<?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>Ropes on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/ropes/</link><description>Recent content in Ropes 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/ropes/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Perspective</title><link>/stories/2019/06/09/perspective/</link><pubDate>Sun, 09 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/06/09/perspective/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;James watched.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He could not help himself. He wanted to look away but what he saw pulled at him.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Before him lay a woman. Spread eagled on a bed. Bound by ropes and chain. Blind folded and hardly moving. Wires running to her vagina and breast.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He was not ignorant. Just that you hear about these things and sort of dismiss them. Not in my backyard sort of thing.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;A retired Navy man with over twenty-two years in the service. He thought had seen it all.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Magic Trunk</title><link>/stories/2019/03/01/the-magic-trunk/</link><pubDate>Fri, 01 Mar 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/03/01/the-magic-trunk/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Brandy, just turned 21, with that she also inherited a big trust fund set up by her grand parents. Now after the death of her parents in a freak accident 5 yrs prior, she is all alone. But she does have her BFF Candy, to keep her company.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;So what to do first she asks herself ? A house in the country, but not just any home but a Log Cabin by a lake. So she picks up the phone and calls Candy, &amp;ldquo;Hi it’s me, wanna go with me to look at cabins?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2018/05/12/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Sat, 12 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/05/12/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom6.html"&gt;chapter six&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 7: Delta November Foxtrot&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I was awoken to sound of the loud cheering outside my window. I blinked as bright morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, causing me to squint and bury my head beneath the blankets. My copy of ‘A Comprehensive Guide to Slave Ownership’ rested propped-open on the nightstand and a half-eaten box of Hawaiian pizza sat on top of the covers next to me. It had been a long night of studying and pizza happened to be the brain-food that I required to stay focused. Hey- while my metabolism still worked, I might as well take advantage of eating what I liked.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Good Things Come to Those Who Wait</title><link>/stories/2018/04/03/good-things-come-to-those-who-wait/</link><pubDate>Tue, 03 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/03/good-things-come-to-those-who-wait/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part One&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Becoming a Bondage Model&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Hi Jamielee here and this is how i became a bondage model. My husband hated his job and one night in bed i jokingly suggested he could become a bondage photographer as he could combine his passion and get paid for it. Now when i suggested this i thought i would get the job as the model. How wrong i was. My man decided to get in aspiring models as he wanted to keep private and business apart. I was furious and thought what an asshole it was my idea in the first place and he gets in some tarts to be his models. Well for weeks i was &amp;ldquo;too tired&amp;rdquo; for any playtime when he got home and it was meant to be his punishment but all i did was punish myself and get myself all worked up. So a few months down the line and some very large pay checks and my persistent complaining about the fact that i loved bondage as much as i loved him but i wasn’t good enough to be his model, the tension had grown to boiling point. No intimacy tends to do that. My husband had been very busy the last week or so and his phone hadn’t stopped going. Friday morning i heard the door bang shut waking me up. My husband had left for work. I got up and slipped on my robe and went downstairs to make a cuppa and noticed a large box with a note on top.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Secrets of Shackleton Grange</title><link>/stories/2018/04/03/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange/</link><pubDate>Tue, 03 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/03/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="secretsofshackletongrange26.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;chapter 26&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 27: The Dawning of a New Era&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Saskia watched as the car advanced slowly up the driveway; the sound of gravel crackling beneath tyres disturbing the stillness of the evening. The outlook from the small office window gave an excellent view of the approach to Shackleton Grange’s main entrance, and she was able to observe the dark green Toyota coming to a halt beside the derelict fountain, before the doors on both sides opened simultaneously and the pair of occupants emerged into the failing light.  A minute or so ago, the buzz of the intercom had been followed by a disembodied female voice informing her that Megan and Alison had arrived for tonight’s class, and now Saskia was able to put faces to the names, as the duo slammed the car doors shut and began to walk slowly towards the house.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Opening Line</title><link>/stories/2017/07/03/the-opening-line/</link><pubDate>Mon, 03 Jul 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/07/03/the-opening-line/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;“Can I buy you another?” He asked me. It was the third line he spoke to me since sitting uninvited in the corner booth I was seated. Had it have been his opener I would’ve told him to take a hike, but it was not.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Stand up.” I gave as my reply. His head fell a bit as he slid from the thickly padded vinyl covered seat.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“I’m sorry I bothered you. At least you didn’t slap me.” Said the man who appeared to be about six-foot-two and a build that matched his height.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Remedial Therapy</title><link>/stories/2016/01/29/remedial-therapy/</link><pubDate>Fri, 29 Jan 2016 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2016/01/29/remedial-therapy/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Geraldine was a social worker, aged forty one. A tall solidly built woman, fit active and capable. With a square, usually pleasant face framed by straight brown hair. She was a purposeful, no-nonsense sort of person. Her work took her out most of the day, regularly seeing people which her employer, a government health authority, felt needed frequent visits, consolation and counseling where required. Her casebook was quite extensive but she managed it successfully and was considered very good at her job. And she enjoyed it.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Robert's Dream</title><link>/stories/2015/08/21/roberts-dream/</link><pubDate>Fri, 21 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/08/21/roberts-dream/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Robert closed his door with a soft sigh.  It had been a long day to end an even longer week.  Work had been worse than usual, and his attempt to relax at a neighborhood bar hadn&amp;rsquo;t helped a bit.  Now, though, he was home, where nobody would bother him.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Stripping off his clothes, he treated himself to a long, hot shower.  After drying off, he collapsed onto his bed.  Tiredly, almost lazily, he reached down and slowly began stroking himself.  This was something he only did on Friday night, so it didn&amp;rsquo;t take long for him to become hard.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Original Sins</title><link>/stories/2015/01/09/original-sins/</link><pubDate>Fri, 09 Jan 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/01/09/original-sins/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Chapter 1: Temptation
Pre-Dawn&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;August 1944&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Dehlia looked back over her shoulder. Out on the moors, the unhooded lights of the approaching car were over a mile away. It wasn’t even dawn yet. It was blatantly illegal to show lights like that. Idiots.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She stopped the bicycle. A solitary lost plane would be enough, just one bomb. Didn’t they realise? She shivered, sweat cold on her skin. Could she hear the distant drone of engines, the approaching whistles of death?&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Stuffed</title><link>/stories/2014/10/30/stuffed/</link><pubDate>Thu, 30 Oct 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/10/30/stuffed/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Jenna’s hands gripped the head board as Ben worked his hips, kissing and biting her neck and shoulder. Her frustration was growing with each thrust, as Ben moved close to his own release Jenna let go of the bars and let out a big sigh stopping him cold.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“What’s wrong?” Ben said.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Jenna put her hands on Ben’s shoulders, pushed him off and got up.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“I don’t know what the big deal is,” Jenna said, “at least you could tie my hands to the bed.”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>It Must Be Genetic</title><link>/stories/2014/09/27/it-must-be-genetic/</link><pubDate>Sat, 27 Sep 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/09/27/it-must-be-genetic/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Lucy Harris sat at the kitchen table of her new house with a cup of coffee and the papers finalizing her divorce. Her daughter celebrated her high school graduation in their old house and her eighteenth birthday in their new house in the same week, but Lucy felt it important to return to their home town where Lana could be with her relatives, and she was very happy Lana had re-established her close relationship with her best childhood friend Patty. Even though Lana, Patty, and Lana’s cousins Doug and Victor were all adults, Mrs. Harris felt her daughter missed the opportunity to form stable relationships in childhood and doing so now would be good for her. Right now the four were down stairs in the basement family room.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Shipwrecked</title><link>/stories/2014/03/28/shipwrecked/</link><pubDate>Fri, 28 Mar 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/03/28/shipwrecked/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;It all started like a fairytale for me, I was promised in marriage to the prince of a neighboring country at an early age, and at least I can say that the gentleman was beyond handsome. I had no choice in the matter in any event, and was required to remain pure before the ceremony while so many of my royal friends were out fornicating like rabbits in heat. I used most of my time to become as educated as a future queen should be, but in some worldly things there is no substitute for experience. I used my private time to explore my body in ways that satisfied my curiosities, and I found all manor of inanimate objects, (some quite large), that could be put to use for my relief. I still considered myself a virgin despite evidence to the contrary, and intended to wear white at the ceremony as I had not as of yet entertained a human lover, and I only hoped my prince could measure up with my expectations.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Safer Option</title><link>/stories/2014/01/14/the-safer-option/</link><pubDate>Tue, 14 Jan 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/01/14/the-safer-option/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I had put my profile on the bondage website and received over 30 replies in the first week, I responded to them all before selecting one from a man who lived 20 miles away but wanted to travel to my house to meet me.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I am a 33 year old male, 6ft slim, reasonable fit as I had run a few marathons over the last few years, with brown hair, whilst not the most handsome, I had had no trouble with women over the years.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Return Home</title><link>/stories/2013/12/28/the-return-home/</link><pubDate>Sat, 28 Dec 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/12/28/the-return-home/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;For Marie to suggest that she wanted to tie him was unusual, normally, Alan had to ask for it and very rarely got what he wanted. Perhaps his wife of nearly 20 years was finally getting ‘kinky’.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Alan worked abroad a great deal, installing computer systems; some major installations could take him abroad for 6 months. He was home now and didn’t have any new jobs on the horizon, not a problem as he was so well paid the house, cars and boat were all paid for, and there was plenty of money in investments and savings, so he had suggested early retirement to Marie.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Return Home</title><link>/stories/2013/12/28/the-return-home/</link><pubDate>Sat, 28 Dec 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/12/28/the-return-home/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;For Marie to suggest that she wanted to tie him was unusual, normally, Alan had to ask for it and very rarely got what he wanted. Perhaps his wife of nearly 20 years was finally getting ‘kinky’.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Alan worked abroad a great deal, installing computer systems; some major installations could take him abroad for 6 months. He was home now and didn’t have any new jobs on the horizon, not a problem as he was so well paid the house, cars and boat were all paid for, and there was plenty of money in investments and savings, so he had suggested early retirement to Marie.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>One Prank Deserves Another</title><link>/stories/2013/11/26/one-prank-deserves-another/</link><pubDate>Tue, 26 Nov 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/11/26/one-prank-deserves-another/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;For a number of years, near the city where I live, there was a ten-day celebration around mid-summer that celebrated the settlement of the American West.  It involved Native Americans, cowboys, gunslingers, a circled wagon train, craftsmen making everything from saddles to brooms, stagecoach rides, panning for gold, and frontier cuisine at the food stands. 
 
There was a theatrical presentation each night depicting the history of the West in song and dance.  Local singers and dancers rehearsed for weeks in preparation.  And there was even a professional dance group from a neighboring city who would come and participate in the presentation each year. 
 
Patrons would come from almost every state in the nation, and local schools totally enjoyed the historical nature of the event&amp;ndash;even if it was in the middle of summer and school was not in session.  I admit, I am a history buff, so I volunteered my time each year (along with dozens of other local people) to make it all happen.  Over the years, I worked in food booths, running errands, constructing the frontier street, clean up efforts, taking a part in the production to replace a cast member who had a last minute emergency, and just working wherever I was needed&amp;ndash;enjoying every minute of the time spent there.
 
One year, I was given the assignment of cleaning the dressing rooms for the theatrical performers each night.  There was one room for the male cast, one for the female cast, and two rooms for the male and female members of the professional dance group.  (Over the years, I had gotten to know most of the professional dancers quite well, since many of them returned each year.  They were a fun-loving group, and took delight in playing small pranks on the local cast members and each other.  It made for some exciting and frustrating situations during rehearsals.)  After the performance one night, I waited patiently for the participants to change out of their costumes, then began to clean the dressing rooms.  I finished the men&amp;rsquo;s dressing room, but as usual, there were some stragglers in the women&amp;rsquo;s dressing room.  I noticed the light was off in the men&amp;rsquo;s dressing room for the professional dancers, and decided to clean that room next.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Tales From The Psych Ward 8: The Final Chapter</title><link>/stories/2013/09/30/tales-from-the-psych-ward-8-the-final-chapter/</link><pubDate>Mon, 30 Sep 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/09/30/tales-from-the-psych-ward-8-the-final-chapter/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="talesfrompsychward7.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tales From The Psych Ward 7: Again a Witness&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 8: The Final Chapter&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The headlines about the arrest of Dr. Susan Barrington as the Roadside Rapist soon faded. It wasn&amp;rsquo;t that it didn&amp;rsquo;t make interesting news, but there were too many very important people involved who didn&amp;rsquo;t want it known that she had been targeting the Masters and Mistresses of The Club - or that they were members there. Besides that, it was immediately apparent to almost everyone that Dr. Barrington had fallen off the deep end and was nuttier than Mr. Peanut.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Head Space</title><link>/stories/2013/09/26/head-space/</link><pubDate>Thu, 26 Sep 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/09/26/head-space/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Exploring the world of kink through the written word, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://kinkywriter.com/"&gt;KinkyWriter.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; features erotic stories about bondage, domination, chastity, and more. If you enjoyed this story, please consider visiting the author&amp;rsquo;s website at &lt;a href="http://www.kinkywriter.com/"&gt;www.kinkywriter.com&lt;/a&gt; for new kinky adventures every month! ](&lt;a href="https://forum.grometsplaza.net/index.php?topic=1110.0"&gt;https://forum.grometsplaza.net/index.php?topic=1110.0&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Roped in the Shed</title><link>/stories/2013/06/30/roped-in-the-shed/</link><pubDate>Sun, 30 Jun 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/06/30/roped-in-the-shed/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I have my shed out back cleared out.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I have eye bolts threaded into the floor plates around the diameter.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;To a couple about three feet from the back wall, I attached 3 inch O rings. I did the same to the ones at six inch distance along the back wall. I tied a rope to the ones and the door wall, and tied that tight. I put the rope through another O ring.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Seduction</title><link>/stories/2013/06/26/the-seduction/</link><pubDate>Wed, 26 Jun 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/06/26/the-seduction/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="seduction.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Seduction&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;But why not?!&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Because I said so.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Andi pouted.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;You sound like Dad.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;And you sound like a whining child.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She reached out and took his hand.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Sorry, Uncle Phil, but that may have worked when I was six, not twenty-six.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Phil sighed.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Several reasons. For starters I wouldn&amp;rsquo;t be comfortable doing it. I never married, never had kids, don&amp;rsquo;t have all that baggage, but you&amp;rsquo;re still my niece. It would be too overtly sexual.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Ranch</title><link>/stories/2013/05/04/the-ranch/</link><pubDate>Sat, 04 May 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/05/04/the-ranch/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;As told by his slave, slave c&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;i knew it was going to be an interesting weekend when Master Jon told me to stand at attention and wrote something on my left breast, and then took a picture. He had me dress in lingerie, and then did something which seldom happens- he made me put on my collar. That just doesn&amp;rsquo;t happen in our city. He had me put a short dress on over the lingerie, put on my wrist and ankle restraints, and told me that i would be &amp;ldquo;on display&amp;rdquo;, and we drove for about 45 minutes to a ranch.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>At the Academy 8: The Cost of Carelessness</title><link>/stories/2013/03/20/at-the-academy-8-the-cost-of-carelessness/</link><pubDate>Wed, 20 Mar 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/03/20/at-the-academy-8-the-cost-of-carelessness/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;continues from &lt;a href="at_the_academy7.html"&gt;part 7&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;8: The Cost of Carelessness&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Oh, good morning Roger.&amp;rdquo; Amy was rinsing out her coffee cup as Roger walked in to the kitchen, still in his pajamas. She was fully dressed and the dishes in the sink made it clear that both she and Ken had already been up, eaten, and cleaned up. &amp;ldquo;I was just about to leave you and Andrea a note. Now that the 24 hours is up, Ken and I figured we&amp;rsquo;d stick around in the suite for a little while just pretend like were having a normal day away from the Academy. We won’t have the chance to do much of that pretty soon.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Sandra: The Indentured Prostitute</title><link>/stories/2012/12/20/sandra-the-indentured-prostitute/</link><pubDate>Thu, 20 Dec 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/12/20/sandra-the-indentured-prostitute/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continues from &lt;a href="../storiesek/howsandrabecameindentured.html"&gt;How Sandra became Indentured&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Everyone at the office noticed that Sandra was much nicer to her grumpier old boss. &amp;ldquo;A love hate relationship&amp;rdquo; they all said. Sandra noticed herself daydreaming from time to time about taking another business trip, and she alternated between feeling disgust and lust for thinking about sex with strangers, especially for money.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Finally the call came from her boss: &amp;ldquo;Sandra&amp;rdquo;, he said &amp;ldquo;we are going to New York. I want you completely shaved. Do you understand?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>At the Shore</title><link>/stories/2012/06/11/at-the-shore/</link><pubDate>Mon, 11 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/06/11/at-the-shore/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;[This was originally written for a friend. I understand that some readers donʼt enjoy the first/second person present tense style of writing presented here. I tried changing it to standard first person but decided I like this one better. If you are someone who vehemently dislikes this style, send me an email and Iʼll forward you the other version.]&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This is a great look for you! With your heels pressed into your ass, the flesh of your calves and thighs bunches up in a most appealing manner. Your big brown eyes look up at me beseechingly. I stand and go downstairs to the kitchen to refill my coffee cup. You groan into your sopping gag.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Max &amp; Matt</title><link>/stories/2012/02/20/max-matt/</link><pubDate>Mon, 20 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/02/20/max-matt/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Karla called from downstairs at 4:00 to announce the arrival of my guest. I told her to
send him up and quickly went down my mental checklist. Everything was ready, so I ran
a comb through my hair one more time, swallowed my nervousness, and moved myself
into Dom mode. I took a few deep breaths, and the knock came. I opened up and let
him in. My goodness, I thought. Heʼs a big one. About my height but at least a
hundred pounds heavier. And quite a bit younger.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Tomaso and the Queen</title><link>/stories/2011/09/05/tomaso-and-the-queen/</link><pubDate>Mon, 05 Sep 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2011/09/05/tomaso-and-the-queen/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Tomaso was a young carpenter who worked in the village. Tomasoʼs mother drank. His
father drank and gambled. The debts were many and continued to grow. At last the
Queen sent guards to seize the familyʼs property. Tomasoʼs father suggested that the
Queen could make better use of a good carpenter than a dilapidated hovel.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After some
discussion, it was agreed that the Queen would pay the familyʼs debts and in exchange
Tomaso would be hers. Tomaso was taken to the castle where he was locked in a cell.
During the day he was well guarded as he worked in the carpentry shop. At night he
was returned to his cell.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Captured Cougar</title><link>/stories/2011/03/19/captured-cougar/</link><pubDate>Sat, 19 Mar 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2011/03/19/captured-cougar/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Shawn knew her schedule well. He knew she was a successful sales representative and her home was her office. Almost like clockwork, if the sun was out on a weekday morning and she had no appointments, she swapped her expensive tailored business suits for a string bikini and was poolside tanning her fantastically formed body. Hid away from the public view by the private walled-in yard, her swimsuit was often removed to give her entire body a nice even tan.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Perfect Trap</title><link>/stories/2010/06/25/the-perfect-trap/</link><pubDate>Fri, 25 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2010/06/25/the-perfect-trap/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Parts of this story are true, but as written, this is a work of fiction. Enjoy!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Hi, I&amp;rsquo;m Carol. I&amp;rsquo;ve had a thing for helpless sex for as long as I can remember. I&amp;rsquo;ve never asked to be tied up and my previous boyfriends never made the first move in that area. As a result, my only experience is with selfbondage. The situation I describe here happened a year ago. I&amp;rsquo;ve written about the experience in my journals, but this is the first time I&amp;rsquo;ve shared my story.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Screwed</title><link>/stories/2006/05/15/screwed/</link><pubDate>Mon, 15 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2006/05/15/screwed/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Or - Sometimes You Can Get Too Much Of A Good Thing&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Darren
was the best-looking hunk in the same year as me at college. Standing six foot two with a great body and blond wavy hair -
he also captained the college football team - what more could a girl ask for?
One day I was chatting to him in a break between lectures and admitted
that I knew absolutely nothing about football.
He said the team was playing at home on Saturday so why didn’t I come
and find out what it was all about?&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Hey, Hey, Hey</title><link>/stories/2004/02/01/hey-hey-hey/</link><pubDate>Sun, 01 Feb 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2004/02/01/hey-hey-hey/</guid><description>&lt;hr&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here&amp;rsquo;s another verse, same as the first&amp;hellip;&lt;/em&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Just another story, not quite so gory&amp;hellip;&lt;/em&gt;
&lt;em&gt;A tiny little tale that won&amp;rsquo;t leave you pale&amp;hellip;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;(Dan Dofogh, 1998)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hey hey ho ho, Snicka-snicka-snick. Look ma! I&amp;rsquo;m upside-down!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Karen flicked her head from the left side to the right side, but some
strands of hair still drifted down across her nose. It tickled. Ironic
that such a minor tickle required some major effort to relieve it.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Ever Increasing Bondage</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The notion of being tied up had always held a strange fascination for Lauren, although until now her curiosity had lain dormant within her. Now, however, when the hint of an opportunity to actually participate arose, something stirred within her &amp;amp; she found herself desperately hoping that she was going to be able to experience firsthand something that had so far been merely a flight into fantasy.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The nineteen year old slim, attractive brunette was staying the weekend at the home of two of her old school friends, Jade &amp;amp; Jasmine. Their parents were away for a few days, so the identical twins had invited Lauren to stay over until Monday at their house in the country. Not so much a house really, as a small mansion, with old creaking stairs, rambling corridors, cellars, an attic, &amp;amp; more rooms than Lauren had ever bothered to count. The house was set in several acres of its own grounds &amp;amp; boasted an orchard &amp;amp; a walled garden. Reached only by a long driveway from the road, the idyllic setting was peaceful, isolated &amp;amp; secluded.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Ever Increasing Bondage 2</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-2/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="everincreasingbondage.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ever Increasing Bondage&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Lauren stopped and looked up at the old house with some trepidation. It was more than six months since she’d last been here, but the memories of what had occurred over those two days were etched indelibly into her mind, and would forever remain so. The house and surrounding grounds were almost exactly as Lauren remembered them, except that now the first green buds and shoots of spring had been replaced with the russet brown, red and yellow hues of autumn. The setting was peaceful and remote; idyllic in fact. But for the twenty year old female making her way up the long driveway, the sight of this rambling building, with its uneven tiles, crooked chimneys and ivy-clad brickwork, held mixed emotions. For it was here that her friends – the twins Jasmine and Jade – had subjected her to an ordeal that, she had assumed at the time, was to read as the final chapter to her short life on earth.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Ever Increasing Bondage 3</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-3/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-3/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="everincreasingbondage2.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ever Increasing Bondage 2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Lauren peered out through the tiny peep holes of the leather hood and sighed contentedly. The dim light from the single dusty bulb that hung from the ceiling cast shadows around the cellar, revealing only vague images and blurred outlines in the junk filled space beyond. Nothing moved and there was no sound, save for Lauren’s low breathing, which of necessity had to be through her nose alone. It must have been an hour or so since the twins had taken their leave and returned to the upstairs world, leaving Lauren to while away her time in a state of immobilised solitude.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Ever Increasing Bondage 4</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-4/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-4/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="everincreasingbondage3.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ever Increasing Bondage 3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 4&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;A shiver surged up Lauren’s spine. But in stark contrast to the warm jolts of pleasure that had been coursing through her not much more than an hour ago, this shudder brought with it an icy chill and was born out of gut-wrenching fear. And if the nervous vibes given off by Jade and Jasmine were anything to go by, as they squirmed against their bonds in the tightly compacted space in which all three were trapped, it seemed that they too were experiencing the same levels of dread as their co-captive.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Ever Increasing Bondage 5</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-5/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-5/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="everincreasingbondage4.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ever Increasing Bondage 4&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The party of three men and their female companion walked – casually, it seemed – over the low sand hills towards the spot where Lauren’s and the twins’ heads poked out of the ever diminishing strip of beach. When they reached a point around ten feet away from the three stricken young women, the men stopped, leaving Amber to approach on her own. Lauren watched as the black boots of the dominatrix approached and halted right by her head; so close, in fact, that the scent of the leather mingled with the salty air. As she moved, the soft creaking of Amber’s skin-tight latex cat-suit was audible over the crashing waves that were only a few feet away now&amp;hellip; and getting nearer by the second. Amber looked down at her three helpless captives, a smile on her face as she surveyed the mayhem that – it was now obvious – had all been part of her devious plan.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Ever Increasing Bondage 6</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-6/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-6/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="everincreasingbondage5.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ever Increasing Bondage 5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 6&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Lauren sighed contentedly and curled up under the duvet. The warm bedding she’d been snuggled up in for the past few hours was in stark contrast to her experience of the night before, and she was grateful for the sense of security and wellbeing that she could now savour.  It was still dark outside, although the first signs that daybreak was imminent could be seen peeping through the gaps between the curtains. Her vision, however, as she gazed out into the twilight of the bedroom, was not as sharp as it would have been under normal circumstances.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Ever Increasing Bondage 7</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-7/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/ever-increasing-bondage-7/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="everincreasingbondage6.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ever Increasing Bondage 6&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 7&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It seemed as if the world and everything in it had suddenly disappeared. Was this what it felt like to die? There had been a split second when the squeal of brakes had coincided with a swift slow down in the vehicle’s momentum&amp;hellip; then nothing.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Well, perhaps not quite nothing.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The rain seemed to still be falling onto her face and spandex covered body and legs. And there was a soft whimpering sound from close by. There was no pain, but as she tentatively stretched her limbs, Lauren found that she was still unable to move. She was most definitely still in a state of very strict restraint, she concluded. So that meant that either she had died and gone to some sort of heaven for bondage addicts&amp;hellip; or else she had somehow survived what seemed like an almost inevitable collision. Cautiously, she opened her eyes.  All that met her gaze was a sea of blackness.  For a second or two, she could make out nothing in what seemed like an endless dark void. But then she sensed this black whatever-it-was moving slightly.  As her eyes focused, it became apparent that the blackness wasn’t quite so all-encompassing as it had first appeared, but seemed to have a slight shine or shimmer to it; as if some source of light, however faint,  was bouncing off it. And then there was the smell; that familiar aroma of latex. Lauren cast her eyes upwards slightly, just as a low moan of anguish reached her ears from somewhere close at hand.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Tales From The Psych Ward 7: Again a Witness</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/tales-from-the-psych-ward-7-again-a-witness/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/tales-from-the-psych-ward-7-again-a-witness/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="talesfrompsychward6.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tales From The Psych Ward 6: We Are Not Alone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 7: Again a Witness&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Detective Antonio Mendes sat at his desk reorganizing his notes on the difficult, high-publicity case, that the papers called &amp;ldquo;The Roadside Rapist.&amp;rdquo; He was trying to word things properly before he put his report into the computerized records system. When the new system first went into place he had learned the hard way that what you wrote in a notebook in your pocket and what you wrote in a report form on-line were not the same thing. None of the higher-ups ever read your personal notebook.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Secrets of Shackleton Grange</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 1: Cathy the Cat Burglar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Cathy scaled the perimeter wall and momentarily sat atop the high brick structure. Her eyes swiftly scanned the landscape in front of her; no trace of guard dogs roaming the overgrown lawns, no sign of security personnel or movement sensitive lighting. In fact, aside from the wall and the securely locked wrought iron gates, there was very little sign of there being any preventative measures having been put in place to deter trespassers from getting into the grounds. Her gaze drifted further afield, towards the mansion house about one hundred yards in front of her. The rambling old building, with its Tudor architecture, had seen better days, but was still quite impressive, even when viewed in twilight. How many rooms were there? There must be at least a hundred, Cathy guessed, taking into account the towers that rose at each corner above the main body of the building.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 25: Dolores Alone</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-25-dolores-alone/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-secrets-of-shackleton-grange-25-dolores-alone/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="secretsofshackletongrange24.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 24: A Shift in the Balance of Power&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 25: Dolores Alone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Shackleton Grange basked in the shimmering heat of a languid spring afternoon; those ancient towers and spires standing proud against the gently rolling Suffolk landscape, as they had for centuries. And yet, today something was different.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In the woods, a parliament of rooks held their daily conclave; their cawing that little bit more frenzied than normal, as they discussed the news filtering from the crumbling brickwork that a monarch had been dethroned, and debated the uncertainty of the interregnum.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Seduction</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-seduction/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-seduction/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;I don&amp;rsquo;t know.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Yasmine, I need the money.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;But porn?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;I like to think of it as portraiture.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Uh huh.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;With ropes.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Oh, Christ.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;He&amp;rsquo;s very nice.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Meaning?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Meaning he&amp;rsquo;s very nice. Kind of fatherly.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Kind of like an old pervert.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;No! He&amp;rsquo;s not.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Uh huh. So when are you going to do this.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;In about 30 minutes.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Today?!&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Well, yeah.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Where?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;At his place.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;I&amp;rsquo;m coming with you.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Oh?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>