Entomb on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Shared Existence

Sat, 11 May 2024 00:00:00 +0000

There’s a certain pattern to these stories sometimes. A brilliant scientist, a kinky couple, a shared interest in extreme bondage.

It just so happens that this is another of those tales.

The brilliant scientist with the kink was Dr Kayleigh Maddox. She was a leading expert in the field of brain patterns. Young, beautiful and sexy. She’d been working for years now on a way to transfer human consciousness. She’d succeeded with other animals but she was now ready to go with a human brain.

Captured and Broken

Sun, 28 May 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Part Two

I am awoken from my slumber by the guards as they unstrapped the spreader bar from my leather ankles. Ilsa removes the ball gag from my mouth and inserts a cigarette between my lips and lights it for me. I take a drag and blow smoke out of my mouth, feeling relaxed. The guards unhooked the chain from the armbinder as Ilsa unstrapped the straps on the armbinder and slid off my arms.

Alice's Halloween Adventure

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

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

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

A Mother and Her Daughters

Sun, 08 Mar 2020 00:00:00 +0000

Ten palace guards escorted the five women through the palace courtyard, two guards flanking each. A voluptuous mother and her four nubile daughters, each was a perfect specimen of classic Egyptian beauty, with long-flowing, raven hair, well tanned skin, and pomegranate lips. They were dressed in gauzy, white gowns that showed off their figures and wore sandals on their feet. It was a bright day with the sun high in the noon sky, but these women had grim expressions on their faces and hung their heads low. Their arms were bound behind their backs in golden shackles, and golden leg irons on their ankles prevented them from taking a full stride or running.

Directrix Phantom Versus Evil Ancient Pharaoh

Thu, 12 Dec 2019 00:00:00 +0000

She sat at her desk in her office at MirageCorp Headquarters, watching the large view screen across the room. One of the secretaries, a cute blonde with a ponytail, was on the floor under her feet, bound in a black latex bondage bag and a bright red ball gag in her mouth. Directrix Phantom picked up the remote and turned up the volume. On screen, a young, dark brown-haired reporter stood with a WHU News microphone in hand as bright lights shown on her in the dark.

Mental Ward

Sat, 26 Oct 2019 00:00:00 +0000

It was the fall of 69

Phebe was expecting a new script to be delivered at any time.

The phone rings

Hi, Phebe, it’s Purcilla,

Oh hi, Pru what’s up? I’m bored with nothing to do.

Why don’t come over I just got my new movie script, A Halloween Horror Film this time.

Ok, I’ll be there soon.

Wow! this script is scary Phebe.!! I know, but there is a problem. The location where do the producers find an old Mental Hospital. Why not suggest the old Mental Hospital in the next county.

The Test

Sat, 24 Aug 2019 00:00:00 +0000

50 million dollars, that’s what Daniell will inherit on her twenty-fifth birthday. Her Uncle left his estate to her if she could pass an endurance test. If she fails, then she will get a modest living expense and the rest will go to her Evil Aunt, Evil Aunt Jane is what Daniell called her when she was growing up, For the things she did to her Uncle so long ago. Something to do with Money and Fraud against her Uncle, and kidnapping and tormenting her Aunt for ransom. She went to jail for it.

Heather in the Highlands

Mon, 21 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part two

Part 3. Chapter 1. He had to check. To see whether the ghosts had done their magic or not. Only James had felt guilty at not having told Heather that he’d made imprints of the keys before tossing the originals down the vent. That’d had been the worst part of the whole thing for him. The symbolism of throwing those keys away thus imprisoning her for all time. So now six months after he’d attended her ‘funeral,’ along with his parents in Ft William, he was actually going to see if her body needed to be disposed of. It was a hot October afternoon and he’d packed a picnic, planning to… well hoping to share it with her. Arriving at Claggan his heart was already pounding, the same way it always did on sighting the ruin, but as today he was going inside this was different and in a way he didn’t know whether to continue. If she was dead, then so be it, but if Heather really was alive… that might cause more problems for both of them. He had enough to deal with at the moment already. Most times he’d just driven past on his way to the peatbeds. Only the first, the occasion when all three of the family had been present to witness James scattering the ‘ashes’ Kelvin had provided did his parents see just how much he’d thought of Miss McCreadie. They’d arrived back from Aberdeen the night before the funeral, not even knowing she’d ‘died’. Only his devastated face greeting them had silenced the pair. June’s plan to show him the delightful pictures of their newest arrival were halted. The three had travelled to Ft William for the service and only then, talking to Janice did Kelvin find out from the concocted story they’d agreed on that Heather had ‘died’ in James’ arms the week before. He pledged right then to look after the lad as best he could during the following months. His boy had been grief-stricken at first but used time to work off his sorrow and the farm would prosper as a result. The photo of Miss McCreadie taken by him up the tower at Claggan Castle during that first magical holiday then made an appearance in his bedroom. Anytime he needed space away from the farm he would tell the others he was off to visit ‘Heather’s place’ Today he was going to see if she was really there! Parking up he grabbed torches and stuff then went downstairs, pleased to see the place was as he’d expected. Even the manacle room was intact, though he knew where the keys were for those ones. Spraying oil onto the hatch chain James hauled up on it. The massive lump slowly rising up to the side. James quietly eased the two wedges into place to support it then nervously approached the first of the locked doors. Sliding the key into the lock he prayed it’d work, sighing with relief as it clicked and so the bolts followed and James went through, doing the same to the second door and finally he stood outside Heather’s cell. Sniffing the air and relieved there was no smell of decaying corpse. He looked through the bars, the candles burning as before and he saw… Chapter 2. Ever since those keys had rattled down the pipe Heather McCreadie had prayed like never before for something to happen. The first night being the worst as the ghosts never came for her. She’d felt really grim, stomach cramping, lungs burning her alive and at one point Heather begged for something to take her away from this before passing out. So was surprised to wake later with only a slight pain running through her body. Had they been after all? With no sense of time Heather worked on ‘sleeps,’ using a nail and scratching lines into the wall above her bed. Like in cartoons of prisoners ticking off the ‘days-til-release’. Though the thought that she’d never leave here had driven Miss McCreadie into hysterics at one point on her seventh period of ‘wake’ as she called it. Smashing her fists into the wall, tugging the restraining bolt there then trying to get the chain off her collar. But James’ handiwork was too good so another ‘day of despair’ began for the girl. By ‘wake’ ten she no longer ached, in fact Heather felt quite good. Starting to realise she was putting some weight on again. If only she’d got James to leave her sandwiches or something else instead of just biscuits and cake. “Guess he assumes I’ll be dead by now instead of almost cured!” she grumbled. “I wonder what my ‘funeral’ was like?” a faint grin in the darkness of her humour. The ghosts came for her days later as she lay there. Though at first Heather thought she was dreaming as her blanket drew back and the dress came up. Looking down however she saw it really moving and she smiled as it got to work. Minutes later she was squealing in ecstasy as it brought her off into one hell of an orgasm. So maybe things weren’t so bad if this kept happening. Occasionally she’d lose it and tug at her chains but the girl had eventually resigned herself to her situation. So she lived on regardless, doing limited twisting and bending exercises because of the wrist cuffs, shuffling up and down the cell but the girl couldn’t complain. She was the one who’d asked James to put her down here, if ONLY he hadn’t obeyed her last request and toss the keys down the vent. He’d assured Heather they were the only ones and she believed that to be true as he’d promised never to lie to her. Her current ‘day’ dream continued, hearing quiet footsteps in the corridor and the squeak of a bolt at her cell door, then the lock clicked so she smiled and opened her eyes to see… A FACE AT THE BARS! Heather scrambled off the bed, her eyes widening as the door creaked open and James slowly walked in. Stunned she was alive, and looking like the first day he’d seen her last year. That beautiful face back to normal, paler in the candlelight, but currently with a look of utter shock on it. “Hello honey, I’m back,” he said as she gaped. “JAMES!” she squealed, bursting into tears and he came closer, wrapping the girl in his arms. Thrilled she was all right and he savoured the feelings he’d thought he’d never have again. Their lips meeting for a kiss then he ruffled her hair. They stayed like that for ages before she gently pushed him away and sat down on her bed. “The keys you put down the vent, you said those were the only ones, how did you get in?” she said at last, a note of what to him sounded like annoyance or accusation in her voice. He looked surprised at her tone, then realised she was naturally struggling to comprehend what was happening. “Well… at the time they were,” he said, looking a little sheepish. “But I didn’t say I’d made imprints into clay beforehand, then had new ones made. So I didn’t lie, just… bent the truth somewhat,” and she smiled a little as he carried on. “I had to know one way or another about you. Heather love, I cared so much for you and now I know you’re alive I’ll promise I always will. Besides you are looking rather good today.” Heather smiled at that, lifting her legs up and showing him she was still manacled as before. “Yeah, it’s been a struggle. But my ghostly friends eventually did their stuff… so it appears I’m cured… or at least in remission or whatever it’s called. No aches or pains anywhere,” she said and looked down at her wrists. “However buddy I’d be a lot better if you took these off please, or at least cut the link,” Heather asked, waving arms indicating the chain between them, the same for her legs. “Going to the bucket is bloody difficult, especially in this dress. I nearly tipped the damn thing over one day overbalancing.” He grinned at her and she looked pained at first, then smiled as he said he’d cut them. How he’d get the actual cuffs off her limbs would have to be worked out. Somehow he’d get her next door into the workshop. But how to do it while she was still chained to the wall as he knew the ’link’ to the castle must not be broken… and that began to worry him. Did Heather realise this yet? Heather waited nervously as James went to fetch his bolt-cutters, happy that soon she’d be able to get outside and her body tingled with anticipation. He returned, telling her to sit down so he could start with her ankles. “Why? Fancy having a little… once I can open them wide enough?” she chuckled and he went red. “No, well maybe later once I know you’re OK,” he replied, telling her to be patient. James positioned himself and snipped through the second loop from the manacle itself. The first would need to remain intact for the snaplocks. Another snip and the chain dropped away with a clatter. Heather raised one leg on its own, then the other before standing up. “Nice, now do my wrists so I can give you a great BIG bearhug.” He did so, letting the link that’d bound her fall away and Heather groaned, as she was able to flex both shoulders’ independently. Swinging her arms for a moment. “C’mer,” she giggled and wrapped herself around, hugging him tight, both of them starting to cry as they held on. After a while of this they dried up, James wiping away her tears before she sat down and held the chain by her collar. “Last one,” she grinned, that fading on seeing him place the boltcutters on the bed well away from where they should be heading. James looked painfully at her then shook his head. “I’m sorry love. But I cannot do that one, if I cut it love, you’ll probably die and… I’m not prepared to risk that,” he said at last. Heather McCreadie was stunned into silence. Her mouth flapping open in disbelief. “But you MUST!” she finally squealed, tugging the chain, staring at him, her eyes wider than he’d ever seen before. The girl getting to her feet and going to the wall. Placing both hands near the bolt and pulling as best she could, begging him to do the last cut then take her home to Braemore. James had to stop her, grabbing the lassie and spinning Heather around, forcing her against the stonework, holding both wrists high above her head and pressing himself against her. Unfortunately he was not used to dealing with pretty girls in dresses, thinking the restrictive length of her outfit would stop any kicking. Forgetting that Heather’s ankles were free and she made him pay. A well-placed knee missed his crown jewels by a fraction, bouncing off his thigh but still making James wince. “That’s enough missy, settle down,” he snapped as she tried that again, really struggling and crying but helpless in his grip. She tried a different tack, attempting a head-butt that only just missed and he lost control. Quickly letting go of an arm he slapped Heather’s face as hard as he’d do with errant livestock. The blow stunned her but did the trick. A flaming imprint of his fingers on her cheek and she stopped struggling, but James was not in the mood to cease. Dragging Heather to the bed and throwing her on, then he mounted her and pinned the girl down, his face inches from hers. “Now stop it, or I’m gonna leave you, understand?” he barked, “Down here, alone, afraid, locked in your collar, the doors and hatch secured and me gone for ever. Do you want that, or shall I try to help you?” he said. The last bit quieter as he could see how terrified she’d become. Heather’s tearstained face looked up at him but knowing he was right was still devastating for her when she’d thought it’d soon be over. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as he let go, getting off and allowing her to sit up then embrace him. “But you must see… it’s been such a nightmare down here… I didn’t want to continue living. Yes I was alone and afraid, so please don’t taunt me!” her voice getting angry again. However seeing him starting to glare at her she moderated the tone, afraid he’d abandon her after all. “I… at one point I really wanted to die and be done with it,” she said but stopped on seeing him stiffen. His hands gripped hers tight enough to hurt but Heather was amazed when he started to cry instead. “Please love, please never say that, after what I’ve just been through,” he wept and now it was her turn to hold on as he then told the girl something that appalled her. “Barely a fortnight ago I had to attend two more funerals. My best friends Gary and Martin. Both of them fellow farming mates’ killed in a tractor crash on the Ullapool road a week or so before. Drunk-driving trucker ploughed headfirst into them. I was following with Kelvin and saw the whole thing. We rushed to help but once there saw it was hopeless and we needed proper cutting gear rather than trying ourselves. Running back to ours to phone for the rescue guys we were fifty yards away when the whole lot blew up.” Heather gasped at that, clutching his hands as the guy trembled. Hearing those screams echoing again in his head as people died in agony. “Imagine how you’d have felt losing Janice and one of the others and seeing it happen?” he continued. “Now I know you’re alive love, then I… I can try to save you when I couldn’t rescue my friends. Will that do? I’m promising you now Heather that I’ll do my best to make life here more comfortable. But you in turn must realise that you simply cannot leave… ever. Remember, according to records you’re officially dead anyway. These ghosts here have given you a wonderful second chance that my Gaz and Marz will never get, OK?” Both of them were now in tears and he apologised for losing his rag and she nodded, stroking his face, kissing him tenderly as he simmered down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” James man enough to accept what she said, cuddling her body until she’d settled. Chapter 3. To change the subject Heather asked about Jenna’s baby, remembering she’d been due. Astonished to find the young Hollie Louise was nearly six months old. Her eyes watered at the fact she’d never be able to have a child herself, also shocked at how long she’d already been incarcerated here and it shook her up, James stroking to calm her again with a kiss for good measure. “Louise, that’s nice. It was… well is my middle name too,” she said softly. James nodded. “I know, Jen asked me to suggest one and rather than being too corny or obvious, I said Louise instead, they liked it so H-L she became. Think Kelvin and June are aware of my reasoning, and they don’t mind. But what they’d say if they knew I was here talking to the real ‘Lou’ I dread to think.” They both chuckled at that. James also saying that Jen had finally decided to clear out her wardrobes, purging at Braemore and her place in Aberdeen. “Four bloody great bags of gear going to charity shops or the dump. Do you want any of them before I junk the rest?” She agreed and he said he’d bring the whole lot next weekend for her to rummage through. “I think your ’naughty nightie’ is in there!” he grinned and Heather blushed SO red. There were some spare blankets at home he’d fetch as well. The guy wasn’t sure how cold it’d get down here. Heather saying so far the temperature seemed to remain constant and was comfortable enough but she’d appreciate extra protection. However he did warn her that there may be the odd time due to bad weather when he’d have to miss a couple of visits. The last few winters hadn’t been that bad for snowfall but she needed to be prepared. “Well I got through the first six months alright. So we’ll see about that when it comes.” Getting a rub as James knew how hard this was for her. He announced plans to ‘chain-up’ the corridor thus it would allow Heather to move around her floor. She could use snaplocks on those loose loops of the manacles and get from room to room without breaking the ’link’. Though having realised what this might mean she paused and asked him to do the whole place instead! “There’s plenty of chain lengths still next door, isn’t there?” James went into the workshop and looked at the racks, measuring lengths with his eyes. She was right and as he was a member of the Mountain Rescue team now he had a whole box of climbing snaplocks in the jeep. So he came back and told her, seeing Heather’s eyes light up. “It’d mean I could even go… upstairs… beyond the hatch, couldn’t I?” she said, nervously hoping… “Yep. I’ve got no problem with that. Do you good to get some daylight love,” he replied and she rushed forward and gave him a hug. Over the next two hours he did a great job. Banging spikes into walls and affixing cables to them. Returning to Heather and saying it was all done as she’d asked. There was enough slack for them to overlap so she could clip one ankle to the next length before undoing the first but now she could get to the main door. “But you MUST check before moving on. This is so important honey, I wouldn’t want to lose you now,” he said and she nodded, getting a reassuring kiss. The closest one stretched from the first corridor barrier right into her cell though James warned her each length weighed a lot. “Keep me exercised then,” she grinned, holding the snaplock. Heather clipped it to her leg and checked it was secure, showing James the little tab was across. Then he came close with the boltcutters and she held the neckchain, allowing him to pause, then snip the loop. “Oh goodness that’s better!” Miss McCreadie exclaimed as the weight dropped off and she could relax, letting the chain go with a clatter as it fell to the floor. “Yep, I’m fine. No dizziness love” she said having paused to see. James smiled as he fitted a snaplock to the end, saying as these shouldn’t undo she’d be OK. But put the ankle one on as well when sleeping ‘just in case’ one came off. Heather agreed before giving him a kiss of thanks. Then heading for the door, nervously peering out of the cell before stepping into the corridor. She didn’t bother teasing James by locking him in but paced herself to the staircase, managing not to trip over on the chain, though the drag was considerable as he’d warned. Arriving at the bottom she looked up, feeling a breeze on her face but didn’t go further despite the next length from above being there ready for her. James came up behind, sliding hands round her waist. “You going on up?” he asked, surprised when Heather said no. “Guess I’m scared, OK?” and that got her a kiss and stroke before they went back to her room and sat on the bed for another cuddle. “So what do the ghosts do to you now you’re OK?” he asked. Fascinated at her reply about the sexual side, seeing her eyes close and a warm smile at the memories. Opening in amazement when he asked would the ghosts do the same for him? “Hardly likely James, for a start you’re not chained to the wall by any means, no collar or manacles.” He sat there mulling things over. “If I mounted a new one and chain near to yours. Then did my wrists and legs, I wonder?” He got up and went next door, seeing what was left, then returned carrying a whole lot of stuff that was dumped on the bed. Even asking her permission before knocking the spike in. James felt foolish, as an idea of wearing restraints just to see how Heather felt seemed ridiculous. But he’d issued the challenge and Miss McCreadie was accepting it. The girl however also said he’d ’look so sweet all dolled up in a frock’ and that made him splutter as she pointed to her outfit. “No I didn’t mean that as well,” but she said no. “The only way they’ll do it is if you’re wearing the dress and lying down, remember there should be a second in the casket. Go and fetch it and we’ll see.” The guy went upstairs to the casket and opened it. Dragging out the two grey dresses then finding the last at the bottom. Rolling it up and returning downstairs to see her grinning broadly at him. So the fact Heather was needling him made things worse as she examined it closely. “Yep, I think you’ll fit” She held it open and he took it off her, trying to remember how she did things. Planting one foot into the middle, then the other before lifting the front bit up; surprised at how heavy it was. “Not bad,” she chuckled as he got the robe to his waist, then reached an arm deep down into the sleeve before she helped James do the other and shrug himself into it. It was a better fit than he thought, snug round the arms as the girl went around the back and started doing the hooks-and-eyes, telling him to breath in a bit as it was hard to do him up. “You’ve put a little timber on, yes?” and James admitted he had. “Too much breakfast at home. Even June’s been on at me,” he chuckled. Heather smiling, “Yeah, toast, it’d make a change from cake and biscuits, even choccy ones,” and they both laughed at that.

Heather in the Highlands

Mon, 21 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part one

Part 2.

Chapter 1 The ghosts had tormented Heather to the most wonderful orgasms and she lay exhausted on the bed after the last cleaning session. She had no idea of the time now. It felt like she’d been here ages yet her water supply had hardly been touched. The girl sure she’d finished one of the bottles. But they were both full, so was her biscuit box and that was curious knowing she’d eaten all the choccy ones within hours of the hatch going down. Even her waste bucket didn’t smell though clearly she’d used it, the level of antiseptic not changed from when James had filled it. She jumped on hearing the chain start to rush, knowing James had returned, and for a moment she was disappointed that he’d come to free her. Eventually the doors clattered open and he was there. Dressed as usual, carrying a clear bag containing what looked like the dress she’d worn yesterday. Coming close as she got up, the pair embracing, Heather trying not to cry as his lips met hers. This night had been so special and now freedom… if she wanted it. She paused when James asked her, then to his relief she nodded. For a moment he had a daft idea that she’d ‘gone’ in the head and wanted to remain here for longer. But she began to strip off the dress, folding it up then getting into the modern stuff he’d brought. Finally stepping into the heels and saying she’d like to go ‘home’. He didn’t offer to bind her, and they held hands all the way to the jeep. That evening lying in James’ bed having had a refreshing bath, the girl again wearing Jen’s nightie she told him what had happened. The ghosts had come for her, thus proving the theory about the spirits. “It was fun, I’ll be a little sore for ages but I was right though. Strangely it’s given me a lot of energy too. Sounds silly but I feel my batteries had been running down the last few months, now I’m fine again.” He smiled in the darkness and asked her just how much energy she had, the fact she could ‘hear’ him smiling at the loaded question was enough and her hands reached for his shorts. “Enough to give you a shock matey,” she grinned as their lips met, his hands easing the dress up. It was a very tearful Heather McCreadie who bid James goodbye next morning. She knew time was passing and she had to get home to Ft William, though they promised to keep in touch. Kelvin and June arrived the following evening and found the lad busy in the yard, though he seemed a little distracted. But as he’d been alone for the last week since Heather and the other couple had gone they left him to it. That night he was in the office when Kelvin said Heather was on the telephone. He managed to control his emotions as he came in quickly to speak to her, that lovely voice echoing down the line, the girl saying she’d safely arrived back in Ft William and thanking him for what he’d done. Kelvin overheard him wishing her well, the old lad grinning in the kitchen as June chided him for being nosy. “Hmmm, nice lass that Heather,” he said when James came into the room. He saw his son pause, then grin and go red before turning away. Kelvin knew… you couldn’t hide that sort of stuff from your father and before bedtime he came to see his lad. Having done a walkround of the farm and not able to find fault anywhere. James was making a good job of this. But he did want answers. Coming in to the office where the youngster was busy with paperwork. Placing a coffee cup on James’ desk. “How long?” he asked, the lad freezing for a moment. “Heather left yesterday morning, and yes, we did, alright?” was his reply, turning to see his dad smiling at the boy’s discomfort. Not cruelly, but knowing all the same. “Good lad, if you’d lied to me I’d have kicked your ass off of the farm. I’m damn proud of what you do here,” he said, giving the youngster a warm hug. As he left the room… “And yes James, she’s welcome back anytime,” he said, the boy had a grin on his face at that. “Does mum know?” was a reply and Kelvin nodded. “Yes, she knew straight away, even before the phone call came,” and the boy looked puzzled. Dad smiled now, “Heather has a penchant for chocolate biscuits and there was half a pack in the larder, now there aren’t any. I know you don’t like them… so there.” And return Heather would, months later in September. Chapter 2. Somehow the girl knowing that June and Kelvin were away on holiday in Spain, the first time they’d left Scotland for years. James was working in the yard when he saw a familiar figure coming down the drive, pack on its back, those slim but firm legs and a tired but oh so cheeky smile as she got closer. Dropping his toolbox he rushed up and greeted her. Kissing Heather, rubbing Heather, thrilled Heather was once more in his arms. Interrupted by the sheepdog sticking its’ wet nose between them. “Gerroff you silly bitch,” he said as they both laughed. Heather squealing as he then spoke to the dog! Giving the animal a shove to one side so he could hold the girl again. She too was pleased to see him and their chat that night was of… how they’d missed each other. Most holiday romances are just that and until today they’d only occasionally spoken on the phone. Both were just too busy with work. But now… He made dinner while she sorted her washing out and had a bath for the first time in three days, the girl planning to be here all week and some of the next. But once they’d dined and were sitting on the sofa cuddling she also told James something that alarmed him. Despite her outward appearance Heather was very ill and that was why she’d come. “Since that night in Claggan that I’d said recharged my batteries I’d been OK, until three months ago when I collapsed without warning. I just get so tired, really listless and sometimes I just cannot feel the urge to do anything. Yet this week I’ve been OK travelling up here on the coach, and today I managed to walk right from Ullapool to Braemore. Eleven miles with full backpack. So damn frustrating when it happens. I still work at the shop with the other girls but the medics are baffled when I can do things one day yet not the next. They know there is something wrong with my innards because of the bloodwork figures but the other tests prove nothing. So I hoped, James, that having come here to be with you…” “That you’d let me spend another night locked downstairs in the castle. See if that helps.” James stared at her, the girl looking back, eyes pleading with him not to deny her the chance. Smiling when he nodded, breaking down in tears and they came for a hug and kiss. “Not tonight though?” he asked and she grinned, not resisting as he placed both hands on her waist, easing Heather towards the bedroom. A wonderful night of gentle sex followed and by the end of it he’d promised to help Miss McCreadie do anything she could. Next morning he began preparations while she slept on. Nipping over to Dornoch and buying a single sized bed. No way was he going to leave her lying on an old straw one again. This was taken straight to Claggan and installed, pleased the place was exactly as found. More food and water, plus the bucket were placed where they’d been before. Returning home to see Heather in the yard dressed as normal, playing with the sheepdog. She beamed on seeing him and they kissed and hugged. The girl pleased to hear what he’d done up at Claggan. “OK then, we’ll go up there tomorrow. I’m feeling good again today so we’ll do some work, if you want?” The pair did so, Heather able to drive the tractor again, though once past lunchtime the girl said she was tiring rapidly and could she go in. He took her back to the house, leaving her in the lounge on the sofa wrapped in blankets. James amazed at how quickly she’d deteriorated. “See, that’s how annoying it is for me too,” she murmured as a coffee cup was handed over. James looked into her eyes and saw how dull they’d become and he was appalled. He said little else, except a gentle scold at the fact this could have happened yesterday during her walk to get here. She did have a SOS pendant given to her by the hospital. If she’d collapsed anywhere in the UK all Heather had to do was to press the red button on the front. This would activate a GPS alarm and somehow the emergency people could find her. “It’s designed for pensioners,” she shrugged sadly, “but I don’t think I’m going to get that old.” So now told her off for being morbid, the girl nodding ruefully, getting a hug and kiss at the end as an apology. They didn’t make love that night, though she did ‘borrow’ Jen’s nightie and the couple faded away together. Next day she was tired first thing, though she cooked their meals and did some housework, remaining inside until it was time for them to go to the castle. She didn’t ask to be bound, nor did he insist and before long they were there. Seeing Heather’s eyes light up as she stepped through the doorway, a pat of the stonework as they went downstairs. He said little as he helped Heather dress, then securing the collar and manacles till she was done. They had a long kiss then he left, doing the doors, quietly sealing the hatch up and leaving Miss McCreadie to the ghosts, the guy praying they’d do something to help her.

Heather in the Highlands

Mon, 21 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part three

Part 4. Chapter 1. It had been a long a bitter winter for Heather McCreadie even though she was safely underground. The girl woke after every ‘sleep’ praying this would be the day he’d come to see her. Even a shouted word or two down the vent pipe would be a start but all she’d endured was silence. Heather sighed and dressed herself, wearing what was still her favorite of Jenna’s outfits now it seemed to be getting warmer again. The black thigh length one, adding the high heels that she had got used to over the years. The ghosts ensuring that little of her stuff wore out once replaced in the wardrobe. Now she slipped next door for a drink and her breakfast. This of sliced bread and… well today it would be honey as she’d had jam yesterday. A look in the other jar and yes, the level was back to the top. She sat down and not for the first time recently Heather McCreadie began to cry. The tears flowing as she remembered the fine summer days, especially those of last year. When James had brought her up beyond the hatch and she’d discovered the castle hall had been turned into a dining room. A table and two chairs with champagne and a picnic feast. It’d been lovely to sit in fresh air and eat though she did wonder what the occasion had been for. Trying to be happy on discovering this was her five-year anniversary took a monumental effort. Even James realised he’d made a mistake as her face crumpled. At one point he thought she was going back down, unable to face it but as usual Heather proved her fighting spirit as she finally smiled. “Yeah, but as I’ve said it’s better than the alternative! Get the wine open pet.” Going through with the meal… and what followed downstairs afterwards. Now she’d just be happy to hear his voice as it felt like months rather than weeks since he’d left with her screams ringing in his ears. That had been traumatic enough for her, as she’d become used to the limited freedom he’d allowed her. With the front access door locked Heather now had the run of the castle during the summer months. He’d even created a studio upstairs in the tower for the girl to sit and do her drawings. But the last two visits had not gone well, and when James hadn’t returned having forced her below stairs after the second it somehow worried Heather that maybe he’d abandoned her after all! The first of the two he’d arrived but seemed a little distracted, plus the weather hadn’t helped. Heavy rain and a bit windy and he’d apologised saying he was busy and couldn’t stop long after all. They’d planned a whole day and now it’d been spoiled, James saying that there was a chance of some very bad storms coming through the area in the next few days. “This is nothing love to what they’re forcasting,” explaining that the remains of a bad hurricane were crossing the Atlantic and due to hit the whole of Scotland head on. While this happened a few times a year, this particular hurricane had caused devastation on the Eastern seaboard of the States and Canada. Many people had died despite warnings and now it was coming this way. “Well Claggan’s probably survived worse,” she quipped. Only for James to scowl at her. “Yeah, but for those of us up top it’s not so easy to deal with.” Which might be a little harsh on Heather but she paused then apologised for being flippant. He gave her a cuddle and did the same, but told her she should spend the next couple of days packing up the tower studio please. The girl dreading the winter to come as it might mean she’d… have to remain under the hatch for up to four months. She’d agreed to do that, got a hug then started after he’d gone. Emptying the cupboards and carrying the lightest of the chairs and stowing them in the manacle room. But the weather didn’t let up and the wind got so bad she was not able to get the heavier bits down the slippery staircase. So when James returned, this time in a really wound up state they had the first row in years. “Bloody hell love, I did ask for everything to come down, and all the way too. Not the manacle room but in there!” he said pointing to the first of the rooms by the hatch staircase. Now Heather knew he’d said no such thing and protested. It wasn’t her fault and he hadn’t told her. “Right well come on,” he urged, leaving her behind while he went to the tower letting Heather move the bits downstairs from the manacle room. Unfortunately she tried to do this wearing heels. He found her tottering slowly along the corridor, almost falling over as she changed the snaplocks and James lost his temper. Snapping at her to hurry up and get into sensible footwear. “What’s the hurry love?” Heather asked having changed into sneakers. The girl alarmed on finding out that the storm wasn’t decreasing as expected. This would be the first direct hit of a hurricane for over a century. “I’ve got a lot on my plate so don’t need to worry about you as well. There’s even talk they’re gonna start evacuating parts of the Western Isles, Oban and Ft William in the next twenty-four hours. Any low-lying coastal bits are in danger. I’ve got a whole bloody farm to sort out, plus Wally needs help. Now get moving!” he barked, slapping her backside none too gently. That was too much for her and instead of going faster Heather petulantly began to slow down. It took him a few trips to realise she was playing up despite his repeated urging, seeing her unpacking boxes rather than shifting the next lot and took action. Catching her bending down he grabbed hold of Heather’s arms and snaplocked both wrists behind her back. She screamed at him to stop but the lad threw the girl over his shoulder then carried her into the bedroom and dropped Heather on the bed, holding her one-handed as she tried to resist. Grabbing the chain from the wall with the other he wound it round the frame a few times till only a short length remained then attached it to her collar. Removing the other one off her leg as she tried to kick him. He smirked telling her to stop struggling then secured her ankles together. Leaving her lying there unable to even sit upright. “THAT’S for misbehaving! You had enough warnings. If you shut up wailing missy I might free you before I have to leave. Got it?” That did break through her rage at what he’d done and Heather just lay there sobbing as he walked out of the room. Slamming and bolting that door too. All she heard over the next hour or maybe more was him moving stuff around, up and downstairs until he returned and came in. Seeing her distraught and helpless, her eyes red with tears. She didn’t even flinch when her wrists were freed then her legs. Miss McCreadie waited till he’d put the chain onto her ankle then freed her neck and got up. Ignoring his outstretched arms offering an apologetic hug then walking past him to go and use the toilet. “OK, suit yourself lassie,” he said shortly. Heather didn’t reply and left him standing there. Coming back she made a half-hearted attempt to apologise. Stopping when James said this time he’d have to put the hatch down on her. “No,” she replied, her face paling by the second. “I’m honestly sorry for playing up, I just didn’t think. Please don’t… just lock the corridor and the front one instead. What if it floods down here? If only the first door is done then I might be able to break it down or… well…just… don’t leave me down here,” she whispered clutching his arm. But he wasn’t in the mood and refused. “Sorry but I cannot risk it Heather. The drains are perfectly adequate. Now I need to go.” Then turned and walked out without offering her a kiss. Quickly she followed, changing snaplocks but he was faster. Passing the passagway door and flinging it shut in her face. She screamed at James not to do it but the echo of the bang drowned her voice. The bolts were slid across then a key secured her inside as she continued begging him not to leave. Instead he passed through the manacle keys and told her to remove her wrist and ankle cuffs. Heather paused and he said if she didn’t hurry up then they’d remain on her limbs. Now the girl complied, unlocking each but instead of passing them one at a time she gathered the four and stuffed them through the bars together then bounced the key off his head as he’d bent down to pick them up! “You don’t care about me anymore,” she wailed as he came up, eyes blazing with anger. He couldn’t understand why she was doing this. Didn’t she realise the danger he was in? The drive back to Braemore was going to be treacherous enough and he could feel the stronger breeze even down here. “Perhaps I care too much,” he retorted and turned away. Ignoring her banging both fists on the door as again she pleaded not to be locked downstairs. Calling him a bastard and other rude names as he hurried upward trying not to cry. He couldn’t help it as her voice taunted him so he let the chain run freely instead of through his hands. Cutting off the hysterical last screams as it slammed down on the girl he still loved whatever she did or said. James cried all the way home, only the fact it was pouring with rain as he did the gate did he manage to disguise this once drying off in the kitchen. June was concerned but he fobbed her off saying one of the gates had slammed on his fingers. Showing her the marks actually caused by punching Claggans’ walls in a rage on the way out. Ordering the castle ghosts to look after his beloved Heather… or else. Chapter 2. That was the last time he’d visited and she was convinced it had been her fault after all. She spent so many hours over the next few days just sobbing, praying to the ghosts. Even they seemed to leave her alone and at one point for the first week the boxes didn’t refill themselves and Heather had to start a rationing plan. Candles too burned until she was down to the very last one. That night she went to bed and prayed that whenever he did return that she’d do anything he desired. Next morning Heather awoke, just the one candle barely alight with an inch to go, flickering in the breeze that seemed very strong considering where she was. But she could see the others had regrown and quickly she lit them, sobbing with thanks as things got brighter. Once dressed she went next door, checking the boxes and her heart surged to see they were full again! Since then she’d prayed every day for James and his family. Today Heather did the washing up then was about to head into her sitting room when a familiar sound reached her. Moments later she was delighted as the hatch chain began to run, squeaking slightly as it obviously hadn’t been oiled for ages. The girl trembled and reached for the corridor chain, almost forgetting how to clip it on her collar. “It’s been that long dammit,” she growled, her emotions all over the place but trying to put a happy face on as footsteps came slowly downstairs. Not the usual hurry however and he looked through the bars to see her standing there. “All secured?” he asked and Heather was shocked. Not even a flicker of emotion or recognition and despite this she nodded. He couldn’t still be angry after last time? The door was unlocked and bolts drawn back then he pushed it open. James walked slowly back into her life yet STILL he showed little, carrying a couple of bags of stuff to add to her supplies. He brushed past and went into the kitchen, dumping them on the table, hearing Heather’s heels clicking behind him as she followed. “James, love… is something wrong?” she asked, shuddering when he froze. The guy turning towards her then he almost seemed to collapse. She rushed forward and caught him, easing the guy over to the bench and got James sitting down. “Ouf…” he said, his breathing a little ragged and Heather’s heart gave a jump… as she’d once been that way herself. Surely he wasn’t… ill? He looked up into her beautiful face, his own trying not to show the pain, but she knew. Taking his ice-cold hands into her own. “James, is it… that?” she whispered and he nodded as she sat alongside. “Yeah,” he said, feeling her shaking as it struck home. “I got the results yesterday. Even Kelvin doesn’t know yet, nor does mum. She’s been over with Jen for a fortnight, but coming home tonight, our lassie popped out another rug-rat a week ago.” And that was a surprise, as Heather didn’t know his sister had been pregnant. Normally he kept Miss McCreadie up to date on family stuff and that surely would have been told. So how long was it since his last distressing visit? “I’m sorry it’s been so long Heather. In fact I’d better level with you right now, but we’ll do it next door in… your bedroom please,” he said, gripping tight. They went and sat down and the tale emerged. Heather McCreadie managed not to faint on finding out it was summer… the FOLLOWING year! “It’s been that long?” and he nodded. Yep, eight months actually and its now July. Going on to say that ‘up-top’ they’d just endured the worst weather for decades. “Possibly you honey, were the safest person in Scotland down here. Especially during that October hurricane.” She nodded, clutching his hands and immediately apologised for what she’d said back then. “Yeah, I must do the same for what I did to you, I kicked myself for days afterwards. Guess the ghosts gave you some grief?” She nodded wryly and their lips met for a long kiss and they both wept as the couple held each other tight. She was appalled to hear about the damage across the country. Four hundred dead, many thousands injured and property damage running into billions. “We lost the roof off the large barn and another was written off… the small one where I found you,” he said, the girl blushing on remembering that night. He did too but apart from that they were sheltered in the valley and had escaped the worst. “Poor Wally however has lost everything. Thank goodness I was able to rescue him as his place was exposed out on the hilltop. We’d moved his stock into our spare barn so the animals made it but I had to drag him away at the end, he didn’t want to leave. Just as well I did because the farmhouse… just vanished, only the floor-base remains. He’s staying with us now. Lives in Jen’s room till his insurance pays up. He was supposed to retire years ago leaving the place… to wee Martin, my mate who died in the crash in 2006? Now we’re not sure what’s gonna happen to him.” Heather sat there fiddling with her dress as the tale continued. “I’m so glad I’d altered the vent system so your air came from the new one inside the castle walls. The pipe outside would surely have been well under the umpteen-foot drifts that have blanketed the high moors. I screwed it shut or you would have had white stuff blowing out of there, coulda made a snowman on yer carpet,” he chuckled wryly knowing Heather loved snowballing. They’d had a session in Ft William with the other girls after their ’engagement walk’. “It started days after the hurricane. That’s why I didn’t come back, we were too busy with Wally and rescuing others. Even now there’s still a lot that hasn’t melted. Never seen snow lying here in July for Petes sake.” She did mention that at one time she’d needed to block the original hole up, the first time it’d seemed painfully cold blowing down despite the top being shut. Needing to wear the old dress over her normal clothing AND use all the spare blankets. James replying,“it hit –28C not ten miles from here, guess it was that night. I really panicked, worrying ‘bout you.” She tried to smile. “Thanks, sorry but I really cursed you that time. But please honey… what’s up with you now then?” He paused and she trembled as a painfully familiar story emerged. Pains, aches, tiredness coming and going after Christmas. James couldn’t afford time off the farm and dared not say anything to his folks. “Pride go’eth before the fall? Then I did big time out in the yard two months ago. Wally was there and said I just stopped, got out of the jeep and went down like a sack of feed. He thought I’d had a heart attack, think it nearly gave him one too!” he quipped, trying to cheer Heather up though he guessed she knew what was coming. “So I was carted off to Inverness. Spent a week being prodded and probed in places too uncomfortable to mention in polite company. They found nothing. Bloodwork showed zip according to them. But I wasn’t convinced. So once back at Braemore I spoke to your Dr Chalmers, you remember her love?” Heather nodded. “Yeah Lucy was… is great…and?” “She drove all the way to see me. You didn’t know she was ex MOD?” and Heather looked amazed. “Well she is, and she tested for various contaminants having remembered me… and came up trumps. Only it’s something that hasn’t been known here… since WW2. That’s why your cancer got missed. Now… it’s my turn. I’ve got the same bloody problem you had… and she’s warned me we’ve gotta keep it secret. If it gets out, then the whole of this part of Scotlands’ in deep trouble,” he said at last. Heather gasped, surely he couldn’t be serious. “It’s not infectious, but Lucy will have to answer some very awkward questions if or when it worsens. Like how she and I know each other. The fact she knew you. She’s sure MOD would find that out too easily if I went back to hospital, so…it looks like… I’m going to have… to well, leave and go die quietly somewhere instead.” Miss McCreadie burst into tears, thinking that maybe it’d been Claggan that had poisoned both of them instead of saving her. “But James… you can’t do that!” she said, gripping tight in case he left straight away. The thought he’d lock her down here permanently was too horrible to contemplate. These last eight months had been hard enough. Knowing he’d NEVER return… no chance and she waited a few minutes before speaking. Chapter 3. “Well I’ve got an idea. Daft as it sounds but I need you to think carefully before you refuse,” she said after a long thought. “It’s a multi-part thing” and she asked the following… A. Was Lucy aware Heather was still alive, had she asked James what had really happened to her? B. If not, would she believe James if he told her the truth, bringing Dr Chalmers to see for herself? C. Would she, to avoid implicating herself again… cover up James own disappearance? D. If she agreed, was James… prepared to come and live here at Claggan full time? E. Would Kelvin and June go along with this having discovered Heather was still alive? “Well you certainly have thought this out. How long?” he asked. Not surprised Heather had wondered right from day1 whether her illness had been caused by what she’d done. “Guess I’ve had time to mull it over honey,” she said and a smile touched his lips. “But it’s too late to worry about it now. I guess if I took this chain off, I’ll be dead within minutes.” she replied, touching the snaplock on her collar and for a moment James thought she’d undo it. “No!” he barked, making her jump as she hadn’t meant to get that close. He apologised, she said nothing but looked puzzled when James reached into the other bag and pulled out her wrist cuffs. Asking her to put them on and she paused, surely this was hardly the time to start playing games. “Please Heather, just do it,” he sighed unlocking them. She shrugged and applied each one, securing them then returning the keys after repeating this for her ankles. Maybe I’m going upstairs, she thought, though as James was dressed in a heavy jacket and trousers with boots too she wasn’t sure. He’d said it was summer up there… Once done he ordered her to wriggle across the bed and allow him to snaplock her down. “James love, surely this can wait…?” Heather said but was unprepared when he took her arms then started pushing the girl down. “Alright… I’ll do it. Just WAIT A MOMENT!” she snapped, for the first time in ages becoming scared of him again. Heather now shuddered as she lay back. The ‘snip’ of each one binding her to the bed was not pleasant today and she was worried at what was happening. That more so once he’d spread-eagled her, as James then produced material, swiftly hands grabbing her jaw and applying the gag, forcing it deep into her mouth, muffling squeals as Miss McCreadie naturally began begging him not to…

Worldwide Wrap Up

Sun, 03 Dec 2017 00:00:00 +0000

The Evil Ancient Pharaoh emerged from his king-sized golden sarcophagus. He glanced back at the female mummy he had slept with that night, wrapped neck to toe in clean white bandages. The buxom blonde reporter, Honey Golden, had served him well but he was finished with her for the time being. He cast a spell that lapsed her into ageless slumber, scooped her up into his arms, and carried her across the room to what would seem to be a solid wall to anyone who didn’t know the secrets of the tomb. With a single verbal command, the undead ruler made the secret door open, revealing the chamber that held his greatest treasure; his harem. Thanks to spells cast when the tomb was originally carved into the side of the cliff, this chamber had a far greater interior volume than what would otherwise be physically possible, and could expand even more if need be. The Pharaoh walked down one of the many rows and gently placed the lovely Ms. Golden in the first empty sarcophagus available. Taking a small roll of bandages from a nearby storeroom, he put up her flaxen hair, wrapped her head, and then he put the lid on her sarcophagus, sealing her in. She would be safely tucked away until he desired her again.

Sleeping Beauty

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

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

Sleeping Beauty

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

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death.

Precious Marissa 2: Marissa's Story

Sat, 28 Jan 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Part 2: Marissa’s Story

Author’s Note:

This story, “Precious Marissa: Marissa” is penned as a stand-alone story and as a companion story for “Precious Marissa”. As the original was written from Kevin’s point-of-view, this version relates the story from Marissa’s point-of-view. Having two stories tell the same tale but from separate sets of eyes may be a style I incorporate more if people let me know that the writing style is interesting. I know I write long stories and sometimes fill them with more background and detail than some of you readers prefer, but, I am too detail-oriented of an individual to fully pull away from my character development. I feel that this style will allow me to create stories which are complete on their own or can be enjoyed as a collective to fully grasp each character being their own protagonist. Only you, the reader, can let me know if you enjoy the style…so…please do. Thank you.

The Grave Decision

Sat, 28 Jan 2017 00:00:00 +0000

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death.

Chapter 1: The Grave Request

The topic came up in conversation, late one night after we had finished watching an old horror movie, the subject of being buried alive. Brandi told me that if I didn’t laugh at her, she would tell me her secret fantasy. I agreed not to laugh or make fun of her, so she told me her darkest desire. After she told me what she had dreamed of for so long. I finally said “So you really want to be buried alive, forever”?

Precious Marissa

Wed, 24 Aug 2016 00:00:00 +0000

Kevin and Marissa, only two-months shy of their first anniversary in the heavenly bliss of the shroud of matrimony, are as much in love as the day they repeated their vows. At least, Marissa was the last time Kevin seen her, two-days before waking this morning. Kevin figured Marissa was not all that happy at current and most assuredly questioning why she was in her current state. Kevin knew they would not be spending their first wedding anniversary together, Marissa, did not.

The Grave Decision

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

Chapter 1: The Grave Request

Hidden Away

Mon, 13 Jun 2016 00:00:00 +0000

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death

The man shifted in the cramped car seat. The car was parked on a sparsely populated street, pulled into the shadows of trees lining the street. He checked his watch. The object of his stakeout should be home soon.

His cell phone rang and he answered. “Jeff here, boss,” he said, listening to the man on the other end. “He should be here shortly. I’ll have him all wrapped up and out of here in about half an hour.” He listened again. “Yes, as usual, you will get proof I’ve got him and that he won’t be causing any problems for you anymore.” He smiled as he listened more. “That’s why you hire me boss. I always get my man.” He ended the call as a car was approaching from the opposite end of the street. Jeff pulled out his binoculars and saw it was the car he was waiting for. He watched as it pulled into the driveway and a man got out. He smiled as he thought about what was about to begin.

Hidden Away

Mon, 13 Jun 2016 00:00:00 +0000

Just for Fun

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

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

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

Just for Fun

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

Cut Down to Size

Sun, 26 Jul 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Part I

Kate and Emma were kneeling on the floor looking at the glass jar on the coffee table in front of them, both with a look of amazement on their faces. In the jar was Kate’s boyfriend, now standing at only one inch tall. Of course they hadn’t believed the woman who claimed to be able to shrink people and Kate had certainly been joking when she’d asked for her boyfriend to be shrunk down to size for the weekend. But the woman hadn’t been joking and now here they were.

Cut Down to Size

Sun, 26 Jul 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Part I

The Hidden House of Human Furniture

Fri, 17 Jul 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Going back through some old files I found this one that was originally posted to the first plaza forum in December 2004 from Darkraptor.

This is my first full-scale attempt at forniphilia, or the art of turning people into objects. This one is a bit dark (but I personally like grim stories), so proceed with caution. Other then that, enjoy! The hidden house of human furniture By Darkraptor1 There is a house, not far out of town, where no one goes who wishes to return. This lonely house, according to local myth, is the place of many things. It is a place of mysterious spies. A place of meeting for a secret society that wishes to take over the world. Perhaps it was the house of a famous person who wished not to be disturbed. Perhaps it was just the residence of an intently shy person. A curious passer-by would not gain much from looking at the house. It was a double storied house, built in old Victorian fashion. The windows and blinds were always closed, the doors and gates always locked. Whoever lived there clearly did not want to be disturbed. But the mail was always collected, the bills and taxes paid on time and promptly, so no government officials could go inside the house. Exactly as the house’s owner had planned. For this particular house was in fact, a secret meeting place, as well as the residency of an intently shy person, who did want her career to be exposed to the outside world. For she was a specialist in the field of forniphilia, the art of converting living, breathing human beings into nothing more then living, breathing, pieces of furniture. The residents at this house called her “Mistress.” Her real name was not known to anyone but herself. Any attempts to find out her real name was dealt with harshly and severely. The occupants of her house were numerous. There were five servants, who obeyed their masters every will. They were her servants, and her thugs. For the other residents of the house were slaves. Mistress often sent her servants on errands, to kidnap ordinary people, as well as runaways, the homeless, and the forgotten. These people were kidnapped, and forced into a lifetime of slavery and bondage to a cruel and unmerciful master. Aaron was one of those slaves. He had been laid off his job a month ago. He had scavenged to make a living, living beneath bridges and in bushes. He had been taken less then a week ago. The thugs had ganged up on him, tackling him with their bodies, pinning him beneath their weight. They had forced a gag into his mouth while tying his wrists and ankles together. He had been thrown into a truck, which had driven off into the night. The next five days had been torture. He had been “educated” into the art of being a slave. Learning to obey any order without question. Learning that with defiance came torture and pain. Learning that any attempts to escape brought a lifetime of misery. In the end, he was ordered to wear a black catsuit at all times. In addition, he was forced to wear a pair of handcuffs and ankle irons, which were to be kept on him for life, even during sleep and showers. A gag was to kept in his mouth at all times, except during meals. He had been given the task of cleaning the furniture around the house. He was forced to go throughout the house, clumsily brushing down the furniture with a duster held in his shackled hands. What scared him was that almost all of the furniture was really living human beings, strapped, tied, and locked into positions where they became tables, candleholders, chandeliers, chairs, and even beds. Their eyes had looked at him while he dusted and cleaned them. The eyes spoke of silent misery and agony, of being locked into unnatural positions for hours on end, for days, for weeks, even months. Some, he had been told, had been there for years. The escape attempt had been planned early. Aaron had decided that death was preferable to a lifetime of slavery. He had consulted with four other slaves, who had been assigned various duties of cleaning, cooking, and housekeeping. They had all agreed to try and escape through the basement, through a small window that one of them had found. During the night of the escape attempt, everything went well at first. They had slipped into the basement, avoiding the gazes of the furniture left behind. They had reached the window and were almost through getting it opened when the mistresses servants found them. The slaves had fought back, but were easily subdued. Extra restraints were placed on all five slaves, and they were lead upstairs. If there was one thing the mistress liked more then anything else, it was sentencing various slaves to terms as furniture. She started with the lighter punishments. The cook, clad in a blue catsuit and wearing an armbinder, was sentenced to one month as a cabinet. He would be the cabinet, holding the drinks and food supplies that were to be placed inside. As the other slaves had watched, the servants took out an old cabinet and sawed away the shelves inside. Taking the cook, they forced him into the cabinet, where they locked into a series of stocks that fit around his feet, ankles, waist, arms, and neck. Those stocks were then nailed into the cabinet shell. When it was finished, the cabinet was placed up against a wall, and various food supplies were placed on the stocks, which now doubled as shelves. The cabinet stood a good chance of surviving its punishment. It was still fairly strong and well built. One of Mistress’s habits was to simply abandon most of her furniture, letting her servants feed them when they wished (which was not often). Only her most prized pieces of furniture were fed and toileted regularly. As the cabinet watched on, Mistress moved on to the next punishment. The vacuum-cleaner slave was next. She was a target Mistress had focused on for months, eager for a chance to punish her, for being too slow with vacuuming. The vacuum slave was sentenced to one month as a table, where she would hold the food placed on her as the residents of the house were seated for dinner. The table was brought out. It looked ordinary, except for the fact that the table itself was about fifteen inches thick, and had a hole for the table’s head to stick out of. The vacuum slave was taken to this table. The top was opened up, and she was forced into it. Cuffs were applied to her wrists and ankles, forcing her to assume a spread-eagle position. The table was closed, sealing the woman inside. Except, by this point, she was no longer a human as far as the servants and the mistress were concerned. A blindfold was applied to the table’s eyes, which would stay in place for fifteen days. The table gave out muffled moans and whimpers as it struggled. The table legs (which had formerly been humans) whimpered slightly under the weight. As the table was left to moan about the coming thirty days, it was now time to move on to the harsher punishments. Dish cleaning slave was next. She kneeled on the floor, held in place with cuffs behind her back and a choke chain around her neck. Her black catsuit was damp with sweat. The punishment was announced. Three months as a lamp post. Dish cleaning slave moaned audibly at this sentence. A quick tug on the choke chain ensured her silence. The lamp post itself was little more then a vertical piece of slightly padded wood. Dish cleaning slave was taken to this post. The servants forced her to stand onto the board. Built-in steel cuffs were applied the slave, binding her to the post, making her a part of it. When the ankle, wrist, waist, and throat cuffs were locked firmly in place, black straps were produced and wound around the lamp post, securing both pieces together. A black hood was applied around the lamp post’s head, keeping only the eyes revealed. Taking the actual lamp itself, Mistresses servants placed it into the board and left it there. The lamp post was moved over to the door, where it would remain for the next three months. If it survived that long. With one slave turned into a lamp post, it was down to the last two sentences. The T.V. tuner slave was next. Her punishment was the most common, but with a term longer then most. One year as a chair. T.V. tuner slave moaned in fear upon hearing her fate. She knew that survival was not likely. Maybe… in a way… it would be a relief, an escape from this horrible place. A chair base was brought into the room. It consisted of a wheel base, with a piece of wood on top. T.V. tuner was forced onto the floor, where her limbs were squished together and her arms forced to her legs. Red straps were produced and placed all over T.V. turner slave, ensuring that she was locked firmly into position. When it was finished, her legs were bent back onto her chest, and pointing straight up. Her arms were strapped to her legs. The bottom of her upper legs formed the seat. The back of her lower legs was the back support. T.V. turner slave was picked up and placed onto the seat base. More straps were applied, and she was locked to the base. The chair was gagged. It’s eyes were left open. Rolling it away, the servants took the chair to the computer room, where it would stay for the next year. Now, only Aaron was left. Mistress smiled to herself. She had a punishment rarely administered in mind for him. He would pay dearly for his escape attempt. Mistress took great pride in describing his punishment. He would be turned into a living display piece. A piece that could be shown to other slaves, so that they knew what happened to those who planned and lead escape attempts. To show him what the other display pieces were, Mistress had Aaron collared with a leash, and he was lead downstairs. There was a room in the basement of the house, one that was rarely opened, and only then, to show slaves what might await them if they tried to escape. The door had a small sign on it. A word, cared with gold letters, gave the room its name. Museum. Inside the room was a grotesque display of objects, all of which had been humans. There was a large cement pillar. A human head stuck out of it’s top. The pillar’s head groaned slightly. Two tubes ran out of the pillar to small collection and IV boxes. There was a small sign at the pillar’s base. It read, “Slave 103. Punishment: Ten years.” The date showed that the sign had been created nine years ago. The next object on display was a statue of a man. It too, was crafted in cement. The form was sitting in a chair. But the statue’s eyes were that of a real human. Two small tubes ran out of the figures arms, towards a waste collection box, and an IV box. The sign in front of this one read, “Slave 273. Punishment: Thirty years.” The man that was now a statue had been there for five years. Aaron’s fear and dread was building. The third display was a curious one. It was a large cage. Inside of it, there was a human. It was covered from head to toe with black leather bondage gear. The clothing was so thick that it was impossible to tell the thing’s gender. The sign in front of the cage read, “Slave 598. Punishment: Fifty years.” The human had been there only two weeks. Aaron was sweating profusely. The next display… was empty. It consisted of only a flat steel table. There were numerous black leather straps attached to the table’s sides, ready to be strapped down upon a victim. Aaron was the victim. A servant came into the room, ignoring the groans and moans of the other displays. She placed a sign in front of this table. It read, “Slave 994. Punishment:” “Life” A heavy blow landed on Aaron’s head, knocking him into unconsciousness. When Aaron awoke, he was mildly relieved to find that he was out of his catsuit, along with the cuffs and the gag. However, his situation was now much worse. He was in a neoprene body bag, tight and body hugging. His arms were inside internal sleeves, making it impossible to use them in any way. Mistresses servants were finishing his bondage. They zipped up the back of the bag. When the zippers met, a small padlock was placed between them and locked, sealing the zippers shut. Aaron watched in terror as the only key that could unlock them was calmly placed into a garbage tin. He was picked up and carried over to the steel table. He was placed upon it. Aaron squirmed and thrashed within his neoprene prison, but he knew all too well that escape was now impossible. He was locked inside this prison for life. The straps were taken and applied to Aaron’s immobilized body. Strap after strap was applied to his bag, forcing him against its surface. Soon, six leather straps were holding Aaron down firmly. Aaron’s screams and pleas for mercy were locked away behind a ball gag that had been inserted into his mouth. In addition to the built in straps, it had been fixed with dental cement, ensuring that it could never come out without ripping Aaron’s teeth out as well. It was almost time to finish the sentence. Only the neoprene hood remained. Mistress put on the hood herself. She took it in her hands and slowly pulled it up and over Aaron’s neck, chin, mouth, and eyes. This hood had no eyeholes. The only holes were in the nostril area. Mistress whispered to Aaron that he should enjoy looking at her, because that was the last thing he would ever see. Aaron screamed as the eternal darkness took his sight. The neoprene hood was placed over Aaron’s face and pushed into place. The zipper on the back and pulled down, and it too was locked to the other zippers, ensuring that it would never come off. A black posture collar was placed around Aaron’s neck, which forced him to keep his head straight. He could still move his head slightly from side to side, but that was all. It was finished. The IV tube and waste collection tube were turned on. A life-giving liquid was pumped into the display’s body, which would keep it alive. Mistress whispered to the display that, considering its young age of roughly twenty five years, it should probably live well into its eighties. The display’s only response was to twitch and squirm within its tight body bag. Satisfied that the punishment was complete, Mistress ordered the museum display to be tilted at an angle, so that all could see what became of a human named Aaron, who had been turned into a museum display, where it would remain for the rest of it’s life. And so, dear readers, take this warning to heart. For the next time you enter this town… Beware the lonely house.

Heather in the Highlands

Thu, 12 Mar 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Part 1. Heather McCreadie sighed as the ruined castle loomed closer. This unexpected storm had thwarted her plans for a good walk today and it was raining hard enough that she’d decided to take shelter and ride it out. Coming inside and dumping her rucksack by the door. Obviously she was alone, thirty miles north west of Inverness on a long walk to Ullapool. But now she needed to let the mountain rescue people in the closest town know she was safely in cover. A check on her map for the co-ordinates of Claggan Castle and she sent the text and her intentions to stay here overnight. She had a week’s worth of food; full water bottles topped up an hour ago, a tent and so on. Her phone bleeped and she read the kind acknowledgement from that hunk ‘Geoff’ whom she’d spoken to when sorting her route and contact times. If only he’d been single she sighed, having remembered the wedding ring on his finger. Shutting off the phone to save the batteries though she did have spares too. Despite the rain it was warm enough for her to strip to shirt and shorts, August can be cooler but not this year, with records tumbling every month it appeared. But at least with the storm it kept the midges away and she quickly doused herself in ‘Off’ in case any of the buggers had also taken shelter and wanted to torment a tourist while the clouds passed by. She replaced her walking boots with the light canvas sneakers and decided to explore. Claggan Castle was a disappointment as she went from room to room on the upper floor, sheltering in doorways as the roof had long ago fallen in. So she returned to the ground floor and had a drink before attempting the staircase into the darkness below. Torchlight showed there was little here, every room was just a dusty space, the rough stone flooring thankfully dry and she wondered whether to sleep in one tonight. There was no draught so why not? One of the last two rooms on this floor was examined, there was another staircase that led below but no way was she going down again, also it seemed to have a hatch partway down. This chamber had tiny gaps in the walls where daylight shone through as she remembered the castle was built on a slope just below the summit of the hill. So despite being one floor down from the main hall there was still illumination on this side and the girl marvelled at the design. Also it was thankfully away from the wind. Heather gasped on seeing a few old manacles hanging from chains at various places, more on the floor about two feet apart underneath each of the upper sets. “Well I never,” she gasped gently kicking one with her shoe, the faint ‘clink’ of chain making her shudder. She’d never tried ‘bondage’ herself but didn’t mind reading about it on sites. She was becoming an avid reader of these now and hoped the girls she lived with in Ft William wouldn’t find out. But no way had she allowed anyone to actually tie her up. Mainly because she’d been too embarrassed to ask either of the guys she’d dated in the past. Her hands reached up to one of the loops and gave it a prod, seeing it swing slightly under her touch. Then she tried to ease the thing apart but no surprise it was jammed. Well having been like this for a couple of centuries she’d hardly have expected less. Out of curiosity she tried all the lower ones, amazed on actually getting two of them to open. Her heart hammered as she pushed one closed again, the metal snapping shut but thankfully Heather did not have her fingers in the way. So now she reached for the higher ones, but only got one to move a little until she tried the last pair, ironically above the only floor ones that still worked. Heather’s eyes widened as she, with difficulty and a lot of effort had both of the manacles open, then snapping shut again and it made her tremble inside. She reached up and held both at the same time but didn’t dare close them round her limbs. But still imagined herself helplessly chained to the wall waiting to be…well whatever people had done in old times. Tonight’s’ session in her sleeping bag was going to be interesting. Miss McCreadie left the room and went into the last, pleased there was natural light here too, but she was surprised to see this one had an old casket set into a recess next to the fireplace. The other rooms had the same but this was the first to have been occupied. She paused then decided this had to be examined and with a lot of effort dragged the box out into the middle. A latch was eased aside and she flipped the lid up, managing not to choke as a cloud of dust came off the top. The casket was half-full of greyish material and Heather wondered whether…yes. She lifted up the first one and discovered it appeared to be the remains of some sort of robe or dress. Quite heavy material and a little smelly of course, in bad condition but not surprising considering how long it’d lain there. Miss McCreadie held it against herself, the hem just skimming the floor. Laying it to one side her torch showed there to be a couple more and these too were examined by torchlight. The last appeared to have a pattern on it and was of a higher quality fabric and considerably better condition than the other two. It thankfully didn’t smell either, though it was a lot heavier thanks to having an inner skirt. She smiled and carried the robe out of the room and back to where her rucksack was. The light here much better, Heather impressed at the find, laying it out on her camping mat. A simple stylised black cross was the main motif on the dark grey bodice, more black trim around the edges of the collar, cuffs and the hem itself and Heather wondered what it had symbolised. Again wishing she’d listened to her teachers more at school. But something about this made her pause and wonder… Would it fit her? Surely women in the 1800’s were of smaller stature and build, but Heather wasn’t exactly Amazonian. She’d been one of the smaller girls at school so was normally not picked for any of the sporting teams unless the skippers’ were desperate, instead preferring the individual athletic events. Miss McCreadie stripped naked then reached for the robe. It had hooks and eyes up the back, at least two dozen and Heather groaned, knowing she’d not be able to do them all up. A few would surely do so nervously she stepped into the heavy dress and drew it up around her waist. Impressed that her hips did indeed go in, so she carried on. Easing first one, then the other arm into the sleeves, then raising the front to cover her breasts. It was a little rough against her skin but she didn’t care. Heather was delighted as she got the top hooks secured behind her neck and a couple below that too. Reaching down behind her back then tried to get a few more from her waist upwards. Heather was so flexible and carried on till she was amazed to get them all done. It could have been made for her and the lass was thrilled. A pause to set her camera on the casket lid and snap a few photos on the timer. Posing for her lens then checking the screen and it looked great. She wandered about, the dress doing it’s best to trip her up, as Heather had never worn anything like this before but persevered. Moving her rucksack downstairs into one of the other rooms where it was dark but quite warm. Looking outside it was raining just as hard but as she didn’t intend changing plans Heather could remain here and…play? Heather McCreadie walked back into the room where the manacles were. Wondering if she had the courage to try one on. Standing up against the wall and reaching up till she held one in her right hand then shuffled across and grabbed the other. The effect was amazing and she knew it had to be done. She got them both opened then let one go and nervously placed her wrist in the other. Pausing a long while then easing it…SNAP. She gasped as it gripped her limb, the lassie almost fainting on the spot, realising that she’d actually manacled herself to the wall! Standing there for a while then getting the thing open again and freeing her wrist. Sighing as the strain on her shoulder was reduced. Heather shuddered then looked down at her feet, seeing the other cuffs either side of her. Another intake of breath then she bent down and did her left ankle. A pause and she opened her legs as far as the dress would allow then just managed to get the other one secured. Leaning against the wall Miss McCreadie looked above, seeing the manacles either side and smiled. “Well you got this far,” and reached up and grabbed both with some difficulty, as they seemed higher up. Then she realised that with her legs apart it was her that was lower. But she still managed to get her wrists inside with fingers now gripping the fronts. Tapping them lightly against the walls but the cuffs wouldn’t close. So she paused then did it much harder and this time it worked fine. The two manacles snapped around her wrists and she gasped again. The feelings were incredible and Heather closed her eyes at what she’d just done. Now chained by ALL FOUR limbs to a remote castle wall! Heather began to moan, imagining hands running over her dress, fingers reaching for her breasts, sighing as someone began to play with her nipples that were now straining against the bodice. Tremors rushed through her body and more hands began to lift her robe up! Her eyes snapped open at that and she looked down, but of course there was nobody here… However her dress WAS moving of its’ own accord! Now bunching to around her waist and Heather squealed in shock… only for an invisible hand to clamp itself over her mouth, holding her firmly as she naturally began to struggle. More fingers running over her legs… all heading north and Miss McCreadie bucked violently against the wall as she felt one begin to slide into where it matters most. She tugged hard on the cuffs; her hands straining against the cold metal and at one point she thought one was about to give way. But the invisible fingers began to run in and out and she shuddered, flushing too on feeling herself start to get wet! Just when Heather was thinking she’d get to orgasm the fingers withdrew, her dress flopped down and she was left groaning in disappointment! What a tease her imagination had been to her and a smiling Miss McCreadie relaxed in her bonds, trying to tug one wrist free without hurting too much. Trouble being the last time she’d really had to strain with both hands to get one open. Now with her wrists a couple of feet apart and no way of closing the gap because of her legs like that, it started to dawn on Heather that maybe she had a problem here and really was stuck! The thought terrified her, but the shame of getting herself into this was equally damaging and Heather tugged harder on the cuffs now. Really digging painfully into her hands now, then she squealed as one suddenly snapped open, almost throwing her off balance. She paused, breathing heavily and sighed, reaching up and after a few minutes of straining the other flicked open too. Heather almost sobbed with relief; cursing herself for stupidity and having got her breath back bent down to start… Miss McCreadie screamed when the invisible hands grabbed her arms and torso, pushing her back hard against the wall, wrists being slapped into the cuffs again and them snapping around. Her face held firm. Muffling the wails as her dress began to rise and once round the waist she felt something entering …and this time it definitely wasn’t a finger! Easing itself into her and of a size that normally she’d have appreciated seeing the hunk that possesses it… but NOT now despite what she’d thought earlier. It began… in and out, really working her over, and though she tried to resist her body couldn’t take that much of this. Heather began groaning again as the rhythm increased and she started moving to match it, gripping as best she could until the inevitable happened. Crashing over her like a wave and Heather screamed into the hand holding her jaw before passing out. Coming to later on Heather groaned as the headache surged through her. Lying in her sleeping bag, two ‘nightlight’ candles burning on the floor nearby. THAT made her sit up and after popping some painkillers with water Miss McCreadie flicked on the torch. Seeing her rucksack where she’d left it and that was baffling, as somehow she’d changed rooms too, as there were no manacles in here. Heather wriggled out of her bag, using the torch to examine her wrists and ankles. Stunned to see no signs of bruising at all. The way she’d tugged her arms there surely should be some marks…but no. Also she was dressed in normal 21st century clothing with no sign of that dress. So had she dreamt the whole thing up? But it was a little chilly now so Heather got back into her bag and minutes later dozed off again. Up bright and early next morning Heather McCreadie cooked herself breakfast on the little stove then packed it away. A last look round and no surprise found herself back in the dungeon, though she still did not intend to go downstairs to the next level because of the blockage. Those cuffs hung there and she shuddered, wondering whether to try… “No chance!” she grinned and turned away. Peeking next door she saw the box where the dress had come from, in the recess as expected. A closer look and it appeared as if it’d never been touched, a faint layer of dust on top. Having sent her planning text Heather departed Claggan Castle, her mind churning at the thought of those cuffs and that dress. Why she couldn’t shake it off she didn’t know. Perhaps rather than reading a story she ought to write one and contribute it! All that day as she tramped across the countryside Heather could almost hear the clank of chains in time with her footsteps! At one point convinced she heard horses thundering past, their riders urging the animals onward. So she was mightily relieved to get to the village at Braemore, the place where she’d rejoin the A835 to Ullapool. Her farmhouse bed and breakfast a hundred yards short of the road itself where traffic was hurrying to get to the port before the last boat left. A footpath followed this course but half a mile parallel, so she’d do the last 11 miles in peace before her ferry left at 3pm on Monday, the girl having decided to do a circular walk tomorrow and stay here again if there was room. Checking in with the farmer’s wife, June showing Heather to her room then offering tea and some rather delicious cakes which the girl found hard to resist after a strenuous day’s trekking. The owner himself, Kelvin joining the pair later on, saying their son, James would be home from the market soon but would not be meeting up with them yet. The tractor had a flat tyre so he’d need to repair it before nightfall. Miss McCreadie was able to get some washing done in the sink, having a dig into the top of her rucksack where dirties were kept separate from the rest. They chatted on while the girl did her stuff, pleased that the visitor wasn’t one of those that just stayed in their room rather than interact with them. Also the room was available for the two days and Kelvin suggested a walking route that could easily be done in a few hours. Checking Heather’s map and seeing the girl had the newest version that had only been out a couple of weeks. “Nice to see some youngsters know what they’re doing. City kids have no idea!” he grumbled. The girl smiling as she cleaned one of her pairs of boots, rewaxing them at the same time. June impressed the slightly built Heather was able to carry such a load as she held the bag briefly. The youngster explaining, “My father was a Regimental Sergeant Major in the Paras’ he used to carry eighty pound packs all the time. When I went trekking with him, he always trained me to ‘earn your keep young missy. Don’t carry what ye dinna want!” he’d say as we’d set off for another fifty plus mile weekend. But they kept me fit I can tell you and my current trips still do. No need to pay silly prices to go to a gym.” A wistful smile at the old man and her mum, sadly two years gone now, she missed them so badly. The elders nodded Kelvin now knowing why she was so well prepared. Heather found the phone signal here was poor so used their landline to call Dornoch to let them know she was safely off the high moors, then a second to Stornoway, to her friend Mary, the lass she was visiting on Monday. However she found out from Mary’s mum that the girl was going down with a bad cold and would be unlikely to want to go hiking later on. She’d call Heather at the farm tomorrow and let her know whether to come over. “OK, thanks for the advice, bye.” June commiserated with her when Heather said a call might be for her Sunday evening. Miss McCreadie pleased that at least she hadn’t paid for the ferry tickets yet. “I’ll do the circular walk tomorrow, stop here with you then we’ll see.” They thought that good advice and Kelvin suggested a few paths around Ullapool that Heather could do if she got stuck there. Once tea was cleared away she finished the washing and hung it up, leaving the kitchen and wandered about the farm, seeing a jeep arriving and what could only be described as ‘Young farmer HUNK!’ emerging from the battered old vehicle. Coming over to see whom this pretty blonde thing was leaning against a wall with a small camera snapping the scenery nearby. Greeting her cautiously, because his hands were covered in muck as he apologised, his eyes roaming over the rather tight T-shirt and shorts displayed there. Not a voluptuous figure but more athletic than he’d seen for a while, Athena tennis poster girl maybe. However that face was easily stored away in the memory box as one of the better ones to have stayed recently. Even more of a smile on later finding out she’d be here all day tomorrow too! Heather couldn’t help blushing then told him the good news about the tractor, surprising the lad on an offer to assist if he wanted? “Nothing else to do so why not. I can handle a spanner thanks.” Well… another chance to closely eye up that body was easily going to be accepted and they headed for the barn. It took them two hours to get the wheel sorted and do some other stuff, seeing Heather appeared happy to help doing whatever was needed. She just seemed to be one of those kind people rarely seen these days. Both got thoroughly dirty but laughed about it, high fiving the other as June called the pair in for supper. James and Heather quickly rushing through showers and at least the farm had plenty of hot water for them both!

The Encompassed Custodian

Tue, 24 Sep 2013 00:00:00 +0000

It hung in the air, its supporting base invisible in the soft light. It was a globe, as though filled with moonlight and hung before them in a net of frosted stars; its hundreds of facets each shone individually. The temple’s dust had not marred it, the sand and sun’s only effect the reflection of more and more light onto its sparkling frame.

***

Sir Corbeau tried to keep that gem in his mind. It had been three days of agonizing waiting; three days of pacing; three days of torment. The thought of the gem - the very thing that had brought him here - was infuriating. He was jealous of it. It was not cursed, as the suspicious provincials had said. Attempting to retrieve it had been a curse for him all the same.

End of Days

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

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

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

End of Days 11: The Field of Peace

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

continues from part ten

Part 11: The Field of Peace

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

End of Days 2: A Great Discovery

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

continues from part one

Part 2: A Great Discovery

5000 years later…

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

Melanie's Mystery

Sat, 14 Jul 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Melanie Richards was a serious student… of bondage stories. Spending hours evey month reading on-line tales of damsels-in-distress, girls getting themselves into trouble and she’d always wished for something to actually happen to her, rather than just reading made-up tales. A talented artist Melanie had started producing sketches from the stories she’d read and her boyfriend William, who worked as a self-employed craftsman treasured each one. Getting rock hard seeing images of women tied up and helpless. Though he and Mel did this for real he never felt brave enough to really make her bondage inescapable, not wanting her to get hurt or marked from cords and ropes. So when Melanie showed him a story of Melissa on Gromets site, being trapped inside her statue it was something that he thought could be made possible. Getting hold of wood wasn’t a problem. His father had been pleading with him to take down an old oak tree from the garden for at least a year now. The fact it was so huge had been the problem, mainly because of the cost. No way could an amateur and a few mates have attempted the task. The trunk must have been at least three feet in diameter and going up thirty feet before it started to split into different branches, the tree itself reached over a hundred feet high and was an impressive sight. A smallish win on the lottery had finally enabled Bill, as he preferred to be called to get it brought down in stages. But the crucial thing was that main trunk. Now cut into seven feet lengths and Melanie, having seen them one afternoon had quietly asked if Bill could make a statue, ‘like the one in Melissa’s story’ out of one. Young Mr Kane had grinned and agreed, getting Trevor, his mate to transport two of the lengths to the workshop attached to their home. He actually said to his buddies they’d probably end up as firewood for dad’s woodburner but for the moment he’d do his best and duly started work. Firstly slicing each from top to bottom then gradually hollowing the halves out. This meant Melanie had to be ‘acurately’ measured and an enjoyable day was spent as he wrote things down like ‘nipple to…’ ‘neck diameter’ and suchlike. She’d done a couple of sketches to show what was required and Bill used a lot of his free time out there doing her bidding. He actually made two, one exact like Melissa’s with the arms by the side, but the second had been his idea, with the limbs crossed behind the back. Each had been completed from inside and Melanie had spent a few minutes closed up in each, though sadly there hadn’t been any dildo or gag to finish the effect off. She didn’t complain as he’d worked so hard on these for her benefit, all he’d had to do now was carve the actual figure from the outside. While waiting for him to do the carving Melanie set up a page on Wiki, devoted to ‘The Goddess Bondeeja’ A totally fake site with sketches she’d done of the statues Bill was making and tales of who ‘Bondeeja’ was. It was a bit of micky-taking of Egyptian heritage and history. The country relied on it for tourism but she thought it unlikely anybody would take her page seriously. As Wiki’s reputation for accuracy was the butt of much humour the pair had thought little about it. They were however quite surprised at how many visits their page had. Melanie hadn’t wanted any comment left so didn’t include a ‘contact us’ link at the bottom. Weeks’ later Melanie smiled as Bill led her into his workroom after their dinner, having told the girl that her figure had been finished. The lassie delighted to see the newly polished statue in the corner as he’d promised. It looked like the second one she’d tested. Arms behind the back, rather than his first effort so she knew what was coming next. “Wow, it looks amazing” she gushed, pleased that somehow he’d made her statue hips a little narrower than they actually were. “Ready then?” he asked and she undressed, stepping out of her slinky red number, shivering in the frigid air conditioning in here, then shedding her underwear too. Coming over to see her ‘home’ for the next hour or so. After a long kiss she turned away and allowed Bill to help her into the bodysuit. This made of industrial thickness latex and despite the amount of talc used it still took a long time to get Melanie all zipped up. Her hands were eased into gloves but she was surprised when he balled her fingers up then secured them with fasteners she didn’t know about. “Cannot have you knocking to get out,” he grinned and she smiled, waving a fist in front of his face. It was pretty warm inside the suit and the lass would be glad once inside the statue. It’d been cool while testing it outside and naked, but here, in the chilled room she should be the same with the suit and bandages on. These took an age for Bill to apply and through it Melanie got more excited. At one point he had to dry her off with a towel as she’d dripped on the floor! “Should have stuck a certain something in there to block you up,” he’d chuckled, dabbing away. His sensitive touch almost made things worse. But finally she was a glorious white-wrapped mummy, only the center part of her face was visible and she asked to see herself in the mirror before he did her eyes. Bill didn’t ask why she wanted both her nose and mouth left free. Normally he’d insist she be gagged but didn’t want to spoil this today, though he had read the story to see what had got her going, so made a couple of extras to surprise her. Bill came up with the last of the bandages, kissing Melanie before placing two pads over her slightly scared eyes, blocking her ears with plugs then wrapping her head under several layers like the rest of her body. She could barely move her jaw to accept a drink and Miss Richards hoped she’d be fine. Taking Melanie’s arms he guided her back, easing her into the statue, watching as she positioned both arms behind her with some difficulty into the slots. Sighing as her shoulders rubbed the top then slid underneath and she was in. Mel didn’t say how tight it actually was with the thickness of the suit and four layers of wrapping over the top. She thought it’d be amazing if Bill could get the front bit shut! “Yes, that’s great, you can love” she said to the nose tapped question, ‘was she ok for him to close it up’, smiling happily as they had another session with tongues. Another tap on her breasts and moments later a now shuddering Melanie felt the air flow change and the smell of polished wood getting stronger as the front came round. She gasped as the pressure suddenly arrived, forcing her breasts back into her body, the front bit for her face now gripping tight, even the wooden bits that held her legs apart were the same. In the story the gag would appear at any moment… so she squealed loudly when one slowly drove itself in over her eager tongue. ‘Next’s gonna be a…’ Melanie grunted as a huge dildo arrived, sliding gently into her thankfully wet zone and filling the lass totally. They both stopped at the same time and Mel was thrilled that he had added the extras, but slightly stunned at how tight this was. The thickness of the latex suit and bindings meant she was actually larger now than when testing it earlier. ‘Like I’ve put on weight’ she moaned into the gag. Two thumps on the sides made her jump and Melanie realised he’d finally got the latches across as the pressure increased slightly again. Not knowing how much difficulty it’d been for Bill to do it. He’d pushed those two protusions into the statue at face and lower areas and it made him grin. “No wonder she squealed! The minx.” Another bang, right on the carved nose was the signal that she was completed and he wheeled the statue into the corner, set the angled lighting on it and snapped a few photos for the collection. No way would any of their friends believe that the figure was actually occupied by a stunning brunette, helplessly mummified, wearing a thick latex suit below that and plugged in all bar one of her holes. Melanie was definitely a virgin at the rear and he’d respected her wish to remain so. Having shot the photos for the Wiki page he went off for a drink then returned, sitting in the armchair and watching his girl. Trying to see and hear if she was close to orgasm. She was actually unconscious, having an earth-moving series before he’d come back from the kitchen having cleaned and done the washing-up. Bill’s eyes drooped and he set his alarm for another half-hour, she wouldn’t mind two hours rather than what had been agreed! Dimming the lights and he was dozing very shortly. Coming to with the buzzing of the clock Bill grumbled at the headache thundering through his brain. He’d only had two drinks and surely it shouldn’t be that bad. It was eight PM and would take at least an hour to strip Melanie’s bindings off so he’d best get started. Arriving at the statue he reached for the side catches… and stopped. They were not there! Bill Kane frowned, then checked the other side in case he’d… but nothing there either. Just two wood blocks shaped exactly like the catches, but wrapping his fingers round each one soon proved fruitless. A close look and he could see the carve marks deep into the wood and knew that somehow there was a serious problem here. Getting a torch from the drawer he shone the beam up the nostrils, expecting to see Melanie’s nose… but it appeared to be empty. A shaking boyfriend grabbed a blunt screwdriver and inserted it. Slowly sliding it well beyond the normal length of the human nasal passages, then wiggled it about. “Oh my goodness!” he said, now slowly comprehending the impossible… Melanie had vanished.

Fiona's Fetish becomes Flora's Folly

Sun, 08 Jul 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Part 1

It wasn’t a case of getting above herself, but Fiona Mackie believed she was becoming a very good bondage model. She simply loved it and having sent a few portfolios of her tied across her bed by a boyfriend she’d once dated, out on the internet, soon found that there were some seriously good photographers. Within a year she was able to pick and choose her work from a select group of guys and one gal.

Buried Time and Again

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

Beep Beep Beep

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

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

Buried Time and Again

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

Beep Beep Beep

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

Friends Like These

Sun, 10 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Georgia had been having a good evening with her friend Susan. Nothing special, a nice simple night in at Susan’s house after work, a few bottles of wine, some girly chat and relaxing. They had made themselves comfortable on the sofa and were idly chatting. Georgia had noticed a shinny black bag, clumsily hidden between the armchair and the sofa a short time after getting comfortable. She was intrigued and now she was itching to get a sneaky peek inside.

Friends Like These

Sun, 10 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Happy Halloween 2

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

continued from part one Happy Halloween – Part Two

Happy New Year!

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

Dumping Her

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

Georgia had been late home from work again but was still keen to play a game with her boyfriend, Kev.

“Keep your uniform on Georgia, I like the way your tits strain against your shirt with your arms behind your back” Kev said already pulling her arms behind her. So she stood there in her black skirt and light blue shirt, her bust swelling forward and shirt buttons straining as he slipped the single sleeve up her arms and began to buckle it in place.

Dumping Her

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

Georgia had been late home from work again but was still keen to play a game with her boyfriend, Kev.

Charles' Funeral

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

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

Charles' Funeral

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

What You See is Not Always What You Get Part 3

Sun, 09 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from What You See is Not Always What You Get Part 2)

Part Three

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.

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.

First-Hand History

Sun, 02 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000

The glow of torches faintly illuminated the cold stone blocks forming the walls of the empty room. Slowly, the glow increased, until, without fanfare, the torch bearers entered, a pair of dusky beauties wrapped in gossamer robes. As they entered, they separated, moving to the corners, then turning and silently striding to the rear corners. As they did so, four muscular men in loincloths entered, carrying between them a burden that writhed and grunted. A second pair of torch bearers came next, moving to the front corners of the room. Finally, a tall, almost painfully thin man wearing white robes entered.

Enforced in the Dessert

Thu, 30 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

A group of human sexy young men were captured and mummified by two weird tall aliens deep in the desert on some unknown distant planet. (Their fate is unknown for now.)_

This pyramid looks superior for looooong space travels. Its so massive (just look at those little windows) for storing a lot of things.

Our abducted and secured space travelers saw this massive space ship with fear as they were carried by those monstrous and muscular, but yet sexy and gentle giants. What awaits them inside? What do they want to do with them? After one minute they were blindfolded again.

Boys Night Out

Wed, 01 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Brian and I were spending so much time together that we determined it would be healthy for us to do things apart once a month to break the uniformity. On that night, generally referred to as Boys Night Out or in my case it would be Girls Night Out, we would go our separate ways and enjoy ourselves. It has been working out great. I’m blessed that my Brian, who is 6ft 2inches with an athletic physique and dashingly handsome isn’t a wanton man. Brian works out at the local gym and I attend my yoga classes to keep my figure well toned. We make an attractive couple and have been happily married for years. Never since we began our mutual night’s outs has he come home with the scent of a woman on him. In fact, usually after one of his Boys Night‘s, Brian returns home somewhat invigorated and takes me into his arms as if he hasn’t seen me in weeks. Our love making has become even more passionate than ever as a result. Whatever he is doing to relax certainly has been doing wonders for our sex life. I have no complaints there.

Reality Television Star

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

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

Reality Television Star

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

The Sleep Study Part 2: Sleep Tight

Thu, 16 Sep 2010 00:00:00 +0000

continued from part 1

The Sleep Study Part 2: Sleep Tight

“Well, good morning Gene. I see by the readings you had a very active sleep segment.” Nurse Tracey entered the sleep study room where Gene Harris was barely awake. “Time to wake up, so I can take all of these electrodes and patches off so you can go home and enjoy your weekend.” Gene slowly sat up in bed, groggy, hazy and very unsure what happened overnight. As he swiveled around to sit up on the side of the bed, the nurse began to remove the EKG pads from his legs and chest and electrodes from the putty like substance in his hair.

The Wish

Sat, 29 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

All his life he had been marked as an oddity. He was only seven years of age when he first found interest in taxidermy, sparking commentary from adults (friends of his parents) that he was a bit off. It was not until he reached the age of ten that his father began to agree with his friends.

At twelve years of age Roger found interest in his mother’s doll collection. And, while his father was determined to interest him in other things, his mother fully indulged him. By the time he was eighteen he had a rather extensive collection of rare and beautiful dolls.

Jesse in Jeopardy

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

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

Jesse in Jeopardy

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

The Gold Pyramid

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

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

Brave New World

Tue, 06 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

This story was an entry into the 2010 Winter Fetish Story Contest

The massive city twinkled in the night like a Christmas tree. To an observer, it looked like a steel painting of well designed buildings and architectural perfection, as if humanity had reached the peak of their technological triumph.

Had an observer gone down to street level however, they would have been surprised to see how the residents were different from their city.

The Cycle

Sat, 30 Jan 2010 00:00:00 +0000

FROM THE CASE NOTES OF DETECTIVE INSPECTOR JOHN BOTHAM

The one that affected me most was Lucy Owen.

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.

The Cycle

Sat, 30 Jan 2010 00:00:00 +0000

FROM THE CASE NOTES OF DETECTIVE INSPECTOR JOHN BOTHAM

The one that affected me most was Lucy Owen.

The Secret of the Trees

Mon, 17 Aug 2009 00:00:00 +0000

It was not quite yet noon on the warm tropical jungle, but there was a flurry of activity in the little village nestled between the mountains. The mid day meal was almost ready to be served, a welcome break from work in the fields and from fishing in the nearby river.

When the meal bell was rung, the workers and their families were quick to hasten to the meal hut, eager to fill their bellies. As their plates were filled one by one, an older man stood outside on the porch, watching as bowls were filled and as their users promptly walked off to enjoy their meals.

The Mummification of Subira

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000

Note: This story was initially written by Filador50 as a sequal to his outstanding story, “The Sentence”. In his own words, “There have been calls for a sequel to The Sentence-I had put some thought into a story, but could never seem to come up with a plot sufficient to meet my demanding standards. A story was partially composed and never finished.” He forwarded thetext to me, which I have expanded upon and completed.

G-Virus Red

Tue, 02 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000

Everything was black.

“Jerry?”

The voice…it wasn’t familiar…it wasn’t someone Jerry could recall hearing before.

“Jerry, are you awake?”

It took several moments of blinking before the darkness faded, normal vision taking its place. That was wrong…it shouldn’t have taken this long. Even on his worst mornings, Jerry couldn’t recall feeling this wrong. Something didn’t feel right, out of place…like something didn’t belong.

It only took a second for him to realize that something was definitely wrong. He wasn’t in his bedroom, the one he had slept in for years. The room….this room he was in was made of what looked like clear glass mingled with white plastic, almost like a hospital room.

Plastered

Tue, 10 Feb 2009 00:00:00 +0000

“I am going to make a cast of your feet,” Amanda said out of nowhere. Ryan was used to these sudden mad plans of his girlfriend, but this one caught him by surprise.

“Why?”

“It will be fun and what’s more, I like your feet. You’ve got nice feet.”

Even though they had only been together for two months, Ryan knew better than to protest. Amanda’s moods could be unpredictable and it was usually easier to give in than to start an argument. And besides, Amanda’ strange plans usually turned out to be pretty entertaining. “Okay, if you want to, I am game. How are you going to do it?”

Corey's Ancient Tomb

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

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

A Present

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +0000

I climbed in my car and drove home, tomorrow is my birthday, and I had booked a day off, as I turned in to Abby road I could see a large delivery van outside my house.

As I drew up the driver was just coming out of my drive, “Hi miss, we had a delivery for you and we had instructions to place it in your garage if you where not in, Would you like to sign here.” At that he handed a pen and the clip board holding the delivery note to me.

Holding up the Building

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

Jenny was having the time of her life on her Egyptian vacation. She had spent much of her day enjoying the mummy wing of a local museum, and when she left for dinner, she noticed they seemed to be building an expansion onto the museum. She stopped and asked what was going to be in the new wing. The worker, who didn’t seem to speak English, led her to a tent near the site. Inside an Egyptian man with glasses was examining some plans for the building.

Holding up the Building

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

Halloween Night in Lost Rising

Wed, 31 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

It was a dark and stormy Halloween when I went to visit the old town of Lost Rising. It used to be such a lovely place, but over the years it has run down and is nearly empty. The houses mostly stand derelict. But at least I was well wrapped up in my long bright yellow rainproof coat, thick jumper, heavy jeans with a pair of women’s tights underneath, walking socks and boots. I topped this with a balaclava and a wide brimmed rainproof hat.

Old Ruins can lead to Ruination

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

It was a dark and eerie night when Jan stumbled on the old church. Basked in moonlight from the full moon, the church showed it was in ruins. Parts of the roof had caved in and altogether, it sent a shiver through Jan’s spine. But now she had to investigate the church. Why had she never read about it before? Why was it never mentioned in the local guide books? More importantly, what happened to it? But for now, Jan was happy that she had taken her evening constitutional walk. She would come back in the morning. It was only that after a day of traveling by coach she was glad for a walk after dinner that she found the church.

Red Casket

Fri, 24 Aug 2007 00:00:00 +0000

When a modern day trial is completed, one of two things happen. If the defendant has been found innocent, then he or she is free to go, walking out of the courthouse in the clothes they came in. If the defendant is found guilty however…then their ordeal in the justice system is just beginning. They are taken from the courtroom into the basement and changed into their new outfits…orange one piece jumpsuits, along with their new jewelry, so to speak. That of course, being handcuffs and leg irons.

Beginnings

Sun, 13 May 2007 00:00:00 +0000

I arrive at Master’s home, and his roommate leads me in. I’m taken directly down to the dungeon where I’m directed to strip off, I’m given a buzz cut and all body hair is shaved short with the clippers. I’m led up to the bathroom where I’m placed in the shower, and I’m scrubbed down and given a thorough coating of Nair all over, including my face. Once the shower is done and all trace of hair, except the very top of my head is gone, I’m given a couple enemas to clean me out. Once I’m done and dried off, a cock ring is placed on me, a Texas catheter is attached, and then I begin donning my latex undergarments. Already lubed, I slip into Hip high leggings, t-shirt, sheath shorts with an opening for the catheter tube, arm length gloves and then a full body wetsuit was placed on me over the latex. It had a hole for the cock sheath, which was placed thru it and zipped up tight. Foam earplugs were placed in my ears and then I had a latex hood placed over my head with open eyes, nose and mouth, and the neck portion placed under the wetsuit neck. I then had a pair of latex chastity shorts placed on me over the wetsuit and a notch was in the flap for the catheter tube to come thru and was locked on with several locks, and a pair of neoprene boots with semi-hard soles were then placed on my feet. A full body harness with built in collar was then placed on me and all buckles locked closed. A pair of rubber fist mitts were then placed on my hands and then padded leather ones locked on over those. A scuba like mouthpiece was brought over with a tube coming out. It was placed in my mouth and a padded muzzle brought around my head locking it in place, with just the tube hanging out. Its locked in place and a leather hood is placed over that. All you can see are a pair of eyes way inside and a tube out of the mouth and a couple nostril holes. I am then led to the Bondage Chair where I am strapped down with many straps and left for several hours with just the sounds of the TV in the next room to keep me company. Several hours later someone placing a blindfold over my eyes awakens me. I must have dosed off. And then I hear the voice of my Master for the first time today… “Hello pup… glad you finally made it! I see you’ve been prepared. I’m going to release you as soon as I place the kneepads on you and a couple straps to make sure you stay on all 4’s. The rest of today, you will be a pup, kept on a chain and on the floor… things will be better tomorrow.” And I was like a puppy, but with the blindfold on, hard to see what was going on around me, but was kept firmly in one area by the chain. After several hours of being petted and lying on the floor, I feel a different chain locked on my collar and I’m led by leash to the dungeon where I am locked inside and told goodnight. I quickly fall asleep… I awake to the sound of my cage being unlocked and the door opening. I’m pulled out and stood up and moved to a chair. I’m sat down and told to get ready to drink. Soon a Slimfast or Ensure or something similar is coming in my mouth tube, I greedily swallow it. And it’s washed down with some nice cold water. I’m then led over to one side and I feel shrink-wrap being wrapped around me. Over and over my body it goes, up and down everywhere! Then my arms are placed at my sides and my legs together and more layers from head to toe are wrapped on! Then I am wrapped from head to toe with PVC tape. Only the open nostril holes, mouth tube and catheter tube are seen. I’m then placed in a mummy style sleeping bag, which is closed around me and straps holding it closed around me and then down to the bondage bed in the dungeon. “You will be here for the day until I get things ready for you. I’ve placed an Air Conditioner in the dungeon window so the air will be nice and cool so you don’t overheat. And I placed a pair of headphones over your ears so you can hear some MP3s over them. You won’t get bored.” I’m kept there that way until that night when I am let out of the bag, and stood up, placed against a dolly and taped to that. I’m given more energy drinks and water and taken out to Master’s Van. We ride somewhere and I’m wheeled inside what turns out to have been a Fetish Bar and placed against a wall and in full view of everyone. I can feel many people rubbing their hands everywhere on my body until several hours later, I’m wheeled back to the van, and we ride home, and taken back to the dungeon. That night I am placed back in my cage, after being taken off the dolly, given something to drink, the door locked and asleep for the night. I awake and soon Master and his roommate are coming down the stairs. I am taken out of the cage, given my liquid meal and Gatorade, both sets of mitts are taken off, and I am told to stretch my hands and fingers, which were cramped and hard to stretch. Soon, 2 long heavy leather bundles are brought over, they encase my lower arms and enclose my hands, but allow me to open and close my hands as I wish, but are held inside the thick leather gauntlet. They are strapped and locked on, my arms brought back to my sides and I am placed inside a large plastic bag, from the neck down, with several layers of saran over that and numerous layers of tape, with only my catheter tube coming out. The headphones (nice ones with lots of padding are placed on my head) and soon my head is also encased inside a bag, with only my mouth, nose tubes and headphone cord poking thru and then layered with saran and duct tape. I am now a long silver worm with tubes coming out from all anyone can see from the outside. Apparently the headphones are plugged in somewhere because I hear a voice. It’s my Masters! “You are now ready for the next part of your encasement. We will be wrapping you in over 5000 ft of plaster bandages. Once that’s done and they’ve cured and set, we will see about the next phase.” The NEXT phase??? Soon I am being wrapped and wrapped under several layers of plaster bandages from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet… I have absolutely no movement other than opening and closing my fingers inside its gauntlet. After an unknown amount of time, the earphones announce that its nighttime and they are going to bed, but to think about what’s next. I awake to feeling myself being moved. I can tell I’m being carried somewhere. I am laid down and can tell my tubes are being maneuvered in some fashion. Then I feel and almost hear something. It’s like a heavy liquid sound… “Well pup. You will be spending 30 days fully encased. Maybe longer. You’ve been placed inside a wooden crate and we’re filling it with plaster. We will screw the lid on, and the crate is inside a small concrete block enclosure against the back wall of the dungeon. We will then set some of those large patio pavers over top, with some grout between then to seal it down and make it look like it was made to be a bench of some kind for people to sit on. We’re planning on having several dungeon parties here over that 30 days and you’ll be here for everyone, in your own limited way! We’ll provide you with some voices, music, radio and so on thru the headphones and of course your food, water and piss needs are being handled by the tubes… have fun for your stay!” The headphones click off, but I can hear just loud enough to listen a local talk radio station…. And I’m left to live out the next 30 days… Heavily encased in latex, saran, duct tape and plaster as a sitting bench in my Masters Basement!

Smart Duct Tape 3

Sun, 13 May 2007 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from Machine part 2 by Jessica

As we left off, Officer Lacey has taken the modified device home, and woke up to find herself trapped in her home, defenseless, facing a maniacal machine….

Lacey continued inspecting her house as carefully as possible. She had no idea that the machine had set her house up in such a way to redirect and slow her down for her eventual capture.

She was starting to get very nervous, seeing her house made up like some kind of Duct Tape nightmare. She tried to find her phone but could not find it, so she tried to back track, and was able to see into another room, and all that was on the desk where her other phone was, was a large pile of Duct Tape!

Buried Alive

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

The counter person had thought he had seen all manner of customers while working at the industrial equipment rental store; everything from lawyers types in three piece suits to grubby hicks in bib overalls but this one really took the cake. The young man in front of him was sweating perfusly, and had a large bloody bandage made from a tee-shirt covering half his head. He had a his left arm in a homemade sling and was extremely agitated.

Buried Alive

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

The Letter

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

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

The Letter

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

The New Job

Thu, 03 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

I was amazed at last I had a decent job, for ages I had applied for every job in the local paper, but they always found one excuse after another for saying, “Sorry you are not suitable.” or “Oh so sorry the vacancy has just been filled.”

I had applied at the North Wales Research Institute for Advanced Bionics for the position of security guard working nights, I was told at the interview the plant was mass producing and making simple machines to do simple jobs automatically for homes all around the world, it seemed ok to me.

The Letter

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

2006 Shadowplay Imaging Mummification Story Contest Entrant

You walk into the hardware store

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

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

The Tomb Explorer

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

2006 Shadowplay Imaging Mummification Story Contest Entrant

Inspired by a drawing by BlackKalima

The time is during the 1910’s. The place is Egypt at the Valley of the Kings . Although having been discovered a few decades earlier, there were still regular trips to the area to try and find something new. One such group is currently onsite at a dig at what they believe to be a new tomb. Professor Emetrius Gymball is in charge, and with him are twenty students from his college who are earning extra credit during this trip. One of those students is a woman. She is just as bright as the rest of the students and just as excited to be on this trip as anyone else, maybe even more so as she is truly fascinated by the subject matter at hand. Her name is Sheila. Sheila is about 5 feet 11 inches tall, and weighs around one hundred and forty pounds. She has a fair Caucasian complexion, brown eyes, and reddish-orange hair that she keeps cut short. She would be considered relatively attractive by the standards of the day. And Sheila is very frustrated.

Angelina

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

This is how it felt to be Angela.

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

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

Angelina

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

This is how it felt to be Angela.

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

Angelina

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

This is how it felt to be Angela.

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

Love Through The Ages 2

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

story continues from part two

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

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

Love Through The Ages 2

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

story continues from part one

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

Egypt, 2006

Darkness Silence Peace Serenity I live

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

The Machine Part 4

Sat, 06 Aug 2005 00:00:00 +0000

It’s probably a good idea to read the previous machine stories, to get an idea of how the device works (which is not covered here). And in case you’re wondering, this story does not feature permenant encasment.

The Machine 4 by Darkraptor1 Based off an original idea by Naughtylittlegirl

It was a dark and stormy Friday night. The dark clouds covered the night sky, sending down torrents of rain upon the earth below.

The Sentences

Sat, 23 Jul 2005 00:00:00 +0000

This story is written in the style of Filador50’s classic story, the sentence.

Just a little warning, this story does not end happily.

The two of us stood side by side. Well, we were ten feet apart, both housed in tall steel cages, but at least we were close to each other.

The room was silent. In front of us was a panel of judges. We had been brought down into this complex two days ago, captured after my sister had made one too many phone calls from one building. After tracing the calls, agents had burst in on us. We were arrested and taken into custody.

Committed

Sat, 01 Jan 2005 00:00:00 +0000

He had been lying there for what seemed hours, completely mummified, from head to toe in white vet wrap, only his cock and nostrils sticking out. Experiencing almost total sensory deprivation and he loved it. He was gagged, his ears were plugged and padded and his eyes were padded. His arms locked together in front of him in an arm bar and then welded to his torso with more vet wrap. Occasionally, he could feel the pre-cum running down the outside of his cock with each involuntary pulse of pleasure.

Robotic Demise

Thu, 18 Apr 2002 00:00:00 +0000

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>E> wife/husband}

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.

The Machine: Model 2-A Part2

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

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

The Machine: Model-2A

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

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

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

The Machine: Model-2A

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

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

Guardians of the Vault

Mon, 28 May 2001 00:00:00 +0000

Jenny strolled into the bar the building was heavy with cigarette smoke she asked the barman for a half a lager, as she was about to pay a man leaned over, “I will pay for the ladies drink.” Jenny looked up a tall man in his twenties stood there. “You have no objection to me buying you a drink?” he asked. Jenny shrugged her shoulders the man introduced himself as “Joe LaMothe or just Joe to young girls like you.” Soon he was chatting away telling Jenny he was in town for a night’s fun before he moved on and would appreciate a bit of female company while he was in town.

The Machine

Fri, 18 May 2001 00:00:00 +0000

It had arrived by truck that morning. The delivery men had struggled to lift the crate off the truck and get it onto the moving trolley. After considerable effort they managed to move it into the space provided in the garage. After the movers had left, she looked at it and opened the attached envelope. It read:

“Dear new owner. Take care of me and I will do likewise. But do not open until one week after I have arrived. From Master X”

The Machine

Fri, 18 May 2001 00:00:00 +0000

“Dear new owner. Take care of me and I will do likewise. But do not open until one week after I have arrived. From Master X”

Jesse in Jeopardy

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

My New Mistress

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

My Mistress, and owner came in to my ‘room’, where I was spending my days in some form of bondage. Today I was inside a body suit made of an extremely thick and semi-hard rubber. It was from ankle to neck and wrist, of a soft pink color, making me look rather like a female love doll. I had on a heavy latex hood, complete with a ring gag which was also at the time filled with a rubber dildo. “My slave, I have news! I have a new slave coming in tomorrow and that means I need to move you out. I have sold you to another Mistress who has purchased you over the net. I will have to get you ready for shipment!” At this, I was given an injection into my arm, which she normally does, making me loose control of my body movements. She peeled the suit off me, taking care not to rip my manhood from its sheath in the suit. I was then placed into a latex inflatable ball with a breathing apparatus installed over my face. I hear her moving some big item around, and suddenly I am being rolled. I bump against something hard, while sideways. All of a sudden, I am tipped back upright, and I feel her connecting my breathing hose to something. “Slave, I have always cared for you, but its time for a new challenge. We’ve just become too familiar, in a rut. I told your new owner of your deep love for latex and immobilisation. Goodbye, dear slave.” And suddenly a clunk and the sound of latches being closed. I was closed up inside some kind of trunk. After a while, I felt myself being moved and jostled. I was being loaded into a truck! I heard voices saying something about having the crate at its destination in about 30 hours! Then I heard the truck’s cargo door shut, and we were off! I have no idea exactly how long it took, all I know is, it was a bumpy ride. I wonder what the driver would think if he knew a live man was trapped in an inflatable ball, locked in the crate, being delivered to some new place. Finally, I heard the door open, and I was manoeuvred around and offloaded from the truck. I felt I was being moved at a slant, likely by a truck dolly into a garage or something. But it was rather noisy sounding. Finally the case was placed on its bottom, then the sensation of going down in an elevator. Where am I going???? The elevator stopped and I was again being moved. It was certainly quieter. I was set back down and I heard the latches being opened. I was tilted over and rolled out of the crate. The pressure was subsiding on the ball and then I was pulled out of the ball, and the breathing mask removed. In front of me was a beautiful, yet strong looking woman, dressed in a white latex dominatrix outfit, and a white latex lab coat. Two males dressed in black latex catsuits, latex lab coats, and latex hoods were holding me up. “Welcome number 1701A. You are to be paired with 1701B. You were purchased from your former Mistress because of your interest in 2 things. Latex and Immobilisation. My husband and I own and run a large company. We are in my underground fetish laboratory. Here my husband and I, and our select slaves run fetish experiments, far removed from the rest of humanity. We had this place specially built, and under extreme secrecy. No one, other than my husband, in all the people in the headquarters building, and main factory above us, know that this is here. It is quite deep and totally soundproof, and secure.” “My two assistants will prepare you early in the morning for our next experiment, which will take place tomorrow at 9am. Until then, you will be confined in your cell, along with food and drink for the rest of the day. Enjoy.” She turned and walked away, and I was taken down a hallway, and led to a very plain looking room, all in white, and a very tough looking steel door at the entrance. “You will be kept here until we come to get you in the morning. There is a hot meal and drink inside for you. Enjoy it while you can.” Came a very deep voice from one of the huge latex clad guards. I entered and the door was immediately closed and locked, and I hobbled over to the small table with the food on it. I was still stiff and sore from the long trip curled up in the ball. I ate and then went over to the bed and immediately fell asleep from exhaustion. I was awoken by the two guards, and manhandled down the hall into what looked like an examination room. I was given a liquid diet meal and was led over to a basin where I was given a very thorough enema. I was then injected with some kind of paralysing agent. After it started working, I was fitted with an IV, which was placed in my upper shoulder. Next, one of them came in and shaved me completely bald, from head to toe, and they rubbed in some kind of lotion that burned a lot. After 5 or 10 minutes, they rinsed me off and towelled me dry. I was then carried over to another area where they came at me with a tray that had a box on it. They each pulled out a roll of PVC electrical tape. They began doing each toe and finger, and then they carefully wrapped my ball sack. Next, they pulled out PVC tape that was 4" wide and they each started wrapping a leg, beginning at the toes and working their way up, and they did it tight enough that the skin overhung the wrap just a little. All the way up the legs, and figure 8’ing over my rear and hips, careful not to include my ‘manhood’. Then they did my arms, from fingertip to over my shoulder, then from my waist up to my neck. Then carefully, they wrapped my neck. At this point, they super glued 12" tubes into each nostril, placed earplugs in my ears, pads over my eyes, and a 2-way dildo in my mouth, and strapped it tight, and then proceeded to wrap my head, only leaving the dildo and tubes sticking out. At this point, he was thoroughly wrapped and we brought him on his table into the next room. Here we had subject 1701B (female) wrapped similarly, except her canal was free and she had a ring-gag in her mouth which was free. We picked her up, and manoeuvred her over him, so that his open shaft went into her waiting mouth, and the dildo into her canal. Her catheter, and their IV and air tubes were carefully placed, and then they were wrapped together very tightly with Vet Wrap. Once this was accomplished, they were wrapped very tightly once more in very heavy Shrink Wrap. It was wrapped down their entire length, with just their hoses coming thru. We then took heat guns and melted the shrink-wrap into one thick layer with no seams. We then informed Mistress that subjects 1701 were now ready. She arrived a few minutes later and then informed them that the idea of the experiment was to see how long they could survive that way. We were then instructed to manoeuvre them into a steel case, hooked all their wires and tubes in the right places, and welded the case shut. It was manoeuvred down a long hallway, and thru a heavy door. Their case connections (which had monitoring equipment inside as well) were connected to the wall connections and we walked out of the room, closing the steel door, awaiting our next assignments. The end… Or is it?

The Mummy’s Curse

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

_Escape Rooms Extreme*_presents* The Tomb Raider’s Ultimate Challenge*

“And here’s another passage.

“Just need to update my little map.

“There, one more way around the traps. I’ll be able to lead my group through this in record time when they finally open up for business. Heheheh.”

Tucking a pencil back into the fanny pack the young man moves on down the passage he just found. Coming out the other end he checks his map and nods.

The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 9

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

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 8)

Chapter 9: Ice and Fire

For Cathy, the last twenty four hours or so had been a rollercoaster ride that had risen skywards and plunged the absolute depths between both ends of the emotional spectrum.

****

Having found a strange yet satisfying sexual fulfilment through Dolores’ efforts on Sunday night, she’d slept well for the first time since her capture, and had woken only when a sound from close at hand disturbed her slumbers. The memory of that brief but enlightening encounter was still fresh in her memory, as was Dolores’ assertion that Cathy would - given a few days - begin to enjoy her time spent in inescapable bondage. But was that true? Could she really learn to love the sensation of not being able to move of her own volition? Whilst the experience of last night did indeed shine brightly in her memory, it was no more than a solitary lighthouse beacon on an otherwise unlit stretch of desolate rocky shoreline.