Camera on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Kate's First Video

Tue, 29 Nov 2022 00:00:00 +0000

I’m Kate. I’m 21, tiny at 5’0”, slender, medium length jet-black hair. Small-ish boobs, but on my little frame they catch the eyes. In the last few years I’ve been experimenting with selfbondage. In a sentence, I started with spread-eagle bed bondage and later began experimenting with forced vibrator scenarios. I’ve been adding to my play, going a little further, doing a little more, trying things that renew that edgy feeling.

A Water Illusion?

Sat, 20 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000

My life partner, Angie, pointed it out to me; I would have missed it, because it was in part of the paper I do not read. “What do you reckon to this?” she said as she handed the paper to me and tapped the page in the area she thought might be of interest. “You are always saying you a looking for a challenge.” I focused on the page I had been handed and quickly found the item Angie was bringing to my attention. The small ad read, ‘John Franklin challenges any aspiring escapologists to escape from the ‘Death Cage’ in under five minutes. Successful challengers will receive £1000.’ And a contact phone number. Naturally, I was intrigued, so I rang the number and left a message. That evening I received an email in response, which was odd as I had only left my name, phone number and the fact that I was interested in the ‘Death Cage’ challenge. I opened the attached documentation and discovered the nature of the challenge and the safety procedures that were being put in place. The final paragraph seemed a bit odd. It simply stated, ‘If you succeed you get £1000; if you fail you get to experience magic and what your companion has experienced throughout the challenge.’ I showed the pdf to Angie to ask what she reckoned. Her assessment was, “Handcuffs behind your back, 20 seconds, no 30 seconds, because you’ll need to release both hands; neck shackle, another twenty seconds; two sets of leg shackles, 40 seconds and the cage’s padlock another thirty seconds. I make that 2 minutes. Add that on again for being underwater makes 4 minutes; so five minutes sounds do-able. Admittedly, you can only hold your breath for 3 minutes, but they’ll be providing an air-hose, so that shouldn’t be a big deal. I reckon, if you can handle the pressure of doing this for a live audience and this John Franklin character, you should go for it.” Between us we agreed that it was worth taking this challenge to the next stage, which was emailing for further details and contracts. The next evening these details arrived, but I had spent most of the day in the tank in the summer house in the garden practicing getting out of handcuffs behind my back underwater. I had even improvised an arrangement so that it would be more like the planned arrangement for the ‘Death Cage’ The details confirmed the details of the escape and the safety arrangements and the contractual obligations on both me and the John Franklin’s people. Their obligations seemed to be to provide all the equipment required at the appointed time and place, to have all the safety arrangements in place and to provide the payment if I succeed or get me out if I fail. My obligations seemed to be to turn up at the appointed place and time (at their expense), try my best to succeed at the challenge and to bring a companion with me to see fair play. There were two things that gave me slight concern; the first was they said they would be offering more challenge on the day, for more reward; and the second was they insisted I name my companion and that they sign the contract with me. The contract made clear that the extra part to the challenge was entirely optional, I guessed this would allow them to add some element of drama into the stunt; not only would I succeed or not, but would I be up for the extra challenge? I assumed the bit about naming my companion was so that they could prepare the extra paperwork, but it turned out to be more than that. After careful consideration, we signed contracts and began negotiations about times and places. We even researched who John Franklin was; it turned out that he was a small-time magician who had landed himself a series of six half hour programs and hoped to use these as stepping stones in his magical career, but he was not being entirely selfish, because he was allocating a small amount of time on each show to a specialist performer to show their stuff. I was soon booked as the specialist performer, with Angie as my companion, for his first recording, which by this stage was six weeks away. Those six weeks were a blur; when I was not working my day job or sleeping, I was in the tank practicing with the specified hand-cuffs and padlocks. The practice was paying off, I had the handcuffs, neck-shackle and leg restraints off in under three and a half minutes and the padlock to the lid of the cage should be no trouble.

The day of the challenge dawned and we travelled to the studios where the stunt was going to be recorded and got there mid-morning; the show was going to be recorded live that evening. The remainder of the morning was spent being introduced to the crew that would be supervising my escape and checking over the equipment. Then John Franklin took us out to lunch. Once the meal was ordered, he asked, “How do you envision this escape of yours going?” Naturally, I had expected some question along those lines, so I had an answer. “I’ve practiced so that I can do it in under four minutes, but as I can see the clock from inside the tank, I’ll add to the drama, by taking my time I can be out a few seconds before the five minutes is up.” “I thought you’d say something like that, which is why we added the extra challenge option to the contract. What we want is a genuine ‘Will they make it?’ situation, rather than a ‘Can they time it right?’ one.” “I, sort of, expected that was the reasoning, but if I don’t like the extra challenge aspect, I know I don’t have to accept.” “Exactly,” he confirmed. “The paperwork says that with extra challenge comes extra reward; so make your offer and we’ll consider it.” I deliberately included Angie, because she has a better idea of what I can and cannot do, especially on top of all I was already prepared for, and also because I know she worries and it makes her feel better to have her say. “Firstly, let me say you don’t have to make a decision immediately,” he began. “We’ll show you the extra equipment this afternoon and you announce what you decide at show time.” “That’s fair.” It would have been an instant ‘No!’ if I did not get to check the equipment or I was being pressed for an instant decision. “The extra challenge comes in three parts; part one is a lid on the tank, part two is your lovely companion, Angie,” he smiled at her, “shackled to the lid on the tank and part three would be withdrawal of the air hose partway through. Part one would gain you an extra thirty seconds of performance time. Part two would gain you an extra minute, because you’d need to release Angie before you could get out. And for item three we would have to work out when to remove the hose, but on the plus side, we would supply oxygen enriched air to compensate for you not being able to hyperventilate beforehand.” “So, those are the extra challenges. And the rewards?” “Well, if you accept any part of the extras we’ll pay you your original £1000 and £1000 per part you accept, plus another grand if you accept all three and we’ll double it if you succeed. So you could make as much as 10000.” “Ok, so the rewards are not insubstantial.” At this point, his mobile phone went off. He looked apologetic, but still checked it. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. A friend has arrived, late as usual, and I’ve got to teach her how to act when I pass the buzzsaw through her middle.” He rose from the table and we began to rise to follow him. “No, don’t worry, you don’t need to come; I’ll make sure your meal is paid for, while I get something to take away and I’ll get someone to send a taxi to get you back to the studio. Enjoy your meal and I’m sure you have lots to discuss.” Then he caught my eye and he said, “And remember if you fail, you’ll experience magic and what your lovely companion has experienced throughout the escape.” Immediately and without a backward glance he rushed to do what he had to do and was lost from sight. I was slightly stunned, by his last remark; I certainly was not planning on failing, possibly not succeeding in time, but not failing; and reminding one of the possibility is not what one professional does to another professional. The food arrived and we ate, but it did not get the attention it probably deserved, because we were talking about the extra challenges. To my surprise, Angie seemed in favour of the lid on the tank, because the extra time it would take was less than the extra time it gave. She even seemed to be neutral about the removal of the air hose, but most resistant to being attached to the lid of the tank, which I put down to her innate shyness, rather than any concern that I might not be able to release her in order to release myself. The entire result of our talk was we would have to inspect the extra stuff before we could make a decision. At the end of the meal we left and found a taxi waiting, which got us back to the studio about the same time the crew got back from their canteen lunch. They showed us the lid for the tank, which hinged and would be held down by three padlocks, with holes in so that the padlocks could be reached. Then they showed us how the air hose withdrawal would work; there was a remote release mechanism between the actual hose and the mouthpiece which with the addition of the pumped air would produce a dramatic flurry of extra bubbles when it broke free. And finally they showed us the bars mounted on the ends of the tank that Angie could be shackled to; she would be attached to the ends of the bars away from the access holes in the tank lid, but cuffs can easily be slid along bars allowing access through the access hole for the side padlocks (hence Houdini’s remark that sometimes the challenge is keeping the restraints on until the escape starts). When we had the privacy we agreed that the lid would be a great addition and the air hose thing would be OK, as it added drama, as long as they did not do it more than two minutes before the end. Angie was most resistant to being an extra obstacle in my release; eventually she admitted she worried when I was involved in an escape and she coped by not watching and having faith in my abilities, but this would force her to confront the process of me escaping, which she knew I delayed from suspense purposes. It took me a while, but I convinced her that being more involved was the worth the extra four thousand it would gain us; I even promised her a weekend away together with part of the extra money. Once we had decided, I went to find John Franklin to relay our decision to take on the entire extra challenge. I found him talking to a very shaken-looking woman about his age (mid-twenties), who judging by her mascara had been crying a lot. I was about to convey what we had decided, when he said, “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know until the show, but let Ben know so he can make sure the gear is ready, then get to costume and make up so that you and Angie look the part.” It took me about ten minutes to find Ben, the floor manager, and let him know what equipment would be needed. He also gave me directions on how to get to the costume department. I went back to our dressing room and we went to costume. Costume for me was simple; a swim suit in an intense blue with a couple of black lines and a fluffy white bathrobe. Costuming Angie was not anywhere near as simple; they wanted a sexy damsel-in-distress look, but Angie’s natural modesty complicated this, along with the requirement that wrists and ankles should be free of clothes so that it was clear that she was restrained and not to get in the way of my efforts to release her. In the end, she was outfitted with a white calf-length dress with a deep neckline, short sleeves and a slit up to mid-thigh, under this was a tight body-suit, which did wonders for her waist and cleavage and finally a pair of white strappy mid-height heels. She was accessorised with a necklace of what looked like pearls and matching earrings. Then it was on to make-up, where the bare minimum was done with me; foundation, eyeliner and a whole can of hair-lacquer to hold my short hair in place. Angie got the works; her fingernails and toenails were painted, fake tan was applied to all visible areas of skin, her face was made-up to match the sexy damsel-in-distress image they seemed to have in mind for Angie, much emphasis on eyes and lips and then they added more curl to her already curly hair, primarily to make sure it did not end up with it in the way. As we were leaving for a light canteen snack before the show, the head make-up lady, told Angie not to cry, because her the eye make-up would instantly turn her into a panda. The period before the show was uneventful, although I did notice some admiring glances for Angie, which I did not mention, in case it would make her reconsider her part in the stunt. At the appointed time, we were called to the wings and watched John Franklin perform the buzzsaw illusion. The woman I had seen earlier was lain on the travelling table, on top of a piece of wood that had just been sawn to show the reality of the buzzsaw, and the table travelled under the saw with the blade splitting the wood under her and appearing to pass through her bared midriff. She seemed a lot less upset than earlier, but she still eyed the rotating blade with a nervousness, which I wondered whether showed how good an actor she was or embodied a genuine uncertainty as to the outcome of having it appear to pass through her. Naturally she survived her ordeal, but seemed awed by what had happened and relieved it was over. Now it was our turn. John Franklin introduced us as people he had known for a while (which was true if five minutes in a restaurant counted). We went on and he explained the basic concept of the escape. “We suggested some additions to this escape, did you decide to go with then?” he asked. Noting that he was being vague, I paused, to give the editors a chance to ramp up the tension, before being vague right back. “Yes, we decided that we’d go with all of them, but Angie isn’t particularly happy about her part.” “Quite understandable; being an obstacle in your partner’s escape would make anyone nervous,” he commented. Then we got down to the business at hand, while John Franklin provided commentary to cover what would be, to the observer, the dull part of the procedure. First I knelt on the grid that was the base of the cage and clamps were placed over my calves and ankles held in place with padlocks, then I bent down and a collar was put round my neck and padlocked to a short chain attached to the floor of the cage. The sides of the cage were folded up and pinned in place and the top of the cage slotted into place, hinged down and the padlock put in place. The final part of me being locked into the death cage was me putting my wrists near the lid and Ben closing the handcuffs round my wrists with the chain between over the central bar of the cage’s lid, thus holding my wrists up from my back and straining my shoulders a bit. In this cramped and uncomfortable position, I was fed the air hose while two bars were attached to the cage. Four large men took an end of a bar each and lifted the entire assembly and a young lady took charge of my air supply. As soon as I was over the tank I gave a thumbs up to indicate I was ok and ready to proceed. Carefully the men lowered me into the water, while the young lady stage hand clipped the hose into position on the hinge side of the tank. The water was icy cold, which was good, because the body’s natural reaction is to restrict blood supply to the peripheral parts of the body and so preserving more oxygen for fuelling the core bodily functions, effective lowering your metabolism; the downside being that your hands go numb before too long, which is not ideal if you require them to be dexterous and sensitive. As the air began to pump with the sweet tang of added oxygen I looked up to check I could still see the clock; I could, so I made another thumbs up gesture to show I was happy to continue. The final stages of the preparations I did not see, because my view was confined to looking through the cage and the clear Plexiglas walls of the tank at the studio floor and the legs of the crew doing their jobs. First came the rush of additional cold as they poured two buckets of additional water into the tank to convince the audience I was truly submerged, this was accompanied by some muted thuds as the other two crewmen fitted and closed the tank’s lid, then the air-hose lady attached the padlocks to hold it down. More water-muffled knocks and bangs followed telling me that Angie was being shackled to the bars on top of the tank. I spent this time to remember my planned sequence of escape and generally calm my nerves, by breathing deeply to increase the oxygen in my system. A tap on the end of the tank told me that all was ready and as I wanted to get on with it I made the agreed double thumbs up to show I was ready. I glimpsed Ben’s face and then his hand holding out three fingers; the countdown had begun and I was already moving my lockpicking tool from where I had it palmed to the tips of my fingers. One of Ben’s fingers folded away, then another and finally the entire hand was taken out of my sight; the escape had begun. To aid my concentration I closed my eyes and took a moment to concentrate on the planned sequence of the escape, then I began the dramatic thrashing about; given my constrained position it was not much, but is served to cover the fact I was using the pick to release the handcuffs. Ten seconds can seem like an eternity, but it took me that long to find the key hole in my cuff, partly because Ben had put the cuffs on my wrists so that the hole I was looking for was on the wrong side. A quick check confirmed it would be easier to transfer the pick and release the other wrist first so that’s what I did. With one cuff released, I opened my eyes to check the time on the clock, while I transferred the pick back to the now uncuffed hand; forty-three seconds; where has all that time gone, I am usually out of the first cuff in about twenty five seconds. I put it down to the minor problem with the orientation of the cuff and possibly nerves, and took another deep breathe from the air hose. I closed my eyes again and tackled the other cuff. With the picking hand free it is not to long before the second hand is free. Another time check, One minute nineteen seconds; I think I must have missed something, but I still had a little over five minutes for eight padlocks and four more sets of cuffs, but now I could work with both hands and the strain between my shoulder blades had eased. I moved to start on the neck shackle, but noticed a camera through the glass of the tank and paused to give a smile, which I hoped said, ‘I am doing ok, but not as ok as I had hoped,’ and a brief thumbs up, before continuing to release myself from the bottom of the cage. I grabbed the padlock holding the neck shackle to the chain in my left hand and fitted the pick into the keyhole. A few jiggles and it was open but I bumped my elbow on the side of the tank and accidentally snapped it back shut. Rats! A little more circumspectly, I released the neck padlock again. The original plan had been to remove the collar once it was released, despite this seeming to be unnecessary, but it would fill time to make the escape seem more life and death at the end without me floating about doing nothing. I decided with the two mistakes that had already been made that it would be a waste of time, so I just skooched back a bit to get easier access to the last four padlocks holding me to the cage. While I reached for the first of these I looked at the time again. Two minutes and thirteen seconds! I knew I had lost a bit of time but that seemed a lot. Was I missing something? Was there too much added oxygen? I’d heard that an excess of added oxygen can impair your faculties, like being drunk, but surely they would not do that. ‘Concentrate!’ I told myself. I went to work on the padlocks holding my legs to floor of the cage. I soon had both my calves free and the shackles open so I could sit back even further to make it easier to reach the ankle shackles. I decided on another time check in the hope that I could calm myself a bit by seeing that I had made back some of the time I had lost. As I looked up the clock ticked over to three minutes; good, but not great, I had not lost any further time, but not gained any either. As I leaned back and worked on my ankle restraints, I closed my eyes once more. Another bump of an elbow on the side of the cage reminded me that I should be more careful to avoid needing to pick these locks twice. The first padlock fell away, so onto the second, but where was it? A feel about told me that in my thrashing about it had changed position and was jammed under my buttock. I changed position and repositioned the lock so that I could pick it. Once I had it in my grasp it fell away with a few deft movements of the pick I still had in my hand. ‘Stay calm!’ only four locks on the lids and the cuffs restraining Angie to go. Another look at the time, which I was rapidly feeling was becoming the enemy. Three minutes fifty-two seconds! ‘Surely it can’t have taken that long.’ I felt the edge of panic, so I paused to just breathe the enriched air which I knew I would be losing in another minute. I turned on my side and felt the hinge of the neck shackle catch on one of the bars of the cage; maybe not removing it had been a bad idea after all. I looked towards the audience, feeling certain that they could see me; I could not see them, or even the cameras, because it seemed my movements had splashed water through the holes in the lid and water was running down the outside of the tank. I looked up and saw that the skirt of Angie’s dress was soaked and the added weight had pulled on the rest it opening up the slit to show more leg than she would be comfortable with. ‘I bet she looks good,’ I thought. ‘Don’t get distracted!’ I admonished myself, ‘Focus!’ My hand found the padlock securing the cage shut and it was soon open and removed to join the other five padlocks on the tank floor. Another change of position and I could reach through the access hole in the lid of the tank between Angie’s ankles. Reaching through, I snagged the lock and positioned it so I could quickly have it undone once I had changed hands. As I changed hands the neck shackle once again bumped against the cage’s bars, causing a small loss of precious momentum. Nonetheless, I reached through and the lock fell open at my touch and I unhooked it and tossed it away. I took another look at the timer to find out how soon I was going to lose my air supply; I did not want to be surprised by the sudden flurry of bubbles when the air hose broke away at the agreed time of five minutes and three seconds. The clock showed four minutes and fifty-five. While I reached for the second lid padlock I counted in my head to be ready; I had reached six when I felt the change in the texture of the water and shortly after a light thump on my back as the air-hose snaked its way out of the tank. I spat out the now useless mouth piece and grimaced for the camera I knew would be watching for a reaction. I had hoped to already be releasing Angie at this point. The second padlock was soon thrown away and I was reaching for the third; the one between Angie’s restrained wrists. This was positioned and unlocked in a matter of another ten seconds. Time was getting tight. I had just over a minute to release four cuffs and get out of the tank. I considered changing the plan again; the fine print said I had to release Angie’s wrists before her ankles, so she could not get off the tank lid and open it for me before she was properly released. I was thinking about unlocking her ankles first and taking whatever penalty was due, but Angie already had slid one wrist to where I could get to it. I decided that rather than cause Angie more concern by changing the plan, I would have to proceed as planned. Angie was shaking with nerves which made the fiddly job of releasing the first cuff a little trickier, but it was soon done and another wrist presented. While I was liberating Angie’s other wrist, I saw something happening out of the corner of my eye. Between us and the cameras John Franklin and Ben were holding up a deep red cloth. Even before I had finished the cuff I was working on I had a last glimpse of the timer; it showed six minute and two seconds. Then as the cuff opened, the cloth settled over the tank; I was now in darkness. I mentally cursed John Franklin and crew for cheating as I turned inside the cage to release Angie’s ankles which I knew she would have in position for me, despite the added distraction. I reached through and instantly found the cuff on her left ankle. I began to hear, muffled by the water the beeps that indicated the last ten seconds. Then I dropped my pick; the coldness of the water had taken its toll at last. As I heard the electronic beeps countdown the final seconds of the challenge, I was groping for the dropped picking-tool. I was resigned to failing the challenge, but there would be very little to do to rescue me, just finish releasing Angie’s legs and open the lids. I would have acquitted myself well and if it had not been for several avoidable mistakes I could well have succeeded. The final beep seemed so much louder than the previous nine. I realised my head had gone swimmy for a moment. Things were different from what they were a moment ago; I was out of the water, but still under the cloth. Instinct told me that I was now on the lid of the tank and that I should get off. I rolled off onto the floor in the direction of the audience; there was a hush that seemed to ask, ‘What is going to happen now?’ I struggled from the folds of the cloth to see what was going on. And was greeted with a small cheer, which suddenly stopped as they noticed something that I had not yet. I turned and looked at the tank, expecting to see both lids open, but they were both shut. How had I got out without opening the lids? Then I noticed the lids were once again padlocked. Then the key thing I had missed hit me; inside the cage in the tank full of water was Angie, shackled exactly as I had been. “Get her out of there!” I yelled, but the crew were already rushing toward the tank, with keys and lifting bars in hand. I felt the urge to rush forward and help, but realised that I would only be in the way; I felt so helpless. Angie was desperately trying to move to release herself, but all these constrained movements contrived to do was cause her hair and skirt to float about her. As the padlocks holding the lid of the tank were released, I was hoping Angie had not breathed in any water when she unexpectedly found herself underwater. I hoped she was not drowning while I watched totally impotent to help her in any way. Much to my relief, the lid slammed open and the four men who had lowered me into that tank of cold water, began to attach the bars to the lid of the cage. At this point I suddenly wished that the lid was locked, because if it was loose the whole cage would jam in the tank and delay the time when my Angie would be able to breathe again. I took half a step toward the tank, thinking I would check, but then John Franklin took hold of me and said, “There’s nothing you can do, rely on them to do their jobs and don’t interfere.” It took a huge effort of will to take that totally correct advice. When the men had hoisted the cage from the tank, I took what I realised was the first breathe since my yell, my head seemed to have a dull ache. As the cage touched the floor, John Franklin let go of my arm and I rushed to see that Angie was alright. She was breathing heavily with her hair plastered to her face and the skirt clinging to her legs. It took the crew nearly a minute to release Angie and she stumbled into my arms; during this time I took a little time to bless the foresight of the costume department for making Angie wear the body suit under the dress or she would have been rather more exposed than she thought. The air hose lady came up with two white fluffy dressing gowns and we were bustled off stage.

Once in our dressing room, I had time to consider what had occurred. While I felt my failure to escape in the allotted time was my fault, Angie ending up lock and shackled in the cage underwater was entirely down to John Franklin and his team and all the worse for not let us know it was a possible scenario. I was becoming angry, but could not think what to do about it. Eventually, getting dry and changing into our own clothes became the priority. Finally I asked Angie, “What happened?” “I don’t quite know. I saw you drop the pick in the dim light under the cloth they flung over us as the beeping from the timer started, I was about to reach forward and put it in your hand, when just before the final beep, I took a very deep breath and was suddenly in the water with my neck and shins shackled to the base of the cage. I’ve never been so frightened. At least I had the presence of mind to hold my breath until they rescued me; I never realised it was so hard.” “Me?” I said, “I’ve never felt so helpless; wanting to help you, but being totally unable to, in fact if I had got any closer I would probably have delayed them getting you out, which feels doubly helpless.” “That’s kind of how I feel, every time you are doing any remotely dangerous escape. You know, trying to help would probably worse than standing back and hoping.” “I guess that’s what Franklin meant when he said something about me feeling what you feel while I escape. And if you believe in magic that swimmy feeling in my head when it happen must have been it. I guess we were kind of warned, but very obliquely. He’d better have a good explanation or I’ll not be answerable for my actions. Make that a very, verrrry good explanation.” We sat and wondered if we could get a cup of tea, while the adrenalin subsided. About ten minutes later. John Franklin knock on the door and entered. Before he could open his mouth, I said, “This had better be good, because we are not happy and if we don’t leave happy, we’ll be suing you for breach of contract for as much as we can get.” His smile faltered for maybe half a second, while considered what line would best keep him and his reputation from being dragging through the mud. “What a performance! You certainly earned your ten grand.” For a moment, I wondered what he was talking about, so I asked aggressively. “You were marvellous,” he said. “I auditioned some professionals, but they had nothing on you. They were too smooth to make the illusion look credible. But you with the couple of fumbles made it look truly death-defying and you were incredibly fast; if we hadn’t tweaked the timer to run fifty percent faster, you’d have been out long before the time limit and the magic couldn’t have happened.” For a moment part of my brain did the maths. I had got to the point I had got to in a few seconds over four minutes even with all the extra obstacles and recovering the pick and undoing the last of Angie’s shackles would not have taken the whole of the final minute of the original challenge. I was mentally patting myself on the back, when another part of my mind reminded me that my failure to finish in the allotted time was not my beef with Mr Franklin, but the fact he had tried to drown Angie. “Now I understand why you say I earned the money, but what about what happened next? Angie was completely unprepared for her dunking, possibly near drowning.” I looked at Angie for confirmation and support; she looked sheepish instead. “I wasn’t totally unprepared, but I had been warned I would end up in the water.” “When?” I challenged. “When I rang my cousin John to congratulate him on getting his TV deal. I wished him well and expressed some disappointment that I was failing to let you know how stressful your ‘hobby’ was for me. He suggested that he could help, if I was prepared to seem in danger and arrange that you get involved. He called the illusion ‘The Drowning Pool’; it took me some time to find it, ‘coz there’s a band called the same thing that gets the top hits when I searched on YouTube, but once I understood the concept it seemed like the only way to make you see how bad it makes me feel to be helpless while you escape.” “You’re right!” I admitted, “I’ve been selfish in not considering how you feel when I do my thing. I’ll give it up, if you ask me to.” “Before today I’d have said, ‘Yes, please give up escapology.’ But having been in the spotlight and properly the centre of attention, rather than just someone who came along with you. I have some idea of the buzz you get from it. I want to join you in escaping; you can train me. I’ll probably never be as good as you, but together we could be better than anyone.” John interjected, “You are the best amateur I have ever seen.” “Do you really mean that?” I asked looking at Angie, she nodded. “You know I love you?” She nodded again; she seemed almost at the point of tears. “Angie, will you marry me?” She closed the two paces between us, said, “Of course, I will, Brenda!” and we hugged until we were out of breath.

Extreme Magic Vignette: Lampposts

Wed, 19 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000

The sun was shining and the park seemed fairly crowded. In the area near the bandstand, Terry, in his usual attire of black T-shirt, jeans and trainers and followed by a cameraman, stood and watched groups of people wander by. He is holding a small black backpack.

Terry, trailed by the cameraman, approaches a group consisting of three couples in their early twenties.

“Good afternoon,” he greets the group, “My name is Terry; I’m a magician. We are filming some location magic stunts for a TV magic show. Would you like to take part?”

Fluke

Wed, 19 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Doreen struggled like a fish out of water.

Because she was.

Well she was and she wasn’t.

Her fascination with mermaids was started at seven and never quit. Growing up in near New Orleans near the gulf. Swimming was her passion. Swimming as a mermaid . More so.

Now in her early twenties she had really done it to herself.

Her dad died when Katrina hit. She was just ten. Mom remarried about eighteen month later. An investment banker. But his wife died of cancer so she inherited a new dad and a brother. Dick.

Perspective

Sun, 09 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000

James watched.

He could not help himself. He wanted to look away but what he saw pulled at him.

Before him lay a woman. Spread eagled on a bed. Bound by ropes and chain. Blind folded and hardly moving. Wires running to her vagina and breast.

He was not ignorant. Just that you hear about these things and sort of dismiss them. Not in my backyard sort of thing.

A retired Navy man with over twenty-two years in the service. He thought had seen it all.

Almost Damsel in Almost Distress

Wed, 03 Apr 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Part 1

Finally! I had the day off from work and I planned to spend it indulging two of my favorite activities… crossdressing and self-bondage! I’ve been dressing since I was 10 years old, and about the only thing that was more exciting than getting all femmed up… was locking myself into some strict bondage and struggling to get free!

I lived in a small apartment complex on the edge of town. Being on the outskirts meant I was able to get a place on my own, finally! After college I got a nice job and was making some decent money, sure I was mostly paying my college loans, but I could afford to have my own apartment. After having roommates all through college, this was my first time really living on my own. So, I was able to get dressed whenever I wanted, which was just about any time I was home!

Jinni’s Day of Training

Wed, 03 Apr 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Jinni had been adept in self bondage for years, enjoying her forced silence, only using the most severe gags she could find, to ensure she had her quiet time by herself. Relying either on her skill of moving her bound body to her release or on one of the several timed released methods she had come to trust. After the only time she ever had a release fail completely and had to be saved by her downstairs neighbor did Jinni find out how nice it could be to have another like minded person involved in her bondage.

Caught on Camera

Thu, 26 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000

My ex college boyfriend Brad was going to be in town for a few days for business so I suggested he stay in my guest room rather than an Airbnb like he had planned. It would save him some money and we could catch up a little since the last time we were face to face. Our breakup had been amicable and mutual as following graduation jobs took us to different cities in different states. We tried the long distance thing but it just did not work out so we just maintained our friendship on social media. His flight was due to put him at my house somewhere after 5 P.M. at the earliest if everything went perfect for him and I told him there would be a surprise waiting on him when he got here. It was rather flirtatious of me as I meant his favorite comfort food, pizza and beer, but I could not help myself with a little tease. I gave him my guest code for the community gate and electronic lock to my front door so that he could just let himself in during his stay and gave security his name and description. I knew he had a new girlfriend and I told myself to keep my flirting down to a minimum and absolutely no sexual activity. To help curb my libido I decided on a bit of self bondage before he arrived and a cam show.

Jump the Fence

Wed, 21 Feb 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Moving to a new neighborhood was hard, of course any move was hard, but jumping the fence into the neighbor’s yard late at night when they were not home to use their Jacuzzi was easy. Jessi didn’t even hesitate to jump the fence she was just that kind of carefree kind of gal, and she didn’t really think they would mind even if they did catch her, the man of the house had seemed like a nice guy for the 10 seconds that she had met him as she was trying to organize and manage her moving crew. Jessi just wished she had had more time to talk to him, she liked to know her neighbors. Plus her muscles were killing her from the stress of packing and unpacking, and the long drive from out of town. She wondered if this guy had kids, she would not have guess that he did, it was just a hunch, but now that she was seeing his pool she was reconsidering her hunch. The pool was filled with weird toys all over the place. Most of it looked like blow up pool toys, and most of them were in the shapes of bugs or the occasional bird, lizard, dog, or cat. Jessi had to assume that toys like this belonged to a little boy so she refrained from her original plan to strip out of her bathing suite and use her birthday suite instead. It had been up in the air until seeing the toys but she now had the answer to her earlier question: No, she would not get in the mood to take the “little man in the boat” on a whitewater rafting trip on one of the water jets from the Jacuzzi.

Lady Fortunato

Mon, 30 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Marion

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Marion told her boyfriend Kevin as he led her by the hand through the frat house that was still being decorated for tonight’s open Haunted House. Every year on Halloween, his fraternity used the Haunted House to raise money and it was always the most popular one on campus. Having their scantily clad sister sorority members scattered around the house in different scary predicament scenes helped tremendously.

Birthday Surprise

Wed, 10 May 2017 00:00:00 +0000

He heard the clicking of the metal stiletto’s she was wearing coming into the room. He shook…. looking into the mirror in her walk in closet… bathed in a pink light.

On his knees, bottom up, he could see himself, purple hair with pig tails, smokey eyes, whitish face foundation, plastic face harness that made his lips into a perfect circle… all shiny pink and swollen with with puffing permanent lipstick she had painted on them… a thin rubber tube and inflation bulb coming out….

Model Trap

Sat, 16 Jul 2016 00:00:00 +0000

Simone and Kate met at the university where they study. They like each other from the beginning. Therefore, they are drawn together in a flat since second semesters to save money for living, because students are customary always short of money. Some try themselves as waitress in one of the many bars around the university. Unfortunately, this part time job isn´t the right one for the girls, because they dropped the tray at the first trial work and the drinks are poured over a guest. This is why the two girls always browse the newspapers for quick and easy jobs.

Shelley’s Silly Saturday

Tue, 21 Jul 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Dateline 21st May 2008. Shelley grinned as the casket top eased down under her fingers. Hearing the click of the camera timer every few seconds as another photo was added to the storyboard. The first time one of her bondage stories written for Gromet’s site would have real pictures to go with it. Mike was sure going to be impressed she’d shot a lot of it by herself rather than waiting until tomorrow as they’d intended. With him arriving over the other side of town in his boss’ yard, then due home by seven PM she’d have time to edit a few of the better ones before they sat down to watch the European Cup Final. Their chicken salad was ready alongside the beer in the fridge, housework and all her normal workstuff up to date so she knew he’d be pleased. Mike knew his wife, though a ‘work-from-home’ lassie, never slacked off when he was away driving around Europe. She’d certainly been busy earlier in the afternoon getting ready… Looking at herself in the bedroom mirror after a bath and hairwash, pleased that at thirty-six she was ‘ageing well’ as he’d say. Nothing sagging… yet. The gym sessions on the garage rowing machine and cross-trainer kept Shelley well toned, plus of course ‘there’s always that special exercise’ when he was home. A smile thinking if her beloved Man United won tonight she’d have to be extra nice to him as he supported Chelsea! The first time they’d met in a final for years and the first ever All-English European match. So having applied her lingerie, letting the camera take a photo of her standing there, hands on hips, that cheeky grin as she posed in her ‘bridal best’. “Wonder if he’ll keep a copy of this on his cellphone” she’d chuckled before reaching for the dress. Her exercise routine and careful diet allowed Shelley to still fit into her wedding gown fourteen years after that magical day. As it was unlikely to be handed down to another generation she used this as a template once a year to prove to herself that her body wasn’t getting out of order. She detested scales and hadn’t weighed herself since a hospital visit two years ago. A most private thing knowing that for any lady, so if Shelley could fit in this, then that was enough to satisfy her mind. Today was another good day as she stepped into the gown, wriggling down into it, reaching underneath sorting out the petticoats. Then she flipped the front up and got her arms into the sleeves and eased the thing over her shoulders. Though Shelley’s writings often included bridalwear, it was still a thrill for her to wear one for real and today was no exception as it was zipped to her neck. Mother had been so proud seeing her daughter in this but she’d probably have frowned seeing what the lass planned to do next as she wriggled her feet into the shoes. Least these didn’t have straps and Shell could easily get out of them unlike Charlotte Warren and Rosita Wright, the girls whose poses she was recreating today. That had involved being bound wrist and ankle then locked into a casket. One of which was now sitting in the double garage of their Boston home. Quite where Mike had bought it she didn’t know, nor care as they’d discussed this idea last weekend before he’d gone to Paris. He could shoot her against a sheet hanging from the roof then superimpose the cavern wall behind her. “PhotoShop’s a damn good thing,” he’d grinned. That she’d got the material sorted and mounted would surely impress him when he got back from work. More sheeting was laid on the floor for the same reason. “The camera never lies eh?” she’d laughed to herself laying it out before getting dressed. Now she swished from bedroom to garage, managing not to trip up coming downstairs. She grabbed a box from the shelf and laid out the restraints bought at the same time from somewhere in Germany according to the paperwork. They were certainly heavy enough and the time she’d tested then still made her shudder. There were keys but also the cuffs had a ‘quick release button along one side for self-bondage users. If you used the keys as well though, the buttons would not work. Sensibly Mike had confiscated those before leaving. “Not that I don’t trust you… ” He’d modified the casket with several breathing holes, drilling at each end and a few down the sides. The ornate panelling disguised them and it’d take a close look for you to see. Then he’d allowed Shell to jump in and check it worked before he sorted out the fixed collar arrangement. She’d done so and knelt down into the Z-shape that the girls had been bound, her heart pounding as he flipped the lid shut on top of his wife. The sound of two catches clicking across made the box shake as she’d shuddered. Then she’d sat back as he mounted the collar on a steel pole in front of her knees. Screwing it tight then allowing Shelley to lean forward to check it was correctly seated, resting her throat in the well-padded lower half. Her hands holding the blonde hair aside then Mike brought the upper loop and enclosed her neck. A moment’s pressure and it clicked closed. She gasped, having not expected this but thankfully after a moment to settle and reassure him she could breathe OK he pushed the button and allowed her up. A broad smile proving to him that she’d be fine next weekend. Since then Shelley had spent several hours wearing the restraints during her week alone but not in the box. Mostly with her wrists in front, but one afternoon she wore them behind, hanging them off the heavy steel belt by virtue of an old climbing snaplock Mike had from his Army days. That really got her going and was another thing she planned to shoot today. Arriving in the garage having locked all the doors Shelley took some photos of the casket on its own before mounting the camera on the tripod. With only her here it’d mean several times more work but she was determined to impress him. Firstly she applied the belt, this thing weighed a ton and she certainly had to breathe in to fit it round. It closed with a lovely ‘clunk’ however and she set the timer, waiting thirty seconds before the snap of the shutter to happen following two beeps. Then Shelley put the cuffs onto it. Turning away, waiting… beep… beep click, placing wrists inside and again the pause. “So far, so good,” as she freed herself. Next Shelley prepared the stuff to wrap her head. A ton of old T-shirts had been ripped into strips, so first was a gag. After a long drink of course to settle nerves before she began. Stuffing enough in to puff her cheeks out then a thick band to wrap it securely. Beep, beep… click… and she waited then for a repeat a minute later, this time winking as it beeped and clicked again… perfect. Having succeeded in that Shelley blindfolded herself though it took longer, being caught with one of the pads only partway across her eyes. That one would be deleted but the next was ideal. She flapped her hands down to the closed lid of the casket for the last bigger bits. She’d practised tying this earlier and was confident she’d get it right. Ignoring the click of the camera this time, it was set to shoot once a minute to save the battery. After five frustrating minutes however Shelley finished her headwrap and felt for the tripod. Facing it first head on then the next two were from the side and rear, her short blonde ponytail sticking out the only hole left. Mike had said he’d be able to doctor the colour for Charlotte’s black one. Shelley freed herself from the wrap. Another drink taken as her mouth was dry now from the gag. She looked through the ‘rush’s’ deleting the mistakes and well chuffed with the others. The phone rang in the house and she hurried into the kitchen to answer it. Mike was on the other end, saying hi and he was back at the yard, that he’d be leaving within two hours so there would be time for a bath before the match after all. The truck was in need of polishing for a promotion shoot so he was doing it today as it wasn’t raining and would give him a lie-in on Monday morning. “Sounds good, beer’s chillin’ I’ve got some wine too and supper’s ready in the fridge honey. Just bring some humble pie for when the Mighty Red’s whip your Blues asses,” she said. Quoting team colours back to him. He laughed and said a good whipping was what she’d get tonight anyway and Shelley glowed, spanking was something written about but never done in real life… yet. The call ended and Shelley nipped upstairs to use the loo. Realising that no way would the girls have been able to use a bucket while shackled and dressed like this. But nobody had commented about it so that was enough as she shook the gown straight then returned to the garage. Adjustments were made to the tripod before she got to work again, the camera much closer this time and pointing downwards. Getting into the box and kneeling down, then remembering the belt was in the kitchen! She grumbled then swished her way there and back, loving the feel as the dress whipped around her legs with that rustle. It was applied then Shelley clambered back into the casket. Moving the tripod back till the camera was pointing at her feet. She put the ankle manacles on then waited, click, before she slipped both wrists into those cuffs and that too was shot. So it was easier than thought as the device began rapidly beeping at her. “Bloody battery,” she grumbled and got free to change it. Another look at the clock and she had 90 minutes left. Shelley didn’t want to finish yet, this had been fun so carried on. Moving the tripod up to the other end and setting the timer again. This part was to close-up shoot her wrapped head locked into the collar. So the laborious process of that was begun. Quicker now with practice and she smiled bending into the Z and then a curse as her face smacked into the open part of the collar because she’d twisted slightly. A shuffle over then she tried again. This time her throat rested correctly. A deep breath then Shelley brought the upper loop round, her heart pounding for a moment then… clunk. Her neck now LOCKED her into the casket! Beep… beep… click and despite the wrapping Shelley smiled into the gag. The woman reached up and punched the button and it popped open. She sat up and wondered how much more to do. It took a few moments then Shelley decided to finish with a wider angle shot with everything done. That meant she had to fit a snaplock to her ankle cuffs, run a short chain to the belt then secure it all up. She wondered whether to wait, ‘nah, he’s gonna be tired’ so she unwrapped her head then got out to check the angle required. That took a few minutes then she began to secure herself… each bit photographed in turn. Ankles… the chain to her belt, a quick check to see it wasn’t too tight once her head was in the collar. Close but good enough so Shelley paused then wrapped her head again. Really stuffing her mouth like a squirrel then the rest. A last look round then she blindfolded herself and added the covering last. Smiling now Shelley eased forward till it was correct then flipped the loop across. Heart shuddering as her fingers pushed it… clunk. Shelley paused then with difficulty placed both wrists into the cuffs. The chain from her ankles had pulled them down despite the belt and it took a lot of finger flicking before they snapped around and held her firmly. ‘Got it… bloody perfect,’ she murmured, waiting for the beep… beep… click and that was enough for today. She waited for it to take a couple more then her fingers reached for the… A frown as she traced round the rims, knowing they weren’t that big so it was a slow process. But she just didn’t understand it… where the hell were the release buttons? Yes they were only on one side, surely she hadn’t got the cuffs turned around… had she? Then her heart seized up at realising that was what must have happened. The buttons WERE on the elbow side of the restraints… AND because the ankle chain was pulling them closer, hands almost palm-to palm Shelley was unable to get her fingers back over the cuffs and press them. Trying this, twisting her cuffs had proved she was hopelessly stuck and the lass shook badly. Mike was sure going to be cross with his wife finding her stuck. She’d always promised to be careful on the rare occasions she tied herself. Yet now, doing all this without permission… well a spanking might actually be deserved! Shelley was appalled now. Arms and legs cuffed, Neck locked in the loop. Blindfolded and gagged too and she marvelled despite her predicament, no wonder ‘Lotte had got wet in the story. She wriggled more from side to side, seeing if somehow the ankle chain would slacken off and allow her to… really going for it but Shelley squealed as the lid suddenly fell across her hands, bending one finger painfully back and that hurt. This wasn’t funny despite the beep of the camera then it clicking. She’d gotten stuck by her own hand, just like… Jesse, Charlotte, Rosie… well most of her characters actually and Shelley began crying softly into her gag. The top must only be a fraction open as a faint draft was coming across her fingers. “Well he might as well find me really stuck then!” Shelley trying to shuffle lower, really pushing down as she rocked her butt from side to side. Forcing her body into itself… Her heart jumped… another faint click… wasn’t that? But it didn’t sound like the shutter, she certainly hadn’t heard the beeps, pausing for a moment, Shelley lifted… but… was the lid stuck as the pressure didn’t decrease? She didn’t panic, that was something she rarely did, also because she didn’t want to twist her neck in the collar. More hefty jerks as she tried to bump the lid up having changed her mind, only to suddenly squeal as another click occured, right by her left ear this time and she knew… ‘That’s where the other catch is’ she groaned, now realising both the hasps had dropped due to those movements and she was now definitely trapped in the casket. There was nothing she could do now but smile… and wait for freedom, just like Charlotte and Rosie! Mike drove slowly up to the house, looking forward to his first beer. Supper could wait until half time, then after Chelsea won he’d teach Mrs P the true meaning of… well whatever and he grinned. No sign of his wife at the door so he switched off. Normally the sound of that engine had her running over for a hug and kiss, so where the hell was she? Unless he’d caught her short, “Might be on the toilet after all,” he smiled opening the boot and unloading the first of his bags and boxes. Having only been away five days there wasn’t much, but he was concerned when after a few minutes she didn’t show. He unlocked the side door, the front was only for visitors or Shelley’s agency clients and Mike stepped into their large kitchen. Immaculate as usual, only one mug and plate in the sink but the place was real quiet. It took him moments to search the place and no blonde lassie anywhere. A smart dress lay on their bed, the guy surprised to see underwear there as well. Flat shoes alongside it, as she wasn’t allowed to wear heels in the house because of their wood floor. The only wardrobe open was hers’ the normally unused part at the far end. She had so many outfits and he smiled, assuming she was in the bath and this lot was to be worn for the game. Her long red dress and shoes, ‘typical Man U Mrs, even colour-coding her support’ he chuckled. Well that could be fixed and he rummaged about, finding a blue outfit instead and replaced both on the bed. Before creeping into the bathroom… only to find it empty. Now he was concerned, maybe a little put out at this so clattered back downstairs. Only the garage remained as their new hot-tub on the patio was obviously empty! He came through the side door and stopped in amazement. Seeing the casket on the floor, sheeting placed where he’d intended to mount it. The camera already there and he jumped when it clicked again. “Shell’ you in there?” he asked quietly, now seeing the box lid move against the latches. So THAT’S where she was and he paused then smiled and picked up the camera, turning the switch off then starting to look through a large number of photos. He stared as the order progressed, her shapely figure clad in… “Wow, I’m impressed honey,” he whispered, seeing that shot of her in the basque and stockings, the way she’d looked all those years ago… and a few since then too! Then in here and now he realised what she was up to. Shelley had not been able to wait for him and had done this herself. But how the hell had she managed to get the lid down… or maybe it been accidental and actually the lass had got stuck? “Like your characters missy!” he grinned, then flipped the catches up and quickly planted two great paws on her shaking backside. Shelley had heard the car draw up and sighed, knowing her fate was sealed but at least she was safe from her own stupidity. She waited for ages, heart pounding, blood thumping in her ears and couldn’t hear him now standing there. Suddenly the latches squeaked, pressure on her arms was reduced and she squealed as hands groped her butt. “Gotcha Mrs,” he said loudly, seeing Shelley’s fingers twitching now in their cuffs. A really cock-hardening sight and he remembered the guy, Charlie wasn’t it? After binding his sister and shutting her inside. Well here was the same result. “Want to be freed?” he asked and got a thumbs up. Seeing the way her fingers couldn’t reach the buttons that he now pressed. A groan as they popped open then another as he did the one on her collar. Shelley sat up, her head rocking from side to side as she eased the ache in her neck and back. Mike reached down seeing her ankles too were secured and undid that, lifting her up by the armpits, feeling her shaking as he got the lassie standing, somewhat unsteadily on her feet. The lid was closed and he helped Shell sit down again, then helped her unwrap the face covering. Mike now startled to see how well she’d gagged and blindfolded herself. It took Shelley a few minutes to recover her eyesight before getting to her feet for a hug and kiss. “Sorry love,” she sighed, tears not that far away. “Got a bit carried away, didn’t I?” He nodded, not wanting to scold her. Though wearing that and what he knew was underneath maybe a good screwing was required instead! “You did, but I’m here now.” He replied, holding his wife as she began crying. It took another minute of stroking before she settled down asking to see the camera shots. They went into the kitchen where she made a pot of tea as Mike sat there looking at her. Shelley looked back and blushed as he came across for another hug. “Cannot believe you did all that just for me eh? You naughty girl” he grinned. Saying how much he loved her whatever she did. Shelley now saw the last photos and admitted how turned on she’d become. “Just like ‘Lotte’ I wonder when we do these again tomorrow whether ‘Charlie’ will give her a ‘trembler’” and they both laughed now. “Maybe, but you might as well stay in that. Better than the red one you’d laid out upstairs. Least whites’ a neutral colour!” They had another hug, his hands roaming all over her. He looked over at the clock, seeing the match started in half an hour… and grinned. “Want another quick go? I’ll be ‘Charlie’” and no surprise when Shelley blushed then kissed him and agreed. A quick dash to the bathroom and she returned to the garage to see him there replacing the camera on the tripod. Setting it running then he did a mans’ required duty. Gagging and blindfolding his wife before getting her down into the casket. This time she shuddered as he LOCKED the cuffs then secured that collar round her neck. “OK?” he asked and got a thumb’s up. This was good, knowing he was here. It meant SO much more actually wearing the restraints and the rest rather than just writing about them. Hopefully her stories would improve now. He said the lid was coming down then closed it, flicking the catches across. Mike stepped to the workbench and rummaged in a draw, finding two nails and a small hammer, knocking them into the clasps. “You’re done love.” getting the two ‘I’m OK’ taps on the lid in reply. Now he really chuckled, fetching a trolley and sliding the casket onto it, wheeling the thing into the house, through the kitchen and into the lounge. Placing it to the side of the sofa then leaving the room to fetch their supper and a beer… or two. Shelley was puzzled as the jerks threw her about. Just as well the gown and padding held her firmly but what was her hubby up to? It got quieter then… what was that… was someone speaking? She couldn’t work it out… WAIT A MINUTE… her mind screamed. That’s a TV commentator. She must be in the living room but STILL securely locked in the casket… this wasn’t fair! Mike was going to watch the match without her and Shelley smiled wryly as this was obviously his punishment for her getting stuck. A thumping from the lid and she paused. “Shelley love, your wine and supper are on the lid… now be a good girl and don’t knock them off! The End.

KittySlave

Thu, 25 Jun 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Part 1: Meeting Kitty

For years I have browsed model camming sites. I guess it adds to the regularity of looking up either porn stories from Grometsplaza, porn pictures or videos with the actuality of talking to a naked model. Years I have spent talking to many different women from many countries from the world, all talking about different subject matters that usually had something to do with sex. I had gotten familiar with a few and talked to them regularly and some of the models were a onetime only talk. It was fair to say that I soon found a subject matter that both interested me and the model for a nice conversation and that was bondage. Having an open mind, being a SWITCH and generally having an interest in any type of kink anyone spoke about allowed me to have a variety of conversations with the many models who had popped onto my screen.

Runners Make the Best Ponygirls

Thu, 10 Apr 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Authors Disclaimer: Everything that follows is fictitious, the events and people described are not real. Asphyxiation is dangerous and should not be attempted by anyone. If choking, asphyxiation, or breathplay does not interest you please do not continue reading!

Chapter 1: Taken

32 minutes 55 seconds and 8 milliseconds. Her foot struck the pavement, the pain lancing up her nerves. The blister’s covering her left and right feet squished with each step. 32 minutes 55 seconds and 8 milliseconds, she repeated. Her mouth opened, with a great gasping inhale her chest expanded, oxygen filling her lungs. A half second later her nostrils flared as the air inside her chest rushed to escape. 32 minutes 55 seconds and 8 milliseconds, she mouthed. Her calves burned, sending jolts of pain with each step. Her shins felt like thousands of cracks were crisscrossing the bone, each new step creating more. She could feel her shoulders starting to cramp. Desperately she tried to move her arms to alleviate the pain. 32 minutes 55 seconds and 8 milliseconds, she hated those numbers. Strands of curly brown hair clung to the perspiration that covered her face. The hair began to itch, she tried to ignore it frustration gripping her. Why couldn’t she think of something else anything just not 32 minutes 55 seconds and 8 milliseconds…..

Bound in the Woods

Sat, 09 Apr 2011 00:00:00 +0000

I have been fascinated by bondage since childhood and, while I’ve had a few amazing scenes with other people, I still greatly enjoy playing by myself. I have twenty acres of secluded forest with a small travel trailer parked in the middle and this is where I chose to go for this self bondage adventure.

It had been a while since my last session and I was definitely ready and was looking forward to something a little different. I decided that I would try outdoors rather than in the safety of my trailer.

Camera Shy

Wed, 02 Feb 2011 00:00:00 +0000

My friend Joan had a boyfriend named Dan who was a real outdoor kind of guy. The kind of guy who hunts and fishes with his buddies, but didn’t always spend as much time with Joan as she would have liked. Joan knew she was being selfish, but couldn’t help herself, or so she said. I don’t think she wanted to compete with dead fish and deer for Dan’s time.

Turmoil

Fri, 30 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

continued from part one

Part Two

Chapter 3: The Strangest Season

The text message confirmed what she had already guessed. Alex was going to be late. Really late, if she had understood things right. It was all over the news. Planes all over central Europe were delayed due to some terror threat again, and instead of waiting to see if the skies eventually would clear Alex had decided to go by train from Geneva to London. Not a bad idea, if only she had been lucky enough to catch one of the TGV:s, which she of course had not. It always seemed like the French had trouble keeping good ideas working in the long run, and now Niamh didn’t care if it was a strike or a glitch somewhere, what it meant was that she was going to have to spend most of the weekend alone.

Arnold Inside

Fri, 06 Feb 2009 00:00:00 +0000

After five years of pro football Arnold now owned a small chain of furniture stores and was doing rather well. He was sitting in the office that overlooked the sales floor when he noticed a tall beautiful blonde with the most gorgeous body he had ever seen looking at the furniture. He observed that there wasn’t anyone waiting on her and wondered where in hell that damn little clerk had gone, and what he was thinking about letting a woman like her browse alone.

The Audition

Sat, 20 Sep 2003 00:00:00 +0000

Casting Notice: Female (20-30 years old); Young wife/homemaker type for non-union national commercial. Must be under 5’2”, flexibility a must. Multiple spots, $20,000 buy out. Open call, bring photo/resume 134 King St. East. Saturday 9:30am

It almost seemed too good to be true. Michelle had come to the city six months ago, hoping to follow her dream of becoming an actress. In those six months, she’d lived in seedy apartments, worked crappy jobs, and had door after door slammed in her face. She couldn’t get into the union; she couldn’t even get an agent. It wasn’t that she wasn’t talented and she certainly had the look.

Afternoon in the Park

Mon, 08 Oct 2001 00:00:00 +0000

Here is a story written by my girlfriend. Most of the bondage is based on stuff she has already done, although the ending is pure fiction. I hope you like it. “Leviticus” (Sadly both Maria & Leviticus are no longer with us).

My name is Maria, and I want to tell you about an elaborate piece of self bondage I managed to pull off a few weeks ago. It was during a time when we actually got some warm weather up here in the north country. I do a lot of self bondage at home and had been planning this one for months, just waiting for a good time to do it. When the forecast for the weekend was for 90+ temperatures, I knew that the time had come at last.

The Babe Bomb

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

“The Major will see you now.”

“About time.” Rising from his chair James Watson strode towards the door leading to Major Franklin’s private office. Stepping in, he glared at the major.

“What in hell,” he asked coldly, “do you think you were doing?”

“Professor Watson,” Franklin replied smoothly, “I always know precisely what I’m doing. I do what needs to be done.”

“And that includes breaking into my lab? Stealing my work?”

The Chaperone's Apprentice 2

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

(story continues from The Chaperone’s Apprentice)

Part 2

Ms Westbury looked up from her big desk in the bay window as Cecilia put down a cup of coffee. She waved a letter.

“It is high time that you planned and executed an assignment yourself. We have been asked to carry out a little job that will be an ideal for you to do solo. Pull up a chair and I will tell you about it”.

The Secret Life of Rica 3: Essential Research

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

(story continues from The Secret Life of Rica)

Chapter 3: Essential Research

The next morning, like the hungry caterpillar, Erica felt much better. She took the new pills Belling had prescribed on schedule and went down for breakfast. What a waste of time, they were probably placebos anyway.

Her cupboard was empty so she helped herself to Bea’s milk and cereals. Bea seemed to be in a hurry to push food onto her, so why not? As for Bea herself, mercifully there was no trace of her.

What Amber Saw 2: What Amber Did

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

story continued from part one

Part 2: What Amber Did

“You mean it’s really that simple,” Amber asked?

Dawn nodded. “And the escape is quite often easier. As long as you plan it right. It’s the waiting that is the killer. Sometimes minutes feel like hours when you are tied up and helpless.”

The two blondes had returned to Dawn’s room, Amber’s clothes were neatly folded on the bed next to Dawn’s. No sense in being modest, not after what had happened this afternoon. What Amber had not known earlier was that Dawn’s digital camera was taking pictures automatically.