Forniphilia on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Curious Neighbour

Thu, 11 Sep 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 4

As the weeks progressed, Rachel dove deeper and deeper into the kinky world I had opened for her. In our sessions we tested her limits and explored her passions. She was voracious. All the enthusiasm I had witnessed in her work as a designer was equally as evident in her desire to experiment in my playroom. She had little tolerance for pain, be that flogging, clamps, or uncomfortable bondage. That suited me, while many of my professional clients liked to be whipped, or degraded, it wasn’t something I relished.

Premium Playthings

Sat, 03 May 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 7

Four months after leaving her house in a crate, Lauren was shipped back home in a state of unconsciousness. For ease of transport, they had sedated her for the trip. Ben and Chad met Nick and Jake at the front door when the van pulled up.

This time Lauren wasn’t going to be living at the house. She was going to be a part of the house. After a short conversation, the two men picked her up out of the van and carried her down to the basement still mounted in her steel frame. During her transformation, Ben and Chad had decided to move their play space to the basement. Since it was just the two of them living there, they didn’t need to work as hard at keeping the secret. Now they had the entire house to play. The basement was originally unfinished, but now it was a lush living space complete with a state-of-the-art home theater, a game room, and a bar. Another room held a few bondage devices.

Premium Playthings

Sat, 26 Apr 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 6

After the 30-hour trip to St. Louis, the white van backed into the Premium Playthings loading bay. Gunner was there waiting for them as they uploaded their cargo and put her on a gurney.

“I see she has a few bruises on her. Did she give you any trouble?” Asked Gunner.

“No,” replied Jake. “I think that happened when Mr. Tyler restrained her.”

“Oh. Take her to room 3. We will start in the morning with her,” said Gunner.

Trixie or the WG

Sun, 17 Sep 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Part 1

Chapter 1: Getting to know each other

A week after her birthday, Trixie would finally put this nightmare behind her. A few years ago, she had fallen in love with Miroslav, a Serbian. He was constantly in need of money, and Trixie had manipulated invoices at her company, where she was responsible for data processing, and thus embezzled a lot of money. When the whole thing was discovered, Miroslav disappeared to Serbia and was never heard from again. Trixie was left to pick up the pieces. The receipt was three years in prison. She would be released next Monday, and she had no greater desire than to leave her past, and especially prison, far behind.

The Stox Box

Mon, 06 Sep 2021 00:00:00 +0000

Part III

On the Beach

There I was in the garage, staring at what was fast becoming my all-consuming lifetime project. My friend and co-conspirator for the malicious contraption before us was sipping on a can of some awful discount store beer. The great debate silently raging between us? What can we do to improve the Stox Box?

Despite arguments from my unsympathetic friend, I made it clear in concise terms, mixed with a quantity of forcefully expressed expletives, that Psycho Sally was not to be involved in any future adventures with the box, at least those where I was inside. My gullible friend’s protests about her good intentions fell on deaf ears; I knew better.

The Stox Box

Mon, 21 Jun 2021 00:00:00 +0000

Part II

Party Night Plan

Saturday night was fast approaching. Thanks to frantic woodworking practically around the clock I had just finished the last of the Stox Box modifications in time for the debut at the local bondage party. The plan was to make a surprise debut for maximum impact.

As usual my invaluable friend would help me get ready. Once in the box it would be a quick truck ride to the party room. There I’d be covered in a tablecloth with the usual socializing eats and drinks laid out on top of me. Once the preliminaries were finished and cleared away one of the dominants at the party would unveil the box, with me inside. I planned to spend the entire evening in place, as it were, until freed later in the evening. As usual the release time was set by my friend, and deliberately kept from me until the last moment. I’d pick up the box the next day.

Hatsu Can't Catch A Break

Sat, 08 Aug 2020 00:00:00 +0000

“Hatsu, you are late.”

That wasn’t how he wanted to be introduced. He stepped and stood at attention in front of the other serving staff. Each of them wore the same functional black polo shirts and pants they had been given. He was already eager to get out of it and the shift hadn’t even begun.

“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. The young man tilted his head slightly, closed his eyes and smiled. His shoulders rose as he shrugged. “I don’t know what happened, I’m -”

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.

Entering Rubber Society 5: The Office

Sun, 29 Jun 2014 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part four Part 5: The Office

Katherine exited the automated cab as gracefully as she had entered. Her tall white latex figure drew admiring glances from the passers-by as she stepped to the entrance of the News and Entertainment building, a tall black glass monolith of a structure from the previous century.

Walking through the building lobby, she was conscious of the stares of others, both the rubbered and the unrubbered. She decided confidence was the best option and walked in quick, if tiny, steps to the security portal.

Go Green

Fri, 24 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Part One: Arrival

Her eyes open, but nothing changes. It’s just as dark. She breathes in.

When plants are caught in absolute darkness, a substance in them called auxin stretches their stems out, until they die. That’s why when you leave a plant in a closet it turns a ghostly pale, warped and disfigured.

Our plant is stretching; she’s been in the dark for hours unknown. She slowly, progressively becomes more aware of her situation. She first realizes that it is dark; then she notices the cool feel of plastic against her exposed skin (that’s when she deduces her nudity); she then realizes that her hands are tied together behind her back. It is hard to breathe.

Party Installation

Tue, 21 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

First attempt at writing something for YEARS! Thanks a lot to JG Leathers and Grimly for being alive and giving the rest of us ideas and concepts to “steal”. (Marcus is the owner of the website A Thing for Rubber: www.a-thing.se, so check out his great images and enjoy the rubbery goodness).

At 37 years of age Linda was not overly pleased with her sex life. Having had a few semi-serious relationships in her life none of them had ever lasted. She was not sure why, they just hadn’t. The outside observer could have guessed it had something to do with her fetish for latex and BDSM but the recent relationships had been with men very much into that scene. Thinking yet again about what she thought was something wrong with her she dismissed it, as she always did, with maybe she never could relay what she really craved from her partners. She was not sure she even knew that herself. Childless and with a good career in banking, she could at least pamper herself with good quality latex and BDSM gear and had become really good at pleasing herself when others failed to do so. Still,there was something missing. She looked up and out of the window of the train that took her further and further away from the buzzing city jungle and replaced it with the more subtle low-key scenery of the suburbs. The advertisement on the website she most frequented had asked for a female willing to be part of a party as an installation. The list of prerequisites had been impressive but she had become hooked from the second she read them. Words such as fornifilia, immobile, bondage, long-term, latex, breath play, and stimulation had sent shivers down her spine. The words “must be able to endure” on the top of the list made them seem all that more charged with erotic sensation. There were also words she did not feel that enthusiastic about. Wet for instance. She did somewhat enjoy looking at wet video clips online or as part of a live performance but had never tried it herself. The fact that she had answered the advertisement and was now on her way to be part of the party told her she might not be as bothered with the words on the list she did not like that much after all. As she exited the train the platform was empty. At first she got a bit worried she might have gotten the station wrong but before she could think too much about it a couple appeared and came walking up to her. “Linda?” The woman asked. “Yes”, Linda replied. “So sorry we are a bit late. We lost track of time setting up your gear back at the house. Have you been waiting long?” “No, just a few minutes.” “Well it is a real pleasure to meet you. I am Kate Still and this is my husband George.” Kate and George could have been around 45-50 years old and looked like the typical suburban couple. Nothing stood out in the way they looked, presented themselves or spoke. They were totally and utterly normal. They shook hands and when the formalities were over George offered to carry Linda’s bag and they all walked out of the station and into the couple’s car. The drive to the house was not far and Linda thought it was for the best since the ride was done in complete silence. She started to get aroused thinking about what she had gotten herself into. Her payment for her ‘service’ had been paid in advance and she had gotten, signed, and sent back a contract describing her commitments, what limits she had set and finally a confidentiality agreement between the two parties. The Still’s house was situated at the end of a road with little or no overlook from any neighbours. It was a two story building on a slope with what looked like a cellar floor with its own entrance. George told Linda to go right inside the cellar where the party was to be held and also to get dressed as they had agreed on. Once finished she could just call up the stairs to the main floor that she was ready and the Stills would come down and set her up. ‘Set her up’ The three words made her feel aroused in a way she never felt before. Could this be what she had been missing all along? To be used by strangers in ways she did not fully control. Sure, the contract stated her terms, but since she had given them free rein as long as she was not hurt permanently she also felt scared, in a rather good, erotic way. The cellar was not a cellar at all but a floor with what seemed like a few rooms and a staircase leading up to the main floor. The living room she was now standing in looked like a small pub. White walls with framed photographs of the typical city themes you buy at a poster store. There was a small bar in one end with high chairs. On the opposite side there was the stairwell. Besides the stairwell a dark corridor lead further in to what she guessed were bedrooms or storage spaces. Embedded ceiling lights lit up the room and in the centre of the room three sofas made an open square towards the back wall. A low table was put in the middle of the wooden floor. There were no carpets. It was, however, not the rather meek design choice that caught Linda’s attention the steel bondage frame in front of the back wall was. It was placed so the occupants of the sofas would have a very good view of whatever was strapped into it. Two spotlights in the ceiling made it shine and was definitely the main attraction of the room. Linda put down her bag, passed the sofas, and walked up to the frame to have a closer look. The wooden floor creaked quietly as she moved over it. The frame was clearly custom-made for the Stills it might even have been home-made. The main part of it was two thick steel rods securely bolted to the floor. Between them was a thin padded board must be a backrest she thought. A bit over her shoulder level two twin rods went horizontally outwards from the main frames, for securing the occupant’s arms no less. All rods were moderately donned with thick rubber straps with locking buckles. Whoever was strapped in was going nowhere unless let loose. Around where the head would be a similar lightly-padded disk was placed between the main rods forming what must have been a head rest. Around it were, of course, more of the rubber straps. Before she started to fantasize about being strapped into it she focused on her part of this evening and went back to her bag. Opening the zipper the lovely odour of new, well cared for latex and leather hit her nostrils. Getting more aroused yet again she quickly took all the items out of it and placed them in the order she would put them on so not to miss anything. She quickly stripped and placed her folded street clothes on one of the steps of the stairwell. This was it. She was standing butt naked in a house she never had been to, owned by a couple she just met and would soon be made into an installation for their and their guest’s entertainment. A feeling of fulfilment, expectation and happiness filled her. Stepping up to the sofa she took out a large towel and a small bottle of silicone dress aid. Placing the towel on the floor and stepping on to it she richly applied the silicone to her whole body. Her totally shaved body, except for her head that is, was glistening in the lights. She took her black latex catsuit and started to put it on. It was custom-fitted to her and featured a 3-way zipper in the back through her crotch, with cups for her breasts that also had zips for easy access. She loved the hugging feeling of the suit as it engulfed her. A string through the zipper made it easy to close it even though it was placed in the back. Once zipped up she removed the string and continued to dress. Next item was a pair of red thigh-high stockings with black trim. Her heavy red, rubber corset was next. It had been made extra thick as per her wishes and felt more like a strict leather corset instead of the often more forgiving rubber counterparts. She donned it with experienced hands and tightened it as best as she could in the back. To be tightened to her preference someone would have to do it for her but she had told the Stills she needed help with it. The four suspenders hanging down in front and the sides of the corset were fastened to the stockings to make sure they would not roll down. A pair of red knee-high, patent leather, ballet boots was put on next. Made by an Italian shoemaker they, as well as the rest of her outfit, was custom-made to her measurements and fitted her perfectly. She cursed herself for forgetting to put them on prior to the corset since bending over with it on was near impossible. Since she had not managed to tighten the corset fully she had just about enough flexibility to bend over and tighten the laces. She sat on the armrest of one of the sofas as she always tightened the laces, always doing so in several sequences until the fronts met and made a perfect seal. She loved the feeling of her feet crushed inside them and forced into the extreme downwards angle. Standing up, she pitter-pattered to a halt once she found her balance. The lacing had made her hot and she was staring to sweat. She would have loved to have a mirror to look in as she loved to see her transformation but there was none to be found in the room. Having caught her breath she picked up the next item, a black latex hood, with openings for mouth, nostrils and eyes. Zipping it up in the back she tucked it in tight under the collar of the catsuit. All that was left were her opera gloves in red latex with black trim, matching her stockings. Once on she paused for a minute and then called up the stairs: " I am ready." As if they had been waiting with their hands on the handle a door opened at the top of the stairs and the Stills both came down the stairs. “You look absolutely perfect and exactly as in the photo you sent that we agreed upon”, Kate said and moved over to Linda. She circled around her touching the garments and with a very accepting look. “This is some very, very good craftsmanship”, she said and took Linda’s hand leading her towards the bar and placed her on one of the high chairs. “Now for your make up”, Kate said. As she opened a makeup case and started to make up the parts of Linda’s face not covered by latex, having watched the two of them, George moved behind the bar and turned on some smooth lounge music. He then moved over to the sofa and took a seat where he could watch his wife in action. Linda felt like one of those make-up dolls you get as a child well a very kinky version of them anyway. Kate was very good at what she was doing and once done picked up a mirror out of the case holding it so that Linda could see the results of her work. It must have shown that she loved it since Kate suddenly said: “Oh you like it? I am so glad you do! " “I love it”, was Linda’s reply. The makeup was a mix of red and black matching the colours of her latex perfectly. Kate had managed to give Linda a ‘fuck me now’ look without making it look trashy or slutty. Kate spoke again: “Now, from this point on you are ours. You will not speak unless permitted to, follow our instructions and let us do to you as we see fit as per the terms in our contract.” Linda almost spoke to say yes but stopped just in time to remain silent. “Now move over to the bondage frame and George will add some final parts to your outfit.” Linda stood up and walked with relative ease over to the frame where George now was standing with a plastic box at his feet filled with what looked like bondage gear. “Turn around please”, he said and Linda complied turning her back to him. “I will place a modified gas mask over your face. Now do not be alarmed, you will be able to breathe in it just fine”. George took something out of the box and sure enough a gas mask was put to her face and the straps pulled over and tightened around her head. What he had not mentioned was that the full face visor was solid, making everything completely black. Linda was trying not to panic but it felt a bit scary not seeing anything. Suddenly she felt her hands being pulled forwards and placed on a pair of shoulders in front of her.

The Further Training of 'S' 3: Each time we meet I shall beat you!

Sun, 17 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

continued from part 2

Chapter 3: Each time we meet I shall beat you!

‘S’ was deeply asleep snuggled within the warm caress of her clinging black latex nest oblivious to the happenings in the training room in preparation for her next visit.

The Trainer was laying out the equipment necessary to complete the programme. Back in the study the Mistress and Master were discussing the progress of the sleeping slave over a cup of coffee. It was late morning and they were totalling up the demerit chart of her and the resident female and male slaves.

Installation 5: Furniture

Tue, 02 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Installation 5: Furniture

“Well I think it’s good, don’t you?” asked Carlos.

“Yes. You know I do,” replied Valentina.

“Yeah but I need reassurance,” added Carlos.

“Right, but then don’t we all?” added Valentina in a quizzical tone.

“Even though both of us created this, it still needed to be asked. Besides, it’s how it looks within its surroundings,” said Valentina.

“That’s what I really wanted to know,” said Carlos.

Ding Dong

Sat, 24 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Ding Dong by James Smith M/f; model; costume; maid; photo; drug; strip; bond; gag; encase; insert; toys; electro; cupboard; forniphilia; object; cons/nc; X

The girl stood on the front porch. She was tall and lithe, unusually pretty, her lightly tanned face framed exquisitely by her long, dark hair. Her wavy locks, raven black and shining in the morning sun, cascaded halfway down her back. The girl was indeed pretty – but her hair was startling beautiful, the kind of hair that drew admiring stares from men and envious glances from women.

Metaphysics

Fri, 18 Mar 2005 00:00:00 +0000

I had a moment of metaphysical vertigo last night, lying on my back in the garden gazing up at the stars.

So many stars, all wheeling round the zodiac; billions upon trillions, with countless millions of little rocky planets, all asking questions… not spiritual, but more earthy. What the hell is all this? What is matter made from? Why does it all exist? Where is existence located?

Somewhere above me, on one of the spinning worlds an alien woman surely lay on her back in her garden, gazing back at me, and wondering the same things.

Total Rubber Occlusion

Sun, 28 Sep 2003 00:00:00 +0000

Charlotte stared out across the bedroom and sighed softly, weary of waiting for her beloved mistress to return. She normally managed to survive these periods of inactivity without any difficulty, but on this occasion felt the slow passage of time more acutely than usual. Sometimes she was able to doze when Victoria was out shopping or visiting friends, but now a gnawing excitement prevented such a pleasant escape. She knew something very special was about to happen and an almost juvenile anticipation made sleep impossible. The thought of Victoria aroused her, as it always did. Images of exquisite eroticism filled her mind. She had always been deeply submissive, the source of her natural deference being alopecia which struck cruelly during her late teens. Hounded by cruelty from her peers and deprived of friends by her striking nakedness, she retreated into a private world, an unsure, sometimes frightened young woman who saw no future in a society that placed so much store on physical perfection.

Total Rubber Occlusion

Thu, 10 May 2001 00:00:00 +0000