<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Cement on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/cement/</link><description>Recent content in Cement on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:47 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/cement/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Ink and Concrete</title><link>/stories/2019/06/18/ink-and-concrete/</link><pubDate>Tue, 18 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/06/18/ink-and-concrete/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;She couldn&amp;rsquo;t stand it. Even if someone else was getting one, she had to leave the room. The sight of the needle, the disturbing, buzzing sound, not to mention the occasional blood. And of course the pain. God, it MUST hurt. Her father always reassured her that it wasn&amp;rsquo;t &amp;ldquo;that big a deal&amp;rdquo;, but she could never comprehend how people willingly did this. Her father&amp;rsquo;s tattoo shop had blossomed throughout the years into a profitable enterprise, with more than a few sub-joints opening in nearby cities. Jennifer Saw loved her dad, despite never getting the appeal of his practice, and she was grateful for the comfortable life his tattooing business had offered her.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>A Balance Struck</title><link>/stories/2018/01/11/a-balance-struck/</link><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jan 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/01/11/a-balance-struck/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;You wake up as you feel the pleasant tingle of electricity stimulating your cock. You&amp;rsquo;re already hard as the stimulation slowly builds. Waves of electrical pleasure flow through your member as they grow stronger and faster.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;You don&amp;rsquo;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&amp;rsquo;t thrust to increase the stimulation. You can&amp;rsquo;t even turn your head because it too is held perfectly still inside of the tight hood that surrounds it.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Art Exhibit</title><link>/stories/2017/08/17/art-exhibit/</link><pubDate>Thu, 17 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/08/17/art-exhibit/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Laras immortal adventures.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The day to day boredom has officially started to get to me. I spend most of my days pacing my apartment back and forth trying to think of something to do. I haven&amp;rsquo;t needed to work ever since I became immortal 3 years ago. Though I do occasionally like to eat out every now and again. Fast food wasn&amp;rsquo;t necessarily cheap but it was definitely worth it. I was making my way back into the living room when my cell phone rang. It lit up with a picture of my best friend Anna.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>On the 29th</title><link>/stories/2017/08/04/on-the-29th/</link><pubDate>Fri, 04 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/08/04/on-the-29th/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Simple things can trigger happy memories, for Jill, it’s the sound of a key in a lock, until now.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;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&amp;rsquo;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&amp;rsquo;s heart.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>On the 29th</title><link>/stories/2017/08/04/on-the-29th/</link><pubDate>Fri, 04 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/08/04/on-the-29th/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;WARNING Do &lt;strong&gt;NOT&lt;/strong&gt; try this at home, the story is presented here as a &lt;strong&gt;fantasy only&lt;/strong&gt;,
to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;entry in plaza forum story contest spring 2017&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Simple things can trigger happy memories, for Jill, it’s the sound of a key in a lock, until now.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;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&amp;rsquo;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&amp;rsquo;s heart.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Burial</title><link>/stories/2017/05/04/the-burial/</link><pubDate>Thu, 04 May 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/05/04/the-burial/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;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&amp;hellip; 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&amp;rsquo;t be hard to hide a grave/body. It&amp;rsquo;s probably why some people are never found. Mind you they could also have been taken by Aliens, but that doesn&amp;rsquo;t happen here &lt;img alt=";)" loading="lazy" src="http://forum.grometsplaza.net/Smileys/default/wink.gif" title="Wink"&gt;. The couple chose a remote town in Victoria called Donald, and set the burial site near Lake Buloke (Google Map this and you&amp;rsquo;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&amp;rsquo;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&amp;hellip;
The boot (trunk) opened&amp;hellip;
&amp;ldquo;I thought you&amp;rsquo;d like some fresh air&amp;rdquo; Steve mocked.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Sticky Situation</title><link>/stories/2014/01/29/sticky-situation/</link><pubDate>Wed, 29 Jan 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/01/29/sticky-situation/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I’ve always loved bondage, whether it be rope, plastic, or any other kind, but my favorite has always been self bondage. The kind that you do to yourself for pleasure, or for pain. I ’ve recently been having this fantasy of being encased in concrete, completely immobilized, being forced to wait for someone to rescue me. I played this fantasy out in my mind until one day, the opportunity presented its self and I took a chance.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Box</title><link>/stories/2013/09/05/the-box/</link><pubDate>Thu, 05 Sep 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/09/05/the-box/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;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&amp;rsquo;t help but feel sad that I wouldn&amp;rsquo;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&amp;rsquo;t believed someone like her existed. But after many months of conversation, we finally met, and I realized that she was for real.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>What You See is Not Always What You Get Part 3</title><link>/stories/2011/01/09/what-you-see-is-not-always-what-you-get-part-3/</link><pubDate>Sun, 09 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2011/01/09/what-you-see-is-not-always-what-you-get-part-3/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="whatyouseeisnotalwayswhatyouget2.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What You See is Not Always What You Get Part 2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Part Three&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Our last date was certainly a major step forward in the realm of kink for us both. I had a hard time trying to think of how Dee was going to top that one, but somehow, I knew that eventually she would.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The next Friday evening the phone rang. Dee called and asked me to come over tomorrow, and bring some carpentry tools as she had something that needed to be done with wood. Not a problem, I told her. I would be there at 10AM.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Curiosity</title><link>/stories/2010/05/03/curiosity/</link><pubDate>Mon, 03 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2010/05/03/curiosity/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Chrissie peered around the corner
at the van in the alley. She was pretty sure it was the same van as before,
the one that had been there right before her neighbor Vanessa disappeared. As
the van pulled away, Chrissie considered calling the police. She didn&amp;rsquo;t really
have any evidence, just intuition, so she figured the cops would blow her off
unless she had something more substantial.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She ran to her car and began following
the van, deciding to give up if it headed to a bad neighborhood. On the contrary,
the van headed for the ritzy part of town. It pulled into a driveway with a
gate, which closed behind it.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Curiosity</title><link>/stories/2010/05/03/curiosity/</link><pubDate>Mon, 03 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2010/05/03/curiosity/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Chrissie peered around the corner
at the van in the alley. She was pretty sure it was the same van as before,
the one that had been there right before her neighbor Vanessa disappeared. As
the van pulled away, Chrissie considered calling the police. She didn&amp;rsquo;t really
have any evidence, just intuition, so she figured the cops would blow her off
unless she had something more substantial.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She ran to her car and began following
the van, deciding to give up if it headed to a bad neighborhood. On the contrary,
the van headed for the ritzy part of town. It pulled into a driveway with a
gate, which closed behind it.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Cycle</title><link>/stories/2010/01/30/the-cycle/</link><pubDate>Sat, 30 Jan 2010 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2010/01/30/the-cycle/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;FROM THE CASE NOTES OF DETECTIVE INSPECTOR JOHN BOTHAM&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The one that affected me most was Lucy Owen.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I was on the trail of a serial killer who called himself The Cycle.  He had already killed at least four women before I became involved in the case and managed two more since, each time following up with typed notes to the station full of sick, sexist, pompous psycho-babble about the cycle of life, the submissive role of his victims, how we wouldn’t catch him, yada yada, the usual stuff.  His methods had varied, but were getting noticeably more theatrical with each murder; his earliest victims had been simply kidnapped and strangled, but later on he had developed a taste for more extravagant schemes, though asphyxiation of one kind or another was always the final killer, whether by drowning, smothering or even hanging.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Cycle</title><link>/stories/2010/01/30/the-cycle/</link><pubDate>Sat, 30 Jan 2010 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2010/01/30/the-cycle/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;FROM THE CASE NOTES OF DETECTIVE INSPECTOR JOHN BOTHAM&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The one that affected me most was Lucy Owen.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I was on the trail of a serial killer who called himself The Cycle.  He had already killed at least four women before I became involved in the case and managed two more since, each time following up with typed notes to the station full of sick, sexist, pompous psycho-babble about the cycle of life, the submissive role of his victims, how we wouldn’t catch him, yada yada, the usual stuff.  His methods had varied, but were getting noticeably more theatrical with each murder; his earliest victims had been simply kidnapped and strangled, but later on he had developed a taste for more extravagant schemes, though asphyxiation of one kind or another was always the final killer, whether by drowning, smothering or even hanging.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Buried Alive</title><link>/stories/2008/01/02/buried-alive/</link><pubDate>Wed, 02 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2008/01/02/buried-alive/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;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 &amp;amp; control over someone, the act of putting them into the ground &amp;amp; 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.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Buried Alive</title><link>/stories/2008/01/02/buried-alive/</link><pubDate>Wed, 02 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2008/01/02/buried-alive/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;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 &amp;amp; control over someone, the act of putting them into the ground &amp;amp; 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.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Equal Sentence</title><link>/stories/2007/11/12/equal-sentence/</link><pubDate>Mon, 12 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/11/12/equal-sentence/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Sam Johnson stared at the letter in his hand:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;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&amp;rsquo;t come home on time. We&amp;rsquo;re going to keep Sarah for as long as Jimmy is behind bars. According to the judge, that&amp;rsquo;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&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Equal Sentence</title><link>/stories/2007/11/12/equal-sentence/</link><pubDate>Mon, 12 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/11/12/equal-sentence/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Sam Johnson stared at the letter in his hand:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;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&amp;rsquo;t come home on time. We&amp;rsquo;re going to keep Sarah for as long as Jimmy is behind bars. According to the judge, that&amp;rsquo;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&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Box</title><link>/stories/2007/11/12/the-box/</link><pubDate>Mon, 12 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/11/12/the-box/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;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&amp;rsquo;t help but feel sad that I wouldn&amp;rsquo;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&amp;rsquo;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&amp;quot;, 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.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Just Another Day at Work 2</title><link>/stories/2006/09/25/just-another-day-at-work-2/</link><pubDate>Mon, 25 Sep 2006 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2006/09/25/just-another-day-at-work-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continues from &lt;a href="just_another_day.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part Two&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Inside the shipping crate and within her
animal carrier, Julia was doing her best not to panic. But considering how she was blind, wrapped up and helpless, managing to
avoid panicking was a very difficult task indeed.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Knowing that it was useless to struggle,
she didn&amp;rsquo;t even try, though her every instinct was telling her to do so. &amp;ldquo;&lt;em&gt;Okay, calm down. Calm down.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/em&gt; She
thought. &lt;em&gt;&amp;ldquo;You can figure this
out. You can get out of here okay. The most important thing right now is to keep your cool and not panic&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Do you want to Continue?</title><link>/stories/2002/06/25/do-you-want-to-continue/</link><pubDate>Tue, 25 Jun 2002 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2002/06/25/do-you-want-to-continue/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;It&amp;rsquo;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&amp;rsquo;s made
just for her drawing gooseflesh on her skin. Dawn and Teri, Toran&amp;rsquo;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.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Robotic Demise</title><link>/stories/2002/04/18/robotic-demise/</link><pubDate>Thu, 18 Apr 2002 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2002/04/18/robotic-demise/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;General warning: This is fiction, if you believe this is true then your
sick, don’t try this at home, could cause serious damage to your life.
But could be beneficial to your life mate {I&amp;gt;E&amp;gt; wife/husband}&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I had finished working at cyber labs for the weekend, and I had four
days off. I was driving home feeling quite happy with the days I had planned
for myself, I had planned for this all month and finally it was here for
the first time to run the program. I pulled up into my humble little house,
ready to start my adventure. Not many people knew my thrills of danger
and mayhem that took on the form of self bondage and those that did thought
I was a freak. Well let them think what they want, all the more fun for
me. I entered the house proper, and set everything that I needed to finish
the project I had created on the kitchen table. All I had to do now was
finish the assembly. I took my stuff down into the basement and set them
outside my briefcase on the floor in front of the monster I had created.
To me it was beautiful, weighing three tons, with fifteen arms and several
other devices, it would be a great Dominater. I started work on it right
away; I wanted to have fun with it as soon as possible.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Sculptress &amp; Art</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/sculptress-art/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/sculptress-art/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Julie woke up, groggy and wondering where she was.  The last thing
she remembered, she and her roommate Kirsten had just gotten into Julie&amp;rsquo;s
car to drive home from a movie, and Kirsten remarked that she smelled something
funny.  Now Julie was here.  The room she was in was about 8
feet square, with 3 featureless walls.  The fourth wall had a small
niche in which was a basin about 2 feet square.  Several bags of cement
mix were stacked in the corner near the basin.  In the center of the
room was a large metal x-frame, to which Kirsten was attached, naked.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>