfully it didn’t smell bad in here… most of what I could smell was my own body, and that’s not unpleasant at all. All I could taste is the gag, and all I could feel is slick plastic: that, I felt everywhere. That, and nothing else. Very little to hear either, except some household utility mechanism doing its 24/7 thing. Honestly, the whole experience is usually pretty restful. ...

Chapter 1 – A Decision Made “I don’t see that we have any other option.” “No, me neither. She’s just out of control. Look, ever since her dad, well my dad died, she’s gone off the rails. A street kid, can you believe it, and she’s not even a kid she’s 19 and she’s wasted a year of her life already. And the vice cops now say she’s on heroin, god, what a mess. This is the only way we can get her back, Al.” ...

“What have we got, Roscoe?” “Mostly nice. Five million, six hun-” “Cut to the chase, elf!” “Yes, Sir, Santa, er, Sir. We’ve got six in Brazil.” “Really?” “Yep.” “How convenient.” “Yes, Sir. Two prostitutes, a secretary, a dental hygienist, and two divorcees.” “Okay, nobody will miss the whores or the divorced girls. Oh, wait, kids?” “No, Santa.” “Good. What about the other two?” “Secretary is a temp. No one will miss her. As for the dentist, well, let’s just say he’s not a real dentist. People get their teeth cleaned, but it’s just a cover. They’re there for other, er, medicinal reasons. If you catch my drift.” ...

“Welcome aboard, Miss….?” The well shaped woman in the metallic silver jumpsuit smiled as she strode up the ramp. “Stella will do,” she said. “As you wish. If you will follow me, the captain has instructed me to show you how we process our merchandise. This way, please.” Striding along the passageway, the woman named Stella watched as her guide cast quick glances over his shoulder. “Something about this making you uncomfortable?” ...

Part 1: First Bauble Dear Emporium Shop Owner, Here is account of my experience as you requested. The marble you gave me manifested a garment for my wife and my pleasure. I lay on the bed, naked, watching my wife holding the garment to her skin. When its impossibly thin and improbably silky texture touched her chest her eyes rolled back into her head and her legs wobbled slightly threatening to make her fall again. You could tell by watching her body react that even the merest touch of the cloth on any part of her sent waves of pure pleasure coursing through her body. I wanted to jump up and help her whenever I saw her will waver but my wife had foreseen this and warned me not to come close to her while she mustered herself to put on the garment. She had said that if she knew I was close or so much as saw me in the mirror that it would probably be enough to break her concentration. She also mentioned that if I touched her to steady her she would probably instantly break down in an orgasmic heap on the floor. I didn’t see a problem with this but she scowled at me knowing what I was thinking, she was after all determined to get the garment on so we could enjoy it together. Whatever it was. ...

(A Short Story) Beginning. “What…are you serious? Well fuck you then too. As a matter of fact Bobby, I know just what to do with you,” Kim said. I could hear her yelling and screaming over the phone. Of course, I heard those words, “I know just what to do with you”, from her before. When I heard those words, I simply hung up on her afterwards. I went to bed, rather comfortable with my decision to go our separate ways…. but I had no idea that it would lead me into the very hell that I have experience now…. for perhaps three years or so. And what might that hell be? I have since that very next day after our argument, completely lost all concept of time. It’s not just been three years of hell….. but also three years of humiliation and degradation. ...

(A Short Story) Beginning. “What…are you serious? Well fuck you then too. As a matter of fact Bobby, I know just what to do with you,” Kim said. I could hear her yelling and screaming over the phone. Of course, I heard those words, “I know just what to do with you”, from her before. When I heard those words, I simply hung up on her afterwards. I went to bed, rather comfortable with my decision to go our separate ways…. but I had no idea that it would lead me into the very hell that I have experience now…. for perhaps three years or so. And what might that hell be? I have since that very next day after our argument, completely lost all concept of time. It’s not just been three years of hell….. but also three years of humiliation and degradation. ...

continued from chapter 15 Chapter 16: Descent into Torment In the morning after a good night’s sleep between latex sheets within his cell the slave reported to the Mistress after showing obsequence to her by kneeing and placing his helmeted head on her rubber booted foot. “Mistress, the subject is progressing well, in the last 24 hours there has been little physical activity apart from that expected from the input of the programme and his response to it. It would seem that he is now deeply confused and has lost track of both time and where he is. The earlier struggles noted already on the trace where the subject fought against his containment have passed, as have any contact with the reality of his situation. The auditory input has been gradually increased over the time he has been within the inflatable body bag to the point where it is now almost constant; both when he is asleep and conscious. It is clear that he now has accepted the messages contained within the programme believing that they are his own thoughts. In 6 hours he can be moved to the floatation tank and the second part of the programme begun.” ...

continued from chapter 16 Chapter 17: The New Regime “Right slave I believe it’s time to release my slave”. This was not a question rather a rhetorical statement. The slave fearful of any perceived challenge from him acquiesced to the statement and deferentially replied,” Of course Mistress, at once”. “We shall need to sedate my slave before releasing him. Then we can load him onto the trolley and return him to his cell where he can gradually come to. Your Master has told me that my slave will have no recall as to what has happened to him over the last 11 days; they will just not exist in his conscious mind, the conditioning will be total; he will be a completely re-educated slave.” ...

This story is released into the public domain, no rights reserved. Feel free to write a continuation, print it in a magazine, put it on a website, or do anything else you please with it. Notification of reprints or derivative works is requested, but not required. I’m a huge fan of GrometsPlaza - if you do use this story, a link back to the place where it was originally published on GrometsPlaza would be appreciated. - ...

continued from Marie Spending a Day in a Bin & Human Garbage The Letter The letter arrived on a thursday, but Marie didn’t notice it before friday. And it sure didn’t advertise itself - just a simple, white envelope with her name and address in front. No sender. The stamp was ordinary and the post office had marked it a few days before. Now of course a letter wasn’t a big deal in itself, but Marie didn’t receive many letters. After her father had died last year, she hadn’t received any letters at all! That is - of course she had bills and other kinds of official letters, but nothing like this. She drank a cup of coffee while letting the anticipation grow. ...

continued from part three Chapter 4: Rubber Slave After She had recovered and we’d lounged a little longer in the most lovely bed on Earth, Madame declared the beginning of the new day. We parted, with me going to the cellar to shower and change and Madame tending herself. We met again on the main floor where i had prepared a simple breakfast. She was dressed in one of her grey power suits and i was again in my Rubber prison. Sipping her coffee after the light meal my Mistress informed me of her plans. She was leaving for Germany that evening: a medical conference that She and her ‘date’ of the previous night were attending. It would last the week and She would be overseas for six nights; as i could not be left alone and Miss Collins also had previous commitments i was to spend the time in the care of John. ...

continued from part four Chapter 5: Twin Maids As a rule i much prefer to be told what to do or at least have a plan of action to follow but on that day i rather enjoyed the thought of several hours of freedom. After washing myself, the horse and the tack i redressed in my travelling clothes: black half millimetre stockings, panties and bra, the severe corset and short long sleeved heavy dress. To finish i laced up the spiky knee length stiletto boots and headed back to the main house. I felt very comfortable and at home as i prepared a light meal. Afterwards as i sipped a cup of tea at the kitchen table and watched the snow melting in the yard through the sunny window i realized how desperately i wanted to be with Rubber Madame again. Not since i had moved into her home almost a year ago, altering my life forever, had i been away from her astonishing and regal presence for more than a day. Now feeling happy and content in John’s kitchen, the weight of my love for Madame and our life overtook me like rising floodwater. I felt that somehow i’d almost been taking my new life for granted; plucked from boredom and loneliness and transported into Mistress’ world almost overnight i had adapted quickly to my newfound joy and very quickly forgot where i had come from and the strange series of events that had brought me the unimagined bliss of reuniting with my missing half. Brushing away a tear i gave my silent thanks and resolved to do my best to appreciate my new life and live up to Madame’s high standards. ...

continues from part seven Part 8: Desperate Escape Had this been any other time, Quinn would have been in heaven…. being fully mummified was a rare delight; being mummified and then locked into a rubber lined coffin was unheard of. Having someone else in the coffin with her was too good to be true. And yet, here she was, fully absorbed into one of her greatest fantasies. But this wasn’t playful or wondrous. It wasn’t a dream. This was a nightmare. Deep within her wrappings, Quinn could see or hear nothing; just darkness and an awful, awful silence that pressed down on her, reminding her that this was all she would know for the rest of her life, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could struggle all she wanted, but the bandages would keep her body tightly restrained. They were her jailers and guards, ensuring that she would serve out her sentence, and they could not be bargained with, nor would they listen to her pleas of mercy. They would be her constant companions for the rest of her life. Quinn cried, or tried to. The outside world she had known and loved was gone forever. It still existed, but she would never enjoy it again, it would move on, with people going about their lives, but she was locked away in this private, personal prison. Worse still, was knowing that she would eventually be forgotten. Others would forget about her, but she would still live in the darkness, serving her sentence. She cried again, and despite all the bandages stuffed into her mouth, a faint sob managed to escape, even though nobody would ever hear it. But apparently, someone did, for her companion shifted. Having only been constructed to hold one prisoner, the coffin made it hard for either to move. But move the second prisoner did, wrapping her arms around Quinn’s mummified body, and squeezing her as best she could, trying to give Quinn a comforting hug, reassuring her that even when locked up, at least she wouldn’t be alone. But there seemed to be something else. Even through all her wrappings, Quinn could sense that her cellmate was moving, apparently trying to do something. Exactly what, she wasn’t sure. She wanted to know what it was, but with her eyes, ears, and mouth sealed, there was nothing she could do. So, helpless, she lay back, and tried to figure out how she was going to get through all this without going insane. ...

continues from part eight Part 9: The Last Flight “Are you serious?!” Gromet yelled, glancing behind him, only to pick up speed as he saw the bandages enveloping the street behind them. Already the tower itself had been wrapped up, and within a few minutes, so would the entire city around it. If they weren’t fast enough, their group would join it as well. Vikki and Gromet ran, feet pounding the sidewalk as they fought to outrun the bandages giving chase. Yet, no matter how fast they went, the bandages were faster, and they closed the gap with each footstep, getting dangerously close to Quinn and the others. “Over there!” Vikki shouted, running toward an abandoned jeep. Gromet changed course and followed. Reaching the jeep, Vikki leapt into the driver’s seat, dumping Quinn in the back. “Hey!” Quinn shouted as she was banged about on the seat and support beams. “Sorry,” Vikki said, searching for the keys. Finding a spare set, she rammed them into the ignition and turned, causing the engine to turn over. Slamming the accelerator to the floor, Vikki sent the jeep tearing down the street, Gromet just barely managing to hold on. “Where are we going?!” he shouted. “Anywhere but here!” Vikki shouted, swerving to avoid several abandoned cars in the road before them. “You got any ideas?” “The airport!” Quinn said, struggling to wiggle herself off the floor. “We can go faster in the air than we can here!” Vikki spun the wheel, sending them towards the freeway. “Works for me.” The jeep shot up the onramp and onto the freeway, managing to gain some speed. Behind them all, the city was completely wrapped up as the bandages spread further, spreading out into the countryside, and even into the sea. But nobody was looking back; all eyes were focused on the road ahead, and the airport in the distance. “You have a plane?” Vikki asked. “No,” Quinn admitted. “Then what the heck are you going to do?” Gromet asked. “Hijack a jetliner?” “It’s worth a shot.” “But if we fail, we’ll be mummified like everything else!” “We have to try!” Quinn said. “We don’t have a choice!” Above, the sky rumbled, and through the thunder, Quinn thought she could hear the universe itself. It was a dreadful sound of tearing and gears being torn apart. “Keep going!” she yelled at Vikki. Shifting gears, Vikki went even faster. “And can someone get me out of this damn thing?!” Quinn said, both anger and fear giving her the strength to fight against her sleepsack. Behind them, the bandages surged down the freeway like a tidal wave, eager to overtake and engulf them all. But by some miracle, Vikki managed to maneuver the jeep past the stalled and abandoned vehicles in their path. Once, she glanced the side of a truck, nearly overturning them, but she managed to spin them around, and regain control, speeding away as the truck was enveloped and wrapped up. They reached the offramp and shot down, crashing through the three fences blocking the public from the runways, and shot across. There were numerous planes on the runways, ranging from small, one-person planes, to massive 747s. “Which one?” Vikki shouted. “That one!” Quinn said, pointing her head towards a corporate jet. It was medium sized, the personal luxury transport for a CEO long since mummified, and stood on the tarmac, just waiting for someone to take command. And by sheer luck, the doors leading inside were open. Vikki shot towards the jet, then slammed on the brakes as they got close, bringing them to a stop just outside the ramp. Not bothering to turn off the engine, she leapt out and grabbed Quinn, then ran to the jet, Gromet in tow. Behind them, the bandages reached the offramp, and started towards the terminal. Once Gromet had gotten into the jet, he slammed a button, bringing up the boarding ramp. “Please tell me one of you knows how to fly a jet!” he said. “No,” Vikki said, putting a still sacked Quinn into one of the luxurious seats, before running to the cockpit. “Still, cant be too difficult, right? Just start the engines, go really fast, and take off.” Plopping down in the pilot’s seat, she started flicking switches, hoping that one of them would get them going. Already, the terminal was starting to be wrapped, and though it’s larger mass would take the bandages longer to envelop, it wouldn’t be long before the runways and planes would start being claimed too. Vikki didn’t know if the plane would protect them from being wrapped, but she had no desire to find out. “Hurry!” Gromet said, flicking switches of his own. “I’m trying!” Slamming her fist on one of the buttons, the engines roared to life, and the jet jerked as it started to move across the runway. “Got it!” Vikki said, pulling the seat’s harness across herself. “Go strap Quinn in!” As Vikki steered the jet towards the longest runway, Gromet reached Quinn’s seat, and grabbed the seat belts, buckling her down so that she couldn’t move. In any other situation, being in bondage while on an airplane would have been an erotic thrill, but here, it only reinforced Quinn’s helplessness. All she could do was stare out the window, and pray that the others could get the jet up in time. “All right, hang on!” Vikki shouted as she spun the steering wheel. “Here we go!” Grabbing the accelerator, she pushed it to maximum speed. With a thunderous roar, the engines shoved the plane down the runway, the speedometer steadily increasing as they gained speed. Yet, the bandages that now swarmed across the planes and runways seemed to sense that the plane was taking off, for they increased speed as well, aiming to catch the jet. “Go faster!” Quinn shouted, peering out the window. “Faster, faster, faster!” Vikki kept a firm hand on the steering wheel, trying to get them to flying speed. “Come on!” Gromet said, struggling into the copilot’s seat. “Get us up!” “We’re not going fast enough!” Gromet grabbed the wheel. “The fuck we are!” With a yank, he sent the jet into the air. As Vikki had feared, their speed wasn’t enough. But somehow, they managed to stay airborne. The engines struggled, but their speed continued to increase, until they finally managed to speed away from the airport, leaving it behind to be mummified, along with the buildings, the city, and the nearby forests. For a moment, all was still inside the cockpit. The adrenaline surging through everyone’s systems kept them on edge, too tense to relax at their escape. It was Quinn who broke the silence. “Well, now that we’re all airborne and safe,” she said. “Can someone finally get me out of this?!” Glad for the distraction, Vikki managed to switch on the autopilot, went into the back, and undid the straps and zippers on the sleepsack, finally releasing Quinn, who quickly undid the seatbelts, and emerged from the neoprene, tossing the thing towards the back of the jet in disgust. “Finally!” She said. “If I never see one of those things again, it’ll be too soon.” “We’ve got problems!” Gromet called from the cockpit. Quinn went up, Vikki behind her. “What?” Gromet pointed out the windows. They all looked out to the ground far below. They had risen fast enough to get a vantage point that allowed them to see for hundreds of miles, and right before their eyes, the ground was being covered in white, as mile after mile was covered over and sealed within the wrappings Targonamey had unleashed. No matter the terrain, the bandages continued on, mummifying everything in it’s path: buildings, trees, animals, roads, and even rivers. At it’s speed, it would be a matter of minutes before everything below them was covered up. “So what do we do now?” Gromet said. Quinn went to Vikki, pulled out the sealed scroll Xesex had given her. “This thing… do any of you recognize it?” Vikki and Gromet looked it over, shook their heads. ...

Part One: Arrival Her eyes open, but nothing changes. It’s just as dark. She breathes in. When plants are caught in absolute darkness, a substance in them called auxin stretches their stems out, until they die. That’s why when you leave a plant in a closet it turns a ghostly pale, warped and disfigured. Our plant is stretching; she’s been in the dark for hours unknown. She slowly, progressively becomes more aware of her situation. She first realizes that it is dark; then she notices the cool feel of plastic against her exposed skin (that’s when she deduces her nudity); she then realizes that her hands are tied together behind her back. It is hard to breathe. ...

To understand the Gai Shift & to review the characters in this story, check out this useful guide: Gai-Shift Encyclopedia of Knowledge Point of Viewa Gai-Shift storylette Darkness falls away like a blindfold, likely because there had been a leather blindfold over your eyes. You blink slowly (for blinking is the only action open to you, strapped up as you are in your leather body suit, gagged with a thrusting penile plug, only your eyes exposed. The room hazing in the glare of overhead gaslights is tiled, harsh and institutional. ...

Michelle was a smart young woman, successful and pretty too. Sexy as hell actually, and she knew it, she had used it to her advantage many times. But she had a secret. A secret she wouldn’t even tell Mike, her boyfriend. She loved the success, the money and the comfortable life she’d built for herself. Then she had her secret side, her depraved side that she’d never shared with anyone. She loved to play a little game, she’d pretend she had nothing, was nothing. She loved to feel helpless, worthless and discarded. ...

I had convinced my wife to bag me up for a day while she cleaned up the house. Well I seemed to have done more convincing than I thought (or I really pissed her off). She started out Friday night by tightly wrapping my knees to my chest and my arms by my side with plastic wrap. Then she stuffed her sock in my mouth and duct taped my mouth shut. After that she rolled me over to a big 64 gallon black contractor bag and sat me down in the middle then pulled the sides up over my head and placed the folding flaps over me to block my vision of outside the bag. ...

continued from Chapter Five PART TWO – CAROL FINISHES THE STORY Chapter 6: I Become Monica’s Dominatrix and More I walked home in a bit of a dream, my bottom was still red hot under my latex panties, and my nipples were burning, but I felt wonderfully at peace. It had been a great session and I hoped many more were ahead. I went to work the next day, enjoying the discipline of doing that, and the money helped of course, but Monica was still in the back of my mind. A couple of days later in the evening I was going to call her, when the phone rang. ...

I was on my way to my first group session, one of those places where you all sit around in a circle and talk about your problems. I was going to the ‘I treat women like trash’ group, I had admitted I had a problem. That was the first step, right? It all seemed so straight forward when I arrived. The counsellor introduced himself at the door, shook my hand actually. I fetched myself a coffee, like some of the other guy’s there did and took my seat in the circle. The counsellor began the session, I was eager to hear what some of these guy’s were going to say. I sat forward, ready. The first guy stood up. ...

She could only watch as her husband fucked the young girl on the kitchen table. Not making love, but rough hard sex. All she could do is helplessly weep as she was forced to see it. He was doing it to be cruel. An act of merciless cruelty, just for her. It hurt her like she’d never been hurt before. He relentless thrust himself into the girl who kept turning to look at her, smiling and grinning at her. It hadn’t always been like this. He was caring and tender once, even during their bondage games that they both enjoyed so much. They’d been married for four years and dated for ages before that, they knew everything about each other. Except the one secret she’d kept from him. The one thing she was afraid to tell him. Then about six months ago she plucked up the courage. ...

continued from part 6 Part 7 We pulled into the driveway and I ran into the house to change while she set up the rest of the things she would need to play her part. It was already starting to get dark, so I decided that black would be best for sneaking. I pulled off my wind suit and crotch-rope, and pulled on a pair of black tights over my pantyhose, some black gloves, then put on a black leotard and slipped on my new black boots. There I was, Tonya Conway, Super Spy. I decided to start being sneaky right away, peaking out the windows trying to see what Anita was up to. She was nowhere to be found, but my Escape was in the field behind the house almost all the way back the tree line. She must have put it there. I was in the middle of trying to figure out why when the house went dark. She had turned off the power. This meant she had to be in the garage. If I could get to her and get her to tell me where the laptop was, I could make this a short night. I crept out of the bedroom and started down the hall. I got about half way down to the living room when a balled up sock hit me in the tummy. ...

(story continues from Away On Business 9: Bag To Bag) WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Authors Note: Just as a background whenever I was away on business Diane used to send me horny emails, often I would read these during meetings etc. As you can imagine it was quite distracting to say the least. I have made them into this series of stories called ‘Away on Business’. I bet you wished your girlfriend sent you horny emails like this when you were away on business! ...

This is my my first attempt at writing a fiction story, let me know what you think and if you’d like to see more. Her small wrists tugged furiously against the leather straps. It was really quite exhilarating to watch. After months of careful planning everything worked out perfectly and my new sex toy was exactly how I wanted her. She, of course, was not as satisfied with the situation as me and I couldn’t blame her. Being kidnapped and tightly bound doesn’t exactly ease the mind. Under normal circumstances I almost believe she would enjoy the tight bondage, but being forced to watch the horrible fate of her sister had thrown her into a panic. Her sister Krista was a year older and although I did enjoy playing with them together, I couldn’t resist showing the younger sister, Catherine, exactly what I had in store for her. ...

Kim loved to play this little game with her boyfriend. She’d leave Paul a little clue, go and hide somewhere and tie herself up with a bit of self bondage. As long as he found her in good time, his prize was her complete submission. She would be his deviant slave and obey his every command until the following morning. She loved this little game and he was due home from work in just over two hours. It was time to play. ...

(story continues from Site Canteen) Part 2 I slept soundly during the night, or for a number of hours anyway, but at around 7am, I began to come back to the waking world thanks to the noises of the construction site around me. Despite being sealed in plastic and buried in the canteen waste, the beeping of the machines, and the sounds of the men talking came through. At first, I was disoriented and did not know where I was. Feeling the waste pressing around me, and the sheen of sweat on my skin, I began to panic, and tried to thrash around. This was a useless attempt, as the waste had me pinned under its wet weight, and trying to move was virtually useless. ...

continued from Marie Spending a Day in a Bin Stuck The sweat made tracks in the drying dirt on her body making her skin itch and prickle. There was little she could do about it - her hands still locked to the grill grate that had first shielded her from getting hurt by bottles but which had later added to her humiliating predicament. She couldn’t even complain as the ring gag was still keeping her mouth painfully open leaving it exposed to dripping goo from the grate. ...

It was late summer and Denise was lying on the back porch on her sun lounger chair, covered in sun cream, baking slowly in the warm afternoon glow. She was just taking advantage of some down time from getting her stuff ready to move out. It was a big change and she did have some trepidation at leaving her long established home. It is a bit daunting when you see all your life packed neatly away in boxes; all those treasured memories, souvenirs, and collectables. Some may call it rubbish, but to you they are a part of your very existence. The removal men were due to come round the following morning and pack it all into the van before taking it down to the shipping dock. ...

Anne pushed the covers aside and slid out of bed. She pulled the thin gown over her head, reached for her hair brush, and stepped in front of the mirror. Anne frowned. What’s wrong with me? It’s not right that the younger sister should marry before the older. Yes, she is the pretty one, but I’m not ugly. More handsome than pretty, but Mother is more handsome still and she married Father. I’m neither skinny nor fat. I see the way men look at me. ...

Anne pushed the covers aside and slid out of bed. She pulled the thin gown over her head, reached for her hair brush, and stepped in front of the mirror. Anne frowned. What’s wrong with me? It’s not right that the younger sister should marry before the older. Yes, she is the pretty one, but I’m not ugly. More handsome than pretty, but Mother is more handsome still and she married Father. I’m neither skinny nor fat. I see the way men look at me. ...

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death Master Ian prepares his new little slave girl for her captivity. This play is going to be one of endurance and layered confinement. Combining all of her masters techniques both in breath play and bondage. Jenni’s body shivers in anticipation at what is to come. So many items laid out on the bed, she gulps at the mere thought of being encased in all that. ...

Georgia stirred and groggily woke from her slumber. What a night she thought to herself, must have been a good one. She didn’t remember drinking that much, but she’d been out cold for awhile she guessed as the light came streaming in through the windows. She tried to rub her eyes. She couldn’t move her hands. She could feel the familiar leather cuffs locking her hands behind her back. She blinked furiously. That’s when she saw her boyfriend, Paul at the foot of the bed pulling a strap tight around her ankles. ...

“Catherine!” Her husband Paul’s shout woke her from her fantasy. It wasn’t just a shout, he was yelling at the top of his lung’s. She thought it sounded like he was furious, she knew he was on his way to the bin. He was going to drag her out and she was going to be in big trouble, but she couldn’t help it. She loved to get naked, climb in and writhe around in the trash. She loved the way it felt against her skin, made her dirty and made her feel dirty. Usually she’d play for a couple of hour’s, she’d be trash until she was hot and horny. She’d bring herself to a climax before Paul got home from work, she’d be out and showered before he’d even know. He’d caught her a few times before, when she’d lost track of time. He was home early today and she was about to get caught again. ...

Christ, it must be Tuesday. I thought to myself as I felt Charmaine slide out of bed. She always thought that she was being so discreet, but I always noticed. I lifted myself onto my elbows and blinked a few times to clear my groggy vision. I looked at the clock, Six fifteen, bang on time as usual. The bin men had woken her up and I looked to the bedroom window to see her, as I expected gazing out of the window. ...

follow up from “The Christmas Tree” “Denise, you’re violet.” Which means I’d go last and get to watch as the piece is prepared. Anderson calls this “The Rainbow” because each of us will be a color: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. His Christmas tree was a big hit: ten girls forming a human pyramid, bound neck to foot with sparkly, green garland, a colorful, plastic ball encasing each of our heads, only our brightly colored tits hanging out. They were the “ornaments” and they were very popular, if the groping was any indication. The guys asked Anderson to come up with something else. They do a “theme” meeting monthly. This month: spandex. ...

continued from part 4 Part 5: Slave to Myself. I was still buzzing from last weekend. Finding it hard to concentrate at work. Finding myself thinking how I hated to be used. How I would hate to be a slave as that other man obviously was. Surprised that I could not get the thoughts out of my head. I wanted more! I wanted much more. I wanted to feel the tight constrictive bondage and worse still I wanted to be under her control. To be in her power. To be her slave! Oh hell, were did that thought come from. What has she done to me? ...

I just got back from my holiday in Florida, and had arranged a session with two of my Bear friends, here is how it went: I got in around 5 P.M. Friday and we started to play around 8 P.M. (not sure after bagging) We arrived at the corner store around 9:00 P.M. (closed of course) and I go to the back room with them and slide into my black PVC thong, silver spandex hot pants and matching t-shirt. ...

The following story is a work of pure fiction. Any resemblance to any individual is purely coincidental. Part I I suppose I should start this with a brief introduction of myself. My name is Sara Greene and I’m 27 years old. I stand about 5’8” without heels and have a 34C-25-34 figure topped with strawberry blonde hair. My tits are nice and firm and I love to go to the store braless in just a thin t-shirt or romper and tease all the men. ...

“Abby? I’m Jack, a friend of Jane‘s. She said you were needing help with something?” “Oh, hello Jack. Please come in.” Stepping inside, Jack glanced around the small room. The apartment as a whole was small, somehow seeming suitable for a young woman fresh out of college. Finishing his brief examination, he turned back toward his hostess. “Thanks for coming over,” she was saying. “Did she tell you what it was I needed help with?” ...

This story was an entry into the 2011 Winter Fetish Story Contest - continued from [part three](http://www.Spandex Stories/storiesek/itwasdark3.html) Part 4: The Life Style. It was Friday night. I had been out with some of the boys from work. I was not drunk; however I had drunk a few beers. Well may be more than a few. So I was not concentrating as I got out of the car, closed the garage door and went to walk inside. So I tripped over the parcels stacked near the kitchen door. How the hell had they got there? ...

continued from part three Part 4: The Life Style. It was Friday night. I had been out with some of the boys from work. I was not drunk; however I had drunk a few beers. Well may be more than a few. So I was not concentrating as I got out of the car, closed the garage door and went to walk inside. So I tripped over the parcels stacked near the kitchen door. How the hell had they got there? ...

So here you are. Saturday. You just arrived in the city of Las Vegas. You are here for business, however you noticed that there is some serious kinky stuff happening in the “City of Sin” this week. You hope to have some pleasure in the weekends as well, therefore you planned to stay the weekend before and the weekend after the business week. The local BDSM munch is organizing the “Kinky Gambling Campaign”. Before your trip you ordered the brochure, to see what is happening this week. ...

Story entry in the 2011 Winter Fetish Stories Contest So here you are. Saturday. You just arrived in the city of Las Vegas. You are here for business, however you noticed that there is some serious kinky stuff happening in the “City of Sin” this week. You hope to have some pleasure in the weekends as well, therefore you planned to stay the weekend before and the weekend after the business week. The local BDSM munch is organizing the “Kinky Gambling Campaign”. Before your trip you ordered the brochure, to see what is happening this week. ...

Another tale of Mistress Messiér’s household My name is AJ Pine, and all I wanted was a cupcake. Oh sure, I’d heard rumors about the sort of things that happened in Mistress Messiér’s house. But I didn’t take them very seriously. The money was good, and plenty of staff made the hours easy and the work light. Okay, sure, all of us running around in black PVC maid uniforms was kind of strange; but I looked smashing in mine, and yay rich weirdos, am I right? But if there was one thing that Mistress was famous for, it was her dinner parties: and not the main course, either. I mean, those were wonderful enough, and there was always enough left over for the staff to pillage. I think that was intentional. But the desserts! Oh lord, the desserts. Chocolate cakes, layered until they should have fallen over. Chocolate cream pies, vanilla cream pies, and lemon meringue all boasted the fluffiest of toppings, and sat light as a feather in the stomach. We served rich, thick, smooth puddings; moist, delicate yellow cake and sponge cake cut into adorable shapes; and those cupcakes. One bite of the devil’s food cake and the amazing buttercream icing, and you knew you’d spend an extra day in Purgatory atoning. And that’s where it went wrong. You see, we never get any of those, the guests don’t leave us a scrap. And there’s tons of it. So, one day, a couple of evenings before the party, I crept into the kitchen on a mission. I’m a little short, so I had to bring a step stool; but in the top cabinet hid my objective. I opened the door, and there was a tray of chocolate cupcakes. In no time I had the paper off one and half of it in my mouth. There wasn’t time to savor it, but it was so incredible! And then a shadow fell over me. Redheaded Iscah, supervisor for my section, stood over me with an angry expression and a threatening wooden spoon in her hand. I had to admit, scared as I was, that the black PVC uniform looked great on her too. Or… was the fear helping that? “I’m… um… sorry?” I said. “I don’t doubt that for a moment,” Iscah answered. “In fact, I’m sure you don’t know how sorry you are yet. But you will.” And she dropped the spoon, and in a movement I was completely unprepared for, grabbed me around the waist and slung me over her shoulder. Did I mention I was a bit short? Iscah… isn’t. I just hung over her with my composure completely gone. I remembered Mistress saying we could be canned for rules infractions, but a single cupcake wasn’t worth being fired for! Well… okay. It wasn’t the first. But my sad-kitty-eyes-look had done the trick with the other maids. Didn’t look like it would with Iscah. It wasn’t a complete loss. The backs of Iscah’s legs were quite lovely poking out from her pink-trimmed vinyl skirt, and I had some time to look at them as she carried me into the lift and it began to move down. When the doors opened, I quickly figured out that we were in the ground floor utility room - I could see a small pile of stuffed trash bags in the corner, rubbish that wouldn’t stink up the place until we took it out. Then I heard a creak, and a thump, and I slid down from Iscah’s shoulder… … into the depths of a huge black trash can, lined with a heavy liner and already holding a few small filled plastic bags that cushioned my landing. I couldn’t easily see over the the rim of the can. “What? What the hell is this? What are you doing -” I started to yell, but Iscah produced a ball gag from somewhere and swiftly, expertly fastened it on me. I could only grunt with frustration, and didn’t react in time either to her binding my hands together from fingertips to wrists with a small roll of plastic shipping wrap. Iscah reached down and grabbed a slightly smaller plastic trash bag that I’d been sitting in unaware. I say slightly, because she was able to bring it up over my head and twist-tie it shut. Her quick fingers poked a few air holes in the plastic, and the next noise sounded a lot like someone had equipped the can with a vent fan. “Sit tight,” Iscah sighed. “We’ll see how much trouble you are in.” A heavy thump sounded, it got dark, and I heard a metallic snick. This wasn’t good. Time passed, I have no idea how much. We don’t wear watches at work, and I didn’t have a chance of getting that lid open. I was getting plenty of fresh air though, and had resigned to waiting it out, when I heard steps, a filled bag being set down next to me, and the lock click open. And there was light! Iscah undid my bag, and took off the gag. I wasted no time. “I said I was sorry!” “That’s what you said the last time, and the time before, and the time before,” Iscah said. I didn’t know she knew about those. “Now the mistress will be short of desserts for her guests tonight, and you know how she loves her desserts.” “She’s got so many desserts, what difference did those make?” “Because those were for tonight. You know the rules around here, Pine. Get caught snitching desserts, you get canned.” Ohhhh. Cute. “I thought that meant I’d be fired.” I wiggled around in the can, making my bag rustle in the faint hope it would suddenly inspire Iscah to let me out. “Nope. Around here, you get canned. Now hold still.” She reached down to where I’d heard her set her filled trash bag, and when she stood, she held one of Mistress’ heavy, thick cream pies. Five seconds later, I realized with a shock that she had shoved that pie right in my face! The goo oozed to the top of my head, into my ears, down the neckline of my uniform, and into the bag where I sat. My bound hands did suffice to clear my eyes and nose. “Ack! What - what the heck was that?” “Mistress sent me down here to throw away some things. Too bad there was already something in the can…” “Some thing?!? Some one!” And then, dammit, she hit me with another pie. It was yummy: I couldn’t deny that. Hey… “That doesn’t look like trash to me!” “Well, you wouldn’t want actual garbage in there with you, right? Ewww.” The way Iscah said it left my own status uncertain. I had another thought. “Um… Those are awfully tidy pies for having been in the bottom of that trash bag.” “You talk a lot.” And she got it from I don’t know where, but Iscah picked up a big red bucket that I found was full of chocolate brownie batter, because I could easily taste it as it ran down my face and hair. “Oh… god… I can’t see a thing… what have you done to my hair?” “Funny thing that, you’ll find that its some of the best conditioner around. Not that you’ll see a shower soon.” And no sooner had I cleared my eyes and nose then that she-devil clamped two vanilla cream pies to the sides of my head, like a pie sandwich. “Noooo,” I protested vainly, “I thought we were running short of desserts…” “Heavens no. Not in this household. It’s the ones you got into that upset Mistress. Why, if you’d asked, I’m sure she’d have made you a cake.” Yeah, funny lady. “Why do I think that meant I’d have been covered in frosting and had little candles perched on me?” “At least you would have been safe from dripping wax! Speaking of cake,” and a huge mixing bowl overfull of yellow cake batter cascaded over my face, and down my shoulders, and I’m sure that witch got a ton of it into my cleavage on purpose. I could only cry out. “Ahhhhhh…” “My goodness - it really is noisy in here.” And she pied me again, and again. Would this never end? “And finally… you liked the cupcakes so much… Mistress arranged something special.” Oh no. One, two, three, a dozen, I lost count of how many of those cupcakes were cruched into my hair, my face, my ears, my bosom. To be honest, the one Iscah shoved in my mouth was kind of enjoyable. But when she finally got bored, I was a complete wreck. “That’s the lot. And now, time to take the trash out.” I couldn’t even speak any more, even without the gag. She closed the inner bag over my head, lowered the lid, and… no. Are you kidding me? No way. No way at all. My can tilted back, then rolled forward. I was moving. I called out again, uselessly. “I said I was sorry!” It didn’t matter. We bumped over the doorsill - that wasn’t fun - and I could immediately hear the patter of raindrops on the lid of the can. Finally, motion stopped, and Iscah opened my lid and bag again. “And there you go. Mistress said to take the trash out, and I did. You’ve got air holes, so you should be fine until she calms down and I can bring you back inside. Doesn’t usually take more than an hour or two.” Then… oh, then… Iscah kissed me. I couldn’t believe it! How dare she! After all that had just happened, how could she do that? And… and… how could I have liked it? Bag - closed. Lid - down. Lock - click. Fan - whir. Stuck in here in this nasty, slimy, pretty-good-smelling bag for two hours? Two whole hours? … That was a pretty nice kiss… I guess I fell asleep. I didn’t know what time it was when I awoke, so I started banging on the lid as best I could through my bag, and with my wrapped hands; it must have been two hours by now. After a short period, the lock clicked, and the lid opened. Bright light, blinding light! How long had I been in there? It was dark when she kissed me! Someone, I couldn’t see who, stripped the wrap from my hands and shoved a damp rag into them. I cleared a little of the gunk from my face, but once I could see, no one was there. My small step-stool sat next to the can, and I climbed out with some difficulty; my hands and feet were still slippery, and I didn’t want to fall. The utility room door stood open. I walked inside. From behind a hanging tarp sat a huge table of the desserts similar to the ones with which Iscah had tortured me, and a note. “My AJ, “I am aware of what has passed over the course of the night, and I feel you may have properly learned your lesson. “However, Iscah overstepped her bounds a few times, and we cannot have that in this household. She will be down shortly, and does not know you have been freed. Would you assist me with some correction? “With my appreciation, “Mistress M.” I looked at the pile of filled black plastic bags which still sat against the wall. My gooey face slowly wore a grin. The wheeled bin would have to stay outside; but now that I knew I was no longer canned… it was time for Iscah to get trashed. —– THE END —– ...

PART ONE – TIM’S TALE Chapter 1: From Bad to Worse and Seeking Help I’m not a bad person. All my friends will vouch for that. I’m quite bright, I have a university education and a job that really pays very well. I am 32, presentable, and some would say, not a bad catch. I have a pleasant demeanour, sharp sense of humour, am very tolerant of others and it takes a lot to push me to the edge. I’m not profligate, I have savings. I am generous and loyal with my friends. All in all I think I am very fortunate. ...

The year was 2013 and unemployment was over thirty percent and unsecured debt was outlawed. Many people, especially recently single women like myself, were in debt beyond their ability to ever repay. The state senate had quietly passed laws to protect their friends the bankers, and the governor had signed those bills so that he would continue to get their support. The new law also provided for a “debtors prison”, and had established the court system, and paid the judge I was now standing before. I was wearing only the rags they provided, that ironically would have lead to my arrest if worn on the street for indecent exposure. I was also plastic strap cuffed wrist and ankle, the former behind my back forcing my unrestrained breasts out through the holes in my thread bare “uniform”, and my ankles fastened to a ring bolted to the dirty floor. There was no jury of my peers, or lawyer for my defense, as both of them would have to be paid, and I was here because I couldn’t pay! I would have protested my treatment, except for the disposable bit gag in my mouth, ensuring my silence and adding to my humiliation… ...

continued from part one Part 2: It was Dark - And Getting Darker. I was at work; it was a perfectly fine autumn day, not a cloud in the sky or any worries in my head. I opened my email inbox and there it was with attachments. Shit it can’t be. She doesn’t know my work email. But somehow she did. Of course she did she had had access to my wallet for days. My business cards are in there. ...

Usual cavaeat of this being a work of ficition, do not try at home, this kind of shit will porbably kill you, etc. etc. Applies. Enjoy! That poor boy would never be found. Buried amongs piles of rubbish, bagged up like a worthless piece of garbage… well, that’s what he is now. Just another trash bag of compacted garbage. He didn’t make wise decisions, it just wasn’t something he was good at. He was in his early tweenties, had dropped out of college, and was basically chasing what highs he could. He’d hit the clubs of the city, and he knew where to score weed, booze, blow, and pretty much any other chemical worth hitting. He grifted the better part of his money from rubes that would pity him, and he drifted from couch to couch, not really caring where he ended up one night or the next. He was cute though, and he knew his way around the tender parts of women, so despite being a bastard he was often lucky. His lack of discrimination and his hedonistic ways proved to be his undoing. He was crashing with one of his freakier friends and was invited to go out to the local fetish club. He planned on rolling out with him, and then ditching after getting in the door. He’d been there before, and he did enjoy looking at the women. Be they leather clad and severe Dominatrices, or the more scantily clad submissives… It was all good to him. He figured he might get lucky as well. Either by landing a sub for a little suck and fuck, or a Domme for a little tease and light bondage… He wouldn’t complain. So he dressed, shaved and made himself look all innocent and pretty. He had young face and a pitiable way about him, so the ’lost boy’ angle worked well for him more often than not. He then went off to the club, riding the city buses through its desolate streets. He was greeted by a wall of cigarette smoke which mingled with the spicier scent of cloves. My Life with The Thrill Kill Kult was blasting on the sound system, asking rhetorically “Do You Fear For Your Child?”. The kid eased into his environment with an alarming kind of grace. He passed by the main floor, shooting a passing glance at the women and men that were getting flogged against the wall. He smirked and siddled his way to the bar, ordered a whiskey, and found a nice smoky corner to sit in while he looked for something to score… be it meat or drug. It wasn’t long before a very pretty woman, maybe a few years his senior and clad in a delicious vinyl french maid outfit, approached him. Leaning towards him to speak into his ear, she asked in the quietly loud voice demanded by all clubs of this sort “My Mistress would like to see you, will you come?” Sensing the clever little entandre in her invitation, the young man stood up and follow the woman. He was lead to a back corner where an imperious woman, maybe in her early thirties, greeted him with a pleasant, though slightly devilish smile. She was dressed in fine fetish gear… Black whale-bone corset, elbow length leather gloves, black leather skirt, knee high boots. “Hello there, boy. I am glad to see you were receptive to my Maid.” The boy just grinned and nodded to the Domme. “We’re bored of this place, and you look like just the kind of play thing that knows how to have fun. We’ll take you back to our place and give you the time of your life” the Domme explained. The young man just nodded his affirmation again. The Domme smiled wickedly, “But if we get tired of you, my Maid here will bag you up and throw you out in the trash!” she said in a sultury voice and winked at young man. He just chuckled, but if he had paid attention he would have noticed how worringly keen the Maid and the Domme seemed to be about this bit. So after reaffirming that he was game, they got their things together and the trio quit the fetish club. The Maid drove the car home, while the Domme sat in the back fondling her new found toy, “Shhh… don’t move… that’s right, like a good little toy” she whispered into his ear as she caressed him to rock-hardness through his jeans. By the time they got back to the Domme’s play space the young man was extremely aroused. This was going to be a good evening, he thought. Once they entered the play space, the young man saw all sorts of neat toys and items meant to torture and delight. The Domme began to strip the young man’s clothes off while the Maid went and grabbed a large 55 gallon black trash bag. The young man gave the bag a worrying look, but just grinned as the Domme caressed his now naked skin. “Shh… don’t you worry little lamb. We just want to keep your things together” the Domme assured him as the Maid placed the young man’s clothes into the trash bag. The Domme offered the boy two pills, “this is good medicine… It will help you enjoy yourself tonight”. One pill was ecstasy and the other percocet, a combination that would ensure that he was in a constant state of delight and arousal, but it would make it difficult for him to actually cum. The young man didn’t really know this, or really care. He’d taken drugs from strangers much more sinister than this kinky pair. “Cheers” he said before swallowing them down. The Maid brought the Domme a ball gag, which she quickly placed in the mouth of her new toy. “Toy’s don’t speak, we just use them!” the Domme whispered into the man’s ear. He was still quite aroused, and he stood around waiting to see what would happen next. Well… it was all a blur from there. The Domme and the Maid took their turns with their new toy. They fucked him hard, they fucked him slow. They spanked him, they flogged him, and one would masturbate while the other rode him. They used him up good, and being overstimulated, and with the little touch from the percocet not once did he cum… so he was rock hard and screaming for release by the time they seemed to grow weary of him. As he laid there, covered in sweat and at full attention, the Domme grabbed some wrist cuffs, and arm cuffs. She cuffed the young man’s hands behind his back, and after pushing him to the ground, she cuffed his legs. He just panted behind his gag, and looked at the Domme with the wild and tired lust of a person rolling hard on E. “Well… I think this boy toy is spent” she said as she looked down at him. She then turned to the Maid and said, “Get him ready for the trash… but make sure he enjoys it… he was fun, he deserves a squirt.” The maid nodded and left the room for a little while. As she busied herself grabbing some items, the Domme placed her booted foot on the spent young man’s chest. “You’re going into the garbage, little boy. Because that’s what you are… a worthless, little broken toy. We’re going to bag you up, little boy, and we’re going to throw you into our dumpster. Then we’re going to watch the garbage truck come, and dispose of you in its compactor. Maid and I are going to love waching you get compacted in the garbage. Then you’ll be off to the dump, little boy… where you’ll stay forever and ever as useless bag of compacted garbage!” The young man just stared at her in wide and wild eyed drug induced haze. The ecstasy was still coursing through him, so even the press of her boot felt like a buzzing bit of heaven. Some small part in the back of his mind told him that he was in too deep… that bad shit was about to go down. But he couldn’t summon the strength to fight, or to care, really. The Maid returned. In one hand she clutched lube, what looked like a butt plug, and some black duct tape. In the other hand she clutched a number of black garbage bags. She lubed up the butt plug, and gently slide it into the young man’s bottom as the Domme explained, “But you were fun trash, so this vibrator going to massage your prostate quite nicely. It will make sure you get off nice and hard as you’re being crushed in the garbage”. Next the Maid paritally unfolded one of the black trash bags and slid it under the man’s bottom. The Maid pulled the front of the trash bag up between his legs, and then using the black duct tape, she taped the makeshift trash bag panties nice and snugly into place. “That trash bag diaper will make sure the vibrator will stay in place… you also might find it nice to rub your little cock against as you’re getting trashed” the Domme explained to the doomed young man. The young man writhed around slightly. The slick trash bag crinkling between his legs felt like heaven as his skin was alighted with goose bumps, his cock strained against it’s plastic prison, and his bottom felt so full. He was overwhelmed by the sensations. The Domme pulled the young man up into a sitting position as the Maid whipped open a 55 gallon trash bag. He was very compliant as they manuvered him into it, and it easily engulfed him as he sat down. Another trashbag was opened, and he was manuvered inside of it, and finally a third thrash bag. The smooth plastic of the trash bag rubbed against his sweaty skin, and felt like a tiny slice of heaven. The Maid places a small tube for air at the top of the trash bags, and then closed the triple bags up sealing out the light for good. The Maid zip tied the bag shut, and he was now bagged up like trash. He was trash. He heard the maid and the Domme make love. They rubbed themselves against his bagged body, and they came more than once as he writhed in his trash bag, enjoying every sense and sensation as they delighted in what would become of him. After a while of playing with each other and with him the Domme said, “Alright, it’s time to get rid of this trash”. Together, the Maid and the Domme hoisted up their special bag of Garbage, and walked him out to the green dumpster by their apartment space. They tossed their special garbage into the side door of the dumpster, and he landed with a plastic thump among the other bags of trash. The bags rustled quietly as he writhed about, and his movement caused him to sink into the shiny, crinkling company. The Maid and the Domme watched him as they slowly caressed each other, keeping one another excited and just shy of orgasm. After a few minutes, the young man’s movements became less frantic, but still he wriggled about amazed, terrified, and amazingly turned on. After about twenty minutes or so, in the blue light of pre dawn, the garbage truck turned into the apartment complex. “Hear that trash? They’re coming to take you and ALL of these bags of trash to the dump. They’re coming to crush you up, like the worthless bag of trash you are.” ...

“Abby? I’m Jack, a friend of your mom. She said you were needing help with something?” “Oh, hello Jack. Please come in.” Stepping inside, Jack glanced around the small room. The apartment as a whole was small, somehow seeming suitable for a young woman fresh out of college. Finishing his brief examination, he turned back toward his hostess. “Thanks for coming over,” she was saying. “Did mom tell you what it was I needed help with?” ...

Rebecca looked nervously around the basement. No one was around, but she still blushed at the thought of getting caught doing what she was about to do. Well, the blush was part excitement and part embarrassment, but still it would be much easier if no one else in the building found out about her little game. In the basement corner squatted a nice big pile of stuffed shiny black trash bags - the building’s refuse for the last couple of days. Just looking at it made her heart race, made her squirm. She wanted nothing more than to be bound and stuffed in one of those soft shiny bags, to be left there for an indeterminate period to reflect on her position. For months she’d been thinking about it, and had some wonderful session masturbating to the mental pictures - now, on a cool Monday afternoon, it was time to do something about her fantasies! ...

She had been nervously walking up and down the street, unsure as to actually knock the door or not. She had to she thought to herself. She knocked the door. A man quickly opened the door. “Yes?” He asked gruffly. “Are you Doctor Vader?” She shuffled and asked nervously. “I am, and you are?” He abruptly asked. “My name is Georgia” She had barely said her name and the man was already swinging the door shut on her. ...

Georgia woke feeling a little groggy and unsure. She didn’t remember getting home from work the night before. She tried to stretch her arms, but she couldn’t. The fog in her mind clearing quickly now, unable to move her arms quickly realising she couldn’t move her legs either. Georgia’s panic rose as she took in her surroundings, she wasn’t in her bed, she wasn’t in her room, she hadn’t gotten home last night! She tried to call out but just a meagre whimper escaped her, she was gagged too. Fear overtook her and she tried to thrash and struggle, but it was useless her arms and legs tightly wound with black electrical tape, the rubbery tape unforgiving in her restriction. ...

I was going to be punished. It doesn’t matter now what I did, or why. What matters is that I lay on my back on a padded table, naked, blindfolded, and slightly shaky from the thorough enema she’d just given me. For some infractions, that would have been penance enough, but I know this one would be far more complex. She spread my knees apart and gently began lubing my rear passage. I felt the tip of something cool touch me and begin sliding inside: something long, cylindrical, and slightly textured. ...

Brad Palmer came from a working class background and had to hustle for everything he got. As a 3rd year law student at Northwestern he had already accumulated an astronomical sum in student loans. He had been working weekends as a waiter and had spent his previous summers working two jobs. This past summer he had landed an unpaid internship with Cox, Langley and Schmidt, one of the most prestigious firms in Chicago. This was a boon to his career prospects, but had made his financial situation all the more precarious. So it was with some interest that he came across the small classified add in the underground city paper, one Thursday evening. ...

My name is Jeff and it had been nearly three years since my ordeal at the hands of a sadistic Syracuse area dominatrix. The full story has been written previously but I’ll briefly recount what took place. I was 18 at the time and a star high school quarterback, when I succumbed to the fantasy of submitting to a dominatrix. Through the Internet, I met and arranged a session with a dominatrix, whose first name is Mary. She was insistent that I dress as a female, also suggesting that a bondage session with another male submissive would be to her liking. ...

continued from part 8 Part Nine Chapter 16: Wintering Out There was a knock on the doorframe behind her. The cottage was relatively small and quite cosy, but Alex had an eerie ability to disappear in silence bordering to condensed when she was doing some work or wanted to have a few moments on her own. This meant that she effectively reappeared out of nowhere, often startling whoever was in the room. Niamh thought she would never really get used to it. ...

continued from part 15 Chapter 16: Wintering Out There was a knock on the doorframe behind her. The cottage was relatively small and quite cosy, but Alex had an eerie ability to disappear in silence bordering to condensed when she was doing some work or wanted to have a few moments on her own. This meant that she effectively reappeared out of nowhere, often startling whoever was in the room. Niamh thought she would never really get used to it. ...

Twenty four year old twin sister brunettes Lisa and Connie Michaels each stand at 5’ 6” and 125 lbs and are the epitome of cute and curvaceous femininity. They use their identical beautiful faces and sexy figures and alluring charm to scam unsuspecting people, usually men, out of their money. Their doppelganger appearance coupled with extravagant ruses have netted them several hundreds of thousand dollars over the years. Tonight the female swindlers are in disagreement about their next score. ...

(story continues from The Sorority Trashing Part 1: The Way It All Began) Part 2: The Beginning to an End I awoke to a loud thunk. “Holy hell girl what are you doing?!” a girl exclaimed. “I’ve gotta fucking pee Kirsten. Now are you going to help me or not?” “Well, remember what Dedra said? If we’re caught using anything but a diaper today, we’ll need to do a keg stand.” ...

continued on from Part 1: A Very Long Night This story is part of the new Die Gummihaus series of short stories on the RubberMansion.com website. These stories are not to be republished, in printed or any other form without express written permission by it’s author (me). These are stories who deal with human sexuality and special forms of love, and are not to be read by or displayed to those under legal age. If you are not legally an adult in your country of residence, please, stop reading now. The story is fictional and the characters are not based on any real person, but rather in my fantasies and hope for a better future. ...

continued from part 14 Chapter 15: Spinning Yarns She blinked twice to get rid of the stinging dryness in her eyes. The warming light from the fireplace and the gentle but pervasive heat made her drowsy, but it was hard not to look at the smouldering embers. It might have been one of those rare Zen moments, if she only had been able to clear her head. Now, random sounds, images and sensations kept bouncing smoothly in her mind. The weekend down south seemed so far away now, so very unreal, but yet so close that she could actually taste every single thing as if it happened a single breath ago. She smiled, wetting her lips furtively with her tongue, enjoying the salty flavour that still remained after lunch. That, too, had been something to remember. Alex had obviously decided to feed her up on top of all the pampering before she left, and André had given her certain ideas about cooking that would soon begin to show around the waist on both of them. ...

continued from part 7 Part Eight Chapter 15: Spinning Yarns She blinked twice to get rid of the stinging dryness in her eyes. The warming light from the fireplace and the gentle but pervasive heat made her drowsy, but it was hard not to look at the smouldering embers. It might have been one of those rare Zen moments, if she only had been able to clear her head. Now, random sounds, images and sensations kept bouncing smoothly in her mind. The weekend down south seemed so far away now, so very unreal, but yet so close that she could actually taste every single thing as if it happened a single breath ago. She smiled, wetting her lips furtively with her tongue, enjoying the salty flavour that still remained after lunch. That, too, had been something to remember. Alex had obviously decided to feed her up on top of all the pampering before she left, and André had given her certain ideas about cooking that would soon begin to show around the waist on both of them. ...

(story continues from Newspaper Boy) Newspaper Boy – Part 2 You will remember that I had been tied up by the school caretaker, wrapped in plastic bags; gagged with a rubbish bag and had newspaper taped around my head as a blindfold. I had been dumped into the large metal bins outside the school and left – unable to do anything but wait until the rubbish trucks arrived to take away the rubbish. ...

A Whirlwind of a Story! Part 1 As the East Coast was getting slammed by a lot of Storms and Tornado’s, I managed to pick a day that was never going to be forgotten. As my marriage of twenty years slowly and painfully diminished and the fights escalated to all most every week end, there was no more fantasizing about a great sex life or bondage sex or play anymore, the days grew tiresome and seemed like they would never end. Our neighbors began hearing our arguments as they became loud and nasty. My one neighbor that lived to the right of me always flirted and made conversation with me while I was married to my wife, I usually would make a quick exit or try not to pay any attention to her so that she would leave me alone, now I know I aren’t an eight or a nine, but I am in shape and I have blue eyes, lol. I know I am shallow though because the main reason, other then the fact that I was a committed husband, was that I was totally not into heavy or plump women, now my neighbor had operations on her stomach and all to make herself look better, but she was still plump to me, and that is what I saw in her. It was a shame too, because she was like thirty two, when I was in my early forty’s, she had a great personality and a nice smile, and on top of that she had a great job being a Registered Nurse that she made into her own business by going to families that needed a Nurse on call, so she basically worked her own hours, other then that, that’s all she was. ...

Debbie had enough of her tenants drunken ways; she had sub-let the spare room in her flat to help pay the mortgage but his late nights out at the pub every single night had become too much for her. He always staggered in late at night or even early the next morning after an all-night bender; making so much noise and mess, never bothering to sorting it out the next day. ...

Henrietta was a 28 years old female university student, who had a passionate fetish addiction to heavy rubber like body bags and gasmasks. She found this deviation a bit embarrassing but she had no chance to share her desire with somebody. One of her favorite fetish outfits was a diving suit made of heavy rubber. It was a dry suit which she had customized with an attached gas mask. Because of her lonely life as a fetishist she had developed various self-bondage techniques. They could be used in a solo setting and combined with the dry suit and also other rubber items. She had self designed and sewed several items of thick rubberized cloth. Her manufacturing technique and sewing standards were of the industrial quality to ensure that the self-bondage equipment would be strong and durable. ...

continued from part one Mei, part II Sally woke up with a start to a short buzz from her nether regions. She must have fallen asleep on the way home. She was pretty comfortable in her latex cocoon, but it was time to get back to work. Ashleigh had already left the van, she must have gone to get changed, or whatever she went off to do while she left Sally to do all the ‘dirty work’. She got up and checked on the girl in the vacuum bag. The Calm would have worn of by now for sure, but the girl was totally still and breathing slowly. She must have fallen asleep too. Well, that was good, Sally figured to herself. She tried to yawn… but it didn’t really work, and she cursed to herself. ...

continued from part 13 Chapter 14: Amends The cat lay on top of the large fridge, listening cautiously as she made herself as flat and inconspicuous as possible. It was a warm and nice place to rest, and she didn’t want anyone to come after her with a broom and chuck her out in the storm. They had been nice to her here so far, but she had learnt the hard way that people could act very strange sometimes. Now, there was no sign of anyone near where she was. Perhaps she would go for a little sightseeing around the house a bit later. The one without hair had given her better food than she’d had anywhere else around this place, and he didn’t seem to mind having her around. Tonight, he had let her in from the rain. He might still be somewhere in here, and perhaps there would be more to eat. ...

Kris was a popular high school senior, with equally popular and attractive eighteen year old friends just like her. “Just like her” in the sense that they were pretty, and impossibly shallow, and usually attracted guys just long enough for them to get the first fuck. So the saying goes, “why buy the cow when the milk is free?” The guys probably thought the proverbial free milk was kind of sour, and not worth the second helping! Kris only started counting when she turned eighteen, but was over thirty guys so far. She was especially popular because a perpetual ache problem left her on “the pill”, so she was a no condom girl for the guys, with clear skin. Or as they saw it, a pretty place for them to dump their cum. Kris had a problem, she had wrecked her new C300 for the third time by texting while driving, and her parents were getting strict. They wouldn’t let her use one of their other cars this time until hers was repaired, and one of the necessary parts had to come from Germany, after Mercedes made it! They also took away her phone, as necessary to a popular teenager as oxygen! She realized she would be without a car for weeks, and popular girls didn’t ride the school bus. So far she was getting by with bumming rides from her friends, until she found herself stranded at the mall, and the real trouble was about to start. She had seen her friend Beth’s newest boyfriend at the mall and told him she needed a ride home. He was only too happy to show off his new red sports car to Kris, she knew he would be after the look he gave her in her new Victoria Secret Summer dress, and high heeled sandals. Kris suspected she would “have to pay” for this trip one way or the other, but she didn’t mind because she regularly gave it away for free anyway. Just before her house Tim pulled the small car into a dark trail as far as the low car could go, and shut off the engine. There was so much lust inside the small car you could smell it in the air! Tim put his hand on Kris’ thigh and rubbed back and forth and said he liked her new dress. She said she thought he would, and she noticed with every rub the hem of the skimpy white dress crept higher. Kris told him half heartily they should stop, because if Beth found out it would be trouble, implying that would be the only reason TO stop now. Tim said he wouldn’t tell if she didn’t, and that was all she needed to hear. Her new panties were damp, and in the way of her fun, so she stripped them off without lifting the skimpy dress and hung them on his rear view mirror. At the same time he was struggling to strip off his pants and shorts while still in the drivers seat, all possible thanks to a tilt steering wheel, and reclining bucket seat. ...

Kris was a popular high school senior, with equally popular and attractive eighteen year old friends just like her. “Just like her” in the sense that they were pretty, and impossibly shallow, and usually attracted guys just long enough for them to get the first fuck. So the saying goes, “why buy the cow when the milk is free?” The guys probably thought the proverbial free milk was kind of sour, and not worth the second helping! Kris only started counting when she turned eighteen, but was over thirty guys so far. She was especially popular because a perpetual ache problem left her on “the pill”, so she was a no condom girl for the guys, with clear skin. Or as they saw it, a pretty place for them to dump their cum. Kris had a problem, she had wrecked her new C300 for the third time by texting while driving, and her parents were getting strict. They wouldn’t let her use one of their other cars this time until hers was repaired, and one of the necessary parts had to come from Germany, after Mercedes made it! They also took away her phone, as necessary to a popular teenager as oxygen! She realized she would be without a car for weeks, and popular girls didn’t ride the school bus. So far she was getting by with bumming rides from her friends, until she found herself stranded at the mall, and the real trouble was about to start. ...

Kris was a popular high school senior, with equally popular and attractive eighteen year old friends just like her. “Just like her” in the sense that they were pretty, and impossibly shallow, and usually attracted guys just long enough for them to get the first fuck. So the saying goes, “why buy the cow when the milk is free?” The guys probably thought the proverbial free milk was kind of sour, and not worth the second helping! Kris only started counting when she turned eighteen, but was over thirty guys so far. She was especially popular because a perpetual ache problem left her on “the pill”, so she was a no condom girl for the guys, with clear skin. Or as they saw it, a pretty place for them to dump their cum. Kris had a problem, she had wrecked her new C300 for the third time by texting while driving, and her parents were getting strict. They wouldn’t let her use one of their other cars this time until hers was repaired, and one of the necessary parts had to come from Germany, after Mercedes made it! They also took away her phone, as necessary to a popular teenager as oxygen! She realized she would be without a car for weeks, and popular girls didn’t ride the school bus. So far she was getting by with bumming rides from her friends, until she found herself stranded at the mall, and the real trouble was about to start. She had seen her friend Beth’s newest boyfriend at the mall and told him she needed a ride home. He was only too happy to show off his new red sports car to Kris, she knew he would be after the look he gave her in her new Victoria Secret Summer dress, and high heeled sandals. Kris suspected she would “have to pay” for this trip one way or the other, but she didn’t mind because she regularly gave it away for free anyway. Just before her house Tim pulled the small car into a dark trail as far as the low car could go, and shut off the engine. There was so much lust inside the small car you could smell it in the air! Tim put his hand on Kris’ thigh and rubbed back and forth and said he liked her new dress. She said she thought he would, and she noticed with every rub the hem of the skimpy white dress crept higher. Kris told him half heartily they should stop, because if Beth found out it would be trouble, implying that would be the only reason TO stop now. Tim said he wouldn’t tell if she didn’t, and that was all she needed to hear. Her new panties were damp, and in the way of her fun, so she stripped them off without lifting the skimpy dress and hung them on his rear view mirror. At the same time he was struggling to strip off his pants and shorts while still in the drivers seat, all possible thanks to a tilt steering wheel, and reclining bucket seat. ...

(story continues from My Weekend as a Rubberdoll Part 3: Party Decoration)_ Part 4: Changing Places Saturday She’d removed all the fetish gear from the latex doll that was in the display cabinet. Now she was going to put her plan in action, she’d been thinking of doing this all night, especially when she first spotted the doll inside the cabinet, a fetishist dream come true. The corset, collar and boots covering the latex catsuit would be many peoples dreams and fantasies. ...

continued from part 13 Chapter 14: Pain & Pleasure Awaking in heavy meditation ‘S’ had no Idea of the time; she had slept soundly after the exhaustion brought on by the stringent bondage she had endured. Now fully conscious she tried to open her eyes and stretch her limbs but nothing happened she was held fast in her bondage. It then struck her that of course she was in meditation and at some time in the future she would be released and be dressed to meet her Master. Her heart missed a beat; she smiled to herself although the smile was only metaphorical as she was held very tightly in her latex helmet over which was a heavy leather sleep sack helmet which allowed not one millimetre of movement. ...

continued from part 14 Chapter 15: The Penultimate Sessions Now fully dressed again in her slave suit she felt much better; she really was at one with her rubberised condition and felt both physically and psychologically uncomfortable without her total covering. The punishment helmet with feeding tubes issuing from the outlet was fitted over her slave helmet. The blindfold and breathe through gag were fully buckled effectively sealing her within her encapsulated state. She was led to the Punishment room where her next punishment ordeal awaited her. ...

During free time like I have available to me today, I celebrate the invention of the trash bag. Just how great is it that we have this product: a bag made of soft, slick plastic which we not only pack our trash into, but can wear and sleep in. I love trash bags on their own, for the shiny, slick look of them and the lovely way they fit against my body. The plastic caresses me gently at first, and then, after five or so minutes, it fits me like a second skin as my naked body heat causes it to cling to me. It’s wonderful to have a bag-like sheath of polyethylene to slip into, allowing that plastic to take us to never-boring sexual flights of fancy. ...

It’s not that Chloe didn’t trust men, she didn’t trust anybody, well, not enough for this. What if, right in the middle of it, he had a heart attack? Like in that Stephen King book. She had let Mark tie her up, but she’d insisted on the fuzzy handcuffs and having the key. And it was okay, sort of. She couldn’t really get into it. What if she came so hard that she dropped the key? What if she dropped the key AND Mark had a heart attack!? No. Better to have total control. ...

continued from part one Part 2: Caught! “Jesus Christ!” “What?” “Bag weighs a fucking ton!” Hands groped Chloe. “This ain’t uniforms, Charlie.” More groping. “Sure as hell not. Feels like a body.” “You don’t think …” “Only one way to find out.” Chloe felt herself hefted out of the bin. She landed with a thump on the concrete floor. Light poured into the bag and she clamped her eyes shut. “Son of a bitch.” ...

As they slowly rounded another corner Ashleigh didn’t see anyone she was interested in. It wasn’t looking particularly good at this stage, but she didn’t want to ‘settle’, she’d rather spend a bit longer looking. She knew Sally was getting a bit fidgety in the back of the van. Sally was her genius. Without her Ashleigh was sure she wouldn’t have anywhere near as much fun as they did together. Halfway through a Chemistry Major that she didn’t need, Sally worked wonders with molecules. She’d single-handedly created several compounds that she and Ashleigh regularly used to have a bit of fun. ...

continued from part 11 Chapter 12: Return to Training The two slaves deeply encapsulated under multiple layers of latex still in their sleep sacks, were loaded onto hospital trolleys and wheeled to the van. There they were tightly strapped onto fitted stretchers allowing no movement what so ever. They were aware of movement once the van began the return drive to the Training establishment. For both of them it was a journey of return to where they had started from. Both were anxious to know what awaited them; both were aware that what had passed between them was forbidden. Both knew that discovery would be catastrophic. ...

story continued from part one Part II Rich was curious why Missy wanted to meet him back at the gym. They hadn’t seen each other in several weeks. He did miss playing with those basketball sized tits. With boobs that big, she used let him titty fuck her until he exploded all over her face. Sometimes even some of the other cheerleaders would participate in the fun. And he really missed those kinky bondage games, though his recent tryst with Stacy made up for lost time. ...

This story starts two months before my 40th birthday. My girlfriend and I were talking about what our deepest secrets are and I was hesitant to tell her that I had a fetish for garbage and for trash bags. I wanted to experience this fetish and went online to find like people in this fetish of mine. This is where I found this great site of stories; I also found a site that dealt with dating people with fetishes. I got caught by my girlfriend in doing this and she was asking me why I had to look elsewhere for my tastes. This is where the truth about my tastes came to light. ...

Part 1 It has always been a dream / fetish of mine to be wraped up in black rubbish sacks and used by a beautiful lady then put away untill she wanted to use me again. When i meet my wife (Kate) i was unsure as to tell her my secret of making large bags, getting in and enjoying myself, to this day i still have not told her i choose to play on my own when she is out. Anyway on with the story ...

continued from part 6 Part Seven Chapter 13: Bundle of Joy Heavy raindrops played an autumn concerto on the barn roof. An unremittingly drumming background noise rolled through the loft where Niamh was watching Alex prepare the next number. She had helped her roll out the large, heavy rubber sack on the floor while Alex took care of the wires attached to overhead pulleys mounted on a beam. She shook her head in disbelief. The sack was a blood-curling body bag-like deflated cocoon with broad belts, buckles and whatnot, and they wanted to string her up in it. No one could blame her for not seeing the point in being the banger in that bun, she thought. Surely, Alex must have had something more in mind than just suspending her like a sausage when she thought this out. ...

continued from part 12 Chapter 13: Bundle of Joy Heavy raindrops played an autumn concerto on the barn roof. An unremittingly drumming background noise rolled through the loft where Niamh was watching Alex prepare the next number. She had helped her roll out the large, heavy rubber sack on the floor while Alex took care of the wires attached to overhead pulleys mounted on a beam. She shook her head in disbelief. The sack was a blood-curling body bag-like deflated cocoon with broad belts, buckles and whatnot, and they wanted to string her up in it. No one could blame her for not seeing the point in being the banger in that bun, she thought. Surely, Alex must have had something more in mind than just suspending her like a sausage when she thought this out. ...

This story is covered by the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/ ) I don’t know how I get roped into these things. Spring cleaning, she called it. But there wasn’t that much cleaning involved. Instead, I was tasked with packing up her winter clothing, vacuum packing them into plastic bags, putting those plastic bags into plastic bins, and then transporting those plastic bins into her side room. Meanwhile, she had the opposite job. She was retrieving a different set of bins from that same side room, unpacking clothes from plastic bags, and placing those clothes into her wardrobe and closets. ...

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a warning only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. A true and dangerous session that nearly ended my life. Everyone has those events that change their lives forever. Something that makes you look at everything differently. You can measure your life by the events before and after it. For this one, fifteen years ago to the day on new years eve. ...

It all began when I was browsing some catalogs and came across a giant red and white Christmas stocking. Checking out the dimensions it was clear that it was more than big enough for me to fit inside. I grabbed my computer and credit card and ordered one for expedited shipping. Thus my plan for me to be my boyfriend Steve’s personal stocking stuffer was hatched. A couple of days later the stocking arrived and I quickly took it to my room, shutting and locking the door. Outside, the stocking was exquisitely soft but the inside was a rougher material. There were two thin straps for hanging it on a wall and although they were probably more than adequate to hang the stocking and an assortment of various gifts, they clearly would not withstand suspending a 5 foot 5 inch, 126 pound woman. Stripping down to my bra and panties I decided to try it on for size. Stepping into its ‘foot’, I pulled the sides up around me as far as it would go. Unfortunately, that left its top just below my breasts. I figured that I would be more fully ‘stuffed’ into the stocking if I tried kneeling instead of standing on my feet, so I dropped the sides and then got on my knees, bringing my feet up to my butt. It was hard to stay balanced, however, so I moved the whole apparatus over by a wall and this time leaned forward with my forehead against the wall. This time I was able to pull the stocking all the way up to my neck. “Perfect,” I thought. A frog-tie would definitely be part of my bondage stocking stuffer outfit. ...

You wake up, and blink at us sleepily. You’re cute, all snuggled up in bed and with the covers pulled up tight around you. I’m still on the fence about all this, but Jen is here with me, and she’s sure to make sure I follow through with this. You start, realizing that something’s not right, and I guess you feel a little vulnerable having your girlfriend and her best friend stare down at you as you sleep. As you start to sit up, Jen drops a heavy canvas bag on the bed. You eye it suspiciously as you try to shake off sleep. ...

I lookup at the clock. Nearly time to close. The last few customer’s mill about the store, picking up various odds and ends. I’m pretty certain that none of them are going to buy anything. I look over to Sarah, the shift manager, and ask “Sarah, do you mind if I go now?” Sarah peers about the store, and shakes her head, “No Linda, It’s fine. Been a slow night. I’ll see to the deposit and closing things out. Do run the trash to the chute on your way out though”. I nod to Sarah, smiling. All in all, this gig at the mall isn’t so bad. Especially since Sarah fired Jessica. She’d been skimming from the tills, and I called her on it. Sarah got her ass fired, and now things are a bit more tolerable here. ...

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. It was the night of the big performance; after weeks of training and preparation Diane was finally ready for the big one. Tonight was going to be such a thrill not only for the audience but secretly for her too. The idea of the big plastic bag trick was her masters, alias ‘The Great Magic Ian’. At first she was a little apprehensive about the trick and the thought of being inside a tight plastic bag with little air frightened her at first. Obviously Ian had reassured her that she would be ok but still it took great courage to get into the bag for the first time. However once she had got over the initial fears it turned out to be a rather enjoyable experience. Up to now their play had been confined to the privacy of their own bedroom, but Ian had got an opportunity to perform in Amsterdam at the famous ‘Cirque de orgasmic’; a sort of cross between a circus and a sex show. The idea of performing her trick in front of people made Diane even more excited. ...

T’was the night before Christmas and I was laying peacefully in my bed. I had been out on the town with friends just an hour ago but decided to have an early night. I didn’t feel like starting Christmas day with a hangover. I stared up into the darkness. The occasional passing car’s headlights filtered through the blinds to send stripes of light racing across the ceiling of my spacious studio apartment. Gradually I drifted off to sleep… ...

Part One This is the first story I ever wrote, I could blame many people For this! But I’ll just have to blame my wife! Oh you’re going to get it! The taxi was almost at her destination. Diana Baxter pulled the letter out of her bag to read it as she had done many times before. She read the address, she read the date, she read the name at the bottom of the page, and then she read the letter slowly again. ...

After lunching at Ivar’s on Seattle’s Pier 53, Ron and Nancy took a leisurely stroll down the waterfront and inland past Pioneer Square to the King St. railroad station. The walk was leisurely partly because Amtrak’s eastbound Empire Builder train did not leave until 4:45 P.M., and partly because Nancy could not move any faster the way she was dressed. Under the long black rubber mackintosh she wore to fend off the light rain which constituted a pleasant day in Seattle, Nancy wore a 3/4-length, long-sleeved and high-necked blue rubber dress with a pearl choker. Inside the four-inch heels with ankle straps snugly fastened with the tiniest of padlocks, she wore black latex stockings that were joined to each other at their tops by two pencil-thick rubber cords, each cord being glued at either end about six inches down the insides of each stocking. ...

“Thank you for coming this morning, Miss Montgomery,” the man in the lab coat said. “This is Nurse Reineke, my assistant. She will be your constant companion over the next seven days.” “As you already know from your interview, our clinic is conducting a medical experiment on behalf of a European clothing manufacturer. To be more specific than I could be before, the purpose of the experiment is to allow us to develop safer latex clothing for the concerned fetishist. Because it will involve you wearing an internal body temperature monitor probe and some peculiar rubber clothing while occasionally restrained in simulated bondage, just to test the clothing under rigorous field conditions, we must avoid even the appearance of impropriety. We mustn’t have anybody accuse us of paying you for sex,” he chuckled. “Therefore, we must have you sign these releases before we can begin. Please sign there, there, there and there. Thank you.” “Now, in return for your participation in the experiment, we have prepared this cashier’s check for $2,000.00 made out to you, to be held by the third party of your choice. If you will please address this stamped envelope with that party’s name and address and enclose a note instructing him or her to hold the money for you and to pick you up here a week from today at Monday Noon, I will be glad to mail it for you.” “Do you understand that you will not be able to receive telephone calls at this number for the course of the week? Ah, you did not tell anybody you were coming here. That is good. Telephones can be very distracting.” “All set with the envelope? Good. I will go take care of this letter while you shower in that room over there. Be sure to wash your hair, and while you are in there you might wish to make use of the toilet. You may hang your street clothes in this locker. You will not need a padlock. This is a very private clinic.” “I’m back. All finished? Good. It is very important that you be very dry for the first stage of the experiment. Use extra towels if you need them, and use the hair dryer as long as you wish. Dust yourself with talcum powder when you are done. Don’t be afraid to use all you want. We have plenty.” “That will do. Now Nurse Reineke must take your temperatures, both orally and rectally. This is very important, as the purpose of the experiment is to measure the effects of confinement in rubber on the body’s temperature. Many people find it unpleasantly warm after strenuous activities, but we believe we have found a solution for that. We will show you the prototype suit later in the week, but for now we just need some baseline temperatures.” “Today you are just going to put on a normal rubber catsuit, without any coverings on the hands or feet or head. It is rather tight, but the talcum powder will help you to get into it. When you are in, Nurse Reineke and I will help you with the zipper up the back. Some people find the back zippers impossible to manipulate by themselves, but others find the smooth front it allows to be more attractive.” “Hold your breath while we zip it up. There. This zipper has three slides to it, so that the lower end may be opened through the crotch area without unzipping the suit itself. This will allow you to go to the toilet when you need to, and will allow us to insert the temperature monitors when and where needed. By moving the second and third slides together, we can create a ‘portable hole’ of sorts that does not compromise the integrity of the rubber encasement.” “Go ahead and walk around a bit while I prepare the temperature monitor. Wave your arms above your head to make sure the suit is comfortably in place. Is the bodice correctly sized? It isn’t too tight, I hope. Yes, the molded breast cups are quite becoming, don’t you think Nurse Reineke?” “Now she must unzip the crotch of your suit to set the first temperature monitor in place. As you can see it is no larger than a normal rectal thermometer, and is made of soft plastic for comfort and safety sake. This small wire will lead to a recording device you will wear on a belt around your waist. It will record your body temperature at one-minute intervals. If you would be so kind as to bend over, we will lubricate it and begin.” “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now we can just sit and chat while we establish some new baseline temperatures. After the first hour, if you get too warm you may dial the thermostat down to whatever level of air conditioning you are comfortable with. After lunch, we will have you do some exercise on either the treadmill or the stationary bicycle to see how that affects you. After you have finished each exercise period, you may adjust the thermostat again to whatever you are comfortable with.” “I’m sorry if I did not mention to you before lunch that all of your meals for the next week were going to be liquid diet supplements. However, this is necessary, as towards the end of the week it may be difficult for you to expel solids. I assure you that the reason for this will not be harmful in any way, but it will just take too long to unhook you from the monitoring devices. You may have all of the water you desire, and, if you wish, one glass of wine with your evening meal.” “Excellent. That is the last of the treadmill runs. Your body temperature peaked as expected, but has remained within safe levels. You may remove your suit now, and shower before dinner. Nurse Reineke will help you with the zipper and the body temperature monitor. After dinner you will put on a new suit with attached hands and feet, and we will repeat the body temperature tests.” “Do you like the retsina, Miss Montgomery, or may I call you Victoria? It is a private label from a small vineyard in Thessalonika. Yes, it makes my head swim too, and I have been drinking it for years. If you wish, you may take a short nap while Nurse Reineke gives you a massage. You will sleep, and wake up feeling refreshed and ready for more rubber.” “As you can see this suit covers everything but your head. Again it was a little tight putting on, but we find this design most efficient at allowing the body heat to radiate outward through the suit. The less air there is between you and the suit, the cooler you will be. After the first hour on the treadmill, you may again adjust the air conditioning as you desire.” “This probe is somewhat larger, but only because it contains a memory unit which will store the minute-by-minute temperature readings throughout the night. This will save you the bother of wearing the waist belt, and make it more comfortable for you to sleep. Why yes, of course you must wear the suit overnight. It is an important part of the experiment. Except for the occasional change of suits, you will be covered in rubber for the entire seven days of the test. Don’t worry, you will easily get used to it.” “Excellent. The stationary bicycle test went exactly as expected, though I see you are quite warm. Do you need any more water? Don’t worry, you will be allowed to pass water before being put to bed. We will even remove the probe for ten minutes to allow you to defecate. For now, just relax while your body temperature returns to normal.” “Very good. Now we will prepare you for sleep. Just as we needed to test your temperature before during strenuous activity, now we need to test it under conditions of near immobility, in order to get a crucial set of baseline readings. Please lay down near the middle of the cot. Don’t worry, these padded cuffs will not harm the suit. If you will please extend your arms straight out to the sides of the bed, I will attach them to these straps. Now your ankles, please. Thank you. One final question, do you prefer to sleep with or without a light on? Fine. Pleasant dreams.” ...

Katharine Van de Vere woke with a stinker of a headache, it was the morning after the night before. At forty seven Kat was still a size ten, but at the moment she was more interested in where the floor was! Her short neat dark hair was bedraggled, looking like it had been through a fence backwards. In fact she was certain she had been through a fence backwards! As Kat tried to get herself upright she opened her eyes to survey where she was. She recognized a few things and realized she was in her flat in town. She had barely made it to her sofa and collapsed, her cheek resting on the arm, her bottom never made it. As she sat properly on the sofa the memories of the night before filled her head. Kat tried to stand but balance is something that is taught to us at an early age, and very often forgotten after overdoing it with alcohol. Or to be exact Vodka! ...

continued from part 3 Part 4 I was stuck. I had planned, ever so elaborately, for the ‘perfect’ straightjacket self-bondage: I wouldn’t be able to get out of it at all, however hard I tried, so I would be -and feel- completely helpless for 24 hours, After which my partner would come in to set me free. And I knew I could face the long bondage session, because self bondage left me tied less stringently than at the efficient hads of my partner, so I would have enough freedom to change positions and adjust over time, avoiding the pains of strict immobility. ...

It was just another Thursday night, another drive all around town… checking out the dumpsters. I turned the radio up… yawn. Another rerun of “This American Life”, one of my favorite radio shows. Ira, I’ve heard it all before. I switched on the ipod and played some ambient techno stuff, it always relaxes me when I do this. Soft music played as I whizzed around town behind restaurants, inside apartment complexes, searching for a perfect trash bin in which to indulge myself. See, I’ve got this trash fetish. Wait, before you judge me. It’s strange I know, but totally harmless. Since I was a kid, I’ve just always loved being around the stuff. It turns me on for reasons I can’t explain. So, rather than denying it, I’ve chosen to embrace it and just enjoy my weekly jerkoff inside a smelly dumpster. Let me tell you, if you could understand how happy it makes me, you might try it yourself. ...

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. This story follows on from “That’s Magic” Part 2: Bag Play Now that master was satisfied that his little slave girl was happy with the bag he knew it was time to take it to another level. As she lay there naked on the bed gently playing with herself he prepared the things for the mega play. Firstly he dressed her up in the full tights suit including the soft silky face mask stocking. He stroked up and down her body as he smoothed the soft Lycra into place. He dwelled slightly around her nipples and pussy. ...

Lynn had worked for the same company for nearly 7 years. Living is the Atlanta area, she was a beautiful Southern gal, her husband treasured her, and her co-workers were best friends as well. She was striking, nearly 6 feet tall, stick thin with beautiful breasts, shapely hips and a tiny waist to die for. Her smile lit the room up, and her long flowing blonde hair simply said” Southern Lass”. ...

Lynn had worked for the same company for nearly 7 years. Living is the Atlanta area, she was a beautiful Southern gal, her husband treasured her, and her co-workers were best friends as well. She was striking, nearly 6 feet tall, stick thin with beautiful breasts, shapely hips and a tiny waist to die for. Her smile lit the room up, and her long flowing blonde hair simply said” Southern Lass”. ...

continued from part 6Chapter 7: Slaves and Maids, Above and Below The Housekeeper took me to the maids’ quarters and cuffed me to the wall. The Housekeeper’s words were swimming around in my head. It felt like everything I knew and believed in was coming apart. The change of language caused its own mental dislocation as well. I strained to comprehend how badly I had behaved. I could barely believe how stupid I’d been. I felt a terrible and overpowering guilt. There was still a part of me that argued that it was unfair: that I hadn’t been wrong but the rules and requirements forced onto me were absurd. Yet I knew that everyone else coped with those rules, why should I be special? ...

I was feeling in a raunchy mood tonight, I think my hormones were raging and my pussy was very wet from thinking sexy thoughts most of the day at work. I needed to be used and abused, and my husband would be getting very lucky tonight. Bill arrived home shortly after 6pm and I was waiting for him dressed in my sexy slut look, freshly showered and shaved, dressed in sexy black lingerie, skimpy undies and sheer stockings held up by the garter belt. My perky breasts held high by the bra, pushed up and presented forward for the perfect display of the two round globes of female flesh, my nipples standing firm and proud, catching his eye as he walked into the house. ...

My name is Rachael and I work at a senior college. My days are spent dealing with a variety of trivial student problems, ranging from lost papers, to girl/boy friend dumped scenarios. I assist and smooth and counsel and help at every twist and turn of a student life. Dealing with nearly six hundred, nineteen year old student angst’s takes it out of you. I have over the years explored my own desires in many ways, I find that being sexually sated and feeling fulfilled makes my job that much easier to do, but unfortunately; recently, a very strange desire has exploded in my mind and there is quite a lot of risk and possible humiliation in fulfilling it. ...

Sam suggested we had a package holiday this year instead of the usual cottage we rent. Okay I went along with it much to my regret. I never realised what she had in mind. I let her make all the arrangements. She would not tell me anything. I couldn’t understand it as she liked the cottage we hire, but I decided to my cost to allow her to do everything and not tell me a thing about the holiday. ...

Walking through the streets in town looking for a particular place was getting Amy down, Dispirited she turned another corner of another street, glancing at her watch. She didn’t have long to find the club, if it even existed. As she walk to the end of the street there was yet another corner, Amy saw a small sign over a door next to a shut up shop. The sign just said, ...

continued from part 2Chapter 3: Basic Maid Training, Advanced Failure I couldn’t believe that Nurse Five seriously intended for me to begin my training as one of the hotel staff dressed in this maid’s uniform. I thought that the only possible explanation was that the maid sent with my clothes by Mistress Three had picked up the wrong things, and that Nurse Five would never question something she thought was from Mistress Three. Perhaps it was a joke? ...

I didn’t know what my girlfriend, Susan, was up to. We were both into bondage and she used to spend hours on her sewing machine making me hobble skirts that she could lock me into. But she would not tell me what she was working on this time. All I knew was that she had measured all my body. It left me in suspense. When I asked her, she told me that I was not to be impatient. It would be the best bondage outfit yet. ...

I didn’t know what my girlfriend, Susan, was up to. We were both into bondage and she used to spend hours on her sewing machine making me hobble skirts that she could lock me into. But she would not tell me what she was working on this time. All I knew was that she had measured all my body. It left me in suspense. When I asked her, she told me that I was not to be impatient. It would be the best bondage outfit yet. ...

Introduction Jessica Salt, a cousin to Veruca Salt, whom she used to tease about what befell her at the chocolate factory. She is an intelligent girl, who worked her way up in her fathers Garbage Sorting Plant, she finally made it to become supervisor of the day shift. Jessica and the Garbage Plant It was a normal day for Jessica, she arrived on time as she had done for the last few years, today was a special day for her and her father, they where installing a new system to sort the trash. Jessica had heard it was made by Wonka Inc and was going to speed up the trash process at the plant, most of the workers were displeased that a machine might be replacing them. ...

If you’re the author of this story please let me know. This is a fantasy of mine that I’ve enjoyed thinking about lately. “I’ve had another long night at the theater again tonight, can you come to see me? We’ll be alone and we can play around if your up for it.” I have been working for the multi-plex movie theater at the edge of town since I graduated high school and worked my way to manager after a few years. It has it’s benefits but has some long hours. ...

She grabs his balls and squeezes them as Her slave almost drops to his knees in pain. “Do you wanna cum slave?” She asks. The Mistress is about six feet tall and dressed head to toe in sleak, black rubber. he nods his head up and down. The five foot slave is naked and gagged with his hands bound behind his back with black duct tape. A thin, leather cord is wrapped and tied tightly around his hard cock and shaved balls. ...

Satine was the most desired, most well compensated professional dominatrix in all of New York City. This was for a very good reason, as she was close to six feet tall, with long, straight fire red hair, massive, firm and natural tits, and a serious sadistic streak that she loved using on wealthy perverts. Bob Eastwick was a wealthy pervert, except his tastes ran towards dominating women, not being dominated by them. He had noticed Satine over a year before, and had worked constantly over that time to find out everything about her. He knew that she genuinely hated men, that she worked in an upscale brothel located in a Soho, that she was fabulously wealthy with her lifestyle, and most importantly that she lived out on Long Island, in a large, ocean front house, with an assortment of women coming and going in her life. That discovery of her house, and also of her real name, (The not nearly as exotic Jennifer Monroe) allowed Eastwick to plot his obsession. To kidnap and take Satine and keep her as a bondage sex slave for as long as she remained beautiful. In order to do this, he stalked Satine, spending countless hours on the beach near her house, hidden behind dunes with binoculars trained, and listening devices straining to hear her every word. He learned everything about her, her comings and goings, her friends and social life. He also learned everything possible about her security system including through constant telescoping viewing of Satine every time she entered the house, what he thought was the security code for the houses alarm system. This was the key to his entire plan, because with this code, he could enter the house when she was not there, and take his time binding her properly, before he took her to her final permanent home. He picked a Saturday night, because she never worked Sundays or Mondays, and she would not be missed for a couple days at least. The more time that passed between her abduction, and any inquiries towards her whereabouts meant the likelihood of any witnesses being able to remember any odd happenings at the house. He had bought a cheap moped from a chop shop, and had stashed it, and a large bag of fetish bondage gear in an abandoned rain culvert fairly close to a train station out on the island. He took the second to last train out there, walked to the moped and bag of gear, and then drove the twelve miles out to near her house. He stopped nearly a mile away, shoved the moped under a short pier, then into the ocean itself, just enough so that when the moped was dropped on its side, it would be covered by water. The tide was coming in, so the bike would remain covered for a long time, and there would be no way to connect it to the disappearance of a high priced prostitute a mile away. ...

I entered the parking lot of the office building, walking straight to the rear of it. My car was parked about a mile away in a residential street so as not to attract suspicion. I had chosen this place as it was an upscale office complex. In one of the rear corners of the first level, stood the reception area. With the ground level sunken, there was one dock for truck and just beside it, the garbage container. ...

From a series of “quickies” I’m writing - short stories meant to make you think, rather than spell everything out ;) As always, if you enjoy this story, please let me know at [email protected] or @lckdnrbbr on twitter, and especially let me know what you’d like to see in future stories. Also, don’t forget to show your support to grometsplaza, even if it’s just to let him know how much you appreciate this place he’s made for us :) ...

She rang the bell and stood outside on the steps of the stoop, shivering a little in the cold fall air. Her double-ponytailed, jet black hair blew in the breeze, as did her light skirt, exposing the high platform, strappy goth boots she wore. She was actually nervous, it occurred to her. She wasn’t afraid of anything - her multiple piercings and tattoos, among other things, were a testament to that. Yet, here she was shivering, and she wasn’t sure it was all the cold. ...

It was Thanksgiving week and I was off work for the whole week and wife had to work through Wednesday. I was not sure what I would do the whole week while she was at work but decided to plan a trip to the hunting ranch on Tuesday and return late Wednesday. After speaking with Megan about this she agreed as long as I was home before Thursday. She stated she needed help getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner and would prefer me to stay home but since it was the only time I had to go, I could if I wanted. I agreed and began to make plans. ...

My Husband is the most difficult man in the world to buy a Christmas present for. He never likes what I buy for him and always ends up returning it. The only thing he ever wants is me in a garter belt with stockings, tightly hog tied and ball gagged. Having me under his total control and completely available while using me as his sex toy. This is his only wish for the holiday which I have done for him in the past (see Santa Toy Bag and The Twelve Straps for Christmas). I must admit I have come to enjoy this too. ...

04:03 am, there is a garbage bag beside me, inside of it, there is a layer of scrunched up paper. This time, I managed to get a whole pile of no print news paper from a local printing company they produce at the beginning of a new run saying it was for a kids project. That will prevent me from getting all black and dirty as I saw me when I got home after my first experience in a dumpster. ...

You call my cell phone earlier in the day and get my voice mail. You know that later tonight you will be detaining me under your terms. You leave me a message that goes something like this; “Babe, when you get home, I have plans for you tonight and I will be wearing some sexy zebra outfit and sexy high heels. Don’t be distracted when you come in because I will have a crop in my hand and I won’t hesitate to use it. So you better behave. Do what I tell you! I may tie your hands up at first. I may just tie you to the bed for a few minutes. I may gag you or tie a rope around your neck and force you to suck on my feet or pussy or something like that, but remember, I am in control when you step through the door”. ...

It was that time of the week again when the bin bags are put out for collection. My husband was sat playing on the computer when I looked at him suggestively and moaned, “It’s your turn to take out the bins tonight” He looked reluctant and acted very vacant to the fact that I had even asked him to accomplish this simple chore. This made me slightly mad, yet a devilish thought entered my mind, I thought if he wants to act like a rubbish husband – he might as well be one, so I went in to the kitchen and searched frantically for the extra large 240ltr black wheelie bin liners. When I came across the silky roll, I rubbed the roll in my hand and a wicked smile swept across my face, ‘I thought, huh, I’ll show him!’ ...

It’s October. The air is crisp and cool, perfect for a dumpster explorer like me. It’s about 11pm on a Sunday night, and my trashy journey begins. I lock my front door behind me and step out into the night air in my old doc martens, some grubby old cargo pants and a retro-styled t-shirt with Oscar the Grouch on the front. It’s trash night, and the streets in my neighborhood are lined with garbage cans, overflowing with black and white garbage bags, some spilling their contents onto the street… cups and papers blowing in the night breeze. I sniff the air to see if I can catch a whiff of all that lovely garbage… not close enough, so I walk down the street for a closer look. One particularly lovely looking pile of white bags catches my eye. I walk to it and begin feeling the bags. They are heavy with kitchen waste, my all time favorite. Looking closely, I can see the stuff inside, looks like old salad and macaroni, mixed with used napkins and paper plates, a can or two, plastic bags… you know, your run on the mill garbage. I like these bags, so I heave a few out of their cans and place them closer to the curb for “pickup”. ...

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. If you are under 18, please stop reading now and go read something more appropriate for your age. I take no responsibility to your reactions in this - consider yourself warned. As a garbage woman, my friends would ask me to take items I normally wasn’t allowed - furniture, appliances, and other things that the city would charge a small fee to pick up with a special truck. I didn’t really mind it, and no one really cared but the bean counters - garbage is garbage, and it all went to the same place. I had a friend who was getting frustrated with her 19 year old daughter on a daily basis, to the point where she just wanted her out of her life. The girl wouldn’t move out, and wouldn’t find a job. My friend wanted to teach her kid a lesson she wouldn’t forget. The day before my weekly pickup, I arrived at my friend’s house in full sanitation gear - baggy blue jumpsuit, orange and green high-vis vest, work boots, baseball cap, and several heavy duty 55 gallon black garbage bags hanging out of the back pocket. I looked quite intimidating, especially since it was uncommon in our area to have a female sanitation worker. She invited me in and we had coffee in the kitchen, waiting for her kid to get home. We went over the plan one more time, hashing out the details, as well as me warning her about the dangers of what we were going to do. As we finished, the kid arrived. At only around 5'8" and thin as a rail, she’d not pose too much of a problem for me in the morning. “Ally, I’d like you to meet my friend, Tabitha. She works for the city as a sanitation worker.” My friend said. Her kid just gave me a dirty look and turned around to go to her room. “Wait a minute there, young lady.” Ally turned around and walked over to us. “Since your being so difficult with me lately, refusing to leave, and refusing to find a job, we need to figure out what to do with you. Can’t have you costing me money each month, considering your not a child anymore.” In a classic teenage behavior, she rolled her eyes and tried to walk away. Her mother grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. I stood up, and stared down at the girl. At 6 foot tall, I towered over her. “I’ll be doing the truck alone tomorrow, so leave her next to the bins and put a bag or two on top of her to keep people from seeing.” I took the bags out of my back pocket and tossed them on the table. “Use these, triple bag. Its general garbage day, so there won’t be an issue taking a few extra bags.” Ally just stood there looking mortified. “Mom, what is she talking about?” “Oh don’t worry sweetie. Tabitha, thanks for your help. I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” “Of course. Have a good evening.” I smiled and walked out the front door, not waiting around to hear the resulting argument. I could just imagine the discussion that was about to take place. The next morning, I got ready like I do every day. As usual, I had the truck to myself again. City cutbacks had forced the city to lay off some of the workers - I had only survived because I was a minority. An hour into my route, I had finished the bulk of my pickup already, and had some spare time when I pulled up to my friend’s house. As we discussed, there were two cans of garbage, plus a pile of 4 or so green garbage bags. I could see a black bag peeking out from under the pile. I began tossing the green bags into the back of my rear loading garbage truck. As I grabbed the third and fourth bag, I saw my special sack of garbage laying on her side, head poking through the top of the bag, with it tied around her neck. She was gagged and looked scared out of her mind. I smiled at her then tossed the two green bags into the truck. Coming back for Ally, I grabbed the draw strings and dragged her across the ground and over to the truck. She shook her head wildly as I bent down and looked her in the eyes. “You fit well in that bag, little garbage girl. Your mom wanted to get rid of the worthless garbage around the house. Looks like she thought you fit the description pretty well.” She mumbled a bit, then tried to shake herself out of her bindings. I just reached down and grabbed the bag from the bottom. She wasn’t all that light, but she also wasn’t the heaviest piece of trash I had to lift into the hopper. With a push, I sent her over the lip of the hopper and headfirst into the bed of the truck. I dumped the other bins of garbage on top of her, then sat on the lip of the hopper. “So, how about I make you a deal.” I smiled down at her. “If your mother comes out in the next…” I checked my watch. “5 minutes to rescue you, I’ll be more then happy to free you and let you go on with life. In the meantime, let me set the packer.” I reached around the side of the truck and gave a quick jerk to the lever. The blade swept up and over the top of the hopper and waited for the next pull. I could hear the girl scream through her gag. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first odd thing I’ve hauled to the incinerator. I get all sorts of things, like clothing, toys, grills… You name it, I’ve crushed it in this truck. If your lucky, you’ll miss the blade and be swept back into the truck with the rest of today’s haul. You’ll probably be alive when I dump you into the conveyer that takes the garbage to the shredder. Don’t take it personally, it’s my job to pick up garbage.” I looked at my watch again. “Two minutes baby.” I reached around and pulled the lever again. The blade came down further, about halfway down the hopper. One more pull and there would be no turning back. As far as I was told, if her mother didn’t come out and stop me, I was to complete the cycle. I reached down into the hopper and brushed some garbage out of the girl’s face. I hopped off the lip of the hopper and faced the back of the truck. My watched beeped twice. “Sorry little one, you know the deal. Obviously, your mother doesn’t feel you need to be salvaged. Keep your head back and you shouldn’t have a problem avoiding the blade.” I reached around and pulled the lever again, and the truck began its packing cycle. The blade slowly descended. I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. I flipped around and was looking at my friend. “Sorry, I was in the shower. You can let her out now, I think she learned her lesson.” She noticed her kid’s head in the hopper, as both her and the garbage disappeared under the packer blade. She covered her mouth in shock and stammered for a moment. “I can’t stop it. The packer cycle is completing. You shouldn’t have waited this long if you didn’t want me to follow through.” “Shit, shit, shit! I didn’t want this to go all the way through!” She watched with me as the blade pushed back up into its resting position, shoving the garbage that was in the hopper into the container. “She’s garbage now. I could possibly snag her off the conveyer at the disposal station, but it will be a few hours.” I said as I wiped sweat off my forehead. “No… There’s too much risk for you to do that…” She leaned up against the truck and sighed. “I’ll say she ran away. If you can wait a few minutes more, I’ll run upstairs and get some of her clothes and other items, so it looks right.” “Sure, hurry up though, I don’t want to be late on the route.” I tossed a bag from my back pocket to her and she ran inside. Several minutes later, she came running back outside, carrying a bag of items from her daughter’s room. She threw the bag into the hopper and smiled at me. “Thank you, regardless for this. I know I messed up, but hopefully you aren’t angry at me…” “Garbage is garbage. I’m just doing my job.” I gave her a hug, then ran back to the front of my truck. First time for everything, I thought to myself. ...

Note: Based on a short story found on the net. As I arrive at her house she is ready and waiting for me, as I am 15min late. She points to a kitchen chair placed in the hallway and orders me to “Strip.” I quickly get out of my clothes and place them neatly in a pile on the chair. I get down on all fours and crawl as quickly as I can from the hallway down into her kitchen. ...

continued from part 11 Part Twelve Three days had passed and Alice had not heard from the Baroness' kidnappers. The chief of security at the Baroness’ company discovered that one of his guards had been actually an impostor. Before he could be seized and questioned, the Baroness had been kidnapped. The impostor had tried to erase the security tape from the garage, but Martin had redundant systems installed, so that deliberate sabotage of the security system would be impossible. ...

continued from part 9 Part Ten Conditioning Katrina turned out to be easier said, than done. The Baroness had to use the swimming pool instead of the sensory deprivation tank, as the twin maid was too large to fit. It also took her and Alice a bit of getting used to as well. Except for Nadja, no other rubberslave had a name. Alice’s former roommate Betty and the two former burglars also had names. However, they were not even considered human, since they were a pony and watchdogs, so they didn’t really count. ...

It was in the mid 90s before LCD projectors became the norm for office conferences. Our company was specialized in manufacturing tarp and other similar product. Our plant was producing heavy duty rubber coated cotton tarp. I had just been promoted to the personal secretary to my new manager on the 2nd floor 3 weeks beforehand. On that dreadful morning, I was just finishing copying a presentation that my boss was going to make. The presentation was scheduled to start in 2 minutes and I was running late. As soon as I finished putting them together, I headed for the conference room, taking a shortcut on the pathway that overhung the production floor behind the office. I don’t usually go this way as the noise is so loud. On my way to the conference room, my right heel got caught in a crack in the old concrete sending me off balance. Trying to regain my balance, I dropped the presentation on the floor and my worst nightmare happened. One of the copies glided toward the edge and dropped below on to the production floor. ...

As I am walking to the garbage room beneath my townhouse complex, I wonder what mysteries await for me. I reach for the door, but a young woman emerges with a smirk on her face. She is startled by my appearance … no shirt, sweatpants, and no shoes or socks. After all, I didn’t need to go outside to get here, and I was ready for bed. I enter the odorous room, as I look back to see she has quickly vanished. The door slams behind me as usual, yet this time seems to have wedged itself shut pretty good. ...

The sudden deaths of fifty-five year old Walter and fifty-four year old Sylvia Bridgestone in a plane crash came as a shock to their friends and associates. As the founder of the law firm Bridgestone, Curtis and Wang, Walter was clearly a leading figure in the community. His wife belonged to numerous organizations – many of which conducted formidable charitable activities. The dual funeral was attended by almost two thousand people. Without a doubt the loss of the Bridgestones had impacted many. It also impacted Walter and Sylvia’s son, Jason. Recently married, Jason had attended law school, following in his father’s footsteps. On graduation and passing the bar, Jason found a place in his father’s firm, working with a few others, under the tutelage of both his father, Richard and Ronald Curtis – twins, and Chester Wang. Jason always assumed that he would take his father’s place some day in the distant future, and on his father’s unexpected death, he would move up immediately. But since the accident, the remaining members of the firm made no mention of such a possibility. To his frustration, the Curtis brothers, executors of the estate, seemed to be taking a long time to settle affairs. Jason also expected to inherit his parents’ estate - a very large home located in the center of a fifteen-acre plot in a suburb near the city. In fact, Jason had not even been allowed to visit the property until all of the legalities were finalized. Finally, Jason and his bride drove through the gates of heavily fenced estate, along the drive through a wooded area, and up to the house. As he and Judy stood at the front door, she said, “This place must hold so many memories for you.” “Not so,” he said. “My parents bought the land when I was about three years old. It took a couple of years to get everything in order and start construction. By the time it was done, the fence, everything else, I was in school and they always sent me off to boarding school. Summers I was in sports camp or something. So I was here only a few days for holidays. I’m really not all that familiar with the place.” They looked out from the porch, then opened the door, and entered. Together they walked through the place, examined each of the six bedrooms, the kitchen, formal dining room, and many bathrooms. On the back of the house, they looked out on the tennis court and the large swimming pool. There were no quarters for servants – the Bridgestones had hired in help on a daily basis, but only they lived in the place at night. The fence and woods that surrounded the house kept out intruders. Judy and Jason continued to explore the house. The master bedroom was huge with an oversized bed. They discovered that there were two large walk-in closets – his and hers. “Her clothes don’t fit me,” sighed Judy. “We’ll give away most of the clothes to a charity,” said Jason. They continued to explore. After a while, Jason called his wife – “Look here.” She joined him in his father’s closet. “There are three large chests of drawers here. One has sox and undershirts in it. But the other two are filled with jockstraps. Hundreds and hundreds of jockstraps. I’ve never seen so many, and they all seem to be different. Nicely rolled up and stored neatly. My father seems to have had a jockstrap fetish!” The young Bridgestones went on exploring their new house, finding everything in order. Except for the two odd chests filled with jocks, the rest of the house appeared just as one would expect in the home of a middle-aged couple. On the main floor were the six bedrooms. Down a flight of steps, the basement housed a large party room with wet bar, entertainment center, comfortable chairs and tables – a place to have guests on less formal occasions. On one side of the room were changing and shower facilities and a door that led out to the yard and the pool or tennis court. Jason and Judy moved in, closed out their apartment, gave away the clothes they could not use, and settled into live in their new home. At work, Jason’s position remained unchanged. When he approached either Ronald or Richard Curtis about his future in the firm, they were evasive which was frustrating at best. But life went on, and Jason waited to see what would happen. Jason and Judy had been in their new home just over six months when it happened. He arrived at the house on Friday after work and found Judy waiting for him with dinner cooking, and everything in order. She had been wonderful moving into the role of housewife, cook, and looking after him. After they ate, Judy began, “Jason, do you trust me?” “Or course,” he said with a questioning look. “Then I want you to do something that may seem odd. I want you to take off all of your clothes, and put on this jockstrap.” “You’re kidding,” he said looking at the minimal garment that she held out toward him. “I’m not kidding,” she said. “A great deal hangs on how you respond tonight. More than you might imagine.” “Very mysterious,” he said. But he went to the bedroom, stripped and put on the jock. She watched and smiled. “You look good in a jockstrap,” she said. “Should wear them more often.” “Right,” he said. “You want me to acquire a jock fetish like my father?” “Sort of,” she said. “Now, turn around and put your hands behind your back.” “You’re kidding.” “No and do it. This is important. You’ll find out, just trust me.” So Jason turned, and Judy approached him with a length of rope in her hands. “What are you doing?” Jason protested. “I’m tying you up,” she said mater-of-factly. “Hold still.” “Why are you tying me up?” He asked. “This is kinky.” “You don’t know the half of it,” she said while binding his wrists securely. “Now open your mouth.” “Why?” he said again. “Because I said so,” she said flatly. Jason complied, and was more than startled when she pulled a ball gag into his mouth securing it behind his head. He tried to protest again, but by then, it was too late. Jason turned and faced his wife, his hands bound behind his back, nude except for the jock, and now gagged. The sounds he made through the gag indicated that he was demanding to know what was going on. “This should bring back memories,” she began, making him sit on the bed while they talked. “You and your father belonged to the same fraternity at the University – right?” He nodded and grunted – yes. “Do you remember the introductory dance – when you met the girls from the sorority that was affiliated with your fraternity? Again he grunted and nodded, yes. “Weren’t you similarly bound, wearing only a jockstrap, and gagged at that dance?” A third time he grunted and nodded, yes. “It was at that dance that your mother and father met. She fell in love with him then and there – seeing him bound, gagged, jocked – really affected her. You are now wearing that same jock that he wore on that night. Now, come with me. You have a big surprise ahead of you.” ...

continued from part two Part Three Alice sat as still as possible in the rubber bag as it slightly swayed from the ceiling. She had been trapped inside it for at least four days. The force-feeding continued. Sleep was impossible, as the mush and liquid came through the feeding/breathing tube at all hours. She was afraid to sleep for fear that she could choke to death. The drug continued its work; her bowels and bladder emptying without her ability to control them. ...

continued from part one Part Two The Baroness guided Alice towards a set of large oak doors in the west wing of the castle. These were the Baroness’ sleeping quarters. Alice watched, as the Baroness opened the heavy doors with ease. What she saw caused her to shiver in fear, yet become aroused. The rooms were covered in black rubber. Not just things like the bedsheets and curtains, but EVERYTHING! The wallpaper was thin latex sheeting. The furniture had been coated in liquid latex. The carpet under her feet was actually rubber. The smell of it entered her nostrils and gave Alice an intense, erotic sensation. ...

(story continues from Trashy Dom Part 1: Arrival) Part 2: Instruction With a brief yelp of surprise, Jessica suddenly found herself tumbling through a sudden rush of cool air before disappearing in a mass of clothing, including what had shared her bag only moments before. Thankfully her head was clear, giving Jessica an unobstructed view of her surroundings. She definitely was in a pile of clothing, with thick cloth walls rising up on either side of her. She muffled her surprise and confusion through the gag, which brought a cheerful giggle from above. ...

Follow up to The Agent in Charge, this story is Alexi’s chronicle of what he sees during the story. It kind of fills in the blank spots that the first person telling can leave. I am told to put down the events and thoughts that brought me to this situation I find myself. I must provide a little background for future readers to understand how this happened. I was a new Soviet Man in the mid-1980’s, twenty-four years old and a graduate of the Moscow State University with emphasis in Western culture and economics. I was recruited by the KGB as an analyst. I sat at a desk for six months studying western intelligence report and economic figures. My superiors gave me high praise for my thorough and accurate analysis. I wanted more. I asked for the opportunity to be a field agent, to penetrate the decadent western industrial system and provide analysis of information I provided. The idea of having a field agent who knew what was important seemed like a good one as we often wasted many hours sifting through fluff to find the kernels of truth. ...

It was a beautiful clear spring day in the mountains. The national park was alive with the sounds of bird and insect life. There was a gentle breeze blowing across the valley. I had been walking since early morning and was now far from civilization in a remote area where I planned to spend some time alone getting my life back in order after the divorce. I was not really concentrating on anything just letting my mind rest and enjoying the walk when I became aware of the silence. The birds had suddenly stopped singing. Then I noticed a faint sound. It sounded like an electrical arc. That sort of szszszs sound you get when welding. ...

At the age of 18 I discover the vacuum bed when I see it on the internet. I already have discovered my latex fetish and the wonderful feeling of being bound. The images and videos of this mighty device with its shiny surface following the beautiful curves of the woman inside immediately turns me on. My little cock swells to gigantic proportions and I caress myself while thinking about being bound inside such an apparatus. ...

Chapter 17: A Proper Slave Then it was morning, not that Selena had any awareness other than the gentle caress of a warm hand stroking her forehead. She opened her eyes in the dim light and at once a surge of joy and delight flowed through her body and mind. “At last!” she silently voiced, then focussed on the form bending over her. The slaves head was an ovoid of gleaming latex with a proboscis projecting from where the mouth should be. A fully inflated helmet with vinyl eye pieces covered any evidence of femininity; only the shapely breasts signalled a feminine form. ...

One summer many years ago, I used to hang out in the parking lot of a local business once it had emptied after the workday. I was 18 years old, but I still had the playful spirit of someone ten years my junior, and I had nothing better to do. I know it seems weird, but I just liked to hang out in empty parking lots; I don’t know why. Technically, I was committing a crime—loitering—but I didn’t take that too seriously. ...

I’d had a hard couple of weeks at work, a few contracts needed to be finalised in a hurry and the pressure had been on me. Finally getting the paperwork finished and signed off, I left for home and a long weekend, three days to unwind and relax. I arrived home to find my husband sitting on the lounge with a big grin on his face, I knew that he had something planned when he looked like this, it always involved me bound and ending up having a great time. He spoke, “You’d best get undressed.” ...

(story continues from The Bins Next Door) Part Two I was well and truly panicking now as I struggled again in vain against the moist plastic garbage pile that surrounded me on all sides. I tried desperately to make some noise that might be heard by a passer by, but against the tight sealed tape over my mouth, all I could manage was a vague “mmmmm” noise, and I knew that even if someone stood right outside my steel trash prison, they would never hear it above the noise of the passing traffic. I had totally lost track of time, but I knew that from the fact that I was here at least one night, then Jake the garbarge boy would soon be here to do his job, and sweep away the trash to make way for another weeks load of spoil. ...

Well, I have to admit. Watching my new sex toy struggle against the bondage tape and trash filled bags that surround her as a vibrating dildo and butt plug cause her so much torment, made me think of the day we started to chat on that phone line: Part 1 “Good day to all you gentlemen. My name is Susan and I have a dark fantasy I want to live out with the right gentleman. I am 5 foot 9 inches tall with dirty brown hair and blue-green eyes and I weigh about 135 pounds. I am originally from Germany, but moved when I was an infant. Give me a guess at what my fantasy is and you might find yourself talking to me more and more.” ...

The duke had died quietly in his sleep. The next morning officials came and arranged for his funeral. He was buried two days later on the grounds, among his ancestors. Very few people attended and the press hardly took notice. Two days later another official came and asked the servants to assemble in the dining hall. The pompous little man sat at the head of the table, cleared his throat and read the will. ...

I have been a medical technician for 15 years, now working for Dr. Lora Latimer, who specializes in behavior modification. She has an M.D. and a Ph.D. in psychology and her practice is part of the Western General Hospital; and I am one of seven medical assistants. Dr. Latimer’s work is very advanced; she does primarily research on patients who behave far from the norm and are socially handicapped because of it. She has pioneered a number of procedures involving drugs, hypnosis, subliminal audio and video, electrical stimulation and sensory deprivation. ...

I found myself standing in front of a full length mirror. My feet were bare and I was wearing jeans and a blue small-checked shirt over a white t-shirt and white cotton briefs which covered no more than they needed to. My mouth was filled with a large ball-gag pushed deep in and over that was wrapped the whole of a wide adhesive bandage, completely sealing my mouth. My arms were tied behind my back with ropes at wrists, forearms and elbows and the rope round my forearms was also wrapped tightly round my waist just above my waistband, immobilising my arms. ...

Your name is Clingfilm1. Well, not exactly. That’s the name you go by when you’re online. It’s also the name that led to your grave. It all happened on an unassuming Monday morning. It was a typical, sunny day, full of birds singing, people on their way to work, along with the occasional happy shout of children playing in the local park. But by the end of the day, there would be no laughter. ...

Your name is Clingfilm1. Well, not exactly. That’s the name you go by when you’re online. It’s also the name that led to your grave. It all happened on an unassuming Monday morning. It was a typical, sunny day, full of birds singing, people on their way to work, along with the occasional happy shout of children playing in the local park. But by the end of the day, there would be no laughter. ...

I rang the doorbell and a camera immediately started swiveling above my head. “Yes?” a voice said in the speaker. “I am here about writing the story,” I said. “I’ll be right down,” the voice replied. I opened the door and stepped into the lobby. An ordinary apartment building, I thought, two apartments per floor, 5 stories high. The elevator descended, the door opened and out stepped a tall woman. “I’m the hostess and owner. Welcome to Internet Rubber,” she said and we shook hands. ...

I was still asleep when the doorman rang. “The new couple is here,” he said. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. “Tell them to park their car in a visitor slot in the garage and I will meet them in the lobby in 10 minutes.” I took a quick shower, dressed and took the elevator down to the lobby. A man and a woman were waiting next to four suitcases. “I’m Jasper Smith,” the man said as he shook my hand, “We apologize for being early,” He was short, skinny and looked a bit frightened. ...

A Halloween Special 2008 Tale “Trick Or Treat!!” Sarah opened the door of her apartment and saw 2 children standing there with open bags awaiting a treat from her, One was dressed as a witch and the other was dressed as a pirate. “How cute!! Here’s some extra candy since your costumes are so awsome!” She half fills each bag up with sweets and smiles to kids as they thank her and leave. Sarah loves halloween but this year she’d be spending it alone as her husband was working the night shift, and her friends all had plans. It was the first halloween she’d spent alone in years, but she was enjoying it, snuggling up on the couch with a blanket and some popcorn watching scary movies. There was a George Romero zombie movie marathon on that night, and by the second movie she’d already had around 10 trick or treaters. Sarah didn’t mind though, it was all part of the fun, even if it did interupt her movies from time to time. ...

(story continues from Recycling a Flatmate) Recycling A Flatmate Part 2 Lydia had dosed off, she had no idea how long for, but was woken by a slamming noise. It was the lid to her new bin; someone had shut it, but why? She was a little disorientated and it took her a few seconds to remember where she was and what sort of situation she was in. Her flatmate Fiona had stripped her, bound her and thrown her out in a large black shiny trash bag stuffed to the gunnels with newspaper. She wasn’t sure why, her only thought was that she had found some of the sites she’d been looking at involving her fetish for garbage bags, and being thrown out. Knowing how embarrassed she would get if Fiona had confronted her about this, it was typical for her flatmate to show an understanding in something she liked by getting involved first, and asking about it later, making Lydia more comfortable about it. But had she gone too far? ...

Nancy has different summer plans for her husband, as marriage counseling doesn’t always work out. A caustic tale of rotting, fetid garbage, unknown outcomes and a ride to the town’s transfer station. The acrid, putrid smell of my last 2 days permeates every pore of my sweat-drenched body. It is indescribable the ooze and slime that grows on everything on or near me, enveloping my every naked orifice. The odor has gotten so caustic that I can’t even sense the smell that continues to rot around me in my drum. ...

My fascination with being buried, unable to move under hundreds of stuffed garbage bags had been with me all my life, and like the others out there that I had seen online, I had often tried to stage these scenarios at home using big tough bags, tape and rope. More often than not, this turned out to be a big disappointment, but I knew that one day, I could find a way to safely make this fantasy come true. ...

It was hotter than he had expected. Granted, it was October and the weather outside had taken on a definite fall chill in the air so the radiator inside the apartment was steaming full blast, but he had not thought that it would be so warm and actually humid bundled as he was in the two huge, zip-tied trash bags. He was sweating bullets, and starting to reek from his own body odor in the close confines, never mind the rancid smelling garbage that Judy had dumped into the bags and over him before going to bed - how long ago? ...

LilBoundGirl: I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it. My parents went up the wall about me trying to leave and they took my car keys away. BossTucker: … LilBoundGirl: I REALLY wanted to meet up with you. BossTucker: Did you really? LilBoundGirl: YES! BossTucker: I don’t know. Personally it sounds like a load of shit there. LilBoundGirl: What?! BossTucker: I think you got cold feet and chickened out. LilBoundGirl: I did NOT! I’m telling you I wanted to meet up with you. BossTucker: Prove it. LilBoundGirl: … LilBoundGirl: How? BossTucker: Tell me where you live. LilBoundGirl: I can’t. You know I live at home with my folks. I only turned 18 last month. BossTucker: Then I think you’re chicken. LilBoundGirl: … BossTucker: I’m signing off. There’s another girl online who deserves my attention. LilBoundGirl: No! Wait. BossTucker: Yes? LilBoundGirl: … BossTucker: You had something you wanted to say? LilBoundGirl: Fine. But you HAVE to keep it quiet. If my parents find you here they’ll go through the roof. BossTucker: Oh don’t you fret. If anyone has to worry about keeping quiet, it’s YOU. Send me the address. ...

continued from part six Chapter 7: First taste of real Punishment. “I have turned up the heating in your cell to maximum as I don’t want you to get cold during the night. I have opened the drain tube on the bottom of the rubber sauna bag and placed a bowl underneath it to catch the dribbles of sweat that will drain out during the night. So don’t swing about in your suspension or there will be drips of sweat on your cell floor and each drip will earn you fifty demerits, plus one hundred and fifty per drip for disobeying me.” ...

Part 4: A Day To Remember – The First Sessions One day she asked to be punished, with no limits, she said! I am a piece of meat; do as you wish, she said. You have 24 hours she said. I don’t know what brought this on but I had been noticing that she was getting more and more into the sub role. She had complete trust in me, and I in her, and she was getting a real taste for this. ...

Friday, 7 p.m. I was standing in the small bedroom upstairs, encased in three rubbersuits. I would be unable to get out of them for 12 hours. The preparations had started an hour earlier, as soon as I got home. First I administered an enema and emptied my bladder with a catheter. Then I pulled on the first rubbersuit, a thin red one with an extension that covered my penis and balls tightly. Over my head I pulled a thin red latex hood and my arms got covered with long, thin, red latex gloves. As I checked myself in the mirror I inserted a gag into my mouth and inflated it to a comfortable pressure. ...

This story is dedicated to all my friends in the forum, Who showed so much concern over what happened to me in part one, if your name is not mentioned here, Do not worry Its just due to the lack of editorial space allocated here to me by Gromet so please blame him. Continued from part one Part Two Jenny lost all account of time and had no idea as to how long she had been entombed in underground storage facility. The air that was constantly being pumped into her lungs containing all the necessary nutriments, and liquids in an air born vapour to sustain her. ...

Jo is a student, living in a small flat with several roommates. Her appearance, is stunning, at least to guys. Not too tall, long blonde hair, a very nice face and some great curves. But she isn’t a very tidy girl, her school work is slacking, and she loves to party. Well, besides from typical student behavior, she also invites her friends over regularly to party. All roommates do the same but the parties Jo throws almost always getting out of hand. Usually it ends with several drunk girls and guys, shouting and breaking stuff, generally causing a nuisance all over the flat. By then, Jo is usually nowhere to be seen, often diving in bed with one or two of the hunks she invites. Of course, this causes lot of trouble for the other roommates, who end up cleaning up after her, because after a party, she sleeps till midday. And we all know how much mess a party can give. ...

I think bondage can add spice to life, and a little fear can add even more spice, my boyfriend Len was well into bondage and even reached the stage where he would make bondage furniture for other people. On occasion’s he would ask if I was willing to try a piece of his equipment out for him before he delivered it to a customer, it was Saturday and the phone went, it was Len, he asked if I was free to test a piece of gear for him, As I have nothing on I agreed. ...

I think bondage can add spice to life, and a little fear can add even more spice, my boyfriend Len was well into bondage and even reached the stage where he would make bondage furniture for other people. On occasion’s he would ask if I was willing to try a piece of his equipment out for him before he delivered it to a customer, it was Saturday and the phone went, it was Len, he asked if I was free to test a piece of gear for him, As I have nothing on I agreed. ...

She sat trembling at the same speed as her motor. She tried to calm down, but her tummy hurt, and she couldn’t let go of the steering wheel. She couldn’t see across the road. She could hardly see the resolute traffic moving slowly through the heavy snowfall. The drive from her home to the Truck stop usually only took 35 minutes. Today it took an hour and 10 minutes. The road was slick with heavy slush, and whiteouts blurred fields of fallen corn stalks. Panther noticed that her teeth were chattering, and her fingers were sore. She let go of the steering wheel and sighed. The Truck stop was filling up fast as travelers sought respite from the gales. Lake effect flurries my ass, she thought sourly. This was no lake effect. This was a blizzard from the plains, and now she would miss the party, damn it. Lady Swan had called a long while back and said she was at a crawl on the Thruway, and wasn’t sure what to do. Panther told her this was the next exit after, and Swan should try for it, where there was ample lodging. ...

My husband is one of the most difficult men I ever shopped for. He never likes what I buy for him and never tells me what he wants. When I ask him what he would like for Christmas, his response is “just you dear”. He always buys me very thoughtful gifts, except for the numerous garter belts with expensive stockings and no panties. I always wear them to humor him but they go by the wayside soon after the holidays. ...

I was sitting at my computer when Hank came up to me, wrapping his arms around my chest and pressing his muzzle against the back of my ears. His breath was warm on my fur & teased my ears. His arms were strong, held tight under my chest and he had the smell of trash lingering over him. No surprise as he was a garbage man. It was how we met in fact. ...

Rusty surprised me when I came home; he was waiting just past the door of the apartment, leaning against the far wall with a black trash bag in his hand. After a long day of work that was the end of a long week of work seeing my wolf holding that was just the thing to brighten me up. It meant he had plans for the long weekend, the kind of plans that made me giddy just by looking at him. ...

The call from Felix was a shock. His voice was weak and hoarse. “I need to see you urgently,” he said, “I’m in the hospital, I got cancer. I need your help to take care of something.” I had known him for a few years, but had talked with him only three times at meetings of the Rubber Club. I found him very secretive; he never talked about his personal life. So I was surprised that he would ask me for help. But when someone tells you that he is dying, there is really no choice. I told him that I would get a flight the next day and got the address of the hospital from him. ...

As the train chuffs through the darkening countryside I covertly study the ladies sitting opposite me. Both are wearing long black leather coats trimmed with dark fur and matching fur hats. Each has a beautiful white silk scarf caressing her throat. I don’t think they realise how closely I am studying them but I can’t be sure because their eyes are hidden behind tinted glasses. On one of them the silk scarf shimmers in the last rays of sunlight. I wonder who they can be. They seem important, almost as if they are managers or senior politicians. If so they are very unusual for that time and country. ...

I’d been overseas for 3 months, with only phone contact with A. Now I was back. Instructions had been given from my last stopover for her preparations. A had to be ready at 8.30. She was to be dressed and blindfolded in her black latex catsuit and hood with the remote control butt plug inserted. All the rubber was to be laid out neatly in our playroom along with all the implements of punishment and pleasure. ...

Nothing to do tonight. I’ve been divorced so long it seems like forever. So I do what I usually do when I’m bored and horny. I get the ropes and pantyhose out of the drawer and get ready to have some good intense orgasms. Self-bondage can make me have the most intense orgasms I have ever had. I don’t know if it’s the straining against the ropes are just not having any control. It’s just great. ...

Six months. That was how long Samantha had been a resident at the Wensly household. Not as a guest, yet not even as a household worker. Her position here was a specialty… Samantha was the household slave. Not a position she had really wanted, mind you. Rather, it was the result of some rather unfortunate circumstances. Not being able to pay off some bills towards her boss, she had elected the route of becoming an indentured servant… but a few little contract changes and she essentially became the property of Mrs. Wensly, owner of the household. ...

It had been a glorious spring day and I had enjoyed the peace and solitude of a walk in the countryside alone. It had given me time to reflect on all the wonderful times I had experienced with my very close friend, dating back to our school days. I am of course, referring to our fun and games experimenting with latex, rubber etc. Progressively this developed into all elements of the BDSM scene. Julie my friend discovered that she was very dominant. For me, I discovered the delights of being very submissive. We had both taken each other to new heights and explored each others interest with passion. ...

The Island - Part Two With small steps we enter the great room of the lodge, and the 18 bidders greet Madame L with great respect. She nods acceptance, but does not speak until she has tied off my leash to a ring on the auction block. After formally greeting each guest, she inspects the other slave units already on display. Slave unit C is dressed in a shiny silver latex catsuit and privacy hood, which complement the shine on the heavy metal neck/wrists stock and matching ankle spreader she is wearing. Two vertical poles connect the ends of the neck stock with the ends of the ankle spreader, effectively enclosing her in a picture frame. A third vertical pole rises from the center of the ankle spreader into her crotch, discreetly covered for the time being by a red latex miniskirt. ...

This is a true story in every details … if you are brilliant enough to see the dangers and you still feel confident that you can manage it safely … then try it! :) Its 5:00pm, time to go home, I had a very bad/boring/unpleasant/annoying day at work. Is it not how all good self-bondage experience should begin? I jump in my car and 10 minutes later I’m at home. I open the door, close the door… then lock the door. Locking yourself at home isn’t a sort of self-bondage? Maybe this is why it feel so good. ...

The second Thursday every month I take the train to the city and spend a few hours at the Rubber Club. I like chatting with friends who feel the same way about dressing in rubber. They are mostly men, a few couples and once in a while a single female; the dress-code is strictly rubber. It was on such a Thursday that I first saw her. She had a spectacular body, which was encased in a bright-red rubber suit. Her legs were in thigh-high rubber boots, her arms in shoulder-length latex gloves and her head was covered by a tight red latex hood. ...

Cheryl’s first indication that things were wrong was when she walked onto the high school stage and the rest of the drama club wasn’t there. She looked at her watch. Five fifteen p.m., she was only a little bit late for rehearsal. She dumped her backpack on the floor and headed to the props room. When she opened the door, someone grabbed her hand and yanked her forward so that she fell on the floor. She screamed and tried to get up, but a heavy weight pressed on her back and held her still. A hand clamped around her mouth as her hands were pulled up behind her back and tied. Her kicking legs were grabbed and tied, with rope cinching around her ankles and then crisscrossing around her calves and up her thighs, the knots pinching her skin even through her jeans. ...

He could see her coming out of the office, the last member of the varsity volleyball team locking up the equipment. Every practice, the team took turns locking up the gym and leaving last. Tonight was her turn, and he was more than ready. There was no one else on campus, even the coaches and most devoted teachers had gone home. The sun had set, the lights were almost all out, and they were the only two left. ...

At first I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. The ad said “Widow looking for husband. Must be devoted rubberist, close to 5'10” in height and 170lbs in weight". I was puzzled by the specification of height and weight, but the “devoted rubberist” part intrigued me, so I called the number in the ad. I reached an answering machine that told me to leave my number. The next day I got a call from a woman who curtly said, “Meet me at Millar Park in an hour, south side and bring an umbrella”. It wasn’t raining. ...

Madam is very rich and lives in a large mansion. She has three female servants: a cook, a maid and an assistant. All three are dedicated rubberists. Madam is a rubber dominatrix and I’m one of her rubber slaves. I live in the mansion. There are other slaves, many of them, but they come for visits, staying a day or two each time. Three of the four stories of the mansion are dedicated to rubber. The basement is a large and well-equipped dungeon. The street floor has a parlor, the kitchen, the dining room and a laundry. The floor above it has Madam’s bedroom and bathroom, her study, and a huge rubber wardroom with well over a thousand rubber garments. On the top floor are the rooms for the servants, myself and the guests. ...

“Are you ready for the party, little Penny?” Penny had been ready for weeks, ever since Mistress Tamara had told her about the upcoming BDSM Social. She loved the group’s events, and while it hadn’t been mentioned yet, Penny’s birthday was only a few days afterward, and she was hoping that Mistress had something planned. However, being excited wasn’t what Mistress meant by ‘ready’ - she meant being dressed. Penny walked out of her bedroom in the black PVC maid’s dress she’d been ordered to wear: long-sleeved with a high collar, and a short skirt flaring widely out over a nylon crinoline. Neither the skirt nor the short, broad white PVC apron did a sufficient job of hiding the tight black unlined vinyl panties underneath. ...

(story continues from Recycled 3) Part 4 I was exhausted already as I reached the foot of the stairs. It had been hard, worming my way forward with my hands and elbows bound behind my back, my ankles tied, but I knew that I had to if I wanted eventual release… My girlfriend Lisa and I liked to play bondage games you see, just to spice up our relationship and have a little fun. We had both spent many an hour at the other’s mercy; bound and gagged and writhing in ecstasy for the other’s pleasure. This past long weekend however, we had stepped things up a bit and tried a new fetish that I had been interested in. Lisa and I were both off work for three days, so I had convinced her to tie me up and gag me for the duration, then finally to secure me in industrial strength and huge recycling and trash bags and to treat me as garbage. Lisa had put me through some paces, and I could tell that she had loved the dominance and my helplessness by the way that she had treated me and got into the whole thing. She HAD treated me like the day’s trash and threw me out with the garbage, basically taking me downstairs to the garbage room after hours at her merciless torment, actually threatening to leave me to the tender loving hands of New York Sanitation, to be hauled away to Staten Island eventually and buried in the landfill there. ...

The following is partially a work of fiction and partly true. You can imagine where the line between truth and fiction falls, but you’ll see for yourself that I am not a fiction writer and I am mostly writing from first hand experience. It really started several years ago when I discovered that the tight feeling induced by tights, stockings, leotards, etc. could be really exciting. I’ve experimented with various articles and the opportunities that each presented. Full body unitards, long sleeved and footed, are probably my favorite all around exciting article, but they present problems in making any final contact, usually resulting in the need for immediate cleaning. Although somewhat unsatisfying for a close encounter to my wife, it adds “spice” to an otherwise very straight relationship for variety. ...

Ian slowly undressed his little slave girl and placed her on the bed at one side, while he got the items for tonight’s play from the wardrobe. He surveyed Diane with awe as she lay there on the top sheet; the duvet was needed elsewhere. Such an obedient little sex slave she was. He carefully took the duvet out from its cover and rolled it up neatly along side all the other items. Diane watched with glee as one by one the items were placed beside her body ready for her Master’s use. Already she was tingling in her pussy at the thought of the enjoyment she was about to have. ...

Kat had been waiting months for this day to come for months. The past three months had been a blur of pleasure for the young girl. She was 19, and a serious rubber fetishist. It had taken her six months of searching for the special group of people of which she was about to join. Each and every one were rubber fetishists to the extreme. It had taken a of effort just to get invited to one of their parties, and ever more to actually be considered for membership. She had to pass a rigorous physical and disease screening program before she could enter their large mansion in the country. ...

Part 3 Chapter 6: The Wet Pack Treatment (or it’s a wrap) I am not sure how long I had slept but after Patti gave me my breakfast shake I fell into a deep sleep. The next thing I knew I was looking up into the face of Dr. Smith. She said hello, and that she needed to discuss my treatment. “Mr. Murphy all the test we did on you yesterday show that you will be the perfect candidate for this therapy, and I would very much like you to under go this treatment." ...

I traveled to visit a good friend that loves bondage too. His parents are elderly and he had recently put his father in a nursing home. Now that he was taken care of professionally instead of by my friend, he had a lot more time on his hands. I love to be mummified and he loves to top me and enjoys mummification too! So, while his mom was out one day, I showed up (so she wouldn’t know I was there and ask him where I was all the time) and I was summarily stripped and heavily mummified. (Several layers of saran and then shrink wrap, covered by a couple overlapping layers of duct tape, head to toe with just a mouth tube, piss tube and nostril tubes sticking out) “Time to get you put away before Mom comes home.” And I am lifted and placed in a large garment bag with a piss bag connected to that tube, and placed up on a high shelf in the hall closet, with the mouth and nose tubes sticking out appropriate holes. Soon after that, I hear his mother come in and dealt with things as usual, not knowing there was a man mummified and on one of her closet shelves! The day progressed and that evening, I was pulled down and taken down into the basement where I was taken out of the garment bag, teased and jerked off, and then placed in a large pickup truck tool box that was in the basement somewhere. It already had pillows and blankets in it, I was given a small bottle of Gatorade, and once done, told goodnight and the lid shut. I laid there taking in how great everything felt so far and drifted off to sleep. The next morning, I was taken out of the toolbox and carried up stairs. I was told his mother was still asleep, was again given a Gatorade, then a nice cup of coffee (I love coffee in the morning), my piss bag was changed and then I was placed into a large trunk in the living room, with my knees pulled up slightly and my head down, hard to do wrapped as I was, and my piss bag placed next to me and my breathing tubes connected to a couple attachments that connected to outside air, then I had a false bottom type cover placed in over me, and then a lot of stuff to fill the trunk. I was told he was leaving me there most of the day as he had a lot of errands to run and was also taking his mom a few places later on as well. I was there for hours and hours, beginning to get cramped up actually when I heard his voice. He was telling his mother that his father had just taken a turn for the worse at the Nursing Home and that they had to go there right away. I heard some movement and then a door slamming. An unknown time later he came in, waking me up as he took me out of the trunk, apologizing for leaving me so long, but he only had a few minutes available. So he carried me out into the garage, given more Gatorade and 2 Protein shakes and changing the piss bag again. I was then placed in a long bag, similar to a large tent bag, and then hoisted up to the attic and left hanging there. I was told he would leave me there for the rest of the day and if any family members did show up from out of town, I wouldn’t be found in the house. After an unknown time hanging there in the bag, I heard the garage door open up and voices. “We need to clean out this garage for them. There is a lot of junk in here!” and you could hear a lot of things being moved around and different voices talking to each other. I was afraid of being discovered! All of a sudden I heard my friends voice asking what was going on, it was explained and he told them not to worry, he’d take care of it all later, he was going to go through all the boxes and sort it all out and soon the voices diminished and then a door shut. Later I was taken down, given more Protein shakes and water, jerked off, asked if I was okay (1 grunt for yes, 2 for no) Of course I did 1! ...

Authors note: This story is based on the story “PS” by RubberH, where a woman, in the distant future is sentenced to spend a year encased in rubber in public. This story is set in the same universe, just slightly before the events of that story. I wonder if this time I’ll still remember what grass looks like… … I suppose my life’s story isn’t all that important. Those of us who end up in my situation really don’t exist anymore. All that someone would need to know is that when I was a young man, I was warned early on in school about the dangers of turning to a life of crime. ...

Authors Note: I have wanted to write a garbage story since Gromet first put this category on the site. I didn’t know quite how it would fit together, but the outline eventually took shape. It can be a little rough in places, but I always wanted a cat fight in one of my stories, so…. This also reminds me of a girl I used to know. She liked to wear bin bags and get smothered in goop. Hmmm (Fond memories). Anyway, enjoy. ...

I am a true rubber devotee. I own a house which is both my home and my office. Upstairs I have a hidden room which contains my rubber garments, about 150 of them. And I have plenty of time to enjoy it; working as a consultant on long-term projects, I can decide when I want to work and when I want to relax in rubber. My favorite way to relax is to dress in a few rubber garments after lunch and work on my computer for a few hours. ...

Five years ago my wife divorced me because of my love for rubber. She never understood rubber and could never get herself to wear rubber for me. To tell you the truth, the divorce was a relief. I’m an inventor and, fortunately, some of my inventions have made me a lot of money. Even after the divorce settlement I had plenty left over to buy a large house and equip it the way I had dreamed about for years. It took me three years to complete the installation and to acquire a truly large collection of rubber garments. Now that everything is in place and working, let me tell you about my rubber place. ...

Max had put on his favorite rubber outfit: several latex underpants, two pairs of long latex gloves, a thin latex hood and a heavier on top of it, two rubber suits, rubber boots, two rubber overalls, a gasmask, a pair of heavy rubber jeans and a heavy rubber raincoat. He checked the locks in the harness of the gasmask and in the belt of the raincoat; they were secure. He would stay in rubber for several hours, the locks made sure of that. ...

Wet Country For two weeks each spring I rent a cottage. It is not an area where you would ordinarily vacation, for there is hardly ever any sunshine. In fact it rains almost constantly there during that time of the year. Which is just fine with me. The cottage is quite remote, in a wooded area. I pack every rubber garment I own into my van and drive there on Monday morning. I get to the cottage about noon and spend a good hour moving in. Every closet in the place gets filled with rubber and what is left over I hang on the walls or drape over furniture. By about 2 p.m. I am ready. I dress in two rubber suits, rubber boots, rubber gloves and a latex hood with an inflatable gag and a gas mask. Then I put on a heavy rubber trench coat with a wide belt. Two padlocks make it impossible for me to get out of the rubber, one for the belt and one for the neck-strap of the coat. Then I go for a long walk in the rain. ...

The rain started shortly after 8 p.m. George turned on his computer and searched for the weather forecast. Two days of rain, it said. Ideal. He went to his rubber wardrobe and started dressing. First a pair of latex briefs with a detailed attachment for the penis and balls and a thin, long rubber tube at the tip. Next a thin rubber suit with an opening in the crotch. He pulled the tube and his private parts through the opening. Then he pulled a latex mask over his head; the mask had a soft gag, with a breathing tube through the center. ...

Kat had been waiting months for this day to come for months. The past three months had been a blur of pleasure for the young girl. She was 19, and a serious rubber fetishist. It had taken her six months of searching for the special group of people of which she was about to join. Each and every one were rubber fetishists to the extreme. It had taken a of effort just to get invited to one of there parties, and ever more to actually be considered for membership. She had to pass a rigorous physical and disease screening program before she could enter their large mansion in the country. ...

Rubber Fantasies 8: The Pill The woman at the door wore horn-rimmed glasses and carried a note-pad in one hand. “We would like to conduct a study with your organization,” she said. “What organization?” I asked. “Why, your rubber club of course,” she replied. I asked her in and closed the door behind her. “What is this all about,” I asked “Can we sit down somewhere, I have quite a bit to tell you.” I led her into the reception room and pointed out a chair. “I am a researcher in pharmacology and I developed a new pill which increases the desire and frequency of orgasm in men. We are in the clinical trial stage and need test subjects. So far it looks like the pill will allow orgasms to occur every 15 minutes, rather than once an hour or so. And you are ready to proceed to the next orgasm immediately after the last one. The penis stays erect from orgasm and the subject has an irresistible need for an orgasm” ...

I was sitting in my recliner, with the back almost all the way down. I had put on two rubber suits, a pair of soft rubber boots, a comfortable latex hood, a gasmask and two pairs of latex gloves. My penis and balls were sheathed in rubber and protruding through the rubber suits. I was totally relaxed and unintentionally fell asleep. Suddenly a rubber-clad woman appeared before me. Her lithe body was encased in a bright red rubber suit. “Who are you” I asked. ...

I saw her advertisement in one of the rubber magazines: “Spend a night in rubber, stimulated by a genuine rubber woman”. Of course I was intrigued, I am a genuine rubber freak. So I called and made an appointment. It was a large but ordinary house. After I rang the doorbell the “genuine rubber woman” opened the door, dressed in a red latex rubbersuit. “You be John, I assume”, she said. I nodded. “I am Mistress Ruby.” I shook her latex-gloved hand. She led me down to the basement. I walked behind her, carrying my suitcase and admiring her voluptuous rubber-clad figure. She turned on the light and I saw an assortment of bondage contraptions: a rubber-covered bed with several wide rubber straps, a bondage chair, a hammock made from rubber, a rubber bag hanging ominously on the wall between several rubbersuits, a rubber straightjacket, several other rubber bondage bags, a medical examination chair with stirrups, a very large bathtub in a glass enclosure, a bondage pole and a large TV set. ...

Ah, the things you will do to write a story. All I was trying to do was finish up part two of the story “Surprise Package”. I ended up with an adventure I had to write about instead. I just wish I had pictures to go along with it. Maybe I will do it all over again and get some pictures._ I got up this morning and with everyone else in the house gone, I figured it would be a great time to dress to the hilt and finish up part two of the story. So off I went, shaved all over, put some makeup on, and slipped into this purple top and brown skirt. Of course you can’t forget about the nylons, shoes, fixing the hair and then just a touch of perfume! As always I was in heaven. ...

Hi everybody, this is an absolutely true experience. I had the most intense experience tonight. I’m literally writing this mere hours after my Mistress threw me in the dumpster. I’m sending it out while its fresh in my memory, but let me tell this from the beginning. Mistress Kiva has been my Mistress for years and we have indulged many of our fantasies both mine and hers. We’ve made lots of fetish videos together and traveled all over the country selling my fetish erotic art and her fabulous fetish toys. You can see Mistress Kiva at www.mistresskiva.com and my art www.veronicavinyl.com ...

So, one damp night I had my share of drinks…so what, right? Well, that is what I thought, as I lay in this black plastic bag, sealed at the top with a twist tie, then knotted above that. What the hell was I thinking, knowing I had to get up so early. (Thinking to myself), if I ever get out of this, alive, I will never take another drink, as long as I live. I guess I should start at the beginning. I was sitting at the bar minding my own business, eating some bar nuts in between beers. There were some people on stage using vacuums with regular black plastic bags, suffocating guys that anted up the $120. What a waste of money… that could go for some nice shoes, or a nice dinner with a babe. No, they wasted it by being semi-suffocated, although some of the girls really looked as if they were taking it to the final level. A few of the guys were thrashing inside their deflated bags, enough to where you could see their eye profiles, and teeth. The bags were so tight, they were literally sucking bag in instead of air, and it looked they were really struggling because the bags were holding their limbs so tight. ...

I paid the cab driver, lifted the bag and took Fran’s arm. We both had been looking forward to this weekend, although we didn’t quite know what was in store. We walked up the stair and rang the doorbell. Underneath the button was a sign which read: “Members and Guests Only.” The heavy door opened immediately. We walked in and the door closed automatically behind us. We were standing in a small room, alone. A sign pointed to the right: ”Dressing Room. Rubber Attire Only Beyond this Point." We dutifully went into the dressing room, opened the suitcase and put on the rubber garments. We had received instructions in the mail: bring tight-fitting rubber suits with crotch slits. My penis and balls were to be sheathed in rubber and pulled through the slit. Latex gloves and hoods were to be worn at all times. ...

I am a devoted rubber fan, have been as far back as I can remember. I never got married, being painfully shy and thinking that it was impossible to find a woman who would share my love for rubber. At the time this story begins I lived alone, renting a small, detached house. I had not seen the landlord in ten years, which suited me fine. Not that I didn’t like women, in fact I fantasized constantly about having sex with a woman in rubber. In my daydreams (and quite often at night too) my rubber women varied over a wide range: a willing slave, a skillful prostitute, an insatiable lover, a cruel mistress. ...

By training I am contractor. I renovate people’s houses. When this episode of my life began I had a small business of my own, albeit not a very successful one. I am quite good at my job but, you see, I have this problem: I am a rubber fetishist. I love to be dressed in rubber, even tied up in it. I have had this feeling ever since I can remember. The only way I can enjoy sex is being dressed head to toe in rubber. I always wanted to get married, but the woman of my dreams would have to love rubber too. I never found that woman. ...

I had been with the same company in Cleveland for 37 years when they offered me early retirement. I was only 56 years old, but I took it. After all, being single and having led a simple life, I had saved up more than a million dollars. More importantly, I wanted to have more time for myself. You see, I am a rubber fetishist. While I was working, the only thing I lived for was the evening and weekends, when I could be in my house and don my rubber garments. Over the years I had acquired more than 300 of them. ...

#13 Andreabound is Sold – Part One When Sara left early Monday morning she had left a note that said: Darling Andrea, Had a wonderful weekend. Thanks for the clothes and I’ve taken your spare keys – hope you don’t mind. I’ll be back Tuesday night at six. I left my handcuffs on your pillow. When I come you must be kneeling in your cell wearing them. I will be angry if you are not waiting for me. Kisses, Your lover, Sara-Jane. ...

My second trashbag story, combining my love of self bondage and discovery, along with being objectified and bagged - hope you enjoy. I had the day to myself, a rare day off during the working week and my wife was working today, the house was mine. After eating breakfast and some cleaning up, throwing some garbage into a bag in the kitchen that I would place in the bin later, I decided to check my emails. They turned out to be mostly spam and other junk mail, then there was one that sparked my curiosity, clicking on the link lead me to a story about someone being enclosed in a garbage bag and dumped. The story was on some group and clicking on the links I found several more stories that contained various forms of play involving trash, dumpster and most important of all - bondage. ...

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life will result in injury or death. My second trashbag story, combining my love of self bondage and discovery, along with being objectified and bagged - hope you enjoy. I had the day to myself, a rare day off during the working week and my wife was working today, the house was mine. After eating breakfast and some cleaning up, throwing some garbage into a bag in the kitchen that I would place in the bin later, I decided to check my emails. They turned out to be mostly spam and other junk mail, then there was one that sparked my curiosity, clicking on the link lead me to a story about someone being enclosed in a garbage bag and dumped. The story was on some group and clicking on the links I found several more stories that contained various forms of play involving trash, dumpster and most important of all - bondage. ...

John was surprised by the call. Her name was Kate Simpson, she said, of Allway Electronics. He had heard of her: her husband, who had founded Allway and was a wizard in electronics, had died a few years before and Kate Simpson had taken over the management of the company. She had no technical background and the speculation was that, without a technologist at the helm, the company would go under soon. But she was a tough boss and the company survived. “We need your help,” she said. “I want to hire you as a consultant, reporting directly to me.” John set up a meeting. ...

By training I am an electrical engineer, but my passion is and has always been . I have had a series of jobs, which I did well enough, but I dreamed of rubber all the time. I had made plenty of money, more than enough to buy a house and acquire a nice collection of rubber garments. But I was not happy; I wanted to spend all my time around rubber. ...

“Come on, Amanda! It will just be for today, and not even for that long!” Sherri’s voice took on an almost pleading tone as she widened her eyes with a mixture of hope and apprehension. Clasping her hands together in front of her chest, Sherri looked up towards Amanda, not letting up for an instant, “Besides, you agreed to it already, and you’re the only one I’d trust with this!” Amanda couldn’t help but feel herself slowly giving grounds to Sherri’s heartfelt pleads. Sherri had been her roommate for over two years now, and in that time, she had quickly learned of Sherri’s skill at negotiating matters so she got what she wanted. Even still, it hadn’t stopped Amanda and Sherri from becoming fast and close friends, and had led to a few interesting nights between the both of them; generally due to Sherri’s insistence and fantasies, from bondage to a bit of sexual play, generally with Sherri asking to be tied up or used in some way. ...

Author’s note: This is a true story lived by me. What was done here should not be attempted by anyone. If anything had gone wrong, it could have easily ended in my death. DARK I was your typical kid growing up. I played with my toy cars, G.I. Joe’s and my tree fort. I had 2 loving parents and a little sister. COLD I don’t really know what made me start doing it, but at a young age I started wearing pantyhose. ...

(story continues from Janice’s Discovery 2) Chapter 6 As the cab pulled away, Jessica looked back at Jason’s car with a pang of despair. “Damn that man!” she muttered. Six days! She would have to wait for six whole days before she could see him again…….six days before she would be bound, and gagged, and tormented, and hopefully have him fuck her brains out. She sat back in the seat with a deep sigh. ...

I heard the noise that I had been waiting for and literally jumped from the warmth of my bed before quickly running to the closest window. I heard Beth stirring behind me, rolling over but still safe and secure under the covers as I pulled the window curtains aside and pressed my face to the cool glass staring out and down. There was still a thin coating of snow in the shadowy corners and the street was damp and shining in the early light of the sun. A beautiful day by the looks of it, and quiet but for the rumble of the huge grinding engine and the ‘spflang’ of the dumpster’s massive arms. I stared at the garbage truck in all its glory. ...

Stacy took in a deep breath as she walked up the small steps of the porch to the door of the huge house. Pausing to set her bags down and smooth out her knee length skirt, she then put on her brightest smile and rang the doorbell. She felt months of tension trying to leave her shoulders, even as she took in another deep breath. While she waited, she couldn’t help but marvel at the mansion sprawled out at the top of the hill. Pristine white, with sparkling windows and a wide lawn, she couldn’t help but nod her head once, speaking to herself, “Mom and Dad sure did do well with this place.” A few moments after that, the door opened up, a woman dressed as a maid, and only a little older than Stacy greeting her with a slight bow, “Oh! Miss, you’re early! Come in, come in! Your parents weren’t expecting you for another half-hour. Please, let me get your bags.” Before Stacy could even offer an objection the tall, matronly woman swept past, taking up the two bags in one hand each without any difficulties. The woman was nearly a full six inches taller than Stacy’s own height of five foot five, and much stronger to boot. The maid’s hair was also a deep black color, with lush waves running through it; a sharp contrast to Stacy’s own golden-blonde hair, which was straight as can be. She also had a very shapely body, with wide hips and large, soft breasts, nearly a full double D cup size. Stifling a giggle, Stacy sighed, but knew better than to try to argue with her, “Thank you, Greta.” She smiled warmly if a bit tiredly to the woman, and took a brief opportunity to give the dark-haired woman a hug; she’d been like a nanny and best friend to Stacy for years now, and Stacy always enjoyed her company, even if the woman could be a bit formal. Taking a few steps into the doorway, Stacy called out into the house, “Mom? Dad? It’s me, I’m home!” Stacy’s cry was rewarded with a muted answer, and then a woman who looked like an older, slightly more shapely version of Stacy appeared, her long skirts brushing her toes, “Oh, Stacy! You’re early, I take it traffic wasn’t bad?” Stacy shook her head even as she shared an embrace with her mother. As she pulled back, she noticed that Greta had already gone into the house, probably to drop her bags off. ...

My first time, truth or fiction??? I had been living with my boyfriend for about 6 months and we were now very comfortable with each other. We are both into the bsdm lifestyle so it was not uncommon for us to tie each other up. One night, Mike came up to me and asked if he could be tied up and then hidden someplace where there was a risk that he might be discovered. He said, “It would be a rush to be hidden without people knowing that I was there, yet still have the risk of being caught.” I thought about it for a second and then said, “OK, what do you have in mind?” Besides, this has the potential to be a real fun time for both of us. Mike said, “You know that it is girls night out tomorrow?” I said, “Yesssss and?” “Welllll, what do you think would happen if one of them accidentally found me?” he asked all shy like. “I think that they would turn red at first and then laugh their asses off once they got over the initial shock. Most of my friends enjoy the bondage thing, so I would consider them more enlightened than some other people might.” I replied. Besides I thought, depending on how he wants to get tied up, and it was usually naked, this could turn out to be a lot of fun for all of us. “Ok” he said, “I think that I can handle if some of your friends think that I am a little weird.” “They already know that!” I laughed. “So where do you want to hide in this spacious condo?” I asked. “Well I thought that I might hide in the garbage since we don’t have any other suitably large enough hiding spots.” I laughed as I looked over at the small white kitchen garbage can we had and said, “Sorry honey, but I don’t think that your going to fit in there” “Actually, I have thought about that.” he said as he walked over to the kitchen sink. He bent down and opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a box of garbage bags. I laughed, “You’ve been thinking about this for awhile haven’t you?” I quipped. “Uh-huh” he said with that smile he has. “Ok, have you thought about the fact that people suffocate in plastic bags?” I asked with some concern in my voice. He replied, “I have thought about that, so you might have your work cut out for you, but I don’t think so. If for some reason you have to tie the garbage bag closed, take both ends of the garbage bag and tie them in a granny knot. Just leave a hole in the middle like this.” he demonstrated. “I will be able to get enough air through that hole.” “How do you know?” I asked with a smile on my face. “I tried it out to make sure that it would be safe for me before I asked you.” he replied. “What if they throw dirty, stinky garbage on you?” I ask. “Part of the price to pay for the thrill of hiding.” he said. I reached over and grabbed his crouch. “And so what part of this idea got you all excited? The garbage being dumped on you or the hiding?” I asked. “A bit of both.” he replied, “Cause if they are throwing garbage on me, then that means that I am successfully hiding and they don’t even know it.” “Sex?” I asked thinking that since he has such a nice hard-on and he wants something from me, so I get to have whatever kind of sex I want tonight. The next morning he woke me up with a smile on his face and said, “Remember, I get to hide tonight!” with excitement in his face and voice. “Yea, yea” I replied still trying to wake up after a good nights sleep. “Just make sure your home before I start cooking supper, cause once I have started getting supper and the condo ready for the girls I don’t want to stop and hide you.” I stated with a stern voice. “No problem, I’ll be there with bells on,” he cheerfully replied. “No bells, they make too much noise.” I said as I laughed. I had just gotten home from work and walked into the condo to see Mike sitting there on the couch with a smile on his face. He quipped, “Look no bells on!” “Oh yea, I had forgotten about that part.” I said, “You get ready and get your stuff while I go get out of my work clothes.” He quickly walked over to all the windows and closed the drapes on all of them. Next he ran into the bedroom with me, stripped down naked almost as fast as he does when I offer sex. Then he ran out into the kitchen and opened the box of garbage bags and took one out. Next I heard the closet door open and the sound of another bag hitting the floor. I came out of the bedroom to see Mike standing there, buck naked, with a huge smile on his face next to a garbage bag full of something and holding a new garbage bag in his hand. Next he began to unfold the garbage bag, which took a lot longer than I thought because this garbage bag was huge. He saw the surprise in my face at the size of the garbage bag and stated, “These are the garbage bags they use for construction. They are thick and big to hold lots of heavy garbage.” “I don’t doubt that.” I replied, “So how do you want to do this?” I asked. He got down on the floor sitting with his knees held tight against his chest. “First, wrap me up with a layer of saran wrap,” he stated, “Then take the duct tape and wrap it around me to hold me in this fetal position.” he said. After I had done that he rolled onto his back and said, “Now take the garbage bag and slide it underneath me and then lift it up so that I am lying on the bottom of the bag with my back on the floor.” Again with some difficulty I performed the task he asked of me. “Now what?” I asked. “Well you can open that other bag of garbage and dump in on me so that if your friends look in the garbage bag all they see is garbage and not me.” he said. “Do you know that you are going to be in there a long, long time? Cause us girls have a supper and a chick flick and then whatever else comes up, going on tonight. You might be in there till tomorrow.” I stated. “What if there is so much garbage that I need to start another bag? Don’t you think that they might get suspicious if I don’t throw out the full bag?” I asked. “Well, I knew that I was going to be in here for a long time which is why I wanted to lay on my back. I have already gone to the bathroom so I can make it till tomorrow morning. And if you have to throw me out in the garbage dumpster, the garbage truck does not come till Wed. so you can come let me out tomorrow morning.” he replied. “Just remember to leave that hole so I can breath.” “Anything else?” I asked. “Nope, I think that I’m good to go.” he stated. “Ok, but first I have one more thing to add.” I said. I walked away to the bedroom leaving him there in the garbage bag all tied up. I came back with a ball gag and smiled at him down at the bottom of the garbage bag. He was a little crunched up with his head on his chest but surprisingly he actually fit in this huge bag. I rustled the bag down past his head and said, “Open wide! I don’t want any unnecessary noise coming from the garbage tonight.” ...

The Problem I don’t know how I got into this “trashcan” fetish; after all I hate the smell. I never thought of trash as anything sensual, as a matter of fact it isn’t too sensual in the least bit; it simply sits there. It doesn’t care, it festers. Trash is the total lack of emotional embrace. Trash cares not who you are - it remains unaffected by your status as a human being. In the end you are just as significant as the next piece of garbage; you bring no higher value into the trash than any other object does. ...

My fiance and I like to get into trash bags together. We have a friend that is into BDSM, so we asked him to be “the garbage man”. We got ten of the very large 75 gallon bags (yes, seventy-five gallon!) and made them into one VERY strong bag. Little did we know he was going to take it so far! It started out on Friday night a few months ago (still cold out). We got off work and went home, ate dinner and had “the garbage man” come by for a little help “gathering the trash”. He tied us up with shrink wrap, and put us into the giant bag together. Little did we know he had other plans for us! (He found out from another friend that we BOTH had the weekend plus Monday off.) After we were “settled in” he poked two small holes in our new home. He then gave us some plastic tubing to breath from. Then he called his friends over to help with some “heavy trash disposal”. This made me very hard very quick! When his friends got there, they were talking about how they were going to “dispose of us”… there were lots of great, sure fire ideas floating around, and as they talked about them we were both getting VERY *hot*. They decided not to incinerate the trash (phew!), but to just take us to where one of them worked: a yard waste recycling plant, where people put their grass clippings and other such by the curb, and it is wisked away by the same kind of truck that takes away *normal* trash. We were loaded into the back of a pickup truck and they drove off into the sunset. When we got where we were going, Marcus said to one of his cohorts, “Yo! Get this useless waste out of my truck, and put it over there by that giant wood chipper!” ...

This account is true. The names have been omitted to protect the guilty. The night before, I had made fun of a television program he was watching. This evening I was told I would be kept out of the way and punished by being laced up in the leather sleepsack instead of watching television. If I couldn’t say something nice, I wouldn’t get to watch TV at all! I was in the mood for a couple of hours of heavy bondage, so I went along with it. Little did I know how much the punishment would exceed the crime. It was about 9:30 p.m. when we went down to the cell - a small storage room off the furnace room in the cellar. I’ve installed cushioned flooring and extended it partway up the concrete walls. The door is heavy wood planks, and there’s only one small window, up by the ceiling and glazed with frosted glass. I was wearing only tight leather chaps and a leather cockring. I took the sleepsack down from its hanger and laid it out on the floor. The sack is all leather, with a leather lining and an attached hood. I was also to wear a second hood inside the sleepsack’s hood to reinforce the sense of confinement. I sat down in the spread-out sleepsack and inserted my feet into the bottom of the bag. ...

So I’ll start off by saying that I’m not just a closet bondage enthusiast. Not at all. I’m to the point where I can barely say the words “tied” and “up” even when referring to a sporting event. Believe me, if I could make my own way out, I would, and I am trying. Sometimes it’s baby steps, sometimes it’s a BIG leap. Take the time with Janine for example. I pretty much should’ve just sat her down, looked her in the eye, and said, “Janine, I am a complete raving fanatic when it comes to bondage being tied in (excuse the pun) to sex.” But, instead, it was much, much less straightforward at least in my attitude and much, much… much more intense in my actions. Let’s start with Janine. I like Janine. She’s absolutely adorable, standing at about 5’ 7” and weighing what I guess is around 120, though I would never ask. She’s got brown hair that has been dyed jet black to about her neck, contrasting nicely with her milky skin. Her bright blue eyes finish off the perfect look of a girl who could easily be Goth, but she isn’t… she’s much more practical of a girl. Cute. Happy. Not that I know much about her in bed, though. Maybe (hopefully) she’s into the whole Goth thing there. How else do you want me to put it? I’m hot for her. Not that I’ve ever acted on that in the couple years we’ve known each other. Friends, that’s what we are. Good friends. One of whom is a really hot girl that’s extremely playful. “I wouldn’t do that, Janine.” She had found a pair of handcuffs in my room, which was really careless of me and made my heart race. But, I wrote them off as a souvenir from Cancun and Spring Break. To that she laughed and clicked one of them onto her left wrist. “Wouldn’t do what?” Sigh. “I just wouldn’t do that.” She laughs. It’s such a cute little laugh! Her nose does one of those things where it scrunches up a bit and her eyes smile and she puts her wrists behind her back and I hear a “click click click click” and it’s everything I have in my to keep watching the TV and pretending that she’s not giving me THE biggest hard on of my life right now. And she walks over to the couch and sits next to me, turning her attention back to “Lost” and looks behind her back at the handcuffs. “I’ve done it this time,” she laughs a bit again and pulls on the chain that connects the cuffs like she’s gonna do anything. She knows she’s not gonna break it. That makes the situation even hotter. “Yes. You did. You did it. You want a prize?” It’s taking everything I have to feign not being interested. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done because here’s a girl doing literally the one thing that I’d give just about any body part to have her do, and I’m shucking interest because I’m afraid she’ll think I’m some sort of freak. YOU ARE A FREAK, JAY! BECAUSE ONLY A COMPLETE FREAK WOULD NOT BE JUMPING ON THIS OPPORTUNITY, DUMBASS!!! I look over to my left. She’s been looking at me and smiles, waving at me with one of her hands that are behind her back. She could be on the beach eating ice cream with that smile… so innocent. That’s what makes the situation funny. With eyes half open and half closed, I keep up the charade. “You’re obnoxious, you know that Janine?” “If bad girls get spanked, what do obnoxious girls get?” I know she’s not serious, but that doesn’t make it any less hot. “Ignored.” I turn back to the TV and fake like I’m scratching my leg. I’m not scratching my leg. Every man out there knows I’m not scratching my leg. I’m hiding what’s in my pants right now. I can almost see her overacted pouting face, and in a couple seconds I can hear the clicking of her playing with her cuffs. Looking at them. Tugging at them. Probably wondering where the release switch is. “Where’s the release switch?” Good girl. “There isn’t one.” Her eyebrows rise. Ooooh, she wasn’t expecting that, was she? “There isn’t one? What do you mean?” “I told you I wouldn’t do that when you put them on. But no. You went and put them on. And they’re not fake, they’re real. And there’s no release switch, there’s just a key.” I can tell it’s taking her a minute to digest all that. Maybe she’s a little turned on too. I mean, a lot of people are into bondage… especially people who could very easily be Goth girls in hiding during the daytime. Maybe she didn’t just slip them on out of curiosity. But if she’s faking, she’s faking very well. As am I. There’s silence for a minute while she waits for me to offer her the key before she finally says, “Can I have the key please?” Sigh. Roll the eyes. Get up off the couch and walk to my room. Pretty much as soon as she can’t see me, the grin on my face is out of this world and I feel like I could explode in my pants right then and there. I go to my room and look in the top drawer of the dresser, and there’s the key. I have it on a small chain necklace for a couple reasons. First, it’s a lot harder to lose the key by accident if it’s on a large metal loop. Second, if you don’t want to be in a serious self bondage situation for a prolonged period of time, a good way to allow quick escape is to put the handcuff key on a looped string or necklace and cuff that in one of the cuffs along with your wrist, so that the key’s always within reach of your hand. Anyway, I grab the key, take a quick breath, and head back into the living room. I come in and she’s looking right at me and she’s so cute! I want to just keep that look on her absolutely forever! And the look that she has on her face next makes priceless seem worthless. I walk right up to her and put the necklace over her head, then tighten it so that it’s almost like a choker, with the key resting right between her neck and her breasts. I smile a winner’s smile and she looks up at me with un-amused, gorgeous blue eyes and tries once to reach the key with her hands. She gets a fingertip on the key itself, but there’s no way she’s getting it off her neck. She shakes her head back and forth a couple times, but since I tightened it, the necklace is now smaller than her head and isn’t going anywhere. She looks back at me for a couple seconds while I’m holding back a laugh. “You’re hilarious. Did I ever tell you that, Jay?” “I told you not to put them on. Then I told you that you were being obnoxious. Now I give you the key, and you’re sarcastic to me. Do I deserve this?” She sighs. “Sorry. Now can you please let me out of these?” “No. You were in such a big hurry to get into them, I think you should enjoy them to their fullest. That way, you won’t be bothering me at a later date to try them on again. Let’s just get this out of the way right now.” She still looks a little on the angry side as I take two steps out of the room and open up my toolbox. Of course, my toolbox doubles as my self-bondage kit, but she doesn’t know that and doesn’t need to know that. Inside are a bunch of coils of rope and I grab a couple. I go back to her on the couch and she’s testing the cuffs again as I start looping rope around her ankles. “The hell are you doing?” “Tying your feet together.” “Why are you tying my feet together?” “I don’t know. Because you can’t?” “As I said. Absolutely hi-larious. Wanna stop?” “Not particularly.” She sighs again as I finish up cinching her feet together and I can’t imagine they’re uncomfortable, but they’re not coming apart. And she’s the one looking at me with half open eyes now as I grab another rope. I double it up and reach behind her, placing the looped end at her elbows and threading the other end through, then start wrapping them together just as I did her ankles. I’m not looking at her eyes, but I can still see them widen. “Whoa. What in the hell are you doing now?” In as innocent a voice as I can, “Hey, you’re the one that put your hands behind your back. I just don’t want your slipping them over your feet and bringing them back in front of you. Because, as I said, then you won’t get the full effect that those cuffs give and you’ll bug me with them again in the future.” “So my feet and elbows are tied because I need to get the full effect of something that cuffs my hands.” “Bingo.” “You’re an ass, Jay.” I can live with that. I finish cinching her elbows and I haven’t made them touch, though I’d like to. I mean, if she’s at all into this, I sure as hell don’t want to scare her off from it. Figure I’ll stay relatively gentle, though restraining, and if God, who indeed does exist and all of this is just proof of that, blesses me with this situation again, we can take it further. Besides, her elbows aren’t moving and her arms are now ten times more restrained and while elbows that touch are sexy, this is plenty good enough from her end of the spectrum. Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna use the ball gag or anything. Gotta save something for next time. I do reach for some gauze, a white strip of cloth (cut a T-shirt into strips going across, they make great strips of cloth for various this and that’s), and a couple other surprises. She doesn’t see any of them. “I may be an ass… but at least I’m not obnoxious.” “Uh huh… you done yet?” “Janine, I lied about what obnoxious girls get.” “What do obnoxious girls get, Jay?” I simply hold up the gauze and her half open eyes shoot wide. She could think that this is the hottest thing on the planet, but there’s a chance she’s in the same boat as me. Wanting what’s going on, but having to pretend that either you don’t want it or that it’s no big deal. For Chrissake I’ve got a really hot girl on my couch handcuffed and tied and the elbows and ankles and she’s about to get her mouth stopped up and because I’m afraid of my closet I’m acting like it’s just an innocent action between two platonic friends. But right now, I think it’s safe to say that I’m not thinking clearly because there’s not a lot of blood in my brain. “Jay, please I UHHHHH!” I’m careful not to be rough. I’m also extremely careful of her teeth. But it’s swift and quick and the gauze makes its way in. Then some more. Then a little more until her mouth is more or less stuffed. Janine’s grunts are constant and she’s trying to push it out, but one hand covers her mouth softly but firmly while the other gets the cloth. Then that goes through, threaded twice between her lips and tied in the back. There’s something so incredibly hot about tying it underneath her hair… just something about how I had to take the time to lift up her hair and tie it underneath so that she would look just perfect… Janine’s starting to talking into her gag and it’s not the most effective thing in the world. That’s when the duct tape comes into play. And if you thought her eyes were wide when I showed her the gauze, you haven’t seen anything yet. She’s turning her head from side to side and starts to actually scream a bit, but there’s absolutely nothing she can do as the tape gets laid across her lips and them goes all the way around her head, again under her hair in the back, over the cloth, and back over her lips. I lay down a good six layers: one right over her lips, one right below her nose, one right above her chin, and repeat. When I’m done her somewhat unintelligible yells have turned into grunts and mmmmmfs that make me pop a boner like no one could believe. Lucky for me, she’s not concentrating on my crotch right about now. “One more thing for that…” “Hhhhlltttmmmmmfffmmmmtt!” “Was that ‘let me out?’ Not bad, considering all the tape, Janine. That’s what this is for.” The Ace Bandage wrap goes around her head in much the same way as the tape, but anyone who’s ever worn that stuff over a gag knows exactly what it does. It stretches all the way when you pull it, and I wrap it tight, but as soon as it settles it tightens and contracts, putting constant pressure on her face. The entire roll is gone by the time I’m done and I can’t even hope to understand anything she’s trying to say anymore. That’s when I lay her on the couch. The entire time Janine’s been struggling. But I’ve been behind her and haven’t noticed much, since I’ve been concerned about her mouth. Now I can take a second and see the beauty of it all. Her arching back. Her fingers that are flailing but firm, looking for anything that could let her out. Her eyes are huge. Her lips are completely hidden. And, a personal favorite, her hair flows over her gag that I took the extra time to put under her hair. I love that part. Her eyes are so incredibly burning hot right now. Looking at me narrowly and there’s no wonder she’s mad. So far, I don’t think I’ve done anything that really screams “BONDAGE ENTHUSIAST” to her. Maybe the gag is a little severe, but it’s all household items and they all kind of make sense. In fact, the only one that’s looking like a pervert right now is Janine. Going around, putting on people’s handcuffs. What would the neighbors think? Keep telling yourself that, Jay. ...

So I’ll start off by saying that I’m not just a closet bondage enthusiast. Not at all. I’m to the point where I can barely say the words “tied” and “up” even when referring to a sporting event. Believe me, if I could make my own way out, I would, and I am trying. Sometimes it’s baby steps, sometimes it’s a BIG leap. Take the time with Janine for example. I pretty much should’ve just sat her down, looked her in the eye, and said, “Janine, I am a complete raving fanatic when it comes to bondage being tied in (excuse the pun) to sex.” But, instead, it was much, much less straightforward at least in my attitude and much, much… much more intense in my actions. Let’s start with Janine. I like Janine. She’s absolutely adorable, standing at about 5’ 7” and weighing what I guess is around 120, though I would never ask. She’s got brown hair that has been dyed jet black to about her neck, contrasting nicely with her milky skin. Her bright blue eyes finish off the perfect look of a girl who could easily be Goth, but she isn’t… she’s much more practical of a girl. Cute. Happy. Not that I know much about her in bed, though. Maybe (hopefully) she’s into the whole Goth thing there. How else do you want me to put it? I’m hot for her. Not that I’ve ever acted on that in the couple years we’ve known each other. Friends, that’s what we are. Good friends. One of whom is a really hot girl that’s extremely playful. “I wouldn’t do that, Janine.” She had found a pair of handcuffs in my room, which was really careless of me and made my heart race. But, I wrote them off as a souvenir from Cancun and Spring Break. To that she laughed and clicked one of them onto her left wrist. “Wouldn’t do what?” Sigh. “I just wouldn’t do that.” She laughs. It’s such a cute little laugh! Her nose does one of those things where it scrunches up a bit and her eyes smile and she puts her wrists behind her back and I hear a “click click click click” and it’s everything I have in my to keep watching the TV and pretending that she’s not giving me THE biggest hard on of my life right now. And she walks over to the couch and sits next to me, turning her attention back to “Lost” and looks behind her back at the handcuffs. “I’ve done it this time,” she laughs a bit again and pulls on the chain that connects the cuffs like she’s gonna do anything. She knows she’s not gonna break it. That makes the situation even hotter. “Yes. You did. You did it. You want a prize?” It’s taking everything I have to feign not being interested. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done because here’s a girl doing literally the one thing that I’d give just about any body part to have her do, and I’m shucking interest because I’m afraid she’ll think I’m some sort of freak. YOU ARE A FREAK, JAY! BECAUSE ONLY A COMPLETE FREAK WOULD NOT BE JUMPING ON THIS OPPORTUNITY, DUMBASS!!! I look over to my left. She’s been looking at me and smiles, waving at me with one of her hands that are behind her back. She could be on the beach eating ice cream with that smile… so innocent. That’s what makes the situation funny. With eyes half open and half closed, I keep up the charade. “You’re obnoxious, you know that Janine?” “If bad girls get spanked, what do obnoxious girls get?” I know she’s not serious, but that doesn’t make it any less hot. “Ignored.” I turn back to the TV and fake like I’m scratching my leg. I’m not scratching my leg. Every man out there knows I’m not scratching my leg. I’m hiding what’s in my pants right now. I can almost see her overacted pouting face, and in a couple seconds I can hear the clicking of her playing with her cuffs. Looking at them. Tugging at them. Probably wondering where the release switch is. “Where’s the release switch?” Good girl. “There isn’t one.” Her eyebrows rise. Ooooh, she wasn’t expecting that, was she? “There isn’t one? What do you mean?” “I told you I wouldn’t do that when you put them on. But no. You went and put them on. And they’re not fake, they’re real. And there’s no release switch, there’s just a key.” I can tell it’s taking her a minute to digest all that. Maybe she’s a little turned on too. I mean, a lot of people are into bondage… especially people who could very easily be Goth girls in hiding during the daytime. Maybe she didn’t just slip them on out of curiosity. But if she’s faking, she’s faking very well. As am I. There’s silence for a minute while she waits for me to offer her the key before she finally says, “Can I have the key please?” Sigh. Roll the eyes. Get up off the couch and walk to my room. Pretty much as soon as she can’t see me, the grin on my face is out of this world and I feel like I could explode in my pants right then and there. I go to my room and look in the top drawer of the dresser, and there’s the key. I have it on a small chain necklace for a couple reasons. First, it’s a lot harder to lose the key by accident if it’s on a large metal loop. Second, if you don’t want to be in a serious self bondage situation for a prolonged period of time, a good way to allow quick escape is to put the handcuff key on a looped string or necklace and cuff that in one of the cuffs along with your wrist, so that the key’s always within reach of your hand. Anyway, I grab the key, take a quick breath, and head back into the living room. I come in and she’s looking right at me and she’s so cute! I want to just keep that look on her absolutely forever! And the look that she has on her face next makes priceless seem worthless. I walk right up to her and put the necklace over her head, then tighten it so that it’s almost like a choker, with the key resting right between her neck and her breasts. I smile a winner’s smile and she looks up at me with un-amused, gorgeous blue eyes and tries once to reach the key with her hands. She gets a fingertip on the key itself, but there’s no way she’s getting it off her neck. She shakes her head back and forth a couple times, but since I tightened it, the necklace is now smaller than her head and isn’t going anywhere. She looks back at me for a couple seconds while I’m holding back a laugh. “You’re hilarious. Did I ever tell you that, Jay?” “I told you not to put them on. Then I told you that you were being obnoxious. Now I give you the key, and you’re sarcastic to me. Do I deserve this?” She sighs. “Sorry. Now can you please let me out of these?” “No. You were in such a big hurry to get into them, I think you should enjoy them to their fullest. That way, you won’t be bothering me at a later date to try them on again. Let’s just get this out of the way right now.” She still looks a little on the angry side as I take two steps out of the room and open up my toolbox. Of course, my toolbox doubles as my self-bondage kit, but she doesn’t know that and doesn’t need to know that. Inside are a bunch of coils of rope and I grab a couple. I go back to her on the couch and she’s testing the cuffs again as I start looping rope around her ankles. “The hell are you doing?” “Tying your feet together.” “Why are you tying my feet together?” “I don’t know. Because you can’t?” “As I said. Absolutely hi-larious. Wanna stop?” “Not particularly.” She sighs again as I finish up cinching her feet together and I can’t imagine they’re uncomfortable, but they’re not coming apart. And she’s the one looking at me with half open eyes now as I grab another rope. I double it up and reach behind her, placing the looped end at her elbows and threading the other end through, then start wrapping them together just as I did her ankles. I’m not looking at her eyes, but I can still see them widen. “Whoa. What in the hell are you doing now?” In as innocent a voice as I can, “Hey, you’re the one that put your hands behind your back. I just don’t want your slipping them over your feet and bringing them back in front of you. Because, as I said, then you won’t get the full effect that those cuffs give and you’ll bug me with them again in the future.” “So my feet and elbows are tied because I need to get the full effect of something that cuffs my hands.” “Bingo.” “You’re an ass, Jay.” I can live with that. I finish cinching her elbows and I haven’t made them touch, though I’d like to. I mean, if she’s at all into this, I sure as hell don’t want to scare her off from it. Figure I’ll stay relatively gentle, though restraining, and if God, who indeed does exist and all of this is just proof of that, blesses me with this situation again, we can take it further. Besides, her elbows aren’t moving and her arms are now ten times more restrained and while elbows that touch are sexy, this is plenty good enough from her end of the spectrum. Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna use the ball gag or anything. Gotta save something for next time. I do reach for some gauze, a white strip of cloth (cut a T-shirt into strips going across, they make great strips of cloth for various this and that’s), and a couple other surprises. She doesn’t see any of them. “I may be an ass… but at least I’m not obnoxious.” “Uh huh… you done yet?” “Janine, I lied about what obnoxious girls get.” “What do obnoxious girls get, Jay?” I simply hold up the gauze and her half open eyes shoot wide. She could think that this is the hottest thing on the planet, but there’s a chance she’s in the same boat as me. Wanting what’s going on, but having to pretend that either you don’t want it or that it’s no big deal. For Chrissake I’ve got a really hot girl on my couch handcuffed and tied and the elbows and ankles and she’s about to get her mouth stopped up and because I’m afraid of my closet I’m acting like it’s just an innocent action between two platonic friends. But right now, I think it’s safe to say that I’m not thinking clearly because there’s not a lot of blood in my brain. “Jay, please I UHHHHH!” I’m careful not to be rough. I’m also extremely careful of her teeth. But it’s swift and quick and the gauze makes its way in. Then some more. Then a little more until her mouth is more or less stuffed. Janine’s grunts are constant and she’s trying to push it out, but one hand covers her mouth softly but firmly while the other gets the cloth. Then that goes through, threaded twice between her lips and tied in the back. There’s something so incredibly hot about tying it underneath her hair… just something about how I had to take the time to lift up her hair and tie it underneath so that she would look just perfect… Janine’s starting to talking into her gag and it’s not the most effective thing in the world. That’s when the duct tape comes into play. And if you thought her eyes were wide when I showed her the gauze, you haven’t seen anything yet. She’s turning her head from side to side and starts to actually scream a bit, but there’s absolutely nothing she can do as the tape gets laid across her lips and them goes all the way around her head, again under her hair in the back, over the cloth, and back over her lips. I lay down a good six layers: one right over her lips, one right below her nose, one right above her chin, and repeat. When I’m done her somewhat unintelligible yells have turned into grunts and mmmmmfs that make me pop a boner like no one could believe. Lucky for me, she’s not concentrating on my crotch right about now. “One more thing for that…” “Hhhhlltttmmmmmfffmmmmtt!” “Was that ‘let me out?’ Not bad, considering all the tape, Janine. That’s what this is for.” The Ace Bandage wrap goes around her head in much the same way as the tape, but anyone who’s ever worn that stuff over a gag knows exactly what it does. It stretches all the way when you pull it, and I wrap it tight, but as soon as it settles it tightens and contracts, putting constant pressure on her face. The entire roll is gone by the time I’m done and I can’t even hope to understand anything she’s trying to say anymore. That’s when I lay her on the couch. The entire time Janine’s been struggling. But I’ve been behind her and haven’t noticed much, since I’ve been concerned about her mouth. Now I can take a second and see the beauty of it all. Her arching back. Her fingers that are flailing but firm, looking for anything that could let her out. Her eyes are huge. Her lips are completely hidden. And, a personal favorite, her hair flows over her gag that I took the extra time to put under her hair. I love that part. Her eyes are so incredibly burning hot right now. Looking at me narrowly and there’s no wonder she’s mad. So far, I don’t think I’ve done anything that really screams “BONDAGE ENTHUSIAST” to her. Maybe the gag is a little severe, but it’s all household items and they all kind of make sense. In fact, the only one that’s looking like a pervert right now is Janine. Going around, putting on people’s handcuffs. What would the neighbors think? Keep telling yourself that, Jay. ...

Harry was worried about being seen. He had spotted the massage parlour a long time ago and from “whispers” knew it was a cover for a brothel. He always thought they should be legal. Better that than having a woman raped. But now, he had not had sex for a year. He needed relief. He walked up and down the street and even went around the block. Harry took notice of all the shops along the road. Grocers, hairdressers, the massage parlour, sweetshop, chemists, and a few odds and ends of shops. ...

“Holidays from as little as £10” said the advert. Jill Smith looked at it. “It looks rubbish to me. It can’t be that good!” she said to her husband Barry. She continued, “Any holiday for £10 can’t be all that it is cracked up to be!” Barry looked at her and said “It is cheap, we can’t afford much this year. We only use it as a base and as it has a bar, for a drink at night!” ...

Jill and Tim wandered about the market in Dar -es - Salem. The sun shone down on Jill’s long blonde hair, causing reflections to sparkle where the sun hit it at the right angle. Tim was looking for some presents to take home to their families. They had been there a week and decided to get the presents over and done with. They had a week to go. “Perhaps we should get them a camel each!” Tim said laughingly looking at the rubbish that was on the stalls in front of them. Jill laughed. They kept on wandering around the market when up came an Arab. “Me, Mustapha. You want to sell golden haired lady. I give you two camels!” he said Tim was taken aback but replied “Ten camels” “Four camels” “Nine camels” “Five camels” ...

2006 Shadowplay Imaging Mummification Story Contest Entrant This is the tale of being caught out during a self bondage session. My wife, Anne, will join in my games occasionally, but not as often as I would like, and is more playful as a sub in bondage, rather than enjoying my taste for rubber and bondage. Although she is quite understanding of my self bondage sessions; while she is out at work, she likes to know when I am up to my solo pleasures. ...

Terry was pleased with himself. He had decorated the living room. New wood floor, new wallpaper, ceiling had been painted. He had lights that were turned on and off by a “zapper”. A new 40 inch LCD television on the wall. He had a brand new telephone that he had put on the coffee table. What more could he want. All he had to do now was clear up the mess. But that gave him an idea. If he was to put himself into strict bondage, with all the materials hanging around, it would look like he had been shoved into a store room and left. He thought that was brilliant idea that would add atmosphere to his bondage. There was the paste table, the ends of the wallpaper, the yardstick, the buckets of paste, and paint. A large strip of sticky backed plastic about 18 inches square was lying in the floor. He had brought several brooms into the room and left them standing against the paste table. It looked a right mess. All the furniture except the old coffee table was removed from the room. The coffee table was going to be thrown away so Terry had used it to stand on to paint the ceiling. ...

She hung there motionless, like an insect trapped in amber. She stood there in total darkness and near total silence, broken only by the faint whisper of her breathing. Unable to move even the slightest, her only sensations reduced to taste and smell and touch. As she woke from her slumber, she became aware again of the wonderful, insistent pressure all over her body, like a thousand hands caressing her. ...

Part 1 of 2 Another day, another dull routine at work. Though working at the international sex slave factory was definitely an uncommon career, it could get a little dull at times, and for poor Albert, this was one of those times. Albert was the man who supervised the shipping area of the factory. It was his task to oversee the safe packing and shipping of slaves who were to be sent to their owners all over the world. Today had seen a large shipment of mummies to be shipped off. Punching his time clock in, Albert picked up his hard hat and overalls. He picked up the clipboard and looked at the printout. Fifty hand-wrapped mummies, sixteen body bag mummies, twelve straightjackets and six mail bags. The pleasant chime sounded, and it was off to the floor. “Morning Albert!” A voice called out. “Morning Tim. Looks like we’ve got a busy day ahead!” “Yep! But looking at the lists, it looks like a fun loadout!” The workers took their places next to the conveyor belts and waited for the machinery to start up. Boxes of every shape and build were put in place, packed with shipping foam. The red warning lights lit up, the buzzers sounded, and the conveyer belts began rolling. “Okay people!” Albert called out. “Let’s stay sharp! Human cargo coming through!” The first body appeared out of the rubber flaps. It was one of the hand wrapped mummies, wrapped in dark blue bandages. Albert followed the mummy as it went down the conveyer belt, wiggling and squirming. Albert did a quick check on his clipboard. Slave number 3498B. She was to be shipped to a wealthy warlord in a Middle Eastern country, along with two straightjackets. Special notes indicated that this one used to be a lawyer. She had been captured and forced into slavery against her will. Notes indicated a feisty and unwilling temperament. Mummy slave 3498B reached the end of the conveyer belt. The workers quickly picked her up and did a quick visual inspection. No damage was present, though one of the bandages needed to be sewn back into place. As one of the workers did that, another went and clipped a collar around slave 34’s neck. The black collar was locked in place around the bandaged throat and activated. With this tracking system, the warlord would know exactly when his precious cargo was to arrive. Satisfied that slave 3498B was ready to be shipped, the workers placed her inside a coffin like box, surrounded her with shipping foam and placed the lid on. Three quick snaps of the locks, and mummy slave 3498B was ready for shipping. As her box was placed into a large shipping container, another mummy came out. Albert observed the number on the mummy’s wrappings, and checked it against his records. Ah yes, slave number 1535G. This slave was to be shipped with number 3498B to his new desert home. Special notes indicated that this was a voluntary slave, who used to be a disgruntled college student. The notes said that he had willingly submitted to being wrapped. Albert let out a smile. It was always good when all parties involved in this trade were willing and submissive. Slave 1535G was picked up, checked, collared, and placed in his box. Though his face could not be seen within his wrappings, slave 1535G’s body posture was relaxed and happy. The lid was closed, and the locks activated. Two more mummies ready for shipment. As the rest of the warlord’s order was processed, Albert walked over to the next conveyor belt. This one was processing a small order, consisting of a single slave. Slave number 56A124 was coming out of the hole, dressed in a tight white straightjacket with blue tights. Special equipment included a pair of gold colored ankle cuffs and a black leather muzzle. Notes said that this slave was a felon with a life sentence, which had been commuted to life as a slave. Looking at her gagged face, she didn’t look too happy as she was picked up off the conveyer belt and forced into her shipping box. She looked quite frightened as she was strapped down to the inside of her box and blindfolded. She let out a muffled whimper as the box lid was closed and locked. With a great shove, the box was pushed into the back of the shipping truck, which promptly drove away, taking the slave to her new master in Canada . The next conveyer belt was packaging an interesting order. A high-ranking official in the Chinese government had a fetish for American brides, and had placed an order for ten of them. And now there were ten slaves dressed as brides, their arms and legs cuffed and shackled. They were currently ungagged, but had been warned about protesting. The ten shackled brides, dresses and all, were forced into individual shipping boxes. The shipping attendants pushed the billowy dresses into the boxes, made sure the cuffs on ankles and wrists were tight, and began to shut the lids on each bride. Albert checked the order again, going over the list. “Hold it!” he called out. “Our client made a change in his order. He wants eleven brides, not ten.” “But we don’t have another bride.” A worker named Susan said. “All the other slaves are being trained, and we don’t have any to spare.” Albert paused, thinking the situation over. Wait… he had an idea. “Oh, I think we can get one more bride.” With well-practiced moves, Albert quickly walked up and slapped a pair of handcuffs around Susan’s wrists. Pressing a button around his belt, three guards walked over. “Susan, you are under arrest. You have been chosen to be converted into a lifetime slave.” Ignoring Susan’s shocked face, he turned to the guards. “Take her to the dressing department, tell them that we need another bride.” The guards nodded and began dragging Susan off the floor. Company policy does work sometimes, Albert mused. If you’ve got a troublesome employee, or need a slave quickly, go ahead and arrest one of them. After all, we can always cover it up. That was one of the perks of working with the largest slave company in the world. If it had managed to keep its operations secret for over a hundred years, then it could do anything. Fifteen minutes later, Susan was marched back into the shipping room, dressed in a silk bride’s dress. A new shipping crate had been prepared for her. “Albert!” She cursed as the guards forced her towards the crate. “You can’t do this!” Pulling out a pair of turn of the century shackles, Albert walked up to her. “Oh, you know fully well I can.” With the guards holding her arms still, Albert put a transportation belt around Susan’s waist, then threaded the handcuffs through the large O ring. “Besides.” He said as he locked the cuffs around Susan’s silk gloves. “I hear that Chinese food is really tasty. You might get extra for being a slave for life.” She spat on him as he finished applying the locks. “Now now, don’t make me gag you. I’ve read that having a ball gag in your mouth for a trip to China can make you very sore.” Susan gave him the meanest glare she could. “Damn you.” She cursed as she was forced into her shipping box. “Damn you.” He gave a final check to make sure her shackles were nice and tight. Satisfied that she wouldn’t be able to move her wrists from her waist, he closed the box lid and locked it. The crates filled with bound brides were loaded onto a shipping truck, and were soon heading down the road towards the airport. “Have fun in China .” Albert giggled as he watched the truck, along with his ex-coworker, vanish around a curve. Three hours passed, and forty slaves were packaged and shipped. The work was tiring, with Albert constantly jogging back and forth to insure that each slave was carefully packaged and shipped. Though every slave, willing or unwilling, was forced to wear restraints, a few accidents occasionally happened on the floor. Only one such incident today, with a wetsuited male managing to undo his handcuffs. He managed to knock over three employees and was strangling another before being subdued. Ten minutes later, he was straightjacketed, cuffed and mummified. His squirming form was forced into his shipping box and locked in just as the break whistle was activated. Easing into his chair in the cafeteria, Albert breathed deeply, enjoying the feel of his tired muscles unwinding. As a chained slave brought over some drinks, Albert and Tim caught up on the latest family and company activities. “So,” Albert began. “Who all did we loose this week?” “Billy, Harrison, and Ang all got shipped off to Malaysia last Monday.” “How did they go?” “Catsuited, then mummified in red horse bandages.” Albert nodded. “Nice. Sounds like fun. Anybody else?” “Well, Lisa was straightjacketed yesterday and was shipped off, new property of a lucky businessman from Los Angeles .” There was a loud muffled scream from the other side of the room. The two looked over and watched as a green plastic mummy was carried down a hallway, its ponytail sticking out of its head. “Well, there goes Anna.” Tim observed. “I warned her not to complain about the long hours. I wonder where’s she going.” “Five bucks says the UK.” “Okay, you’re on.” The two quieted down as they sipped their drinks. Tim wondered what movie he was going to watch at home tonight. Albert wondered how long it would be before he was arrested and turned into a slave. It was pretty much inevitable that every employee of slave international would one day be forced into slavery themselves. If you stayed on longer, you would be sold to a nice master. Rank and experience had its privileges. Albert had been there for about twenty years, shipping, carting, and supervising human goods all over the world. Nobody had lasted more then twenty one years. His time would no doubt come. He hoped that he would have a nice master, one who was kind to him. As he had no immediate family, he was looking forward to his inevitable adventure. The whistle sounded, and it was time to go back to work. The straightjackets were next. All of these slaves were willing volunteers, homeless men and women who had volunteered for a new kind of life where all their needs would be taken care of. The crates they would be traveling in were late, so the eleven remaining straightjacketed slaves quietly talked to themselves. Albert went up and inspected each one, making sure their clothing and their restrictive jacket were on nice and tight. “Excuse me.” Slave 895H asked. “But my jacket is a little loose. Could you tighten it a bit?” “Of course.” Albert took the lady’s sleeves and tightened them, buckling down the straps and belts. “Tight enough?” “Oh yes, very comfy. Thank you.” At that point, the crates arrived, ready for their occupants. Albert reviewed his clipboard. “It seems that you’re going to have your mouth taped shut.” Albert told slave 895H. “Oh goody! I was hoping my mouth would be taped shut. I just love the feeling!” Albert smiled as he pulled out the green tape. Slave 895H closed her mouth and smiled as Albert wound it around her mouth. After three wraps, he was sure it was closed tightly enough. “Now you have a good life, okay?” Slave 895H nodded enthusiastically as she was picked up and placed in her crate. As the straightjacketed slaves were packed up and shipped, Albert looked at his list, and at the clock. The end of the day was fast approaching. His shift would end soon, and it would be back to the dingy apartment, where it would be a lonely dinner for one… Two mail bags came down, each securely holding a catsuited slave. They were simple to ship. Simply plop them into the back of the truck and away they went. At last, the last orders of the day were about to be processed. The sixteen body bag mummies. Albert began checking off the remaining forms when he heard them behind him. “Albert Allen?” “Yes?” There was the clink of metal. “I’m afraid we’re body bag mummy short. You’ve just been drafted.” Albert let out a small smile and put his clipboard down on the edge of the conveyer. The guards were very gentle as they locked the handcuffs around his wrists. Albert noticed how this was the end of his old existence. He was on his way to a new life, a new adventure. Fifteen minutes later, Albert was in the mummy room, a section of the factory where slaves were mummified for those who had a mummy fetish. He had already made the decision to cooperate with his ex-employers, now his captors. He had cooperated when they shaved his body down and told him to get into the spandex body suit, and now he stood in the mummy room, awaiting further instructions. Three attendants brought out a large black human sized bag. Albert grinned as he recognized it. It was one of the special models, a mix of neoprene, spandex, and latex. Very tight and very soft. He had never had the pleasure of trying one on before. “We are going to put you in this bag.” One of the attendants said. “We will then wrap you up in bandages to secure you.” Albert nodded. “Well then, why don’t we start?” The attendants looked a bit shocked. “You are aware of what’s going on aren’t you?” One of them asked. “Oh yeah, I knew this would happen eventually. But I’m looking forward. I hope though, that my new owner and master is nice.” As the attendants gently moved him towards the bag, they smiled. “Oh don’t worry, I think you’ll like her.” The bag was held up, the back unzipped and waiting for an occupant to enter. Albert happily put his legs into the bag and worked them into the leg sleeves at the bottom. The soft material felt good against his second skin, warm and comfy. Standing in the bag, Albert then felt around for the internal arm sleeves. This was the biggie. Once he put his arms in those sleeves and the back was zipped up, he would be completely helpless and at the mercy of his captors. He didn’t hesitate. He found the sleeves and slid his arms in, relishing the soft, tight feeling. In a way, it felt like he was putting on a tight pair of gloves. When his arms were fully in, the attendants went to work. They adjusted the mummy bag slightly to ensure a tight fit, then they began to pull the heavy duty zipper up. Albert did nothing but shiver slightly from excitement as the zipper was pulled up, and the bag tightened around him. When the zipper was fully up, the attendants slipped a small lock on, ensuring that it wouldn’t come undone by mistake. Now locked into the bag, the attendants gently lay the new slave down on a table. Albert felt very relaxed as he went still in his new body bag. Large black belts were pulled out and applied around his body. They were pulled through straps around his ankles, knees, waist, elbows, and chest. The tightness was delicious to Albert, feeling another restraint being applied to him. Now that he was secured inside his bag, the attendants began the process of wrapping Albert in a layer of tight, elastic bandages. Well trained by years of experience, they quickly wound the elastic bandages around Albert and his tight bag. Albert could do nothing, now that he was locked into his bags. The internal sleeves forced him to keep his arms still and in place. He discovered, much to his dismay, that he couldn’t reach and pleasure himself. The internal sleeves denied him a pleasure he had always enjoyed. In five minutes, the bandages were wrapped super tight up to his waist. It was wonderfully tight, but not to the point of excess. The new slave felt very warm and safe as his new cocoon began to wind its way up his body. A few minutes later, the bandages had reached his shoulders. Curiously, the attendants stopped. One of them walked into Albert’s field of vision. “Your new owner has specifically requested for you to travel blindfolded.” Albert smiled. “Well, it lets me guess where I’m going!” “She also ordered for you to be gagged.” “Yes!” Albert thought. “I just love those gags!” Opening his mouth wide, Albert happily accepted the ruby red gag that was pushed into his mouth. Unlike normal ball gags, this gag was specially designed for long term wear. Albert giggled as he tasted the plastic over his tongue. The attendant smiled and produced a hood constructed of the same materials as the body bag. She slowly reached over and placed it on the top of Albert’s head. The hood was pulled over Albert’s head. He watched with great interest as the material was pulled over his eyes, then over his head and down until it completely covered his head and his throat. Albert could still see out of the eyeholes. But the attendants had a surprise for him. Albert watched as they pulled out a blindfold, then slowly began to cover his eyes, thus blinding him until his master decided to let him see again. The last thing he saw was the attendant’s smiling face. With Albert now blindfolded, the attendants had one last surprise for their slave. They pulled out a black leather collar and fastened it around Albert’s neck. The posture collar quickly forced Albert into keeping his neck and head straight. The buckles and straps were set, and the collar was locked onto his neck. It was almost over. The attendants resumed the slave’s mummification, winding the thick bandages over his neck, and then around his head. With one layer completed, Albert was no longer a free man. He was now a mummified slave, completely at the mercy of his new masters. The attendants did one more layer of the stretchy bandages, just to make sure he was securely wrapped and restrained. Thirty minutes later, the second layer was complete. There was one last step to do. The chief attendant leaned over Albert’s head. “Your name is no longer Albert. For the rest of your life, you will now be known as slave 7538Y.” Slave 7538Y wiggled with pleasure inside his thick cocoon. He was picked up and carried over to the conveyer belt in the back of the room. The slave was placed onto it, and was swiftly carried away and out of sight. The attendants sighed. Another job well done. Another mummy off to his master. They turned to leave, ready to go home. Instead, they found a locked door and six new attendants, each carrying rolls of bandages. “It’s time for your… retirement.” One of the guards said. Slave 7538Y took the trip that he had sent so many others on. He was carried down the conveyer belt, quietly waiting for his fate. He was received by the employees at the floor. They knew who was inside this cocoon of restraints and were extra gentle as they placed him inside his shipping crate. The new floor supervisor double-checked the details of slave 7538Y’s trip. Confirming that everything was in order, the supervisor nodded. The lid was placed on and locked. The crate was pushed, along with fifteen other crates, onto a shipping truck. They were piled one on top of another until they were all inside. With the crates secured, the truck drove off into the night, carrying sixteen slaves off to a new life. Slave 7538Y was quiet inside his crate. He listened to the sounds of travel, but he was growing sleepy. He felt so safe, so secure inside his own private crate. He had nothing to worry about. All of his troubles, all of his fears were behind him. A new life awaited him. All he had to do was lie back and enjoy the ride. Unable to move, unable to escape even if he wanted to, slave 7538Y drifted off into the warm, safe arms of sleep. ...

Another day, another dull routine at work. Though working at the international sex slave factory was definitely an uncommon career, it could get a little dull at times, and for poor Albert, this was one of those times. Albert was the man who supervised the shipping area of the factory. It was his task to oversee the safe packing and shipping of slaves who were to be sent to their owners all over the world. ...

continued from part one Part 2 Inga never expected to have her package delivered so quickly. Less then three days after placing the order for a slave, and it arrived at her doorstop. It was a very pleasant moment. She had been on her leather sofa, wondering where her slave was going to sleep. There was the upstairs bedroom, but it might be difficult to get him up there… Maybe the basement. It would certainly be more efficient for her, but her poor slave would be all alone… As she contemplated this problem, the doorbell chimed, announcing the arrival of the mailman. Inga wondered what awaited her. Bills no doubt. Lots of junk mail. Maybe a catalogue or two. When she opened the oak door, she didn’t see any of those. Instead, she saw a gigantic box sitting on her doorstep. There were air holes cut into the side of the box. It was roughly seven feet long. There was a large label on the top of the box, which bared the letters “ISF”. Inga let out a squeal of joy. Had it really arrived so quickly?! She hardly dared to hope. The mailman helped her bring it inside the house, where it was placed in the living room. The mailman asked what was making her so excited, and was quite curious when he learned that it was a new pet. Inga breathed a sigh of relief as he left. She couldn’t wait to open the box and see her new pet. She almost pulled a muscle as she frantically pried open the box to reveal the packing peanuts inside, still covering the crates precious cargo. There was a small booklet inside the box. Picking it up, Inga began to read it. “Dear owner: Thank you for purchasing your slave from us. Each and every slave we sell comes with our seal of quality. Should your slave ever need replacing, simply let us know and we’ll help you as fast as we can.” “Yes, yes, get on with it.” Inga thought. “Your slave should serve you well. Through our years of research, we have found that treating your slave with affection and kindness is the fastest way to earn your slave’s loyalty. Of course, you are free to treat your slave any way you wish!” Inga chuckled. She didn’t have any intention of mistreating this slave. Too impatient to read the warranty, she tossed the booklet onto the floor and began to scrape away the peanuts covering her new friend. She gasped. There he was. Exactly as she had ordered. Firm body, good length and build. The tight bandages wrapped around the body, compressing and containing him. And beneath that layer was that oh so sexy body bag she longed to see, and beneath that lay that wonderfully tight spandex body suit. And beneath that layer was her new, precious slave. She couldn’t hold it back anymore. She let out a squeal of delight, hopped into the crate and scooped the mummified slave into her arms. She hugged him close to her chest, stroking his bandaged head. “Hello there!” She cooed. “I’m your new mistress!” Her slave didn’t move, but then again, she had placed an order for very tight restraints. “Well, lets get you out of this cramped box!” At first glance the idea seemed ridiculous. Here was a Swedish lady, and here was a big, well built man. But affection and love can give strength, which easily enabled Inga to lift him out of the box and place him on the floor. “Whew!” She said, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “You’re heavy! Did you work out before you were all wrapped up?” Again, her slave made no indication that he heard. But then again, his restraints were doing their job wonderfully. It was then that Inga noticed a small sheet of paper in the crate her slave had been shipped in. Picking it up, she looked at the numbers and letters written on it. “Your slave’s identification number is 7538Y.” “Well seventy five.” She said seductively. “I think that’s a fine name for a handsome slave like you. Now, why don’t we get you somewhere more comfortable?” It took another twenty minutes, but Inga managed to move 7538Y onto her fine leather couch. She placed several pillows under his head, just to be sure that he was comfortable. “Comfy?” She asked. No response. A thought entered Inga’s head. It was a slightly grim thought, but one that needed to be addressed. She quickly looked at her slave’s chest and watched closely. To her relief, it did move up and down slightly, indicating that yes indeed, her slave was alive. But was he awake? There was one way she could find out. She leaned over his head. “If you can hear me, stop breathing for a moment.” She watched his chest. To her delight, the up and down movement stopped. “Okay, you can breathe again.” The up and down movement started up again. “I bet you’re wondering when I’m going to let you out?” She giggled. “Well, I think I’ll take my time. I want to get to know you, get an idea of what you’re like. And besides, I like hugging my teddy bears.” And that was what she did. Inga reached over and took this big, mummified man into her arms. She held him close to her chest, squeezing and stroking his bandaged body, loving every second of it. Here was a man that she could count on to be with her for the rest of her life, to listen to her even if he didn’t want to, to be with her even if he didn’t want to, to be held, even in the unlikely event that he didn’t want to. 7538Y didn’t give any sign or indication of what he was feeling then, buried deep beneath layers of restraints. Inga hoped he could feel her devotion to him. She had only known him for less then an hour, but already she felt instantly attached to him. She could unwrap him right then and there… or she could increase the pleasure. Let him stay in there for a day or two. Inga grinned. Yes… that was what she would do. Dinner that night was an interesting affair. The Swedish woman managed to move her slave into the dinning room, where he was propped up on a chair and tied down in place by large Velcro straps. Inga savored her soup, letting its warmth soothe her stomach. She looked over at 7538Y. She wondered what he was thinking. He was probably hungry. Maybe a little thirsty. His still form did not show any of his buried and restrained emotions. “Are you hungry my slave?” Inga asked. No answer. “Well, why don’t we give you some food tomorrow?” No answer. Finishing her soup, Inga looked at her slave while pondering where to keep him for the night. The basement was too cold, the main floor was a bit cool… but the upstairs bedroom was just right. An hour later, 7538Y was in the master bedroom, lying down on a guest bed. Inga was lying in the master bed, looking lovingly at her slave. “Well,” she began. “I think tomorrow, I’ll start unwrapping you to see that lovely bag you’re in. Is it comfy?” 7538Y gave no response. Inga smiled and turned off the light. “I’ll take that as a yes.” ** Sleep was utterly blissful. After all, Inga had a nice teddy bear to squeeze when she woke up. And she took full advantage of that. 7538Y was squeezed for about half an hour after Inga woke up. She didn’t feel like getting out of bed just yet. Lying here, holding her slave in her arms, was much more satisfying. But she had to get up eventually. She slowly stretched her limbs, welcoming the blood flowing through them. “Good morning slave!” She said as she got out of bed and walked over to the curtains. With a quick flick, they opened, letting the warm sun shine in. “Let’s have some breakfast.” Inga said. Taking a small knife from a chest, she walked over to her slave. Though it saddened her to cut away these wonderful looking bandages, she knew it had to happen eventually. Besides, she would get a big reward for giving up the white beauty that bound her beloved. A small square was cut away from 7538Y’s crotch area. It took a little bit longer then expected, but Inga squealed when she saw it. The zipper was in the right spot, just above her slave’s groin. This little feature had cost extra, but was worth every penny. “Oh googely bear!” She giggled as she rubbed 7538Y’s crotch. “I think it’s time for you to feed me breakfast!” 7538Y made his first movement since arriving at his new home. He managed to quiver slightly with excitement. The sensuous rubbing had the desired effect. A bulge quickly took shape that began to grow into a mountain. The zipper in the bag was opened, revealing the spandex skin beneath it, covering the still-growing mountain. The zipper on that was opened as well, and the giant tree sprung forth. Inga decided to make it hard and fast. She grabbed the giant, meaty tower of flesh and began to suck on it, rubbing her tongue over its peak. 7538Y began to tremble and shake. Inga smiled as she sucked and rubbed, bringing her lovely slave closer and closer to serving breakfast. Just as he was about to explode, Inga stopped. She withdrew her mouth, and watched as the giant tower of erect flesh trembled and shook, desperately searching for the warm caress it had felt only moments ago. 7538Y managed his first sound since his arrival. A small moan escaped from his head. Staying silent to heighten the suspense, Inga waited until the tower began to collapse. Just when it was all the way down, she grabbed it, wrapped her tongue around it, and began rubbing again. The tower sprang back to life, filling her mouth with delicious, meaty flesh. She sucked and stroked, savoring her slave’s flavor. Ohh, it was so delicious to eat him… 7538Y was starting to buckle in his restraints, trying to move. The bag and the belts held him in place easily, keeping his movements in check, allowing Inga to continue her work. Finally, she could hold it back no longer. She went hard, and she went fast, rubbing and sucking as hard as she could. 7538Y responded by exploding, his body quaking and buckling uncontrollably as he gave his master the tastiest, most juicy breakfast she could ever recall having. “Oh my!” She gasped as she swallowed. “You’re good!” With that, she collapsed on the bed, covering her slave with her body. Feeling deeply relaxed, so very relaxed, she wound her arms and her legs around her slave’s still wrapped body, giving him a full body embrace. She squeezed him tightly, giving him the most passionate hug she could manage. “I think.” Inga sighed. “That this is going to be a nice relationship.” Seemingly in agreement, 7538Y wiggled slightly under his master’s hug. The next two days were a blur for Inga. She made the decision early on to spread out the pleasure of unwrapping her slave. So she slowly removed his restraints, little by little. She unwound the bandages from his legs, then his thighs and waist, then his chest. On the third day of 7538Y’s stay, Inga removed the last of the bandages, and fully uncovered her slave’s body. He was still bound in his body bag and belts, but now his form was revealed in the shiny and sexy bag he was locked in. “Oh sugar booger,” Inga cooed. “You look so sexy in that! I could let you out… but what’s the fun in that?” 7538Y wiggled slightly, whether from pleasure or not, Inga couldn’t tell. “Tell you what.” Inga said. “Why don’t I take you outside, and show you your new home? Would you like that?” 7538Y wiggled again. This time, it was definitely in pleasure. The sun was shining as Inga moved her slave out of her house and onto the patio. She had to get this just right, to make a great first impression. Pull this off, and her slave would never want to leave this wonderful place. It was a slight struggle to move 7538Y onto the swinging bench, but seeing his bluish form spread out on the bench made him look oh so helpless, so innocent and dependent on her for his care. She sat down next to him, placing her arm around his shoulder. A slight push, and the bench began to sway back and forth. “Well,” she began. “You ready to see your new home? I think you’ll like it!” 7538Y tried to nod his head, but the posture collar forced him to keep his head up. Inga laughed. “Oh, is that little collar annoying? Well, I think the black, sensuous leather looks so good wrapped around your neck. Besides, it’ll be a great place to put my leash!” Though 7538Y gave the impression of wanting to see his new home, Inga decided to make him wait just a little bit. He was still sealed into his own little world. Let him stay in there a little bit longer. She squeezed his shoulders tightly, but lovingly. “Isn’t it amazing?” Inga thought to herself as the bench swayed slightly. “I’ve never seen this man’s face, I’ve never heard him speak, I’ve never felt his arms around me, yet I love him!” The two sat there on the bench for a while. One, because she wanted too. The other…well, he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Finally, Inga could wait no longer. She reached over towards her slave’s hood. Moving carefully, she began to undo the zippers over the eyes. Each “Rrriippp” was so delicious to listen to. She was opening up her slave! The two zippers were undone. Inga looked at her slave’s face closely. Underneath the hood was the blindfold that had been placed over 7538Y’s eyes. Underneath that blindfold were her slave’s eyes. It would be the first part of him she would really see. Very slowly, she reached inside the hood and moved the blindfold with her fingers. 7538Y didn’t move, keeping perfectly still. A few slips, and then it was done. The blindfold was off. And Inga looked into the eyes of her slave. They were calm, content eyes, a deep green in color. They blinked at the newfound light that flooded upon them. But they adjusted, and then focused on Inga. 7538Y could not speak, but his eyes told Inga everything she would want to know. His eyes told her that he was fine. His eyes told her that he was curious about her, and that he was very curious about his surroundings. But overall, his eyes were beautiful. “Well, hello there!” Inga said. “Welcome to your new home!” And she stepped aside, giving 7538Y his first look at his home. They were in a great valley, surrounded on all sides by snow capped mountains. There was a giant lake in the center of the valley. Forests full of trees filled the valley like grass. The two were at Inga’s two-story log cabin, far out from civilization. Up above, the sun shone down through the clouds, illuminating the mountains and valley with a soft, warm, and comforting glow. “Do you like it?” Inga asked curiously. 7538Y nodded his head as best he could, his eyes full of delight. “Then let’s take you out for a little ride!” The little ride that Inga talked about was a ride on a large floating platform that drifted lazily across the lake. The surface of the platform was covered in soft blue carpeting. Inga and 7538Y lay on the platform, letting the current take them where it willed. It was a lazy Sunday cruise. No destination in mind, no worries or cares to trouble the two. Inga was nude, lying spread eagle on the carpet. 7538Y lay still in his body bag, unable to move. They stayed like this for an hour or two, relaxing in the Swedish mountains. Time ceased to be. After working up the strength, Inga rolled onto her side and looked at her slave, her eyes drowsy. “You know 7538Y? There’s so much I don’t know about you. I don’t know where you came from, or what you used to do. I don’t know if you had a family, or if you had a goal in life.” She slowly snaked her way up to him, his eyes looking at her curiously. “And though I’ve only known you for four days, it seems like it’s been a lifetime.” She reached him and got on top of him, straddling him like he was a saddle. Inga leaned over and slowly nuzzled 7538Y affectionately on the nose. As 7538Y’s eyes closed in pleasure, Inga slowly reached down and began to take off the hood, revealing the skin beneath. 7538Y didn’t even notice as his head covering was taken off. And when it was off, Inga looked into the face of her beloved slave. It was a handsome face, still young, not past fifty. His skin, though damp and wrinkled from the bondage, was smooth and shaved. He was the embodiment of handsome (which, unknown to Inga, was the reason ISC hired him. Clients always liked handsome slaves). His ballgag was still in place. Though she could be a little cruel if she wanted too, he had worn the gag long enough. Undoing the tight straps that held it in place she took it out. 7538Y sputtered and croaked, trying to flex muscles that had been stiff and unused for days. “Are you okay?” Inga asked. Her slave stopped and looked up at her, his black hair flowing. “Why yes, thank you master.” He said in his soothing voice. He looked around. “Would you please tell me where I am?” “Your new home is Sweden !” Inga said. “Really? Oh my, that’s a nice choice. And if I may say so, you speak English very well mistress.” Inga blushed. “Aww…it’s nothing really.” 7538Y nodded, then looked down at his bound form. “Uhm…” He began. “Are you… going to let me out anytime soon? I like being mummified and all, but it would be nice to exercise. But of course, it’s your decision mistress. I’ll stay in here if you want me to.” Inga smiled and gently began to stroke his wonderfully smooth second skin. “Oh don’t worry slave.” She cooed. “You’ll be out soon. But you’ll have to be in cuffs!” “I don’t mind.” 7538Y said. “But out of curiosity… well, I never expected my mistress to be…uhm…” 7538Y’s mistress laughed. “Yes, I know. It’s not everyday that your master is sixty years old.” 7538Y smiled. “But you still look so beautiful.” Inga leaned in close and gave 7538Y a soft kiss. Surprised, 7538Y kissed her back. “What’s your name?” Inga asked quietly. “My former name does not matter, the same with who I was, and where I came from.” 7538Y said. Inga kissed him again, rubbing his bound body with hers. “What is important…” 7538Y said gently between two kisses. “…Is that I’m with you now mistress. I’m yours for life.” The mountain began to rise again. “Oh slave.” Inga cooed as she kissed and hugged him. “I love you.” She rubbed his smooth skin over and over. “I love you!” 7538Y kissed his master, deep and passionately. He had loved it these past days. Being loved, being held, being kissed. He loved his master. She had treated him with kindness and love, and he desired to return the favor hundredfold. “And I love you my mistress!” He said. The mountain was at its peak. Barely taking her arms off 7538Y, Inga undid the zipper and let the mountain come out. The valley and the mountains echoed with shrieks of sheer, unmatched pleasure, from both mistress and slave. The plateau was reached, and the downhill slope began. Slave and master exchanged no words. They were asleep. 7538Y in his mistress’s arms, master holding her beloved slave tightly to her. As the sun began to set, the floating platform drifted lazily across the lake, Mistress and slave beginning a new life together of sex, play, and most important, love. Deep in his dreams, 7538Y dreamed of walking up to his employers to thank them for a wonderful retirement. The smiled and said it was no problem. 7538Y smiled and thanked them, just before he was wrapped up and packaged, ready to be shipped off again. The platform continued to drift, carrying it’s passengers into a new realm of love and compassion. 7538Y awoke for a moment. He looked around, trying to remember where he was. Then he found his mistress holding him with her body. Ah yes… As he drifted off again into dreams, 7538Y had one last thought. “What a great retirement…”

She met me at the door of her apartment. Dressed in leather pants and a leather top with black leather riding boots, she looked down on me with contempt in her eyes. “Enter,” she told me. I followed her to the back room. She sat on her ottoman and ordered me to strip. After several verbal assaults on my body, she told me to kneel in front of her and lick her boots. After several minutes of boot licking, she rose and commanded me to remain on the floor. She returned wearing a 10 inch black dildo strapped to her waist. I gasped and starred at the massive phallus. Sensing the terror in my eyes she laughed and said, “You’ll take every inch of it.” ...

I had been in the city on business and decide that I would my friend Elke on my way home. I drove over to her place and rang the door bell. It opens and I get a vision of beauty as Elke stands in the doorway and asks me inside. Elke is wearing a long white nylon smock and explains to me that she is clearing up and straightening her wardrobes. I followed her inside and she leads me to her bedroom where I also found her friend Yasmin squatting beside the wardrobe. She too was dressed in a long nylon smock and they both welcomed me to join them with friendly smile on their fair faces. ...

Chapter Four: Stranger in the Night All the rooms were dark as they moved through the hallway towards my bedroom, their footsteps making little noise as they continued to approach the very room where I lay bound and enclosed in my self-involvement, too engrossed to hear any noise other than the small groans behind my gag that I was making as the pleasure within me intensified. The door crept open slowly, but my head was turned the other way, even so, my eyes were tightly closed and I wouldn’t have seen the opening of the door. They came into the room and were greeted by the sight of a black-clad figure of a woman tightly tied and thoroughly enjoying herself, moving around on her bed, her hips gyrating and her bottom moving deliciously within the latex, a lovely sight to see, intoxicating and inviting. ...

This is how it felt to be Ian. ** You were in the prime of life, as fit and trim as you were ever going to be. All of life was open to you, its riches and abundance yours for the taking. Yet life was empty. Yes, you had a college degree. You had a nice apartment in the suburbs, a steady job, and a nice little world all to yourself. Yet… you felt empty. What was the point of life and its riches if you had nobody to share it with? Then, in your mid-twenties, you were searching for a mate, a wife, a friend, to share it all with. But nobody came. Nobody was Mrs. Right. Night after night, you went to clubs, bars, restaurants, in hopes of finding the right person for you. But nobody ever came. Nobody came your way. “Why can’t I find anyone?” You wondered. “Why will nobody come forward, accept my offer of a drink, and say I’m cute?” Dejected, you always went back to your apartment, crushed and with your hope gone just a little bit more. A year went by, and still nobody came. Your books, your games, and your movies were your only companions at home. But they were poor substitutes for the warm flesh of a living person. Then… she came. It was quite unexpected. You were in the local steak house, slowly sipping a glass of root beer. A woman walked up and asked if she could sit next to you. Without looking up, you said yes. Something, that little feeling in your chest, told you to look at her. And you did. She was perfect. She was not a professional model, nor was her body one that other women were envious of. Yet… she was perfect, just as she was. It was as if the two of you were linked to each other. You could tell that she sensed it too. When she looked at you, looked into your eyes, she was looking into your very soul. You offered her a sip of your root beer. She accepted. And both of you smiled. The next six months were a blur that passed you by in a wave of peace and happiness. This woman had a wonderful power. When she was near you, you felt up, oh so up and so happy. She could wash away your fears, your terrors, your worries, simply by standing next to you. And she told you how you did the same to her. How you were a source of magic and wonder to her, how your presence was a soothing balm to her soul. You were convinced that the two of you were soul mates. It was as if when you met, you said “Oh, there you are. Where have you been?” There were occasional problems of course. There were some arguments, some disagreements. But both of you stuck it out. You hung in there, refusing to give up. And the two of you overcame every problem that came your way. Finally, a year after the two of you met, you decided to be married. The families on both sides were overjoyed at the idea. “You two are so right for each other!” They said. Both of you smiled. You didn’t need to be told that. The wedding was a small, simple affair. No need for a huge guest list, no need for a gigantic church. For the fun of it, both of you and the families drove out to Vegas and were married by an Elvis impersonator. The two of you shared a kiss upon the words “You may now kiss the bride.” Though the families and guests stood and clapped, and though the band of Elvis impersonators burst into song, both of you didn’t hear it. You were bound together in that timeless, magical moment, for when your lips met, everything was absolutely perfect, without flaw, without imperfection. For one brief moment, the two of you were one. For the honeymoon, the two of you rented a beach house near the ocean. Next to the endless blue, the green palm trees and the warm sun, the two of you made love and passion as never before. It was here that you made a surprising discovery about your love. She was a controller. In her normal, non sexual personality she loved you enough to let you live how you want. But when she was aroused, she loved controlling you, binding you and taking care of you. You spent two days bound as a mummy while she tended to your every need, while she held and stroked you. Both of you were in heaven. Pure, loving, heaven. A month later, your fortunes hit a new high. Your loved one somehow managed to win the lottery. You were now rich. You had money beyond your wildest dreams. You could get anything you want. The two of you bought a nice, comfortable home in the suburbs. You also bought lots of sex toys, ranging from cuffs and manacles, to straightjackets and body bags. But your wife bought one item that she refused to let you see. She told you, with a devilish grin, that it was being saved for a special occasion. Though you were incredibly turned on at the statement, she still refused to let you see it. “Patience my love.” She said. “You will see it soon enough.” She made her move two years later. By that time, the two of you had everything your hearts desired. You had a house, bondage toys, and enough money to last for life. It was a calm, ordinary day when she came to you. She said she wanted to talk about an idea she had, one that would serve both of you. Putting down your book, you listened to her proposal. She had gotten the idea in her head, and she couldn’t get rid of it. You talked quietly and supportively, encouraging her to come out with what she wanted. Finally, she told you. She wanted you to become her slave. She told you how much she fantasized about keeping you restrained, how she would have to take care of you, tend to your every need, and how she would hold and caress you, how she would take care of you for the rest of your life. To her delight, you said that you loved the idea. The plans were made. Though you would be allowed to move while restrained, you would spend much of your time in a special device that your wife had purchased. But still, she refused to let you see it, keeping it in a locked box. The plans went on. You would mostly stay in the house, always kept restrained by at least a pair of hand and ankle cuffs. Whenever your wife felt like it, you would be cocooned like a mummy. The two of you agreed on the plan for your new lives. How she would be the loving and caring master, and how you would be the kind and loving slave. Of course, it was not permanent. If you wanted, either of you could stop at any time, and resume your lives. The day soon arrived, when your freedom would be gone. When you would essentially be confined to house arrest for life. There were just a few things you needed to get from your old apartment. Your wife went with you, and she helped you move the items out of the dwelling and into the car. When the last box was put in the trunk, and when everything was gone, you sighed, looking your old house over for the last time. There was the clink of metal behind your back. You turned and saw your wife holding two items in her hands. The sight of them sent shivers of excitement down your spine. She was smiling, waiting patiently for your approval. You smiled and put your wrists forward, offering them, and your freedom, to her. She went forward and gently placed the rigid cuffs onto your wrists. The silver cuffs were lined with a thin layer of leather, which felt so good as your wife worked the device into position. The cuffs felt so right, so good, as you allowed your wife to lock them down, to take away your freedom, possibly forever. When the lock was in place, and when the key was withdrawn, you looked at the restraint locked around your wrists. It was heavy, but not uncomfortably so. It kept your wrists in place, so that you could not move them out of its grip. While you pondered your restraint, your wife bent down and pulled out the leg manacles. The silver cuffs were old fashioned, with a large cuff, rather then the thin kind found in modern handcuffs. She placed the cuffs around your ankles, over your white socks. The cuffs were closed, the clasp put into place, and the keys were placed in and turned. When she stood up again, your ankles were now locked into the old fashioned restraints. And it felt so good, so right, so perfect. These restraints, these devices, were your friends. They cared for you, kept you safe by taking away your freedom of movement. You were happy to have them safely on you, and they were happy to be locked to you. Your wife, your mistress, smiled. “Come on honey slave.” She said soothingly. “Let’s take you home.” Like the good slave you were, you followed her obediently, shuffling along as fast as your friendly ankle cuffs would allow. It was night outside, so you didn’t worry about anyone seeing you. You followed your mistress to the car, where she opened the door and assisted you inside. You let her put the seat belt around you, and you watched as she started the car and drove away. And so you left your old life, and began your new one. You arrived at the house. By now you were more turned on then you ever had been in your life. You wanted nothing more then to grab your mistress and make hard and fast love to her. When she saw your face, she smiled as she realized your desires. “There will be time for that later.” She said. “Now we’ve got to get you inside where you can be tussled up.” Your excitement grew. After helping you out of the car, your mistress gently lead you to the house. You walked as fast as you could, though your ankle cuffs gently scolded you for being in a hurry. Inside the house, your wife walked you over to the living room, where she sat you down in a chair. “Wait here my love.” She said. “I’ll be back with your new outfit.” Grinning madly, you nodded your head eagerly. As she went upstairs, your mind raced. What device did she have for you? How long would you be kept in it? Finally, she entered the room carrying the package in her arms. Your eyes were bulging as she opened it, and pulled out its contents. It was a large white suit, with long sleeves and long legs. It was built out of heavy cotton, and had belts and straps sewn into the suit itself. There were mitts for the hands, and built in socks. A person zipped into the suit would only have his or her head showing. “This is your new outfit my darling.” She said. “You’ll be wearing this for the rest of your life from now on. It’s a special exo-suit that allows me to restrain you in almost any way I can think of. Now, let’s get it on you.” Eager to please her, you stood up immediately. She smiled as she came over and unlocked your cuffs, allowing them to drop to the floor. You whimpered slightly at having your friends come off you. You felt so naked and vulnerable. “Not to worry my love.” Your master said. “You will be safe again soon.” She picked out a white spandex bodysuit. “Put this on.” She said. “It will be your underlayer.” You put it on immediately, relishing in the feel of the spandex all over. After pulling the zipper up, you stand ready for your next assignment. She held up the suit, and undid the zipper in the back. Holding it up, she motioned for you to walk up and to enter it. Excited beyond words, you walked forwards towards this wonderful device that promised safety and security. You entered it slowly, putting your arms into the sleeves, and then stepping into the legs. It was a surprising fit. The suit fit like a glove. While you stood in the suit, relishing in its feel, your wife walked behind you and pulled the zipper up. When it was fully fastened, she took a small zip tie and locked the zipper shut, ensuring that you couldn’t get out even if you wanted to. You shivered again, realizing that you were sealed into this suit. “How do you feel slave?” She asked you. “Wonderful mistress.” You said in a doped up voice. “So wonderful.” The suit fit like a glove, hugging you all over. It was thick and firm, warm and snug. You felt so safe, so secure in it. Your wife made the next move. She placed your arms by your sides and began to thread the straps around them, around your body. Surprised, you nonetheless allowed your wife to continue strapping you up. The built-in straps were applied all over your body, from the neck to the ankles. When your mistress was finished, you were completely immobilized from head to toe. Your arms were strapped to your side, your legs bound together. You wiggled playfully, testing out how it felt. The feeling of being bound was wonderful. You felt so secure, so safe. You were protected. Nothing could reach you or harm you. This suit was your protector. Smiling, your wife went up and gave you a hug, squeezing you to her. You so desperately wanted to squeeze her back, but the friendly suit politely told you that you were not going to do that. The hug of the straps confirmed its message. “You look so beautiful.” She told you. “So white and beautiful.” She leaned in close and whispered into your ear, “But I have one more thing to add.” You gave an involuntary giggle of excitement. Gently laying you down on the ground, she went to the box and pulled out one more item. It was a bodybag, built of heavy duty white cotton. It too, had straps built in, so that when a person was locked inside, he or she would be further restrained and unable to escape. Your wife gently worked your bound body into the bag, gently and tenderly closing the zipper and tightening the lacing. You closed your eyes and drifted in ecstasy as the straps were applied, each strap saying “hello”, each strap greeting you with a hug. When the buckles on the straps were done, and when the thick collar was finished, your wife and master gave a sigh of satisfaction. She held up a small mirror so that you could know what you looked like. You looked so wonderful. You were sealed into a bag, held in place by straps. Your head was the only part of your body showing, the rest of it locked and sealed away under the heavy cotton. With your body now fully immobilized, your wife managed to lift you up and carry you upstairs to the bed. There she lay you on its soft surface. You relaxed and allowed your wife to put a soft and supportive pillow beneath your head, and several pillows around your body, creating a nest for the two of you. She went downstairs and locked the house for the night. You ached for her return. Though you felt safe and protected, you longed for your master to be with you. She came back, and quickly got into the small next. Taking the comforter, she wrapped herself in blankets. She snuggled next to you, taking you into her arms and hugging you to her. “You are so beautiful.” She whispered. “So precious to me.” She kissed you, giving you her love, her care and affection for you. “And I love you mistress.” You whispered back. You wiggled in sheer ecstasy inside your cocoon. The lights were turned out, and your wife held you close as she slowly drifted off to sleep. You closed your eyes and did your best to snuggle closer to her. As sleep came to you, you gave a sigh of pure relaxation and peacefulness. “This is going to be a wonderful life.” You thought. *** This is how it feels to be Ian. *** An average day for you begins with wakefulness. You open your eyes and look around. You are bound in the suit, and in the bag, as you have been for the past two years. You yawn and wait. Mistress will come along and release you soon. She appears a few minutes later. She greets you and releases you from your body bag. She rolls it off of you and undoes the straps holding your arms and to your side, allowing you to move in your exo-suit. “Well honey bum.” She says. “Today I want you to vacuum downstairs and fold the clothes from the laundry.” “Yes mistress.” You say. “I will do what you want.” “Good! But before I go, I have to retrain your arms.” You giggle with excitement. “Yes master! Please restrain me!” You eagerly hold out your arms. The beloved manacles are clasped to your cotton covered wrists. You squeal in delight as the locks are tightened and fastened, locking them in place. The process is repeated for your ankles. It feels so good, this blessed tightness. There have been blessedly few moments where you are without restraints. You are released for family events, and the occasional vacation, but thankfully you spend the rest of the time bound. One of the best times is when you are cuffed, spread-eagle, to the bed while your restrictive clothing is washed. You love those moments. Your wife loves to come in and “have fun” with you while you are helpless to stop her. You sigh, fondly remembering the last time that happened. “Slave!” Your master says cheerfully. “Remember, you have chores to do!” “Oh yes mistress. Sorry!” Your wife smiles. “That’s okay.” She leans over and gives you a big kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back this afternoon after work. You have a good day now.” You kiss her back. “Sure thing honeybun.” Smiling, she walks out of the door and off to work. You sigh happily, allowing yourself a brief moment to enjoy the tightness of the cuffs that you wear. Then duty calls. Your mistress has given you a task, and you need to complete it. Luxuriating in the warmth of the suit, the tightness of your cuffs, and the wonderful life you live, you walk off to the vacuum. This is how it feels to be Ian. Forever.

This compilation of reports were sent to my then rubber mistress. They take place during two different weekends the first in December 2003 and the second in January 2004, Martin Luther King Day weekend. They are related entries and here they are for your reading and rubbery fantasizing pleasure. Hello my rubber pets, Tonight you are to go out for dinner: You may choose your outer clothing to cover as much or as little as you wish to. ...

(story continues from Home Sweet Dumpster) continued from part one Part Two It came slowly, down the road. At first I could not make out the sound. A moment or two later, it was a car, with the exhaust broken off or something. It sounded like a stock car! It pulled in the driveway. I heard a car door opening, and the un-mistakable sound of angry feet stomping about. The stomping approached the dumpster that I was entombed in. As words of intense profanity came streaming about, I realized it was my girlfriend. She unlocked the slide door nearest to me. Through my plastic heaven, I could hear her telling me what made her so angry. ...

Cathy opened the door and saw her runaway 16 year old daughter Brianna along with a police officer. “Good morning Ms. Smith, I found your daughter.” “Where was she this time?” asked Cathy. “I saw her walking behind some warehouses and chased around back. I eventually found her hiding in a dumpster.” “Well thank you very much officer. I’m sorry this keep happening, but I can promise you this will be the last time Brianna runs away from home.” ...

Well today was a fun day. My ex girlfriend who moved away several years ago was back in town and called me up to see if I wanted to play. Of course I did. So here is one of the games we played. Jessica came over about 9:00 with a knock at my door. I was ready and waiting for her. I opened the door and invited her in. She walked in and we made small talk for about an hour or so, catching up on what we have been doing. ...

I was in my first year of university, and was having bad luck with my roommates. They either seemed to torment me or just up and leave me high and dry. I had made a friend in my psychology class. She seemed to be having the exact same problem I was, just with different people. By the end of the year, we had decided that the next year we should try to live together, after all it could not get any worse. Now most of you might be thinking, hey way to go dude, U da Mannnn…. Well she just wanted to be friends, you know…. Oh well, at least I had a roommate for the next year. ...

“It’s trash day,” she says, and I’m eager to find out what she has in mind. She sends me into the bedroom to strip, while I hear her doing something in the spare room involving rustling plastic. When I’m nude, she leads me into the kitchen, kissing me on the way there with a grin. Before I sit on the cold kitchen tile, she produces an hourglass shape of black plastic cut from a trash bag, slips it through my crotch and ties the corners off, making a set of shiny briefs. I sit down then with my knees against my chest, the thin material not blocking the cold at all, but I warm up a bit with excitement as she produces a length of rope. She slips my arms between my knees, and proceeds to tie my wrists and ankles to each other. Soon, I’m not going anywhere. ...

The car bounces down the deserted lane, it is evening, and its lights wobbly as the car slowly makes its way into the gathering gloom. A cold wind blows, and it is threatening to rain. The vehicle stops, and a man gets out. He opens the boot, and looks around. Although a lot of people do use this track, for jogging, for transit from the new estate half a mile away to the old estate, there is no one in sight tonight, the weather, which has started to spit a cold drizzle, has driven most folks indoors. ...

“Elisabeth, Elisabeth, where are you? Elisabeth…” “I’m here, Denise!” “Where, my little one?” asked with a feared tone the old maid. “Near the lake… I’m looking at the swans!” answered the clear and fresh voice of the girl. Denise moved in that direction, panting. She was over her sixty, and the tight corset, the long and voluminous skirts and some excess in the food department didn’t help her to move freely. Some trees hid the lake, a little water mirror created inside the castle garden, the leaves moving by the happy wind of the season. ...

I have been into self-bondage for most of my life. I started off as a kid using the dog lead to tie myself up. When I got married I tried to get my wife to help me. Once or twice she has done but she makes it quite clear that she does not like bondage, get nothing from it and doesn’t like me doing it. She made me promise never to wrap myself up in cling film ever again since she read about a colleague who went fatally too far. So I don’t usually do it but sometimes…..Sometimes I can’t resist. I’m hooked. It’s like an addiction. So…….. ...

Packaged Story Contest 2005 Entrant The train clanked on through dark, damp countryside towards its unattractive destination. Scattered sparsely around its seats, the passengers were largely late-night commuters, looking tired in business clothes. Joe had been unobtrusively watching the woman who sat opposite him several seats away on the dimly lit, rattling train for some time now. She was clearly tired, and hadn’t noticed him. She wore a demure yet stylish blouse and skirt, and elegant heels. As he turned the page of his newspaper and flicked another glance her way, she shifted in her seat and gave a sigh. In his mind’s eye, the sigh came filtered through a thick layer of packing material, and the slight movements of her body were against the ropes that held her tightly balled. In reality, she crossed her legs, took a sip from a bottle of water, and rested her head back against the headrest, eyes closed, oblivious of his attention. ...

Packaged Story Contest 2005 Entrant ! Oh my god. She’s here already! Is everything ready? I can’t believe this is really happening. Jerry rushed down the hallway, stepping carefully along rich brocade rugs that lay over the polished hardwood floor. Stopping in front of hallway mirror, he took a moment to collect himself, patting down a few loose hairs and tucking in an errant shirt tail. Through the lead glass window behind him he could see his green expanse of lawn (just mown this morning) sloping down gently to the shop. ...

Deadlier Than The Male by Rbbral Part One Chapter One Jo felt betrayed, for she was sure she had been, by her husband of five years, whom she had loved and whom she thought had loved her. Well, maybe he did, but going to see her neighbour and best friend down the road was a funny way of showing it. Of course she had no proof – yet. But soon she would. ...

Deadlier Than The Male by Rbbral Part Two Chapter Four Jo was content with all the clothes and gadgets on the bed, more than sufficient to dress and subdue Tom. She was beginning to enjoy herself and knew that Tom, as he had done in the videos, would do as she playing the role of Pat commanded. When she opened the door, Tom’s eyes nearly popped out as he took in this sleek black rubber apparition. He entered quickly and closed the door. She pointed at her feet and Tom knelt and crawled behind her into the bedroom. Nothing needed to be said as she pointed to the clothes and he stripped off and began to dress. ...

“Trash Day” 3:45 AM 8/19/99 It was a warm Wednesday morning, John had just woke up and Charlene was already up. He asked her what she was doing? She said, “It was time to clean this place up!” Charlene was upset from hearing John bitching about how messy the house was. Charlene left and went to the store, she had to get some things to clean the house. When she got home she found John still in bed, she told him to stay out of her way because she was going to get rid of all the garbage in the house this week. ...

More Than He Bargained For by rbbral “Madame I think I have the perfect candidate for you.” “Excellent, but you know I have very specific requirements.” “Yes of course Madame, but I think this one fits your requirements perfectly. He is young, attractive, slim, a little androgynous even. He has no ties here, he is on holiday, on his own, from England; he is not staying anywhere, no contacts, no one expecting him. He has just a backpack and a ticket to return in three weeks.” ...

Jenny had tied herself on Mikes porch to await his return and wasn’t disappointed by the results, an afternoon in bondage as his slave, but then to her delight she discovered something more… (this part inspired by the comic serial “Katya” ) continued from part two Part 3: Punished! You may recall that I’d tied myself up on Mike’s porch to await his arrival at his cabin. Mike had then left me bound until later, when he took me to his bed and bound me spread-eagled and used me for his pleasure (and mine). Later on I’d found a latex catsuit that had belonged to his ex-wife, Mike had helped me put it on, the feelings that I got when wearing latex for the first time just made me want to reward Mike, which I did on my knees, if you know what I mean! ...

You might be wondering what this is about, hehe. I decided that today I would in my roommates absence, give myself some long over due fun of a different kind. For a long while I have enjoyed the pleasure of self bondage with an air mattress, which I find both relaxing and very inescapable. I first got the idea off of Gromet’s Forum, where a chat was going on about how to go about it, and this lead me to the following… ...

continued from part one Cindy had spent many days enclosed inside the love doll, she had become more like the doll in many ways. Now she even had the box to be stored in… Part 2: Bagged! As I’ve said in my previous story about how I’d come back early from a trip to find a latex sexdoll in my boyfriends bed. I’d had the overwhelming urge to become the sexdoll, I just had to be “her”. My boyfriend had used me without realising that I’d replaced “her”, and then in the morning, I had revealed my secret. We had progressed until one weekend my partner had surprised me with a present, a box to keep his love doll in! I was in heaven and quickly found just how much I enjoyed being bound in the box and kept for his pleasure. ...

continued from part 2 Cindy had tied herslf up at home, dressed in her latex catsuit, three invaders made their presence felt in her holes, she was deep in fantasy of being used by three people at once when the climax hit and then she realsied that she was not alone… Part 3: Latex Slave I had just been kidnapped after tying myself up, dressed in my latex catsuit and plugged, gagged and bound by my own hands. Whilst in the throughs of my orgasm I had been discovered by someone who had taken advantage of my tightly bound body and used my rear from his pleasure and as it turned out mine too. He then bound me even tighter and stuffed me into a canvas gym bag, I was now just a piece of luggage not a sexy, voluptuous woman but a mere sex object. ...

Cindy had spent many days enclosed inside the love doll, she had become more like the doll in many ways. Now she even had the box to be stored in… continued from part one Part 2: Bagged! As I’ve said in my previous story about how I’d come back early from a trip to find a latex sexdoll in my boyfriends bed. I’d had the overwhelming urge to become the sexdoll, I just had to be “her”. My boyfriend had used me without realising that I’d replaced “her”, and then in the morning, I had revealed my secret. We had progressed until one weekend my partner had surprised me with a present, a box to keep his love doll in! I was in heaven and quickly found just how much I enjoyed being bound in the box and kept for his pleasure. ...

Cindy had tied herslf up at home, dressed in her latex catsuit, three invaders made their presence felt in her holes, she was deep in fantasy of being used by three people at once when the climax hit and then she realsied that she was not alone… continued from part two Part 3: Latex Slave I had just been kidnapped after tying myself up, dressed in my latex catsuit and plugged, gagged and bound by my own hands. Whilst in the throughs of my orgasm I had been discovered by someone who had taken advantage of my tightly bound body and used my rear from his pleasure and as it turned out mine too. He then bound me even tighter and stuffed me into a canvas gym bag, I was now just a piece of luggage not a sexy, voluptuous woman but a mere sex object. ...

She had a job, but the money she made from it didn’t seem worth her while. She had a place to go home to, but it wasn’t a home. It was a nearly empty room in a run-down apartment building, and that might be okay to live in, but this apartment had nothing to cheer her up. She had lost most everything she had in a fire. The police called it an accident, but she was sure her drunk parents that had done it. She wasn’t home at the time and no bodies were found. She had a “boyfriend”, but he was giving her money to keep herself off the streets, but not enough for anything else, and if she tried to get out of their relationship, she knew he would do something cruel. He was selfish, and he would probably plant drugs on her or in her car or apartment and then turn her in, or something like that. ...

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Diane surveyed the cardboard box with glee as it sat there on the bedroom floor empty. It was about three foot cubed and sturdy construction, the kind you would get a television in. She watched eagerly as her master prepared the equipment he was going to use on her; she felt a tingle in her pussy too as he draped the zip up body bag over the side of the box as a reminder of what was to come. As he undressed her, Ian stroked every inch of her tender body, preparing her for her latest ordeal, knowing that he too was going to get such a thrill out of it. ...

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Ian slowly undressed his little slave girl and placed her on the bed at one side, while he got the items for tonight’s play from the wardrobe. He surveyed Diane with awe as she lay there on the top sheet; the duvet was needed elsewhere. Such an obedient little sex slave she was. He carefully took the duvet out from its cover and rolled it up neatly along side all the other items. Diane watched with glee as one by one the items were placed beside her body ready for her master’s use. Already she was tingling in her pussy at the thought of the enjoyment she was about to have. ...

She’d always dreamed that this would happen to her one day, now that day had arrived. Would she be able to go through with the plan to kidnap her and become his victim? I’d been talking to Cliff for over six weeks on the internet, we’d met in a chatroom devoted to bondage lovers and after many discussions I began to let slip some of my fantasies. Then one night while logged on with Cliff I let him know that one of my fantasies was to be kidnapped by a truck driver and kept in bondage for a trip across country. As fate would have it, it turned out that Cliff was an interstate truck driver and would be on the road next week. He told me that this trip would be a six day round trip, my heart leapt into my mouth as he asked if I would like to fulfil my fantasy and join him on the trip. We chatted some more and worked through some details of what he’d like to do with me, our chat finally ended as I had work the next morning and it was now getting late, I signed off but said that I would think about his offer and let him know. ...

This all came about when me and my Wife Donna realized we were arguing over a stupid subject, Sex. I know she had many thoughts going on all at the same time, Job, as for the Job for now she’s now working at a Travel Agency part time, but it’s kind of cool because she gets all kinds of deals. Other problems are Money and most important Health, and I’m sure there’s other thing if I were to press the issue. When we talk it seems like everything’s okay then it blows over for a while. Then just when things get on roll something always comes up. ...

Leah finished packing the last of the dishes into the box marked fragile. It had been a hectic past two days getting everything packed. “Finally,” she said while wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, “everything is packed. Now it’s up to the movers.” Leah and her husband, Chris, were moving to his parent’s farm, left to them after they had passed away. They had died in a car accident when a trucker had fallen asleep and crossed the lanes. Chris had taken the news very hard, as expected, but lately he had been feeling better and was returning to his old self. The settlement from the truck company had been very generous and they now had enough to live comfortably on the farm without financial concerns. They still planned to work the land and continue his father’s dream, but they wouldn’t have to scrimp and save as they had been. ...

I was expected by the Mistress I found over the net on a Monday morning. I worked nights, so it worked fine for me. I arrived to find her also cleaning out her house; she had a lot of different boxes, bags, etc. sitting in the living room. “So you want to experience being bagged, huh? Well, you’ll have to deal with the fact that I’m also cleaning my home. I normally only have sessions in the evening and overnight, but I’m doing this due to your work schedule. Understand?” ...

continued from part one Part 2: Rachel & Jose Four months ago, Suzanne went out on a job to rob the house of a Bob and Becky Smith. Unbeknownst to her friends, she had been caught in the act of her burglary. She was imprisoned in their home and hadn’t been heard from since. Alive, dead, or skipped town? Her friends intend to find out what happened. Rachel sat on the couch wondering to herself. She hadn’t seen or heard from her friend Suzanne in about 4 months. This was unusual, since she and Suzanne had become very close. (They were both bi-sexual and had been lovers for some time.) Being accomplished cat burglars and occasional partners in crime, they saw each other at least once a week, so that they could share stories and trade their spoils. Together, they were the most successful pair of cat burglars this town had seen in quite a few years. ...

Leah finished packing the last of the dishes into the box marked fragile. It had been a hectic past two days getting everything packed. “Finally,” she said while wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, “everything is packed. Now it’s up to the movers.” Leah and her husband, Chris, were moving to his parent’s farm, left to them after they had passed away. They had died in a car accident when a trucker had fallen asleep and crossed the lanes. Chris had taken the news very hard, as expected, but lately he had been feeling better and was returning to his old self. The settlement from the truck company had been very generous and they now had enough to live comfortably on the farm without financial concerns. They still planned to work the land and continue his father’s dream, but they wouldn’t have to scrimp and save as they had been. ...

Warning: Polystyrene foam expands in all directions once the chemical reaction is started. Once this reaction begins, it cannot be halted! Depending on the type it will expand from 5 to 10 times it’s starting volume. Simply put, a 1/4" layer of the liquid is going to become 1-1/4" to 2-1/2" of solid foam. If there is nowhere for the foam to expand outward (ie a plastic bag or something else that will give) it IS GOING TO EXPAND INWARD! (ie, against the person inside). ...

continued from part one Warning: Polystyrene foam expands in all directions once the chemical reaction is started. Once this reaction begins, it cannot be halted! Depending on the type it will expand from 5 to 10 times it’s starting volume. Simply put, a 1/4" layer of the liquid is going to become 1-1/4" to 2-1/2" of solid foam. If there is nowhere for the foam to expand outward (ie a plastic bag or something else that will give) it IS GOING TO EXPAND INWARD! (ie, against the person inside). ...

Amy Ford felt like she had won the academy award the Nobel peace prize and the lottery all in one when she got the call. For weeks she had been ‘stalking ‘ this hunk of a man who had been showing up at the Firehouse Grill and Bar. Her prey had a name. Peter Hunter. He seemed to have this glow about him that lit up the room. He had superhero looks with a squared jaw and deep blue eyes with sandy brown hair that sat on a remarkably trim and fit broad shoulder body. He showed up during Singles Friday over a month ago and all the women in the bar just seemed to gravitate toward him. Peter spoke in a soft kind manner and was a dream to talk to. He must have been a debate captain because he could talk to you on a variety of levels. Peter was not only good looking but he had money. He did not drive sports car but a beat up old jeep and very expensive SUV. She had seen him drive in with both. He would go camping over the weekends and did invite one or two to go with him. ...

Story also appears in Mummification section Clunk. Ears prick. Conscious struggles to return. It must be 6.00am. Languidly I stretch. I wait. Engine sounds. I’m alone! At last! A thrill shoots down my spine. No, wait. What if the car returns? Fifteen minutes more. Almost… Engine. Door. Pause. Clunk. Engine. Gone. My heart races. Two whole days to myself. I swing out of bed onto bare feet. I am alert to every sound. In my heightened sensitivity I relish the different textures underfoot as I pad softly around. Out comes my heavy bag. Now the kitchen scissors, where else? Heart thudding I pace. I mustn’t leave anything. Once begun there’s no stopping. I dither. Surely I’ve forgotten something. I wrench myself out of my indecisiveness. That’s it. I cannot dally anymore. ...

Feedback is VERY welcome. Tell me what you think. This is fiction. Its just a fairy tale. A tale for adults who are openminded for topics like sex, s&m, rubber and feet fetishes. If you are offended by such things, DONT continue reading NOW. All others, enjoy and drop me a line. Rubber Blackmail Sandra was still enjoying her quiet life without much troubles and her new friendship with Chrissy, whom she first met at the fitness club. Her job offered her very little challenge but there she could act out her dominant side. She was in charge of some of the girls who had so little money that they had to work as bondage performers. Those girls were put in plexiglas cases which look very similar to telephone booths for public amusement. Inside their booth they are dressed in different kinds of bondage or rubber gear. Some booths even allowed interaction from the outside… Sandra’s job was to assign which girl had to go in which booth in which outfit. A well paid job with very little work to do. ...

Feedback is VERY welcome. Tell me what you think. This is fiction. Its just a fairy tale. A tale for adults who are openminded for topics like sex, s&m, rubber and feet fetishes. If you are offended by such things, DONT continue reading NOW. All others, enjoy and drop me a line. The Rubber Lottery Sandra was beginning to get used to her “new life”. Since she had been put into the fitness program, she had been lucky so far and didn’t have to spend another day in the rubber incubator. (see story “part one ” for details) She really was making good progress and in a few weeks her training would no longer be a duty. Since she first met Chrissy at the fitness club they now had became friends. ...

Claudia sat back in her red imitation leather easy chair watching the carnage before her on her full size wall screen, two Goliaths battled it out in the centre of a huge arena, one a cyber armour-suited human wielding some sort of laser aux while his lizard-like alien foe jockeyed for a position to strike with his own lethal weapon, a moment later there was a large spatter of crimson blood splashed onto the view screen and trickled down before the automated cleansing beams removed the blood from the screen once again providing the thousands of spectators with a crystal clear 3D image of the continuing carnage. ...

Claudia sat back in her red imitation leather easy chair watching the carnage before her on her full size wall screen, two Goliaths battled it out in the centre of a huge arena, one a cyber armour-suited human wielding some sort of laser aux while his lizard-like alien foe jockeyed for a position to strike with his own lethal weapon, a moment later there was a large spatter of crimson blood splashed onto the view screen and trickled down before the automated cleansing beams removed the blood from the screen once again providing the thousands of spectators with a crystal clear 3D image of the continuing carnage. ...

A few days ago my roommate was telling me how he wished I could leave him for a long-term session. Now little did he know that I was listening to him. My roommate is six foot three and little over two hundred pounds where as I’m only five foot six and just around one hundred twenty-five pounds. I help him play his game and in return I get the house, video game and lots of peace in quiet. This is a true story I’m writing as it happens to him. ...

continued from part two Part 3: Retribution Mel clenched her eyes tight shut blocking out the sight of John’s satanic grin, but the memories of what had happened to Leanne and Mark seeped into the darkness. Tears flooded down her rosy cheeks and dropped, glinting as they passed through a beam of light passing through a window situated out of Mel’s sight and landed with a barely audible plop on the hard floor. John sauntered casually over to the terrified girl tied to the post. He had to step over the inert form of Emily lying on the floor. Only her eyes moved as she gazed up at the dirty soles of his feet as he strode over her as if she was a branch on the pavement of a street he was walking down. ...

(story continues from Human Pet 2) Chapter Three Part 1: I, Robot. Devon had to go into town for basic supplies. He came back to find Cindy in the French maid outfit and the ballet boots trying to catch up on some long neglected housework. It was a challenge for her to move much less clean. She always was holding on to a broom or vacuum cleaner for additional balance. To make her house work more difficult. Devon added ankle weights and zipped tied them on. Cindy was in torment the entire day but her legs never looked better. ...

I might have mentioned that I am into a few fetishes. I guess I got involved because I had some submissive tendencies for which I sought help from a West Coast dominatrix (Sylvia) whom I see often. This story is about latex, and how she got me to love it! Sylvia advertises in adventurous tabloids on the West Coast. It is clear that most–if not all–of her clients are men, at least before I met her. But I wanted to resolve some deep, nagging fantasies about bondage, and she agreed to take me on. I did pay her fee (which is very reasonable, by the way), and so she gave me a session. I will surely describe the many sessions we had if you wish, but one which we did recently was very powerful. ...

Our new friend Mei had never heard of BDSM play with plastic garbage bags before, but she’s taken to it like a duck to water, to the point where she’ll make herself a trash bag dress to wear even when we’re doing completely unrelated kinky activities. (Do I mind? Heck no!) The other day when I came home from work, I found Mei and Azure tangled up naked on the bed playing around together, and I made the mistake of teasing them about it… almost before I knew what was going on, they had me naked and bound, and the black plastic was being zipped shut over my head. They proceeded to go on with what they’d been doing, as I lay there helpless and able only to listen. That was one of the most erotic afternoons I’ve had in some time, especially since they’d fondle and tease me during their breaks! But the post I’ve been promising is about a few weekends ago, when Mei threw me a birthday party early on a Saturday afternoon. The fact that it wasn’t my birthday didn’t seem to slow her down a bit; when I came into the play room, the table had a few presents and was covered in whipped cream pies, frosted sheet cakes, cans of pudding, and much more. I opened my presents, but Mei decided she was very cross with me when I admitted that I hadn’t gotten around to inviting anyone else to a party I hadn’t even been aware of :) She brought out the little PVC frame I’d used on sirgirlie, and soon I was sitting in the middle of it in the depths of a 55-gallon trash bag. Mei wasted little time covering me with every single one of the desserts she had laid out - I must have been eight inches deep in the stuff when she was done. (This, too, was her first messy play scene, and she enjoyed it so much that she’s eager for some turnaround as soon as we can set it up.) Soon, satisfied with her work, she found a zip-tie and sealed me up tightly in what she merrily called my “plastic prison”. Now, I assumed she’d leave me in there for a while, teasing me a bit and possibly even using me once or twice, and that’s exactly what happened. But after about a half-hour of this, to my surprise I heard another bag being shaken out, as she told me there were too many little holes in my bag now and she didn’t want to clean up a mess. Mei rolled me back and forth, and from side to side, as she slipped not one but two more bags around me and tied them both off. I did have air holes, but I couldn’t help but hope that they remained properly lined up through all those layers! Then, I heard a sound I couldn’t believe. The front door opened, and I heard the hollow rattling sound of the big blue recycling can being wheeled into the play room. I’d told Mei what I did to Girlie a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t even suggested to her that we should do that scene together. And yet, I heard the noise of a couple bags of padding being tossed into the bottom, then the sound of the can being laid on its side so she could slide me in! Now, a confession. Getting an adult human being into a four-foot-tall garbage can is not as easy as the stories say, especially when said adult isn’t especially small. I had some trouble with my Girlie, and Mei put forth considerable time and effort to do it to me. She later confessed that next time, she’s probably going to want the help of another top. But eventually she got me in, and tossed a few more bags in on top of me to get me the full effect… and soon I felt the rough bounces of the can going down the front porch steps! The rush of endorphins was unbelievable. I certainly couldn’t move in there… I could breathe fine, but not quite comfortable… and soon I felt the sun beating down on the plastic can lid, and the black plastic around me soaking up heat. I couldn’t sense Mei around anywhere - I couldn’t doubt she was nearby, but it was easy to imagine that she wasn’t - that she was back in the house, resting on the couch and maybe watching TV as she left me to my fate. Cars drove by, and I feared to even wiggle too much in case I should somehow be seen. There’s not much more detail to tell. Mei says I was out there for over 45 minutes, and I will say that I could move just enough to give myself a powerful, earth-shattering treat, the afterglow of which lasted long after she finally retrieved me. Though she got me back to the steps, she was too worn out to get the can back up them, and I was so shaky from the cramping and endorphins that I couldn’t even stand up. We got me out and in the front door, and dragged me to the shower where I could start washing all the mess off, and slowly regained the use of my legs. There was quite a lot of cleanup to do afterwards, I’m afraid… the can still has chocolate smears all over it… but I was grinning too much to care. So that’s my story of my first trip to the curb. I think there’s a very good chance that it won’t be my last. ...

Laurel was tired after a long week of work managing the cosmetic company she owned. She rubbed her neck as she slowly drove her car to her favorite health resort for a well deserved weekend of pampering and relaxation. When she had acquired the cosmetic company last year, she never knew that ownership would require her to take such a hands-on role in the day-to-day operations. In fact, the time she spent working at her business had affected her personal life as her husband Matt Hardy had recently left her with no note as to where he was moving to. The fact that she didn’t even notice he was gone till three days after he had left spoke volumes about the total immersion she had taken in her business. “Hmmmm… maybe I’ll try and track down Matt after the fall line is launched and see if we can patch things up. If not, one of the beefcakes who work here can more than fill his shoes …” Laurel thought to herself as she drove into the resort’s parking lot and parked her Ferrari in a spot near the private member’s entrance. She hopped out and strode across the parking lot noting how the lot seemed deserted right now which usually wasn’t the case for the resort. Laurel took out her membership card and swiped it across a panel next to the entrance door. A few seconds later, there was a loud BEEP! followed by an audible clicking noise. Laurel pulled open the door and walked inside the luxuriously furnished area set aside for the wealthy members of the resort. She walked up to the reception desk and greeted the woman behind it with a familial tome as she signed in. “Janice, I really need a massage in the worst way today. If Mario or Luigi are available today, it would be great,” Laurel said hopefully to the platinum blonde receptionist. “Hmmm… Mario’s out helping a friend move into one of those new condos built by Koopa developers but I think Luigi will be available in about an hour or two. If you want to do a little exercising till then, I think some of the climbers are available over there,” the receptionist said cheerfully while pointing over to the left towards the equipment she mentioned. Laurel smiled as she headed towards the change rooms. “I’ll give ’em a try for a little while though I have to save something for Luigi’s expert hands!” she called out happily to the receptionist before going in to change her outfit. Laurel emerged shortly thereafter wearing a tight fitting white mesh bodysuit that emphasized her voluptuous figure from her ample breasts to slim waist and shapely legs. She went over to where the exercise machines were lined up and started on one of the stair climber machines that lined the far wall of the exercise area. She exercised steadily over the next hour and a half stopping only to take a drink and to fend off the advances from muscular men looking to start a relationship or have a romp in bed. After finishing her workout, Laurel wrapped a towel around her neck and walked back to the receptionist area hoping to hear good news. Wiping the perspiration off her forehead and chest, she noted by the clock on a nearby wall that it was very close to the time where the spa would shut down for the day. The receptionist looked up as the buxom woman approached her and nodded slightly as she stapled some papers together. “Good timing, Laurel! Luigi is back and waiting for you in room number 3. He’s even agreed to stay past closing to make sure you get a full massage at no extra charge,” Janice said happily as she motioned towards the area where the massages were given. “Thanks, Janice! I appreciate the effort you’ve put in for me. Talk to you soon!” Laurel called out as she hurried off for the massage she longed to start. Once in the nearby change area, she stripped off her clothes she was wearing and wrapped a large white terry cloth towel around her body. She headed down to the area where Luigi set up for his clients and entered into the room where the massage table was. Unwrapping the towel around her, Laurel tossed it on a nearby chair and climbed up on the table where she laid down pressing her breasts into the soft leather covering as she fell into a light sleep. She dreamed of having a man looking allot like Luigi caressing and making love to her over and over again in a highly erotic atmosphere. Laurel’s sleep was interrupted by the feeling of hands going up and down her back and shoulders in a wonderfully pleasant manner. “Mmmm…. Luigi, you have such a wonderful touch…. you must keep your wife very happy….” she murmured as a feeling of euphoria swept through her body. After a few more minutes of massaging that spread to her legs, neck and arms, Laurel was almost purring in contentment as she felt so good… so light…. just like in her dreams. However, the wonderful feelings she was experiencing came to an abrupt halt when she turned her head and saw her reflection in a nearby mirror. The reflection she saw in the mirror shocked her and snapped her out of her daze. Her body was rapidly changing from flesh to rubber and latex with her skin was becoming smooth and shiny with no signs of freckles and blemishes anywhere. Her breasts rapidly changed into mounds of plastic capped by bright pink nipples that seemed to be erect. ...

It had been a long week of work. I had barely had a moment to myself, let alone any time for my wife Jen since my company picked up a new account the week before. I was working 18 hour days which left me just enough time to get home, eat and get a few hours of sleep before getting back up and heading back in. As I walked through the front door looking forward to having a couple days off I could hear the vacuum cleaner going downstairs in the finished basement. I thought nothing of it as Jen would regularly vacuum the house on Fridays after she returned from work. I went about putting my things away then opened the basement door and proceeded to head down the stairs to greet my wife. When I got to the bottom of the stairs what I saw surprised and aroused me. As I had mentioned in an earlier story I had written, I had devised a devilish way to explore my trash bag fantasy. It involved securing two 55 gallon black trash bags together, attaching a valve, and a breathing tube. Climbing in, attaching the valve to a vacuum, tying the bag over my head and letting the vacuum suck all of the air out of the bag so I would be sealed tightly inside. Jen had found me in my bag prison one time and it tipped her off to a serious fetish that I had involving black trash bags. It had been months since she helped me live out this fetish in the most amazing of ways. Nothing since then had materialized as I was so busy with work. She had also been swamped with work and our personal time had been brief. I had almost forgot about our little tryst. But I digress back to the scene that was playing out before my eyes in the basement. The vacuum that was running was not our regular vacuum, but a commercial shop vac that I had. It was attached to a black 55 gallon trash bag, and inside the bag, clearly visible, was the silhouette of a female body. That body was not the body of Jen as she was straddling the bag which was on the floor. Jen was wearing only a bra and thong as she was grinding on the body below her. The body in the bag was writhing as Jen used her hands in between the thighs of her prisoner. I sat quietly on the stairs becoming more aroused as I watched my wife grinding on the body of an unknown girl, using the method that I had come up with to play in my own little fantasy land. after a few minutes of voyeurism, I walked town the stairs and said to Jen. “What the hell is going on here?” Jen did not respond as she was in the middle of a full blown orgasm, and the sound of the vacuum was overpowering my voice as I looked on longingly, my cock straining against the zipper on my pants. When She came down from the high of her orgasm, I cleared my throat loudly and repeated “What the hell is going on here?” Jen spun around, alarmed and stammered. “Uh, um, well; I uh!” She was blushing red all over, I couldn’t tell if it was a post orgasm flush, or she was actually embarrassed. She looked at the growing bulge in my pants and commented, “Looks like someone is a little turned on by what they have stumbled in upon.” I just nodded my head as she got to her feet and sauntered over to where I was standing. I looked down at the prisoner on the floor and asked, “Who is in the trash bag prison?” Jen smiled and said, “It’s none of your business for the time being, maybe you should take advantage of what you see there in the bag.” She took my hand and lead me over to the package on the floor. Jen stated that she couldn’t hear with the vacuum being right next to her head, and I knew from my experience that the bag being tightly sealed to my head made hearing very difficult. Jen reached down and grabbed my package and gave it a playful squeeze and instructed me to get undressed. Who was I to argue? As I undressed I took in the image on the floor. The girl in the bag was sealed so tightly that I could see every single curve of her very voluptuous female body. The curves of her breasts. The point of her nipples, straining against the cool plastic. The soft ridges of her abdominals leading right down the the puffy mound of her pussy. Her legs were slightly spread and the shiny black trash bag was pulled taught to her pussy. It was so tightly sealed I could actually make out the distinct shape of her pussy lips. It was a sight to behold. As I dropped my underwear and my rigid cock sprung free, Jen walked over and asked if I liked what I saw. I replied with nothing but a strained, “uh huh!” She smiled and told me to do as I wish with the toy which was laid out in front of me. “Pleasure her, rub your cock against the shiny black plastic bag stretched tightly across her body. Make yourself cum. She is there for you to abuse, but remember. She will not know that it isn’t me until your cock touches her. Make her want your dick!” As my wife was instructing me she had reached down and begun to rub my still growing member, she slipped her finger over the head and slid the pre-cum around with her slender fingers. She then started to stroke me. When she finished speaking she knelt down and took me in her mouth. She got me very wet and told me to fuck her friend until I came. She said, “Get between her legs and fuck that bag. I want to see you cum all over that plastic. I want to lick your cum off her plastic covered stomach.” I did as I was instructed to do. I stood between the legs of the unknown girl, laying on my basement carpet. Tightly encased in a black trash bag, writhing, waiting for someone to pleasure her and smiled devilishly. Jen seeing my smile sat down and spread her legs placing one foot on either side of my trash girls head, then parted her pussy lips with her fingers and started to pleasure herself. Without touching my cock to the body below me I licked a path from the trash girls clearly defined belly button, across the tightly stretched plastic to the raised nipple. The body below me writhed and began to grind. There was a strange sensation as her body met mine. The bag was initially cool, then there was a flash of heat as her body heat radiated through the bag. I took my time as I traced paths all over her body. From her toes to her neck. I used every inch of her body to build the anticipation for what was about to happen. She couldn’t make a sound as a tube was in her mouth so she could breath. After almost 30 minutes of teasing my trash bag girl, and being teased as my sexy wife brought herself to one trembling orgasm after another, eventually resulting in her squirting all over her plaything, she leaned in close to me and said, “Make yourself cum by grinding against her. I want your cum. Give it to me and her!” I obliged. As I leaned down, placing one hand on either side of the body below me, I slowly guided my groin down onto hers. When contact was made the feeling was incredible. There was again a moment of cool refreshment as the tight plastic retained the chill of the basement air, then there was a rush of heat as the burning desire of her pussy blazed through the plastic. Moments after initial contact was made the body below me began to grind intensely. It was all I could do to keep from blowing within a minute of first touching her. She was writing uncontrollably, bucking wildly, she was groaning as she came. Again and again. I could feel her pussy pulse with each subsequent orgasm. Jen straddled her head and leaned in to kiss me passionately. That was it for me. I lost it. My balls tightened up and I began to erupt. As I came, the trash bag goddess below me must have felt the heat from my cum hit her stomach. she began to convulse hard, she was grinding against my cock hard. Jen needed to get in on the fun so she reached down and began to rub my cock, pressing it hard into the pussy below. When Jen was satisfied that I was empty she pushed me back and ran her fingers through my cum which was splattered across the shiny black plastic stretched across the stomach and pussy of the body below me. Jen then bent down and began to lick ravenously. She licked up every last drop of my pleasure. As she finished cleaning up my mess she smiled at me and said, “I hope you have enjoyed this first part of a night you won’t soon forget!” I looked at her surprised and said, “First part?” She smiled and shook her head. Her hair fell in front of her face as a grin spread across her lips. “This is just a warm up my dear!” she stated with a wicked grin. then she pushed me back so I fell to my back. She told me not to move, which I did not. I had learned to follow instructions very well. I watched her intently as she reached over and shut the vacuum off, after a moment the bag begin to loosen it’s vise like grip on the body within. The trash girl could now move her arms and legs. Jen reached over and started to pull the rope off the top of the bag and said, “You are next in the bag. Don’t argue, you are going to do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?” I nodded as the girl in the bag appeared. it was… ...

continues from part two Part 3 - Bagged & Packed “So with your advisor away, you’re pretty much free all week, aren’t you Karen?” Zoe sat across the table from Karen, nibbling at the pasta Karen had made. Zoe’s eyes still had the wicked gleam they had held ever since Karen had released her from the trunk that afternoon. It’s her own fault she ended up in there, Karen thought. Still, she shuddered to think of the revenge that Zoe was surely plotting. ...

(story continues from Away On Business 5: Mirror, mirror…) WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Authors Note: Just as a background whenever I was away on business Diane used to send me horny emails, often I would read these during meetings etc. As you can imagine it was quite distracting to say the least. I have made them into this series of stories called ‘Away on Business’. I bet you wished your girlfriend sent you horny emails like this when you were away on business! ...

(story continues from Away On Business 6: More Duvet Roll) WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Authors Note: Just as a background whenever I was away on business Diane used to send me horny emails, often I would read these during meetings etc. As you can imagine it was quite distracting to say the least. I have made them into this series of stories called ‘Away on Business’. I bet you wished your girlfriend sent you horny emails like this when you were away on business! ...

(story continues from Away On Business 7: The Bag Revisited) WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Authors Note: Just as a background whenever I was away on business Diane used to send me horny emails, often I would read these during meetings etc. As you can imagine it was quite distracting to say the least. I have made them into this series of stories called ‘Away on Business’. I bet you wished your girlfriend sent you horny emails like this when you were away on business! ...

(story continues from Away On Business 8: In Mind Of Master’s Cock) WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Authors Note: Just as a background whenever I was away on business Diane used to send me horny emails, often I would read these during meetings etc. As you can imagine it was quite distracting to say the least. I have made them into this series of stories called ‘Away on Business’. I bet you wished your girlfriend sent you horny emails like this when you were away on business! ...

As always, she arrives at about 8 a.m. She’s still wearing her airline uniform, having flown an early flight this morning. She looks bedraggled and a bit wilted. She probably came right from the airport. She called me last night telling me how stressed out she was. I made sure everything was ready for her. After a friendly kiss on the cheek and a bit of small talk, she heads for the bathroom to empty her bowels and bladder as best she can. I’ve given her a large tube of KY jelly and pair of latex panties equipped with inflatable, vibrating anal and vaginal dildoes. She knows the routine. She puts these on, lubricating herself using the entire tube of jelly. I leave her to these chores and go put on my latex catsuit. I knew I’d have to wear the suit for at least as long as her ordeal. Fortunately, it had two-way zipper which allowed me to open up to pee even when the suit was locked on. Fluid control is not one of my “things”. ...

As always, she arrives at about 8 a.m. She’s still wearing her airline uniform, having flown an early flight this morning. She looks bedraggled and a bit wilted. She probably came right from the airport. She called me last night telling me how stressed out she was. I made sure everything was ready for her. After a friendly kiss on the cheek and a bit of small talk, she heads for the bathroom to empty her bowels and bladder as best she can. I’ve given her a large tube of KY jelly and pair of latex panties equipped with inflatable, vibrating anal and vaginal dildoes. She knows the routine. She puts these on, lubricating herself using the entire tube of jelly. I leave her to these chores and go put on my latex catsuit. I knew I’d have to wear the suit for at least as long as her ordeal. Fortunately, it had two-way zipper which allowed me to open up to pee even when the suit was locked on. Fluid control is not one of my “things”. ...

As artifact hunters went, Lara Cross was not what one would call your physically and mentally ’typical,’ self-educated soldier of fortune. Stunning good looks and gorgeously put together dimensions camouflaged well her high IQ and quick-witted thinking in a way that almost always cause antagonists and friendlies alike to stand in awe of her assertive qualities and deliberately constructed persona. Everything she chose to wear, both socially and professionally, was tight fitting, which only made matters worse, where jealous women and gawking males were concerned. But that is precisely the effect Lara sought to project when dealing with anyone who crossed her path. Not that she was a tease or high-end slut on the prowl. She just loved and hated being a woman in a male dominated world, and did whatever it took to level the playing field of that double standard in a way that often gave her a marginally unfair, but very necessary advantage. ...

Part 1: First Time Britney realized her submissive side early in life and was equally fortunate when her best friend Julie playfully dominated her one night during a sleepover. By high school Britney was regularly catering to her future owner’s needs, carrying her books, cleaning her locker, washing her car dressed in whatever getup she desired and making sure her more personal needs were met. Julie’s parent were quite well off, so it was easy for her to get her future slave inappropriate clothing for a high school teenager. By their senior year she had became her full time slave. ...

Cindy had spent many days enclosed inside the love doll, she had become more like the doll in many ways. Now she even had the box to be stored in… (story continues from Cindy Lovedoll) Part 2: Bagged! As I’ve said in my previous story about how I’d come back early from a trip to find a latex sexdoll in my boyfriends bed. I’d had the overwhelming urge to become the sexdoll, I just had to be “her”. My boyfriend had used me without realising that I’d replaced “her”, and then in the morning, I had revealed my secret. We had progressed until one weekend my partner had surprised me with a present, a box to keep his love doll in! I was in heaven and quickly found just how much I enjoyed being bound in the box and kept for his pleasure. ...

Cindy had tied herslf up at home, dressed in her latex catsuit, three invaders made their presence felt in her holes, she was deep in fantasy of being used by three people at once when the climax hit and then she realsied that she was not alone… (story continues from Cindy Lovedoll 2: Bagged!) Part 3: Latex Slave I had just been kidnapped after tying myself up, dressed in my latex catsuit and plugged, gagged and bound by my own hands. Whilst in the throughs of my orgasm I had been discovered by someone who had taken advantage of my tightly bound body and used my rear from his pleasure and as it turned out mine too. He then bound me even tighter and stuffed me into a canvas gym bag, I was now just a piece of luggage not a sexy, voluptuous woman but a mere sex object. ...

story continues from part three Chapter 4 Amber peeked out from behind the curtains into the darkness. The outbuildings of the rambling old house that belonged to Jade and Jasmine’s parents were well lit with security lights, but further afield, along the quarter of a mile long driveway that led from the road to the isolated cluster of buildings, the blackness was absolute. Amber checked her watch. The digital display, dazzling in the otherwise unlit room, informed her that it was almost 7pm. Any minute now, the tall blonde woman thought smugly to herself, the prey would show itself. And from that point on, Amber felt certain, there would be no escape for the unsuspecting victim of her subterfuge. ...

story continues from part four Chapter 5 Amber gazed from the dark interior of the car out into the blackness beyond. Two down, two to go, she thought to herself. She briefly caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass and noticed that she was smiling slightly at the notion that the job was half complete, and that, so far, it had all gone according to plan. One of the ‘downed’ duo currently languished only a few feet away in the boot of the car in which they were travelling, whilst alongside her in the driver’s seat, one half of the pair that made up the ‘to go’ category sat, still oblivious to the fact that she would soon become just as much a victim of this whole deception as both her sister and her friend. ...

story continues from part two Chapter 3 Lauren cursed under her breath. That must have been the fifth time in the past two hours or so that the phone had rung. Or was it the sixth? To tell the truth she’d lost count by now. But one thing she did know was that these constant interruptions weren’t exactly conducive to a nice, peaceful, relaxing session of self-bondage, which is what she’d been hoping for this Monday morning. ...

Sign posted on a telephone poll: Duct tape testing, participants needed, 5 business days, 8 hours per day, $5,000. Call 555-4567 to sign up. What a deal to test duct tape, what does that mean?? Why not, I’m not turning down $5,000. So I call, its taking place at the packing factory, where they make duct tape and plastics. Monday, Day 1 OK, I’m here, show up at the desk, I’m here for the testing…. sure go through those doors…OK. In there are five girls, all good looking. A representative comes in to tell us that only us 6 are testing… that’s fine with me. I had to sign a contract and will be paid on the last day…… OK sounds good. ...

Chapter One Part One - Pick Up & Delivery “Elly, Elly are you with me?” The question had shocked her out of her thoughts, again she wondered if she really knew what the hell she was doing, she smiled and looked at the man addressing her. “I’m sorry I was lost in my own thoughts.” She apologized with a smile. Her name was Elaine actually. A spelling she had never really liked, most people called her Elly, but a few of her closer friends called her Ella. ...

It was Friday evening. She knew what that meant. She could hear the irregular pounding of her heart as it was thunder looming on a humid summer’s day. She rang the door bell anyway. After a minute the door opened and she was ushered inside. She walked down the hall, following the owner of the house, wondering what was going to happen this time. A door was opened for her and she stepped slowly down the dimly lit wooden stairs into the cellar. ...

Note: This is a work of fiction, any bearing on people or places is purely coincidental. Part 1: Captured The evening was quite warm that February night, as I was woken up by a strange sound from outside. I wouldn’t have woke up if it wasn’t so warm, but the heat from the city streets outside was making it so hard to relax. I got up and went to the kitchen, with all the heat I was thirsty, and I was so lonely, what with my boyfriend breaking up with me last night. Ok, so I admit it, I was angry, but we were starting to drift apart, and we weren’t seeing things “eye to eye” as it were. The cold air from the fridge was so comforting, I took a moment to absorb the coolness, and then I took out the iced tea I had prepared earlier that evening. I went to the patio and looked out at the city, my apartment was on the 10th floor of the Jacobs building, I could see the outskirts of the city from here, and it was so beautiful there. You could see the mountains on a clear cool night, with the full moon shining down upon the majestic sides of that wonderful place. I was wondering what the noise was that woke me up, when something hard hit me on the back of the head, the last thing I remember was falling to the ground and seeing a shadow move into view. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 4) Part 5 The party of three men and their female companion walked – casually, it seemed – over the low sand hills towards the spot where Lauren’s and the twins’ heads poked out of the ever diminishing strip of beach. When they reached a point around ten feet away from the three stricken young women, the men stopped, leaving Amber to approach on her own. Lauren watched as the black boots of the dominatrix approached and halted right by her head; so close, in fact, that the scent of the leather mingled with the salty air. As she moved, the soft creaking of Amber’s skin-tight latex cat-suit was audible over the crashing waves that were only a few feet away now… and getting nearer by the second. Amber looked down at her three helpless captives, a smile on her face as she surveyed the mayhem that – it was now obvious – had all been part of her devious plan. ...

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 5) Part 6 Lauren sighed contentedly and curled up under the duvet. The warm bedding she’d been snuggled up in for the past few hours was in stark contrast to her experience of the night before, and she was grateful for the sense of security and wellbeing that she could now savour. It was still dark outside, although the first signs that daybreak was imminent could be seen peeping through the gaps between the curtains. Her vision, however, as she gazed out into the twilight of the bedroom, was not as sharp as it would have been under normal circumstances. ...

It was a hot spring day and I was walking around with my back pack on a short sleeve shirt and a pair of shorts. Inside my pack I had water, black bin liners, duct tape, and an extra pair of clothes. I was planning a day for myself to be quite interesting and had to come prepared for anything that could happen. My plan was to bag myself in someone’s trash and get discovered and see how they would react… this way I would know if they were willing to play or not…. ...

(story continues from Finding the Right Trash Mistress) Part 2 The last time was when the packer was taking me and the trash into the belly of the truck and the trash men were going about their day, to finish loading the truck to haul off to the land fill…. My newly found trash Mistress was so hot by the events that transpired she was wet between her legs for hours after. She decided that it was in her best interest to follow the truck to its destination, she had found in me the same thing that I had found in her, a playmate to discover just how power and control can effect someone. She loved to be in control and I loved being helpless to let her do what she wanted… ...

(story continues from Finding the Right Trash Mistress 2) Part 3 It was two weeks one day when I returned to her house. I was greeted by her at the door and she was stern with me! “I told you to return in two weeks! You are one day late! So you will have to endure one week of my punishment!” “I was not able to come yesterday for I was trying to get my work schedule aligned with our time and it was looking like I was not going to get the time needed yesterday!” I pleaded with her with no avail. “You will meet me by the garage naked, and I hope you brought all the supplies I requested on the list I put in your pack before you left!” she was looking stunning in her black yoga pants, and tight tank top. “I did grab all that you requested and have everything in a duffle bag in the car.” ...

(story continues from Finding the Right Trash Mistress 3) Part 4 I was now sitting in my Mistresses trash can covered in trash and she told me that I was going to be in here for a week. I was now very hot in the warm hot sun beaming down on the can which heated the trash around me. She had a few more helpful guests arrive and open the lid and dump in trash, to discover me sitting in filth. They like her turned and just emptied the trash atop of me and then returned the lid to closed each time replacing the lock which sealed me inside. I heard my Mistress talking, “He is no longer to be looked at as human, he is now trash and will become what he is at the end of the week. I am sure that we can place him in the compactor and then just dump the produce waste in and push the button. I will discuss what time when I talk to my friend at the store. She will have the bin picked up two days after we compact his ass which will give it the time to understand that I will not tolerate how I have had to change my plans due to it being late!” This was exciting, and I started to grow and had no way to touch myself due to my hands being attached to my ankles. I knew right then that she meant what she said, “You have made me change my plans which was a waste of my time!” I also knew that my can would be awful full at the end of the week. The week went by fast as the lid was opened and closed many times and more waste was put in with me. I heard my Mistress unlock the lid, “Today is garbage day!” as she smiled and turned her head due to the smell from inside my can. “I must tie off the top of the bags and place this can in my truck bed to take to the store. My friend has been gracious enough to place my trash in her compactor at work. All sorts of wet waste and stuff gets packed in there and I will not have to worry about my trash anymore!” “My friend has seen what trash you are and she has saved lots of good bags of stuff to make the experience more like what happens to trash. I will be able to fill the hopper right up and then push the button to watch as it pushes the trash flat inside the bin, reload the hopper again and watch as my trash disappears!” ...

Part Four It was a strange sensation as I left the gym, surrounded by six very attractive young women and two prefects, all in latex. They made me the centre of attention and I was first embarrassed but then began to take pleasure that they should show so much interest. We walked languorously back in the now strong sun. I noticed almost at once the girls who had been beaten in wrestling or by the cane showed no animosity to the other three, although they didn’t know precisely who had beaten whom. With the prefects they were fairly cool; they knew the power they wielded and were keen not to transgress any lines. Emma was happy and at ease, proud of her little plaything (me). We passed the old schoolyard where the two girls I had seen earlier in tennis whites had finished and now joined us, so we were now a group of eleven and quite a jolly group. We arrived at the showers and toilets and without warning we all went inside. I hesitated at the door but Emma said. ...

Part Five We must have drifted off to sleep for a while but I awoke with Sarah’s whispering in my ear, her tender cheek resting against mine. “Turn over,” she said, “turn over.” In my half sleep I turned over the tight collar of the rubber bag we were locked in stretched and adjusted as I twisted round. Still half asleep I wondered what she was playing with behind me. She started to slip on top of me and my head is pressed into the rubber pillow. I felt her weight on top of me and she gently took my wrists and then cross them behind my back and grip them firmly. ...

Part Eight After the endeavours of the afternoon and evening I was hungry and very tired. I went to the dining room and it was empty. I passed into the kitchen and it too was empty but I helped myself to some fruit and a glass of milk and sat down on my own in the dining room. I felt a bit lonely, I had to admit, after all the excitement of the day. I was hot, sweaty and I needed a shower and some sleep. But just then a voice cheered me up. ...

Part Two It was a warm summer night but they were dressed to the nines – in rubber. All three wore full length hooded capes with only their faces exposed. Miss Broad looked calm and controlled, Emma quite uneasy, and Sarah downright uncomfortable, as well she may. Sigi kissed Miss Broad and then Emma, although she didn’t exactly return it. Sarah nodded shyly and tried to smile but Sigi laughed, gripped her shoulders and planted a big kiss on her lips. She looked shocked but did not wriggle away. Sigi was well aware of the power she seemed to have over these women and thoroughly enjoyed it. ...

Part Three When I awoke, I assumed it was morning, but the women above me had left to prepare for the next session. For a while I floated in my rubbery prison, then looked up to see three happy faces smiling down at me. I placed my balled fist to the transparent sheet, asking them silently to release me; they wouldn’t have detected any of my expressions in the mask, just a pair of eyes staring back at them. I saw them laugh at my position. I wasn’t uncomfortable really, but it was the feeling of utter helplessness. My masculinity, manhood, independence had evaporated within their hold. ...

The cold walls of the cell surrounded Thomas as he lay on the bunk, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Considering the size of the cell, and the complete and utter lack of anything to keep his attention, his mind wandered towards what he would be doing the rest of the day. A bit of weight lifting perhaps, a dinner composed of crappy food… and that was it. Day after day of the same meaningless activities to keep him occupied… what was even more depressing was the fact that this was the rest of his life. There would be no escape from the monotony, as the possibility for parole hadn’t been included when the judge had ordered him to be sent here. That fact had long since bored itself into his brain, but Thomas couldn’t get his mind off that unpleasant fact. There was movement near the cell door. His roommates coming back from breakfast maybe? “All right Morrison, up and at ‘em.” Thomas looked up curiously. One of the guards was waiting for him at the door. As far as he knew, he didn’t have an appointment with the fine officers of the prison. “What’s going on?” he asked as he got off the bunk and walked over to the gate. “Warden wants to see you.” “Him? Why?” “Hell if I know.” “Did I break a rule?” “Don’t think so. He didn’t offer any details. Now come on, slip your hands through.” With well practiced precision, Thomas put his hands through the opening in the bars, allowed the guard to lock the handcuffs on. The cold steel gripped his hands as the gate was opened and he walked out. The guard led him through the wing of the prison towards the central hub, where the warden’s office waited. They entered a few moments later, where the warden was waiting in his plump chair. “Take a seat Morrison.” Thomas did so. “If I may ask,” he said. “Why am I here?” “Don’t worry, you didn’t break any rules or get into trouble,” the warden said. “In fact, that’s precisely the reason you’re here.” Confused, Thomas looked at the warden. “Morrison, there’s a new program being started up by the state. It’s scheduled to go into full operation about a year from now, but currently it’s in the last stages of testing. It’s a new method of housing prisoners, and they’re looking for someone to test it out on.” It only took a second for Morrison to realize where this was going. “They sent out a bulletin to us last night asking if we had anyone who could be a test subject, and I immediately thought of you.” “Why?” “Simple. You’re one of the best inmates we got. Spotless record, never caused a fuss, never got in a fight. You’re grade A prisoner, and that’s who they’re looking for.” Thomas wasn’t sure if he was flattered or not. “Oh.” “Because of that, I wanted to offer you the opportunity to try out this new housing procedure before anyone else.” “What’s in it for me?” “Well, it’ll be a lot more comfortable and possibly more enjoyable then spending most of your time in cells…” That got Thomas’s attention. “I figured that would catch your eye. Now, I can’t tell you exactly what this procedure is, but if you’re interested, all you have to do is say the word.” “I’d rather be freed.” “Sorry, but we can’t arrange that. You know what the judge said. Life without parole. Even working in this experiment can’t change that. All we can offer is to make your life more comfortable. It only took a few moments for Thomas to make up his mind. “Done.” “That quick, eh?” “If it gets me out of this hellish place, I’ll do it.” “Figured you’d say that. We’ve already got a van set to take you out there. You need to get your things?” Thomas shook his head. “Nothing to get.” “All right then. I’ll send word out to get you going… you do know they’ll have to transport you in full gear, right? High name prisoner like you needs to be tied down.” “I won’t run.” “I know. But rules are rules.” “I can take it.” “Good. Better get going then.” Thomas stood, the guard coming up to escort him out. As he started out, Thomas paused. “Oh, warden… what exactly is this facility?” The warden shook his head. “They didn’t say.” ...

(story continues from Gai Shift - Pit 6: The Mission)_ Chapter 7: Evaluation It was an somber subterranean chamber, its walls rough brickwork, its air hanging in stillness. The far end of the room tapered into a dark hall floored with shadowy holes. At the other, a large pipe jutted out, a set of canvas bags strung beneath it at the ready. The silence was broken as distant ram-fans spun up, rumbling like a summer storm. A gale built from the downward maw of the pipe. ...

To understand the Gai Shift & to review the characters in this story, check out this useful guide: Gai-Shift Encyclopedia of Knowledge_ Chapter 1: Coming of the Norsewomen It was a London unrecognizable by our money-driven, computer-threaded, media-shouting world, a London divergent from ours by the amazing biological thunder-flash of 1922. In this London airships loiter from the Tower Bridge masts, steam omnibuses stutter about the streets and the skies clear of smog and the walls, graffiti. Its sidewalks team with women, some proudly strutting, some secured and meek (a role often changing weekly). Socially beneath them scuttle men (or mannis), belted and strapped and subservient, property of their mistresses. ...

(story continues from Gai-Shift - Thermocline Chapter 1: Coming of the Norsewomen)_ Chapter 2: Weapons of Mass Depravity Her clothing was at odds with her surroundings. The black latex bodysuit which displayed her body’s lusty contours contrasted to the heavy Victorian furnishings of the locked, curtained room. The only sound came from her rasping breathing and the tick of an oak-cased clock, counting down the seconds until the promised moment she would be unmercifully ravaged. ...

This story is the Male point-of-view version of “My New Position” and shows a darker side to the story… The subliminal messaging seem to work well with this one, the speakers hidden in her office have been playing from the time she started working for me as my PA, now a several weeks later the conditioning to accept latex clothing as normal, something that she desires above all else seems to have come to fruition, the trigger for her responses, the ‘damaged’ parcel containing the latex catsuit has just been delivered to her by the courier. ...

Nothing to do tonight. I’ve been divorced so long it seems like forever. So I do what I usually do when I’m bored and horny. I get the ropes and pantyhose out of the drawer and get ready to have some good intense orgasms. Self-bondage can make me have the most intense orgasms I have ever had. I don’t know if it’s the straining against the ropes are just not having any control. It’s just great. ...

I just got off the phone with the local garbage people. They will drop off my dumpster this afternoon. Here’s my plan, to spend the weekend in it!! I have devised a plan that I think should work pretty good. I purchased from the hardware store 3 cases of 55 gallon trash bags. When I got them home, I gathered up all the old newspapers and worn out clothes and stuff I could find. I have a lot, and more I got from those over-flowing charity box things. So, I spent most of the day today filling up the bags with all of this safe “trash”. By the time supper time came, I had filled about 4 dozen!! ...

Julie stands in the kitchen next to the full trashcan as her roommate Audrey unleashes her anger. Not doing her chores, not contributing to the household, Julie is not listening as the tirade continues, she’s heard this all before. It wasn’t Julies fault. Well, it was, putting out the trash for collection is her chore. Julie had done it again, sitting in a chair staring into the last few days’ kitchen waste deep in fantasy. She had simply lost track of the time. ...

Well the bank Holiday was over, back to work you go. You’re part of the maintenance team tasked with restarting a huge laundry factory. The factory washes all the linen for all the hotels in the state. And as a result constantly needed maintenance every bank oliday. You are one of very few people that worked here. The factory was practically fully automatic besides maintenance and delivering and shipping the laundry. You and your colleagues were just finishing up in the control booth. A tall man named Steven was working away at one of the control panels. “Ok just need to wait another 3 minutes and everything should be back up and running.” said Steven. “Do me a favour and go put the kettle on ready for our break.” he called to you. You did as he asked, also wanting a cup of tea at breaktime. As you’re walking along the catwalk out of the booth, you don’t notice that the cleaner had spilt some soapy water on the catwalk right where it bared left around a corner. ‘Click clack click clack slip ooofff’ As you walked along you went to round the corner and slipped over, sliding on your backside. Straight underneath the handrail and landing in one of the hoppers where the laundry is dumped in off the trucks. Luckily for you the hopper was partly full of linen already. However the reason for it being partly full was because a truck had just pulled in and was now dumping its load straight into the hopper. And you are now buried under the dirty covers and blankets. Meanwhile in the control room, “Righty ho last 10 seconds and we’re good to go!” 10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… “ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE” Suddenly you feel yourself jerked forward, the hopper is moving along a track over to the specific wash area. As you fumble around trying to dig yourself out of the linen, you only manage dig yourself to the bottom of the pile, whilst also getting yourself more tangled up. As the hopper rolls up above one of the many automated sorting systems, you hear a loud clang as it’s held in place by magnets. Suddenly the bottom of the hopper drops out from underneath you, as you and the laundry tumble onto a large wide conveyor belt, as it begins to move forward. As soon as the laundry hit the belt, multiple robotic arms were whizzing over them, sorting all the laundry into various smaller shoots. As one of the arms grabs your legs, lifting you up more quickly to pull off the laundry you’re tangled in, but then they also pull off all of your clothes, throwing them down different shoots. Once you had been stripped naked. you are dropped head first down a shoot labeled “single bed sheets” You land head first into a giant bubbling vat of laundry detergent and other bed sheets. As you pop up for a gasp of air, you see that it isn’t just the vat you’ve got to worry about. Now being lowered into the vat, was what could only be described as a giant wash board. Not only that but it had two drum brushes just as big. They looked like they belonged in a car wash let alone a laundry. Now more arms dropped down into the water, fishing out piece after piece of laundry dropping them on the wobbly wash board, as they were rubbed and brushed into a soapy pile. Suddenly one of the arms plucks you out, dropping you down onto the wash board right as the drum brushes were on the way up. You are caughtt between them, bumpy aluminium on your back and drum brushes on your front, as they went from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head, making sure to scrub everything in between. After being scrubbed all over by the brushes, you are dropped onto another conveyor, and pulled forward under a small camera above the conveyor. Up ahead you can see an arm grabbing random bits of laundry and dropping them onto tables of to the sides of the belt. But oddly enough the arm was only grabbing certain ones. Then one of the sheets in front of you was grabbed and you could see it had a big splash of red wine staining the front of it. Then the arm reaches down grabbing you by the arm and dropping you front side up on the table. No sooner than you were on the table, a shower head above you dropped down just above your neather regions - Squirt! Splat! The shower head had just sprayed your neathers with a huge dollop of stain remover. Now it popped back up to the ceiling and a large rotary brush popped up from the side, spun up to speed and quickly began scrubbing your neathers with its soft nylon bristles. The brush continued to scrub away at your niethers, bring you closer and closer to the edge, the stain remover now becoming a thick bubbly froth. But just as you’re about to cum, the brush lifts up and disappears back where it came from. The shower head drops back down rinsing you off with a bit of water. Mostly to get rid of the frothing bubbles, now your dropped back onto the belt. You’re whisked forward and dropped into another vat, this time filled with water wit a large agitator in the middle. It sloshes you and the other sheets around rinsing you off, before you see a big barrel is dumped over the side of the vat into the water, you see it’s dumping fabric softener into the vat with you. The agitator making light work mixing the softener furiously into the vat. As your sloshed around for another few minutes, before more arm’s reach in and fish you out along with the rest of the laundry as they drop you onto another belt. The belt now ran through a drying chamber where you’re blown from all angles by giant heated fans. By the time you reached the end you were bone dry and your hair was a complete mess. The conveyor continued for a bit longer before more arms reached down and placed the laundry into a large clam shell press. But this wasn’t no ordinary press, this one was designed to both iron out any wrinkles and to also seal the pressed laundry into a plastic bag ready for shipping. As you are picked up and spread out on the clamshell, you’re quickly squeezed between the two parts as you are sprayed with steam. ...

I had been reading these trash stories for some time. Basically they all were made up of the same thing. Either someone put them in with the rubbish or they had tied themselves up in a rubbish bag and had been put out by their partner or friend. The other point of view was that they had put their rubbish bins out and had been taken away by the dustmen. There were a few stories where they had been tormented and didn’t know if they would be left or would be rescued. ...

The sky is just starting to turn blue to the east. I am walking in the warm night with my back pack. The streets are all deserted while people are still sleeping. In two minutes I will reach my goal. The air is warm in this early June morning. I feel a little bit cold in my leggings and light tank top. I walked by the building which house a daycare center, dry cleaner and a convenient store. I look at my watch and it is 04:11 I turn left and walk the path going around. My goal is there, a big blue metal box shinning in the single light at the top of the building. ...

It was turning out to be a normal day like any other in the office, that is until the courier arrived at my desk carrying a parcel. You see I work as a Personal Asssistant to my boss, or secretary in the old terms. He runs a successful engineering & manufacturing business, our office is at the front of the building with the factory located below and behind the main offices. ...

When I was 18 I did a paper round for a local newsagent, with the round always finishing near my old primary school. The school had changed since I had been there and along one side of the school had been built a plastic covered roof supported by metal poles. Whilst doing my Saturday morning round and delivering to my last house, I still had a number of papers left in my bag for my parents and the neighbours, I noticed some people messing around by the side of the building – my dad worked at the school and I knew they had a lot of vandalism at the weekend so I went to see what they were doing. I realised that as I got closer they were people a couple of years below me at school – Jack and James I think their names were that I had had run ins with before. ...

Part 1: First Bauble Dear Emporium Shop Owner, Here is account of my experience as you requested. The marble you gave me manifested a garment for my wife and my pleasure. I lay on the bed, naked, watching my wife holding the garment to her skin. When its impossibly thin and improbably silky texture touched her chest her eyes rolled back into her head and her legs wobbled slightly threatening to make her fall again. You could tell by watching her body react that even the merest touch of the cloth on any part of her sent waves of pure pleasure coursing through her body. I wanted to jump up and help her whenever I saw her will waver but my wife had foreseen this and warned me not to come close to her while she mustered herself to put on the garment. She had said that if she knew I was close or so much as saw me in the mirror that it would probably be enough to break her concentration. She also mentioned that if I touched her to steady her she would probably instantly break down in an orgasmic heap on the floor. I didn’t see a problem with this but she scowled at me knowing what I was thinking, she was after all determined to get the garment on so we could enjoy it together. Whatever it was. ...

continued from part one Part 2 - Reality Bites! Morning came and I awoke to find the bed empty other than the schoolgirl doll laying there, her legs splayed from the night before but no signs of my Master. The sunlight played through the windows and stuck to the floor, I had no idea what the time was but guessed it was still morning. The bed sheets pulled back revealing the doll in all her glory. Still in her school uniform but the skirt raised and the clothing disheveled, left just as her Master had left her the previous night after using her. ...

To set the scene I live in a suburban street by myself, a 32 yr old blonde spinster. I’d describe myself as attractive with an athletic figure, blonde shoulder length hair and blue eyes. I’d had various girlfriends over the last few years but none I’d like to stick with unfortunately. I knew I was a lesbian from about 16 years of age before that type of thing was widely accepted. The house next door had been empty for some time but one August morning a removal truck pulled up outside, followed by a small sports car. A young couple were moving in, both in their mid-twenties. I saw him first, around 5ft 6 with slick backed hair and a phone glued to his hand. I went out to introduce myself and welcome them to the area. “Hi there” I called out but he barely looked at me before nodding briefly and strutting straight past my extended hand. ...

Recycled - Part One I met my girlfriend Lisa some five years ago. We both worked at a local supermarket in Brooklyn, she being a cashier while I was a stock clerk. We hit it off pretty well, friendly like at first; taking lunch and breaks together, riding the same train going home, that sort of thing. It took a couple years before we actually became a couple though, and that only happened through a queer twist of fate. ...

(story continues from Recycled) Recycled: Part 2 I spent a long and restless night bound and gagged and triple wrapped in plastic garbage bags set roughly on the cold, hard floor of the hallway… How had I come to this you might ask? Hell, I was asking that myself, over and over. It had been my idea, truly, though it had not taken much convincing on my part. The bondage part was nothing new of course. My girlfriend, Lisa and I had been playing bondage games for a few years now, ever since we finally discovered that we shared the common desire and fetish. Most generally I was the recipient of her ‘tender’ mercies as I was the one who was more submissive while she often showed that she had crueler, wicked tendencies, at least in our games. Nothing severe mind; Lisa loved having me under her control and power on occasion, and for my part I reciprocated. I loved being tied and got off on the humiliation and embarrassment of being bound and gagged to her whim, then held, sometimes for hours at a time while she walked about our apartment, flaunting her freedom. ...

(story continues from Recycled 2) Recycled: Part 3 Author’s Note: I noticed a couple discrepancies between Parts 1 and 2. Nothing major I suppose, but I wanted to explain. First, the name of the main protagonist shifted from Ken to Kirk between the first two parts. Also, the packing in the victim’s mouth changed from a scarf to crusty socks. I blame this on the fact that I wrote the 2 issues on 2 separate computers. My own fault, in my rush to get the story off, though I read through for grammar, I didn’t read for continuity’s sake. In this part 3 I kept the errors in place as the former did not seem consequential, and the latter actually added to the story. Hopefully it reads well… ...

Lydia returned home from a hard day at work, she worked in an office at the local recycling centre and often found herself working long boring hours. One of the things she looked forward to on her returning home was her flatmate Fiona, who had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. They would often share their secrets to each other, and often these would be of a sexual nature. Fiona had learned of Lydia’s love of being tied up and treated as an object, and had treated her friend to some games as her way to help her relax when she’d come home from work. ...

Rubbergirl & the Balloons by Cadillac Man M/f; latex; enclosure; bagged; cons; X As the scene begins Rubbergirl is sealed between two sheets of heavy clear vinyl which have been glued or sewn together to create a large, clear, fairly airtight bag resistant to stretching. The bag, when flat, is about ten feet long by four feet wide. She is dressed in her trademark suit and inflatable hood, with inflatable mittens over her fisted hands. A hose stretches out from the hood through a port in the bag to facilitate breathing. When Rubbergirl is hooded Vidking brings out the other ingredients for the scene: numerous large, clear, uninflated balloons (like the 36" ones available from Qualatex), and a few pounds of dry ice in a cooler. ...

(story continues from Sacked) SACKED 2. (Second Time Around) Some Basic Background. Due to the expansion of Madam W.C. business, and the need for more space for specialisations, the B.D.S.M only brothel has been relocated, and a new slave accepted into the household. Mai is the House greeter and Clair is the first voluntary slave (And therefore she believes the senior slave) of the house. For further information on their lives and personas see the above title. See ‘Sacked,’ For previous client encounter. ...

Part 1 I worked for a large national catering company. My role I suppose was dogsbody, and I was sent to various new sites and temporary sites all the time. The latest posting was at a mobile staff canteen on-site at the construction of the areas largest new shopping centre. The one thing that I always loved about my job was the amount of waste I would always be around. I knew that even the cleanest appearing places would never be far from the site of a large pile of glistening stuffed black garbage bags. ...

(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. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 5: Tammy gets a Scare) Tales of Green Valley 6: Tammy’s Scary Ride [ When we left Tammy (part 5), she was double bagged, naked and packed into the Green Valley garbage truck and crying because she was really scared. ] As Tammy rode in the truck toward the Disposal Solutions transfer station, she was so scared she was crying. She went over her plan and how it had gone wrong. The worst thing was what she heard just before she was compacted. Her friendly neighbor and regular operator of the garbage truck, a nice guy nicknamed Trash, had phoned in sick. Jimmy, the fill-in truck driver and loader, had not known to look for the yellow scarf tied to her bag. No one would be helping her out when the truck dumped its load of garbage. The chance to fuck Trash in the trash again, was gone too. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 7: An old friend surprises Tammy) Tales of Green Valley # 8: A VERY messy End [A story written by request, as a HORROR STORY! Do not read this unless you have a very strong stomach. FF/f, willing trash, but horrible events and results including HARD vore and DEATH.] Jane was 23, she should have graduated college last June and had told her parents she had. She also said she had found a job locally and would not be coming home. In reality, she had dropped out of college two years earlier and had been working as a waitress at some local places. She had her own apartment, in West End, the poorer industrial part of a big city in Colorado. Her wages barely paid the bills and she had resorted to making a few extra dollars selling herself for the customers to fuck in the storeroom at her last job. Unfortunately, this led to being caught and fired. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 8: A Very Messy End) Tales of Green Valley #9: Trash takes a Vacation Trash is fully recovered from whatever forced him to take a sick day and miss the chance to play with Tammy. He talked to her a couple of days later, after she was back home, her ass was still smarting from the spanking Jack had given her when he had been called to the transfer station to retrieve her after Jimmy had pulled her out of the big compactor. Tammy told Trash she would have to stop playing in the trash, or with him or Jack would, as he put it, leave her in the hands of Tamarra, with no restrictions on what happened. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 4: Performance Review) Tales of Green Valley 5: Tammy gets a Scare Tammy had had some time to get over the embarrassment of being caught letting Trash fuck her in the back of his garbage truck (see Tales of Green Valley 3: Tammy gets Caught ). She heard what his boss Tamarra had threatened, that if she did it again and was caught, that Tamarra just might make Trash dispose of her. Tammy just shook it off as a threat intended to ‘scare her straight’. After all, nobody would knowingly put a living person in an incinerator or shredder, would they? ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 10: If you knew Tammy…) Tales of Green Valley # 11: Fond Memories [ This is the second rare one of four stories from RL, only the names have been changed.. ] Lots of things were changing in Green Valley! I sat on the couch in my house, ok, Jack’s house reading the GV Blog on my tablet and learned how the old Hotel Heaven had been taken over and remodeled. It now had a DANCE CLUB! Some place called Starfields, apparently a modern sound and lighting system in a sort of 50’s Sci-Fi setting with a really complex DJ booth. The whole hotel had been updated inside to look like some of the big chain ones outside the Valley. A well know chain had actually been hired as consultants in the remodeling. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 11: Fond Memories) Tales of Green Valley # 12: Just Walking Home [Inspired by a new friend named Willie] Tammy was walking home from the office. As she turned the corner by the new dance club and headed downhill alongside the little hotel, across the street she noticed the bank was closed. In fact the cleaners and all the other stores were dark. Only the coin laundry was lighted. Since it was almost 6 pm, with the time change, it was already dark. Here in the Valley it always got dark early in the mountain shadows, but now that it was November, night fell really early and it was pitch black. There were no street lights on this hill leading down to the apartments and houses, and if not for the almost full moon, she would have needed the flashlight to stay on the sidewalk. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 13: Last Halloween) Tales of Green Valley # 14: More Memories [ This story is one year after #11 “Fond Memories” This is another story from RL about a year ago and fictionalized a bit. It does not take place in Green Valley and my kinky neighbors don’t have a hot tub - yet. And the names have been changed.. ] The doorbell ran at my home on Friday night at about 8 pm. I wasn’t expecting anyone but I figured it was a neighbor inviting me to come over for a beer. I hoped it was the young couple with the new hot tub. I just love their clothing optional house rules. Now I may be 37 and they are both about 10 years younger, but I do enjoy the way he comes to attention when I strip and get in that tub. His girlfriend usually ducks under water to suck him off, just to prevent him from inviting me to cum sit on his lap. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 2: One Way Trip) Tales of Green Valley 3: Tammy gets Caught Tammy Murfin lives in Green Valley with Jack Morgan, the Director of the Disposal Solutions operations there. She’s not been able to convince him to marry her, but does her best to make sure he wants to keep her around, satisfying all his needs, kinky and otherwise, keeping house and never realizing that he thinks of her as little better than a useful and attractive ‘thing’. Jack travels away from the Valley frequently to meet with the other company executives in the big city on the East side of the Ring Mountains that surround Green Valley. This leaves Tammy with lots of time to indulge her fantasies. ...

Previous Green Valley Tale: Part 12: Just Walking Home Tales of Green Valley #13: Last Halloween (Specially written for the Hallloween Special 2014) Samhain is coming. Ok, you probably just know it as Halloween. It’s a bit more to a witch as its New Year’s Eve. It’s also the time of the year when the veil separating the living from those who have passed is weakest. That means that those of us on the living side can use our knowledge and powers to make contact. And that makes it possible to borrow strength or even enlist the aid of those beyond. And that’s where the trouble starts. As is true in all living creatures with any power to reason, some choose to be good and others choose a darker path. Obviously humans do. But many animals make decisions and behave accordingly. But I am not going to bore you with how all that works. Just wanted you to know that the scary Halloween witches are not all there is. You see, I’m a good witch and a novice at it. I try to use my limited powers and skills to nudge nature to help good people. There are good people on the other side too. Halloween gives the good guys a chance to balance things. Who do you think guided people to turn the mundane Halloween into a time for candy and treats? And got parents to have fun and protect the kids? The GOOD witches, that’s who. Which has not gone over well with the bad ones as you might expect Like most witches, I don’t reveal myself. It’s not Salem, but we do have those who think all witches are bad. I don’t wear a lot of black or a pointed hat. I can’t fly a broom, and although quidditch sounds like fun, I don’t think it’s real. I don’t have a web site or store offering love potions. If you need my help and know and believe in natural magic, like will attract like. And of course a bad witch can spot me fairly easily. It’s the glowing spectral aura and all that. Unfortunately, the bad ones are more of a dark blur, a hole, so if I don’t pay attention it’s easy to miss one, and I am new at this. Karlina fooled me totally. Karlina was a girl I met in college when I considered pledging her sorority. I didn’t join hers, and now I know how BAD that would have turned out. But she stayed friendly and we had a similar schedule and studied together a lot. We drifted apart when I got involved with a French Canadian guy named Henri. I missed it totally, but the bitch thought I had stolen him. She thought my trashbagging kink was how I had hooked him. Totally backwards. He awoke that desire in me. And a lot more desire for sex as well. I learned last year, she was one of those revenge is a dish best served cold types. So last year in early October, Karlina gives me a call. She’s back in school working on an MBA and remembered I had gone to work for Disposal Solutions. She wanted to interview me for her thesis about investing in privately held companies. I had actually recently quit working for Disposal Solutions and become Jack Morgan’s “kept” woman to use to old fashioned term. But he was a manager for the company and we lived in Green Valley, the company town. So I still knew enough or Jack did, to help her. I got her an invitation to visit Green Valley and arranged for her to stay at the old Hotel Heaven. I now understand why she hesitated when she heard that name. I met her train and we had the friendly hug like we used to. Well we had done a lot more than hug during some of those all-nighter study sessions but none of the old exploratory fires were burning, at least for me. We spent that afternoon giving her a tour of Green Valley and the Disposal Solutions facilities. Jack would not be back till tomorrow as he spends a couple of days each week outside the Valley at the company headquarters. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 15: Surprise Party) Tales of Green Valley # 16: Surprise Party, the Aftermath Bill and Susan were talking with James, better known as Minotaur and his girl when Sam and Penny stopped by. It was Saturday, two days after the two girls they had put out as garbage had been picked up and taken off to the landfill. They had learned that Carlos, the usual driver on the route, had been in a wreck and that was why a different truck and driver had come that morning. They had planned for the two bins of garbage to be loaded into a rear loader truck by Carlos, who would have made sure the danger was minimized and let the two girls bound up and bagged like the rest of the garbage escape before they could be dumped in the landfill. The three couples accepted the fact that girls had clearly declared their consent, but regretted the waste of such fun garbage. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 9: Trash takes a Vacation) Tales of Green Valley # 10: If you knew Tammy… [ This is a rare one, the first of four stories from RL, only the names have been changed.. ] Paul Macloud lived in the big city where he had gone to college. He had average grades as business major. He had an average job and an average salary. He drove a 4 year old car and voted like all his neighbors. His girlfriend was, well, average. Paul was bored with his life. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 14: More Memories) Tales of Green Valley # 15: Surprise Party (NB: It does not take place in Green Valley, could be anywhere.) The party started at 9pm and I was just finishing dressing when my doorbell rang. Bill and Susan had come to pick me up. Bill smiled when he saw me in the skimpy bikini top and the really short skirt and dared me to turn around and bend over. I laughed and proved his guess was right - no panties and bending over, with my legs spread apart gave him a great view of my pussy. He reached forward and slipped a finger right inside me. “I see you are already for the party,” he said as Susan grabbed his hand and sucked my juices from his finger. ...

(story continues from Tatianna’s Task! Part 3)_ CHAPTER 6 – CLOSING THE TRAP! For the remaining couple of weeks Amy worked and so did Tati. Supposedly, for her playmates’ sake, she was an investment analyst who worked from home via her computer. In fact, while Amy was sleeping with her wrist and ankle restraints keeping her exactly where Tati wanted her, the industrial espionage expert was out and about finalizing her plans. ...

I watched every single Thursday morning as the garbage truck shuddered to a halt in the service yard next door. I worked in an IT sales company, which was on a main road next to a huge restaurant and drive through complex. That place had bank machines, sit down cafe, off license, the works. It was really handy when you needed something on the way home from work, but it was very dear. ...

(story continues from The Bondage Adventures of Lara Cross 2)_ Part Three Neither Lara nor Gwenn said a word to each other for the three or so minutes it took to simultaneously arrive at the imploding ecstasy of their enforced delirium. Every so often they’d look up to see how the other was doing. The strapped-on, vibrator/dildos and plugs had been set on low oscillation, giving the experience a slow-motion-ness that drove them up the wall, the ceiling, the floor and the ends of their ropes to a degree that convinced Lara she would never have sex again unless her lover was an expert at rope bondage. ...

After weeks of trepidation, even fear, the moment, when it happened was so quick that by the time Anne realised what was happening it was over. The assailant came noiselessly from behind. She was aware of a slightly sweet smell from the rag over her nose and then sank into oblivion. When she came to all her senses bombarded her with complaints or new sensations. She could not see and there was something in her mouth preventing her from crying out but allowing her to breathe. He arms were forced behind her back, her legs folded back on themselves and apart. She could not move any of them. She could not even move her head. She realised that she must be naked. Without sight she was disorientated but she was sure that she was on her front, but apart from some bands of pressure she could feel air currents all around. She must be suspended somehow but how high? It could be a few inches or several feet; there was no way for her to be sure. She let out a plaintive mew that sounded pathetic, even to her. ...

(story continues from The Captive 2: Captivated) Part 3: Quelle Surprise “Let’s go to France,” David had said. “It will make a change.” Anne was unsure. She had hardly ever left her home town let alone the country. She just did not see the need. She had all she wanted where she was and since David had accepted her captive fantasies she had been seeing less, rather than more of the outside world. They had not repeated the full prisoner thing but she had spent many hours in the garage tied up and “tortured” in one way or another. She was happy with her life. Why change it? ...

Chapter One: Just another night… Alai walked down the long corridor leading to his dorm room. He shifted the weight of his bookbag on his shoulder as he fumbled for his keys. It has been a long day, and Alai was glad to be back at his room. As Alai rummaged for his keys, he took a moment to enjoy the slippery feeling of the latex briefs he was wearing as underwear under his jeans. He slid his hand over is thigh discreetly inside his pocket, and then pulled up his keys. Just as he was about to put the key in the lock, he heard a voice call down the hall. ...

Chapter Six: “Pack your bags” Outside, someone unzipped the outer chamber easily, and walked in. They were wearing work clothes, the name of some moving company on them. Chet noticed the sounds from where he was locked he was scared, but the oxygen they had pumped in had made him too high to care. One of the females took cutters to the chain holding him to the floor and Alai. Chet fell back onto the floor, naked save the collar and chain around his neck and blindfold on his head. The woman slit the long black leather glove that held his arms behind his back, and proceeded to wrap his arms separately in some thin black plastic. ...

This is my first story and I’m not sure if I will write anymore unless this is a good one and gets good feedback. The E-mail: Part I You receive an email one day from someone you don’t even know telling you that they are interested in meeting you to fulfil your deepest fantasies. They have read your profile and see that you are in their general area. You decide to reply to ask more information about them and what they had in mind. ...

Part One Kate Amos sat in the dark of the strange house, for the tenth time checking that the bag of materials at her side was still complete. Her watch said it was 2:18 AM and she knew that her prey would be home at any moment. She had never felt more afraid, yet more vibrant in her entire life. The thrill of what she was planning, of her ultimate fantasy being so close, was almost overwhelming. Finally she saw the lights of big pickup truck pulling into the driveway. ...

story continued from chapter two part 2 Chapter II: Married Bliss, Part 3 Author’s note: In the first ‘Perils’ story Rachel’s last name is Browne, so her father’s last name should have been Browne. Instead of referring to my story notes I relied on memory, which never ends well for me, and referred to Rachel’s father as Mr. Meadows in ‘Perils II’. Because it was only mentioned once in the first story, the last name of Rachel and her father will be Meadows. I apologize for any confusion. ...

My girlfriend has known for some time that I enjoy being tied up. I really enjoy the feeling of plastic next to my skin so I was able to encourage her to wrap me up with plastic food wrap. This of course leads to all sorts of fun and interesting activities. We added different routines to our extracurricular activities such as gags, cock-rings, etc. To my surprise one night, after she had wrapped me up, instead of using her panties, sock or a bag to gag me with she produced what I can only describe as a gag-dildo. Wow what a night. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 4) Chapter 5: Conflicting Emotions “Just where do you think you’re going young lady?” Less than two yards away, leaning against the wall, stood Dolores. Cathy froze. In her single-minded quest to exit the bathroom, she had failed to look further ahead for any potential hazards that might be blocking her route. Dolores sighed, disappointedly. “You really do like making life difficult for yourself, don’t you Cathy? I deliberately left you here all alone to see if you’d try something stupid, or whether you’d finally learnt that disobedience will always get you into trouble. I was hoping it was the latter, but I now see that my trust in you is misplaced. Looks like you need another lesson in discipline.” ...

Part 1: The Way It All Began It’s starting to get hot and the smell of all these soiled diapers is making me sick. I’m bound in a 95-gallon trash bag at the bottom of a 6 cubic yard rollaway dumpster in the back of a sorority house. My arms and legs are bound with handcuffs, the modified ring gag holds my mouth open, and for the first time I’m scared that Haley is going to go through with her threat. ...

First I have to tell you that I really, really love bondage, my husband also likes to tie me up and I like being tied up by him, it is something that I never expected to happen, well not until I met my husband that is and we began experimenting. I found out that I really like my bondage when I’m tied up helplessly and left bound for an extended period of time, I like to call it ‘stewing’ left to slowly simmer away, not necessarily climaxing or even being teased and tormented, but left bound as little more than an object. ...

(story continues from The Trash Wife) Part 2: My Reward The week had been particularly stressful, the business we run has had several large orders to complete in a hurry, this involved a lot of hours and work from the people we employ and me as the accounts manager responsible for all the paperwork side. Great for the company - but a busy time for me. I managed to get the paperwork done by Friday lunchtime and the orders were shipped that day to the clients, I was pleased that everything went smoothly and now that the orders were done we could go home. All the staff were happy when I told them that they could go once the orders were shipped, so most of the staff took off with the last one leaving about 3pm. ...

Book 1 : Trashing her Worthless Boyfriend I love trash. I don’t know why, but ever since I was a child, the idea of being thrown out and taken away by the garbage truck has always stirred feelings inside me that I didn’t understand, until I grew up. The idea of being discarded as trash was my biggest dream. Especially if I was thrown out by someone I knew. Maybe my girlfriend. ...

(story continues from The Trashy Adventures of David and Christine 1: Trashing her Worthless Boyfriend) Book 2: The Training of a Trash Whore I learned three things while in the back of that truck with Jennifer. One, Trash sex is the best sex. I’ve never had so much sex in one sitting, and Jennifer made sure I was put to good use. From suffocating me in garbage while she used a strap on, to making me wear a diaper full of garbage, Jennifer knew how to keep things interesting. ...

(story continues from The Trashy Adventures of David and Christine 2: The Training of a Trash Whore) Book 3: Jennifer’s Revenge “David? Hey, earth to David?” The slightly older girl waves her hand in front of my face and I snap back to reality, startled out of my reverie. I turn to look at her and smile sheepishly, a little embarrassed at having spaced out. The woman is in a blue nurses uniform, much like the rest of us, with long blonde hair pulled up into a pony tail. Kinda cute, but no match for my Christine. ...

(story continues from The Trashy Adventures of David and Christine 3: Jennifer’s Revenge) Book 4: Christine’s Party “David, can you take take out the trash for me before we go?” I look up from my spot on the couch, instantly setting my newspaper down. Within moments, the rather heavy cans of garbage are on the curb. I stand there a moment, reminiscening about the time I was amongst those cans. Oh what an experience. ...

(story continues from Trapped in the Dumpster 4: The First Playtime) Thanks to Doctor Vader for his helping hand. Continued from Part Four Part 5: Playtime at the Beach Our first playtime was amazing. Not because I blacked out as he took care of my mouth. It was because he showed me, how much fun it could for my skin to be wet and slippery all over, inside a trash bag. Sure, by the time I got out, I was very thirsty from the near to the full powered heater. And the vibrator didn’t pleasure me enough to make me cum. He only used it to keep me awake and make me aware of the slipperiness in my bag. ...

(story continues from Trapped in the Dumpster 5: Playtime at the Beach) Thanks to Doctor Vader for his helping hand. Continued from Part Five Part 6: Another good use for Saran Wrap Two whole months had passed since our last real encounter with trash bags. I can remember the day. We were at the beach, and there he had sealed me bound and gagged inside a trash bag. Before that he’d covered me with leftover food and drinks. To my shock he left me inside my trash bag at the beach. I was a bit afraid, that he wouldn’t came back for me. And my fear grew as I heard footsteps outside and someone moaned about those stupid people, who had disposed of their trash at the beach. Then I felt movement on my bag and it was opened. I’d barely moved myself, but then I saw his face smiling down at me. ...

Here I was thinking I was hot stuff. I’d turned 18. I was a senior. I had been accepted to college. There was one month of school left and hell, I was sailing through my final classes. I was invincible. I was eating lunch with my friend when a glob of pudding landed in front of me. Raucous laughter erupted from the other end of the table. I saw one of my classmates still holding the spoon used to catapult it at me. ...

Part 1: Arrival “No.” The answer came suddenly, almost before Jessica had finished her question. She snapped her mouth closed after she realized her jaw had dropped at being denied so abruptly. Jessica Moon was a reporter for a local magazine in Nappa Valley; she had just finished her degree in journalism and had taken the job with a great deal of excitement. All of that had slowly begun to drift away as she felt that many of the stories she was given were simply being recycled; she found her work to be little more than a gossip rag for the area, but the gossip was so bland it was all but expected. Then she had heard words of a reclusive woman who had one of the larger estates out towards the countryside, a woman who exercised some kind of kinky domination thing. ...

Steve and Monica met each other in a local bar. They talked for a couple of hours, getting to really know each other. After a while they felt their own urges building up inside them. Wanting a release, Steve made the first move, “Would you like to go back to my place for a while, maybe kick back and watch a movie?” Steve, feeling he had finally conquered a rejection problem he had for a while, got a very unexpected answer. ...

We had both been working hard all week so we decided that we would spend the whole weekend in rubber. Sarah was feeling pretty hot and couldn’t stop playing with a latex surgical glove she had in her hands. She ran it though her fingers then pulled it over her hand, stretching it down to as far as her elbow - then Snap! She let it go and it shot back to her wrist. The glove moulded to her hand like a second skin, coating it in shiny translucent latex. Then she looked up. I’ve seen that look in her eyes before… and I know I’m in for a treat! I wondered what she had in mind? ...