<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Binned on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/binned/</link><description>Recent content in Binned on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 21 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/binned/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>I Promised You</title><link>/stories/2012/01/21/i-promised-you/</link><pubDate>Sat, 21 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/01/21/i-promised-you/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;“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.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>It's Trash Day</title><link>/stories/2005/11/05/its-trash-day/</link><pubDate>Sat, 05 Nov 2005 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2005/11/05/its-trash-day/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;It&amp;rsquo;s trash day,&amp;rdquo; she says, and I&amp;rsquo;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&amp;rsquo;m nude, she leads
me into the kitchen, kissing me on the way there with a grin.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;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&amp;rsquo;m not going anywhere.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>