<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Legirons on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/legirons/</link><description>Recent content in Legirons on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:46 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/legirons/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Sunday Church</title><link>/stories/2018/11/04/sunday-church/</link><pubDate>Sun, 04 Nov 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/11/04/sunday-church/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;So my guy and I have this thing about (occasionally) doing things that could really get us in
trouble - gives life some excitement. This is one of those stories.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;My guy and I regularly chat about our sex life, and if we have any cravings, fantasies that we
want to live out, things like that. It had been a few months since we did any “dangerous”
bondage activities, and honestly I missed it. Don’t get me wrong, I get tied up on a very regular
basis, and I absolutely love it. But there’s something about the thrill, however small it may be, of
getting caught that can totally bring it up a notch.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Trains</title><link>/stories/2015/11/09/trains/</link><pubDate>Mon, 09 Nov 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/11/09/trains/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;WARNING
Do &lt;strong&gt;NOT&lt;/strong&gt; try this at home, the story is presented here as a &lt;strong&gt;fantasy only&lt;/strong&gt;,
to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I was fortunate to live near enough to a train&amp;rsquo;s spur line used for parking freight cars, actually fortune had little to do with it as I selected this rental specifically. It wasa somewhat short hike over the mountain from my present house, close enough to hear the train&amp;rsquo;s impossibly loudhorns when the wind was right, but unfortunately far enough away that I couldn&amp;rsquo;tfeel the rumble of their passage there. I had grown up near a set of heavily used tracks, their rumble becoming a common and welcome sound at night that might have disturbed the sleep of most normal people.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Vicki Does a Runner</title><link>/stories/2014/08/28/vicki-does-a-runner/</link><pubDate>Thu, 28 Aug 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/08/28/vicki-does-a-runner/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in autumn; Vicki had walked to the local shops to grab some bits and bobs for lunch. As normal for a Sunday we had been playing beforehand so she had decided as she often does to simply wear what she was wearing around the house. Vicki liked to get the curtains twitching in our little village, today she was wearing suede thigh boots, leather mini skirt, with a simple cropped denim Gillet. She had a whole bunch of bangles on each arm, mostly because she liked the jingle when she moved, but they also help to cover up the handcuff marks on her wrists!&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Shovel the Snow - or Else!</title><link>/stories/2014/03/30/shovel-the-snow-or-else/</link><pubDate>Sun, 30 Mar 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/03/30/shovel-the-snow-or-else/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;“He’s pissed me off one too many times the last few weeks”, I tell myself one day… “If he won’t shovel the *&amp;amp;@#in driveway next time it snows, he’ll pay for it!”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;There’s been a tonne of snow this year – and we’ve got a long driveway. At one end he’s put a post up to help light the driveway at night. We’ve kept the driveway fairly clear, but there’s no more room for the snow.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Kristine’s Diary</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/kristines-diary/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/kristines-diary/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;My bondage passion all started when I was nearly 18. I was home from school, and my mom was out. The doorbell had rung - it was a delivery man, with a package for mom. He let me sign. It was a heavy box, filled with objects which moved around when the box was moved. I was curious and opened the box, finding a variety of &amp;lsquo;gear&amp;rsquo; - handcuffs, dildos, leg irons and leather harness. Not knowing what some of this stuff was used for, I got the picture with some of the other stuff, and put two and two together. Smart for a teenager. I ran upstairs with the box of goods, locked my bedroom door, and dumped the contents on the bed.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>