Buried on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Buried in Sand

Sat, 09 May 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Sleep evades me.

Like the night before Christmas when you were a child, hoping that Father Christmas had come and bought you just what you wanted.

Except it wasn’t quite like that. This was no toy train set that I wanted, this had been a fantasy, a desire, a longing, for many years that I can remember. This time it was different.

The research had been done. A quiet place in the sand dunes on the East Coast, where there weren’t too many visitors, hardly any. But still with the added frisson that we might be discovered. I also had Mistress there to keep me safe. We had been through all the consent and agreed what to do. As this was the first time out of what I hoped would be many, I didn’t want to take it too far.

Bound Beneath the Sands

Sun, 09 Nov 2025 00:00:00 +0000

How We Found Our Mutual Burial Fetish

What started out as a bit of harmless fun fooling around at the beach while on holiday, turned into a fetish that both myself and my husband began to explore and enjoy, and revealed some of our secret, hidden fantasies to each other, that I enjoyed being buried and that he got great delight from burying me. It fitted in with me being more submissive in nature and him more willing to take control, he was always the more dominant one in our relationship, which was fine with me, and I was happy with letting him take charge.

Bound in a Suitcase

Tue, 04 Nov 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Part 5: Jeff’s New Slave

My relationship with my husband Blake had changed it seems, at first we had just played with me bound and sealed away inside of my suitcase, and after finding me one day he had joined in and we both had fun with him using me for sex after storing me away, first under the bed, then in a cupboard and we progressed from there. Each time I felt more and more submissive towards him, and even allowed him to share me with his friend Jeff after revealing to him my secret fetish, much to our mutual delight.

Deep Down in the Depths of Servitude

Mon, 21 Jul 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Foreword

When the paths of a strong and practiced BDSM Dominant and an adventurous and willing but green submissive collide, the result can be a fantastic and wild playdate, but it can also turn into a challenging, risky, and reckless one. Some would call what I allowed to be done to me as outright stupid. They are probably right. What follows is a journal transcribed into story style that details a five-day ‘submissive rental’ from my part-time best friend, part-time master aka Sir Michael to his BDSM Dominant buddy, Dr. D in Vegas in late October 2024.

Leon City Stories

Fri, 30 May 2025 00:00:00 +0000

30: The Sarah Games

Jenkins estate, outside Leon City

Sarah opened the sarcophagus and it hissed softly as oxygen flowed into it from under the lid. Immediately she could hear her two guests take a deep breath and start coughing.

“Welcome home,” Sarah whispered in amusement and threw the lid aside, which fell to the floor with a loud bang. Ava and Summer, who were still squashed in the sarcophagus, winced in shock. Ava in particular groaned loudly as the bruises from the abduction began to hurt.

Evil Eva

Sun, 22 Dec 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Part 10

I followed behind her, trying to keep up as best I could and keep the chain slack. However, Eva seemed to delight in walking faster than I could manage with my chained ankles, eliciting squeals from me every time she pulled hard on the nipple chain. It was very painful, and I was glad when we reached dungeon number one, although I was dreading what was to come. As we entered, I saw Lara standing in the middle of the room on tip toes, her arms stretched high above her head and her wrist chain attached to a point on the ceiling. Gina stood next to her with a sadistic grin on her face.

Beach Dreams

Sun, 08 Dec 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Tell me a story, Maggie?

She describes an erotic sexual encounter at the beach. My cock stirs at the ideas she fills my head with. Sadly I am at work and this is highly inappropriate, but I can’t help but soak up every word. After she describes me filling her with my cum, she goes on with some additional details.

“Then I produce a shovel and began to dig in the sand near you. It takes until early evening for that hole to grow seven feet down. Helpless to do anything but obey, you slide into the hole. Sand quickly closes the hole to your shoulders, pinning your hands and arms to your sides. There is a snorkel and a mask. It is clear what I plan to do. You saw the night moon just as sand blocked the diving mask. You hear the rest of the sand fall into place. There is the sound of me tapping down all the sand, making your location invisible but for the snorkel. “

Cheryl's Coffin

Sun, 03 Nov 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Wasn’t the best start to her Halloween. Turned away from the party because she wasn’t in fancy dress! A fuming youngster seeing some of her college friends all being allowed in, Jessie, Monica and Dawn. All wearing daft blood-spattered dresses while hers, a simple plain white calf-length one and matching heels that she’d hoped would make her appear like a ghost wasn’t good enough.

Slightly comforted however at getting a text from her best friend Julia or Jules, who was supposed to be here but she too had been turned away along with her boyfriend. Had the girl been on her own Cheryl might have suggested they meet up. ‘OK, see you at College on Monday 1000. Jules xxx’

Lara Croft: Final Tomb Raid

Sat, 07 Sep 2024 00:00:00 +0000

“If you would please sign here, Lady Croft.” The delivery driver said, handing her a clipboard. Lara Croft signed for the package, a white cardboard box roughly the size of a DVD player. He handed it to her as she returned the clipboard, and then with a polite smile and a nod, he returned to his truck and drove away.

Lara walked back into the manor house and went immediately to her study. She set the box on her desk and examined the shipping label. Strangely, there was no return address. Could it be a bomb? That seemed unlikely. If the package contained explosives, the new security sensors she had installed at the manor would’ve detected them and raised an alarm. Still, might there be some reason to be concerned about what might be inside?

The Directrix's Day at Bondage Beach

Sun, 01 Sep 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Jeanette was out for a day at the beach, but it felt like she was trudging through the desert. Every step was agonizingly hot. Her captor had said that the beach was right there - just a few meters from where she’d gotten out of a luxuriously-appointed aeroyacht. Jeanette squinted through the shimmering heat haze, desperately searching for any sign of the beach that her captor had promised her. But there was nothing but endless stretches of scorching sand as far as the eye could see. The sun beat down on her relentlessly, turning her skin a fiery red and making her head throb.

Bury Me Please

Sat, 15 Jun 2024 00:00:00 +0000

9 - The football match

For almost a year after the first concrete burial Jenny was happy with doing what had by now become normal. She would be buried (under soil, not concrete) for anything up to a day, she would volunteer to be sealed in the floor display at the sex club, she would be locked in a plastic crate which was sometimes taken for a drive out to Claire’s farm or just left under the bed for a few hours, or be screwed into the wooden crate filled with foam. On quite a few of those occasions they ended up having sex with Mike and Liz, either in two’s, three’s or even foursomes. And on a couple of occasions she would spend several days under the shed with a fresh layer of concrete over her, with Christmas being her longest burial yet at five days.

Bury Me Please

Sat, 15 Jun 2024 00:00:00 +0000

10 - All good things…

Things continued for a good few months with Jenny regularly getting boxed or buried, occasionally being the centre of attention in the floor at the sex club, and even on special occasions getting buried and covered with a layer of concrete, but at the same time Dave noticed that she seemed to be getting more clumsy and less coordinated over time. Thinking back, she had been for well over a year, so decided that she needed to see her doctor.

Bury Me Please

Sat, 08 Jun 2024 00:00:00 +0000

8 - A concrete plan

As had happened before, having a more extreme adventure seemed to satisfy Jenny for some time, during which the less extreme games continued (and it’s odd that being buried under the shed is considered to be in the ’less extreme’ category). Mike and Liz still came round some times to indulge in either burying Jenny, strapping her to the floor boards, or locking her in either the plastic crate or the wooden box. She also continued to put her name down to go in the floor display at the club although she didn’t always get picked, and even had a second session under the wooden floor boards during a standard nightclub evening. Eventually though, Dave knew that she would be craving something new so had checked her browsing history to get an idea of what sort of thing she might find exciting. He found that she had been reading more stories about being buried, where a concrete floor was laid above the victim. Sometimes this was supposed to be permanent, but other times part of the fun was that it would take time for the floor to set, and then more time to break it open enough to retrieve the victim.

Bury Me Please

Sun, 02 Jun 2024 00:00:00 +0000

6 - A public(ish) burial

Over the next few months, Liz and Mike got to help with putting Jenny in various boxes and burying her on a number of occasions.

She did some more of the sex club events where she went into the floor display box, sometimes with the shackles and other times without. Without shackles, it left her able to play with her pussy while others danced and watched and she would inevitably bring herself off several times during the hour, while those occasions with the shackles usually meant she had a vibrator stuck in her pussy for the entire time, sometimes managing to come just from the situation as the vibe was usually only set on low. The one time they left the vibe on high power she almost blacked out with the number of orgasms she had and had to be picked up and carried away from the box at the end of her hour. She couldn’t monopolise the box though, as pretty much every month saw several other people that wanted to spend time in there as well. The whole concept had been a great success and the bingo machine was called into play quite regularly to ensure fairness.

Bury Me Please

Sun, 02 Jun 2024 00:00:00 +0000

7 - Out in the open

Jenny had thoroughly enjoyed her burial at the club, and it was made even more enjoyable when Mike gave her a copy of the video he had secretly taken of her being buried and then exhumed. She had spent many an hour playing with herself while watching that video when Dave was at work and she was at home. She also got to know Julie and her husband Frank at the next couple of club nights, as they had been at the burial as well and also had an interest in extreme bondage. Liz and Mike still came around for some of the burials that Jenny had under the shed as well and sometimes they used either the plastic crate or Mike’s box with the foam to restrain Jenny without actually burying her (as it was a lot less work), so for a few months things seemed to be fairly settled.

Bury Me Please

Sun, 26 May 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Dave and Jenny had recently found that Jenny really wanted to try being buried in the garden, and Dave was equally keen to bury her (just for a short time). But they had found that she needed to be buried in a box rather than just have the earth piled in on top of her, as she was worried about being able to breath with anything heavier than a couple of inches of loose sand.

Bury Me Please

Sun, 26 May 2024 00:00:00 +0000

5 - The visitors

After the events at the club where Jenny had been trapped in a box and then shackled to the floor of the pit while everyone else danced above her, she decided that while being buried was her ultimate turn-on, being restrained in a way that she couldn’t get out of was the next best thing. Once they had got home, she and Dave had a long chat about it before going to bed. The net result was that being buried would continue to be something that they would only do now and again, simply because it was the ultimate and they didn’t want to make it something commonplace. And then in between burials, they would explore more around being restrained or confined, like the session in the box with foam cutouts to keep her immobile. The obvious thing to try would be variations on that.

Bury Me Please

Sun, 26 May 2024 00:00:00 +0000

3 - The nightclub

Dave and Jenny had been having fairly regular fun with Jenny being buried under the garden shed every few weeks. They didn’t want to do it too often, as it would have taken some of the fun away from it, so they kept it for those special weekends when neither of them had anything else planned and when they knew that neither set of parents would be coming around. After a while, Jenny wanted to try going for a whole day, so they got hold of some catheters and waste bags and experimented with using those, along with having a drinks bottle with a long flexible straw to keep Jenny hydrated. They also got a fitness tracker that would allow Dave to monitor her pulse from either his phone or his laptop, and it even showed if she was sleeping, so he didn’t have to worry as much if she stopped moving around. Using these, Jenny eventually worked her way up to staying buried for a full 24 hours, although the first time they did that Dave seemed to be in more of a mess when she came out than Jenny was. He hadn’t slept at all despite having the tracker set to alert him if her pulse went too low.

Bury Me Please

Sat, 18 May 2024 00:00:00 +0000

1 - It started at the beach

Dave and Jenny were a successful couple who while not filthy rich were certainly very well off. They had been married for a couple of years and their sex life had been great. Both had said that they weren’t going to hide their fantasies from each other and as a result they had tried a good few things. Some they found great fun, but not everything. However, they both agreed that it was better to try something and not like it than to not try things and maybe regret it later.

Trixie or the WG

Fri, 06 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Part 4

Chapter 22 The Gear

Although Trixie’s back was hurting quite a bit, that was of course no excuse for not going to work the following morning, for instance. Beate had, however, smeared her back again that morning with an ointment and given her a painkiller. She had also given Trixie another tablet to take around noon.

That morning, she reported to the head of the department, a Mr. Schmidt, in the design department, who was already expecting her. He introduced her to the staff of his department and finally handed her over to one of his employees, Mr. Steffen, who was to explain the first basic features to her. Trixie had already seen in the previous week how complex the systems were that were produced in this company. But now she was surprised by the fact that the individual components of these systems were each much more complex than she had expected. Devices that were added to a project in the project department with just a few mouse clicks often consisted of countless, sometimes tiny individual parts.

Keyholder Demoness

Sun, 02 Apr 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Book 2

Chapter 01

A gibbous moon illuminates the mountains and valleys below. Its light only shines through the canopy of evergreen in brief patches. Somewhere, in the dark spaces between, chains are rattling. There is a rhythm to the sound. Soon the chains are accompanied by grunting, and another voice panting. Occasionally a muffled moan.

There is a voice - soft, melodic - broken occasionally by pops and clicks.

Buried at the Beach: Never Too Much

Sun, 26 Mar 2023 00:00:00 +0000

He walked into the bedroom in the morning light. She was on her knees, hands splayed forward on the bed, stretching for all the world like a giant cat. Her back arched and her buttocks proudly displayed, her perhaps too long hair spilling over the edge of the bed, despite her being in the center.

“Hello, dear,” he said, striding to the dresser and sliding open its top drawer. “I have a gift for you.”

Tighter

Sun, 19 Feb 2023 00:00:00 +0000

“How much space does a person need to live, do you think?”

Leon frowns lightly and puffs his cheeks. “Minimum? About 1500 square feet? A lounge or two, bedroom, en suite, dressing room, sauna …”

I smack the back of his head, knowing that he understood my meaning perfectly well.

“What is the absolute minimum to survive for days, weeks even? I could easily live in a wardrobe, I am sure, if I was fed and there was a way to use the toilet. I could stand up and stretch when needed, only lying down would be difficult.”

Denise In A Tight Spot

Tue, 10 Jan 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Part Two

Working in an old castle definitely had some good points, the team that I work with is fun, well most times when they behave themselves, wandering hands sometimes find their mark if you catch my drift. But it can be a cold, damp, and chilly environment, especially having spent two weeks being part of the dungeon display, I was looking forward to having some much-needed time out from the dungeon, with the warmth of the late summer sun on my face.

Sleeping With The Wrong Man

Thu, 27 Jan 2022 00:00:00 +0000

“Hey there sexy, come on in!” said Marcus.

“How long have we got?” asked Chloe as she walked through the door.

“Should have about four hours before Kirsten gets back. She’s out for the afternoon” responded Marcus, closing the door behind Chloe.

“Brilliant! I’ve missed you, you sexy thing!” said Chloe, wasting no time in wrapping her arms around Marcus.

“I’ve missed you too baby! Love my little bit of blonde on the side!” said Marcus cheekily as he whisked Chloe away to the bedroom.

Shawna and Joyce - Weekend Burial

Sat, 04 Dec 2021 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 1: The Discovery

Joyce and Shawna had been living at their new-England home for a few years. These old turn-of-the-century houses always seemed to hold architectural surprises, from the little tower room in the attic and now to the basement, where a recent restoration of the basement pantry had revealed an old sealed-off stone walled cellar room.

Entry into the secret room went through a short stone-arched walkway and a heavy cast-iron door, which was hidden behind some paneling and shelves in the pantry. Upon discovery, the ladies squealed with delight, realizing the potential of another playroom in the old house. The room was dirt floored and very grimy with cobwebs everywhere, but they set out to clean it out.

The Stox Box

Fri, 04 Jun 2021 00:00:00 +0000

The Stox Box

Preparations

“This is quite a change from what you’re used to. You sure you’re ready for it?” My friend voiced a legitimate concern, but I wasn’t worried. True, it was outside what might be considered my comfort zone but in concept it wasn’t all that far afield from my usual bondage pursuits. Sometimes one has to expand horizons to fully appreciate the myriad of experiences one might otherwise miss out on due to excessive caution and, well, fear, though I never thought of myself as the type to cower in terror under my bed when confronted with something new and different.

Noisy Neighbour

Mon, 30 Nov 2020 00:00:00 +0000

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.

Alice's Halloween Adventure

Wed, 28 Oct 2020 00:00:00 +0000

Heading into the darkness as midnight approached, Alice Tunrida slipped a photograph, a piece of paper and a handwritten map of a cemetery into her white rabbit purse. It was Halloween, the night every year that Rolf Pfluger’s death metal band played in her hometown of Detroit.

The taxi driver resembled a cartoon character, his head swiveling wildly, as he spotted Alice waiting on the sidewalk outside her apartment. Alice rarely wore a costume on All Hallow’s Eve and never had worn a sexy one until now.

The Body in the Basement

Sun, 12 Jul 2020 00:00:00 +0000

“What is it, Reynolds?”

“They found bones, Boss. While demolishing the foundations of The Sphynx. Definitely human, Doctor Gomez says.”

“A dead man under a Vegas casino? Not very original.”

The Sphynx was one of the original old casinos on The Strip, built during the Mob era. If you believe all the stories from that time, their foundations are a 50-50 mix of human bodies and concrete.

“Tell’m I’ll be there in 15 minutes”

He Said, She Said

Mon, 06 Apr 2020 00:00:00 +0000

Continues from part one

Part Two Although I expected her to come again for more, I could hardly contain my excitement when the plans were set. Our last tie up session was nothing short of incredible. I dreamed about it over and over. After hog-tying her, I “accidentally” pulled the string on her string bikini at the back of her neck. It almost fell off, but she said nothing. I tried to make pulling the bow at the back look like an accident but whether it was an accident or not didn’t seem to matter to her. She seemed to expect a bikini like hers to “fall off” in this kind of situation. With it practically lying on the floor, I commented to her that she really was not using it anymore so I might as well remove it. Rather than agreeing or disagreeing she pointed out that the bows on the sides of the bottoms were all that held the bottoms on too. How would you react to that? After completely removing the top half, I went for the little bows on the bottoms and pulled on them as a sort of experiment to see what would happen. Pulling on the waistband over her butt made it clear that the bikini bottoms were falling off too. When she rocked onto her side it pretty well fell off. — I knocked at the door and as he opened it I gave him a big hug and kissed him. He seemed embarrassed at this affection at his front door and quickly closed the door. With two bottles of Pepsi we sat on his living room floor. I told him how awesome our last ‘date’ was and I wanted to do it again even more intensely than the last. He had trouble thinking of what he could do more than last time. What more could he do than hog-tie me naked. I said the hog-tie can be tighter and I said I wanted him to put me outside in the snow. He looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was but I repeated to him again that I wanted to be hog-tied naked in the snow. I told him that from my snow experience last week, I knew I could take the snow and being tied up I would have no choice. I would depend on him to rescue me when he wanted (I wondered how long that might be, but decided that would be up to him.). The hog-tie had to be a tighter and stricter hog-tie than last time, so tight that I could not move. I was so excited that I stripped naked and looked at him and asked where his ropes were. — When she told me what she wanted I could not believe my ears and when she took her clothes off, I could barely believe my eyes. I headed off like a zombie in search of my ropes. While in the garage gathering the ropes I took a few deep breaths and told myself to snap out of it. She was serious about this and I had to be too. I came up to the living room ropes in hand and focused on the job that fate had handed me. This was going to be great! As I started binding her elbows she insisted again that it had better be tight. I wrapped the rope tight above her elbows so that her elbows were crushed together and then wrapped the rope tight around her arms, up toward her shoulders. As I continued to wrap her upper arms were nearly touching behind her. This forced her shoulders back in what I was sure was tighter than she had ever experienced before. I then took another rope and bound her forearms together and cinched it even tighter. This tie started 3 or 4 inches above her wrists so there was no way her fingers could get near it. She twisted around to try and see my handiwork and seemed quite satisfied that it was tight enough. I asked her to climb up onto a table and lay on her belly to make the hog-tie easier and she willingly obliged. I tied and cinched her ankles then found an anchor point just behind her neck. I looped the rope around her ankle tie and back to the anchor point giving me a complete loop from anchor point to ankles and began to pull in the rope. At first it was easy, but got harder as her ankles went past her wrists. As her back arched more and more her hands past her crotch between her legs. With her feet about two inches from the anchor point I took the surplus rope and wrapped it around the rope between her ankles and anchor and tied it off. Her arms were so close to her calves that it seemed like they were asking to be tied together, so that’s what I did. I took one last piece of rope and used it as a tie around her legs near her knees. This had the effect of tying her hands between her legs. I asked her if it was tight enough for her and she admitted that she didn’t think it could be any tighter. I offered to try to tighten something but she quickly declined my offer. Next I confirmed again that she wanted to be dumped in the snow. Again she said yes and asked me to hurry before she changed her mind. I suggested that I could gag her so that she could not chicken out at the last minute. She answered that she was determined to go through with this so a gag was not necessary. I retorted by asking why she was against it if it was not going to make any difference. She was anxious to get outside, so she relented. Now I had to find a gag. I rounded up a scarf and used it, wrapping it around at least three times and tied it off in the back. I said that now we were ready and she nodded in agreement. I opened the back patio door then picked her up and carried her outside. The night winter was cold for me. I could only imagine it was freezing for her since she wore only the ropes I had used to tie her up. As I stepped out I realized that I was wearing only socks on my feet. In seconds the snow soaked the bottoms of my feet and I might as well have been walking barefoot on ice. I turned to the side of our deck where the recent storm had left a snowdrift at least six feet deep. Without waiting for a reaction from her I held her over the soft drift and dropped her into the snow. She dropped less than a foot from my arms to the snow, but it was a very soft landing as she sank easily two feet into the powder snow. She sank well below the top surface of the snow and came to rest about half on her side. I could see her upturned face at the bottom of the hole in the snow and all she could do was mumble through her gag. At the bottom of her hole nobody in the surrounding houses could see her so she was safe from unwanted voyeurs. As I looked down at her helpless bound body half buried in the snow I thought to myself, why not finish the job and bury her completely. Could she really get much colder if she was covered in snow? I remembered mentioning last weekend that the next time she went in the snow I would make sure she was buried well and this was my chance. With my feet half frozen, I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it. I grabbed the snow shovel that leaned beside the back door and took a shovel full of snow from the deck and dropped it on top of her in the hole. It was soft snow like the drift she was lying in but that didn’t stop her from screaming when it hit her. I thought I heard her say “what the hell” but by then I was dumping the second shovel full of snow into her hole. This one covered her head. With the hole pretty well filled in I told her that I was going inside to get dry socks and that I would be out to get her when I was properly dressed for winter. As I closed the door, instead of hearing some kind of plea for rescue, all I heard was something that sounded like “fuck” from deep under the snow. — I had asked for tight bondage and that is certainly what I got from the start. He bound my elbows together behind my back like he has done before and I was used to him simply cinching it off, but instead he continued to wrap up my arms forcing them close behind my back and nearly dislocating my shoulders. Then he bound my forearms together. I had a lot of mobility in my wrists and hands but it was impossible to get at any of the knots. By the time he had finished the forearm tie my shoulders were getting used to the awkward twisting behind my back. He asked me to lie down on the table, which wasn’t easy with my arms trussed up. He helped me lie down on my belly and groped my breasts at the same time. I guess that is to be expected if you are tied up and naked. The table felt cold on my breasts and belly and I began to wonder how I would be able to deal with the freezing cold of the snow. He tied my ankles together and then had me bend them upward. His rope went from my ankles to just behind my neck and then he started to pull in the hog-tie. As it got tighter my back arched more and more and my tied hands slid down past my ass. I think he stopped when me feet were within inches of my head and tied off the rope. I had never seen as strict a hog-tie before, though it wasn’t really a hog-tie in its actual definition. That’s because my hands and feet were not tied together. Then he wrapped a rope tightly between my arms and legs. This forced my back to arch a little bit more as my arms were pulled away from my back. No good tie would be complete without cinching and this tie was completed with a good tight cinch. As if that wasn’t enough to immobilize me, he took one last rope and wrapped it tightly, of course, around my thighs and trapped my hands, which were now tucked between my legs, into the tie. My hands were caught between my legs that were wrapped in rope. I was beginning to think the rope would keep me warm while outside. He wanted to gag me and after some persuasion on his part, I relented. A minute later my mouth was stuffed with somebody’s scarf. Being gagged takes away your ability to communicate so you are completely at the mercy of your captor and that became so clearly obvious once we got outside. Next was to get outside in the snow! He picked me up and stepped out onto his back deck. The deck light was on and it lit up all the surrounding snow. I guess I was lit up too, but my mind was too busy battling with my body’s reaction to the blast of cold air. I looked around a bit and spotted a few spots on the deck where he could put me down for my quick snow experience. You see, I expected to be placed in the snow somewhere on the deck, like on the patio table. That way I could easily be picked up again when he thought I had enough. That’s not at all what happened. He carried to the edge of the deck muttering something about how cold it was on his feet, held me over the railing and to my horror, just dropped me. The second that I was in free fall was terrifying. I thought I was going to hit head first into a rock hard snow bank and with my hands and feet tied up; there was nothing I could do. Here is where the communication that was taken away with the gag, might have been able to change things. In the end I hit leading with my right shoulder into the softest snow I could ever have hoped for, but the snow, being frozen water, was freezing cold. I knew how cold it would be from the previous week’s experience, but there is no way to get used to the initial shock. I came to rest half on my side with my head deeper into the snow than my knees. I turned my head up and could see that I had sunk about a foot and a half into the snowdrift, or maybe a bit deeper. I could see him high above me peering into my hole and the only thing that came to my mind was how the hell was he going to get me out. All of a sudden he disappeared from my narrow line of sight and I began to panic. What if he leaves me here? I didn’t think I could survive in this freezing predicament for even a minute so his disappearance had me frantic. But as quick as he had left he returned and I was quite relieved to see him again. Then all of a sudden I see him with a big shovel overflowing with snow. I never imagined that he would dump the load of snow on top of me. We had never talked about being buried! The gag made any sort of discussion of this impossible too. With my head deeper into the snow than the rest of me, even shaking my head no could not be noticed. Before I could even react, he dropped it all on me. It completely covered me to the middle of my back and seemed to pretty well fill my hole in and now I was encased in snow. Just when I thought he had accomplished the worst, he appeared over the railing with a second shovel full of snow and this one he held right over my head! I was in horror that he might drop the snow on my head and bury me alive in a snowdrift. A second later that is exactly what he did and there was nothing I could do about it. At the last split second I took a gasp of air and closed my eyes. The snow did not actually hurt because it was all powder snow but it was so cold that I took in another gasp. So at the first moment of my burial I learned that I could actually breath through the snow. I opened my eyes and discovered that I could see a bit of light through the snow too. I heard a muffled voice say something about His feet being cold and a few moments it all went black. I’m guessing that he turned off the deck light. So there I was, buried alive in a snowdrift naked and tied up without the slightest hope of getting free. In my freezing cocoon of white all I could do was wait for him to come back, assuming he would come for me! The seconds dragged on into minutes and the minutes felt like hours. I wondered when hypothermia would set in. I read somewhere that as long as you were shivering you were not hypothermic and I was shivering all over, so I took that as a good sign. Now all I could do was wait to be rescued. — As I stepped inside I turned off the outside light, pulled off my freezing and wet socks and then headed to the bathroom to jack off. In less than two minutes that was all over, literally. After a quick cleanup I started to get ready to “recover the body”. I grabbed several towels, tossed a few in the dryer and took the rest to the living room. Two were spread on the table where I expected I would be putting her down. I ran around the house finding boots, snow pants, a coat and gloves. It would be stupid for me to go back out not properly dressed. I got dressed for the outdoors and headed out to rescue my freezing damsel in a lot of distress… She had been dropped into a snowdrift that was at least five feet deep, but the snow all around the deck was at least three feet deep. Walking around the deck through the deep snow to where she was hiding was hard enough on my own. Coming back with her in my arms would prove to be much harder. As I came around the deck, plodding through the snow, I called out “Where are you?” All I could make out was a desperate mumble. I started scooping the snow away, digging to find her. As I brushed her with my hand she gave out a squeal, so I proceeded with a little more caution. When I felt I had a good idea exactly where she was in the snow bank, I shoved my arms under her through the snow bank. I got a pile of snow up the sleeve of my jacket, but I ignored that. With my arms under her I lifted her out of the snow. Her entire body was bright red from the cold of the snow. Whether it was just her or the combination of her and the snow still stuck around her, but I was not prepared for the weight and I fell backward onto my butt into the snow with her landing in my lap. It was immediately apparent that I could not get up from this position as long as she was on my lap. I would have to dump her into the snow again. I flipped her off my lap and then got myself out of the snow and picked her up again. This time her arms and legs were under her and her belly was turned upward. This was a more awkward way to carry her but by this point the quickest way inside was the best way. As I made my way through the snow to the stairs I stumbled again under the weight of my naked friend, this time falling head first and on top of her, sinking her deep into the powder snow yet a third time, only this time I was on top of her. This time she only managed a moan from under me. I knew I had to get her inside and fast! I picked her up again and carried her up onto the deck. While still holding her, I tried to open the patio door, but it would not move. Full of apologies I told her I would have to put her down one more time so that I could open the door. I could tell her voice was weak even under the gag. She was freezing and I was afraid that she might fall unconscious. I knew I had to hurry. I gently laid her on our patio table, but it was also piled up with soft powdered snow too, so once again she sank deep into the snow. I tried again to open the door but it still would not open. I looked in through the glass door and noticed that the latch had fallen down to the lock position. The door was locked! I thought “oh shit, now what do I do?” She mumbled again through the gag and I think her teeth were chattering even in the gag. In the light on the deck I could see her whole body shivering. I dreaded telling her that we were locked out. I took off my coat and wrapped it around her while breaking the news to her that the door was locked. I thought she was going to start to cry. As I wrapped my coat around her I touched her bare body with ungloved hands and realized how cold she really was. I had to get her inside. Then it hit me. I had my front door key in my coat pocket. I yanked the coat off her exposing her to the cold winter air again and took off around the house to the front door. As I turned around the corner of the house I thought I heard her try to cry out, but there was no time to stop. I had to get her inside and every second counted. — All I could do was lie there in my ultra strict hogtie and buried under about a foot of snow. My feet and toes felt like ice but my hands were still quite warm because they were pressed between my legs. I took that as a good sign that the inside of my legs were not directly exposed to snow, and were still relatively warm. Inside my wintery cocoon it was dark and quiet. Whether my eyes were open or shut made no difference because my world was black. What little squirming that I could do only seemed to allow the snow to fill in any little spaces around my body. Finally I heard the muffled sound of boots in the snow. I opened my eyes and could see the same faint light that there was when I was first buried. The crunching footsteps seemed to be moving away from me. I tried screaming but practically nothing made it through my gag. Seconds later I felt some movement of the snow piled on top of me. Then I felt a hand brush on my right leg. The glove felt very rough and stung my frozen skin. He was brushing away the snow only to locate me because the next thing that happened was he was shoving his gloved hands through the snow under me and picked me up with much of the snow still piled on top of me. My face came clear of the snow because I was basically facing down. As he lifted me up he must have fallen backward because I found myself lying, belly down, on his lap. He said something about not being able to stand up with me on him so he flipped me off of him, head first, back into the snow. I flipped right over and landed on my back, or more precisely, on my legs and arms that were tightly hogtied behind me. The weight of my body on my bound limbs was certainly evident, but the shock of the cold snow again was worse. He got himself up and picked me up again. He carried me on my back with my arms and legs under me. It wasn’t very comfortable but at that point I was more concerned with getting inside. He was carrying me around the deck when I guess he stumbled in the deep snow. He dropped me again, face first into the snow, and fell on top of me! His full weight came down on me and drove me into the snow a third time and winded me. All I could get out through my gag was a grunt as he landed on me. He swore at himself, which told me he was very upset at what was happening. As he got himself up again he pushed my head deeper into the snow. I guess he was just trying to get off of me. On his feet again, he picked up a frozen, naked me and made his way up the steps onto the back deck. He finally arrived at the back patio door. The warmth of inside was just a glass pane away. I was so anxious to get in out of the cold and put an end to this stupid challenge of mine. He seemed to have difficulty opening the door while holding me in his arms. He apologized but said that he would have to put me down one more time to allow him to open the door. I nodded my head to signal my understanding but mumbled through my gag “hurry”, but it didn’t quite sound that way. He looked around for a place to put me down. He first considered putting me on the floor of the deck but had second thoughts, probably because it would be difficult to pick me up again from the floor. He quickly decided to place me on a table on the deck, but it was covered in about two feet of snow, so once again I found myself lying on a bed of soft, freezing cold snow. You can be sure that I was not at all happy about my situation, but that was hard to tell through the gag in my mouth. He went back to the door but still could not open it. He looked through the window and said, “Shit, it’s locked.” A million things raced through my head; how could this happen? Didn’t he just come out through that door? How are we going to get in now? Am I going to die of hypothermia? He took off his coat and tried to wrap me in it. It was certainly welcome warmth from the cold winter air, but my belly was still sitting in snow. Then, without warning he pulled his coat off of me and took off down the stairs and around the house. Now my heart really sank. He’s left me to freeze to death, I thought. Where did he go? Was he coming back? Whatever he was up to, there was nothing I could do. My only option was to lie there in a pile of snow, tied up and naked. I could not feel my toes, my breasts and belly stung from the cold of the snow, my arms aches from the tight ropes and the freezing wind blew across my frozen back. I had no more energy and no more hope. In total despair, my head dropped into its portion of the snow bank that lay under it, burying my face in the soft white stuff. I thought to myself that they should find my body when the sun comes up. Then I heard a swishing noise and his voice saying, “I’m back”. I struggled to pick up my head and saw him stepping out through the opened patio door. He picked me up, carried me through the door and put me down, this time on some towels on the table where he had tied me up. Then he took off again without removing my gag or any of the ropes! I tried to mumble something through the gag but it did no good. A minute later he showed up again and the sweetheart wrapped a warm fuzzy towel around me and hugged me saying how sorry he was about the disaster I just endured. The warm towel felt so good but it quickly cooled off and became soaking wet from the snow that was stuck to me. He rolled me halfway over and put another warm towel under me to soak up the puddle that was forming under me. Off came the top towel and it was replaced with another warm towel that he wrapped around my shoulders. With my head out of the towel he began working on removing my gag. I think the cloth gag was frozen because he struggled to untie it but the knot finally let loose and the gag came out. At this point, after being tied, gagged and nearly frozen to death, the moment seemed to call for something profound from me. You know something really meaningful. The only thing I could think of saying was, “I don’t think I want to try that again.” He hugged me tight again and I think he began to cry. I tried to comfort him but, still being tied up, that was difficult. He was really troubled over the ordeal that I had just endured, but I had to share some of that responsibility too since it was my idea in the first place. Well, not the part about burying me in the snow, but that would never have happened if I had not hatched the crazy plan to start with. After he seemed to regain his composure I asked him how his feet were. He looked confused as he asked me what I thought was wrong with his feet as he started to untie the rope that held my feet so close to my head. I told him that I remembered him saying something about how cold his feet were after he put me down in the snow bank. I did not mention the snow that was thrown on top of me. — How could she be concerned about my feet that got a chill while I was tossing her into a snowbank and burying her alive! I was speechless after realizing that she cared about what I went through in the snow. I gave her a big hug, which was rather difficult the way she was tied up. I think she thought I was trying to fondle her. I started working on all the ropes starting with the one securing her ankles in her hog-tie. As it came loose her legs began to straighten but the rope tying her arms to her calves held the hog-tie pretty tight. It had to be removed before her legs could relax. When this rope was removed her legs could finally straighten and as they did her hands that were held between her knees just slid out. Next I worked on her elbow rope and then her forearms. When her arms were finally free, she rolled over, sat up, hopped off the table and gave me a huge hug followed by a deep kiss. Naked and ankles still tied, she was more interested in showing me affection than gaining her freedom from all the ropes. After sharing affection I asked her if she could finish untying herself. She said she could so I excused myself and headed up stairs. The master bedroom is equipped with a large whirlpool bath and I had headed up to prepare a hot bath with bath salts and all. A few minutes later she came upstairs looking for me with one of the bath towels wrapped around her. — I was so touched by his gesture of preparing a hot bath for me I gave him another big hug. I dropped the towel and slid into a delightfully hot bath. For the first few minutes I just lay there with my eyes closed enjoying the warmth all around me as if there wasn’t another soul in the world. I opened my eyes and was a little shocked to see him sitting on the side of the tub gazing at me. He said, “You look beautiful.” The bath was huge so I invited him to join me. At first he hesitated but it didn’t take much to convince him. He stripped his clothes off and stepped into the bath. This was the first time I saw him naked. His cock was huge with an erection that I don’t know how long he had had it. We cuddled in the bath and I gave him a deep kiss. I slowly went to hold his hard cock but I guess it was the heat of the bath that had killed his erection. That did not stop him from enjoying my fondling. His fingers found my cunt and for the rest of the evening we both bathed in our mutual pleasure. more fancy with these effects.

He Said, She Said

Mon, 06 Apr 2020 00:00:00 +0000

I met my latest boyfriend in Social Studies class and the module we were studying was all about social norms and what our society sees as acceptable and unacceptable behavior. There were a lot of unacceptable behaviors, like assault, sexual assault, forced confinement. Some nerds didn’t know what that was and the teacher explained that it could include kidnapping, being left locked in a room or being tied up, things like that. Then some guy trying to sound smart calls out, “but what if she wants to be tied up?” That got quite a laugh from several boys, but not my boyfriend. That pretty well ended the class and we all left.

Andreabound in the Principal's Office

Sat, 29 Feb 2020 00:00:00 +0000

Part One

Sara didn’t see me at first as she opened the front door. Maybe it was the transition from bright daylight outside to the relative dimness of the hallway that hid me from her distracted entrance. So it was only as she turned round from closing the door that she suddenly noticed the figure kneeling in the hallway. She jumped, startled. “What the fuck? Oh its you, of course, you scared the Bejesus out of me, hiding there like that.” She said breathlessly.

Amy's Pleasures: Fun in the Compactor

Sun, 13 Oct 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Amy closed the door behind her. She turned around, and there it was. The residential trash compactor, home to the garbage of the local block, consisting of 20 flats. One man, the caretaker, would bring everyone’s trash to the compactor at the end of each day. This meant Amy would be less likely to be disturbed, and didn’t have to worry about the potential of many different neighbours walking in on her.

The Trashing of a LilyBot

Sat, 15 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Inspired by TrashGirl

The new Love Bot, recently released by tech magnate BotNet, had gotten quite a lot of attention. In addition to their usual products, such as their MaidBots, Operators, and ServiceBots, the Love Bots offered a new and exciting option for BotNet’s… more adult clientele. To say that the Love Bots were a hit would be an understatement. People couldn’t get enough of them, and it didn’t take long for more bizarre customer requests to pop up. Soon BotNet devoted an entire devision to keeping the adult side of the world happy. New and more interesting features began popping up, catering to every fetishists needs.

The Box

Thu, 04 Apr 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Carol was having second or even third thoughts about what she had done. She had let her wildest fantasies and kinks control her way of thinking. Her desire had led to serious trouble with no hope of escape or release. She sat there shaking in her full body bondage as the sun kissed her thick latex suit. She moaned quietly behind the massive gag she had given herself. She had just ended her life in many ways. All because her pussy was turned on by bondage, latex, gags, isolation, sensory deprivation and other sick and twisted ideas. Even going over it now was making her wet. For fuck sake why was she so disgusting and inhuman. As a tear rolled over her tightly rubberised face.

University Woes

Sun, 20 Jan 2019 00:00:00 +0000

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.

Call Me Mistress

Sat, 12 Jan 2019 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from chapter three

Chapter 4: A Day in the Country

After being purely a sex object for Krissy and her three girlfriends, I had all the sex I wanted for a few days. When all the girls left my house in the wee hours of the morning, I untied Richard and he and I slept into most of the next day. It wasn’t until the following weekend that I suggested we take a drive out into the country. I had put a shovel and some bondage toys in the trunk of my car in preparation for my plan.

Disposed Of

Sun, 30 Sep 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part two

Part 3: Hell For Danielle

Thursday Evening

Hours had passed since Danielle had been disposed of in the dumpster. There had been no sign of life since the lids slammed down on her. Danielle had finished work at 4pm, so it was very likely to be late evening now, and the cleaners had probably gone home. This meant she was going to have to gruel out all night inside this dumpster. The thought of such an idea nearly made Danielle sick. There wasn’t a large amount of trash alongside her, but what was there of it was stinking, mainly of poo and rotten food. There was no choice here, Danielle was going to have to wait until the morning for the cleaners to find her and help her out. She would have to sleep here tonight. Jennifer’s plan was a decent one but surely she hadn’t considered that Danielle would easily be found in here by the cleaners?

Shack

Mon, 13 Aug 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Summary: A young woman with a thing for truckers, a love of handcuffs and a broken heart goes riding off to the beach for a weekend with her best friend to salve that broken heart. Along the way she encounters someone who may just be a match for her made in heaven…

Tina was my best (female) friend, we’d been friends since 5th grade, so that was, what, over a decade now? She and I were housemates right now and driving from our desert home town to the coast to hopefully fix a problem.

Jenna’s Final Journey

Sun, 27 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Continues from Part One

Part Two

Chapter 4

There the casket remained, Jenna coming around at least once a week, usually on the Tuesday night and she’d happily climb into the box, Ted locking her limbs but on at least one occasion realised his hands had brushed her breasts while lowering the girl into the collar. To prove that theory on the next visit she arrived early and stripped off her skirt and blouse. Wearing her best underwear and was in the box, kneeling and ready. Gagged and blindfolded with her ankles already done. Ted had come in and saw Miss Rennie there…

Retirement Plan

Tue, 24 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part one

Part 2: A Change of Plans.

The sun had been up for nearly an hour when Toni neared home. She knew already that this would not be the safe house she had intended. A news program on the radio was talking about a police raid on a house and that the FBI was on the scene.

“It’s horrifying that something like this should be happening here in our town”, the female news reporter said. “Several young women kidnapped and sold as sex slaves, and the home base is suspected to be this house in one of our most affluent neighbourhoods”.

A Balance Struck

Thu, 11 Jan 2018 00:00:00 +0000

You wake up as you feel the pleasant tingle of electricity stimulating your cock. You’re already hard as the stimulation slowly builds. Waves of electrical pleasure flow through your member as they grow stronger and faster.

You don’t try to fight it, because you can feel the tight leather holding you still. Your arms are held rigidly to your side and you can barely move them. Your legs are strapped down and you can’t thrust to increase the stimulation. You can’t even turn your head because it too is held perfectly still inside of the tight hood that surrounds it.

Solid Revenge

Thu, 11 Jan 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Frankie Massino was trying to figure out why he was lying on something pliable yet cold while his front side was warmer. He may have had a bit too much to drink last night but he’d never had a hangover like he was experiencing now. The pounding in his skull was almost nauseating.

Trying to lift his hands to his head to see if that would somehow help the throbbing pain to stop, Frankie found that he was unable to move them. His eyelids felt like they were made of lead as he tried to open them. Using all his energy to try and force them apart, Frankie began to understand what had happened to him.

Dumping A Love Rival

Wed, 03 Jan 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Another day finished. Working as a manager in the top range fashion store in the city’s massive shopping mall, Erin was locking up at the end of the day. She was wearing her usual black leather jacket and leggings combo, her brown hair straightened out. She was beautiful and sexy. She began making her way through the mall when she spotted Ashleigh, one of the shopping mall cleaners. She was quite a plain girl, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, but still attractive. Ashleigh noticed Erin looking at her and grabbed her chance to speak with her.

A Matter of Time

Wed, 16 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

My first sexual, fantasy type thoughts after the news of intimate action between You and Your close, female friend. i’ll just call her “kitty” for the stories sake. You’ve known her much longer than You’ve known me, i could see the attraction between the two of You all along, and it made sense to me even then. i could see the sexual tension for You in her posture. Makes even more sense to me now, i just didn’t comprehend it then. her as Your femsub, and me being the even lower, all out Female dominated male sub, under Your control. As well as kinda being hers, under Your control. Your loving poly family. It seems so right to me. Even with poly having the second meaning of plastic to me. WE/we all arrange to make the living conditions happen and it works out great together. With You leading the household and kitty and me serving You well. Often, You reward us for serving You with so much love. Although sometimes, You are not in the mood to reward me, and kitty is instructed to have a little fun punishing me with bondage, whipping, suffocation, and strangulation before bagging me up in my trash closet or the huge, household trash can for a bit of forced, submissive meditation to reinforce my place within Your household garbage. You both always tease about how i really WILL end up getting trashed by the two of You eventually.

Goodbye Garbage

Wed, 16 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

You’ve been lying here 20 minutes now, wondering what’s going to happen. Face down on the bed, naked and hogtied with cable ties. Waiting for another night of fun, but tonight is different. I walk in eventually, you notice something is up, I’m just wearing a pair of joggers and a hoodie, my hair is tied back and my sleeves rolled up. Usually I wear something sexy for you but tonight I look like I’m going to do some housework. That’s cause I am. I don’t even acknowledge you as I leave again and go to the kitchen. I come back in holding a roll of extra large, heavy duty, black, garbage bags in one hand and a roll of duct tape in the other. I toss them next to your face on the bed and leave again. This time I return with the vacuum cleaner and leave it next to the bed. I stand there, look at you and sigh. I start to unravel one of the shiny and smooth, garbage bags and rip it off the roll. “What’s the vacuum cleaner for?” You ask curiously, as I climb behind you. I completely ignore your question and instead lean close and pinch your nose shut. As your mouth opens instinctively to breathe, you start to feel me packing the un-open garbage bag I ripped off into your mouth until the whole thing is in there. Forgetting to let go of your nose, you start to choke as I force it in. I hold my hand over your mouth to keep it in, then start wrapping it up in tape. Round and round. Pulling it tight as I go until I’m satisfied you’re not going to make a sound. Then you start to feel me wrapping up your cable ties with the thick, duct tape, securing the hogtie. Making sure all your limbs are stuck tight. You even feel me tape up your fingers and toes. You wonder for a second if I’m maybe going a bit over the top but that soon fades as the ecstasy of being helpless starts taking over and you start to enjoy it. “I wouldn’t get too excited, if I were you.” I say calmly, noticing your dripping erection. You look up at me nervously wondering what I’m planning. You try to mouth words through your gag, asking what the hell I’m going on about, but nothing comes out. Just a quiet muffled noise. “Shhhh, don’t worry!” I laugh. “I’ll explain everything, it’s the least I can do considering what I’m about to do to you. I want you to know what’s going to happen and why I’m doing this to you.” You heart stops for a moment, what’s she going to do? Your mind starts racing. “Well, unfortunately, I’m bored of you now. You’ve exhausted your last bit of usefulness and just like every disposable object, which you are, you have an expiry date. That date is today, right now.” You start to nervously chuckle through your gag before I interrupt your amusement. “I’m not fucking joking! You are done. I’m going to pack you up in these garbage bags like the worthless junk you are and throw you out with all the rest of the trash. I guess you could say, I’m dumping you.” I giggle at my own joke, proud of myself for my quick humor as you panic on the bed, wondering if this crazy girl is actually serious. Well, she is. “Oh yeah, you were wondering what the vacuum cleaner was for? Well, today I spent all day cleaning up SO much trash. There are so many bags that I’m going to have to vacuum pack you to fit you in the dumpster with it all.” Then you realize, she is serious. You start begging through your gag as I rip off more garbage bags from the roll. I don’t say a word. I just shake the bag open and slide it over your head and shoulders. I grab onto the tape holding your legs and hands together in your hogtie and use it to slide you into the shiny, smooth, thick bag. You get pushed all the way to the end and start feeling me pushing the air out of the black bag and bringing the sides of the bag together as everything gets darker. You lie there, helplessly moaning as you hear me plug in the vacuum. “You better hold your breath” I laugh. “Or don’t, I don’t care.” With that, the vacuum nozzle is put into the bag and the switch goes on. You feel the bag slowly start to suck in around you and your heart starts racing. The confining plastic closes in. Getting tighter and tighter. Before you know it, you are having to blow the bag from your face as it keeps getting sucked into your nose until finally you are air tight. I hold the vacuum there a few extra seconds just to make sure I’ve got all the air out, then I tape up the end tight. Bending the end over on itself, making sure nothing escapes and taping it again. By this point, you are starting to struggle for air, trying to signal me to let you breathe. I climb on top of your vac bagged body and all you hear is the sound of tape being ripped off of the roll. You feel me start to wrap the thick, black tape around your mouth, as if I was gagging you again, then around your eyes. Now you are screaming for air. “But garbage doesn’t need to breathe.” I say mockingly. I play with you a little and rub your dick with my hand as hard as I can before I finally pop a hole in each of your nostrils for air before you pass out. “I want you conscious for this, you’ll have plenty of chances to suffocate later.” Starting to resign yourself to your fate, you hear the unraveling of yet another trash bag. The exact same thing happens again as before. You get slid inside, air sucked out and a couple of holes to breathe through your nostrils. This in fact happens another two times until I’m satisfied. “Now I need to make you look less suspicious incase someone happens to come across you. I wouldn’t get your hopes up though, I’m going to make sure you are nowhere near the top of the dumpster for anyone to find but I don’t want to take any chances.” I open up a final three trash bags and put them inside each other and lie them open, upwards, on the floor. I leave the room and come back with two full garbage bags from the weeks kitchen trash. I cut one open and dump it into the three layered, open bags and throw the now empty kitchen bag in with it as well. “I can’t tell the difference between you and the trash in this bag if I’m completely honest, but that’s just me.” I say passively. With that, I grab your feet and slide you off the bed and into the bags. You land with a bit of a thud but most of the garbage breaks your fall. Then I grab the other full kitchen bag and cut that open and dump it on top of you. “Now it’s time to take out the trash, I’m getting rid of you for good.” You give off a scream as I pull the draw strings together and tie it tight, not sealing off the bag completely so that you get some air through. You can feel and smell the garbage around you now. Packed tightly in my trash and sealed almost completely in a plastic bag, you can’t help but smell your sweat and arousal as well. Wondering if I’ll actually dig through the nasty trash to free you. Knowing your going to be trapped under a mountain of bags very soon, who knows if and when you’ll get any air. You feel me sliding you all the way too the garage. With you all packed up tight, you are a lot easier to lift into the trunk of my car but I still struggle and eventually drop you into it with a big thud. “Oh shit!” I scream. For a moment you think I’m concerned for your safety but that hope dies fast as you realize I was worried about having loose trash falling out of the bag into my trunk. Those heavy duty bags don’t rip easy though. And I’ve lost count of how many you are in. You hear me load up the garbage from the big clean up earlier before I close the trunk and we take a short trip to a remote area with a few dumpsters. The trunk opens. “This is it, time to throw you away with the garbage. No coming back now, this is happening. No ones going to find you, you’re going to lie in that dumpster under all the trash until you either suffocate or get crushed with the trash in the garbage truck. Pick-up here isn’t that regular so it will be a while before anyone comes by and I’m going to lock the dumpster shut just to make sure you stay where you belong. Most importantly, die where you belong. I walk away and grab a shopping kart lying around that some hobo probably left, then proceed to lift you into it. The dumpster has a ramp up to it so I push you in the cart all the way up to the opening. “Oh wow! That stinks! If you think that kitchen trash is bad you’ve got another thing coming.” Then I lean in close so you can hear me clearly. “I’m going to go home now and cum to the thought of you lying here, knowing I’ve finally taken out the trash for good. Thinking of you gasping on rotten, hot air until eventually enough plastic bags fall on your filthy face and send you to sleep for good. Knowing you’ll never be found, just another bag of trash getting dumped and compacted into a garbage truck. And once I’ve cum, I promise, i will never think of you ever again.” And with that, I tip you into the half full dumpster as you let of a final muffled scream in terror. Or at least the last one I’ll ever hear. I let you get comfortable as I go and get the rest of the trash bags from the car. There’s about 11 of them, some of them heavier than others. The lighter ones with the soft trash get thrown on you first, and I make sure and drop one of the huge, black bags right on top of where your head is. Then the heavier bags dumped on top of that. I just want to get home now, but I need to finish the job. I push down on the lid, having to force the garbage down to get it closed and lock it shut. You hear the rubbish all around you crumple, creak, and groan before I flip the lockbar in place. I stop and listen, I can’t hear anything. Good. You’ll never leave that dumpster, alive at least. You hear the car start and leave. The sound disappears as it gets further away, then just like that, silence. You’re fucked. You can’t move an inch, the smell is foul and your already struggling to breathe. You start panicking as plastic sucks against your nostrils, desperately trying to control your breathing. But it’s no use, you can’t find a pocket of fresh air. The bags pushing in against your face slowly from the weight of the garbage around you and the air running out of the bag your tightly sealed inside of. You finally accept your fate, only wishing you could jerk off, but your hands are hogtied to your feet. You start to grind against a bag of trash next to you, trying to get one last bit of pleasure before its lights out, until you finally cum inside your wet, slimy bag. The orgasm is unlike any you’ve ever had, it’s so very intense. In the ecstasy of cumming, you knock a bag loose, which falls down and sinks into your face. The loose bag seems to conform around your face and envelope you, hugging you sternly as you struggle for your last gasp beneath a thin layer of plastic. Goodbye garbage. That’s what you get.

On the 29th

Fri, 04 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Simple things can trigger happy memories, for Jill, it’s the sound of a key in a lock, until now.

It was like the click of a fountain pen, it sounded so small and soft. The click reminded her of the first time May locked her in handcuffs. What followed was a night of submission, pain, and pleasure. From that night forward May’s sadistic relationship with Jill would continue to escalate until now when the sound of a key in a lock triggered excitement and terror in Jill’s heart.

On the 29th

Fri, 04 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

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.

entry in plaza forum story contest spring 2017

Simple things can trigger happy memories, for Jill, it’s the sound of a key in a lock, until now.

Sleeping Beauty

Fri, 04 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

The muffled sounds of dirt hitting a wooden surface filled her ears. There was no light and she also couldn’t move. Her heartbeat got faster and faster. Could it be? Was he actually doing this to her? This was just thought as a very kinky game. A sexual play that should help him to get over his ex-girlfriend. Perhaps this action was the final act and then he was going to get her out so they can go home.

Sleeping Beauty

Fri, 04 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

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.

The Burial

Thu, 04 May 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Offering oneself to be buried alive takes a lot of courage, especially when the people who have offered to do it for you are happy to do it to you for their own pleasure. Tanya met such a couple. It all started with a simple fantasy that continued to manifest into some wicked and devious idea, of being not only buried alive, but have caked in cement inside the burial box. This took some organising on both parties. Tanya had to decide what she was going to wear (latex wear was chosen as suitable), and the couple had to decide where, when, how deep, type of box etc… It had to be all planned down to the last detail. So Tanya chose a knee length latex dress, her favourite one, elbow length rubber gloves (for which the hands would be taped into balls), latex stockings, PVC waist cincher/corset and ankle ballet boots (2 sizes too small so to squish the feet and cause extreme discomfort). Would also need some lube on the feet to get them inside the boot. An open face rubber hood and a large rubber penis gag. No underwear! And just her boobies. She also would take her blindfold. The couple, Steve and Marion, were working on a suitable location, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Australia has a lot of desolate locations and it wouldn’t be hard to hide a grave/body. It’s probably why some people are never found. Mind you they could also have been taken by Aliens, but that doesn’t happen here . The couple chose a remote town in Victoria called Donald, and set the burial site near Lake Buloke (Google Map this and you’ll find it). Tanya gave it the thumbs up. On a Tuesday night, Tanya drained her bank account, and headed towards the town of Donald. It was a long drive, but instructions were that she was not to go all the way, she would meet up with Marion about 15 kilometres out of Avoca. Dump everything in her car, lock it and toss the car keys nearby. Upon meeting at the rendevous, Tanya’s nerves really started to kick in. Especially when Marion arrived. It was quite a big car, looked a bit like a Chrysler 300C. Hard to see in the dark. Marion instructed Tanya to get dressed in her latex and put her clothes in a plastic bag provided. Marion said she would dump her clothes in one of those donation bins. Once Tanya was dressed, the remainder of her burial gear was placed in the car. Tanya was cuffed, gagged, blindfolded and guided to the boot (trunk) of the car and placed inside. What followed next was a 3 - 4 hour straight drive. The car stopped, engine switched off. But no one came to get Tanya. She then heard voices. Doors opening, closing, the car starting again and moving. Where was she going?? The car drove for about another 90 minutes until the road became a bit bumpy. It stopped… The boot (trunk) opened… “I thought you’d like some fresh air” Steve mocked.

The Trashy Adventures of David and Christine 5: David Screws Up

Thu, 27 Apr 2017 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Trashy Adventures of David and Christine 4: Christine’s Party)

Book 5: David Screws Up

I’m not exactly sure what I’ve done. All I know is I’ve done SOMETHING to upset Christine. Cause, now, I find myself trapped, tied up in Jennifer’s now empty personal trash compactor. My mouth is free of a gag, mostly cause Christine knows I won’t call for help.

Not that it would do any good anyway.

Terms of Service

Fri, 10 Feb 2017 00:00:00 +0000

“Happy 18th birthday baby.”

“Oh Mom, it’s beautiful.” Jessie said.

“My little girl is all grown up, blow the candles out Honey.” Dad said.

Jessie closes her eyes and blows out the candles. Mom cuts the cake while Dad answers the front door. He returns with an official looking letter, his sad face speaks the words he can’t say.

“Not today, it can’t come today.” Jessie said.

“They can’t even respect a girls birthday anymore?” Mom said.

Riding Lessons 6

Fri, 02 Sep 2016 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part five

It has been a while since we have caught up with the messy, bondage activities down on the stable yard so here is the latest edition. I hope people enjoy and if you are new to this series please read the rest in the forum.

Messy Riding Lessons - Chapter 6

My name is Claire Fullerton, I am event groom for Hilary Furness-Smyth one of the UK’s top riders, I am also her lover having left my previous life as an app developer to pursue love and my more bizarre tastes.

A Threesome to Die for..

Thu, 21 Jul 2016 00:00:00 +0000

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!

No Littering

Sun, 03 Jul 2016 00:00:00 +0000

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.

No Littering

Sun, 03 Jul 2016 00:00:00 +0000

The Landfill

Sun, 23 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000

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 Long Weekend

Sat, 22 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Claire, a new girl I was dating was amazing, she was exactly the sort of girl I had been looking for, for years. Not stunning, but not ugly, not thin, but a good body, bumps in the right places and nice hips. Much more importantly, she was fun. We had met on a chat site about six months before. As this was the sort of anything goes chat sites we already knew a lot of personal details about each other.

The Long Weekend

Sat, 22 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000

The Long Weekend

Sat, 22 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Just for Fun

Wed, 12 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000

My heart pounded in my ears almost as loud as the dirt pounding on the lid of the casket that was only inches above my face. I had asked for this, dreamed and fantasized about it for years, but I was quickly finding that my dreams and fantasies where a lot different than the hard cold reality of being buried alive.

I strained against the straps that held me down, but it was useless. The leather straps were very tight, very secure, and held me nearly motionless. If only I hadn’t been so determined to feel like a prisoner, a captive. If only I hadn’t insisted that I be strapped down so tightly.

Just for Fun

Wed, 12 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Subterranean Sally 4

Thu, 09 Jul 2015 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part three

Part Four

I lay there for ages crying into the mask. Feeling betrayed like her in the story, but knowing it was my fault just made it worse. Bob was obviously scared that I’d placed myself in danger again and maybe this ‘extra’ time might snap me out of it. Repeatedly I replayed that moment upstairs, swishing happily around and grabbing the locket, one of two that I’d kept of Donna’s… this one white, the other black… “OH BLAST!” I screamed into the gag, now remembering the safe key WAS IN THE OTHER ONE! Weeping now at my carelessness, I’d kept the key in there because I’d worn that one with a dark blue dress for the night at the hotel with my girlfriends! So ‘all I had to do’ was wait for Bob’ to re-establish my text capabilty… so I settled down. Worked hard at doing my exercises and prayed like heck it’d only be the first week… It took nearly a month! The screen startled me and I’d almost forgotten how the keyboard worked when I saw communications were up. Bob and Mary standing there and it was mum who was tapping. ‘Dearest Sally. We’re sorry to have kept you down there honey, but felt…’ They stopped as a flow of gibberish came across. I cursed and backspaced, tapping quickly in case he switched me off again. ‘Hi guys, welcome back. But dad, I feel so stupud. My safe key is in the OTHER locket… can you go and chekc’ he read, ignoring the spelling mistakes and I saw his head resting against Mary’s shoulders for a moment. He quickly left the room and I nervously waited, my eyes struggling to focus as I’d been in virtual darkness for so long. Muscle-wise I felt really bad, the cramps just permenantly painful now and I swore this was going to be the LAST time I’d be ever down here. He returned waving the key and the ring full of padlock ones. Mary leapt up and embraced him, both bursting into tears and I was crying too, hoping he’d whip the wardrobe doors open and start up the jackhammer… ‘OK sweetheart. We really should have checked ourselves. I’m gonna kick myself for ages. So I’ll start freeing you tomorrow morning. It’s Sunday night and a bit late to start drilling now…’ I cursed unladylike but knew he wouldn’t budge. ‘Fair enough, and again I’m sorry. I’ve been exercising but still feel shi… Sorry rotten’ I tapped, grinning when Mary waggled a mocking finger. We ‘chatted’ a lot more and eventually an hour later they signed off with virtual hugs, Bob switching my movies and music back on. ‘You’ll need them to drown out the drill eh?’ He was right and I suffered horribly next afternoon as the thundering grew louder. At one point I started tapping out for him to STOP and cover me up again! Thankfully that got backspaced before he saw it. The pair worked SO hard and I screamed with delight when a big chunk of concrete was levered away and I saw the bars of my cage. Now the real delicate work started as they chiselled and dug deeper using manual tools as they worked more out from inside the cage bars. One thump made the coffin creak and I saw Mary gesturing, Bob now realising he’d go through the wood if he wasn’t careful. The sight of Bob unlocking the cage reduced me to tears of joy. Each one was waved to the camera and I squealed when the last came off and was crying when the top bars were removed. But after hours of labour I sensed they were exhausted just as I could see the full length of the lid. If they carried on they’d be here a long time til I could get up from the casket. Then be taken upstairs and so on. ‘Hey guys, I know you’re close but if you’re getting tired then carry on tomorrow, yes? I don’t want you knackered and the bit getting me out of here will take a long time. Bob I can see you flexing that wrist. Have breaks… before you do some mischief.’ They cuddled and I saw Mary talking and agreement was reached. ‘OK sweetie, glad you understand and thanks for that, look forward to seeing you in the morning.’ I never slept that night, constantly flicking between cameras and movies heart leaping when I finally saw them reappearing. ‘Hi darling, hope you’re OK. We’re a lot better today so be patient. Think of that lovely bath waiting for you’ Mary wrote and I grinned, trying to ignore the fact that my body odour was starting to affect my nasal passages. Not a real stink but noticeable all the same. The hoist was brought in to lift me out. Mary warning the power was about to go out briefly. I held my breath obviously and sighed on feeling the coffin lurching upwards… stopping soon afterwards and everything returning, air and light, enabling me to watch as they swung me over onto the carpet. My eyes were streaming with tears as I heard the popping of the covers then the magical wrrring. “Brace yourself Sally, eyes closed please darling. We’re opening you up now.” Mary shouted and I did. CRAAACK! I was shuddering like anything as fresh air assaulted my nostrils. A hand touched mine and I clasped it… hairy, must be Bob’s and I cautiously tried to open one eye. “Ahhh… lights down please…” I squealed through the gag. Closing it again as the shock battered me, thankfully they understood and I heard Mary run for the wall and banging something. “OK honey, just a few torches aglow now. Try again.” This time was more successful and I was crying as I saw the two vague figures alongside me. They too were in tears and we held hands again. “There’s nothing left of you girl…” he exclaimed, stroking my torso and despite the fact I wanted out, just to be TOUCHED by a human again was enough. Listening as my restraints were unlocked one by one, pressure on my limbs relaxing but I dared not move just yet as it hurt so much. Now the important one and Bob placed fingers on the mask and slowly lifted it up. “Urrgghh…” I squealed as the gag slid out. Despite the fact I’d recently had a drink I was as dry as a bone. My tongue relieved to be able to stick it out! “Bloody hell… you look a mess!” I was told and somehow I grinned. A straw was shoved into me and I drained the whole lot in a couple of slurps. Remembering one of the stories I so slooowly tried to lift my head up… and failed! Mary massaging my arms and gradually I was able to lift my hands up. Wincing as the pain tore through me. “This isn’t going to work,” Bob said half an hour later as I wailed again on trying to sit up. For a moment I thought… and stared at him in shock. “Don’t be daft Sally, you’re not going back down OK?” he joked, reaching in and patting my trembling hands. I smiled wryly and Mary grinned as I got a kiss. We discussed what they would do and Bob left and returned with another drink, this time apparently laced with painkillers. I paused then knocked it back; soon feeling nothing, as my limbs just seemed to lose any sensation, this followed by the rest of me fading away. Bob having said it was the best way to get me out. What happened next was the thundering headache to beat all migraines I’d ever endured. Waking up in a bed in darkness as I realised my eyes were blindfolded. Wrists lightly bound in padded cuffs, these connected to a waist belt and for a moment I nearly panicked. “It’s OK sweetheart, I’m here hon,” Mary said as I called out that I was awake. Muscles screaming in pain and she quickly undid my arms. “I’ll turn the lights down before you finish,” she said next so I waited. Wriggling slightly, luxuriating in silk and I assumed she’d done this for me. Finally I slipped it off and looked up to see mum properly and it felt good as she leaned in to kiss me. Questions followed and Mary sat down and told me how they’d carried me upstairs where I’d been stripped and washed by mum alone then put to bed… two days ago! I’d slept solidly for thirty-six hours… wow! “Yeah, no wonder I feel shi… Oops, need to remember my manners now,” I chuckled and that got me a hug. Mary acknowledged this and allowed me to sit up, well she helped me, as I couldn’t quite manage that on my own. From here I could see my face in the dressing table mirror and I was appalled. Running both hands over my torso and I was concerned. “Wow, too skinny… not good.” I said and she agreed, saying once I could eat proper food that I needed to get back up to a healthier weight for my height. “Another week or so down there and you’d have been in REAL trouble young lady. I hope… this’ll be the last time you… it’s SO silly for you to keep hiding away like this. Please darling, don’t go down there again…” Taking my hands and kissing them. I knew she meant well but I sighed, trying not to look upset. “Yeah, I know, but it’s just the way I am Mary. Been like it my whole life as Bob’s probably said, yes?” She replied that they’d spent many hours discussing me, worried that I could need proper psychiatric care if this went too far, but hearing that I was adamant it’d not be happening. “No way, not gonna have someone poking round my head love… period. If you want I’ll talk to Milly or one of my other friends but please… just accept me for what I am. I’ll try to improve I promise.” She looked at me and finally nodded. “OK, I had to ask Sal, just to see what you’d say. I’ll hold you to your word though. Now it’s nearly lunchtime, fancy trying to get up?” I grinned and she fetched the kimono as I tried to swing my legs out, somehow succeeding and before long I was upright. Felt horrendous and Mary had to support me for a while as I was walked up and down the room but I was pleased to eventually get in and out of the bathroom unaided. We lurched downstairs and I nearly tripped over my nightie hem, Mary catching me well. Into the kitchen I went, mum behind me and Bob turned, a smile on his face. “Hiya sweetheart, welcome back,” he grinned and we came close for a hug and kiss. Then I headed for the table and just made it. Flopping into the seat as my head started spinning. Coffee was served into a beaker with straw and it went down a treat. They left me alone in there for a while with a newspaper, the pair obviously talking somewhere else but they did come back an hour later and Bob made lunch for us all. That was the start of my rehabilitation, a great omelette dinner following, I didn’t even know dad could cook one! “All this time you’ve kept that quiet…” I joked and they both chuckled and gradually they debriefed me as to what had gone on, both their honeymoon, and I remembered to ask Bob how his wrist was. “It’s OK Sally. But now you’re our most important worry. Need to get you fit and healthy again. I know what you and Mary discussed upstairs… and despite my best thoughts I’m not going to close the room up. Looks like we’re going to have to accept you as things are. We’ll let you use your coffin for trialing stuff or the odd weekend. But young lady, if you want to go down and be caged too there then the minimum burial time will be a month… no less. Sorry but it’s bloody exhausting digging you out each time. We ached as bad as you did yesterday…” I bridled at that and he waited for the explosion, which never came as I suspected he was testing me. I surrendered and gave them both hugs before asking to go back upstairs before I fell asleep again. Mary took me and after looking through their trip photos I was put to bed again, this time unbound. Over the next few months I was good as gold as I recovered, thankfully with little side effects. “Even your head is getting better,” Bob quipped one day. My friends were glad I was back, Milly especially and we Skype each other at least twice a week. Her relationship with the fellow Californian hasn’t lasted, he got busted for something serious and she was very upset. Least I was able to understand that, Mary saw us talking that night for hours but Mil at least was able to smile by the end of it. “Thanks love, glad to be a help, just wish I could meet you over there sometime.” I replied, hoping that I could have another holiday in the States out of it. They finally allowed me to get a part-time volunteer job at the local library and that did wonders for my self-esteem, way better than they imagined. Mind you it’s probably the noisiest place of learning in our town as I chat to other ladies. We giggle watching blokes furtively going into the ‘adult’ section… if only they knew that the primly dressed twenty-something manning the desk has ‘appeared in Vegas!’ Didn’t even need to go into the coffin room though I knew Bob was tidying it up. Smoothing out concrete edging, saying that ‘if’ there was a next time it’d just be soil. Eventually curiosity won the battle and I persuaded him to let me in one afternoon while Mary was out for a reason I didn’t know. The carpet and a load of wooden planks were pulled back to reveal his labours. Looking down I was pleased the cage was still there, noticing it WAS anchored after all, heavy bolts at each corner. The sides sloped up from the plinth, a proper staircase at the opposite end from the pipe channel. Bob led me down and I patted the cage, smiling at an old friend and he grinned at me. “Fancy a quick go?” he asked and I paused. “Well… quick is a month yes?” he nodded and I pouted royally. “Not fair, you teasing me…” but I was smiling and went to climb out. “It’s a month IF you’re in the coffin Sally, but just in the cage, well that is different.” I stared at him and he flipped up the latches then opened the top and peered in then pointed. “I’ll let you have an hour inside Sally before tea.” That got him a hug and I hurried upstairs to use my bathroom. Arriving back to see he was down there with a box of restraints, locks and so on. Blankets and pillow laid there for ‘comfort’ as he attached some manacles to each corner.

Subterranean Sally 4

Thu, 09 Jul 2015 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Subterranean Sally 3)

Part Four

Buried Alive

Thu, 02 Jul 2015 00:00:00 +0000

I always had a morbid curiosity for certain things. One of them is knowing what it felt like to be buried alive. So a couple of frame carpenter pals helped me build a “burial box” in which I could experience burial without the risk of being snuffed. Since I’m a rather tall gal the box had to extend at least 6 (six) to 8 (eight) inches above my head & below my feet, there had to be a foot and a half to each side of my body.

Buried Alive

Thu, 02 Jul 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Buried Desire

Thu, 02 Jul 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Having spent most of my life working in a high stress field, when it was time to retire I moved away from the city to a very rural area. My family had once been farmers, and I had inherited the farm, or rather what was left of it. It was really just a house and several acres of land that had been left to the weeds for decades. I liked it because I didn’t have any neighbors for miles in any direction. It was perfect for a no stress life.

Buried Desire

Thu, 02 Jul 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Round and Round

Sat, 18 Apr 2015 00:00:00 +0000

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.

Tales of Green Valley

Mon, 09 Mar 2015 00:00:00 +0000

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 16: Surprise Party, the Aftermath)

Tales of Green Valley # 17: New to the Game

Mary Johnson was cleaning her apartment. Her soon to be ex had moved out and she had lots of his old crap to get rid of. He had taken what he wanted, including her virginity all those years ago, and left to go live with his new girl. Mary was 38, in great shape, but she had discovered her husband preferred the barely legal college girls in their town. His new girl was an 18 year old freshman drama student who just loved to act like his she was his 13 year old babygirl who was being taught about sex by her “Daddy”.

Subterranean Sally

Thu, 05 Feb 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Part One

I knew my father kept an old coffin at his house having used it regularly for a Halloween stunt when I was a teenager. Myself in a frock and shut inside the old thing as he and some mates wheeled it around the streets. ‘Rising from the dead’ and scaring the crap out of people, all in the name of charity mind and as a family we’d raised a fortune over the years. Now with my mother gone and me having moved home to look after him it had become a chance to play a bit more. Bob didn’t mind and occasionally he took part. One memorable day he allowed me to wear one of mum’s dresses then locked me inside! I can safely say my heart was pounding! So when I read a series of stories on Gromet about girls who liked dressing up and being shut in coffins I decided I wanted to do it again. Showing the site to dad…only to find he’d known about it for years! And Mum too…was a serious addict and so he told me a lot of what they’d done. “We played a lot more than I care to admit, but nice to see you’re not too sweet and innocent to understand!” Talking to Bob one day over breakfast about this he grinned and said he’d made a few adjustments to it recently but would not elaborate, even when I nudged him. “You’ll find out soon enough young lady,” he said. I smiled inside but made sure he couldn’t read my thoughts. With today being my day off…it was gonna be playtime… Once he’d gone to work I did all the housework and washing which took all morning, prepared the slow-cooker for our dinner tonight and so on. But after my lunch I realised that I couldn’t put it off…I HAD to see what those adjustments were. Hurrying into the basement I locked the door before approaching the coffin. Flipping the lid up I stared…and was amazed. He’d certainly worked hard as I looked down, seeing the metalwork now installed at three places inside. One set of loops was for the ankles; the second would be for the waist with small wrist loops each side, while the last was obviously a collar to go round my neck. I was impressed, seeing they were padded, the same colour as the satin lining…and I wanted to try them out. A tug proved the loops were all locked and I groaned, as he must have known I’d come down so secured everything to stop me trying. Turning away I was amazed…and delighted to see a bunch of keys hanging nearby from a hook! Surely these were not for…but a close examination proved that they were! Nervously I placed one in the collar and twisted… Clunk! A real solid sound and I shuddered as the collar lifted up, it was 3cm steel and gleamed almost like my eyes were probably doing. Pushing it down then turning that key hearing the clunk again. Soon the others were unlocked and to test myself a bit I leaned in and placed a wrist into the loop by the belt. Flipping the top across it gripped firmly, the leather padding cool but tight on my skin. Another clunk as I locked it and by now my breathing was shallowing! I couldn’t wait and hurried upstairs to use the loo then get changed into something better than shorts and T-shirt. My wardrobe isn’t that ‘girlie’ as I work in an office where staid trouser-suits are the norm. It stops the truck drivers ogling my legs too, something I’ve hated forever and a day. But today was a ‘me’ day so dress it was, my favourite off-white number, calf length and lovely in silk, capped sleeves and everything. Cost me £200, and I have three of them, one is black but worth every cent, the 3-inch heels that go with them are nice if not comfortable for that long. Quickly I got dressed, being this naughty I was soon wearing stockings too. A slip inside then I zipped myself into the frock. Strapping the shoes on I was soon strutting downstairs and back to the basement. The door was locked again, keys tossed onto the bench and I headed for the coffin. Carrying my penis gag and a blindfold too to heighten my bondage experience. While Bob of course knew of my bondage fetish I naturally had never let him tie me up, the coffin yes but no more. Donna however had loved it and my parents spent many an hour down here, so now I guess daughters inherit all good traits from their mothers! Firstly I eased myself into the coffin, making sure the lid was folded right back onto the floor, settling my ass just below the belt and easing both ankles into their loops but not yet locking them as I tidied the folds of my dress. I could already feel wetness amidships and was glad I’d donned a second set of panties. Then I lay back and rested my head onto the satin cushion, seeing the thick steel loop sticking up to my right with the belt one visible as well because it’s longer. He’d measured this perfectly as my neck rested in the base of the collar. Slowly I reached down and lowered the belt, having to suck in a bit, as it wouldn’t quite meet the base. So to make sure I got the effect…I needed to lock it! Getting out for a moment I pondered, whether to finally ask Bob to do it tonight or just have a self-bondage session now…and I could not stand the thought of having to wait another 3 hours for him to return! Soon I was back inside and this time I locked my ankles into the loops. Sure that they felt tighter once I heard the clicks, guess my overwrought imagination… once I’d tidied my dress I lay back again, then realised the gag and blindfold were outside. Grumbling I reached over the edge and retrieved both, applying the gag and doing my hair once lying flat again. Now was a big moment as I eased the belt shut and locked it. The band was firmly pressing into me and I shuddered then reached for the collar. That too was secured and I was happy, then tried to lock my left wrist into the cuff, but couldn’t reach or see what I was doing. So I undid the loop around my neck and sat up. Now I wanted to lock everything but of course would not be able to do both wrists…or could I? Spending a few moments blundering about and I sighed. So freed myself and went for another bathroom visit and drink while thinking about what lay beneath my feet. But I just couldn’t stop and an hour late I was once more settling into the coffin and running through a checklist. Ankles locked. Left wrist locked. Belt locked. Gag on. Blindfold on. So I reached up and secured the collar then removed the keys and having found the right tape marked one placed it into the lock above where my other wrist would go. Then I shuddered and laid my arm into the loop and by twisting my fingers was able to snap the metal over the top. It rested fine and I imagined the key turning…ohh lovely and I grinned behind the gag as my middle digit felt the edge over to…and TOUCHED the barrel of the key! I’d forgotten where the key was in relation to the wristcuffs then remembered it was over to the side because the lock fed into the loop. So could it mean? And I paused…then did it. Rubbing my finger along it, pressing as hard as I could, feeling resistance…then it moved… CLUNK!

Subterranean Sally 3

Thu, 05 Feb 2015 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part two

Part Three

One that I thought was going well over the next six months or so. Mary was becoming a frequent visitor to the house. In fact one day I’d arrived back from work expecting them to be home but Bob was alone. Querying this he seemed surprised then admitted she’d gone dress shopping. “Not for THAT type of dress love…,” he said quickly enough but I suspected an announcement might be sooner than later. Downstairs too was becoming interesting. Not just Dad and Mary, but Ms Harrison and myself! I’d surrendered my vibrator to her one morning, spending the rest of the next two hours regretting this. “Come on love, just one more for the sisterhood, surely you can take it…” she muttered as I hung there blown away by a series of explosive ones! While she didn’t understand my coffin and the ideas behind it she didn’t mind if I played in it. The two of them locked me in one afternoon and I lay there listening as he took her circuit training, round the playroom rather than a gym. Over the next what seemed to me like hours he tickled, thrashed, more tickling then finally vibrated her to a climax! Her squealing woke me up from a snooze! Once I thought it long enough I quietly knocked on the lid (my wrists were not secured) and Bob released his girl. Me looking at a tired Mary wrapped in blankets and asleep on the bondage bed. We cuddled and I asked if I should free her. Bob cruelly shook his head no then carefully padlocked the cage shut with my assistance. Leaving her cellphone dangling off the bars. Upstairs much later on I received a call from a desperate lady who needed the loo! They got engaged on Christmas Day, fifteen months after our USA trip. Bob having asked me first if I minded. Of course I didn’t, she loved us both now and I was in tears when he popped the question after a great dinner made by me and she’d said yes. “Least you’ll be able to remember that date,” I laughed and got hugs for that. The wedding was planned for the summer but I was amazed when in March Bob announced he was selling his company and retiring. He’s only 55 I thought and was a little dismayed at that. “Oh, I thought you’d be happy that I’d be here. As you’ll be leaving too, we’re gonna have more than enough money for years to come, yes?” I wasn’t however. My role might be small in the company but I’d earned it on merit and was proud of that. While being ‘the boss’ girl had helped there were some who’d thought otherwise but I proved to them that I was capable, now he was taking it away. Didn’t he understand that I wanted to earn my own money, also you easily get bored if playtime is all the time and we had a frosty talk that afternoon and he groaned when I got stroppy. “I’ll help Mary with her work as she wants me and Milly to model the restraints for the calendar, but I’m not leaving, OK?” He sighed and nodded then left me be. My pigheadedness came back to haunt me. Within two months of him leaving I was forced out, devastated to have been told I was being demoted to secretary rather than the managerial position I occupied. The new owner regarded women in engineering companies as ‘tea-girls and typists’ so if I didn’t comply then tough luck. A long tearful chat with Mary and Bob that night was enough and my notice went in next morning. So now unemployed but after moping about getting in Bob’s way I decided to have a weekend in the coffin to do some thinking alone. He seemed quick to comply and helped set things up on the Friday, the drinks and stuff much tastier now I’d worked out how to get it right. Also teaching Mary how it worked. The lid went down and he screwed me closed. I half hoped he’d bury me but instead shifted the casket to one side and they didn’t use the basement at all. A nice quiet weekend followed and I was much happier when freedom came on the Sunday night. Mary moved in two months before the big day as she had offers for her place. A fat cheque landed in our accounts even after the eye-watering tax bill and she was quick to see I got a share. Grateful for that we went to for a little dinner to celebrate. Both of us looked great, me in my black dress, Mary in the midnight blue outfit worn the night we’d had in San Francisco. After the meal I bumped into a couple of former work colleagues and decided to allow the others to go home while I stayed out for an hour or so. “You behave yourself, young lady,” he grinned waggling a finger and Mary chuckled. “Nearly thirty now, I can cope! Besides I’ve had my regulation two drinks, I’m only on the coffee now,” I grinned and waved them off, Margie and Katryn waiting patiently by the door. We went back in, sat down with a steaming jug of best Colombian brew and I caught up on news from ‘the coalface’ Marge saying it was bad there now, both women were thinking of quitting. “You got out just in time Sally love, we’re going to give it another month then I‘m out too. Kat will probably follow,” and I saw her nodding. A tray of cocktails arrived twenty minutes later and I looked at the others, none of us had ordered and I was puzzled til the bartender said three guys in the corner had sent them across. We turned and saw my nemesis from the company and two of Bob’s engineers, one who’d left shortly before me, Maurice raising his pint glass in salute. “Guess it’s a ‘no-hard-feelings’ round,” I joked and the others grinned. We dithered as they were rather OTT for us, blue green and lastly an orange one with cherries and stuff jutting out on sticks. “Girlie drinks, for girlies I’ll bet they’re probably saying,” Kat joked and we all giggled. “Well, a shame to waste them…girlies…” I smiled so picked the green one, Marge went for blue leaving Kat, with orange. “Bottom’s up…” Katryn said then I daintily sipped mine, hoping it’d be some sort of mint flavouring. I rolled it over my tongue… “Oh bloody hell…” I wheezed, trying not to cough, “It’s foul, what the heck is it…?” and Marge stared at me having knocked half of hers back. “Water…quickly Sal…” she muttered and thankfully this place has iced jugs of the stuff on a central table. I came back and she grabbed a glass and put that back in one. “I’m gonna complain ‘bout these,” Katryn growled and I was nodding, water being drunk now as I tried to get the taste out of my mouth. Margie sat there staring at the remains of her drink and I thought she was shaking. “You alright Ma…?” I began and she shook her head. “No, I feel rubbish…” she muttered and I turned to look at Maurice’s gathering to see what their reaction was, only to see they’d gone! The bartender wiping down the table as he cleared the glasses. We needed help and I went across, not feeling that brilliant myself now as I reached him. “Excuse me buddy,” I said, tapping his arm. “Those drinks you gave us that these guys bought, I think they’ve been spiked. My mates are in trouble,” and he turned to look in surprise. Seeing me standing there, looking peaky and his face fell as he peered over my shoulder at Marge who was leaning back, eyes closed with Kat coughing too. “OK missy, you go sit down, I’ll call for an ambulance, OK?” I nodded and thanked him, wobbling back to the corner, falling into my seat and I looked back to see him on the phone, waving off a customer who wanted serving. He came across with a bucket and towels, just in time as Margie grabbed it and threw up, thankfully straight into it. “Right, done the call love, they’re a bit busy so it’ll be as fast as poss, OK?” Well it wasn’t but at least he was serious and I thanked him, asking the guy to shoo off a couple of people watching us. He did so and they left, one saying women shouldn’t be drinking if they couldn’t handle it! I told him in no certain terms to clear off and a few people stared at me. Feeling shameful seeing Kat was crying, Margie slumped against the cushions and she really was shaking now. I was pleased to hear sirens getting closer and soon I was wincing as they were right outside, the lights flashing SO brightly. Two guys thundered in, hi-viz jackets a welcome sight as their bags dropped onto the sofas and they began working on us, naturally Margie was first while an arriving police officer sat down and tried talking to me about what happened. I wasn’t really in the mood, my mouth was dry despite the water but I gradually told him. Naming the three guys but the copper said he didn’t believe me! “You girls just cannot handle your booze! I’ve seen it too often in this town.” Even the bartender got brushed off when he tried to confirm what I’d said was the truth. Raising his voice and the officer told him to back off. I was getting anxious now, tears not far away because of his attitude. “Think you better ring his station, get a real one here, not a guy on a power trip” I said to the barman who did his best not to grin. Only for officer idiot to reach over and jab a finger into my chest telling me to shut up. However it went further forward than he expected and it poked me on the nipple. “You dirty bastard!” I shouted, making more people turn and stare. I also swatted his hand away and he jumped to his feet while I staggered to mine. “Right, you’re under arrest love…” he snapped, reaching for his cuffs and even the paramedics looked up from their work on Katryn and one protested, “she’s done nothing wrong, leave her be…” But before I could react he’d cuffed my left arm and was twisting it behind me. I squealed and he grinned then grabbed my other arm, slapping it in and securing them tight. Now I really screamed as he pushed me down onto the sofa, my head striking the side and I felt faint now as he stood there warning me not to struggle or else. Getting on his radio to try calling for reinforcements. The only help that arrived was for me. Several guys came over having realised what was happening, two of them grabbing the officer and wrestling him to the floor and now it really kicked off. Someone, an older lady even helped me sit down, my head pounding and I felt sick, but with the damn cuffs on could do nothing except cry and she wiped my eyes with a tissue, that bit of kindness probably stopping me freaking out. A hulking great guy found the handcuff keys in the struggling policeman’s uniform and freed me, saying he was actually a fellow officer, a Detective Inspector no less but from a different station and he’d sort this out. Showing the ambulanceman his warrant card and Jason, the kindly medic nodded to me. “It’s gen missy and thanks Sir, now lets get you treated love.” My wrists had marks on from the cuffs and he fed me painkillers or something like that. Making me drink way too much liquid too and I desperately needed the loo. The lady who’d done my face took me there, turned out she was the D.I’s wife and we vanished into the disabled cubicle where I vomited explosively into the bowl. I didn’t realise that was the intention, to flush the drugs out of my system but she waited till my heaving stopped, turning round and I paused… “I’ll wait outside honey,” she chuckled and stepped away, closing the door allowing me privacy. Emerging after a clean up, with empty bowels I grinned tiredly but was worried about what Bob and Mary would say when they found out. Mrs D.I helped me reaffix my slap then led me back to the bar. Most of the crowd had gone, so had Margie and Kat in the ambulance but I shuddered on seeing more policemen there, convinced they would arrest me again. But my helper’s husband was doing a sterling job, having witnessed the whole thing and soon I watched my second nemesis being cuffed and led away by others. I gave a statement then asked about getting a taxi home, only for Bob and Mary to come in moments later and they looked aghast. I burst into tears again, rushing into their arms and hugging both tightly to me. The D.I sat us down and assured me that no further action was being taken against me, but that it was unlikely that they’d be able to prove it was Maurice or his cohorts who’d drugged our drinks. Even the barman was appalled, he’d deposited the tray on their table, only to be called five minutes later and told to bring them to ours. “It HAD to be them, Sir,” he stormed and I nodded in agreement but just wanted to go home and forget about it. Mary drove us back and I thanked them with hugs before fleeing in tears to my room. Bob later knocked on the door but I refused to open it and he said if I needed him I just had to ask. Right now I wanted to be alone and politely said so, blew a kiss then threw myself into bed. That event really battered my self-confidence, way more than the demotion. I was convinced everyone had it in for me and panicked when asked to go to the shops. Mary did a magnificent job and after two weeks of ‘house arrest’ she coaxed me into town to pick up the dress I’d be wearing for their wedding. Not quite a bridemaids’ one but an outfit to do me justice. The smile I had on modelling it in the shop proved that maybe I was getting over it now. Not so when we got confirmation that the inquiries were being dropped and I began to worry again. Even Bob was starting to get concerned. They were due on honeymoon three days after the wedding, but if I couldn’t get a grip then they might have to cancel it. “Well how else can we get round it?” he sighed in the kitchen. I managed not to throw a strop and said I would consider staying in my coffin for that time til they returned. Mary was amazed at the idea. “But it’s almost three weeks darling, surely your food and stuff would run out?” she said but I shook my head. “No, I’ve been tweaking the system for a long time, testing it for ages. It’s why I haven’t used it for a month while checking out ideas. I know it’ll be fine, trust me guys.” They sent me outside to cut the lawn and discussed it and on return an hour later gave their consent. But suggested I Skype Milly first to ask her opinion. Mary knew I talked often with the Californian so that night I called her. Upset to discover Mil couldn’t get a visa to attend the wedding having been invited so commiserations were offered. We talked for ages and I said what I’d proposed. “Well if that’s your way of dealing with it Sal, and your folks okay it then I guess it’s a yes from me too. You’re a wacko love, just let me know when you ‘return’ OK?” I agreed, waved her goodbye and switched off. I went downstairs and looked at them. Mary knew and came across and hugged me. “OK honey, we’ll do it.” Bob nodding and I challenged him to make me safer than ever before. “Yes sweetheart, I’ll try to do that. I promise.” The wedding was a quiet affair. Just them and me, two of my girlfriends and some of Bob and Mary’s closest acquaintances at the registry office. I managed not to sob as I handed the rings over, feeling nice in my new dress and heels. Once the event was done we had the reception at a local pub and soon they retired to the house, I went to a hotel with my friends to give them space and this time we managed not to get in any trouble! Since deciding to ‘go down’ for the time required I’d been asked not to go below stairs. Bob worked tirelessly alone doing heaven knows what. Mary and I went out frequently at his request sometimes all day and I’d love to know what he was up to. But a promise of ‘no peeking’ was to be obeyed or I’d have to stay up. Now the day dawned and Mary helped me dress. And what an outfit too, not a real bridal gown but a formal silk one all the same. No train or veils but it looked stunning and I cried when she first showed it to me. “I read the stories love, it’s the best I could do…” she said and got buried in hugs. Make-up and hair followed then finest underwear was supplied and she allowed me to fit the tubes alone. I was trembling as finally I was eased into the frock and it was drawn around me and zipped to my neck, lastly stepping into three-inch heels. Going to my dressing table I grabbed one of Donna’s favourite lockets from my jewellery box and slipped the necklace around. Dropping it inside the dress where it nestled into my cleavage. Mary took many photos then showed me them and I nearly wept again. “Don’t you dare smudge…” she joked, holding hands as I promised her I’d be alright. “I know darling, its going to be painful for us to be apart but I understand.”

The Garden

Fri, 14 Nov 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Right now I am thinking of you.

Sipping my Coffee, I look from my kitchen window across my small backyard, to that small patch of garden, and smile.

I am thinking of you, and it fills me with satisfaction, with pleasure, that I know you are probably thinking of me.

Actually, I am sure you are, its been 24 hrs since my last visit.

I make breakfast, eggs bacon, toast for me. Two dry cereal biscuits for you.

The Garden

Fri, 14 Nov 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Right now I am thinking of you.

Sipping my Coffee, I look from my kitchen window across my small backyard, to that small patch of garden, and smile.

I am thinking of you, and it fills me with satisfaction, with pleasure, that I know you are probably thinking of me.

Actually, I am sure you are, its been 24 hrs since my last visit.

I make breakfast, eggs bacon, toast for me. Two dry cereal biscuits for you.

Bondage Peril - The Concrete Crypt

Mon, 18 Aug 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Daniel began to stir, his head fuzzy and aching. At first he was dimly unaware of anything, semi-conscious and struggling to open his eyes. His head throbbed as he shook it, trying to shake off the sleep that was trying to draw him back into unconsciousness. Awareness flickered as he tried to rub his eyes and realised that he couldn’t move his arms. Struggling to make sense of things, he opened his eyes and saw…nothing. Pitch black. What was this? His arms were pinned behind him. A few moments of struggle revealed that he was tied up.

Bondage Peril - The Concrete Crypt

Mon, 18 Aug 2014 00:00:00 +0000

My 48 Hour Adventure

Wed, 06 Aug 2014 00:00:00 +0000

It all started with these conversations with this guy in Europe. He was big on burying guys in sand. I had some experience in that and enjoyed the times I was buried. But I sensed that he was way beyond me in terms of experience and endurance. Most of my burials had been sort duration and fairly shallow. Oh, yes, I was buried once deeply on a warm beach in the Caribbean butt naked, and that one lasted a couple of hours. Since I am writing this in the past tense, I did survive what was about to happen, but it was one of the most intense experiences of my life.

My 48 Hour Adventure

Wed, 06 Aug 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Riding Lessons 4

Sat, 05 Jul 2014 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part three

Part 4

My mind was reeling after I left the grooms flat the next day. We had cum so many times together, now I drove myself home, cleaner but with a slight tang of horse manure hanging in my nostrils, I was sure, as I visited the local supermarket that people noticed that I still smelled but I lived in a rural location and the scent of muck was familiar and just marked you as a local rather than a holidaying townie so I wore my mixed scent, the hint of female musk tangled with the remains of the muck heap as a badge of honour.

Riding Lessons 3

Sat, 28 Jun 2014 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part two

Part 3

Authors Note: Just to give you a warning, this chapter has more humiliation and punishment than traditional WAM and there is a quantity of horse manure for someone who has misbehaved. It follows on from part 2.

Sarah had not looked shocked some hours later when she had freed me from my sticky itchy bondage. Hilary had left the drying lamps on so the stuff had set like concrete trapping my body. Sarah had first pried my body from the floor with a shovel before washing a quantity of the mess from me. I was still pretty well caked when she stood me up.

The Date

Mon, 28 Apr 2014 00:00:00 +0000

It was a nice evening and after a nice bath I sat at my makeup mirror and was brushing my hair. Out of the corners of my eyes I saw the door to our bedroom swung open and you came in. As usual you stepped behind me and placed your hands on my shoulders. I smiled up to your image in the mirror, seeing you glancing down to me. While I continued to brush my hair you lent down a little to inhale the fresh scent of my hair.

Prank Gone Wild

Fri, 18 Apr 2014 00:00:00 +0000

“You live here?” said Erika, awestruck by the size and style of the house, as it was clearly owned by someone wealthy. “Yes, but you know I can’t own something like this,” answered Holly humorously. “At least not yet. My friend Dina’s uncle owns it, and lets us stay here rent free in exchange for keeping an eye on it along with cutting the grass and stuff.”

“Hi there,” greeted Dina, opening the front. “I’m Dina. Come on in.” “Thanks. I’m Erika,” said Erika. The three young women went into the living room and relaxed. Erika was passing through, and took the opportunity to meet up with her old friend Holly, who she knew since grade school. Now in their early twenties, they had a lot of catching up to do. Each were attractive young women in their own way: Dina was a tall, slender young woman who stood around 5 foot 9 inches tall with dirty blonde hair that she combed straight that went slightly past her ears at any angle to the base of her neck, with brown eyes and a great tan; Holly stood around 5 foot 6 inches tall, and was the typical “All American Girl” with her long strawberry-reddish blonde hair, fair alabaster white skin, and soft brown eyes; Erika was your typical tomboy, who stood about 5 foot 4 inches tall, with short black hair, blue eyes, with an athletic physique highlighted by her strong, powerful legs from running and biking to workout. It was a few years since Holly and Erika had seen each other, so much of their conversation was on how much each they had changed. Whereas Erika had pretty much looked and stayed the same with her tomboyish appearance, Holly had matured from a shy redhead to a confident and extremely attractive young woman. Dina simply enjoyed their company, along with the silly stories of what they were like as kids growing up in the same neighborhood. “The pool’s just about ready,” offered Dina. “Great,” said Holly. “I’ve been dying for a swim since the morning.” “You have your own pool?” commented Erika. “Pool, recreation room, fully stocked bar,” added Dina pleasantly. “And all we have to do is take care of the place.”

Amy

Sat, 08 Mar 2014 00:00:00 +0000

One

Amy sat down in her rather ostentatious living room. At 31, she was wealthy due to daddy’s foresight in setting her up with the right investments and portfolios. She did appreciate the advantages that having wealth gave her but something was missing. She had tried to find for a very long time but failing to recognize what she wanted. Then she met Kristen. Kristen taught her about submission. The more she learned the more she craved to be placed in stringent helpless bondage. To be left to be found and then left to the mercy of her rescuer. Her appointment with a friend of Kristen’s was in just over an hour. She had to change her panties twice now simple thinking about what was to come.

The Return Home

Sat, 28 Dec 2013 00:00:00 +0000

For Marie to suggest that she wanted to tie him was unusual, normally, Alan had to ask for it and very rarely got what he wanted. Perhaps his wife of nearly 20 years was finally getting ‘kinky’.

Alan worked abroad a great deal, installing computer systems; some major installations could take him abroad for 6 months. He was home now and didn’t have any new jobs on the horizon, not a problem as he was so well paid the house, cars and boat were all paid for, and there was plenty of money in investments and savings, so he had suggested early retirement to Marie.

The Return Home

Sat, 28 Dec 2013 00:00:00 +0000

For Marie to suggest that she wanted to tie him was unusual, normally, Alan had to ask for it and very rarely got what he wanted. Perhaps his wife of nearly 20 years was finally getting ‘kinky’.

Kyle's Rotten Day

Wed, 20 Nov 2013 00:00:00 +0000

His temper was bad. All the way from the boat to the stack it got even worse. Kyle had no luck this day. First his boss fired him, then he noticed that his car had some troubles with the engines and now? Not even his traps had anything worthwhile in it. Crabs, yes, dozens of them in each of his fish traps. He was close to losing his temper once and for all.

Kyle's Rotten Day

Wed, 20 Nov 2013 00:00:00 +0000

The Box

Thu, 05 Sep 2013 00:00:00 +0000

Best Laid Plans

Sat, 02 Mar 2013 00:00:00 +0000

Larry’s white Audi rolled up the driveway. He stepped out, walked around the front, headed for my back door. I met him half way.

“Hey, Larry.”

“Uh, uh hi, Julian.”

Then came an uncomfortable silence. I let it stretch a bit.

“Not what you were expecting, hm?”

“What?”

“Me and not Lady Di. I used her phone to text you. She’s waiting for you around back. Come on.”

I led him down the drive and across the patio.

Best Laid Plans

Sat, 02 Mar 2013 00:00:00 +0000

Larry’s white Audi rolled up the driveway. He stepped out, walked around the front, headed for my back door. I met him half way.

“Hey, Larry.”

“Uh, uh hi, Julian.”

Then came an uncomfortable silence. I let it stretch a bit.

“Not what you were expecting, hm?”

“What?”

“Me and not Lady Di. I used her phone to text you. She’s waiting for you around back. Come on.”

I led him down the drive and across the patio.

The Last Day of Her 29th Year Part 2: The Death of Doctor Vader

Fri, 15 Feb 2013 00:00:00 +0000

(a spiritual sequel to “the last day of her 29th year“)

Part 2: The Death of Doctor Vader

“Well hello there” Hazel grinned.

“No sense in struggling too hard, you might hurt yourself” She chuckled as she knelt, to be face to face with her captive. Georgia tested her bonds and groaned into her ring-gag, but she was held tightly in place. She was strapped tightly, in a kneeling position, her arms pulled tight behind her back and secured to some sort of metal frame.

The Last Day of Her 29th Year

Wed, 23 Jan 2013 00:00:00 +0000

It almost seemed like she was sleeping as I looked at her. She lay motionless, on the sofa as I sat in the armchair opposite her. She looked comfortable, but her eyes. Her eyes were wide open. She looked panic stricken as she stared back at me. I knew why of course, I had done this to her. She couldn’t move anything but her eyes. I had waited, hidden in her house for hours until the right moment to strike and before she’d even known I was there I had plunged the needle in and unloaded it’s contents into her blood stream. It was a fast acting serum. She had slumped almost immediately. Paralysed. I sat in the armchair, just looking at her for a few more minutes before I got up.

Trick Or Treat

Tue, 30 Oct 2012 00:00:00 +0000

A Halloween Special 2012 Tale

October 31st, 2009, Halloween

Horsten Torrens-Sloan hurled the letter angrily at the pile of documents that had piled up on his desk. This was the final straw. He’d already known that the once respected merchant bank that managed the majority of his investments had collapsed; his accountant’s letter merely confirmed that they had no assets worth pursuing in the courts.

Whatever the details, Horsten’s circumstances were now much diminished. His seemingly inexhaustible wealth was gone. He would be able to live, but it would be a miserable, frugal existence and not the luxury that he had known over the last fifty two years. If only he could get rid of the house, he would be much better off in terms of capital and reduced expenses, but that simply wasn’t an option. The house had become a millstone around his neck.

Area 22

Fri, 07 Sep 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Before there was Area 51, there was Area 22. There are no aliens there, but no one knows exactly what IS there.

Maggie pulled up to the heavy, metal gate. It was clearly locked and radiator piercing tubes projected from it. Not that she planned to ram it. It was festooned with signs: KEEP OUT, NO TRESSPASSING, GOVERNMENT PROPERTY, RESTRICTED AREA, and others.

Maggie retrieved her car registration and insurance card from the glove box. She tucked them into her wallet. In the back seat, she propped the cardboard sign in the rear window: tag stolen BJD 176. Her tag hadn’t been stolen. She had seen a green Honda in a parking lot a while back. Same year, make, and model as her car. Same color even. She’d made a note of the tag number. It wasn’t the best ruse. They could always trace the VIN, but it was better than nothing. Maggie popped the trunk, peeled back the carpet, lifted the cover to the spare tire well. A minute with a screwdriver and her license plate joined her wallet in the hole. She grabbed her camera, replaced the batteries, checked it, and dropped the lid.

Area 22

Fri, 07 Sep 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Before there was Area 51, there was Area 22. There are no aliens there, but no one knows exactly what IS there.

End of Days

Mon, 27 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Author’s Note: This is my final fictional bondage story. It is my hope that you all enjoy my swan song, so to speak.

Prologue Once, a very, very long time ago, a world was created. This world was very similar to our own: It was called Earth; all the continents were there, along with all the major cities, and nations, though there were a few minor differences. There were different geological landscapes, including hidden cities, and there were countries that existed there, that do not exist in our reality. But for the most part, history unfolded there much like it did on ours, with all manner of stories that spanned all the eras and epochs. But just as every tale has an ending, it has a beginning. The very first story recorded in this world told of a man who lived in ancient Egypt. His name was Targonamey. Targonamey was an ambitious adviser to the pharaoh, one who desired many things, as do all beings who’s stories are told. But Targonamey was cunning and scheming; he desired more then the rules or practices of his time and society allowed. Wealth and power were not enough. Eventually, through his gift of magic and sorcery, he sought to gain the throne of Egypt himself, where he could set himself up as the immortal ruler of all the worlds. But it was not to be. His story, like everyone else’s, eventually came to its allotted end. And while his tale was, in part, determined for him, his choices influenced the ending. His scheming, plots, and sorcery eventually led to his downfall, and an ending that was far from what he wanted.

End of Days 11: The Field of Peace

Mon, 27 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

continues from part ten

Part 11: The Field of Peace

There was nothing but light, bright and powerful, surrounding Quinn until she couldn’t see anything but the brilliant white around her. But it wasn’t painful to look at; in fact, it had a warmth to it that was soothing, and Quinn wondered if this was the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel that she had heard so much about. Then the light faded away. But as it went, something else came in its place: music. It wasn’t a heavenly choir, nor were there words, but it was the most soothing, relaxing music Quinn had ever heard. Then, in the blink of an eye, Quinn felt herself lying on something soft. Looking down, she was surprised to see that she was lying on what appeared to be a cloud. All around her were giant clouds, lit up in the colors of an unseen sunset. Was this heaven? It certainly felt like it; the air was filled with the most soothing peace Quinn could imagine, and the more she bathed in it, the more her cares and worries slipped away, until she felt as if she could just lie here forever, and be completely content, and at peace with herself. But then again, if this was heaven, where was her robes, wings, halo, and harp? She looked down at herself and found none of those things. She was naked, but she felt no shame at all. In fact, she was delighted to see that, although she was still in her fifties, there wasn’t a wrinkle or piece of saggy skin to be found, nor were there any of the scrapes or bruises she had acquired recently. Even her breasts were firm and perfect, jiggling ever so slightly as she swayed back and forth, watching them go. Looking over, she saw that she didn’t have to be naked, for her rubber body glove, trench coat, gloves, and boots were lying beside her, clean and fresh, as if they were brand new. She pulled them on, and was delighted to find out that they were more comfortable then ever, tight, slick, and hugging her body all over, yet without any folds or creases, as if a tailor had re-made them to fit her perfectly. There was no doubt in her mind now… this was indeed heaven. But as she looked around, there was no one else to be seen. Was she the only one here? There were footsteps in the distance. Looking ahead, Quinn watched as some of the clouds came together, forming a path as someone appeared, walking towards her. Exactly who it was, Quinn couldn’t tell, but the figure had no wings or robes, nor did it glow with a divine presence. As it got closer, she was surprised to see that the figure wasn’t even human at all. The figure was a velociraptor, tall, its skin dark, but not overly so. It walked with a human gait, its long tail swishing as it came towards her, yet there was no indication that it was interested in eating her. In fact, it seemed to have a smile on its face, which seemed impossible. Dinosaurs, Quinn remembered, didn’t have the ability to smile. Yet this one was. The raptor walked up to Quinn, and looked down at her. “Hello Quinn.” Quinn took a step back, caught off guard at the sight of a talking velociraptor. But the shock only lasted a moment, for the raptor crouched, so as to be at her level. There was a calm, reassuring smile upon its face, like the one a mother would give to a child. And its eyes… they were human eyes, full of life and personality, and not the dark, emotionless orbs of an animal. “Who are you?” Quinn asked, wondering if she had somehow ended up in dinosaur heaven. “I am the storyteller,” the raptor said. Surprised, Quinn said, “Then… you’re God?” The raptor shook his head. “Not in the manner that you’re thinking.” “But… you’re the storyteller Targonamey was talking about?” The raptor nodded. “Then… you created my world. And all the others, and… me.” The raptor nodded. “I did.” Standing face to face with her creator, Quinn felt as if she should fall to her knees and worship him, or something similar. Yet, he didn’t seem at all interested in being worshiped. Instead, he seemed delighted to see her, for he had an aura that was calm, reassuring, and pleasant to feel. “What happened?” Quinn asked, changing the subject. “To earth? To everything and everyone?” “It ended,” the raptor said simply. Quinn looked around. “Is this heaven?” “Not quite. It’s the waiting room, so to speak. And you will be the last one ever to walk through it.” Quinn looked around, slightly confused, but still smiling. “Then why do I feel so good? This certainly feels like heaven.” “Indeed. After all you, and all the others went through, I thought it was only fair to make things feel good.” The raptor stood, started to head back the way he came. “Come,” he said. “Walk with me.” Quinn gladly did so. Though taller, and with longer legs, the raptor went at a slow pace, easily allowing Quinn to keep up with him as they walked through the clouds, which kept forming the path in front of them as they walked. “You have many questions,” the raptor said after a moment. “The understatement of the year.” “What would you like to ask?” Quinn thought, unsure. Here she was, face to face with a being who had the power of a god, to create life, and to reshape reality as he saw fit. What to ask him? “So even though you’re not God, you’re the god of my universe, and all the others you created?” “In those words, yes.” “Then… are we still in a story?” “Oh yes.” Quinn frowned. “Then… if you’re a storyteller, and you’re with me in a story then… how does that even work?” “Try not to think about it too much,” the raptor said. “You’ll get a headache.” Taking his advice, Quinn turned her thoughts elsewhere. “So you created everything?” “In your universes, yes. Xesex, Driders, Targonamey, and all their worlds, I did create.” “And they’re gone now?” “The worlds are,” the raptor said. “But its inhabitants are not.” Quinn looked around, but there was no one else in sight. She also sensed that they were the only ones inside this place. “Was it you who stopped me?” Quinn asked. “On the pyramid?” The raptor nodded. “And the scroll… was that you as well?” The raptor nodded again. “I slipped it to Xesex.” “So you were essentially in control of everything, then?” “Mostly,” the raptor said. “I guided it, but I allowed you and the others to make your own choices, and your own actions.” Though she didn’t feel in the slightest bit angry, Quinn asked her next question without pondering how it would sound. “Well, next comes the big question… why’d you make such a horrible universe?”

End of Days 2: A Great Discovery

Mon, 27 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

continues from part one

Part 2: A Great Discovery

5000 years later…

“Steve?” Grabbing the radio, Steve brought it up. “Yes?” “You’ll want to come down here “I think we’ve got something!” Steve grinned. “Really? I’ll be right there!” Even as the radio was put down, Steve was already grabbing his camera and running out of the tent. For once, he was able to ignore the blistering heat of the desert as he headed towards the dig site. Around him, men and women were eagerly shouting and running towards the dig site, all eager to see what had been discovered. From within the crowds, Steve’s supervisor emerged, jogged over. An Indian woman, eighteen years Steve’s senior, she looked slightly out of place among the local workers, but her well muscled body left no doubt that she was more then capable of joining them on their excavations. “So what do we got?” Steve asked, his excitement almost overwhelming him. “Scanners show there’s something man sized at the bottom of the pit,” Geeta said. “With any luck, we should hit it within the next few minutes.” Steve grinned. “Awesome.” Leading the way, Geeta led him back towards the dig site, which was nestled near a large outcropping of rock that jutted up from the desert sand. There were numerous scaffolding platforms, winches, and cables strung about a deep hole that was being dug; at fifty feet, it had been very difficult to dig down that deep, but for the prize that might lurk down there, it would be worth all the work, blood, and sweat that had poured into digging. Reaching the scaffolding, Geeta shooed the curious workers aside. While they were entitled to watch the unveiling, they would need to do so from a spot where they wouldn’t interfere with the others. “You said man sized,” Steve told Geeta as they both got on a ladder and started down. “I take it you meant Sarcophagus sized?” “Yes,” Geeta said. “Precisely. And one of the bigger ones we’ve found.” They got off at the bottom of the pit. “Really? How so?” “If our scans are correct, then the sarcophagus is about twenty percent thicker then any other one we’ve found, that could mean that the mummy inside is that of a very important person.” “Which means they’re buried with treasure!” Young as he was at the age of twenty, Steve still held dreams of finding gold and all manner of treasure out here on these digs. So far, during his foreign exchange trip for the university, that had yet to happen, but he still held out hope. Geeta smiled. “Possibly, or he just wanted to be extra sure his rest would remain undisturbed.” “Well, afraid his luck is about to run out,” Steve said, eagerly climbing down more platforms and ladders. They finally reached the bottom of the pit, where several workers were already digging away at the caked mud, shovels tossing the earth aside and into baskets, where they were rapidly carried up to the surface, emptied, then brought down again. The workers, though weary and worn out from weeks of work, now had a surge of strength, and were tirelessly shoveling, eager to find what was beneath their feet. Jumping down with them, Geeta took a shovel and joined in, her muscles bulging as she scooped out the hard ground. Above, Steve stayed where he was, taking pictures, for his primary task on this expedition was documenting every find they came across. And while they had discovered some pottery and a few settlements, this find promised to be the greatest of all. The group dug for several more moments before Geeta’s shovel struck something hard. Everyone stopped, and looked at each other. A hush fell upon the site. Kneeling, Geeta took a hand trowel, started to carefully dig away at the last of the mud remaining. With several scoops, the earth was pushed away, and she found herself looking at a thick stone surface, jagged and worn down. Almost unable to breathe, she kept scooping the earth away, revealing more and more of the stone. And with each scoop, it became clear that this was something man-made, and not of the earth. A few minutes later, and she finally revealed the massive, aged lid of a sarcophagus long buried. Long had they searched for it, and now that it was before their eyes, she couldn’t help but smile. As the workers around them cheered, Steve couldn’t stop grinning either.

Bondage Burial

Tue, 14 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Rebecca Wilson arrived at the funeral parlour late Friday afternoon where her boyfriend was awaiting her. The girl strode in carrying the bag containing a wedding dress for a forthcoming ‘bondage burial’ scenario. Karl grinned as she dumped it on his desk and gave him the mother of all snogs. “Might have guessed you’d wear that honey. Will Judith mind you taking it from the shop?” Rebecca looked down, “Very unlikely, seeming as its almost my uniform. Besides we’re closed for redevelopment all next week. That’s why I’m doing the winter collection photoshoot over at Harrenby Hall on Monday.” she replied with a grin. The girl had worked in Miss Renshaw’s establishment for three years now. The fact Judith had found Rebecca loved wearing formal gowns of all sorts was pleasing to the older woman. Who promptly told her that she was allowed to model their stock while on the premises. Giving the youngster the thrill of wearing restrictive clothing at all times. Strutting and swishing all day while sewn into a tight corset with stockings too. Rebecca was normally in a state of arousal for most of that, occasionally leaving it all on to go home. Thus Karl had the opportunity to undo her before the obvious. The stuff she’d be wearing next week was just as good. So you ready to be ‘interred for the weekend then?” he asked and she nodded eagerly. A long held dream of hers about to become reality. She’d read so much about these on Gromets’ story site, plus others and eventually confessing to Karl, her boyfriend of six years who just by chance had recently begun work at the parlour. He’d looked at what she’d been reading and too was hooked. They’d often tied the other up, but reading about it soon upped the ante and their experiences increased. But as yet she’d never been bound wearing a dress like this one. Within a few months he’d managed, with some creative accounting to ‘relieve’ the place of a casket. Taking it home and spending a long while working out how to bind his girl better than the boxes they used at the moment. Now the coffin was back in his workplace with some very interesting additions to its interior and she, having not seen them, was dying to know how she’d ‘be tightly restrained inside’. The girl looked round, nervously thinking Mr Walters might come in, only to be assured that the boss was off for the weekend and they had the place to themselves. It’d been a quiet summer season so the other workers all had got second jobs, leaving Karl to act as live-in weekend caretaker. The place was packed with caskets but everyone in town seemed to be in good health at the moment. Rebecca waited till he made the building secure before starting to disrobe. Karl smiling as she slipped out of the slinky cream frock and stood there in her underwear, before that came off as well. “Bridal stuff is better” she grinned and over the next few minutes donned the sexiest lingerie he’d ever thought his girl possessed. He helped lace her torso into the corset then proceeded to assist her in slithering into the dress. Sighing as he zipped her up, running both hands over her curves once she’d turned round for a kiss. A brief repair of makeup then Rebecca stepped into three-inch heels, allowing him to buckle the straps and said she was ready for the last bits. Karl fitted her with the catheter and stuff, surprising but delighting Rebecca by including a decent sized vibrator before replacing her panties. Lastly the solid steel chastity belt was applied over the top. The girl trying and failing to even push the vib out an inch as the belt had been custom measured for her two months ago. He came out and tidied up her dress and they embraced as she thanked him for getting all this done for her. “Could you imagine what Judith would say if she knew about the belt?” She grinned but her eyes widened as he produced a thick set of manacles and motioned Rebecca to place both wrists behind her back. The girl shuddering as he locked them, removing the key and slipping it into a pocket. “What are…” she began as he took her arm, ordering her to be quiet. Miss Wilson paused, for the first time having second thoughts. Karl saw her face change and apologised for the way he’d spoken. She nodded, accepted a kiss and didn’t resist as he led his now trembling ‘bride’ into the room where her casket lay on the table. The ramps leading into the furnace… thankfully both powered down as one was due for re-lining, sitting at one end of the rails. Karl brought her to the top, showing her a door, opening the three heavy bolts and sliding it to reveal the space beyond. She peered with some difficulty and trembled. “I’m going in there… In my coffin?” she whispered and shuddered again when he said that was correct. The lass surprised it went so far in. Nearly twenty feet or so and the same width, with pipes hanging down and he explained what they did. A small internal belt allowed them to move the coffins off to one side, the last one to the left couldn’t even be seen it from the doorway. Six was the maximum they could do in this one if required. The other could take twenty but was rarely used. In fact they stored a few damaged caskets in there to save space. “That’s where yours’ came from” he’d grinned telling her last month that he’d acquired one. The dent on the side of hers was enough for it not to be used. “Guess it’s too late to back out eh?” she asked, looking at him and Karl paused. “Well, I’ve spent a lot getting it set up, but if you want out, now is your only chance.” “No, I DO want it, please Karl you know me well enough by now” she said at last and saw him smile, she did too and they had another careful kiss. “OK, show me what you…oh my goodness!” Rebecca exclaimed as Karl opened the casket and she saw the inside. He saw a flash of wanting in those captivating grey eyes of hers. She looked surprised that there were no bindings in the casket and the only padding appeared to be on the sidewall. The box at the top end contained her feeding bottle; the one at the other held the tubes to carry away her waste products. As their plan was for her to remain locked in the coffin overnight at the parlour. Once finding out the furnace was off for rework too she’d grinned, making him promise to slide the whole set up right inside and secure that door too! Then Rebecca saw why the casket was bare, as Karl wheeled what appeared to be a human sized cage from a side room and parked it nearby. She looked at it, seeing the back wall behind the thick fixed collar and waistband was the same type and colour fabric as the casket lining. Two struts poked up from the platform floor, each with restraints attached, just above a pair of shoes mounted on the end. These seemed identical to the ones she was wearing and obviously part of the set up. “So that’s why you wouldn’t let me in the workshop! You actually made one!” she exclaimed looking at what he now said was a cage. “Like that one in the Scottish story.” They’d read that on the site too, looked up some photos of these devices from the Historical Society and he’d made one. Brought up to date for this session of hers and she looked closely at the thick bindings that were soon to hold her helpless. Just as well Karl didn’t know how wet she was already! “OK honey, here we go,” he said and freed her wrists before doing them to the front again, then moved Rebecca around till she could be eased back into the cage under his instructions on when to step up and suchlike. Her breathing was very shallow as she felt her legs hit the ankle cuffs, back resting against the padding. She looked down and saw the thick band that was to enclose her waist, it looked a little small and she hoped he’d got the measurements right. The neck collar also seemed an inch or too high. “Stop there missy and I’ll do the shoes, left one first please.” Rebecca lifted as ordered and felt him remove the shoe, guiding her stocking clad foot into the fixed one on the end. “That ain’t three inches pet, more like five. Thank goodness I’ll not be walking,” she chuckled as he buckled the straps. Then she shuddered as the padded cuff was closed over her ankle. The click of a lock and rattle of key followed and the first of many bindings were done. Least the collar was now in the right place. ‘I’m being locked into a coffin’ she thought, cheeks glowing as Karl repeated this for the other. “How’s that love?” he asked and looked up, amazed to see her smiling, eyes closed as he stroked her legs. “It feels wonderful, just like whatshername in the story. Please carry on,” she whispered and it was his turn to grin now. He brought more cuffs out and locked them either side of her trembling knees, then secured the pairs together. Checking and finding now that she couldn’t move either limb an inch. Karl came up and she opened her eyes, lifting her bound arms over his head as they had another kiss. “No going back now love,” he said, easing the two parts of the belt round and asking her to breathe right in till he could click it shut. Of course she obeyed and he saw her flinch when the first little ‘tink’ came. Then another as he put pressure on each side. “Bit more honey, don’t want movement from your torso either”. Three clicks later he was satisfied and she felt the key being removed once he’d twisted it. “Golly that’s tight, but good too,” she moaned. Stepping away briefly Karl opened the box containing her bridal posy… and the cuffs that would be secured to the belt rather than the ones she was already wearing. These were part of the combination and he fitted them to the belt and opened both. Then Karl freed her wrists and before she could reach over for a last hug he slipped one into the padded cuff and quickly did the other. “You spoilsport” she chuckled and he grinned as the posy was handed over. Adjustments to the sleeves hid the metalwork and he reached for a mirror to show her. Rebecca was really impressed as with her hands together by her waist, the flowers really did camouflage the cuffs and she was thrilled. She now found out why there were holes in the rear panelling just above where her elbows were. Cuffs were applied, adjusted so the flat backs pressed into the fabric and locked, then Karl went behind and fed screws into the backboard. These went right into the restraints and actually pulled her arms deeper into the fabric. With the wristcuffs there as well she couldn’t move those limbs either now. “Collar next,” and she nodded, lifting her chin as ordered so the loop could be brought round. The padding gripped quite tight as she heard the lock engaging, but Karl made sure she could breathe fine before removing another key, this joining a ring on the desk. She’d hoped to be gagged during her interment but at first Karl had not approved. Only after a lot of research did he agree and secretly built a mask, replicating her face but enabling him to hide the tube for the liquid food substitute she’d be getting for the next two days. Rebecca wasn’t thrilled with the taste of the stuff, nor the fact the tube would need to go up through her nose then down the correct part of her throat. All these ideas had come off bondage sites and the pair grateful to the various authors. “I wonder if they know people bring their tales to life?” A lot of practice had taken place during the weeks leading up to this, to enable them to get it right. He approached and fitted the tube up into the box above her. Paused and acceded to her request to free the collar while it was inserted in case she retched. “Good idea honey. Should have done it first to allow you to get used to it. Want a few minutes out of there?” but he was surprised when she declined. “No, I love the feeling of being held. Just be careful mind” Rebecca replied. He nodded and gently slid it up, watching her eyes as they winced and she shook her head. “Stop! Just a moment.” and a brief coughing fit worried him. Once settled again they got it down, tested it and Miss Wilson was satisfied as he relocked the collar. “Right, last bits now and a surprise” he smiled as she wondered what it could be. Gasping as her mask appeared. “Oh wow, that’s amazing Karl” she exclaimed as he showed it to her. Explaining how it would fit over her face and be secured into the roof. The other end clipped to her collar. “OK, I’m ready then love” she said quickly, wanting SO much to be put into the coffin dressed and restrained like this. They had another snog then Karl told her to close both eyes while he put the mask over her face. She obeyed but was startled when the tongue of the gag touched her lips. “Oops, sorry, forgot to say it had that there” he said on hearing her grunt. Rebecca opened up as instructed and he slid the mask down till it clipped into the collar. It was much tighter than she thought, really pressing her head back into the padding behind. But again it was good that another piece of her body could now no longer move. He heard her breathing through the mouthhole and checked the nose pipe wasn’t trapped under the mask. “Ess. Ine.” She ‘said’ in reply to the questions. Though she did squeal as he expanded the gag to totally fill her mouth, forcing her chin hard into the base of the mask. “Uggh. Oooss it a it,” she pleaded and he took it back a notch. “Anks” Finally he brought the door round and she shuddered so much as the two locks were secured. “All done honey,” and she smiled as best she could behind the mask. He left her for a moment to settle and went off to use the bathroom. Coming back he turned the cage round to allow Rebecca to see what was coming next. She could see reasonably well through the gauze patches of the masks’ eyes and saw Karl fitting a small TV screen inside the coffin lid, just above where her face would be. He briefed the girl, saying that all this was being filmed and once she’d been ‘interred’ he’d show her the entire sequence of what they’d just been doing. Again it was something they’d read about and the lass wondered how they’d ever top this in weeks to come. She’d have to be really creative as they normally took it in turns. “Rate” she replied and he smiled then prepared the hoist, bringing it over and attaching the chains to the top of the cage. She squealed as the cage jerked into the air, swaying slightly as Karl brought it over, then Rebecca’s aspect changed as he lowered it back into the coffin. Now she could only see the ceiling and two big cobwebs on the lightshade! Karl opened the cage again then Rebecca felt hands going up her dress as he ferreted for the wastepipe ends then attached those to the box. Going back up and giving her legs a stroke. She’d have jumped a mile had her limbs not been so tightly bound. “Ice,” came the gagged squeal as he rubbed up and down and kept going till she started trembling. “Mmppph…ore” was sighed when he stopped. The cage door was closed and locked and she started as Karl attached the keys to the impressive ring then reached down and placed them amongst the posy. “Now you look after those honey,” he said and Rebecca squealed as the first part of the lid came over. Surely that was a bit over the top? She thought, watching as he came back with a drill. The girl now knowing she was moments away from her dream. Rebecca felt the first two screws going into the base then saw Karl smile as the next two were done. “Nearly there honey, farewell,” he said, bowing then the lass saw him bring the other part of the lid down. Darkness fell and she shuddered violently on hearing the last four screws being secured. She ran through it all. Bound at ankles, above and below knees, waist and elbows too. Her neck and with the top of the mask mounted from the roof pinning her head too. Plus she was gagged and plugged in all holes…well apart from her ears. Damn, that’ll be next time then! Rebecca thought. The TV screen flickered into life. Thankfully her eyes hadn’t adjusted yet to the darkness so it wasn’t too bad. The view from the camera showed her casket still on the floor. Karl sitting at the workbench with a small plate mounted on his engraving tool. “Just doing yours’ love” he said and a few minutes later he brought it over and held it to the camera so she could see it. Miss REBECCA WILSON. B 19-04-1978. D 02-07-2006. She smiled then frowned, as the 2nd was last Sunday. Today was the 7th and she quietly cursed him for getting the date wrong. He attached it to the coffin then spent the next half-hour giving the thing a damn good polishing. Rebecca soon forgot about the mistake as she saw Karl heading for the lift buttons. She trembled as the casket jerked and began to rise till it reached the level of the track. He opened the door of the furnace, the lass pleased to see he’d looked inside and checked it was the ‘off’ one of the two. Then her heart began pounding as she watched him press the other buttons and her coffin slowly slid along the track. Bumping over the ledge and she began crying as it went out of sight. The rumbling finally ceased and then the camera vibrated as it was removed from the shelf. Karl bringing it down and pointing it along the track and she could see her casket again in the dim orange light inside. Miss Wilson watched as the coffin moved sideways now, sliding out of sight and she felt it jerk and clunk after it had stopped. The camera came inside and scanned to the left. Rebecca seeing two small chocks had appeared and now held it into position. Her view changed as he retreated out onto the track and began loading more caskets from the other furnace until her’s was full up. So not only was she helplessly locked inside a casket, deep inside a furnace, more blocked any way out. Now she watched as Karl slowly forced the heavy door shut. Easing the three massive bolts across and Rebecca began to groan at the enormity of what was to come. Just after the subsequent movie from his laptop finished Karl switched off the main lights and went out the door, leaving his very pretty girlfriend there while he went off to guard the place.

Bondage Burial

Tue, 14 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

What a Beach

Tue, 14 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Dave rolled over in bed, blinking uncertainly. It was dark in the room, and he looked about in confusion. Then he heard a sound again, and he realized it must have been what woke him. He couldn’t immediately figure out what the sound was, and glanced over at his clock. It was just past 3:30 in the morning. He started kicking off the sheets to use the bathroom as long as he was awake, when he heard the sound again. Alert enough to pinpoint the location, he climbed out of bed and moved to the window. It had sounded like something had just bounced off…

What a Beach

Tue, 14 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

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.

Acquisition

Sat, 30 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I was a couple of miles upstream and another couple inland. There are several overgrown dirt tracks back here in the woods. When they put the highway through about thirty years ago it cut off access, which is fine by me - miles from anywhere and the whole place to myself. Perfect for my morning nature walk. I got skunked again, didn’t see much to shoot, but I took a few shots anyway. Two days ago I came upon a fox. Critter just sat there like a house dog watching me watch him. I walked slowly toward him, firing away. Unfortunately I had my little pocket rocket of a camera, which means it was slow to focus and slower to save the shots, but I got a few keepers.

Acquisition

Sat, 30 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Buried Time and Again

Sat, 30 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Beep Beep Beep

As my eyes adjusted I realized that it was my alarm clock going off. ‘Ugh 7:30am again’, I thought? But this day seemed strangely familiar, I just couldn’t place my finger on it?

Brad was already up and out of bed, again strange I thought, Brad never gets up early on his day off? I heard hammering down stairs, most likely in his work shop. I’ll go down and make him a nice breakfast.

Buried Time and Again

Sat, 30 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Beep Beep Beep

As my eyes adjusted I realized that it was my alarm clock going off. ‘Ugh 7:30am again’, I thought? But this day seemed strangely familiar, I just couldn’t place my finger on it?

True Burial

Sat, 30 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

A true story from Nakeddreamer. ( I am a male.)

I had always been interested in bondage and selfbondage. Then one day I was looking at Gromet’s site and read a story about someone being buried. This really got my juices flowing.

After seeing this story, it was all I could think about day after day. It was driving me crazy, so I decided that I would have to experience this for myself.

True Burial

Sat, 30 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

A true story from Nakeddreamer. ( I am a male.)

I had always been interested in bondage and selfbondage. Then one day I was looking at Gromet’s site and read a story about someone being buried. This really got my juices flowing.

After seeing this story, it was all I could think about day after day. It was driving me crazy, so I decided that I would have to experience this for myself.

Borrowed Time

Sat, 09 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

The child was sitting, alone, digging in the sand with a spoon. She was young, maybe three years old. Asilla glanced around. There were other people in the park, but none nearby. She walked over to the girl.

“Hi.”

The girl looked up at her with big, brown eyes. Asilla squatted.

“My name is Silla. What’s yours?”

The child didn’t respond, only stared.

Asilla took another look around, held up her hand before the child’s face, and made the sign. The girl began to cry.

Borrowed Time

Sat, 09 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

“Hi.”

The girl looked up at her with big, brown eyes. Asilla squatted.

“My name is Silla. What’s yours?”

The child didn’t respond, only stared.

Asilla took another look around, held up her hand before the child’s face, and made the sign. The girl began to cry.

Can I Bury You?

Wed, 23 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

“Can I bury you?” Asked Jim.

“Bury me? Why? Shouldn’t I be dead first?” Mary shot back, looking a little confused.

He laughed. “No, not all the way, just up to your neck, it could be a lot of fun.” She looked at him like he was crazy.

She then replied. “Do you mean like in that movie the other night, like in ‘CreepShow’? Because it didn’t look like they were having a whole lot of fun in the movie”

Can I Bury You?

Wed, 23 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

“Can I bury you?” Asked Jim.

“Bury me? Why? Shouldn’t I be dead first?” Mary shot back, looking a little confused.

He laughed. “No, not all the way, just up to your neck, it could be a lot of fun.” She looked at him like he was crazy.

She then replied. “Do you mean like in that movie the other night, like in ‘CreepShow’? Because it didn’t look like they were having a whole lot of fun in the movie”

Finding a Niche

Wed, 23 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Laura was squeezed into the niche. There was a gap of two feet above her and her feet were pressed up against the opposite wall which was three feet away from her. Even if she hadn’t been bound she would have found it difficult to move. As well as the tape pressed to her mouth there was also tape wrapped round her midriff, knees, ankles and which also bound her hands behind her back.

Finding a Niche

Wed, 23 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Formula 54

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Based on an idea by Hypercat *** The clock was ticking. Even now, well after midnight, when nobody was around, the chief was anxious. Secret midnight rendezvous at abandoned prisons could have great repercussions if they were caught. “Where are they?” “On their way,” his assistant said. “Good. Doc?” The prison doctor opened his stainless steel case and pulled out a syringe, depressing the plunger ever so slightly. A small squirt of green liquid squirted onto the floor. “The formula is ready.” “Good.” “Relax chief. If this goes according to plan, we’ll all be very rich. Nobody’s going to be coming around here. After all, you have the keys to this place, right?” “I do doc. But if this gets out, we’re all going to be in a mess of trouble.” There was a distant clang as a giant pair of gates opened, followed by footsteps. But the chief wasn’t nervous. This was expected. The door to the underground cells was opened, one of his deputies entering. “Sir, they’re here.” “Bring ’em in.” Two push carts were wheeled into the room. A squirming form was strapped to each one. The chief eyed the two women, oogling their forms, Sealed head to toe in thick, body hugging latex sheathes, they were squirming for all they were worth, fighting against their bonds. Seeing them strapped down so helplessly, he found his desire and arousal rising. He would have loved to take them and have his way, but knew that this was not the time. This meeting was strictly business, not pleasure. He walked over, inspecting them more closely, rubbing his hands over their coated bodies. Imprisoned beneath an inch of latex, they squirmed under his touch with delightful intensity, trying to get away. The belts securing them to the hand trucks ensured they weren’t going anywhere. “Looks like everything’s in order,” he said. “I gotta tell ya doc, this stuff is amazing.” He pinched the latex, tried to grab it, but the material remained firm and unyielding. “They’ve got anything on underneath this?” “No,” the doctor said, reviewing some charts. “They’re as naked as the day they were born.” The chief smiled. “All right, let’s get this underway,” he stepped aside. “Doc?” The doctor walked over, the syringe in hand. “Tell me again, what does this stuff do?” the other guard asked. “This is an experimental serum our good chief recovered in a drug raid,” the doctor said. “Code named Formula 54. Essentially a libido drug, it is supposed to skyrocket the sex drive, so much so that a human will want to have sex with anyone or anything around them. These two will be our first test subjects.” “Why the secrecy?” “If we can perfect and sell it, we’d have so much money we’d be set for five lifetimes. Can you even imagine how much money the public would pay to get a drug that sends your sex drive through the roof?” The guard thought. “A pretty penny.” “Indeed.” The guard looked at how much they were squirming. “Looks to me like they had second thoughts doc.” “They only volunteered for the drug. I didn’t tell them about the latex,” the doctor said with a smile. “I wanted to test out my latest, unbreakable latex material. So far, that test has been working splendidly.” “Who are they, anyway?” “Antoinette and Bonnie, a pair of lovely interns. I’m sure that once they experience the joy of this drug, they’ll be more than happy to volunteer for any other experiments I may conceive.” Walking up to the first woman, the doctor pushed the needle into a small piece of exposed flesh and injected the liquid. Pulling the syringe out, he squirted some of the latex on, which then covered up the skin and merged seamlessly with the rest of the sheath. Going over to the second woman, he repeated the procedure. “So what now?” The doctor put the empty syringe into a sealed bag. “We wait. It will only be a few minutes.” The women went still, no longer attempting to escape. In fact, it seemed as if they were asleep, as they were perfectly still, the only sign of life coming from the slow rise and fall of their chests. Then the first one began to struggle, fighting against her straps. The second woman followed a few seconds later, and soon both were thrashing against their bindings, their muffled moaning and groaning audible even through the latex. “Fascinating,” the doctor said. “It’s working faster then I expected.” The women were screaming now, fighting against their belts as hard as they could manage, bucking and kicking, squirming as if in a mad frenzy. “How long is this going to last doc?” The chief asked. “I’m not sure. Could be a few minutes, or it could be a few hours.” The women were thrusting themselves into the straps, knocking the carts over. But after landing on the ground, they thrashed on the ground, pressing their groins into the cement, trying to stimulate themselves. “Fascinating!” the doctor said. “The dosage apparently is twice as potent as I imagined!” The chief walked over and undid the straps on the hand trucks, lifting one of the women to her feet. He could feel her struggling within her cocoon, fighting to turn and press herself onto him, to achieve physical union. Simply feeling her latex pressing itself up against him was intoxicating. “You said these ladies would try to have sex with anyone or anything?” “Yes.” “Then let’s see how they react to each other.” The second woman was unstrapped, and the two were pressed together. For a moment they went still, as if surprised to actually be touching each other. Then they began to writhe and struggle, pressing against each other, thrusting their groins, even though it was impossible to have their vaginas touch. That small fact however, wasn’t enough to stop them from trying. “Oh my,” the doctor said. “Two heterosexual women fighting to have sex with each other, I think this experiment was a resounding success.” As the doc scribbled down some notes, the chief’s radio crackled. “Yes?” “Chief, we got trouble!” A voice on the other end said. “The mayor thinks you’re up to something and he’s sending in a squad to check it out!” “Shit. Doc, get your stuff out of here! Now!” “Already on it.” His suitcase was latched shut. “I shall join you all later, after I’ve analyzed my data.” As he ran out, the guard looked at the two women. “What do we do with them? It’s going to take too long to get them out to the truck.” The chief looked around, spotted a small hole in the ground. “Here, the obuliete.” “The what?” “It’s a small coffin sized cell built for one person. Nobody will look for them there.” “But how are we going to fit both in?” The chief held up several straps and belts. “Tie them up.” The two quickly went to work, wrapping the belts around the two women, buckling them together, until they were nothing more then a single wiggling unit fighting to get even the slightest stimulation, the belts effortlessly holding them together. The trap door was opened. With the cell’s tiny size, it was difficult to shove the two in, but the chief and his guard managed, shoving them in feet first, until they were tightly nestled inside, pressing their mouths together in a futile attempt to kiss. The lid was closed, sealing the two inside. A lock was put in place, ensuring that nobody would be getting inside any time soon. “All right, let’s get out of here. We tell the mayor that we were investigating an attempted break in, capishe?” “Right chief.” “Good man.” The chief looked down at the trap door. “Lucky gals, wish I had someone that horny trying to kiss me.” “If we get that drug perfected, we will.” The two smiled, leaving. They did run into the group sent by the mayor, but their cover story worked fine. The chief planned to come back and get the two women the next day, only to discover that the building had been given an overnight demolition job, where it would be bulldozed to the ground, the basement sealed up, never to be accessed again. He never did find out if the mayor had somehow found out about their scheme, but if he did, the mayor was going to ensure that the group would never meet in the building again. Deep inside their tiny tomb, Antoinette and Bonnie squirmed and struggled, restrained and encased inside their latex cocoons, arms and legs immobilized, their mouths sealed, their horny genitals touching, yet kept separate from each other. Unaware of their impending entombment, they didn’t care. In their drug induced stupor, they didn’t have a care in the world as they lived out the rest of their short lives in total bliss.

Formula 54

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Unlucky

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Whenever I think back to that day, I wonder how it could have been done differently. We could have gone a little faster, or perhaps stuck to going through the shadows instead, using the stealth course. So many different variables, so many possible outcomes. But inevitably, I get depressed and moody, thinking about what might have been. I can’t help it, though. I have lots of time to think. My name is ID682, though I was given the nickname, ‘Kitt’ by my fellow slaves, due to my love of cats. I used to be a slave, though I guess I still am. Only now I’m less then a slave. I’m a prisoner, serving a life sentence. Perhaps a little background is in order. I was born in a country where slavery was still legal, though by most standards, slaves are treated well. We’re given plenty of time to rest and pursue some minor activities while in service, and while we’re given lots of work to do, it isn’t strenuous. We aren’t whipped, or given any other form of barbaric and inhumane punishment. At least, not most of the time. You see, there are only a few crimes that automatically earn you the strictest punishment, and the greatest of all these crimes is assaulting your master, and his (or her) family. No other crime committed by a slave is punished so harshly. It happened about ten years ago, if I remember correctly (you must understand, I’m given no calendars, or indications of what date it is during my incarceration). Some of my fellow slaves had devised an escape plan to try and break free of the manor where we lived. Escape attempts by slaves were rare, though they do happen. Because I was one of the quieter slaves, who didn’t make a fuss or bring any attention to myself, they considered me trustworthy. Truth be told, their plan was excellent. Disable the building’s security system, then sneak out in the dead of night, head for the coast, and sail away from the country, to one where we could be free. I wanted to be free, and here was my chance. So I took it and joined with them. It was the perfect plan. But things went horribly wrong. The night of our escape, our master and her family went out into the huge garden that made up the backyard of the manor, seeking to have a late night party. We should have waited and tried again, but too much had been invested. We had to try. So we disabled the security system as planned, and cut the power, then made our way into the garden, heading for the fences. Things didn’t work out as we had planned. We were spotted. We panicked, and though I ran, my fellow slaves attacked our master and her family, trying to put her down. But it was too late, and master managed to summon her security forces. We were captured, our escape foiled. And as we were put in cuffs and locked in the dungeon, we all realized that, because of what we had done, we would never know freedom. We were right. The trial began the next day. We were brought into the meeting room, where our master, her family, her slaves, and everyone who lived in the manor attended. My fellow slaves and I, chained to the floor and gagged, were given no defense, no lawyers to argue our case. Everyone knew what had happened. Our master first told everyone the facts of the crime, and that we had attempted to escape. While that itself would get a harsh punishment, the fact that we had attacked her and her family was so serious that we had earned the harshest possible punishment for ourselves. In only a few minutes, our fates were decided. My fellow escapees, the ones who had planned the attack, were clearly beyond redemption or rehabilitation, for they had planned this for a long time, and had calculated everything before hand. Had they included attacking our master in their plans? I don’t think so, and think that it was only done out of panic. But it didn’t matter now. My fellow slaves, due to their actions, were sentenced to be buried alive, entombed forever to prevent any chance of escape as long as they lived. Upon hearing their fate, my fellow slaves broke down in tears, but, gagged as they were, could not protest. My fate however, was to be different. My master noted that I was the only one who had run, rather then attack her. Thus, I was innocent of the worst crime a slave could commit. But I had still attempted to escape, and I had aided those who had attacked her. Thus, I still had committed a crime, and needed to be punished. But due to my quiet nature, and lack of a disciplinary record, she would show me mercy. Thus, my punishment was given. I was given a life sentence in the dungeons, to be restrained for the rest of my life, and never to be freed. Like my fellow slaves, I cried upon hearing my fate, my tears streaming over the thick gag plugged into my mouth. There were to be no appeals, no second chances. Our sentences were final, and could not be revoked. With a bang of the gavel, our fates were sealed. And not one to waste time, master carried out our sentences immediately. We went out back, where other slaves dug three graves. Coffins were built, and my fellow slaves were forced into rubber body gloves. Restraint belts were wrapped around their waists, and one time use handcuffs locked their wrists to the belt, as one time use cuffs were locked around their ankles, forever restraining them. Their gags were left on as they were forced into the coffins and tied down, removing their ability to move. I watched their panicked faces as the lids were put on and nailed down. Due to their gags, I was spared from hearing their screams as the coffins were lowered into the earth, then covered with dirt and soil, burying them. Simple headstones were erected, though there was no date of death on them. We would never know how long they lasted within their graves. With their punishment underway, it was now time for mine. I was marched into the mansion and into the dungeons, where I was taken to a cell that had been prepared for me. And it was there that I saw how I was to be restrained for the rest of my life, for a thick leather sleepsack was waiting for me. Knowing that it was useless to resist, and that doing so would only bring further punishment, I did not resist as I was put into the sack, my arms and legs going into the internal sleeves. The back was zipped up, and then laced shut, squeezing the sack around my body, compressing and holding it. I was taken and put onto the bunk, where leather straps were applied to me, tying me down, so I wouldn’t roll off onto the floor. And with that, master looked at me, disappointed. I had such potential, she told me, but that it was too late to undo her decision. This sentence was final. She left, and closed the cell door behind her, locking it, and leaving me in my new home. *** I don’t know how long ago that was. Time goes slowly here, in this cell, and with no clocks or calendars, I can only guess how much time has passed since my punishment began. I spend my days here in the cell, locked into this sleepsack. I have never been let out since my punishment began, and wear it twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, but then again, perhaps that isn’t the most accurate statement. I am released for cleaning and hygienic reasons, but I am never awake for those moments, for I am sedated. I sleep, and when I awake, I am still in the dungeon, still in the sack, which has been cleaned, as well as me. I am gagged twenty four hours a day as well, with a giant muzzle permanently strapped to my face, a thick gag shoved into my mouth and into my throat, which is how I am fed, with tubes and liquid nourishment given to me, as well as water. A thick collar is wrapped about my neck, embroidered with the words, ‘LIFE,’ signifying my status as a prisoner. It sounds like a horrible way to live, but while my master may be strict, she is not cruel. She allows my fellow slaves to visit me in my cell, and though I cannot talk to them, they stay with me, and are allowed to stroke and cuddle with me, giving me companionship. Occasionally, my beloved cats are brought in, and spend the day with me, and I enjoy their company, even though I cannot hold them. To keep me occupied, Master has a piece of restraint added to me every day. Some days I will be blindfolded, and on others a hood is slipped over my head. Sometimes she shackles my ankles to the bed, and sometimes she dangles me from the ceiling. Every day is different, the variety keeping me occupied, if nothing else, trying to adjust to my situation. Sometimes, on rare occasions, a television will be brought to my cell, and I am allowed to watch a film or television show. I love those moments, as well when my fellow slaves come down with a book to read to me. But even with these small favors, this is still a punishment. I am locked in here for life, and will never, ever leave. I do not have the freedom of movement my fellow slaves have, and my entire body is locked away. Aside from cuddling, I am not allowed to have any pleasures of the flesh, except that, if I continue on good behavior, I will be allowed to have one orgasm every decade or so. A very good incentive indeed. There are days where I am calm and collected, and there are days when I cry and weep over what I have lost, knowing that my entire world is a standard size prison cell. There is a small window near the ceiling, where a little sunlight comes in from the outside. I can look out it, and see the sky, and the clouds, and know that this is all I will ever see of the outside world again. Sometimes, I wonder if this is all really an act of mercy. I am alive, but it is a life of restraint, of no freedoms. I will be kept this way until the day I die, for that is my sentence, and my punishment. My fellow slaves, the ones who were buried so long ago, they are gone. Sometimes I wonder if they were the lucky ones. Their punishment was horrible, but it was brief. Mine is stretched out, on and on, for decades to come. I can’t help but wonder if I’m the unlucky one.

The Trunk

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

SM Ackerman is the author of several bondage & DiD stories to be found on Amazon & Pink Flamingo, check them out online.

My name is Louisa and I have hated being called that since I was very little, so everyone calls me Lou. I am twenty-three years old, five-foot-nine, and at school I was called string-bean, the reason I am sure is obvious and I don’t intend to go into more detail than that. My sister who is four years younger than I am insisted that I write this story, so that the whole world would know what a bitch I was to her on that fateful day so many years ago.

X Marks The Spot

Fri, 16 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

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.

X Marks The Spot

Fri, 16 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

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.

Happy Halloween 2

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

continued from part one Happy Halloween – Part Two

Happy New Year!

After the New Year it was back to business as usual. Her boss finally gave up on the contractors renovating the old building, broke the lease, sued for a large chunk of money and found a new building closer to my house, but on the opposite side of town from her condo. She made the commute a few times, but generally she stayed at my place and our games and experimentation continued. Other then an occasional long weekend or a couple vacation days, there was no foreseeable way that an opportunity to stay mummified for nearly three months was going to present itself a second time. But the occasional bondage play during the week and the longer sessions on the weekend kept her appetite at bay.

The Landfill

Sat, 28 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Georgia was forced into the room. Her arms tightly pinned and bound behind her back, a harness ballgag firmly buckled filling her mouth and a leather blindfold secured over her eyes. She had no idea who had done this to her or even remember how. Susan tugged and yanked her into the middle of the room and positioned her next to a large oil drum. Once in place Susan bent down and immediately began to bind her ankles together roughly. Melissa stepped out of the shadows and stood, arms folded just a few feet in front of Georgia. “Ah, at last here she is” Melissa beamed. Georgia recognised her voice instantly. Unable to see, due to the blindfold she lifted her face in Melissa‘s direction. Finished with her ankles, Susan began to tie Georgia’s legs at the knee, the ropes pulled so tight they bit into her flesh. Georgia moans into her gag, obviously trying to talk. “I really have no interest in anything you have to say, hence the gag you dumb bitch, so just do us all a favour and don’t bother” Melissa barks. Susan, now finished binding Georgia’s legs tightly together, stands beside her holding her steady. “Now lets have a look at these fat trouble makers of yours” Melissa says as she quickly unbuttons Georgia’s light blue shirt, pulling it open to reveal her breasts. Georgia tries to squirm but Susan has a tight hold on her. Melissa pulls her breasts from her bra, gives them a painfully hard squeeze and looks at them for a moment. “Well, not that great… Just the sort of fat meat you’d expect on a rough slut like you” Melissa sneers cruelly. “But I think we can do something with them” She adds pulling out a length of black electrical tape that she deftly begins to tightly wind around the base of one of Georgia’s exposed breasts. Melissa relentlessly winds the tape tighter and tighter around the breast until it is cruelly tight and swollen, and then continues on the other breast until the same desired effect is attained. “There much better” Melissa grins as she roughly grabs at each breast, testing how immediately swollen and hard they have become. Georgia can only squirm and moan at her discomfort as her now painfully swollen and sensitive breasts are manhandled. “I’d be much happier with them now if I were you… But lets put them away” Melissa chuckles as she buttons Georgia’s shirt back up, leaving her tightly bound breasts uncomfortably straining against the material of her shirt. “Now lets put you away too” Melissa chirps, with that Melissa gives Susan a nod and they both quickly lift their captive off her feet and stand her in the oil drum. Georgia is quickly forced to slide down inside the oil drum as both Melissa and Susan push down on her shoulders and force her to sit in the bottom. “You can go for now Susan” Melissa says. Georgia’s confused Susan is one of her best friends and she’d never do something like this to her. “Just give me a shout when you’re ready for the next bit” Susan replies and leaves Melissa and her captive alone. Georgia’s shocked, she recognised her voice and that really was Susan. But why would she help Melissa do something like this. “Comfy” Melissa asks Georgia sarcastically peering into the oil drum. There’s not a lot of room inside and Georgia’s knees are uncomfortably pushed against her tortured breasts. Georgia can only squirm and groan. “You’re jammed in the bottom of an oil drum, but this is what happens next my darling” Melissa pauses for a moment. “I’m going to seal this drum up and lock it, don’t worry there are air holes in the lid for you, but what happens then will be entirely up to you.” Melissa whispers. “I’m going to give you the key to the lock and then you will have to choose… If you think you deserve to, all you need to do is simply unlock the drum and you can leave” Melissa whispered sweetly. Georgia was shocked and confused, how could she unlock the drum from inside! “But… If you think you’re a worthless fat titted slut like I do… Just stay in there and I’ll happily drop you off at the dump… I’ll put you deep in the landfill site where you’ll be buried under tons of garbage… Where you can die and rot like trash!” Melissa spat with obvious malice. Georgia was franticly trying to struggle and squirm, moaning and crying into her gag. But she was utterly helpless. She froze for a moment, she heard the clang as Melissa tossed the key into the oil drum with her. “I’ll give you five minutes to make you mind up… but we both know you’ll make the right choice” Melissa taunted Georgia. The lid was on the oil drum within a moment, and Georgia heard the slight metallic click of the padlock being snapped shut. Georgia was helpless, cruelly bound, harshly gagged, blindfolded and locked inside the oil drum. She frantically tried to scrabble around the bottom of the drum to find the key, but she could barely move, it was cramped inside and her hands were numb from the tight ropes. What good would the key do, the padlock the key was for was on the outside of the drum, and she and the key were inside. “Times up” Melissa called and banged on the top of the drum. Five minutes already. Georgia was terrified. Melissa wouldn’t really do this, she wouldn’t go through with it. “Good! I knew you’d make the right choice” Melissa taunted from outside. Georgia felt the oil drum shift, tilt and then move quickly. Melissa was moving the oil drum on a dolly. She felt every bump and bounce as she was quickly wheeled outside. “Come on Susan lets get this loaded” Melissa called out as she wheeled the oil drum towards the van. Melissa and Susan struggled and heaved to get the drum into the back of the van, but managed to handle it into an upright position in the back. Georgia was sobbing uncontrollably into her gag. Not a sound escaping the oil drum she was inescapably sealed in. “Right off to the dump with you then” Melissa called out and banged the van doors shut.

Samantha's Burial

Wed, 11 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000

“Shhh!”

“Why?” Samantha asked. “You said no one was here”

“No one is here,” said Tony, “But we still don’t want to make a lot of noise, OK?” Still, Samantha couldn’t completely stop giggling. There was something silly about breaking into a mortuary in the middle of the night, just to see what being in a coffin was like.

At last, Tony got the back door open. If the rest of the place was as creepy as this back basement door, Samantha thought, she might change her mind. They tiptoed down a narrow corridor that smelled of must and chemicals. Then they emerged into a larger room. Tony struck a match, and lit the gaslights.

Samantha's Burial

Wed, 11 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000

“Shhh!”

“Why?” Samantha asked. “You said no one was here”

Dirty Little Debbie

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

I unrolled the long, black hose, left it loosely coiled in the sun.

The rototiller made quick work of the plot and hand digging took less than an hour. It ended up kidney-shaped, the trough a thin scar cutting across the middle.

I made a couple of trips with the cart, unloaded the truck, and arranged the plants about the plot. The trough would be lined with bricks, but not just yet.

Dirty Little Debbie

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

I unrolled the long, black hose, left it loosely coiled in the sun.

The rototiller made quick work of the plot and hand digging took less than an hour. It ended up kidney-shaped, the trough a thin scar cutting across the middle.

I made a couple of trips with the cart, unloaded the truck, and arranged the plants about the plot. The trough would be lined with bricks, but not just yet.

Floored - The Consequences of Betrayal

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned… Or so they say. A woman betrayed will act completely out of character, full of venom, driven by impulse almost to the very point of murder even! And Kate of course is no different….

A seventeen year relationship is one that by definition must be incredibly strong and difficult to break, and when it does become broken a woman can act impulsively, and dangerously, just as Alan is about to find out.

Floored - The Consequences of Betrayal

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With sil-”

“Mrs. Smythe?”

Mary whirled.

“Oh! I’m sorry if I startled you.”

Mary smiled.

“No, no, dear, that’s all right.”

“I’m Edna Lambe from the university extension.”

“Yes, dear.”

“I was wondering if I could talk with you for a few minutes. You have a reputation for growing prize-winning produce and I was wondering if you would share your secret. All in the name of science you understand.”

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With sil-”

“Mrs. Smythe?”

Mary whirled.

“Oh! I’m sorry if I startled you.”

Mary smiled.

“No, no, dear, that’s all right.”

“I’m Edna Lambe from the university extension.”

“Yes, dear.”

The Wedding Makeover

Mon, 28 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

The wedding went as weddings do: Leela had a tantrum and dumped her basket of rose petals in the aisle, sat down and cried. At the reception a drunk Uncle Phil collided with a drunk Aunt May on the dance floor, setting off a mini firestorm until both had fresh drinks, kissed, and made up. Kind of creeped me out. The fact that they were siblings, I mean. And it was a serious, and I mean serious, kiss. Well, the jury was still out on that. And Uncle Earl, the official family photographer, ran out of film. Hey! Earl! One word: Digital!

The Wedding Makeover

Mon, 28 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

The South American Expedition 4

Thu, 17 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The South American Expedition 3)

Part Four

Phoenix endured weeks in her vertical hole with at least one person from the tribe with her at all times. She could only listen, and respond with grunts or eye motions the rare times she was awake, to the stories that the others told her, a kind of oral tradition of the long history of the tribe. She was fed through her mouth tube, and her body rebuilt itself with the special mixture of nutrients she was carefully fed. This was a special form of magic the elder village women had discovered by trial and error when they first learned of their condition brought on by the spider bite. By offering up their bodies for the ritualistic feast, they were rewarded with regrown ones that were in some cases better than the ones that were devoured by the village. The four elder women could even alter her body by varying the kind of nutrients she received at specific times.

The Pond

Wed, 09 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

I held the spoon up to Patti’s lips. She slurped, swallowed.

“Thank you, Master.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

She shook her head. “No, Master. You know how I zone out when you wrap me.”

“Mm. What do you remember?”

“I remember you wrapping me and standing me in the window-”

“Go back to the beginning. You know how I like you to tell me these things.”

“Yes, Master. May I have more chowder?”

The Pond

Wed, 09 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

I held the spoon up to Patti’s lips. She slurped, swallowed.

“Thank you, Master.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

She shook her head. “No, Master. You know how I zone out when you wrap me.”

“Mm. What do you remember?”

“I remember you wrapping me and standing me in the window-”

“Go back to the beginning. You know how I like you to tell me these things.”

“Yes, Master. May I have more chowder?”

Bagged Toy

Sun, 23 Oct 2011 00:00:00 +0000

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.”

Charles' Funeral

Thu, 22 Sep 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Charles Prendergast was happy with the way he had managed to swindle Terry Higgins out of three hundred thousand pounds. He had been so successful; he had remained anonymous and undetected for the past two years and hadn’t been found by Terry, even though a twenty thousand pound price tag was put out for anyone who found him. Terry was the local villain. He was known to be extremely dangerous. But he couldn’t report this theft as that is where he got it from in the first place.

Charles' Funeral

Thu, 22 Sep 2011 00:00:00 +0000

The End of Cynthia Harder

Fri, 26 Aug 2011 00:00:00 +0000

The half-naked woman sat on the iron cot, giving no indication that she knew he was standing on the other side of the barred door. She wore only a black lace plunge bra, opera hose and satin panties. Her elbows, in the long black kidskin gloves, were crossed casually on her stockinged knee. Her feet, in shiny black pumps with six inch heels, were spread lackadaisically on the straw-covered stone floor. Her blonde hair swung down over her heavily made-up face.

The Cliff and the Berry

Wed, 09 Mar 2011 00:00:00 +0000

It was a beautiful spring day; the type only seen once a year. The sun was shining it’s warmth onto the earth, and the sky was a bright, cheerful blue, with clouds slowly going through the sky, casting gentle shades upon the trees.

It was a beautiful day to be buried alive.

***

On the outskirts of a local city, there was a prison, dark and dreary in comparison to the beauty of nature. Dull grey concrete composed its foundation, housing within thousands who had been locked away from society, almost all of them political prisoners, who’s only crime had been to disagree with the government.

Bubbles

Tue, 18 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Until today, Tamika’s tit was the oddest project I’d approved. It was a collage of all sorts of tits called appropriately enough ‘The Breast.’ There were photos, tits made of paper mache, furry tits, it was both photographic and tactile - which brings me to the odd part. She wanted a live tit included. So she mounted a box in the wall with a hole in the top and for exhibit weekend she lay on a shelf behind the wall with her tit dangling. Did I mention the tactile part? So why was she surprised when she found herself being groped repeatedly? Ah, the things we do for art.

Bubbles

Tue, 18 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Laid To Rest

Wed, 05 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Finding someone to full fill a fantasy or fetish, if you may, was harder than I anticipated. I met many single women online, but it seemed every time I brought up wanting to be buried alive, it wasn’t long after that, she would want to end our relationship. Then I found myself going through the singles web ads online again. When on one such occasion I came across an ad that said, looking for someone to help pay my bills, will do anything for you in return. I liked the honesty in the ad, as to who she was looking for, so I replied to it.

Laid To Rest

Wed, 05 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Cindy's Mud Bath Weekend 2

Mon, 06 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Cindy’s Mud Bath Weekend)

Chapter Two

Cindy was in pretty good shape the next morning…. I had checked on her the night before but she was pleasantly sleeping, buried in mud up to her neck.

I stood there still looking at her at 8AM, and decied to hit her with all the vibrators at once. Her head rolled back and she struggled to open her eyes, still caked shut with my cum from yesterday.

Cindy's Mud Bath Weekend 2

Mon, 06 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part one

Chapter Two

Cindy was in pretty good shape the next morning…. I had checked on her the night before but she was pleasantly sleeping, buried in mud up to her neck.

I stood there still looking at her at 8AM, and decied to hit her with all the vibrators at once. Her head rolled back and she struggled to open her eyes, still caked shut with my cum from yesterday.

Cindy's Mud Bath Weekend

Mon, 22 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter One

My wife of 3 years, 26 year old Cindy and I had talked extensively about her wildest fantasy… that of being buried and unable to dig herself out. We agreed that this very summer, when the weather was warm, we’d pursue this, I just hadn’t devised the exact details yet, and Cindy was driving me crazy to do this.

We were driving home one night about 10PM when we passed an abandoned building project. We stopped to stare sadly at what could have been a nice little shopping center, when Cindy spotted something lying in the rubble.

Unexpected Disposal

Mon, 22 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000

She was walking on the beach when she saw a bluff in the distance, a long cliff that began as a sand dune and then sloped up into a big hillside, and then dropped away towards the ocean, forming a picturesque bluff, complete with sea grass over the top, and a sandy white face dropping to the beach. She had been walking for about two hours, and being new to the area, she wanted to explore some more. Still walking along the beach, she approached the bluff, and as she grew nearer, it began to reveal its true size, it was a little farther away than she first thought- but as she was on vacation hear, it made little difference to her. Ann would get into a mood for long walk-abouts, and just go exploring- Ann loved to find new places, and this was a great new place for her. Finally at the base of the bluff, the cliff rose up slowly from soft sand at the base, and grey clay and rock were exposed about thirty feet or so up the face; roughly exposing the earth to the elements. As she walked near the base, she noted a ramp-like feature to the base that seemed to be a travel path. Though it was a natural feature, it went along the wall of the bluff and went up a ways out of site.

Unexpected Disposal

Mon, 22 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Reality Television Star

Sun, 26 Sep 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Amanda Night left the party like she had left almost every party since she had turned 13, completely drunk and wasted. She refused the offer of a ride home, telling anyone that would listen to her slurred words that she could drive better drunk than any of them could sober. No one believed her, as it was a well known fact that she was facing serious jail time for multiple drunk driving infractions, including an injury accident that promised at least a year in jail.

Coal Faced

Sat, 07 Aug 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Authors note: This is a very dangerous and stupid thing to do in real life, please be careful what your fantasy life leads you to, in reality. Remember safety first, so be careful always and enjoy. S M Ackerman.

Coal Faced.

I suppose there must be the obligatory who am I bit!

I am tall, slim, blond, gorgeous, sexy, attractive, irresistible and female!!!

No I’m only kidding! I am female, and I suppose reasonably attractive, being slightly built, but with little but cute chest. I have nice long wavy hair and longish legs. I hope that will do, so to my story.

Bound n Bagged

Sat, 10 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000

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.

The Premature Burial

Wed, 30 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

A thump, like something soft but heavy hitting wood woke her up. It was followed by another and another, in quick succession. Groggily, she considered turning over to get more comfortable; she was lying on her back, and usually she didn’t sleep on her back. The thumping kept coming; it seemed very close, but she was sure now that it was receding, and she dozed. She was irritated at being woken, and her position wasn’t the most comfortable, but right now she just wanted to go back to sleep. The thumps were getting quieter and more muffled now, ans she realised that her irritation was not helping her doze off again. Slowly, her head began to clear. She opened her eyes but no light entered them. She lifted her head, trying to get her bearings. Her forehead bumped into something hard immediately after leaving the pillow. Her hands, which had been clasped together just below her breasts, flew upward to investigate, meeting a solid panel, mere inches above her body. Frantically, she explored her surroundings with her hands. Above her was a solid ceiling, timber from the sound of it, and it didn’t sound hollow beyond. Cloth enclosed her to the left and right, padding underneath her, but again what sounded like timber and solidity beyond. Suddenly realisation took hold. She was in a coffin. And the thumps, now that she was able to process the sound properly, were those of dirt being shovelled on top of her. The sound was barely audible now, very soon there would be only silence. The silence of the grave. She panicked, desperately hitting the lid of the coffin with her hands, knees and feet. It was no use; there was insufficient room to get a good swing, and the sound of her fist-falls seemed to be deadened by the weight of the dirt above. Her desperate shouts seemed too to be swallowed up in the earth that had taken her. Several times she stopped to listen for the sound of a spade on the coffin lid, and each time she was disappointed. Trying to hit the sides and lid of the coffin hard enough to be heard was wearing her out, and her knuckles felt raw. She was growing hoarse from shouting as well; her chest was heavy; her ribs sore. She told herself to get a grip and stop panicking. She realised she would run out of air soon, and she needed to figure out what was going on. First she started to properly survey her surroundings. Feeling around, she learned little that she hadn’t already established; it was definitely shaped and upholstered like a coffin, narrow at the feet and head, wider at the chest, and quite small; there was very little spare room. Figures, she thought. No expense wasted. She struggled to remember anything that had led up to finding herself here. The last thing she could recall was being at her boyfriend’s house on Friday night, having a quiet glass of wine before dinner. At least the boy could cook. Oh my God, she thought, did I drive home drunk? What happened to me? She started to examine herself. Touching her head and face, nothing seemed to hurt. Her arms and legs, within the confines of the space she was in, all did what they were asked without protest. The only pain she could feel was that inflicted in the panic of the last few minutes. Surely, an accident capable of making her appear dead would have caused other injuries? Surveying her body brought another surprise. She was laced tightly into her favourite leather corset, the one that went low over her hips and high over her shoulders, covering her breasts. Well, that explained her shortness of breath; in her panic she hadn’t even noticed that her chest was so confined. Tight, high-waisted jeans that she had bought especially to go with a corset, covered her from her waist down, belted firmly around the thinnest part of her waist. Her hands could not reach past her tightly clad thighs in the confined space, but she could feel that her ankles were held down, by what she figured must be her highest heeled boots. Tapping the heels against the sides of the coffin confirmed this suspicion. Oh-kay, she thought. Surely her parents would not have dressed her like this for her own funeral? It would have been as the pretty, innocent thing they would like to imagine her as, not as the darker, kinkier character she actually was. Parents can be so self-deluding, she thought. Slowly the pieces started to fall into place. She remembered how she had locked herself into small closet many years ago, and how even though the door was far from airtight the air had got stuffy within a few minutes. She had panicked, and broken the latch to get out. She was sure that closet was bigger than the space she currently occupied. And if this really was her funeral, the lid would have been on the coffin for hours or even days. Yet, although slightly clammy, the air was cool, and once she’d calmed down and stopped fighting the corset, she was having no difficulty breathing. Suddenly, she recalled the conversation she had with Dave, her boyfriend of the last year. It had been over a month ago; it was late in the evening, and they had both been a little tipsy at the time, but not so drunk as to not take it seriously. They had been talking about their deepest, darkest fantasies and fears. Her fantasy, and fear, had been to be buried alive, to feel that there was no possibility of escape. She didn’t want to die; the death part wasn’t part of the scenario, but the possibility, or even inevitability of it was. Many times she had tried unsuccessfully to reconcile what she considered her morbid, self-destructive fantasies, with her strong will to live and real concern for the welfare of other people. Her obsession with danger had formed an itch that needed to be scratched; climbing trees, and later cliffs had provided partial relief; the danger was there, but she always felt she had the choice at each point to take that next step or not. What if she couldn’t get down? From a young age she had tied herself up, even suspending herself by the wrists, ankles or both. Always she loved it, and always she wanted more. But always, that sense of self preservation prevented her from achieving what she wanted, to really feel like she could not escape. A couple of times, her self-bondage had gone wrong, escape mechanisms had failed and she was left fighting for her life. Each time, that will to live had kicked in, and once she had control over her panic, she had been able to escape, finding a weak point in her bonds to break out of, or discovering the inner strength to stand the pain of pulling out of what she had previously assumed was an inescapable cuff. Those events had both thrilled her, and disappointed her. The disappointments were two-fold and contradictory; she could not genuinely feel the despair of a truly inescapable situation, and yet she was angry at herself for failing to properly ensure her own safety. Then she had met Dave. After several unsuccessful relationships, she had finally met someone who understood her needs. They had started with simple bondage during sex, and as they had become more comfortable playing together, she had convinced him to bind her more strictly and for longer periods. But still, she felt safe. Too safe. Now that sense of safety was returning. Of course this was Dave’s work. Who else would have done it? Or could have done it? She was in her own clothes, and Dave was the last person she’d seen. He must have put something in her drink. And yet, she had heard the earth being shovelled in on top of her; the sides and lid of the coffin sounded solid from the pressure of the surrounding dirt. There was no give in any direction, not that she could get much leverage. Yet there was air. She could feel a slight draft around her face, or was she imagining it? But it was clear the air was not getting stale, despite how long she had remained down here. Again she relaxed. An air supply meant that, barring accidents, she wasn’t going to die here, at least not from suffocation. This must be just another bondage scene. Now she started to examine the parameters of her incarceration. While she had air, there didn’t appear to be anything else. Obviously, the coffin was vented in some way, but the other elements of life support didn’t appear to be present. Food, water and waste collection would be required for an indefinite stay, and these didn’t appear to be present. That must mean that she would be released soon, before dehydration took its deadly toll. Or perhaps it meant that Dave was out of his depth, and she really was in danger. Maybe this was a drunken stunt. What if he didn’t know what he was doing? What if it wasn’t Dave at all? Again she panicked, yelling and thumping on the lid. She called on Dave to let her out, calling him all sorts of names. Only the silence replied. Soon the panic attack subsided, but she was still scared. And thrilled. Torn between these two visceral emotions, another stirred. She was getting aroused. She started stroking her body. Her breasts were enclosed by the heavy structure of the corset; she could squeeze them a little, but they were already well compressed. Her hands drifted own between her legs. Her fingers reached the waist of her jeans, but the belt was too tight to admit more than the tips. She started to undo the belt, only to discover that the buckle would not let go; feeling around, she felt a thick plastic loop, probably an electrical cable tie, alongside the buckle prong. Without tools, there was no way to open it. Pressing on her crotch, she found that there was more than just her jeans covering her most intimate parts; the denim itself was thick, but there was more, some kind of padding. Her rear was similarly covered. Realisation dawned; she was in some kind of diaper, held in place by the corset and jeans. Further investigation revealed what felt like the edge seams of a heavy, long-leg pantie-girdle beneath her jeans and corset, adding extra security to the diaper. Worse, there seemed to be something hard between the girdle and diaper, reducing any movement applied to the sensitive spots she most wanted to reach right now to a dull pressure around the whole area. She reached up to her waist again, this time seeking to unzip her fly and put her hand under her jeans; she wasn’t hopeful of any kind of success even if she could get in, and was not surprised to find another cable tie wrapped around the base of the button, firmly capturing both the corresponding button hole and the end of the zipper pull. Defeated, she tried again to reach her breasts. She was surprised to find that the zip that closed the corset at the front was secured with another tie through the pull and two small, freshly installed grommets at either side of the zip. The corset was scoop-necked, but sat high over her breasts; without a shirt, cleavage would be visible, but her sensitive nipples were far inside the enclosing leather. That cleavage was formed by pushing her breasts up as far as they would comfortably go; there was no real hope of lifting them further. Even if she couldn’t get a hand to her nipples, maybe she could massage the bare flesh of the tops of her breasts, currently protected by the fabric of the tight, long-sleeved turtle-necked top underneath the corset. Sliding her hand under the neck of the shirt, she discovered that the base of the neck had a thick line of some sort threaded through it, no doubt knotted somewhere under the corset. It wasn’t tight, but there wasn’t going to be enough room to reach in. The other way of getting past the corset was to undo the laces. She twisted her body, struggling to get an arm behind her in the confined space. There wasn’t quite enough room to rotate her shoulders to lie on her side, let along roll on her stomach, so she had to hold the twisted position and arch her back. She felt up and down the lacing for the knot, expecting to find it at the small of her back. Instead, the lacing continued uninterrupted down her spine and into her jeans. Through the denim, she could feel a small knot at the bottom of the corset, safely out of reach of any probing finger. From the size of the knot and the lack of other bumps, it seemed the loose ends of the laces had been cut short after being tied off. That route too was barred. Before removing her arm from the its uncomfortable position underneath her, she felt the laces. These felt different to what she remembered, thinner, but more slippery. They had been replaced, probably with some kind of nylon cord. She sliced at it wit her fingernails, but feeling no sign of abrasion on the taut fibres, brought her arm back out in front of her. Frustrated, she reached back down over he crotch and rubbed vigorously, trying to get some relief from the arousal she now felt. She so wanted to put her finger on her clitoris, circling it gently while squeezing and playing with her nipples. She wanted to slide her finger in and out of her love tunnel until her body convulsed in ecstasy. If only these activities were not denied from her by the sturdiness of her own clothes and the shield over her mound. Harder and harder she rubbed, trying to get enough vibration in her whole lower region to put herself over the edge. Her other hand alternated between wrestling with the leather covering her breasts, and banging on the lid of the coffin, shouting obscenities at whoever may or may not be listening. Now she just wanted to get out of the box, out of the ground, and out of these confounded clothes. And again, she was to be denied. Eventually, she tired and calmed down, and again took stock of her situation. Her stomach grumbled. The rat, she thought. The reason she couldn’t remember anything after that first glass of wine was that she must have been out cold soon after. Dave must have spiked her drink. And that meant she wouldn’t have eaten; in fact she hadn’t had much for lunch either. Since she’d had a bowel movement that day, it did mean she wasn’t going to need to go number twos any time soon. Number ones would be taken care of by the diaper, for a while at least. It also meant that she didn’t need to be released any time soon. Food and water were her remaining concerns. She was not wearing a watch, and couldn’t read one anyway in the pitch darkness. She tried to track the time; surely she had been here for nearly an hour now. She had no idea how long she was out, but figured that Dave must have worked reasonably quickly; surely he wouldn’t endanger her life by keeping her drugged for too long? He must have prepared this, the only things remaining being to get her changed, and put her in the hole, an hour tops. That meant it was maybe around nine or ten p.m. Friday, with the weekend ahead of her. He wouldn’t keep her in here for two whole days? Would he? She tried to relax, telling herself there was nothing more she could do, and she would just have to wait it out. Just try to sleep, make the time go faster. She was tired after all the exertion; if only she could turn over, get more comfortable. Not that she was too uncomfortable, as the bottom of the coffin was padded, but she was not used to sleeping on her back. Actually, she really wanted to curl up into a foetal position right now. She laid her hands by her sides, allowed her head to flop to one side, and tried to sleep. Sleep came, but it was fitful, and full of frightening dreams. Once, she was sure the lid was collapsing; she woke in a cold sweat, screaming. It was an hour before she could drift off again. Other times she tried to turn over, bumping her shoulders or head against the lid. She fought the unyielding casket, until she woke enough to get a grip on herself. And so the hours passed. She had no idea how long she had been there when she started to notice her mouth was dry. Cold sweats and frightened bouts of anger and fruitless yelling and thumping on the coffin lid had taken its toll. The air was moist, which had kept dehydration at bay for this long, but now she was losing that battle. She realised she would have to relax if she was to last until she was released. If she was released. The only indications that this was anything other than a true premature burial was the continuing supply of cool, moist air, and the clothes she was wearing; the latter had other possible explanations. It had been hours since she had heard the last distant thud of earth being shovelled into the hole, and maybe she had imagined that. She was only assuming that because they had discussed burial, and not even at great length, that this was a bondage scene and not something much more sinister. Dave might not even be involved. Nightmare scenarios again flooded her mind. Perhaps she had been kidnapped; her parents were well off, as were Dave’s; they might be good for a ransom. Worse, they might not be as well off as they appeared; they worked hard at businesses that looked prosperous, but could just as easily be on shaky financial ground. After all the recession had taken many formerly successful business people down. What if they couldn’t pay? Perhaps Dave was lying right beside her, in his own nameless grave, the also victim of a kidnapping, or worse? Perhaps Dave wasn’t all he appeared? Maybe he was a psychopath, enjoying making his victims suffer before cutting off their air? She told herself to calm down, resisting the urge to again scream and bang on the lid. Worrying was useless; it didn’t matter what the true situation was, she just had to survive as long as possible. Eventually, she was able to drift off again into a restless sleep. A splash on her temple awoke her abruptly. Confused, she lifted her hand to her face, feeling the remains of the drop below her ear, and licking the dampness off her finger. As she did so, another drip hit her squarely on the bridge of her nose, splashing her eyes and cheeks. She put her hand to the lid of the coffin above her face; it was damp. More drips came, again splashing on her face, before she realised that she needed water, and opened her mouth to catch them. Soon the drips had become a weak but steady stream. The water seemed sweet to her parched mouth, and she swallowed the water hungrily. Maybe she was being watered deliberately. That was the obvious thought as it continued to stream into her mouth. She put her hand up to the lid above her experimentally, sensing what she thought was a crack, or a hole where the water was coming through. She didn’t know if it had been there before; she hadn’t been looking for such detail when she first explored her surroundings. Again, the alternatives filled her mind, building on their earlier constructions. What if it had started raining; waterlogged earth could collapse the lid of the coffin, blocking her air supply and crushing the life out of her. The water was showing no signs of abating; she felt she had to get as much of it as she could, just in case it stopped. What if it didn’t stop, and the coffin started to fill? As she thought this, the flow started to dribble. She was still a little thirsty, and she desperately reached up to the source of the flow to lick away at the last drops. She had been expecting disaster from drowning, and now the water had stopped before she was satisfied. It meant a longer lease of life, but how much? Would there be water again? And would it stop? Now she knew death from dehydration was several days away. And she wondered if the sweetness was just due to the how welcome the water was in her parched mouth, or if there was something in it. But that brought another fear. She had heard of hunger strikers going for over a month without food. She had to hold onto the belief that this was just Dave giving her what she asked for, but a supply of water as well as air meant that he could keep her here for weeks. They had discussed a fantasy, not a scene, and they had not set any limits. Again she had to work hard to calm herself. Boy, was he a dead man when she got out of this hole! And damn it, how could he give her a scene this long where she could not get herself off? It was inhuman! Her arousal and frustration were building again. She reflected that the fact this just made her hornier. If she had got off the first time she reached down there, so many hours ago, she probably wouldn’t even be thinking about it now. Hours? How many? How she wished she had some way of tracking time. Sleep, when she could get any, was good for passing the time; there wasn’t much else to do except think of ways things could get worse, or to rub fruitlessly at the clothing covering her sensitive parts. She she had no idea how long she had been asleep, and therefore no idea how long she had been in the coffin. In fact, she didn’t even have a handle on how long she had been awake. As the hours, or days, ticked past, she could measure time only by water; she had no real idea how often the water came. She was thirsty all the time, and the brief drinks of water she was getting were enough to get her back to the state she was after the previous one, but she was always thirsty. And increasingly hungry. It left her feeling utterly more powerless; she was totally dependant on outside agencies for her very survival, and she couldn’t even be sure who or what those agencies were. The water might still be from passing rain showers; logic said they were too regular for that, but logic also said that in the monotonous stillness of the coffin, she had no real indication of what “regular” was. And still she was being made to suffer. The constant thirst was one thing, her hunger another. Keeping the same position hour after hour in the small space was taking its toll as well; her buttocks were starting to hurt, and the rigidity of the corset, and especially the impressions formed by the rear boning and lacing, were making their presence felt. She was starting to feel dirty. She had urinated into the diaper several times, holding onto it as long as she could before letting go. It felt clammy around her; she imagined the urine pooling under her; probably most of the feelings of dirtiness were in her mind, but it didn’t feel good. The creases in her body felt like they were filling with gunk, and she craved a hot bath. Her feet had been sweating since not long after she first woke up; the stiff, lace-up boots were patent leather, not known for being breathable. Or its flexibility; she struggled against the firm leather to rotate her ankles and keep her calves from cramping up. She worried that her sanity was also going to suffer. Of course prisoners kept in solitary confinement don’t go crazy immediately, she told herself. But still, in the absence of any real stimulation, she worried. She was now sure that the water was artificially sweetened; this meant that she was getting energy as well as liquid. It also meant that possibly, hunger wouldn’t be the limiting factor on how long she stayed here after all. She shuddered at the thought. Malnutrition would get her in the end, but that could be months away, especially if there was more than just sugar in the water. She would be a gibbering, emaciated wreck by then. Infections were a likely cause of an earlier, lingering and painful death, if she didn’t lose the will to live sooner. And yet, amid all this morbidity, she was as horny as Hell. It kept her awake when she craved oblivion. Damn it, if she could just get enough movement into that shield! The sensory deprivation was getting to her too; there was nothing to see, and all she could hear was the sounds made by her own body. Her breathing and heartbeat, normally so quiet and easily ignored, seemed to fill her small cavity in the earth. The only identifiable smell was her own sweat, and she was soon used to that. Her only option was to squirm around; rubbing life back into the pressure points of her buttocks and shoulders, difficult to manage in the small space. If only she could just roll over! The pressure points from all the tight clothing was starting to get a bit raw too, and there was little she could do about that. She felt she was getting more sensitive; she pulled her sleeves up and stroked her forearms. Damn, that tickled! But maybe she could stimulate parts of her body other than the obvious ones, maybe she could even manage an orgasm. Please! She played with her earlobes, pretending it was the hand of a lover; the nape of her neck also afforded a certain sensuality. Closer to convention, she tried rubbing her inner thighs through her jeans and the girdle beneath them; that afforded a small but unsatisfactory reaction. She couldn’t help but to put her hand back on her crotch, and shake the unyielding shield violently again. With her other hand stroking her neck and earlobes, she was getting more stimulated, but that all important release still seemed so far away. Now she fought the coffin as well. She pulled her knees up so that they banged on the side of the coffin, while her heels connected with the other side. He shoulder contacted the lid. She kicked both sides of the coffin, tearing the fabric with her heel. Harder she rubbed herself; as she felt she was making headway. Just as she was feeling as if there might possibly be a chance of success this time, water splashed onto her neck from above. Damn it! Not now! Still, she had to stop and drink, lapping the water from the lid of the coffin. This time the water did not leave her unsatisfied. She kept drinking, until she could feel that she was no longer thirsty. As she lapped at the point where the water was coming through, a drop hit her squarely between they eyes. The flow diminished from the previous point, but kept dripping, but now it was dripping from other points above her face and around the head area of the coffin. This was different and it worried her. What if it didn’t stop? Worse, there didn’t seem to be anywhere she could go to avoid at least some of the drips. Had something broken? Or was her assumption that the water supply was artificial been wrong all along? Why change now? She shuddered; the violence of the last few minutes might have broken something. Perhaps she had weakened the lid; might it collapse on her at any moment? The dripping was unpleasant, unavoidable, and utterly frightening. She resolved to stop banging or pressuring the coffin’s sides and lid, lest she upset anything else that was keeping her alive, and try to relax. That was difficult with the water dripping on her, and the pillow and mattress under her head and shoulders was getting quite damp. It seemed to be slowing though, and she thought that now she had relaxed, the problem had sorted itself out. Now the drips were just occasional, sometimes up to a minute apart, but seemingly random.; she was reminded of the so-called Chinese water torture; there was no way she would be able to sleep like this. She was getting more agitated by the moment, frightened at the change, angry at the drips for being just so persistent, and angry at herself for possibly damaging whatever arrangement was keeping her alive. The longer she tried to control herself, the harder it was. Again, she tried to distract herself by playing with herself, trying to get a sensation stronger than the that of cold water on her head and face. It was no use; after nearly an hour of struggling to control herself, she lashed out again at the wooden enclosure, getting a grip on herself a few moments later, before breaking down in tears instead. She just wanted this to stop. She wished she had never mentioned her fantasy to Dave, wished she had never met him, wished she had never tied herself up. She would do anything to live a normal, kink-free life, if she could just get out of this infernal box. As her tears dried, she noticed that she hadn’t been dripped on for a while; the lid was still damp, but no new drops appeared to be forming. She also noticed that it was getting noticeably warmer. Now what, she thought, had her latest outburst damaged the air supply? As time passed, the temperature rose; now she was sweating, and starting to breath heavily. The air was definitely stale too. The air supply that had sustained her for so long was no more, and now she knew this was the the beginning of the end. She was fighting the corset for every breath now, her chest was heavy, her ribs sore. It was just a matter of time before she passed out. And yet, her arousal was making its presence known again. She had heard of auto-erotic asphyxiation, and maybe this was her last chance for that release that had been denied her for so long. She reached to her privates and breasts again, rubbing and squeezing for all she was worth. Her chest was screaming, breathing faster and faster, trying to get far more air than the corset would ever allow. She couldn’t tell if the roaring in her head was from her own building sensations, from lack of oxygen or the endorphins from the pain of suffocation; probably all three. Still she rubbed herself for all she was worth; probably the act was doing more than the actual sensation induced, but it was all she had. Then suddenly, it arrived. The orgasm crashed over her, seemingly for several minutes. She had done it, she could stop breathing now, as if she had any energy left to do so. Her head lolled to one side as she waited for death to claim her. Her head snapped forward again moments later, as suddenly her still, silent world was filled with noise and violence. Her last thought was that the coffin must have finally caved in and it was finally over; she felt only relief as her consciousness departed. She awoke in a bed. Soft pillows, proper bedding, a night dress. Light, curtains pulled, but definitely daylight. Her body hurt, but it was a good hurt, one of old pain diminishing, not of serious injury. Dave was there. He put his hand on her head to re-assure her. It felt comfortable, for now. “You’re OK,” he said, “Just relax.” She pulled herself up. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Buster,” she said, trying to be angry but not quite getting the venom into her voice. “And I will, later. Now you’re awake, I’ll get you some breakfast.” “What time is it?” she asked as he turned for the door. “Tuesday.” “Thanks.” It was all she needed right now. She would miss days of work, but didn’t care. She would worry about that later. It was a serious breakfast. She hadn’t eaten for over three days, and she wolfed it down hungrily. Dave refused to serve her more, telling her that she would get a good lunch, but right now she needed to digest what she had just eaten. “So,” he asked, “did you enjoy your little fantasy?” She wanted to kill him right now. Painfully. Messily. But the answer that passed her lips surprised her. “Yes,” she said quietly. “But promise you’ll never pull something like that again. I could have died.” He promised. But then he invited her to see exactly what her situation had been. In the middle of the garage stood a large but low metal skip, filled with earth. The skip had an angled end to allow its contents to be tipped out, and this end faced the garage door. Just beyond that lay the coffin, attached to a kind of sled, still connected via a steel cable to Dave’s four-wheel drive in the driveway where it had been dragged from the skip. The lid lay to one side. The garage was at the back of the house, and hard to see from the neighbours, so Dave hadn’t needed to clear away the mess after getting her out. Dave pointed out the various attachments to monitor the temperature, oxygen and moisture content inside the coffin, and to ventilate and control gas mixture. A gas cylinder lay alongside the bench with the computer and monitoring equipment. “I’m proud of that,” he said. “I never cut off your air at the end; I just increased the carbon dioxide level to around ten percent and upped the moisture content and temperature. Did you know your suffocation reflexes are triggered by excess CO2, not a lack of oxygen?” She muttered that she did know that. She had to accept that it was clever, though, and she really had thought she was suffocating in there. Dave continued, “you see you weren’t really buried in a hole; we just heaped the dirt on top, and kept things very quiet. So we were sure we would be able to just pull you out quickly if anything went wrong. And there is an infra-red camera and microphones in the coffin, so we could see and hear you.” “What do you mean by ‘we’?” she asked, suspiciously. “Patrick.” A good friend of Dave’s, and a pharmacist. That explained the drugs. “He’s a bit kinky too. We were both here the whole time, in case something went wrong. If one of us needed to sleep, we slept in that camp bed there.” “OK, well done. But what about my job? Did you call me in sick or what?” “Better than that, I arranged a vacation for the week. And I asked your boss not to tell anyone, as it was to be a surprise. She’s a good sport, you know.” “But a week?” “Yes, are you up for more play? Or how does a holiday away sound?” “You complete and utter bastard,” she told him. “You scare me out of my wits, keep me locked up, frightened and hurting for three days, and then you expect me to come away with you as if I’m going to forgive you? You’re completely crazy. “But, yes, let’s go. Can I bring some toys?”

The Premature Burial

Wed, 30 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Jesse in Jeopardy

Mon, 10 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

It was very stormy as the boat crossed towards the Western Isles. On board Jesse Haig was looking forward to a month cycling and camping the length of the Scottish islands. A stunning young woman of twenty-two years old, almost Viking in appearance. Think of Hagar’s daughter and you’d get the idea. Thick wavy golden blonde hair, long legs and an athletic body to die for and she’d attracted her fair share of attention since she’d blossomed. Even today while booking her ticket the seller had almost drooled over her. Still a body like hers was a rare sight up here and he’d only been human after all.

Susan Dumps her Boyfriend

Mon, 03 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

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.

Susan Dumps her Boyfriend

Mon, 03 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Jesse in Jeopardy

Fri, 23 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

The Gold Pyramid

Thu, 08 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Vikki Rubbervixen is copyright her creator and used with permission. *** Vikki’s life came to an end while at work on a Monday. Mere minutes before she was going to die, she was scurrying into a small duct, dragging thick cables with her. “Vikki!” “Yes Diego?” “We’ll need to hurry this up. We got a full mile of these cables to thread through.” “On it,” Vikki called back, wiggling her way through the tight, coffin like enclosure of the duct. Her thick rubber body glove squeaked against the cables already laid down. With only seconds to live, Vikki squirmed onwards, wiping some of the sweat from her forehead, dreading how dirty her white fur was going to be at the end of the day. She was going to need a long, powerful shower with lots of hot water to wash out the gook and gunk. A few floors above her, one of Vikki’s co-workers, on his first day on the job, was busy maneuvering a heavy safe into its new office. Unfortunately, he was still unused to driving forklifts, and didn’t have the experience to safely move heavy items around. It was inevitable that when he came to an abrupt stop, the momentum sent the heavy safe teetering upon its platform, then off and onto the floor. Two tons of steel and iron tore through the floor, crashing into the room below, then crashing through that as well, its progress barely slowed as it continued on. Vikki heard the safe slamming down above her, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. Then the safe hit the duct and went clean through, and the time for thinking was over. There was nothing but darkness. But that inky void only lasted a moment before a light appeared. But none of the panicking workers or supervisors saw it, or were even aware of it. Only Vikki, floating in the air, saw it. For a few moments however, she was too shocked to look at it, focused instead upon the crushed duct, and the safe that had come to a stop two stories below, her crushed body trapped underneath it, cables still clenched tightly in her dead fist. Staring at her body, Vikki was only able to say one thing. “Oh shit.” The shock only lasted a moment though, for then she was suddenly pulled into the light, going through what seemed to be a very long tunnel of light. Curious, she let the pull take her in, watching as she reached the end. The light faded, giving way to what appeared to be a world made of clouds. Looking around, Vikki tried to figure out where she was. Was this real? A hallucination perhaps? A last, desperate move by her brain to conjure a fantasy to make her last moments of existence pleasant? Looking down at herself, Vikki poked her rubbered chest. It moved. She tried pinching herself. It hurt. If this was a hallucination meant to make her happy, including pain would make no sense. The only conclusion she could come to was that this was really happening. This place was no illusion. There was a large gate nearby. Coming closer, Vikki saw that it looked like the tall, pearly gates she saw so often in cartoons and children’s books about an afterlife. It was almost too comical, actually seeing them. Yet, they were more awe inspiring than any book could ever hope to convey, for they towered over her, engraved and embedded with all manner of pearls, gems, and beautiful stones. Yet, Vikki couldn’t help but notice that, from the way the gates were constructed, it seemed that they were built to hold people in, rather then keeping them out. But still, she was curious. Just what was beyond those gates? There was a small desk in front of the gates. A human woman was sitting at it, taking some notes, humming to herself. She didn’t seem to notice Vikki. What was curious is that rather then a white robe, as Vikki would have expected, the woman was wearing glasses, a black leather bodysuit, with a matching trench coat worn over it. “Hello?” Vikki asked curiously. The woman looked up. “Could you please tell me where I am?” “The gates of the afterlife,” the woman said. Vikki noticed that she had a nametag. It read, “Elizabeth”. “Hello Elizabeth… so I take it I died?” Elizabeth nodded. “That would be a good guess. Let me bring up your file.” She turned to a computer and brought up a long list of data, scrolled through it. “Vikki RS1-2050. Died from being accidentally crushed while at work.” Elizabeth looked at the data more closely. “Curious… this says you’re a GELF, a Genetically-Engineered Life Form.” “Yes, I am. Er, was. One of the first, actually.” “Fascinating… I have yet to meet anyone like you before.” Elizabeth thought for a moment, as if caught in a trance. “Intriguing… I must learn more. But come, let us go in.” With a press of a button, the gates swung open. A mist emerged, masking whatever was beyond it. Rising from her desk, Elizabeth walked over, motioning for Vikki to follow. “Come.” Vikki nodded and obediently followed her. Walking into the mist, Vikki was most immediately struck by how thick it was. Even through the rubber suit, she could feel it press against her as she moved through it. “Where are we going?” She asked. “Heaven?” “Not quite.” Elizabeth said. “What do you mean?” “You will see in a moment.” Sure enough, the mist began to clear. It was becoming lighter, as if a powerful light was shining through it. Shortly after, it finally cleared, giving view to a landscape beyond. Vikki had been expecting something divine, fantastic, and beautiful beyond mortal comprehension. Instead, what she saw looked more like a tropical resort. It was a large land, similar to Hawaii, complete with numerous palm trees, lots of flowing grass, and beaches. The sky was overcast, clouds drifting lazily through, rain occasionally falling to the ground below. “Heaven looks a lot like Hawaii.” She said. “I do not know. Like I said, this is not heaven.” “Then what is it?” Vikki asked, curious. “I will explain as we go,” Elizabeth said, starting down a path. “Come.” Vikki wanted to look over this strange land, but she followed. “So what is this place?” “It began over a thousand years ago, by your reckoning of time. I died, and was taken to the gates of Paradise… only to discover that I was not allowed inside.” Elizabeth went slightly pale at the memory. “In addition to my own sins, the powers in charge had grown tired of the human race, with all our evil ways, so they were closing Paradise to the human race forever. Everyone, from that day on, was to head straight to the Inferno, no matter how righteous or evil they had been.” “So what did you do?” “I begged with them, and eventually made an offer. If they didn’t want humanity, I would take them. Give me a realm of my own, I said, and I’ll take humanity. They thought about it, then decided to grant me my request. I was given a realm to call my own, to rule as I see fit. So with that, all humans were entrusted to me. But there was a catch.” “What was it?” “I would be in charge of both punishment and reward for those who arrived. And virtually everyone, no matter how good they are, requires punishment for what they had done in life, from murders to stealing, to telling lies and even hitting each other.” “Even as kids?” “Even as little babes.” Vikki pondered what she had heard. “Seems awfully strict.” “Those were the terms.” Elizabeth said. “Punish humanity for what they have done, then do whatever you want with them afterwards. So I decided to create this place.” They had reached the end of the trail, and were coming up to one of the many groves of trees. They were much like the ones Vikki had seen on Earth. But she was surprised they weren’t more vibrant. “Why aren’t these more colorful?” She asked. “The true beauty of this place is in Paradise,” Elizabeth said. “This island is not meant to be too beautiful. It is meant to be a place of inner reflection.” “Speaking of which, where is everybody?” “Only new arrivals are here… them, and those suffering a light punishment.” “Light?” “My realm is divided into three areas. The island where we are now is what you would call Purgatory. The second Island would be the Inferno. The third Island is Paradise.” “Why did you create this place like that?” “I lived during the era of the Spanish Inquisition,” Elizabeth said. “I modeled this place after my own understanding. Of Purgatory and Paradise, I had to improvise, but the Inferno was all too easy to create.” “What do you mean?” Elizabeth thought for a moment. “I will tell you later. But for now, I must arrange for the latest crossing to the Inferno. There, you will be judged, and receive the appropriate punishments.” “And what are some of those punishments?” Vikki asked nervously. “There are all manner of punishments in this place, too many for me to count, for the human mind can come up with all manner of devilish means. But you will find out some of them soon enough. But while I prepare the boat, you must be restrained, for every individual here wears, at a minimum, a set of arm and leg cuffs, so that they don’t escape.” Reaching into the pockets of her coat, Elizabeth pulled out a set of handcuffs, leg cuffs, and a leather restraint belt. Vikki looked at the restraints, but didn’t object as Elizabeth knelt and clasped the leg cuffs around her ankles, cinching them tightly around her rubber suit. Standing, she took the belt in hand. “Raise your arms.” Elizabeth’s tone was firm. Vikki did so, looking down as the belt was wrapped around her waist and buckled down tightly, the large metal “O” positioned in front for the handcuffs to go through. “Arms down.” Vikki lowered her arms, offering them to Elizabeth, who took her left wrist and locked a cuff around it. “You are surprisingly calm about this.” Elizabeth remarked. “Were you sexually deviant in life?” Vikki blushed, her ears flicking. “Maybe a little.” For the first time, Elizabeth gave a smile. “I think I’ll enjoy meeting your kind here. You seen more interested in getting locked up then everyone else.” Elizabeth moved to put the other cuff on, but Vikki raised her hand. “Actually, could I?” It took a moment for Elizabeth to figure out what Vikki was talking about. She nodded, letting go. Vikki took the cuff and threaded it through the ring, then clasped it around her other wrist, locking it in place. Now restrained, Vikki patiently waited for whatever Elizabeth would order her to do next. It was a conditioned behaviour that had served her well in life and from what she’d heard so far, still applicable. “The process will not take long,” she said. “Until then, you may explore this place as you will. I will return for you when the time is right.” With that, she walked off, leaving Vikki to herself. Turning, Vikki looked around, trying to decide where to go. She eventually decided to head for the beach, to see what lay along the way. Starting down a path, she took her time, for the leg cuffs were doing their job of restricting her leg movement. There was a pleasant breeze as Vikki walked, the dim sun gently warming her rubber suit. Even if this was Purgatory, she wouldn’t mind enjoying this type of weather for centuries. With all the trees and greenery, this was a pleasant place to be. All that was out of place were the rubber covered people dangling from the trees. Vikki stopped, surprised. She did a double take and saw that, indeed, there were people dangling from the trees, hanging from vines wrapped around their necks. All were encased inside thick rubber sleep sacks. One of them, the lowest, saw Vikki. “New here?” He asked. “Doesn’t that hurt?” Vikki asked, concerned. The man shrugged. “Not really. It becomes a little annoying every now and then, but you get used to it. You don’t need to breathe, after all, when you’re dead.” Vikki nodded. “But what are you doing here?” “Doing my time. I was sentenced to one hundred years as a birdfeeder.” He indicated the small plates strapped to the bag, which had birdfeed in them. “It’s not bad, all things considered. Could be a lot worse.” “How so?” The man chuckled. “You really are new here. There are some guys buried in the beach who’ll be watching the tides come in and go out for a thousand years.” Vikki cringed. “Why so long?” “What’s one thousand years in light of eternity?” Pondering the statement, Vikki peered up at the others swaying in the breeze, noticing something. “Why is everyone so young?” She asked. “You all look like you’re… ” “Thirty? Well, everyone turns thirty when they come here. Peak of health, or something like that. You won’t see any old people here.” A few birds flew over, landed on the plates and began to peck away at the food. “Oh, could I ask you a favor?” “Yes?” “A buddy of mine named Jerry is down at the graves. Could you go and say hi to him for me?” Vikki nodded. “Of course.” “The name’s Mike. Just tell him I said hi, and I haven’t forgotten that poker match we’re going to have.” Vikki nodded again. “I’ll let him know.” Mike smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it. And pardon me for asking, but what exactly are you? You’re obviously not human.” “I’m a GELF. Genetically Engineered Life Form.” “Hmm… must have come after my time. Well, see you around then.” Vikki nodded, “Nice meeting you, Mike.” “The graves are to your left.” Mike added as she started off down the path. “Oh, thanks.” Turning left, Vikki left the trees and the living birdfeeders behind. Continuing down the path, Vikki passed a few other people, all restrained like her. She got numerous looks, all curious. It was apparent that nobody had ever seen anything like her. “Of the hundreds of us made, could I possibly be the first to have ‘bought it’?” However, Vikki soon discovered a problem. There were numerous graveyards around this place, each one containing many graves, from which people were buried standing up, their heads sticking out of the ground. Finding one individual could take a long time. Choosing a spot at random, she walked up to those buried there. “Excuse me? I’m looking for someone named Jerry. Have you seen him?” One of the people looked up at her. “Three rows down to the left.” “Thanks.” Leaving, Vikki followed the directions and ended at a large mass grave, where dozens of people were buried together, their heads turned so that they were looking down a hill towards the ocean and the endless horizon beyond. “Is there a Jerry here?” She called out. “Over here,” A voice said. Looking to the direction of the voice, Vikki found it in the black form of a mummified head, with only the face exposed, the eyes and the rest of the face hidden from sight. “Are you Jerry?” Vikki asked. “The one and only.” It was a surprise to see someone mummified and mostly buried like this, making Vikki loose her focus for a second, wondering what it must be like to be in such a predicament. “Did you have something you wanted to ask?” Vikki shook her head. “Sorry. Mike says hi, and that he hasn’t forgotten that poker match the two of you are going to have.” Jerry smiled. “Glad to hear his sense of humor is still going.” “How long are you going to be here?” Vikki asked. “Another twenty five years.” Jerry said. “Halfway there.” “Doesn’t it get boring?” A pause. “Well, sometimes. But we get new arrivals every day, so there’s lots of people to talk to.” “Sometimes too much,” another mummified head said. A second, wrapped up to his nose, rolled his eyes in agreement. “So, when did you get here?” Jerry asked. “Just an hour ago.” “So you haven’t been tried yet?” “No.” “Hmm… well, I wish you the best of luck. If you’re really lucky, you’ll come back here and join us.” “Why is that?” “Well, those who have light punishments, or those who accept what they’ve done and don’t try to fight it, often come back here to Purgatory. Those who have medium to heavy sentences, or just plan nasty people in general, stay on the Inferno.” Jerry shuddered. “I’m so glad I didn’t stay there. It’s a really horrible place.” Vikki thought for a moment. “What are some of the things they try you for?” “How kind you were, how charitable you were, goodwill, all that sort of thing. If you’re mostly good, you come back here. If not, then it’s off to the dungeons you go, and you’re not seen again for hundreds, maybe even millions of years. If you’re the worst of the worst… then you’re never seen again.” “Wait… are you saying that some people never get free?” Jerry shook his head. “No… some souls are going to be in those dungeons for the rest of eternity.” “But what do they do in there?” “I don’t know… but apparently Elizabeth likes to get creative.” Vikki was silent as she pondered the fact. “Anyway, thanks for giving the message. I appreciate it.” “Oh, no problem.” “See you around then.” He chuckled at his own joke. Vikki nodded as she turned and slowly waded out of the graveyard, careful not to step on those watching the ocean. *** For the next hour, Vikki wandered about Purgatory’s beach. She saw a few other restrained people like herself, as well as some others in heavier layers of restraints, dangling from trees, lashed to tree trunks, or buried in the sand. The thought that there were some souls out there who would never see the sun, or feel the water, was mortifying. She didn’t have time to ponder further, for Elizabeth emerged from the trees and walked to her. “Everything is ready.” “Judgment?” Vikki asked nervously. “Yes.” “I looked around a bit,” Vikki said. “You’re a good designer.” “You’re just saying that to try and impress me so I won’t be so hard on you.” “No, it’s not that. Really.” Vikki said, her shackles clinking as she spread her hands in emphasis. “Don’t feel bad. Everyone tries that.” “I’m not trying to impress you,” Vikki said. “I just like the way this place looks. It’s actually comforting that it resembles the living world so well. Also, I must say, I was impressed with all those graves up on the hill. Their situation was… interesting. It was also considerate of you to let the people watch the ocean.” Elizabeth seemed surprised at the praise. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. But come, it is time to go. The Inferno awaits.” *** The trip across the ocean was quite fast. After going onto a huge sailing ship, Vikki joined her fellow prisoners in being bolted to the floor of the boat, watching as the island of Purgatory vanished from sight. “What if the boat sinks?” Vikki asked Elizabeth nervously, tugging at her chains. “It won’t.” Elizabeth assured her. “We have not had a single ship sink in all the time this place has existed, though I have consigned some souls to the ocean floor before.” Vikki went silent. They sailed onwards, the sky growing darker, the clouds thickening and blotting out the sun, creating the illusion of twilight. After what seemed like an hour after leaving Purgatory, they arrived at the second Island of the realm: the Inferno. It was a towering island of rock and sand, with a large volcano in the center, spewing ash and smoke into the sky. The only features on the hellish island was a huge, steel fortress, and numerous pyramids on the outskirts, some built and some in the process of rising from the ground. The boat came to a dock, where Vikki and the others were unlocked from the boat and led onto the shore. “Do not attempt to escape,” Elizabeth called out. “Attempting to do so will earn you an automatic sentence of five hundred years on the bottom of the ocean before being brought to judgment.” As they walked, Vikki looked around toward the pyramids, and more specifically, the ones being built. There appeared to be only one individual per pyramid, and that individual was dressed head to toe in black, shiny rubber, and locked up in cuffs. Sweat glistened over their outfits, making them sparkle under the merciless plume of heat and light radiating from the volcano. “Who are they?” She asked Elizabeth. “The worst of the worst. They are the souls that are totally corrupt, of which no amount of penance can save. They are to be locked away forever, and they build their own tombs before being sealed inside.” “How long does that take?” “A hundred years, without any breaks or moments of rest. The man you see has been working for fifty years. But in a way, you are lucky to see a rare event.” “What’s that?” “A pyramid has just been finished, and it’s occupants are about to be entombed.” Elizabeth looked towards the others. “Halt, and remain where you are. I will return momentarily.” The other souls stopped in place, nervously standing and waiting. “Come Vikki,” Elizabeth said. “Unless you wish to remain here.” Vikki’s curiosity and obedience were stronger than her call to conform. With barely a moment’s hesitation, she followed Elizabeth across the hot sands to a newly completed pyramid of stone. Two people encased head to toe in rubber were standing at its base, panting and wheezing from a hundred years of hard labor. “You both have done well,” Elizabeth said. “Now we must test to ensure that you did not build any escape tunnels inside.” Raising her hand, Elizabeth stared at the building, as if mentally scanning it. Once she was finished, she lowered her hand and regarded the pair once more. “Very well, it is structurally sound. You two know what must now be done.” Raising her hands, Elizabeth snapped them. Out of thin air, two pairs of armbinders appeared. The couple’s arms were quickly released from their cuffs, only to be yanked backwards as the binders applied themselves, quickly enclosing their arms and lacing them up tight. They were followed by heavy chastity belts, which promptly locked around the prisoner’s waists and groins, followed by pairs of very thick ankle cuffs, which replaced the weathered, rusted pairs the couple had been wearing. The last thing to go on each of them was a giant muzzle, which gripped their hoods tightly, latching themselves down. “It’s time for your burial,” Elizabeth said with a sinister grin. The two prisoners frantically struggled with renewed vigor, their whines, mews, and muffled yells silenced by the hoods and muzzles. “In you go,” Elizabeth said, raising her hands. “Unless you wish to bear the weight of more restraints.” Vikki watched, stunned, as the two prisoners reluctantly turned and started down a long corridor into the pyramid. Elizabeth followed, only to glance back at Vikki. “Are you coming?” Vikki reluctantly followed. They went deep into the heart of the pyramid, where a single room lay open and waiting. It was bare, built of solid concrete. There were no lights, no windows, nothing but the bare floor. The two prisoners were marched inside. A quick wave of her hand, and a thick ball and chain was added to the prisoner’s ankles. “Farewell.” Elizabeth said as the prisoners struggled in their restraints. “For the rest of eternity, you will have only yourselves for company.” With a single wave of her hand, she had the door - a giant, six foot thick block of granite, slide down, landing with a heavy thud. Vikki could hear the prisoners screaming from the other side. More and more blocks were placed in the passageway, sealing it even further. When Elizabeth and Vikki left the pyramid, one final block was put in place, and the structure was sealed forever. “Do not feel sorry for them,” Elizabeth said. “They were the genocidal dictators of a country in Africa, and brought untold suffering to millions of their own people. They were irredeemable. Their punishment is justice for all the pain they have inflicted.” Vikki only stared at the pyramid, stunned, yet strangely aroused as well. She could not help but feel pity for the people entombed inside… but the thought of wearing restraints for eternity was intoxicating. “We must continue onwards,” Elizabeth said. “Judgment awaits.” *** After rejoining the rest of the souls, the group continued on across the island, heading towards the fortress. The air grew warmer as they got closer to the fortress, yet Vikki wondered how this could be the building that judged all. If there were many people here, as Jerry had said, then how could this building hold them all? As they entered the building, Vikki was surprised to see that the only thing inside was a large, crude elevator, easily able to hold up to fifty people at once. Their group fit on easily enough, upon which Elizabeth flipped a switch. The platform went down, heading below the floor. Vikki’s puzzlement over the building’s size was answered in an instant. They had emerged into a cavernous chamber that stretched down for untold miles, the walls built from nothing but cages, coffins, tombs, and jail cells. From the ones she could see in, Vikki saw that each cage and cell contained an individual, some naked, some in chains, others in arm binders, some in straightjackets, and others wrapped head to toe as mummies. Every occupant appeared to watch as their platform descended deeper and deeper, its path lit only by torchlight. “Here lies the damned,” Elizabeth announced. “Most you see here will one day leave this place… but some never will.” Vikki looked towards a row of tombs and coffins, heard sobbing from inside each one. “Those who were previously in Hell were brought here, but every one of them shall remain locked up for all time, never to escape. Some of you will join them.” The platform came to a stop at a jutting walkway. Crosses lined the walkway, a soul crucified on each one in the many manners that Vikki had seen on the way down. And still, the chamber continued downwards, the bottom lost in infinite darkness. They went down the walkway, towards a large open room filled with individuals dangling from the ceiling, some upright, others upside down, all eyes watching the new arrivals. “Stand on the red square, and be judged,” Elizabeth said. At the end of the line, Vikki peered forward, wondering what horror they were to witness next. A soul at the front of the line nervously walked onto the square and stood, waiting. After a few moments, a scroll emerged from a slot in the wall. Elizabeth took it, and read from it. “Twenty five years in Purgatory.” She announced. The relieved soul walked over towards an open doorway, and headed through. Another soul walked forward and waited. Another scroll emerged. “One hundred years imprisonment in the inferno.” A chain shot down and latched a cuff around the soul’s neck, yanking her up into the darkness, her screams quickly vanishing. Another nervous soul walked forward, trembling. “Ten thousand years imprisonment in the inferno.” The chain returned and he was yanked upwards, vanishing from sight. And so it went, on and on, Vikki watching as each soul was given their fates. Most were going to go back to Purgatory, while a few would remain here for years, even centuries. Soon, there was only one soul left in front of Vikki, who was shaking violently as he stood on the square. A moment later, and his fate was pronounced. “Eternal imprisonment in the Inferno.” He tried to run, but a chain shot down, a manacle closed around his neck, and yanked the man into the ceiling, where he vanished from sight. Vikki was the only soul left. Elizabeth looked at her. “Come Vikki. Step on the square.” Vikki didn’t want to. Every instinct was telling her to run and get the hell away from this place. But she didn’t have a choice. She stepped on the square. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then her scroll appeared. Elizabeth took it, looked it over. Her face was blank, giving no clue as to what lay upon it. “Ten years in Purgatory.” She announced. She actually looked pleased with the announcement. Vikki breathed a sigh of relief, overjoyed at what her fate was to be. “Come,” Elizabeth said, indicating the door that would lead back to the surface. “It’s time to take you back. Because you seem to have a thing for rubber, as well as being a kink, I think I’ll seal you within a rubber doll and bury you in that graveyard. Does that sound good?” “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Vikki said with a nervous smile. “No, not really.” As they started towards the door, however, there was a bonechilling howl that echoed through the chamber as another parchment suddenly appeared. Elizabeth stopped, confused. “It’s never done that before.” “What?” Elizabeth walked up to the scroll, plucking it from its slot and rolling it apart to read. She was silent for several moments before shaking her head. “No… ” “What is it?” “It’s an override from the powers above. They’ve never intervened like this before.” Vikki felt her throat tighten. “What are they saying?” Elizabeth was quiet before she answered. “They’re saying that you’re not part of the original designs for the world… in their eyes, you’re an abomination that must be purged.” She went very quiet. “They’re ordering me to entomb you immediately… and that you will never be released.” Vikki’s gut tightened and she was suddenly unable to breathe. “What? But that… that’s not possible.” “I cannot defy the powers that be.” The color drained from Vikki’s face. “You mean… I’m going to be buried forever?” Elizabeth was silent. “No! This can’t be happening!” “I’m sorry Vikki. I really wish it didn’t have to be like this.” Vikki stared at her, panic building, threatening to overwhelm her. The chain descended, and Vikki felt the manacle closing around her throat. With a powerful yank, she was pulled up into the ceiling, and into darkness before she could even scream. *** When the darkness faded, and vision returned, Vikki saw a stone ceiling above her. She momentarily panicked, thinking that she had already been entombed. But after feeling movement on her body, she looked down and saw that she hadn’t. But she was well on her way. Vikki was lying on a stone table, the restraint belt and cuffs lying on the floor. Elizabeth was standing next to the table, working to wrap bandages around Vikki’s body. In a flash, Vikki realized what was going to happen to her. Like the ancient Egyptians of eras long past, she was going to be mummified and buried… only she was going to be alive when the lid of her sarcophagus was locked down. She instinctively started to struggle, but Elizabeth had done her work well. The bandages she had already wrapped around Vikki’s body contained her easily, and were effective at restraining movement. “I’m sorry about this,” Elizabeth said, not even looking up from her work. “But it must be done.” There was sadness in her voice. It was clear that Elizabeth didn’t like doing this. “Well… I’m sorry I panicked,” Vikki said. “I shouldn’t have.” “It’s natural for you to do so. Everyone does.” “I was created and raised to be obedient and submissive. Not to panic and run like a coward.” “Tell me,” Elizabeth said. “Why were you created?” Vikki shrugged… or tried to, as her arms were tightly restrained. “GELFs were created to be cheap, mass-produced, tailor-made servants for a variety of tasks. In my case, I was designed as an electrical infrastructure technician… mainly a fancy way of saying I crawled around and lay cables in walls.” “Is that what your rubber suit is about?” “Yes… it was specially grown and designed to bond with my skin.” “You mean you were supposed to keep it on all the time?” Vikki nodded. Elizabeth was surprised enough that she stopped the bandaging for a moment. “Then how did you relieve yourself?” “Our bodies were designed to produce very little waste. The little we do produce is converted somehow into nourishment for the rubber symbiote.” “So you were just a living toy?” “You could have said it more politely, but yes. All in all, life wasn’t too bad.” She looked down at her wrappings. “I just never imagined it would end this way.” Elizabeth was quiet as she continued Vikki’s mummification. “Life often goes in ways we cannot imagine.” “If I may ask… why the wrappings?” “I do this to most people who get buried here. It is my favorite form of restraining people. Only the most horrible get something else. Arm binders are an efficient way to make people’s arms sore, and if they can’t escape it, imagine how awful it must get over the course of an eternity.” Vikki was silent. “I wish I didn’t have to do this,” Elizabeth said. “Especially on someone who doesn’t deserve an eternal sentence.” “If I may ask,” Vikki said. “You told me that everyone gets punished. Were you ever punished for your sins?” “No, not yet.” Elizabeth said quietly. “Mine is two-fold. I have to watch over this place and administer it without a break until the entire human race enters. Only after humanity goes extinct will I be mummified and buried for eternity.” Vikki was stunned. “Why?” Elizabeth paused, trying to compose her thoughts. “In life, I was one of the Spanish inquisitors. My specialty was torture, to break people, no matter the cost. I was constantly learning new methods and practices to get results, and my cruelty brought me damnation everlasting. I deserved to suffer as I have made others suffer, even if it was a just punishment. Creating and ruling this place is only delaying the punishment, not stopping it.” Things went quiet as Elizabeth continued Vikki’s bandaging. For almost an hour she continued to wind the wrappings around the helpless vixen, sealing her inside an inescapable cocoon. When she was finished, only Vikki’s face was sticking out from the bandages. The rest of her body was covered and tightly sealed away. Looking down at herself, Vikki tried to move, but could only manage a faint wiggle, feeling the tightness of the bandages as they compressed down on her. But Elizabeth wasn’t finished. She pulled out a tub full of clear liquid and began to dip her hands in it, then rubbing the liquid over the wrappings. It took Vikki a few moments to realize what it was… resin. She was being coated in resin, which, when hardened, would make movement even more difficult, perhaps utterly impossible. The process went on for ten minutes, until all her wrappings were coated. Five minutes later, and the resin hardened, cracking slightly as it settled. A thick neoprene sleep sack was produced, and Elizabeth began to wiggle Vikki into it. With the bag being an almost exact fit, it was difficult to get her inside, but once she was, Elizabeth pulled the zipper shut, and buckled the thick collar down, locking Vikki inside another layer of restraint. Then came the belts. Lots of black leather belts were wound around Vikki and the bag, then slowly cinched together, squeezing and compressing her body even further. Vikki could only watch helplessly as she felt herself being compressed. But when the last belt was cinched over her breasts, it was done. Picking up another roll of bandages, Elizabeth hung it from a hook on her belt. She went towards Vikki’s head and began to push the stone tablet she was on, making it rise a few inches off the ground and allowing her to glide it across the floor. They went to the elevator and rose from the depths of the tomb, leaving the screams and the weeping behind, until they were finally in the fortress, and then outside once again, making their way towards a freshly constructed pyramid. “I decided that it would not be right to force you into making your own tomb,” Elizabeth said as they got closer. “So I created it for you.” As they approached Vikki’s pyramid, she began to breathe deeper and deeper, sweat forming on her forehead, knowing that this was a one way trip. Every second she was spending outside the pyramid was one of the last seconds she would ever spend seeing the outside world. Elizabeth stopped. “You know… there is no need for this place to be so depressing. We could make it a tomb fit for a queen.” She raised her arms and closed her eyes. Seconds later, lush greenery sprung forth from the desert around the pyramid, turning it into a beautiful oasis, lush with trees and cool water. But that wasn’t all. The pyramid itself was changing, the blocks shifting from granite into solid gold, making the pyramid shine and sparkle. It was hauntingly beautiful, and Vikki couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen, and it was awe inspiring, knowing that it was for her. Such an elegant tomb for someone who would only see it once. With the changes complete, Elizabeth began to push the table again, heading towards the entrance. She went slowly though, giving Vikki enough time to look around and get her last glimpse of the open, and the greenery around her. They reached the entrance. Elizabeth stopped, stood aside, allowing Vikki one last moment to look around. She did so, appreciating the gesture, trying to take in as much as she could about the sky, the clouds, the grass and the trees, trying to get them into her memory in as much detail as possible. Then the moment was over. Elizabeth began to slowly push the platform, and they went inside the pyramid. Vikki looked back for as long as possible, tears falling from her eyes. There was only a single tunnel inside the gold pyramid, and it went on for almost five minutes, until they reached an open chamber similar to the one the two prisoners had been sealed in. Like the pyramid itself, it was solid gold, but there was something that was different. There was a deep shaft at the back, just the right size for a sarcophagus to be lowered inside. “We have arrived.” Elizabeth said. “Your tomb.” “Pretty,” Vikki said, trying to be humorous, failing. “So… you’re just going to leave me here?” “No, you’re not like those two abominations entombed earlier. You will receive the burial of royalty.” She snapped her fingers. A solid gold coffin appeared. Another snap and a matching sarcophagus appeared. “So… I’m just going to be buried, and that’s it?” “Normally, yes. Buried and forgotten. But because you are a special case, I don’t believe you deserve that. I can never release you, but I can help make enduring this more bearable. Remember how you were initially going to do ten years?” Vikki nodded. “I will apply that to your sentence, so that after ten years, you’ll fall into a very deep sleep, one that you’ll never wake from. You’ll sleep forever, a fate that no one else has ever received.” Vikki felt a rush of relief. Even though she was never being released, at least she would, in a way, have an escape from her eternal burial. “But do not forget, you will still have to endure ten years of burial.” The cold realization snapped Vikki out of her relieved stupor. She watched as Elizabeth pulled the bandages off her belt and began to unwind them. “I’m sorry, but we have to finish wrapping you up.” “Before you do that,” Vikki said quickly. “I have a last request.” “Yes?” “I know this sounds odd… but could you line the interior of my coffin with rubber?” Elizabeth gave a faint smile, then waved her hands. The interior of the coffin was suddenly lined with slick, firm rubber. Reaching down, Elizabeth lifted Vikki up, letting her see the inside of her coffin. “Does that match what you want?” Vikki nodded, smiling. “Yes.” Elizabeth lowered her back onto the tablet, taking the wrappings in hand. Then, without a word, she began to wind the bandage around the vixen’s head. It was the part that Vikki had been most afraid of… .the final bandaging. She knew that in a manner of minutes, she was going to loose her sight forever. She would be encased completely, never to see, hear, or feel the warmth of touch ever again. She was afraid that she would panic, would struggle, would break down and beg for mercy. But she remembered her upbringing. She remembered how she had been bred and trained to follow orders without question, to be submissive, to be good and obedient, even when she was afraid. She would not let the fear get to her. Steeling her resolve, Vikki remained still and allowed Elizabeth to wrap her head. She did not resist as she was slowly wound up, inch by inch, the white fur of her face vanishing under the bandages, sealed away for all time. The bandages came to her mouth. Both knew what was coming next. “I’m sorry.” Elizabeth said. Vikki nodded. “I know.” She closed her mouth, and kept it shut as bandages were tightly wound around it. A few minutes later, and her muzzle was completely covered. Elizabeth then moved on, getting closer and closer to her eyes. It was obvious that she was trying to avoid wrapping them as long as possible, but sooner or later, she would have to cover them. Vikki, now silent, looked up towards Elizabeth, to the gold ceiling. She could just faintly see her own reflection in the shiny metal. It was the first time she had seen herself like this, and Vikki gave an involuntary shudder of pleasure at seeing herself so tightly wrapped up and bound as she was. There was a flicker of movement at the corner of her vision. The bandaging had reached her eyes. Elizabeth looked down at her, pausing. Their eyes looked at each other… the condemned and the executor. Leaning over, Elizabeth softly kissed Vikki’s forehead. Vikki, taking one last look upwards, saw the gold all around her… and Elizabeth’s soft, bittersweet face. She closed her eyes. Elizabeth wound the bandages over Vikki’s closed eyes. She did the job quickly, wrapping over them several times, until they were firmly in place. With the first layer done, she proceeded to wrap Vikki’s head again, this time with an additional four layers of bandages, making each roll tighter and tighter then the last, until the vixen’s head was squeezed and compressed under the wrappings. Being dead, and thus not being able to breathe, Vikki had no worry of suffocating. When the last bandage was tied down and glued in place, Elizabeth looked at Vikki’s head. She then pulled out a neoprene hood to match her sleep sack, and fit it on, covering the bandages. It was a very snug fit, with no holes for eyes, mouth, ears, or nose. That was followed by interlacing the hood with the rest of the sack, then buckling the two together, ensuring that Vikki was truly locked inside. Vikki’s chest just barely rose and fell within her restraints. She was breathing very deeply, no doubt trying not to panic. Standing, Elizabeth took the tablet and moved it next to the coffin. Then she leaned over and took the sack in her arms, lifted Vikki up and wiggled her over to the coffin. She was surprised to feel Vikki shifting, actually trying to help make the job easier, to assist in her own burial. Elizabeth was touched by the gesture, amazed that the vixen would do such a thing, rather then struggling to escape. Such high character deserved to be rewarded. Elizabeth held the encased vixen close to her, squeezing her tightly in a hug, stroking and kissing her. It was a gift to Vikki… the last, warm touch she would ever know for eternity. Elizabeth felt Vikki relaxing underneath her hug, going limp. It was on that note, that she gently shifted and lay Vikki inside her coffin, the rubber interior squeezing against her body, creating a form fitting cradle. A few belts were strapped down across the body, then cinched tightly, locking Vikki down even further. Moving quickly, Elizabeth took hold of the gold lid, lowered it onto the coffin. But she went slowly, watching Vikki’s form as long as she could, as she was swallowed by darkness, inch by inch. Then the lid was on. The latches were clasped and locked, sealing Vikki inside forever. Elizabeth floated the coffin into the air and maneuvered it into the sarcophagus, of which the rubber lining ensured a snug fit. But that wasn’t enough, for Elizabeth had to be thorough, or risk the wrath of the powers that be, by not taking enough precautions. A tub of resin was produced, and gallon after gallon was poured into the sarcophagus, burying the coffin until it was little more then a gold haze under four feet of the liquid. The lid to the sarcophagus was taken and placed on, then latched and locked down as well. Resin oozed out, dripping down the side of the sarcophagus, dropping onto the floor. Elizabeth wiped it away, not wanting Vikki’s encasement to be sloppy, for it had to be clean and pristine. There wasn’t much left to be done now. All that remained was to bury Vikki for good. To that end, Elizabeth moved the sarcophagus towards the deep shaft in the back of the room. It was quite deep, and was cut so exact, that the sarcophagus fit it like a glove. When she pushed it in far enough, it fell, plunging down the shaft with a loud whoosh, shoving air upwards as it shot down, vanishing into the depths. It would continue on, until the shaft became tighter, slowing it, eventually bringing it to a gentle stop. Elizabeth conjured several long hoses that purged cement. With fifty of them going at full bore, she poured concrete into the shaft, millions of gallons worth, filling it up until the liquid came to a stop at the very top of the shaft, whereupon she smoothed it out until there was no sign that a shaft had ever existed. She looked at the spot for the longest time. Deep down, Vikki was lying in state, entombed. To even try and dig her up would be impractical, if not impossible. It was with a heavy heart that Elizabeth left the room. Giant stone slabs, each weighing thousands of tons, were put inside, blocking up the entrance. As she walked out of the hallway, stone after stone thundered into place, cracking the ground, each one ensuring that it would take hundreds, if not thousands of years to cut through. She reached the exit, and the largest stone of all fell into place, sealing the pyramid up forever. It was done. *** Elizabeth knew she had other people to process, new arrivals who had to be judged and sentenced, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. For hours she stood, watching the pyramid, Vikki’s elegant crypt. It was the most beautiful tomb that would ever be built. None would even come close, Elizabeth would ensure that. Like all others, Vikki had done wrong, and she had to be punished. But she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve an eternal sentence for the simple fact that she wasn’t human. The vixen was inside, sealed away forever. She would never know Paradise, never know anything but darkness and silence within her cocoon. In a way, her brief life had been a fraud. Her true existence was one of restraint. For the rest of eternity, even when time itself died, Vikki would continue on, sealed away and immobile, never to be released. A sobering thought. Still, Elizabeth could at least console herself with the thought that once ten years had passed, Vikki would fall into an endless sleep. She would be spared the effects of being locked in a tiny space and knowing that it was forever. Those ten years would be hard… but brief, in the eyes of eternity. Then again, perhaps Vikki might enjoy it. She had never mentioned it to Elizabeth, but she knew that Vikki had been into mummification and encasement. All that data had been in her personal file, how many hours she had spent in both situations while still alive. And now, in her last ten years of awareness before the eternal sleep, she was going to get the ultimate experience, the fantasy to end all fantasies. To be mummified and entombed… forever. Perhaps, while sending her to hell, Elizabeth had given her a taste of heaven. And in the end, that was the best gift she could give. Turning, Elizabeth walked away, leaving the golden pyramid to sparkle in the fires of the Inferno.

Cuckold Conspiracy to Trash

Wed, 17 Feb 2010 00:00:00 +0000

“This is an odd way to make a sculpture, Amy.” I wiggled my toes and fingers while she dipped another twenty-four inch length of two inch wide cloth through the vat of liquefied cornstarch.

“It’s totally normal. You cast a body, and once you take it off, you fill. Then you make a second cast for the bronze-work. I know what I’m doing.” She wrapped the layer around my thigh, adding to the nearly inch thickness that already had me thinking of the tin-man.

Desert Escapade2

Tue, 09 Feb 2010 00:00:00 +0000

continued from part one

For Gromet and all those who read this site. You are real to me. This is a work of fiction. As per standard, take extreme care when you tie and/or bind or lock yourself up. And especially when you play with anyone. Don’t, I repeat, DON’T burn anyone! And always have an ‘out’. Know your limits. And know theirs. Otherwise you may very well kick that nasty breathing to live habit you got going on. Savvy? Anyway, on with it.

Spell of Protection

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 00:00:00 +0000

The pouring rain thundered onto the small car as it sped down the road, disregarding the posted speed limits. The driver, a thin man named Ted, was not up for obeying the speed limits.

After all, when you’re being chased by the police, you’re not usually up for driving safely.

“Shit!”

Spinning the steering wheel, he swung the car off the road and into a nearby alley, but saw that it was a dead end. There was no way out, save a tall wooden fence.

The Black Coffins

Sun, 30 Aug 2009 00:00:00 +0000

They came from nowhere.

On that ordinary day, millions of people woke to find something most unusual.

There were black coffins. Millions of them. In every city, every farm, every suburb and neighborhood, in every street they stood. Millions of black coffins.

When you walked out into the street on that morning and saw the coffins for yourself, you thought it was some kind of prank. That seemed the most likely explanation, and your neighbors agreed with you.

Dream Come True

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000

She had been dreaming about it again. It always started the same, a summer evening, a gentle wind blowing through the trees of the forest that she walked through, and then she would come upon it. A large pile of earth, next to a deep pit that seemed to call to her, want her. She would go to the edge of the pit and look down; it was a deep narrow hole in the soft earth. It looked as though she would only have enough room to stand. She would place her feet on the bottom of the pit, and then stand there for a moment, taking a handful of the dirt, and rubbing it on her. Taking a moment, she would position herself in the bottom in a fetal position. As she would do this, it would seem as though the walls of the pit would begin to turn to mud and slowly begin to fill in around her form, flowing over every part of her. Soon it would stop, and the mountainous pile at the top of the hole would begin to slowly sink in on top of her crumpled form. Then all would go black.

Dream Come True

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000

The Sand Trap

Thu, 09 Apr 2009 00:00:00 +0000

I awoke to a back-rub and her voice in a whisper, “It’s time to wake up, my boy.”

I rolled over in half-consciousness on the bed and cracked an eye open. It was dark. If it weren’t for the table lamp on her side of the bed, the only light that would’ve entered the bedroom would be star-light and a couple of house lights across the street. Even then, the dimmer on the lamp was set to ’low'.

The Sand Trap

Thu, 09 Apr 2009 00:00:00 +0000

I awoke to a back-rub and her voice in a whisper, “It’s time to wake up, my boy.”

Miko’s Mummification

Sat, 17 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000

Miko was an ordinary 19-year-old Japanese girl, except she had one secret, and that was that she loved mummification bondage. She would often get together with her sister, Makasaki, and spend entire nights wrapping each of them. But Miko had a very shocking surprise coming to her in this night’s session.

When Makasaki asked Miko if she wanted to start her session early, she agreed. They both went into the basement, where they usually did their sessions, and started to work. Makasaki wanted to use duct tape for this session.

Deep in the Forest

Fri, 09 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000

‘I am disappointed in you, Paolo. Very disappointed.’

Paolo looked at his uncle without fear. He has seen grown men, strong men, shiver with fright facing Don Enrico, but not Paolo. He had been stupid of course. He should have made that drugs delivery last night as his uncle had told him to do; a delivery worth millions is not something to take lightly. Instead, he had become distracted by the blonde bimbo, who had clung to him in the club. Like any hot blooded 21-year old Italian stud, he was easily distracted by his loins. His mind wandered over the events of the night before. How she had flirted with him on the dance floor, cupping his balls and leaving him in no doubt she was offering more. He had taken her back to his apartment, tied her to his bed and fucked her raw for so long that he couldn’t remember how often he had cum. In the beginning she had been more than willing, if slightly uneasy because of the bondage. He distinctly remembered how he had penetrated her every orifice with his manhood; a tool so big it could challenge a donkey’s. She had begged him not to when he had turned her over and lined up the big pole with her virgin arsehole, but he had just laughed and taken her roughly, ramming half his length into her with a single mighty push.

Deep in the Forest

Fri, 09 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000

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.

‘I am disappointed in you, Paolo. Very disappointed.’

Into the Rubber Grave

Wed, 07 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000

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.

Into the Rubber Grave

Wed, 07 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000

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.

But by the end of the day, there would be no laughter.

Corey's Ancient Tomb

Mon, 22 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Take it from me, and how I learned it the hard way. Never time travel. Oh sure, it’s billed as the greatest thing you’ll ever experience, but believe me, it’s a bitch. Nothing quite like going back in time to an ancient civilization to see how things are run, only to suddenly fall into the hands of ancient barbarians who don’t take kindly to visitors from other times. You see, they always, without fail, think people from the future are demons, evil spirits, or all manner of foul things. Utter and complete nonsense of course, but they never listen, are never open to reason. What’s that? You want to hear an example of what can go wrong on one of these trips? Well, it’s not pretty, I assure you. There have been many people who go back in time, only to never return for one reason or another. Most of the time we never find out what happened to them, but occasionally some of their fates are documented. They’re never pretty. What? You still want to know what happens? Well, all right. Since you’re so inquisitive, I’ll tell you the story of Corey. Out of all our customers, his fate is pretty tame compared to some of our other clients. Certainly better then being swallowed whole by a T-Rex, I’ll tell you that. Anyway, it began way in the future. Actually, the present day for him. Here is he, Corey, a man looking for a bit of excitement and fun in his life, seeking that next big thrill to propel him out of the ordinary and into the extraordinary, into the small group of privileged guys who have done the impossible… they’ve traveled through time and come back to brag about it to their friends. Like any other hot-blooded male, he feels challenged by this and wants to show that he’s done it too. Don’t know why, but why is it that males always want to impress each other with these stupid stunts? Ah, never mind. And as it just so happens, Corey’s saved up just enough money to take a trip through time. Sight seeing of course, not to alter it. Corey’s not that stupid. So the day comes when he walks off sniggering at his buddies and heads into the time travel building and applies for a time travel visa. He’s given all these forms to sign, including the one that says if a traveler causes damage to the time space continuum, he’s on his own (with all his money non-refundable of course, and freeing the time travel company from any liability). Anyway, he’s all pissed off at all these damn forms, but slugs through them anyway, gives all the necessary permissions and pays the money. With that done, the guys in charge take him back into the briefing rooms, where he undergoes a day long class on proper time travel procedures and how to act and behave in the past. No interacting with the locals, no letting them know you’re even there, yatta yatta yatta. Real standard boring shit. But to Corey’s credit, he watches and learns, taking lots of notes and pouring over every word. When the day’s classes are done, he’s actually very knowledgeable about time travel procedure and how to do it. Never thought a hot blooded man like him would have it in him if you ask me. Come the next day, they get him ready. Corey’s issued a tight fitting body glove that covers him head to toe, covering every square inch of his body. Because I know you’re curious, these suits are made of a very tight, thick rubbery material that clings to the body. When first put on it’s easy to feel a bit sensual, but it can also be quite frightening if you’re claustrophobic. Yeah… that isn’t very fun. Anyway, not that it mattered to Corey anyway. He did fine, even seemed to enjoy the experience as the suit was put on. If you looked at his eyes through the eyepieces, he seemed to be very excited at what was going on, in more ways then one. His tour guide (all travelers get one) comes in, meets him, and then she’s suited up. But it doesn’t take long before his suit suddenly changed colors from default black to a near transparency of the surrounding room. You see, that’s the real treat about these suits… they’re designed to act as active camouflage, constantly bending and refracting light to make the wearer almost completely invisible. That’s why it has to cover your entire body, to make sure that all of you is kept out of sight. It was quite a thing for him to see how he was almost completely invisible. Even seemed to get a kick out of moving his limbs around and barely being able to see them. But his guide was impatient and eager to get going. For she wasn’t one who liked being sealed up in the suits for long periods of time… she was a bit claustrophobic (remember this, it’s important). When all was said and done, there was little left to do except take the time travel controllers. Each device, when activated, would allow Corey and his guide to travel back in time, but with a catch. After each use, the device had to be recharged for a minimum of half an hour before it could be used again. Not exactly safe, I know, but that’s as far as we’ve gotten with this kind of technology, especially since it takes a long time for the time space continuum to close up after each warp. With controllers in hand, the two mounted a small hover platform, which they would ride while in the past, so as not to leave footprints or any trace that they had ever been there. And like their suits, it was also made out of invisibility technology. Every conceivable precaution to ensure the two wouldn’t be seen, every precaution taken to ensure safety and no disruption of the time space continuum. Can you guess how long it took for things to go horribly wrong? Corey had one destination in mind when he had signed up for the expedition. Out of all the times in history to explore, he had chosen to go to… surprise, surprise… ancient Egypt. Land of the pharaohs. Why so many people are obsessed with that era I have no idea, but Corey was the latest to go back in time for a visit. And with two presses of a button, he and his guide were off. One quick and somewhat nauseating trip though time and worm holes later, and they emerged into the desert near the pyramids, still pristine and shiny in the hot afternoon sun. It only took a few seconds for their suits and the platform to sense and adjust their transparency accordingly, rendering them nearly invisible amongst the sand and heat. ‘Almost’ being the key word. For as luck, or maybe fate, I don’t know, would have it, the two land in the path of a chariot out for an afternoon drive. While they had faded into invisibility before being spotted, Corey had failed to hover far enough into the air to avoid a collision with the horses. And as you can guess, there’s a big collision. Horses tumble, rider gets knocked off the chariot and Corey and his guide get thrown into the sand, loosing their grips on the time travel controllers, which go flying into the sand. But with the sudden shock of being hit, the active camouflage in their suits quickly fizzle out, leaving both of them standing in the hot desert sealed in black rubber suits. Then, to make things even worse, ancient bodyguards come running over the ridge at that moment, spears, swords and shields raised. “Did we hit someone important?” Corey asks. “Apparently so.” His guide says, realizing that they’re in deep shit. Turns out she’s right. Corey and his guide try to flee, but it’s too late. Besides, running in black rubber in temperatures over 100 degrees is bound to tire out people fast. Doubly fast if they’re in black rubber. It’s only a few seconds before they’re tackled. Corey and his guide aren’t killed, but they are forced into the sand, where their hands are forced behind their backs and tied up in thick rope, the same happening to their ankles. “Hey, wait! I can explain!” Corey shouts in fear as his ankles are tied together. But of course, these guys don’t understand English. Only a few seconds pass before the high tech travelers from the future are bound and helpless. So much for high technology, eh? I mean, they’re tied up with ropes and are suddenly helpless! If anything, I think that set a new record for the shortest accident free trip in the history of the company. So what happens next you say? Well, the two are carried and put onto chariots and driven back to the royal palace, struggling all the way, but aware of one very important fact… their time travel controllers are gone, lost somewhere in the sand. They’re also aware of the fact that finding them again is very, very unlikely. You getting an idea on how this is going? Well, anyway, the convoy goes just slow enough so that they arrive at the capital at nightfall. (I’m not sure, but apparently the court officials didn’t want the public to see the two rubber aliens in their midst). It’s here that irony plays it’s hand, for while he’s a prisoner, Corey’s original goal in this trip is fulfilled. He gets to see the capital city of ancient Egypt up close and personal while being wheeled towards what is very likely going to be an unpleasant fate. His guide almost asks how he likes Egypt… but she holds off. After all, she’s in the same situation too, and doesn’t think that now is the time for sightseeing. Once reaching the palace, the two are unloaded off the chariots, forced onto the ground and untied, only to have steel shackles locked around their ankles and wrists. Even more so then the ropes, these make sure the two aren’t going anywhere in a hurry. And as if that wasn’t enough, heavy iron collars go around their necks. Both are panicking, but Corey seems to hold up better then his guide, who’s fighting and thrashing against her restraints. Even as the iron collar is locked tightly around his throat, he manages to stay on his feet, something his guide can’t manage. She was having a complete nervous breakdown. Apparently, the Egyptians didn’t know what to think of these two strange intruders, but they weren’t taking any chances whatsoever. The next few days are quite stressful for the two of them, but I’ll spare you the details. It’s just a lot of being chained up in the dungeons, being looked over by the officials and being given angry glares by pretty much everybody. At first neither Corey or his guide know why, but they do talk about it over the radio when they have a few moments alone. Most likely to do with the person they hit in the chariot, they eventually decide. It won’t be long before they find out that they’re right. During that time, Corey’s guide tries to get a connection back to the modern day to get help. But unfortunately, that attempt doesn’t work. Either the transmitter can’t get through the continuum, maybe the receivers aren’t working, or even more sinister, perhaps the corporation won’t answer, doesn’t want to get any evidence on it’s hands that it knew customers were in trouble and that it failed to rescue them. Plausible deniability perhaps, but who knows? With big corporations, anything can and does happen. Not a happy thought. Well, the next few days are a blur, with both being led around to various court officials, examined like cattle. Humiliating and degrading, but there’s not a whole lot Corey and the guide can do about it. They’re restrained at all times and trailed by guards with spears. Bored guards as well, seeing as how they seemed to be itching for a chance to use the two for target practice. One night the two are in the dungeons, talking with each other over the radios. “You doing okay?” Corey asks. “Not really.” “You afraid we’re going to die?” “Yes. But my skin is getting itchy in this suit.” She tries to rub her body against the concrete wall. “I need a shower.” Corey rubs against the wall as well, trying to get of the irritating itch on his back, and his buttocks as well. Though the travel suits are high tech and can allow their wearers to remain inside for days at a time, it’s not designed so that they can stay inside forever. And going to the bathroom? Well, let’s not talk about that. “You been able to get through back to our time?” Corey asks. “I’ve been trying, but no luck yet. But they should answer us eventually… I don’t know why they haven’t yet.” Silence at that. Though it’s not spoken, both are keenly aware that they’ve altered time and history. Hitting somebody is one thing, but no records have ever been found regarding strange black suited figures in ancient Egypt. Their simple presence here after being discovered has no doubt altered the fabric of history. Who knows what the consequences could be? At that, the doors open up and about twelve guards walk in, along with several priests, one of whom pulls out a scroll and starts to talk. “You have any idea what he’s saying?” Corey asks. “Not a clue.” His guide replies. That surprises him. “I thought you were a tour guide!” “Yeah, but I’m just to make sure that clients don’t screw around and mess things up! I’m not supposed to go back in time and get captured by ancient dead people!” Groaning in frustration, Corey listens closely to the priest’s babbling. One thing is clear. Whatever he’s talking about, it’s clearly not good. That would explain the angry look on his face and the angry tone in his voice. After the priest stops talking, the two are unlocked from the dungeon wall, dragged outside the palace and thrown into chariots, which then take off into the night. “Well, this can’t be good.” Corey says through the radio. His guide isn’t amused. “Oh shut up! Of course it’s not good! We’re probably going to be taken somewhere to be executed!” Oh, what tangled words are weaved in such irony! Anyway, to continue… They get driven out into the desert for about an hour, until the small convoy reaches a small mountain range, where the chariots drive into the clefts, heading deep into the mountains before arriving at a small, hidden doorway carved into the mountains, and quite recently judging by all the sculptors and buildings bustling around it like bees. As the two are unloaded from the chariots and dragged towards the door, both of them have that deep gut feeling that this can’t possibly be good. Not at all. They’re taken down the stairs and through the door, heading down a long tunnel until they reach a large and elaborate room being filled with all manner of treasures and riches beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, gold upon gold, gilded chairs and elaborate statues. It’s a room fit for a king… but with that large sarcophagus being built, it’s clear that this room is a tomb. “Wait a minute…” Corey says fearfully. “I know this place.” “You do? Have you come through here before?” His guide says sarcastically, trying to cover up her own insecurities. As it turns out, she recognizes this place too. They both recognize the ornaments, the gold, the sarcophagus, even the layout of the place. This is none other then the tomb of King Tut, the boy king. It doesn’t take long for the two to realize that that was the person they had hit upon arriving here in Egypt. And the only reason they’re building a tomb is because he died. Yeah… things are that bad. Tut’s tomb isn’t destined to be found in thousands of years. But during that time, it turns out that Tut won’t go to his grave alone, for there’s another room in the very back of the tomb, just recently carved out of the rock at great haste. This is a side grave, very small, just big enough for two coffins. You know all those stories of people being buried alive throughout history? You ever notice how frequently those stories seem to center around ancient Egypt? As it turns out, court officials seem to love doing this to those who displease them… and especially to those who kill their kings. It only takes Corey and his guide a few moments to realize what this is what their fate is going to be, especially when lots of guards come inside carrying boxes upon boxes of funeral bandages. And you can probably guess what happens next. They’re forced onto the ground, shackles unlocked, and guards grabbing their limbs and stretching them out. Panicked scream and shouting fill the air as Corey and his guide are mummified alive, wrapped head to toe in those funeral bandages, rubber suits and all (the guards try cutting them off, but when that fails they just wrap over them). There’s no ripping the brains out or removing the organs, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less painful… the guards make sure that the two are going to be real sore, taking care to wrap their legs and arms excruciatingly tightly, going so far as to force arms behind their backs in an armbar position and wrapping them there. Despite the hopelessness of their situation (there’s really no chance to escape with all the guards around), Corey and his guide still fight, fighting for everything their worth, knowing that if they get wrapped, it means death. It’s a defiant gesture, but ultimately helpless one, but then again, one’s instincts override reason in times of stress. For Corey, the process is especially horrifying. Here he was, a guy who had gone back in time to impress his friends, and now here he was, being mummified alive. The bandages come over and over again, sealing him inside his cocoon, each layer of wrappings making it harder and harder to struggle and fight. He can’t feel the bandages through the rubber bodysuit, but he feels the restriction, the binding, the force that slowly but surely immobilizes him, ensuring that each successive struggle gets weaker and weaker. It doesn’t help that while the two are being wrapped, two coffins are being made right next to them. Occasionally the coffin makers will come over and observe the bodies of the two captives, make a note or two, then go over and make the necessary corrections on the coffins. Can’t make them too big, after all. As if to further add to the horror, Corey and his guide can still talk with their radios. But there are no words this time, no sarcasm, no words of support. They just hear each other struggling, but Corey is especially scared to her his guide panicking utterly. She’s fighting and squirming to try and escape the bandages that are imprisoning her, so consumed by her own fear that she doesn’t even seem to notice anyone else, much less Corey. Despite the two fighting and struggling, the outcome of this execution is all but inevitable. After half an hour the layers of bandages are so thick that movement is now all but impossible. Both Corey and his guide’s faces have long since been covered over, sealing them in darkness, possibly forever. At that point, there is no way that Corey or his guide can get out on their own. And with each passing second, escape seems less and less of a reality and more of a desperate fantasy. Sealed inside his double cocoon of rubber and bandages, Corey can’t move, can’t hear anything but the sound of his own labored breathing, his frantically pounding heart, and his frantic gasps as he struggles not to completely loose his mind at the thought of being entombed alive forever in the Egyptian desert, never to escape. He can also hear the sound of his guide, now sobbing and weeping, rocking back and forth inside her wrappings as she’s picked up and carried over towards one of the coffins. Remember what I said earlier about her being claustrophobic? Well, that made her mummification almost unbearable, but being sealed into a coffin just pushes her over the edge into insanity. And then Corey feels himself being picked up too, carried to his own coffin, squirming helplessly. The touch of wood against his wrappings is bone chilling as he’s lowered inside. Inside the coffin, feeling the wooden surfaces surrounding him, Corey tries once more to fight his way free, but it’s a futile effort. He knows it’s useless, but at this point he can’t just lie back helplessly and surrender to fate. Even if he’s going to never escape, he can at least go out fighting. But amongst all the struggling, he can hear something outside of his cocoon… the sound of a wooden lid being lowered onto his coffin, and then the sound of nails being hammered into the wood hard and fast, locking his body inside this tiny prison from which there may never be any escape. The words drive themselves into his brain with each beat of the hammer… no escape… no release… Ever. When the nailing is complete, the two coffins, containing the two living mummies, are lifted and carried one after the other into the room and stacked on top of one another. And when that’s done, it’s on to the inevitable, final, and irreversible step. Within their tiny worlds, neither of the tomb’s occupants can see as the guards leave the room and extinguish the torches, nor can they see as bricks and mortar are carried over and began to be put in place, slowly walling up the room one by one, stone by stone, by single stone. But they can feel it. Through the ground they can feel as each massive brick is put into place and then sealed in place. And with that comes the horrible realization that this is really happening… that this is their tomb, where they will spend eternity, forever sealed within these boxes, ending their lives centuries before they were even born, forever King Tut’s prisoners, sealed inside this crypt. Perhaps in thousands of years, when King Tut’s tomb is discovered, this small grave off to the side will be discovered as well. They’ll break away that thick wall, find these two coffins inside and open them to discover bandage wrapped rubber bodies inside. Or they may never find them… for after all, Tut’s tomb had been found and excavated for years, and the small room had never been found. But even if it’s found then, it’s going to be too late. In fact, the two might not even be in there. Heck, the room may not even exist. If we’re lucky, the company will discover that something’s wrong and will come and rescue us. I certainly hope so… I know I’m loosing my mind… I might have even lost it already! I mean, we accidentally killed Tut and now we’ve been buried alive! So that’s my story… I’m sending this message out into time and space in the hopes that it lands on something… a computer maybe, so that somebody can find out what happened to us and then send help. I know this all sounds nuts, but you have to believe me, being buried alive can do a lot to your mind! I can hear Corey’s mummy sobbing in his coffin, no doubt from realizing that this is quite possibly where we end our journey and I don’t blame him. After all, he’s just another guy who wanted to impress his buddies… but if I ever get out of here, I swear I’m never going to be time travel tour guide again!

Trash Goth

Fri, 05 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000

I remember meeting him on the train going into work. He was dressed like some kind of goth: a black leather trenchcoat worn over a black t-shirt, black spandex tights, and black leather workboots. He also had gorgeous, fluffy dark hair. He sat in the seat across from me, flashed me a quick smile, and began reading a broadsheet newspaper. He would rustle the paper quite noisily everytime he turned a page. I don’t think he was doing that to annoy me, however.

The Forest People

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Our village has always lived by the cycle of the forest, we rely on it for our food, our shelter, our materials, every aspect of our lives is provided by the spirit of the forest. And so it was that our religion developed around a respect and reverence for the forest, which is demonstrated most significantly in our Spring rituals.

We believe that to take from the forest, we must invest back, and to each year send one of our number to join the forest as a gift, or a delegate as you will. Each year someone is chosen, someone of good pure spirit who can represent us well, to be buried in the ground where their spirit will leave it’s human form and be taken instead into a fresh sapling which will grow into a sacred tree, our gift to the forest.

The Forest People

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +0000

The Sands of Time

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +0000

continues from part seven

Michelle 8: The Sands of Time

When Emma rang and invited me to go and join her and her partner, Helen, for the weekend, she tantalisingly added that she had come up with something for me that she thought I would enjoy. As Steve was away that weekend, I leapt at the offer, setting out on the Friday after work, taking my toys with me.

Typically, Emma wouldn’t tell me what was in store for me until the next morning after I had eaten and completed my morning ablutions. Even then, she just told me to get myself ready. I was to strip, fit any vibrators I wanted, and put on rubber pants to hold them in position.

The Sands of Time

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +0000

also appears in selfbound stories

The Sands of Time

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +0000

The White Casket

Sun, 09 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +0000

The white casket was a thing of beauty, and when HE locked me in it, it was my own, private, bondage prison.

There would be no use telling you our real names – we’d just be another pair of names in the bondage world. Not much different than anybody else who was into bondage. So I shall always refer to my Master as ‘HE’.

We met on the Internet, in one of the many bondage chat rooms. HE took a liking to my profile, and sought me out, asking me – TELLING me to meet him in the private bondage chat room at ten o’clock that night. The private chat room could be set up so that nobody except those you approved, could read your messages while you were ‘in session’.

Retired from Active Bondage

Sat, 16 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +0000

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.

Retired from Active Bondage

Sat, 16 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +0000

A Fantasy that went too far

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000

I had always had a fantasy of being thrown away into a waste disposal site and buried alive in a landfill. The urge grew stronger as my years wore on, and then I found the perfect mechanism to make it happen. Of course it was still just going to be a fantasy, but I could at least make it seem more real, and partly play it out.

On my walk to work each day, I cut through the back of a shopping mall - the delivery & services area. I noticed that at one end there was a skip that would fill up with flat-packed cardboard. I noted that this was always empty on a Monday morning, and about half full on a Friday evening. This gave me my plan… I would climb in on Friday night when all the stores were closed and spend the night in there fantasising that a truck would take me away. I didn’t realise at the time it would come true though. After weeks of plotting I decided to go ahead and see what it would be like to sleep the night in there, being careful that I wouldn’t actually get trashed for real, just a fantasy, as I’d climb out again early Saturday morning before the shops opened.

Buried Alive

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000

It was the strangest thing, ever since he could remember, Alex had always been utterly fascinated by the concept of being buried alive. He didn`t know why, but he found the thought unbelievably exciting. The finality of it, the act of supreme dominance & control over someone, the act of putting them into the ground & into a position where there would truly be no coming back. It fired him up as nothing ever had done but still he could not fathom why the concept appealed to him so much.

Buried Alive

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Equal Sentence

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Sam Johnson stared at the letter in his hand:

“Dear Mr. Johnson, How unfortunate that you felt the need to testify against Jimmy in the trial, despite our arrangement. I told you that if Jimmy was convicted, your family would pay the price. Well, this letter is to inform you of what that price will be. We currently have possession of a certain wife of yours named Sarah. You may have noticed she didn’t come home on time. We’re going to keep Sarah for as long as Jimmy is behind bars. According to the judge, that’ll be 16 years. Better hope he gets an early parole. If you go to the police with this, I can absolutely guarantee Sarah will never be seen again. See you in 16 years. Tony”

Equal Sentence

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Sam Johnson stared at the letter in his hand:

The Box

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000

We had done about everything we could think of with Jane. After only 3 years, she had been modified and manipulated in every way imaginable. As I admired her rigid body, listening to her subtle whimpering beneath the inflated bladder stretching her jaws, I couldn’t help but feel sad that I wouldn’t have her to torture any longer. Three years ago, when she had written me with her interest in becoming the ultimate bondage toy, I hadn’t believed someone like her existed. But after many months of conversation, we finally met, and I realized that she was for real. Only 19 years old when she arrived, she was impressive. Only 5'6", she already had massive breasts, measuring a delightful 38D. On such a small frame, they stood out dramatically. She was rather proud of them, wearing a tight t-shirt on our first meeting, with hip hugger shorts and a bare stomach. I was still certain she would back out at the last minute, but she eagerly signed the contract giving her life to me, then drinking the potion I had set out. Within seconds she was asleep.

Traveling Rubberman

Tue, 14 Aug 2007 00:00:00 +0000

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.

Final Farewell

Fri, 03 Aug 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Sometimes it just happens. Passions cool. Personalities drift. Relationships change. Sometimes people just stop loving someone, even when the other still loves them. So it was with us. I still loved Master. But he no longer loved me. Cared for me, yes.

Looked after me still, yes. But the desire, the interest in me was gone. He never had to say it, but it was there, after nearly 10 years this slave no longer could command his interest. Used up. Discarded. And I knew that I could do nothing to change that fact, or even challenge it. After all I was his slave, and if he was no longer needing my submission, then that was his right. But because he still cared for me, and because he knew me so well, he listened, and with out argument agreed to my proposal. Slavery is for life. And we had a contract, to be broken by death only. But this was real, real life. You can’t just sell a slave. You can’t just “snuff” them. That is fantasy, and I have no desire to die. But something was needed, something to denote; this marks the end of that life. It is finished. So I offered. Death without dying, Mourning without grief. Freedom from contract but still in slavery. He agreed. Besides, he said, it would be a great party, a good scene. And a final test of my submission. We made our plans. Gathered our friends. Came the day. It begins simply, My deepest friend Mary, fellow slave, agrees to help. We are in the parlour, to one side of the main room, where already a low murmur of voices rises. I am shaking badly. “Are you sure you want this?” she asks, “ It seems such a risk” I nod. My mouth is too dry to speak. “ Ok, let’s do it” I dress, a full-bodied wedding dress, white and flowing. It has a stiff bodice that squeezes my breasts, lace. White seamed stockings, suspender. No panties, as a slave requires none, ever. Very high, impossibly high heels. I have to lean on the wall. But I won’t be walking far. A veil. I have never married, and briefly regret that I never have. But I quickly dismiss this thought. My life has been one for the rod. A white leather belt is padlocked around my waist. Tight. Today was the 1st day in 10 years I have not been bound in some way; I welcome the belt, welcome back my natural state. Wrist cuffs, white, tight, attaching to the belt at the front. Mary laces a beautiful bunch of carnations about my wrists, they hide my bonds, my hands. Mary fusses. She smiles. “Ready?” Yes. I have no other words. Thank you Mary, and If I never see you again, never forget how you helped me. The gag is a simple white ball gag, it seals my silence. I bite down, oh so used to the feel and taste of the submission it denotes. Mary takes the lead from my Cleopatra collar, and leads me to the chamber. The murmurs grow silent. I stare at my Master, looking deep, but there is no love there, just amusement. I am such a silly slave. I’m sure he can feel the heat I generate. I kneel at his feet. He speaks to the crowd, a short speech, retelling of a slaves training by her master, of her collar, her vow. He explains what today means. So it is finished. Then he turns to me, and addresses me. “Do you Slave accept your fate? Do you place your life into the hands of an unknown one here? Knowing that you are a failed slave, failed in retaining the interest of your master.” I nod. “Then I remove your collar, and consign you to your fate” How I delighted I was the day we had purchased it, when Sax Leather was just a shop - not a symbol of our lifestyle. But thats over now. I cry a small tear as my neck sees daylight for the first time in oh so many years. To lose his love is one thing. To fail as a slave is another. I will understand if nobody feels I am worthy of restoration. I stand. My coffin is startling white. It is not a casket, and it is not opulent. Just a traditional white box, cheaply lined. Only a silk cushion gives it any softness, and they hardly offset the stark white straps that festoon its interior. But the lid is glass. And 2 small hose connections incourougsly break the picture at one end, they disappear into the trolley the coffin rests upon. The banks of flowers surround it, and I know hide the hoses and small fan that will connect to the surface. He nods towards it. Now that the moment has come, I feel afraid. In fantasy it seemed so easy. Now it just induces a terrible freezing of my will. How I wish he would just hug me just once more. But that is finished. Until I (if I ever) wear a mans collar again, I am dead to the world. And it is time for my burial. I step into the coffin, lay down, it squeezes my shoulders, my head rubs the end, and my heels scrape the other. Mary fusses about as I stare sightless, at the ceiling. My dress billows, flows, it rustles as I settle into place. I feel nothing as the straps begin to hold me down, make me as one with my box. Fantasy will not contain real panic. I have ashamed my status enough, I do not intend to let panic, if it comes, to destroy my beauty. Flowers fill the gaps, the scent is overpowering. The lid is lowered; it presses the flowers down, almost touches my chest, sits millimetres from my nose. I hear the sound of the screws tightening the lid into place. The glass is thick, and heavy. It says finality. Abruptly all sound ceases, only that of my breathing fills this box. Confined now maybe forever. I can feel a gentle breeze at my head. Three days the air will last. If I am not rescued by then, not felt worthy of the effort to dig six feet of dirt away, then I will not require anymore. I am a failed slave. The cart moves, wheeled through master’s house. Familiar roofs. I sense our friends following. We enter the outside air; travel across his manicured lawn; the box trembles and wobbles as we make our way across the uneven surface. I tremble with it. The sun beats down, and the glass heats me. I sweat. Reality of what is happening begins to grip me, involuntarily my body rebels. I can go no where, I cannot move, a white vision of lace and flowers, so stark against the dark hole I know we are now parked against. Familiar faces of fellow slaves come into view. They will not look at me, one I see is crying. I feel my coffin lifted, I sense an interruption to the airflow, then it resumes. There is a long pause; I wobble, for a moment I am afraid that I will be dropped. I know that my box is being aligned with rails leading to the bottom, that the discreet hoses are being connected. Master speaks. “When a slave submits her will to him, she becomes his product. To do as he will. I renounce ownership of this slave, and in this ceremony I proclaim the disposal of an unwanted product. However, we bury this product today, in the hope that someone here will think it worth restoration. We bury her in the hope of a restorated life.” I’m lowered into the hole, jerking slightly, descending from light into shadow, heat into cold. My grave will be cold, cold, cold. Bottom. I dug this hole, and made sure that my head will be higher than my feet. It is small comfort. A pause. I look at the square of sky above me. More flowers fall on the glass. I look desperately for my master’s face, but never see it. And now I know for sure. Even this last act, this last submission was not enough for him. I truly am lost, forever. I close my eyes in sorrow. The moment catches me by surprise, I never see the earth fall, just open my eyes to the thunder of the falling dirt. Darkness. Instant darkness, only a glimmer of light towards my right cheek. More noise, and it is gone. Frantically I listen to each load, each one fainter than the last. My heart beats frantically. Now I try to scream, it strangles in my throat. The silence, darkness is complete. My heart beats like a drum. My muscles are tense as solid timber, as solid as the lid above me. I know now I am buried six foot down, a patch of disturbed dirt in an anonymous backyard. Already I feel the stiffness that impossible bondage brings settle into my limbs. I know I am totally, completely held in captivity as I have never been before, a position only one born for bondage can understand, now totally dependant on a stranger to save me. If one ever does. I orgasm. I have made my choice. If I am worthy I will see the light again, if not, then this slaves submission is complete.

Auto Burial Mortuary

Tue, 24 Jul 2007 00:00:00 +0000

This story is only for adults above legal age in the jurisdiction in which you reside. Warning do not try any of this it is dangerous or fatal. This story consists of bondage burial and sex. If these subjects offend you do not read this story.

Carla had just arrived in a mid sized city in the Midwest. She had wanted to get out of the country and off of the farm. She was tired of her nearest neighbor being five miles away. Carla had finished high school and completed a 2 year secretarial at the county branch of the Junior College. She was looking for a job as a secretary. Shortly after she had found an advertisement from a woman wanting to share an apartment with another woman. Carla answered the advertisement. She met the lady who wanted to share her apartment. The lady’s name was Tara. Tara and Carla hit it off immediately. Soon Carla moved into the apartment and was comfortable.

Auto Burial Mortuary

Tue, 24 Jul 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Tomb Talk

Sat, 07 Jul 2007 00:00:00 +0000

When Solene found herself lying on a table, her body wrapped head to toe in bandages, and her eyes about to be wrapped over… that was when she really began to panic. Considering what was coming for her, it was to be expected. After all, being buried alive would be enough to ruin anyone’s day. For Solene, it was no different. To an observer, the question would no doubt be why she was being wrapped up head to toe in body wrappings similar to that of ancient Egyptian mummies.

No More Secrets

Tue, 06 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Bret and I had been together for six years, and loved each other utterly, but I wish he wasn’t so damn nervous. I firmly believe there should be no secrets between lovers, but after a while it became obvious there was something he wasn’t telling me, and he most noticeably dodged the subject when we were talking about our fantasies; often when I would try to steer the conversation, especially during sex, in the direction of our kinky dreams he’d get all self conscious and ashamed and would change the subject.

No More Secrets

Tue, 06 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000

The Graveyard

Tue, 06 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000

This story contains sex and necrophilia. If you are under eighteen or do not like these types of stories, do not read. This is fiction and should be read as such.

Sam walked along the tombstone lime cemetery. He loved to take walks at night among the graves. It was one of the most peaceful places he had found in the city. He also dreamed of one night slipping into the graveyard and digging up a freshly buried young girl and fucking the corpse till he was caught.

The Graveyard

Tue, 06 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000

This story contains sex and necrophilia. If you are under eighteen or do not like these types of stories, do not read. This is fiction and should be read as such.

Diver Buried Alive

Mon, 05 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Just been certified as a diver, I can’t wait to take my first dive in the waters. I went to the local dive shop to outfit myself completely, viking thick rubber drysuit in colour black, a re-breather system, so therefore I can stay underwater longer and quieter, not to disturb the marine life. And the rest of the other dive gear, such as fins, weights, etc. When I got to the beach, it seems pretty dead, not bad for a solo dive, still late in the morning, so I still have the whole afternoon of daylight left.

Diver Buried Alive

Mon, 05 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Nice Sunny Day on the Nude Beach in Jamaica!

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000

It was a nice sunny day on the nude beach in Jamaica. The far end of the beach was not crowded at all, but it was not secluded either. My partner and I were there enjoying the rays. One of the things I loved doing was sitting on the edge of the ocean, letting the waves come up in between my legs, tantalizing me into a bit of mild excitement. As the waves washed up, I kind of let my butt sink into the wet sand just enough so that my member could feel the full impact of the water. To keep me stable my feet were several inches down into the sand. I could have stayed there and enjoyed the gentle stimulation for a long time, but a greater adventure was about to begin.

Nice Sunny Day on the Nude Beach in Jamaica!

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000

The Journey Down

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000

The leaves and twigs rustled as I walked. I felt the cool breeze forming goose bumps on my naked skin as I was led along in the darkness created by my blindfold. Occasionally I stumbled and had a hard time righting myself with my arms duct taped securely up to my elbows behind my back.

“Are you up for playing a fun game?” My mind drifted back to those words she said to me before the hike we had planned.

The Journey Down

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000

“Are you up for playing a fun game?” My mind drifted back to those words she said to me before the hike we had planned.

Buried Love

Tue, 10 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000

My master loves me. That’s what I tell myself. It has become a desperate mantra over and over with each breath. I’m becoming frantic. In spite of everything I know I start to panic. I’m sure that my arms and legs are flexing even if I can’t feel them. As the muscles of my torso tighten it feels like cold snakes spasming over my chest and back. Only nothing happens really. I feel but I don’t move. I’ve never been so immobile.

Buried Love

Tue, 10 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Buried at the Beach

Wed, 13 Sep 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Kate sat on her beach towel, watching as Eric disappeared into the hole he was digging to extract another pile of sand with his hands. Granted, he was on his knees but even so the hole must be pretty deep. The piles of sand surrounding the oblong pit were quite high as well. “So you’re going to bury me in that hole?” she asked him, as if the words had been, “So we’re having turkey sandwiches for lunch?” He popped his head over the rim of the pit, dumped another armful of sand onto a nearby pile. “Only if you’ll let me,” he told her before diving back down. She’d thought about her last, brief encounter under the sand. It was a little hole that she could lie down in and the sides were only just higher than her body was deep. She remembered how heavy the sand felt, even on her feet, as he shoved the piles on top of her toes. She’d expected it to be light, but by the time he was finished, it felt as if someone was lying on top of her. In fact, it felt so much like the weight of a person that she involuntarily started wiggling and, she admitted, even gently gyrating her pelvis. Certainly enjoyable and she was looking forward to trying it again, though it looked a bit like Eric was getting out of hand. “You could kill me in there!” she exclaimed, rising from her place on the towel and staring down at her eventual resting place. It was as long as she was tall, and almost two feet down at its deepest. “I won’t”, he quipped and hopped out, brushing his hands on his swimsuit. He flashed a smile. “Ready?” A half grin and a toss of her long hair, coupled with a look that clearly stated this was all very dubious but yes I’ll do it, Kate stepped gingerly into the pit. She turned around in it, trying to find a way to sit down without collapsing the whole thing on top of her. Eventually she just squatted on her haunches, then dropped quite unceremoniously onto her buttocks. She put her feet out in front of her, scooted down until she could touch the far wall with the balls of her feet, and slowly laid back. And sat right back up. “This is way too deep.” Even sitting up, the piles of sand were well over her head. Heck, the top edge of the walls were even with her chin. The sounds of the ocean waves were dull thuds and she could truly see only the piles of sand and blue sky as her eyes moved around the hole. It was darker down there too…peaceful in an odd way with everything muted and no other people visible. Breaking her train of thought, a smallish object landed in her lap. “Huh,” she muttered, touching it with an interest seemingly more profound than her expletive. “Where’d you find one of these?” It was, of course, a vibrator. Small compared to hers at home, but it had inviting curves and her mind wandered away from the depth of the pit in which she was currently sitting. “Thought it might be useful,” Eric told her, kneeling next to one of the large piles of sand. “So I’ll ask again. Are you ready?” Her answer was to slowly lean back. Happily, she noticed, there was a definite upward slant from her lower back to the rim of the hole so she wasn’t just laying completely horizontal. The sides of the hole, however, were still above her head and the piles seemed impossibly high. She was certain that there would be nothing to see at all of her, if Eric used all the sand. She placed, as casually as possible, her hands over her bikini bottoms. When Eric gave her a knowing grin, she merely replied, “Hey, you gave it to me,” and looked forward. Kate inhaled deeply and let out a shuddering breath. “Ok. Ready and willing.” Eric disappeared behind one of the larger piles by her legs. All of a sudden, the pile shifted from its seat above her feet, and fell with a WHUMP! onto her shins. Another quick shove and there was a slope from her knees up to the top of the pit by her toes. “Heavy,” she mumbled, wiggling her toes buried under 2 feet of sand. She couldn’t flex her feet much, as the sand would pack down as she did. She thought that, right now, she’d be able to bend her knees and extricate herself without a problem. And then the next pile of sand collapsed on top of her thighs, and all thoughts of escape exited her mind. As the rivulets flowed over her legs, her fingers flashed under the oncoming flow of beach, making sure her toy didn’t get trapped too far from where it would be of use. Now there was a slope of heavy, damp sand covering her left leg and most of her right. She saw Eric’s head appear briefly over the top of one of the piles, and again a WHUMP! as her lower body completely disappeared under two feet of sand. She groaned with the weight of it on her legs, realizing quickly that she couldn’t bend her knees or even spread her legs. She felt around between them, and was thankful there was enough space to use the vibrator when the time came. “It’s going to start getting heavy. Let me know if it’s too much.” Eric’s voice was muted by the remaining sand he was kneeling behind. “It’s already hea….” she began, but was abruptly knocked out of breath as a tidal wave of sand crashed onto her belly and chest. It was like he’d taken the whole pile above her right side and pushed it all down at once. The sand flowed over her, almost shoving her against the far wall before coming to rest, covering all but her left arm. “Oof….that’s a lot of sand,” was a whisper as she strove to get her breath back. Just as she was taking a deep breath, WHUMP! the piles on her other side swamped her, meeting the slope of the other until a small valley whose base was likely some foot above her breasts resided in front of her. Despite the dip in the middle, she found herself looking *up* at the sand in front of her. It sprinkled down into the hollow at the base of her throat; the only parts of her exposed were her shoulders, neck and head and they were at the bottom of a pit themselves. Eric’s face appeared in front of her, and even though he was kneeling and looking down, he was still well above her. She knew that the sand directly in front of her wasn’t even with the sides. Her breathing was labored, the weight of the sand never became any less, never shifted. More than that, the weight on the space between her legs was making her wet and her breath come even harder. She brushed her mound with her fingers and it sent a shock through her body and she involuntarily writhed in place. To Eric, it looked like a brief shake of her shoulders. “Everything ok?” he asked, but she could tell that her answer wasn’t going to stop him from pushing more sand atop her. She stroked herself again at the thought of being trapped, which she definitely was, and another shudder struck her. She resisted the urge to switch the vibrator on immediately. She wanted more sand. “Yes,” she moaned, and with her inflection she sounded her need. She wanted this, she wanted to be under the sand’s weight, a large unrelenting lover pressed against her as she writhed for escape, desiring freedom, but desiring to be trapped more. Eric shoved sand onto her chest, apparently not close to using all the piles on her sides, and little rivers flowed down around her shoulders and neck. More sand on her breasts, and the slope in front of her came closer to her neck. Soon, she felt her shoulders were covered, though not deeply, and all that could be seen of her was her neck, face, and hair. “Here comes the side by your head, so you might want to close your mouth and eyes, just in case it splashes.” And Kate did so without really considering what that meant, just knowing she wanted to be buried as deeply as possible. It was hopelessly erotic, and underneath the sand her hips were swaying as much as she could force them to. And when that pile of sand came around the right side of her head, it was so much that she could feel it on top of her head as well, covering her ear and shoulder deeply. It piled up against the slope in front of her and she reflexively tried to tilt her head back as the sand swept over her neck and covered her chin. She couldn’t turn her head in that direction, or she’d get a face full of sand. She heard movement to her left and again squinted her lips and eyelids shut as the same thing occurred over there. The pile of sand fell over the edge of the pit and slid around her head, framing her face and coming to rest just under her bottom lip. She could feel little clumps of sand lying against her cheeks and could see the blur of sand close to her eyes in her peripheral vision. She could still hear, even with the mounds covering her ears, but it was like a cross between having your hands over your ears and being underwater. She couldn’t feel his weight as deeply as she was buried, but she could hear the pounding of Eric’s knees as he shifted around on the sand, doing his best to bury everything but her face as deeply as possible. Kate couldn’t move at all. She could wiggle her toes and she could move her hands and fingers slightly. She was afraid to turn her head, lest she collapse the sand around her face and truly be buried alive. Breathing was difficult, as if literally Eric was lying across all parts of her body. Her legs throbbed from the bloodflow being compressed. From the surface, there was no motion on the sand whatsoever…she was too deep for her body’s minor movements to have any effect. If someone were to peer down, they’d see the top of Kate’s head, her forehead, eyes, tops of her cheeks. Then the sand angled down under her cheekbones, coming to rest evenly at the bottom where she’d nestled in to make a small divet under her chin. Then the sand sloped steeply in front of her face to the height of her head. In effect, leaving her pretty features at the bottom of a pit. “How does it feel?” Eric asked her, looking down the slope. Kate raised her eyes, but if she could she didn’t dare move her head upwards. She could tell he knew it was hard for her to get a breath. “Good,” she muttered. “Is that all?” The question, even to her, seemed more like a plea for more, to not let the process end. “Of course not,” he surprised her by saying. “But if you haven’t already, you should try your toy.” She’d almost forgotten about the vibrator. With sand being everywhere, pressing down and against her, the small device was almost unfelt in her fingers. Subconsciously, she must have realized losing it underneath the weight might be an issue, because it was situated within easy reach of where it wanted to be. She shifted it over, and was even able to find enough give in the sand, likely from thrusting against it for the past few minutes, to slip it under the edge of her bikini. Even before she turned it on, the direct pressure on her clitoris made her gasp. “Working, then?” asked Eric. “Not yet…” she replied quietly, lost in sensation. Eric just raised an eyebrow and stepped from view. She found the switch with her middle finger and with a gentle push, the vibrations began. With an involuntary shock, her entire body tried to bounce, unsuccessfully of course. “Oh my god,” she moaned and her lips parted and eyes closed in a visage of growing passion. She pressed more firmly with her toy and her hips were able to undulate just the slightest bit. A whimper came from her and her eyes squinted shut briefly. They flashed open as she felt grains of sand bounce against her chin. She couldn’t see over the slope, but a river of fine, dry, white sand was slowly pouring down into the hole where her face was exposed. It wasn’t completely constant, so she knew it was Eric causing her to slowly be buried. “Yes,” she said, forcing herself to be audible despite her ever more ragged breathing. As her fingers caressed her moist lower lips and the vibrator continued to drive her upwards, the sand came down, sweeping around her chin, slowly rising towards her still parted lips. Her fingertips slid over her mound, grainy pieces of sand making it like fingernails against her vagina. She began to pulse and her hips became more demanding…they needed to move, to rock, to twist…but they could barely move a hair. Her body frozen beneath the weight of the sand, she forced the vibrator to a new position and her mouth opened wider in a silent moan. The sand was at her lips… she reflexively closed her mouth, but her fingers wouldn’t stop and breathing was so labored that she had to open her lips a little. Sand, again dry and light, slid in from the sides, the flows meeting in the middle at her lower lip. As moist as her lips were, the sand clung to the bottom and when she gave a gentle spit of air, it was only to make a brief pocket in front of her mouth. More sand came to fill that space, and then she did close her mouth as more sand from the front flowed down. She felt the granules hit her lower lip directly and start to surround her face. She was breathing deeply through her nose, trying ineffectively to bring her head back just a bit to free her mouth.

Buried at the Beach

Wed, 13 Sep 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Cindy's Revenge

Sat, 02 Sep 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Cindy’s Revenge is a sequel based on the characters used in Beauty in Repose by Evil-Dolly

I’d known the day for Cindy’s burial was not that far away by the fact her grave next to mine had now been fully dug out. The shiny scarlet coffin prepared and her headstone, currently and conveniently covered by a drape had been placed at the head of the shallow pit Harriet had dug to my left. Now there would be four of us in there. Carrie, Jessica, myself. That’s Charlotte by the way…glad I can still remember my name and then her. I’d said before in a morbid sense I was looking forward to watch her swan into the shed in her wedding gown looking so perfect…like me. Be gently coaxed into her coffin…like me. Then suffer the awful shattering truth as the game was played out to its bitter end…like me.

Cindy's Revenge

Sat, 02 Sep 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Cindy’s Revenge is a sequel based on the characters used in Beauty in Repose by Evil-Dolly

Beauty's Rescue

Wed, 30 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Beauty’s Rescue is a sequel based on the characters in Beauty in Repose

It had been three months since Cindy had joined the others entombed under the garden. She, like the others, had kind of gotten used to being buried, sort of. She loved to watch their “Catherine,” funny, she never thought she would be so totally dependent on another person, especially not a woman. She had loved being her lover, making love on the bed. Now she knew that their Catherine was out looking for another girl. Another girl to add to her growing collection of girls, it seemed. Cindy could sometimes look at the four headstones, all in a row, wonder if the other girls were still down there, still quite alive. She was not sure that anything was true any more. The only thing she truly missed was her locket, she had not worn it the day she was buried. It must still be on the bedside table. Her great-grandmother’s beautiful gold locket, with the picture of her parents in it. She could see it on the table if she looked hard enough in the view of the bedroom.

Beauty's Rescue

Wed, 30 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Beauty’s Rescue is a sequel based on the characters in Beauty in Repose

The Letter

Wed, 30 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

You walk into the hardware store – that great cavern of delights, where so many seemingly innocent every day items have for you that second, darker, more exciting use. You told your partner that you were “going to get that mirror” you had been meaning to buy for the last – well long time. But it’s an excuse. He knows it, you know it, its all part of the elaborate ritual that has developed over the time between you. Oh, don’t get us wrong – there is no secrets between you, none but the deepest and darkest fantasies not shared and explored – and played with. But this one has only been flirted with, teased gently into the light, toyed with, and then put away again – too deep, too intense – too scary. Too selfish But the moment you smile at the attendant at the door you know where you are going to be led, the tightening knot of excitement in your stomach, the warmth gathering in your loins is going to lead you to that special isle as surely as honey attracts a bee. And you will be stuck there. You walk to that isle, sure in your mind that every single person that you pass can see straight into your mind, can discern what you want to do with those seemingly innocent items stacked there on the shelf. Uses you only half want to acknowledge yourself, uses that you have to acknowledge. Because they make you so hot just imagining them being used on you. You stare at the shelf, lost in, thought? No, lost in a blankness, transfixed by the piles of tape in front of you, the piles of “painting supplies”. Painting is furthermost from your mind. Brown packaging tape shiny, thin, non stretch, and smelling so …. Rolls of cloth duct tape, the tuff stuff, thick, heavy, sticky, in escape able….. And the Insulating tape – dark, dark, black as night, so shiny, so smooth, so….. Seductive Every time you come into this store you pass down this isle – stare at the rolls, and dream , and wish, and then dismiss from your mind. For a start they are soooooooooo expensive, and the budget is tight. And he was only half joking when… “ if you bought home that much tape I’d be forced to use it all, all at once young lady!” But now you have the money – the windfall burning in your pocket. And the fantasy burns so bright “ if I bought home that much tape –I could get him to*…**”* No, you don’t want to confront that yet, yet the excitement that makes your very limbs ache tells you that if you reach out to those piles now , if you actually purchase the instruments of your deepest dark –IT WOULD HAPPEN. He loved you enough to ensure that. And it was why you loved him –because you know he knows you. And maybe, he wants it too. Do you feel guilty as you sweep the rolls, and rolls of tape into the large plastic shopping basket, the basket getting heavier and heavier. Do you have second thoughts as the money –money that could be used so much more usefully gets handed across. No, you only feel a mind filling euphoria, you are going to do it, really do it. You almost wish the young girl at the checkout could guess what the tape is for , so that you can boast – I dare, I dare to do what my logic screams not to. You race home, prizes rolling gleefully about in the boot, soon it will happen. Lust has no logic Maybe you should think about this , before you take the plunge. But you don’t think this, you are born this. Age 5, wrapping yourself into a tight sausage in your bed sheets. Age 11, while the rest of the kids taped each others pencil cases into masses of sticky tape –you let them tape your fingers and hands. Age 17, and that 1st DVD – curse of the mummies tomb. And then he came along… No, no need to analyse, just a crushing need to do it. He smiles that wicked grin as you enter the room –your play room. He is aware as you of those betraying nipples, pointy and hard, of your scent, of your excitement. “As we agreed?” “As we agreed –no going back” You slide into the white disposable overalls, the cotton feel light and soft on your skin. The zip is loud in the silence, competing with your hard breathing. The suit looks totally out of place, dumpy, ill fitting. But you know that the tape sticks too it with an unforgiving grip, the cotton absorbs sweat, and it allows no sliding of the arms at all. No going back means no going back A few, impatient moments, as he fiddles with the packaging tape dispenser. You stare transfixed again at the instrument of your imprisonment –how can something so slim, so thin hold you so well? It begins. You lift your arms –and strips are applied around the wrists. You drop them , and the tape attaches the wrists to your hips. He is busy now, work man like, wrapping a parcel, maybe for postage, maybe for storage. It does not matter, he will be very, very thorough. You have played this game before –but not too deep, not as deep as this. You both know what to do. The tape is applied just above the breasts, and you begin to turn on the spot, the tape firmly descending down the body as you provide the resistance to pull it off the roll. You are the instrument of your own capture. Your breasts feel strange, compressed, flattened as the tape descends, further down, further down. Submission frequently means actually in control You occasionally stop, its hard not to get giddy. Strange how much you actually control this surrendering of control. Its an illusion. The moment you said “no going back” you were lost. Were found. Isn’t this what its really about? Finding yourself?

The Letter

Wed, 30 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Back to the Trashcan

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

I had thought of everything, I was very thorough in my preparations. The dumpster would be delivered on Thursday afternoon, and would stay till Wednesday evening, around 3:00-4:00pm. I would have time to play my games inside the dumpster all that time. I had gone to the store and gotten 55 gallon trashcan liners, the heavy reinforced ones, two boxes. My house was full of old things to throw out, but I took the last four months looking for garbage that I could stuff into the dumpster and not get hurt by.

Fantasies Fulfilled

Sun, 02 Jul 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Desmond Hamilton was fairly wealthy. Not quite a millionaire, but well on the way to it. He had a lovely wife, Nichole, a nice house, a Jaguar car. What more could you want? But Desmond did. Desmond was having an affair with his secretary, Natasha.

Nichole was straight laced. She would not give Desmond the thrills he was seeking. Hence he had the affairs. He wanted someone to represent him during the day, a wife in the evening and a whore at night. Nichole was no whore! She was the epitome of class. She was tall, blonde, blue eyed and extremely well spoken.

Who Knew?

Tue, 27 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Who knew? (alternate version)

Who knew that such a trivial offense would earn you this, one of the worst, most horrible types of punishment imaginable?

Who knew that doing something so small, so utterly small and insignificant could earn you the wrath of your master?

Who knew indeed?

Those were the thoughts that raced through your head that day as you sat in your cell, the door shut and locked, with those handcuffs locked around your wrists. Earlier in life those cuffs were a source of pleasure, of fun and excitement. Now they were grim restraints.

Who Knew?

Tue, 27 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Who knew? (alternate version)

Who knew that such a trivial offense would earn you this, one of the worst, most horrible types of punishment imaginable?

Who knew that doing something so small, so utterly small and insignificant could earn you the wrath of your master?

Who knew indeed?

Who Knew?

Tue, 27 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Who knew that such a trivial offense would earn you this, the worst, most horrible type of punishment imaginable?

Who knew that doing something so small, so utterly small and insignificant could earn you the wrath of your master?

Who knew indeed?

Who Knew? (Alternate Version)

Tue, 27 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Who knew that such a trivial offense would earn you this, one of the worst, most horrible types of punishment imaginable?

Who knew that doing something so small, so utterly small and insignificant could earn you the wrath of your master?

Who knew indeed?

Fantasies Fulfilled

Tue, 30 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Cheap Holiday's are Rubbish

Wed, 10 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000

“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!”

The Party

Wed, 10 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000

The race was on to find Steve. They had put him somewhere and forgotten where they put him. They had to find him before something terrible happened to him! Everyone was driving flat out in their cars to find him.

The party started well enough, like all parties. Music lots of drinks and food and plenty of dancing going on.

Everyone was happy. They had always had a pleasant evening at these parties. They each took it in turn to hold the parties. This time it was Steve Collins turn to hold the party. He had always been good for a laugh. So had everybody else. He loved fancy dress parties. His favourite was the vicars and tarts and the schooldays themes.

The Party

Wed, 10 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000

The party started well enough, like all parties. Music lots of drinks and food and plenty of dancing going on.

The Party

Wed, 10 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000

(Also appears in Buried stories section)

The party started well enough, like all parties. Music lots of drinks and food and plenty of dancing going on.

Girls Gone Kinky

Tue, 02 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000

“Girls Gone Kinky” the radio announcer said.

“Tomorrow night at the Johnson warehouse, ‘Girls gone Kinky’ will be shooting their Halloween edition. Free admission to girls in costumes. Door open at 6:00 Happy hour all night long. Cash awards to the lucky girls chosen to be in the video.”

Sue turned off the car radio and thought about attending the out of season event. It was after all spring break weekend and she had not done anything wild all week or even semester. She felt it was time she cut loose. Halloween in March sounded like the perfect event and a shot at some money wouldn’t be all bad either.

My Final Resting Place

Tue, 02 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Special thanks to the members of the Gromet’s plaza, who gave me the inspiration and drive to write this story, especially the likes of Jenny and Toran

It all started 3 years ago, when a group of us met up, and decided to start a game, a sex game of warped proportions between our group. Each round was 6 months long, and usually involved a modification of some sort, and recently the stakes had been getting higher. My name was pulled out of the hat. My head started to spin. My partner started to think, as the cogs in her head started to turn. At that point, I knew mine was going to top it all.

My Final Resting Place

Tue, 02 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000

2006 Shadowplay Imaging Mummification Story Contest Entrant

Special thanks to the members of the Gromet’s plaza, who gave me the inspiration and drive to write this story, especially the likes of Jenny and Toran

My Final Resting Place

Tue, 02 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Special thanks to the members of the Gromet’s plaza, who gave me the inspiration and drive to write this story, especially the likes of Jenny and Toran

The Letter

Tue, 02 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000

2006 Shadowplay Imaging Mummification Story Contest Entrant

You walk into the hardware store

that great cavern of delights, where so many seemingly innocent every day items have for you that second, darker, more exciting use.

You told your partner that you were “going to get that mirror” you had been meaning to buy for the last -well long time. But it’s an excuse. He knows it, you know it, its all part of the elaborate ritual that has developed over the time between you.

Belinda's Garbage Run

Fri, 31 Mar 2006 00:00:00 +0000

It must have been about seven thirty in the morning when she walked out the door wearing her wetsuit, it clung to her lean body like a second skin keeping her warm in the September sun. She walked across the parking lot of her apartment complex, past her car, past the trees and the walkway. She then stopped and opened a door on the Dumpster, and tried to push her bag of trash into it. It was near full and reluctant to take it, but she persisted.

Final Weekend

Mon, 20 Mar 2006 00:00:00 +0000

They had diagnosed the cancer in June. Unfortunately by that point it was too late, operation could only reduce the tumour, and by November Joanne and her husband Geoff had to face the news that she had mere months left to live.

Joanne and Geoff had been together for eight years. They fell in love while both at university and married soon after graduation. In the intervening years they had had a happy if childless marriage, they had bought a cottage in the country from which they both commuted into town, where they both held good jobs. But the news of Joanne’s impending demise had shattered their world to its foundations.

Final Weekend

Mon, 20 Mar 2006 00:00:00 +0000

The Funeral

Mon, 20 Mar 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Kate is a beautiful thirty year old woman. Kate’s friends envied her long blonde hair. Everyone knew Kate as a fun, life loving woman. What they did not know about were her dark desires. Kate’s fantasy revolved around death. She married a mortician so that she could be around death all of the time.

Kate would be at work with her husband and orgasm from seeing the dead bodies in the caskets. She did not have a desire to have sex with the dead. Kate’s fantasies was to be one of the dead. Kate’s husband, Mark, knew about these fantasies. After work they would climb into a casket and have sex. Kate even had Mark bring a casket home for her pleasure. When Mark was away on business Kate would sleep in the coffin. She would lay in the coffin, playing with her pussy, thinking about dying.

The Funeral

Mon, 20 Mar 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Hi there!

Thu, 02 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Special thanks to the members of the Gromet’s plaza forum, who helped edit this story.

Oh, hello there! Who am I you ask? Oh, no one in particular. My name’s not important, considering where I am right now. Where am I you might ask? Well, that’s simple. I’m currently ten feet underground, lying inside a casket. Oh, and I should also mention that i’m mummified from head to toe in four layers of white bandages. What am I doing down here? Oh my, what a story. Best to go back to the beginning… For the past five years of my life, I’ve…i’m sorry, was, a slave to the most wonderful man i’ve ever met. I was homeless at the time and down on my luck.

Hi there!

Thu, 02 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Special thanks to the members of the Gromet’s plaza forum, who helped edit this story.

Hi There!

Thu, 02 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Special thanks to the members of the Gromet’s plaza forum, who helped edit this story.

Oh, hello there! Who am I you ask? Oh, no one in particular. My name’s not important, considering where I am right now. Where am I you might ask? Well, that’s simple. I’m currently ten feet underground, lying inside a casket. Oh, and I should also mention that i’m mummified from head to toe in four layers of white bandages. What am I doing down here? Oh my, what a story. Best to go back to the beginning… For the past five years of my life, I’ve… I’m sorry, was, a slave to the most wonderful man i’ve ever met. I was homeless at the time and down on my luck.

Buried

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Buried

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

The basement was cool and well lit. There were no dark corners sucking in the available illumination. She stood on a rug by a wall, the only softness in the expanse of white concrete. On the opposite wall was a low table with a dark ovoid shape resting on top of it. She undid the dressing gown, took it off and placed it on the floor. There was a black garment drooping limply from a hangar on a mobile rail next to the table. On the floor beside her was a container of talcum powder. She picked it up and showered her body in the white cascading substance which fell gently onto her body and obscured the pattern of the rug beneath her bare feet.

Buried

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Buried Alive

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

This story is fiction. It has nothing to do with anyone living or dead. This story contains sex and consensual snuff. Please do not read if you are under eighteen or don’t like these kind of stories.

I lay in the bed playing with my pussy as I ran my favorite fantasy through my mind. I saw a movie about a woman being buried alive when I was a teenager. Every since then I have had this fantasy about me being the one laying in the shallow grave with dirt being dropped on my body. When we would play on the beach and cover each other with sand I would come in my bathing suit. Remembering the embarrassment when I would be uncovered from the sand and stand, there would be sand sticking to my wet crotch. Now all I had was fantasies. My husband and I were getting a divorce. I had always been good to people and was not sure what I had done to make him hate me so much. Maybe I was not good enough in bed or maybe I bitched too much. What ever the reason I knew he would kill me if he could get away with it. The only thing left in my life was my fantasy and it was one I could not live out.

Buried Alive

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

The Machine - Model 2a

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Prologue: I read the story of “The Machine” written by NaughtyLittleGirl here on this website about a girl name Sharon that got a huge mysterious package from a Mister X. Which turns out to be a device called the X-FANTASY-VII which to her surprise when she tries it out is a specialized self-mummification computerized unit that puts a person in total mummification for the submissive and sealing inside a metal casket for a week unable to move or do anything. I figured that there should be some more stories of this X-FANTASY-VII Unit and I sure there would be people that would order special modifications for their usage or whatever. This is a story of one that I created based on the original story of “The Machine” . -=O=-

Total Enclosure

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Both Kerry and Sara were into bondage in a big way, both were very fond of mummification bondage. The girls had planed to have a bondage session this coming weekend and Kerry was going to organize it. As Kerry was the most experienced in bondage out of the two lovers she usually took the dominate role, she had always said it was in her nature anyway and loved to see what positions she could put Sara into. The girls had been experimenting with extreme encasement and where running out of new things to try, Kerry was forced to search the web to find some new techniques and ideas - this is when she struck on an ingenious plan to beat all previous bondage and mummification sessions she would call it TOTAL ENCLOSURE.

Total Enclosure

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Spoiled Meat

Tue, 20 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Walking out the door I saw the giant trashcan sitting out under the carport. Big black and brand new, no trash had yet gone inside of it. Thinking about it excited me. My girlfriend knew of all my fetishes surrounding bondage- but I don’t think I have ever told her of my deepest desires surrounding trash.

Today was Thanksgiving, and we were going out to meet with family. We had cooked up a storm, and all the trash has been building up in the kitchen. It seemed a little funny to me that she had not taken it out - rather she purposefully placed it to the side of the door, staging it for some reason. We packed all the food, and loaded the car to go out for a family feast at her mother’s house.

A Final Farewell

Sat, 03 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Entry from the S(A)X leather Bondage Story competition 2005

Sometimes it just happens

Passions cool

Personalities drift

Relationships change

Sometimes people just stop loving someone, even when the other still loves them

So it was with us

I still loved Master. But he no longer loved me.

Cared for me, yes.

Looked after me still, yes.

But the desire, the interest in me was gone. He never had to say it, but it was there, after nearly 10 years this slave no longer could command his interest.

Final Farewell

Sat, 03 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Home Sweet Dumpster

Sun, 20 Nov 2005 00:00:00 +0000

(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.

Curse Reversed

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 00:00:00 +0000

This isn’t another story about how the Boston Red Sox finally won the world - series after 86 years. Although that might be one of the greatest feats in modern history, what happened to me that night will live in my memories for as long as the most seasoned Red Sox fan. Now it is true that I am Boston area born and raised, so I was pretty excited to learn that the boys were headed for something special. I had been paying pretty close attention to the play-off games, actually watching most of them either at home, or at work. But, there was something else I had my eyes on at that particular time. Many of you might have read, “My night in the dumpster.” Well, what I had my eyes on was that same dumpster. I had scoped it out about 2 nights before, and it was getting close to being about half full.

Angelina

Tue, 01 Nov 2005 00:00:00 +0000

This is how it felt to be Angela.

You were the center of his life, the sunshine in his universe. You were what he lived for. For you, his love and care had no end.

And for you, the feelings were the same. You felt so loyal, so loving to your spouse, the man you had shared your life with for the past six years. Your love was an endless spring that would never dry up.

Love Through The Ages

Mon, 10 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Love through the ages - Part One Based on an original idea by Wrappers Delight

I watch as my princess takes a stroll in the palace gardens. Her beautiful golden hair flowing onto her white gown as she soundlessly walks over the marble. I watch her mesmerizing form from here in the palace. I cannot join her. Even though I am a priestess, my princess is my superior, and I have no right to join her. But my love for her is not diminished by this cruel fact. She is the one whom I protect from the evil spirits of the world. She barely knows of my existence, having seen me only a few times during her young life. At age twenty-five, she is still a child in my eyes, one who needs protection from the harsh world that would rob her of her innocence. And I am the one who will do that.

Love Through The Ages 2

Mon, 10 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part two

Love through the ages - Part Three Based on an original idea by Wrappers Delight

Moss continued onwards down the tunnel, her small flashlight lighting the way. This tunnel was larger then the one she had been crawling through only minutes ago with Jan. She had to pause a moment to wipe the tears that gently ran down her cheek. Looking up, she continued onwards down the tunnel. It had to come out somewhere. She tried to think about what to do after that. This whole operation had gone completely out of control.

Love Through The Ages 2

Mon, 10 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part one

Love through the ages - Part Two Based on an original idea by Wrappers Delight

Egypt, 2006

Darkness Silence Peace Serenity I live

The sun shone down on the pyramids on the Gaza strip. The Nile River flowed a good distance away from the archeology team that had set up camp near the pyramids. The camp was busy as the team members quickly and professionally attended to their tasks. Equipment was gathered, helmets put on, flashlights charged. All currently known information about the pyramids and what lied beneath them was on a folding table under a tent.

Bound for Trouble

Thu, 30 Oct 2003 00:00:00 +0000

It was Monday morning and my husband was preparing for a business trip away interstate, he’d be away for the week returning on Friday afternoon. We’d spent the weekend tying each other up and exploring each other’s body with our mouths and to our great delight we had enjoyed several orgasms each over the weekend, finding new and different ways of binding each other. Now Monday morning beckoned and as he prepared himself I busied myself in the kitchen with breakfast and after a hurried meal he left for the airport promising that we would have a very special time next weekend as it was the anniversary of our first bondage session over 3 years ago.

Jenny's Delight

Fri, 05 Sep 2003 00:00:00 +0000

After an evening at home entertaining, Jenny discovers the joys of mummification, but gets more than she bargained for when things start to go wrong…

Part 1: Jenny’s Introduction

Hi, my name’s Jenny and my introduction to the joys of mummification bondage started when my husband, John invited his friend Mike over for the evening. We’d had a few drinks and talked a lot, mostly about Mike and his recent marriage break-up. He kept saying that his wife, Sally had changed but wouldn’t go into any details. We had a few more drinks and decided to go inside and watch a video. While I got some food together, John sorted out the video we were going to see, grabbing some nibbles I walked into the lounge and placed the food down on the coffee table in front of Mike. John then turned the video on and we watched the film, it wasn’t has good as we’d thought it would be, so we decided to change it.

Do you want to Continue?

Tue, 25 Jun 2002 00:00:00 +0000

It’s the look in his eyes that sends a shiver down her spine. The intensity. She stands naked before him, the cool and dank air of the burial chamber he’s made just for her drawing gooseflesh on her skin. Dawn and Teri, Toran’s two loyal servants, barely notice her as they scurry around her making final preparations for her burial. Sent to Egypt last winter to undergo intensive training in the rituals and procedures required to completely and authentically mummify her and bury her in her custom made sarcophagus, both girls seem to assume the focus and aloofness of the high priestesses they now represent.

The Machine: Model 2-A Part2

Fri, 01 Mar 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Authors Note: fg_1977@hotmail created a story based on ‘The Machine’ by NaughtyLittleGirl. This story is a continuation of fg_1977’s story: The Machine: Model-2A. -=O=- When we left off, Marie had been lent her bosses (Mr. Brackton) private Mansion up in Maine for the summer. It was quiet and peaceful there. While there she found a strange machine in the basement, and decided to try it out, and would up entombed for life, buried on the property somewhere, with absolutely no one knowing what happened to her.

The Machine: Model-2A

Wed, 16 Jan 2002 00:00:00 +0000

The Machine: Model-2A or Marie’s LONG STAY at the Boss’s Mansion

Prologue: I read the story of “The Machine” written by NaughtyLittleGirl here on this website about a girl name Sharon that got a huge mysterious package from a Master X. Which turns out to be a device called the X-FANTASY-VII which to her surprise when she tries it out is a specialized self-mummification computerized unit that puts a person in total mummification for the submissive and sealing inside a metal casket for a week unable to move or do anything. I figured that there should be some more stories of this X-FANTASY-VII Unit and I sure there would be people that would order special modifications for their usage or whatever. This is a story of one that I created based on the original story of “The Machine” .

The Machine: Model-2A

Wed, 16 Jan 2002 00:00:00 +0000

The Machine: Model-2A or Marie’s LONG STAY at the Boss’s Mansion

Beauty in Repose

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said to me.

I didn’t open my eyes, but I smiled and stretched on the expensive sheets, making a happy kitty-cat noise. I had slept well–as I always did, in her bed–but I was so perfectly comfortable that I just didn’t want to get up. I could smell her perfume. She waited patiently for me to rouse myself. She was always so good to me. She lifted my arm and kissed the back of my hand. I finally opened my eyes to see her sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at me. I had felt her get up some time earlier, but she was still wearing her lavender silk nightgown. She always looked so well made up. I don’t think I had ever even seen her without makeup on. I guess that was just how she was brought up. It wouldn’t have mattered to me if she didn’t look like some retro icon of femininity. I would have loved her, anyway.

Beauty in Repose

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said to me.

Britney’s Bagging

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

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's Mud Bath Weekend

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter One

Ever Increasing Bondage

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The notion of being tied up had always held a strange fascination for Lauren, although until now her curiosity had lain dormant within her. Now, however, when the hint of an opportunity to actually participate arose, something stirred within her & she found herself desperately hoping that she was going to be able to experience firsthand something that had so far been merely a flight into fantasy.

The nineteen year old slim, attractive brunette was staying the weekend at the home of two of her old school friends, Jade & Jasmine. Their parents were away for a few days, so the identical twins had invited Lauren to stay over until Monday at their house in the country. Not so much a house really, as a small mansion, with old creaking stairs, rambling corridors, cellars, an attic, & more rooms than Lauren had ever bothered to count. The house was set in several acres of its own grounds & boasted an orchard & a walled garden. Reached only by a long driveway from the road, the idyllic setting was peaceful, isolated & secluded.

Ever Increasing Bondage 4

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Ever Increasing Bondage 3)

Part 4

A shiver surged up Lauren’s spine. But in stark contrast to the warm jolts of pleasure that had been coursing through her not much more than an hour ago, this shudder brought with it an icy chill and was born out of gut-wrenching fear. And if the nervous vibes given off by Jade and Jasmine were anything to go by, as they squirmed against their bonds in the tightly compacted space in which all three were trapped, it seemed that they too were experiencing the same levels of dread as their co-captive.

Ever Increasing Bondage 5

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(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.

Family Ties

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Kelly and her mother were having a playful argument in the kitchen when Uncle Sylvester walked in, living alone and next door, Sylvester would enter without warning, but he was such a kind and gentile man the family was always glad to see him, despite his oddness.

“What’s all this then,” Sylvester said in his completely unidentifiable accent.

“Uncle Sy” the women said in unison.

“One at a time ladies,” said Sy, as he was called by the family, “why don’t you start Kelly.”

Home Sweet Dumpster

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

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!!

Jesse in Jeopardy

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Publicity Stunt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The full page ad in the Sunday news paper was sure to get attention.

Grand opening Aladdin’s Market! Exotic foods and merchandise from the Middle East.

In conjunction with Saturday’s Solar Eclipse, Come and see an Egyptian princess mummified and buried alive as a sacrifice to Ra the Sun God. If the sacrifice works and the sun does return, join us for the street dance featuring Joe and the pharaohs! Come one and all and rock like an Egyptian. Anyone coming dressed as King Tut will get a 15% discount on their first purchase!

Subterranean Sally

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Part One

Subterranean Sally 3

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Subterranean Sally)

Part Three

The Consultants 4.18

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Consultants 4.17)

Part 4: Chapter 18

Gwyneth was in the study seated in front of a professional video player and monitor. From time to time she stopped the tape, shuttling back and forth a few frames to find exactly what she wanted then pressing a key of the computer Charles had set up for her to garb them as a permanent record for later enhancement and study. The tapes she was watching so intently had been obtained by Amber, courtesy of her rapidly widening circle of television contacts, both on and off the set. Together they covered almost every race in which Sarah Turnbull had entered a horse.

The Last Day of Her 29th Year

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The Last Day of Her 29th Year Part 2: The Death of Doctor Vader

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Last Day of Her 29th Year)_

_(a spiritual sequel to “the last day of her 29th year“)

Part 2: The Death of Doctor Vader

“Well hello there” Hazel grinned.

The Progression of Things

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

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.

The South American Expedition 3

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The South American Expedition 2)_

Part Three

In the evening Dr. Stone was introduced to the whole tribe formally at a bonfire, and all of her clothes and personnel things were burned in that same fire. She was told it would be easier for her to assimilate their culture if there were no return path possible for her to the one she knew. The fire was symbolic, but she could see the logic behind it. She had no choice in the matter in any event as she was still bound, and naked, and deep into an unfamiliar jungle. The chief put a necklace around her neck made out of small bones, and fastened it in a manner that made it unlikely to ever fall off.

The Trashy Adventures of David and Christine 2: The Training of a Trash Whore

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(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.

The Trashy Adventures of David and Christine 3: Jennifer's Revenge

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(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.

The Trashy Adventures of David and Christine 4: Christine's Party

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(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.

Total Enclosure

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000