<?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>Marsh on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/marsh/</link><description>Recent content in Marsh on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:47 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/marsh/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Pferman</title><link>/stories/2015/05/18/pferman/</link><pubDate>Mon, 18 May 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/05/18/pferman/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Smack! The wrench slipped, and even though Carl was pulling instead of pushing on it, his fingers still managed to be driven into a row a screw tails. The wrench flew from his grasp, and he heard it go clattering off down the inside of the fuel tank, heading towards the fuselage of the airliner he was working on.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Goddamnsonofabitch!” He muttered, clenching his teeth and gripping his hand. His two middle fingers had taken most of the impact, and it felt like they had just been stung by a few very upset hornets. Things just weren’t going his way today, starting with being assigned to work inside the wing of an old airliner and heading downhill from there.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 10</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-10/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-10/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="secretsofshackletongrange9.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 9&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 10: The Hunt&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Bethany’s return to consciousness coincided with a ripping sound that seemed to have its origins very close at hand. Opening her eyes seemed to make no difference to the overall blackness that pervaded her vision and, not yet fully awake, forgetting the circumstances under which she’d fallen asleep, she panicked momentarily before the memory of where she was suddenly kicked in. The warm body of Cathy pressed hard against her torso, abdomen and legs, and any small movement that she inadvertently made, told her that the stringent crotch rope was still in situ and, judging by the ever so slight but also very real first awakenings of arousal that this engendered, ready to work its magic once more.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 11: Strung Up, Bogged Down and Hung Out to Dry</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-11-strung-up-bogged-down-and-hung-out-to-dry/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-11-strung-up-bogged-down-and-hung-out-to-dry/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="secretsofshackletongrange10.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 10&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 11: Strung Up, Bogged Down and Hung Out to Dry&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Bethany reluctantly hobbled away from Cathy as swiftly as her leg-irons would allow, taking the narrow but well defined pathway deeper into the woods. Still shell-shocked from the events of the past twelve hours or so, and with the recent revelation that she was now being held against her will at Shackleton Grange only just beginning to sink in, she had been loath to leave her only ally, but knew that it made sense for them to split up and go their separate ways.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>