<?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>Cons: X on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/cons-x/</link><description>Recent content in Cons: X on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 03 Dec 2016 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/cons-x/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Fun at the Far 2: Happy Puppym</title><link>/stories/2016/12/03/fun-at-the-far-2-happy-puppym/</link><pubDate>Sat, 03 Dec 2016 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2016/12/03/fun-at-the-far-2-happy-puppym/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continues from &lt;a href="funatthefarm.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2: Happy Puppy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The night was quiet. The cool night air from the ventilation window made me shiver in my chains. &amp;lsquo;If she only left me a blanket&amp;hellip;&amp;rsquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Hanna was away for an hour, and by that time, I had imagined all the possible scenarios what I could think of. From the one where she ties me to her bed and uses me whenever she likes, to one where I live in a dog pen, eating and drinking twice a day from a bowl and sleeping inside of a small dog house.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Fun at the Farm</title><link>/stories/2016/11/07/fun-at-the-farm/</link><pubDate>Mon, 07 Nov 2016 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2016/11/07/fun-at-the-farm/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 1: Betrayal&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;**********&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;lsquo;Is it coming closer? Why would anyone come here this time? And who it is?&amp;rsquo; were the primary thoughts what circled through my mind. The rough gravel road, leading to the yard of my grandmothers farm, scrunched under some ones feet.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It was late evening, about 9:30 pm. I was lying on my left side in a dark room of an old house, The Old Cottage. Completely naked, only wearing sunglasses and chains. Bound by my own hand. Waiting for the sun to rise. Expecting my real challenge to start after several hours. And definitely not expecting any visitors.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Lori’s Self Bondage</title><link>/stories/2012/12/24/loris-self-bondage/</link><pubDate>Mon, 24 Dec 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/12/24/loris-self-bondage/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Authors note: This short story is a small segment of a much longer series, &amp;ldquo;Loving, Consensual, Strict&amp;rdquo;, that will be posted to Boundstories.net&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Loving, Consensual, Strict - Lori&amp;rsquo;s Self-Bondage&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Josh and Tito had gone to a ballgame the following Saturday afternoon; Lori didn’t know where Alexis was. Lori hadn’t exercised her love of self-bondage in quite some time; Josh usually ‘helped her out’. With a full afternoon ahead of her, Lori decided that now would be a great time to tie herself up and tease herself to distraction.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>