<?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>Sounds on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/sounds/</link><description>Recent content in Sounds 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/sounds/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Sounds Nasty</title><link>/stories/2008/12/11/sounds-nasty/</link><pubDate>Thu, 11 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2008/12/11/sounds-nasty/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;This story was originally an entry into the S(A)X Leather 2008 Bondage Stories Contest&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After I deplaned in LA from my short Phoenix flight, I was finally able to relax for a moment.  I have gone through airport security with the brass mail box lock several times without getting beeped.  Either their equipment is more sensitive than before or I was just unlucky this time.  The very tiny nonferrous lock secures the CB 2000 male chastity device.  You can get plastic seals with serial numbers, but Mistress Cynthia demands I wear the lock probably hoping I will get caught and strip searched by some queer.  Fortunately, the female TSA officer was content with the wand.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Kidnapped Mistaken Identity 2</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/kidnapped-mistaken-identity-2/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/kidnapped-mistaken-identity-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="kidnappedmistakenidentity.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kidnapped Mistaken Identity&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part Two&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;A clip- clop of heels was heard and the door opened. My stomach churned and the Matron entered; this time she was dressed from head to toe in a loose fitting, pale blue rubber medical theatre shirt and loose trousers topped with a head matching hair covering medical mop-cap. She pushed in her medical trolley containing an array of fearsome looking instruments made of glass, stainless steel and rubber; it clinked as she approached her rubber clothing rustling erotically as she moved.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>