Lycra

I had felt myself flushing the first time I saw the testing machine in the basement. Thankfully no-one noticed my response, but since I saw it, I had been making plans for the testing machine. We (the Royal We, our company) made carpets and rugs. And deep in the basement was the testing department. One of the machines in the testing department was guaranteed to make every submissive go weak at the knees. ...

Part One The front door to the apartment opens, letting in the only light to the darkened rooms. The relatively tall woman steps in, hanging her purse on a hook with a half dozen others just like it but of different color. She drops her keys on the table and heads to the right to the fridge. Pulling it open, she grabs a bottle of water. Snapping off the lid, she tilts it up and begins to empty it into her mouth. As she downs the drink, we take a look at her attire, which seems mismatched. She has a lycra skirt that goes down to her ankles, giving her a more formal look. It looks very stretchy, following her every move but also quite tight. Her lycra tank top gives her the look that she just left the gym, showing off her fit arms, tight stomach, and cleavage to spare. Finally, her shoes resemble a flip-flop, giving her a very casual appearance. As to colors, everything matches perfectly, so she obviously planned it that way, but her style seems odd to say the least. Finishing the water, she drops it in the trash and heads to the bedroom. Crossing that threshold, she begins stripping, not even bothering with the lights. Her lycra-ware slides off easily, finding itself being pitched near the clothes hamper. She does not seem to notice, as she moves to a strange looking workout bench. Straddling it, she positions herself on it like riding a motorcycle. Laying on her belly, she careful inserts her breasts into the holes on the cushioned bench. Resting her head down into the hollow end, she pushes the start button on the side. With a quiet hum, the “workout” bench vibrates as she repositions her feet and hands on the sides. Looking closely, you can see her body sinking down into the bench for a few seconds, only to rise back up. With no other fanfare, she sits up. From her silhouette, we know she is missing something now. Her chest is now flat, completely flat. As she stands up, her waist is not so tight, her sultry curves now gone. But most surprising is the added weight, just below her waist. It looks like she has… “Man, I need a beer,” comes the deep voice, “Hope the game is still on.” Removing the long hair, he or she drops the wig onto the chair by the bed, revealing a clean shaven head. Walking out of the bedroom, he pushes the answering machine button. As it processes that, he grabs two beers from the fridge. Opening one with his mouth, he spits the cap into the garbage with the water bottle. As he passes the machine he hears, “message one: (male voice) Oschianna, don’t forget we are at O’Mulligans if you wanna come.” Smiling, he mumbles, “Not in your lifetime, sleazeball.” “msg 2: (female voice) Patton, your 9 o’clock canceled tomorrow, so your first session is as 9:30. Bye!” Smiling again, he says, “Great! An extra hour of sleep.” “msg 3: (male voice) Yo, Pat, it’s Rog! Call me, bud. It’s been forever.”I know it, miss you too Roger-buddy, he thinks. “msg 4: (female voice) Hey, Pat, it’s me, Shirley. I just wanted to see if your alimony check could be a couple of days early. I hate to ask, because you have somehow managed to make your payments every month now and it has been great stability for the kids. I know I appreciate it, so if you can’t, I understand. (long pause) Thanks.” With TV blaring now, Patton can only think on that last message. *Why do I hate someone that I still love so much?*Finishing his first beer, he pops the next top off and watches another score by the opposing team. Glad I did not bet on this one, he thinks. Course, I would not have bet on me either a couple of years ago. After the divorce, he had to pay alimony like all men, but his golf pro job was not enough. For him, it is the dream job: play a round of golf Saturday morning, teach rich people to play all day, wrap up the day with another round, then come home and repeat on Sunday. “Take the rest of the week off,” he whispers with satisfaction. But then the alimony amount kept going up, as his lawyer had to pay his own alimony through his court cases. Patton was stuck paying 3 times the normal amount, but he was locked in now. As much as he hated having a higher payment, he would do anything for his kids…anything! That was good, because he needed another job. There were none to be found and that first big payment was coming quick. There were ads for humannequins but only female openings. The pay out was huge (how could you make so much for doing so little?), but how could he work that? His buddy in the visual arts business sold him a Transgendinator for basically nothing (a year supply of golf lessons). With some quick modifications, Patton became Ochsianna of Russia (he really did not like the whole Russian thing, but the machine alters his voice, giving him a slight Russian accent). The Transgendinator makes a woman out of a man, and vice versa. It will add female breasts, shift the hips slightly as it removes and stores the man’s unit, while slimming the waist and face. The process is mostly painless, but not quite. So, Patten uses it Monday morning and stays Ochsianna all week. On Friday night, she becomes Patton for the weekend. His cover story matches well enough for the not-so-nosy neighbors: Patton and Ochsianna live together as a couple. Their jobs have alternating shifts, so you rarely (actually never) see them together. He must have drifted off thinking about it all, because the room is getting brighter from the sun rising. Checking the clock in the kitchen, “6 already?” rubbing his bald head, he rushes to get a quick shower. Exiting the bathroom, he dresses in polo and khakis. He adds a crew cut wig, applying some added scalp glue to hold it tight. Picking up the gold bag and hat, Patton heads out the door, ignoring the keys on the table, but grabbing another set hanging on the opposite wall. Down the lift 8 floors, he strides out to his car. Popping the trunk, the golf bag is in and he is on the road within seconds. Like every Saturday and Sunday, he enjoys every part of the weekend. He gets to play 4 rounds of golf for free in Holo-golf Tower. Each floor is filled with many rooms, allowing paying customers to play any course they want in history in any weather. You bring real clubs and the Holo-golf Tower does the rest. Since it is so realistic, you still need a golf pro to help you out, leaving Patten with the best job in the world. Unfortunately, it is probably the least paying job as well, which led him down the road to modeling clothes for big retail stores. ...

Part 1 Alexandra applauded, almost giddy over the last minute goal, as the conquering hero skated in her direction. She stood up and waved from behind the plexiglass barricade that separated her front row seat from the action on the ice. Suddenly, Alexandra winced as number 23 leaned back sharply, sending a wave of ice crystals pelting against the clear shield in front of her. Looking around in embarrassment, Alexandra saw that most, if not all of the people in the sparsely populated stadium, had not noticed the blatant display of bravado. She turned back to the ice just in time to see the devilish grin that had melted her heart on so many occasions. But this time, Alexandra made a mental note of this incident, filling it away even as she went back to cheering for her boyfriend. ...

Part 1: There has been a mistake here. “Look, there has clearly been a mistake here” “Madame, allow me to assure you that you are mistaken. Your order has been processed exactly as you placed it. I have it on the computer in front of me” “And I assure you that this is not what I ordered” “Madame, I have to tell you that you have received exactly what you ordered. 1 large size child’s doll. Snow White type. And that is all you will be charged for” ...

Short description: After a college girl Sarah accidentally sees the private pantyhose encasement video starring her dance instructor Janet, she gets intrigued by the fetish and decides to explore it fully by asking the same instructor for guidance. Part 1. “Yes my dears, and to learn the technique properly I’ll give you my private recordings of dance performances when I was your age. Luckily I still kept the footage at the bottom of some old stash. I know that you attend my classes for the fitness aspect, but try to learn some pro moves too.” ...

I am a happily married fortysomething, who loves his wife more than life itself. Maybe that is the reason that ‘straying’ is only ever as far as taking matters into my own hands, as such. I worry sometimes that something isn’t quite right with me. I am almost always like a dog on heat and have some mildly kinky ideas and items squirreled away. My wife is a decade younger than me, but she doesn’t like anything kinky, although she has tried dressing up, role playing and tying up with me in the first throes of our relationship. She also appears to be more grounded in reality and lovemaking is great, but vanilla and a little less frequent than my desires. ...

I thought my day couldn’t get any more messed up, but boy was I wrong. It all started when I got on the wrong side of a bunch of thugs in the inner city. They decided I looked too “well off” for their part of town, in my torn jeans, ragged tee and sneakers, and had cornered me in a side alley, away from the main drag. I had had my wallet taken, my sneakers stolen, and they were in the process of removing my jeans when things changed. ...

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story features the characters of Geoffrey Holmes and his sexy Chinese torturer Su-Lin, who appear in the stories: “Drip, Drip”; “Stop Yer Tickling!”; “Cutting It Fine”; and “A Wrap for Christmas”. My apologies if I’ve got details of the Chinese school uniform wrong. For once Geoffrey Holmes wasn’t laid out entirely naked on the table. He’d been given a pair of Prussian-blue Lycra briefs to wear before he’d been strapped down with his arms by his sides and his legs spread out. He felt his penis stretch against the Lycra. ...

Waking up, sometimes, can be rather difficult to do, especially when you know that you were drugged the night before. Or, at least you HOPE it was only the night before. And this time, it was far worse than the first times. So many things have changed about me from the first time I was drugged, unwittingly and unwillingly, though as I look back, I can’t really say that I am upset about the outcome of each of these times. Well, I have to admit that I was, kind of, pissed off the first time, as I never really expected something like that. But that was quite some time ago and now, well, I guess it was all for the best. ...

The pink delivery van pulled up to the curb, the large FeD Ex logon in stark black on its side. “He’s here.” “Aw, Dad, do I have to?” “Mina we’ve been through this. Driving would take days and flying is too expensive.” “But, Dad-” “No, Mina.” “Mom?” “Honey, we all agreed.” The doorbell rang. “Hi. I’m Jeff. If you would just read and sign the form we can be on our way.” ...

I’ve had a lot of memorable adventures. I’m an avid crossdresser, so being bound while wearing at least hosiery and leotards is natural for me, affording me the most eroticism and intense sensations. One time, I dressed up wearing black Lycra tights and a black short-sleeved Lycra leotard. Underneath the leotards, I had on a pair of old tights, with the crotch-lining cut out for my head to pass through. This way my arms were covered, and my hands were covered like thumbless mittens, making finger dexterity difficult. To complete the ensemble, I wore black 4 inch heeled shoes. This made walking interesting, especially on a surface I planned to be on. ...

There were always little rituals to be observed and even the smallest of goals to be achieved in the space of a day. They were the routines and the mental talismans that kept Hannah’s overactive brain in check and allowed her to manage the obsessive nature of her thoughts from one hour to the next without spinning out of control. Deprived of their comfort and familiar nature she was often scared to imagine what might happen to the complicated interior world that was her own mind. ...

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 Master Ian prepares his new little slave girl for her captivity. This play is going to be one of endurance and layered confinement. Combining all of her masters techniques both in breath play and bondage. Jenni’s body shivers in anticipation at what is to come. So many items laid out on the bed, she gulps at the mere thought of being encased in all that. ...

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. It was the night of the big performance; after weeks of training and preparation Diane was finally ready for the big one. Tonight was going to be such a thrill not only for the audience but secretly for her too. The idea of the big plastic bag trick was her masters, alias ‘The Great Magic Ian’. At first she was a little apprehensive about the trick and the thought of being inside a tight plastic bag with little air frightened her at first. Obviously Ian had reassured her that she would be ok but still it took great courage to get into the bag for the first time. However once she had got over the initial fears it turned out to be a rather enjoyable experience. Up to now their play had been confined to the privacy of their own bedroom, but Ian had got an opportunity to perform in Amsterdam at the famous ‘Cirque de orgasmic’; a sort of cross between a circus and a sex show. The idea of performing her trick in front of people made Diane even more excited. ...

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. It had been a while since Ian had taken his little slave girl to the edge and he thought it was about time she had a work out. That evening when he returned from work he whispered in Diane’s ear that tonight was going to be special and throughout dinner her mind wandered to thoughts of breath play. Ian left the table early to go upstairs and prepare for Diane’s play. He had a surprise for her too, which he had purchased that very afternoon from the local sports shop; he looked forward to seeing the look on her face when she saw what he had bought for her. ...

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Ian looked longingly into Diane’s eyes, that knowing look of lustful desire and deep love, trust and respect. The passion was clear to see and a heavy tension filled the air as they held each other in passionate embrace. For a moment all thoughts of who was the master or the slave where gone; just two people joined in total oneness and an overwhelming sense of loving. Already aroused, the two undressed and Ian prepared the equipment to be used, slowly and carefully. Diane lay on the bed and prepared herself mentally; assumed the role of the submissive, happy to be dominated by this man, totally in his power, but without trepidation or fear. All kinds of thoughts ran through her head as Ian laid out the things neatly on the bed. Occasionally he would stop and give her a reassuring peck on the cheek or bend over to tweak her nipples. The erotic tension was building already and she felt the first dewy drops of moisture on her pussy lips. ...

I wrote these stories some time in the past and would like to have you publish them in the memory of my partner Diane who sadly passed away this year after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed; I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers they can appreciate how much fun we had acting out these fantasies. It had been a while since Ian had taken his little slave girl to the edge and he thought it was about time she had a work out. That evening when he returned from work he whispered in Diane’s ear that tonight was going to be special and throughout dinner her mind wandered to thoughts of breath play. Ian left the table early to go upstairs and prepare for Diane’s play. He had a surprise for her too, which he had purchased that very afternoon from the local sports shop; he looked forward to seeing the look on her face when she saw what he had bought for her. ...

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Master leads Diane his slave girl to the bedroom, he can see the excitement in her eyes as he crushes her soft hand in his. He has all the equipment ready laid out on the bed and she looks at this with trepidation at first but then a quiver runs through her whole body as she realises how good this will feel. ...

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. This story follows on from “That’s Magic” Part 2: Bag Play Now that master was satisfied that his little slave girl was happy with the bag he knew it was time to take it to another level. As she lay there naked on the bed gently playing with herself he prepared the things for the mega play. Firstly he dressed her up in the full tights suit including the soft silky face mask stocking. He stroked up and down her body as he smoothed the soft Lycra into place. He dwelled slightly around her nipples and pussy. ...

This story was an entry into the 2010 Winter Fetish Story Contest For as long as I can remember I have been in love with lycra. The feeling of it is amazing, it’s soft touch, it’s stretchiness, but what I love most is wearing it, and the look of someone else wearing it. The way it stretches over the body, covering, and displaying everything, and then the way it feels as your touch said body in lycra… well to me it’s the greatest feeling ever. ...

I laid out all the supplies on my bed. There was a gallon of flesh-colored thick liquid latex, a sprayer, and a stocking thin nude lycra catsuit. I spread a plastic sheet on the floor and waited. My partners in my little fantasy, Kelli and April, returned from their little outing laden with bags from Victoria’s Secret. “Matt, you have no idea how much fun we are going to have!”, Kelli exclaimed. I did indeed know how much fun I was going to have. It was my fantasy…… to become a living doll for my two best friends. But not just any doll…… I was to be perfected….. I wanted to be a beautiful female doll. ...

The following is partially a work of fiction and partly true. You can imagine where the line between truth and fiction falls, but you’ll see for yourself that I am not a fiction writer and I am mostly writing from first hand experience. It really started several years ago when I discovered that the tight feeling induced by tights, stockings, leotards, etc. could be really exciting. I’ve experimented with various articles and the opportunities that each presented. Full body unitards, long sleeved and footed, are probably my favorite all around exciting article, but they present problems in making any final contact, usually resulting in the need for immediate cleaning. Although somewhat unsatisfying for a close encounter to my wife, it adds “spice” to an otherwise very straight relationship for variety. ...

Willoughby was thinking of not going. He had always been shy of girls. With a name like his, they always seemed to get round to eventually making fun of him. He had never got beyond the first date. Sex is right out of the question for him. If only he had the nerve. It was a matter of luck that he saw the dirty piece of paper in the street. He picked it up to throw it in the rubbish bin, but it puzzled him. He had to look at it. It was an advert for a singles bondage club. ...

Ian slowly undressed his little slave girl and placed her on the bed at one side, while he got the items for tonight’s play from the wardrobe. He surveyed Diane with awe as she lay there on the top sheet; the duvet was needed elsewhere. Such an obedient little sex slave she was. He carefully took the duvet out from its cover and rolled it up neatly along side all the other items. Diane watched with glee as one by one the items were placed beside her body ready for her Master’s use. Already she was tingling in her pussy at the thought of the enjoyment she was about to have. ...

Ian undressed his little slave girl ready for her pre-bondage bath. He liked to pamper her beforehand to give her that sense of belonging; not merely one of his possessions. Kissing her passionately as he slowly bathed her eager body. Every nerve jingling at the impending games. He then wrapped Diane in a large fluffy towel and led her to the bedroom. She felt like she was the most loved sex slave in the whole world as her Master sat her down on the edge of the bed and held her tightly in his strong arms. He kissed her again and told her he loved her. She looked longingly into his passionate eyes, before surveying the equipment for tonight’s play on the bed. Her eyes then drifted towards the open plastic storage container at the foot of the bed. A shiver went down her spine as she saw it gleaming in the light. Her thoughts turned to of how she would possibly fit inside that small space, making her pussy twitch slightly. Her Master had particularly made the point of telling her its dimensions to further enhance the effect. Thirty-two inches long, seventeen inches wide and a mere fifteen inches deep. It seemed almost impossible that her little body could squeeze into such a space. ...

I have been into cross dressing and tight inescapable bondage for as long as I can remember, and my need to push the envelope got stronger all the time. The times of dressing up and binding myself at home were long gone as far as the ultimate excitement. Now I found myself going out into the outside world, where the risk of been seen were much greater. Thanks to the internet and such places as the sub shop, and of course E bay, I had gathered an extensive collection of toys, restraints, and clothes. My favorites include the body hugging lyra exeunt cat suits, and well pretty much anything tight. ...

I have been into cross dressing and tight inescapable bondage for as long as I can remember, and my need to push the envelope got stronger all the time. The times of dressing up and binding myself at home were long gone as far as the ultimate excitement. Now I found myself going out into the outside world, where the risk of been seen were much greater. Thanks to the internet and such places as the sub shop, and of course E bay, I had gathered an extensive collection of toys, restraints, and clothes. My favorites include the body hugging lycra exeunt cat suits, and well pretty much anything tight. ...

Finding the address had been simple in it self, obviously no one was supposed to check all the accounts. So later that night she stood in the shadows across from the warehouse of the plastic novelty company, waiting till the coast was clear for her to have a closer look at the business that funds from her business accounts had been diverted to. A short while later she saw her ex-manger leave the warehouse and drive off, the reason she had gotten rid of him as a manger, was that she thought he had been embezzling her money, but could never find anything, until the day she had found that payment slip in her office and had checked the number, to find that her production company had paid the plastic novelty co over 20 thousand dollars for props that she knew they never used. ...

A daydream by candy I don’t know how much, if any of this will make sense to you, as it has taken me years to make sense of the confusion that was my life for so, so long. Thinking back what will be more than 2yrs ago this August, I married John after knowing him as a friend for years and years growing up. We didn’t really date, like most couples do… it was just, well… like we just knew we were meant to be together forever. He finally asked me to marry him and I eagerly accepted his proposal. ...

Going For A Self-Bondage Walk by Leotardguy Going For A Self-Bondage Walk by Leotardguy This is a completely true story. Bondage to me not only felt good but it also could be used as a way of creating the humiliation which I so much craved. (And I haven’t the slightest idea why.) At Halloween I would always find a costume which would mesh the two, most often going as a black cat in leotard and tights, with a collar locked on my neck that also locked the zipper of the leotard. I fondly remember a bunch of girls who were dressed in roller derby costumes who took a look at my collar and exclaimed, “You’re locked in!” I loved it. ...

Trapped & Ready for Torment by Leotardguy Trapped & Ready for Torment by Leotardguy My fetish is a little different from others. It started when my sister was in dance classes and I used to sneak into her room and put on her leotard and tights when I was home alone. I loved the snug feel of the material on my skin! I was ten at the time. Good thing I had not reached puberty or I would have had a problem, as you will see from my future history. When I was in college, I told my girlfriend Susan how great she looked in her exercise outfit when she came over one time en route to an exercise class. I told her my secret but only in the briefest detail to make her think it was a youthful fetish. She suggested that I could stand to shed a few pounds and that I join her in the class. I agreed that I would start the following week. I showed up for class in shorts and t-shirt and was informed by the instructor that the correct, and only, clothing for the class was a leotard and tights; I could see that all the others were dressed that way, in a variety of styles and colors. Knowing that my mindset was already in that direction, even though I had not worn a leotard and tights for a few years - - ever since I grew more than my older sister and could no longer wear hers - - my girlfriend offered to take me shopping. We selected a pair of black tights and a red tank leotard; she had me model them in front of the sales clerk who commented how good I looked in them. One problem was to get my crotch down to the smallest possible size, since it was out in the open. I tried a jockstrap but that bunched it all up. I am not well hung but this made it look like I was. Susan suggested a pair of dance trunks and that seemed to minimize things. But when I showed up for my first class dressed that way, the other women in the class also told me how sexy I looked. Sexy? Well, I couldn’t do any more to “slim down” my crotch. The dance trunks and top layer did keep things in place so there was no bouncing when I did jumping exercises. The workout did me in, and when we went back to Susan’s apartment, I fell asleep on her couch in my leotard and tights. I suddenly awoke to find her stroking the bottom of my balls, and - - you guessed it - - I lost control. She laughed but not too much. After many weeks in the class - - and another trip to the dance store for different outfits - - Susan told me that she could not go to the class that night because she had to fly to California to be near her mother, who had just suffered a stroke. She handed me a new outfit and told me to put it on - - royal blue tights and a black turtleneck leotard. When she was finished zipping me up, I felt her fiddling with the collar and then heard a click. I reached back and found there was a band of leather sewn into the collar of the leotard. One end had a small post which went through the other half of the collar, then through the tab on the leotard’s zipper, and locked with small padlock. “Why did you do that?” “To protect you from the women in the class. Haven’t you seen how they oogle you? I won’t be here when you get back but I will leave the key for you. And I’ll call when I get to California.” Well, Susan was right. When the women in the class saw that she was not there, they paid lots of attention to me. Several suggested that I could go home with them that night. Then one of them behind me saw the padlock! She checked it and announced to the others that I was locked into my leotard and tights. The class started and all I wanted to do was duck out the back door, but that was not possible. After the class, they again surrounded me and one of them announced to me, “I’ve always wanted to touch that nice crotch buried in there.” I tried to stop her but the others held my arms. She stroked my erotic spot, under the balls, and my cock immediately got hard and spit up. No way to hide that! They laughed and teased me, and I ran for the door. I would never be going back there! When Susan called, I told her she was right about the women in the class but I didn’t tell her what had happened. But I did admit to her that I got excited when she clicked that padlock and I realized my situation. She promised that she would do it more often, and not just for exercise class; I told her I was never going back to that bunch of harpies again. As it turned out, this was the last time I talked to her - - she was killed in an automobile accident while rushing her mother to the hospital. I didn’t have Susan any longer but I did have the locking leotard. But that wasn’t really secure; I could easily pull up the leg elastic of the leotard, pull down the waistband of the tights, and take a piss. Then I found the next level of security - - dance trunks, biketard, tights, leotard. But I wanted more, something which would hide the inevitable cum stains. Then I discovered latex briefs; not only did they hide the stains but once they are on and the body sweats a little, they have to be peeled off - - impossible when there are clothes on top of it. From there I graduated one more step, latex briefs with molded butt-plug. And then to the final step, a turtleneck unitard. Now there was no opening at all at the crotch. Absolute security! So what do I do? I put it all on and go shopping, leaving the key at home. I get a haircut, and the female barber always has to ask about the padlock she sees when she puts on the cloth to cover me. I have gone out of town, several hours’ drive away, and before I return I put the outfit on. With the key at home, of course. The butt plug keeps me from shitting (as well as being a constant reminder that it is in me) and the rubber pants keep in any liquid I may let out. Thus, self-bondage with only a locking collar. It’s fun; try it! .

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Ian slowly undressed his little slave girl and placed her on the bed at one side, while he got the items for tonight’s play from the wardrobe. He surveyed Diane with awe as she lay there on the top sheet; the duvet was needed elsewhere. Such an obedient little sex slave she was. He carefully took the duvet out from its cover and rolled it up neatly along side all the other items. Diane watched with glee as one by one the items were placed beside her body ready for her master’s use. Already she was tingling in her pussy at the thought of the enjoyment she was about to have. ...

(story continues from Away On Business 6: More Duvet Roll) 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. In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies. Authors Note: Just as a background whenever I was away on business Diane used to send me horny emails, often I would read these during meetings etc. As you can imagine it was quite distracting to say the least. I have made them into this series of stories called ‘Away on Business’. I bet you wished your girlfriend sent you horny emails like this when you were away on business! ...

Part 1: There has been a mistake here. “Look, there has clearly been a mistake here” “Madame, allow me to assure you that you are mistaken. Your order has been processed exactly as you placed it. I have it on the computer in front of me” “And I assure you that this is not what I ordered” “Madame, I have to tell you that you have received exactly what you ordered. 1 large size child’s doll. Snow White type. And that is all you will be charged for” ...

(story continues from In the Land of the Dolls) Part 2: Making the Bells Ring My arms were still tied behind my back, tight ropes fastened about my wrists, and another loop had been added above my elbows to force my straining arms into a column of knot-muscled agony. There was a tight collar about my throat, and from the three gleaming steel D rings ran long lines of rope that drove me forwards ever forwards to a fate the finer details of which I could only guess at. ...

(story continues from In the Land of the Dolls 2: Making the Bells Ring) Part 3: They Came in the Night They came for me in the night. I had been asleep on my straw covered palette when they came, but even had I been awake and ready for the the result would have been exactly the same. I was awoken by the warm caress of a soft leather collar about my throat, and as my mind darted upwards from the darkness of sleep I could feel other straps uncoiling about my naked body. ...

The Farm 1: Afternoon at the Farm I vaulted the wall and dropped into the cover of the high corn. All those long hours in the gym had kept me limber as well and given me a hard body any athlete would have envied. Keeping low I started to press my way through the corn, part of me enjoying the way it brushed roughly against my bare midriff and the long legs that trailed below the hem of my tight denim shorts. But I was on a mission and I could let nothing put me off my goal. ...

(story continues from The Farm 1: Afternoon at the Farm) The Farm 2: Morning at the Farm A alarm clock jangled and I was suddenly awake. For a fleeting moment I thought I was tied, but then I realised that I had sunk into the depths of the thick feather mattress. Pulling myself upright I looked around the room, It was vast and wore a slightly period look. I shook my head to clear it and I dimly recalled eating a meal with ‘Her Ladyship’ in a huge dining room attended by the two beautiful girls her Ladyship had first introduced hitched to her little ponycart. ...

(story continues from The Farm 2: Morning at the Farm) The Farm 3: Revolution on the Farm Her eyes were blue. That lovely bright blue that I just knew only came with red hair. And the fair sprinkling of freckles that were visible through the eye holes in her mask confirmed my suspicions. There was something in lurking behind those eyes that was both reassuring and terrifying. Trapped just as I was in a terrible, inescapable bondage I could read both fear and a fearful arousal in those eyes. She was encased exactly as I was, and with the same lack of hope of escape until someone came to her aid. ...