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Week One - Day 1 - Monday Chapter 1: The Binding Dawn The summer sun draped the manor grounds in a thick golden haze, its warmth seeping through the stable’s weathered slats. Hay dust hung in the air, glinting like tiny embers in the slanted light, settling softly on the packed dirt floor. Brynlee, in her mid-30s, with sharp yet warm green eyes and raven hair tied back in a loose braid, leaned against a stall door, arms crossed over her leather vest. She’d been at it since dawn—forking out soiled straw, brushing down the horses until their coats gleamed, her jeans now smudged with stable grit. The work grounded her, a steady pulse beneath her restless energy, but her gaze kept flicking to the stable entrance. She was waiting—for her. ...

Part 19. An Unworthy Turn Emma was returning to the suite after dinner, some of the other guests greeted her along the way. She was still sore and tired from her earlier activities. Her evening was just beginning so she needed to suck it up. She got what she asked for even with the twists involved. Emma could hear a bit of yelling as there must be some commotion nearby in her mind. A few people came around the corner and hurriedly passed her. Emma soon reached the corner and turned down the corridor towards the suite. Further down the corridor and heading in her direction was a man dragging what looked like a woman by her hair. ...

Part 6. Dam(sel) Consequences Janice was still setting up her display with what Emma assumed were employees or volunteers at the least. She had basically brought her own store and set it up off to the side of the area they would be using for demonstration. The demonstration area was a large stage with a large number of tables with various objects, unique furniture, and some interesting looking devices. Seeing them left Emma curious about how many of these things she would experience today. Out front of the main demonstration area was a couple hundred seats spread out front for guests to watch from. Some of those seats were already filled with more people coming. Though Emma knew it was a public event, people could watch live from other areas or later at their convenience. ...

A television played in the background, illuminating the almost spartan living room with flickering splashes of color against the shadows. Some generic, by the numbers film was showing, the sound turned down to almost nothing, but she wasn’t really paying any attention to that. No, what Morgan Nahas was really paying attention to was the forms of her lovers curled up with her on the couch who were definitely far more interesting than anything she had ever seen on TV. It was late and she was dressed simply in little more than a pair of loose shorts and a tank top that hung rather unflatteringly from her lanky frame, a comfortable contrast to the more formal clothes she habitually wore to the office, bare feet curled into the carpet and very much glad to be free the of high heels she generally preferred. While she very much loved the way heels made her already long legs look, there were days in which it almost wasn’t worth it. Almost. In sharp contrast even to her almost casual appearance Alexis was completely naked, her bronzed skin and extensive tattoos on full display while a monoglove of polished black leather trapped her arms snugly behind her back and a large red ball gag filled her mouth, making her already full lips stand out even more as she lay casually on the couch, head perched in her mistress’s lap. It was a thrilling vision but even that paled in comparison to Zoe who, though technically wearing more, somehow cut an even more tantalizing figure. The artist half sat, half knelt on the cushions, lifting herself up just enough to rest her head on Morgan’s shoulder. She was not gagged, which was a pity because the brunette wore a gag better than almost anyone else she had ever met, but coils of rope circled her body, weaving around her torso and between her legs in an intricate web of knots while a snug harness of those same ropes embraced her full, firm breasts and pinned her arms behind her back in an inescapable box tie. Still, she was not naked. Rather, a bra of intricately woven black lace struggled mightily to contain her ample assets while a matching thong hugging her hips left virtually nothing to the imagination. Not that Morgan was complaining, not in the slightest. ...

Part 4. Pet Play and Cum Receptacles Emma continued holding Unworthy’s leash as they navigated through the large hall for the first “meet and greet” of the cruise. As they headed towards the N & M ranch and pet play booth, they began picking up a small crowd following them. Many were looking to talk to Emma and the elusive Miss Keys as well as their interest in Unworthy, also known to most as Miss Victoria, the brothel owner and part owner of the Subspace cruise ship. ...

Part 3. Sharks and Fire “I have never really been an exhibitionist. It feels a little weird to be this exposed heading to a group of people.” Emma spoke with a slight bit of concern. Ophelia walked next to her, bursting out laughing. As she calmed down she spoke, “You realize my Unicorn that you wore much less than you currently are to our performance. Sure the latex is see-through to a degree but still opaque. But you have a dress on this time. Earlier you just had a corset, chastity belt, stockings, and boots. Oh and a sexy fucking tail. Too bad you couldn’t wear it with this. But people could still see more flesh clearly earlier and a whole lot more when my Unicorn was on display. Maybe you feel more exposed as your head is uncovered.” ...

It would be a challenge; I knew that from the beginning. In every conversation leading up to our start her intentions had been clear. It’s not even that she had to voice them, it was easy to read her demeanor. If I was willing to do this it wasn’t going to be easy. I’m not a big fan of being handed things. I’m reluctant to accept gifts or praise and platitudes sometimes make me uneasy. ...

Chapter 1 - Be Careful What you Wish for… “I want the maids in the house,” I remember telling my husband. Sean had again been flirting with them, and even though he knew I would throw a fit, he still asked if we should get rid of them. “They keep this giant mansion clean, because I know I don’t want to do it.” He agreed, apologized for groping the android maid, and then made me sing three times in bed that night as an “I’m sorry, Sierra.” I was still kind of mad, but not really. ...

Chapter 2 - News of the hour My eyes snap open as programmed at 7:00 A.M. to see the door to my pod opening. Directly in front of me, my fellow maid, Angela, is sliding on her grey latex maid uniform, with red fringe and highlights. While my mind is rebooting, the cleaning and lubrication probes retract before folding into the servicing pod, and I smoothly step from the pod, with perfect balance. I always move gracefully when the house system is controlling my movements through my collar despite my teetering footwear. ...

Chapter 3 - What a ride Val is an amazing listener. She is engaged and patient as I retell the events of the last four months. She laughs when I explain how bossy Espa was the first time she ran the owner program I installed, and is concerned when I explain how Espa slept with my husband. She then asks me a question that hadn’t even occurred to me. “I can’t view your programming partition through your diagnostic port, but do you know if your maid has been reprogramming you as well as upgrading you?” ...

Chapter 4 - …It Might Come True Sierra activated at 7:00 A.M. in accordance with her programmed schedule, however she felt as if something was different as compared to all the previous mornings. As the door to her pod opened and the service probes retracted back into their stand-by positions, she felt as if she had forgotten something important. It was like waking from a dream that fades just before you can grasp it. She remembered ‘Mistress Sierra’ riding her, the brunette from months before and her shocking news, the video of Kim, and the incident with the pool crew—most shocking of all, she recalled being free to think as she wished. Yet at the same time, it was all too vague to be real. ...

Continues from part two Practice Chloe went into her apartment and locked the door. She rolled the suitcase over to her dining room table and sat down in the chair, feeling quite tired, but also excited about practicing. She opened the suitcase and began rummaging through the bondage equipment she found in there. She pulled out the instruction sheets and started reading. She skipped the introduction and went straight to the main body, explaining how things worked but got bored quickly. She started digging around in the suitcase and pulled out a short chain with two clips on either end, wondering what they were for. She scanned the sheets until she found the section with a picture of them and realized they were nipple clamps. Chloe had never worn them before, though she had seen them in pictures and videos. She imagined they must hurt, but was sure she would need to practice wearing them. ...

It started, as so many of these things do, with a night where we had drunk far too much Prosecco and been giggling and joking about, as girls do. Hilary had just won a major event, so we had bedded down the horses and decided to celebrate. Then, the conversation turned to our attributes, specifically we were goading Sarah saying she was a natural sub and that she could never switch. ...

Continues from chapter five_ ### Chapter Six: Triumph and Tragedy #### Part One: Family Obligations ##### June 1983 Wednesday night was the slowest day of the week, so that was the day that mother and daughter usually met. Each time, they met at a different diner or restaurant, in a different town or city. Erica had promised Eve that she would always live nearby, and had rented an apartment in Darien near where she worked. ...

Sara’s Story Andi insisted I tell my side of the story she just posted. It was my first time really tied up and Andi wanted me to let you know how it felt. You can read her bit in ‘#17a Andreabound ties up Sara and then Herself’. This is my first go at writing a story so please be gentle with me. At least this program has a spellchecker so I won’t get into trouble this time. ...

Part One This is one part of a scene Sara and I participated in together. I tied her up and then tied myself up. You can read Sara’s side of the scene in #17b Andreabound ties me up. Sara was long overdue for a turn under the ropes. I had introduced her in a most gentle manner to a simple hogtie last time. This time I thought I would take her a little further. It was important, I felt, that she understood a little of what it was she did to me. How else was she to understand the potential damage she could do? ...

Halloween, Fantasy, Oral, Anal, Orgy, Male-Female, Female-Female, Male-Male, Ancient Myths = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Philip’s flat mates attend a very interesting Halloween Party Philip Westmont has samhainophobia, the fear of Halloween. So he spends Halloween in his bed, cowering in fear while his flat mates go out to a very interesting Halloween Party. They come back the next morning to tell him all about their adventures. ...

story continued from part three Part 4: Aftermath I slammed the door of my battered old Land Rover and looked up at the rambling farmhouse. I had been here many times before, but the sheer size of the place still held me in awe. Even with the horsebox attached my rig took up practically no space on the gravel apron. As I stood in awe the front door opened and a curvy figure with long thick hair worn in a high pony tail came bounding towards me. Her name was Emma, and she ran this incredible place. When they said farmers had to diversify, I am sure they had not thought of anything quite like the place Emma had turned her old family farm into. But a success, oh yes, it was a success. ...

My life partner, Angie, pointed it out to me; I would have missed it, because it was in part of the paper I do not read. “What do you reckon to this?” she said as she handed the paper to me and tapped the page in the area she thought might be of interest. “You are always saying you a looking for a challenge.” I focused on the page I had been handed and quickly found the item Angie was bringing to my attention. The small ad read, ‘John Franklin challenges any aspiring escapologists to escape from the ‘Death Cage’ in under five minutes. Successful challengers will receive £1000.’ And a contact phone number. Naturally, I was intrigued, so I rang the number and left a message. That evening I received an email in response, which was odd as I had only left my name, phone number and the fact that I was interested in the ‘Death Cage’ challenge. I opened the attached documentation and discovered the nature of the challenge and the safety procedures that were being put in place. The final paragraph seemed a bit odd. It simply stated, ‘If you succeed you get £1000; if you fail you get to experience magic and what your companion has experienced throughout the challenge.’ I showed the pdf to Angie to ask what she reckoned. Her assessment was, “Handcuffs behind your back, 20 seconds, no 30 seconds, because you’ll need to release both hands; neck shackle, another twenty seconds; two sets of leg shackles, 40 seconds and the cage’s padlock another thirty seconds. I make that 2 minutes. Add that on again for being underwater makes 4 minutes; so five minutes sounds do-able. Admittedly, you can only hold your breath for 3 minutes, but they’ll be providing an air-hose, so that shouldn’t be a big deal. I reckon, if you can handle the pressure of doing this for a live audience and this John Franklin character, you should go for it.” Between us we agreed that it was worth taking this challenge to the next stage, which was emailing for further details and contracts. The next evening these details arrived, but I had spent most of the day in the tank in the summer house in the garden practicing getting out of handcuffs behind my back underwater. I had even improvised an arrangement so that it would be more like the planned arrangement for the ‘Death Cage’ The details confirmed the details of the escape and the safety arrangements and the contractual obligations on both me and the John Franklin’s people. Their obligations seemed to be to provide all the equipment required at the appointed time and place, to have all the safety arrangements in place and to provide the payment if I succeed or get me out if I fail. My obligations seemed to be to turn up at the appointed place and time (at their expense), try my best to succeed at the challenge and to bring a companion with me to see fair play. There were two things that gave me slight concern; the first was they said they would be offering more challenge on the day, for more reward; and the second was they insisted I name my companion and that they sign the contract with me. The contract made clear that the extra part to the challenge was entirely optional, I guessed this would allow them to add some element of drama into the stunt; not only would I succeed or not, but would I be up for the extra challenge? I assumed the bit about naming my companion was so that they could prepare the extra paperwork, but it turned out to be more than that. After careful consideration, we signed contracts and began negotiations about times and places. We even researched who John Franklin was; it turned out that he was a small-time magician who had landed himself a series of six half hour programs and hoped to use these as stepping stones in his magical career, but he was not being entirely selfish, because he was allocating a small amount of time on each show to a specialist performer to show their stuff. I was soon booked as the specialist performer, with Angie as my companion, for his first recording, which by this stage was six weeks away. Those six weeks were a blur; when I was not working my day job or sleeping, I was in the tank practicing with the specified hand-cuffs and padlocks. The practice was paying off, I had the handcuffs, neck-shackle and leg restraints off in under three and a half minutes and the padlock to the lid of the cage should be no trouble. The day of the challenge dawned and we travelled to the studios where the stunt was going to be recorded and got there mid-morning; the show was going to be recorded live that evening. The remainder of the morning was spent being introduced to the crew that would be supervising my escape and checking over the equipment. Then John Franklin took us out to lunch. Once the meal was ordered, he asked, “How do you envision this escape of yours going?” Naturally, I had expected some question along those lines, so I had an answer. “I’ve practiced so that I can do it in under four minutes, but as I can see the clock from inside the tank, I’ll add to the drama, by taking my time I can be out a few seconds before the five minutes is up.” “I thought you’d say something like that, which is why we added the extra challenge option to the contract. What we want is a genuine ‘Will they make it?’ situation, rather than a ‘Can they time it right?’ one.” “I, sort of, expected that was the reasoning, but if I don’t like the extra challenge aspect, I know I don’t have to accept.” “Exactly,” he confirmed. “The paperwork says that with extra challenge comes extra reward; so make your offer and we’ll consider it.” I deliberately included Angie, because she has a better idea of what I can and cannot do, especially on top of all I was already prepared for, and also because I know she worries and it makes her feel better to have her say. “Firstly, let me say you don’t have to make a decision immediately,” he began. “We’ll show you the extra equipment this afternoon and you announce what you decide at show time.” “That’s fair.” It would have been an instant ‘No!’ if I did not get to check the equipment or I was being pressed for an instant decision. “The extra challenge comes in three parts; part one is a lid on the tank, part two is your lovely companion, Angie,” he smiled at her, “shackled to the lid on the tank and part three would be withdrawal of the air hose partway through. Part one would gain you an extra thirty seconds of performance time. Part two would gain you an extra minute, because you’d need to release Angie before you could get out. And for item three we would have to work out when to remove the hose, but on the plus side, we would supply oxygen enriched air to compensate for you not being able to hyperventilate beforehand.” “So, those are the extra challenges. And the rewards?” “Well, if you accept any part of the extras we’ll pay you your original £1000 and £1000 per part you accept, plus another grand if you accept all three and we’ll double it if you succeed. So you could make as much as 10000.” “Ok, so the rewards are not insubstantial.” At this point, his mobile phone went off. He looked apologetic, but still checked it. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. A friend has arrived, late as usual, and I’ve got to teach her how to act when I pass the buzzsaw through her middle.” He rose from the table and we began to rise to follow him. “No, don’t worry, you don’t need to come; I’ll make sure your meal is paid for, while I get something to take away and I’ll get someone to send a taxi to get you back to the studio. Enjoy your meal and I’m sure you have lots to discuss.” Then he caught my eye and he said, “And remember if you fail, you’ll experience magic and what your lovely companion has experienced throughout the escape.” Immediately and without a backward glance he rushed to do what he had to do and was lost from sight. I was slightly stunned, by his last remark; I certainly was not planning on failing, possibly not succeeding in time, but not failing; and reminding one of the possibility is not what one professional does to another professional. The food arrived and we ate, but it did not get the attention it probably deserved, because we were talking about the extra challenges. To my surprise, Angie seemed in favour of the lid on the tank, because the extra time it would take was less than the extra time it gave. She even seemed to be neutral about the removal of the air hose, but most resistant to being attached to the lid of the tank, which I put down to her innate shyness, rather than any concern that I might not be able to release her in order to release myself. The entire result of our talk was we would have to inspect the extra stuff before we could make a decision. At the end of the meal we left and found a taxi waiting, which got us back to the studio about the same time the crew got back from their canteen lunch. They showed us the lid for the tank, which hinged and would be held down by three padlocks, with holes in so that the padlocks could be reached. Then they showed us how the air hose withdrawal would work; there was a remote release mechanism between the actual hose and the mouthpiece which with the addition of the pumped air would produce a dramatic flurry of extra bubbles when it broke free. And finally they showed us the bars mounted on the ends of the tank that Angie could be shackled to; she would be attached to the ends of the bars away from the access holes in the tank lid, but cuffs can easily be slid along bars allowing access through the access hole for the side padlocks (hence Houdini’s remark that sometimes the challenge is keeping the restraints on until the escape starts). When we had the privacy we agreed that the lid would be a great addition and the air hose thing would be OK, as it added drama, as long as they did not do it more than two minutes before the end. Angie was most resistant to being an extra obstacle in my release; eventually she admitted she worried when I was involved in an escape and she coped by not watching and having faith in my abilities, but this would force her to confront the process of me escaping, which she knew I delayed from suspense purposes. It took me a while, but I convinced her that being more involved was the worth the extra four thousand it would gain us; I even promised her a weekend away together with part of the extra money. Once we had decided, I went to find John Franklin to relay our decision to take on the entire extra challenge. I found him talking to a very shaken-looking woman about his age (mid-twenties), who judging by her mascara had been crying a lot. I was about to convey what we had decided, when he said, “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know until the show, but let Ben know so he can make sure the gear is ready, then get to costume and make up so that you and Angie look the part.” It took me about ten minutes to find Ben, the floor manager, and let him know what equipment would be needed. He also gave me directions on how to get to the costume department. I went back to our dressing room and we went to costume. Costume for me was simple; a swim suit in an intense blue with a couple of black lines and a fluffy white bathrobe. Costuming Angie was not anywhere near as simple; they wanted a sexy damsel-in-distress look, but Angie’s natural modesty complicated this, along with the requirement that wrists and ankles should be free of clothes so that it was clear that she was restrained and not to get in the way of my efforts to release her. In the end, she was outfitted with a white calf-length dress with a deep neckline, short sleeves and a slit up to mid-thigh, under this was a tight body-suit, which did wonders for her waist and cleavage and finally a pair of white strappy mid-height heels. She was accessorised with a necklace of what looked like pearls and matching earrings. Then it was on to make-up, where the bare minimum was done with me; foundation, eyeliner and a whole can of hair-lacquer to hold my short hair in place. Angie got the works; her fingernails and toenails were painted, fake tan was applied to all visible areas of skin, her face was made-up to match the sexy damsel-in-distress image they seemed to have in mind for Angie, much emphasis on eyes and lips and then they added more curl to her already curly hair, primarily to make sure it did not end up with it in the way. As we were leaving for a light canteen snack before the show, the head make-up lady, told Angie not to cry, because her the eye make-up would instantly turn her into a panda. The period before the show was uneventful, although I did notice some admiring glances for Angie, which I did not mention, in case it would make her reconsider her part in the stunt. At the appointed time, we were called to the wings and watched John Franklin perform the buzzsaw illusion. The woman I had seen earlier was lain on the travelling table, on top of a piece of wood that had just been sawn to show the reality of the buzzsaw, and the table travelled under the saw with the blade splitting the wood under her and appearing to pass through her bared midriff. She seemed a lot less upset than earlier, but she still eyed the rotating blade with a nervousness, which I wondered whether showed how good an actor she was or embodied a genuine uncertainty as to the outcome of having it appear to pass through her. Naturally she survived her ordeal, but seemed awed by what had happened and relieved it was over. Now it was our turn. John Franklin introduced us as people he had known for a while (which was true if five minutes in a restaurant counted). We went on and he explained the basic concept of the escape. “We suggested some additions to this escape, did you decide to go with then?” he asked. Noting that he was being vague, I paused, to give the editors a chance to ramp up the tension, before being vague right back. “Yes, we decided that we’d go with all of them, but Angie isn’t particularly happy about her part.” “Quite understandable; being an obstacle in your partner’s escape would make anyone nervous,” he commented. Then we got down to the business at hand, while John Franklin provided commentary to cover what would be, to the observer, the dull part of the procedure. First I knelt on the grid that was the base of the cage and clamps were placed over my calves and ankles held in place with padlocks, then I bent down and a collar was put round my neck and padlocked to a short chain attached to the floor of the cage. The sides of the cage were folded up and pinned in place and the top of the cage slotted into place, hinged down and the padlock put in place. The final part of me being locked into the death cage was me putting my wrists near the lid and Ben closing the handcuffs round my wrists with the chain between over the central bar of the cage’s lid, thus holding my wrists up from my back and straining my shoulders a bit. In this cramped and uncomfortable position, I was fed the air hose while two bars were attached to the cage. Four large men took an end of a bar each and lifted the entire assembly and a young lady took charge of my air supply. As soon as I was over the tank I gave a thumbs up to indicate I was ok and ready to proceed. Carefully the men lowered me into the water, while the young lady stage hand clipped the hose into position on the hinge side of the tank. The water was icy cold, which was good, because the body’s natural reaction is to restrict blood supply to the peripheral parts of the body and so preserving more oxygen for fuelling the core bodily functions, effective lowering your metabolism; the downside being that your hands go numb before too long, which is not ideal if you require them to be dexterous and sensitive. As the air began to pump with the sweet tang of added oxygen I looked up to check I could still see the clock; I could, so I made another thumbs up gesture to show I was happy to continue. The final stages of the preparations I did not see, because my view was confined to looking through the cage and the clear Plexiglas walls of the tank at the studio floor and the legs of the crew doing their jobs. First came the rush of additional cold as they poured two buckets of additional water into the tank to convince the audience I was truly submerged, this was accompanied by some muted thuds as the other two crewmen fitted and closed the tank’s lid, then the air-hose lady attached the padlocks to hold it down. More water-muffled knocks and bangs followed telling me that Angie was being shackled to the bars on top of the tank. I spent this time to remember my planned sequence of escape and generally calm my nerves, by breathing deeply to increase the oxygen in my system. A tap on the end of the tank told me that all was ready and as I wanted to get on with it I made the agreed double thumbs up to show I was ready. I glimpsed Ben’s face and then his hand holding out three fingers; the countdown had begun and I was already moving my lockpicking tool from where I had it palmed to the tips of my fingers. One of Ben’s fingers folded away, then another and finally the entire hand was taken out of my sight; the escape had begun. To aid my concentration I closed my eyes and took a moment to concentrate on the planned sequence of the escape, then I began the dramatic thrashing about; given my constrained position it was not much, but is served to cover the fact I was using the pick to release the handcuffs. Ten seconds can seem like an eternity, but it took me that long to find the key hole in my cuff, partly because Ben had put the cuffs on my wrists so that the hole I was looking for was on the wrong side. A quick check confirmed it would be easier to transfer the pick and release the other wrist first so that’s what I did. With one cuff released, I opened my eyes to check the time on the clock, while I transferred the pick back to the now uncuffed hand; forty-three seconds; where has all that time gone, I am usually out of the first cuff in about twenty five seconds. I put it down to the minor problem with the orientation of the cuff and possibly nerves, and took another deep breathe from the air hose. I closed my eyes again and tackled the other cuff. With the picking hand free it is not to long before the second hand is free. Another time check, One minute nineteen seconds; I think I must have missed something, but I still had a little over five minutes for eight padlocks and four more sets of cuffs, but now I could work with both hands and the strain between my shoulder blades had eased. I moved to start on the neck shackle, but noticed a camera through the glass of the tank and paused to give a smile, which I hoped said, ‘I am doing ok, but not as ok as I had hoped,’ and a brief thumbs up, before continuing to release myself from the bottom of the cage. I grabbed the padlock holding the neck shackle to the chain in my left hand and fitted the pick into the keyhole. A few jiggles and it was open but I bumped my elbow on the side of the tank and accidentally snapped it back shut. Rats! A little more circumspectly, I released the neck padlock again. The original plan had been to remove the collar once it was released, despite this seeming to be unnecessary, but it would fill time to make the escape seem more life and death at the end without me floating about doing nothing. I decided with the two mistakes that had already been made that it would be a waste of time, so I just skooched back a bit to get easier access to the last four padlocks holding me to the cage. While I reached for the first of these I looked at the time again. Two minutes and thirteen seconds! I knew I had lost a bit of time but that seemed a lot. Was I missing something? Was there too much added oxygen? I’d heard that an excess of added oxygen can impair your faculties, like being drunk, but surely they would not do that. ‘Concentrate!’ I told myself. I went to work on the padlocks holding my legs to floor of the cage. I soon had both my calves free and the shackles open so I could sit back even further to make it easier to reach the ankle shackles. I decided on another time check in the hope that I could calm myself a bit by seeing that I had made back some of the time I had lost. As I looked up the clock ticked over to three minutes; good, but not great, I had not lost any further time, but not gained any either. As I leaned back and worked on my ankle restraints, I closed my eyes once more. Another bump of an elbow on the side of the cage reminded me that I should be more careful to avoid needing to pick these locks twice. The first padlock fell away, so onto the second, but where was it? A feel about told me that in my thrashing about it had changed position and was jammed under my buttock. I changed position and repositioned the lock so that I could pick it. Once I had it in my grasp it fell away with a few deft movements of the pick I still had in my hand. ‘Stay calm!’ only four locks on the lids and the cuffs restraining Angie to go. Another look at the time, which I was rapidly feeling was becoming the enemy. Three minutes fifty-two seconds! ‘Surely it can’t have taken that long.’ I felt the edge of panic, so I paused to just breathe the enriched air which I knew I would be losing in another minute. I turned on my side and felt the hinge of the neck shackle catch on one of the bars of the cage; maybe not removing it had been a bad idea after all. I looked towards the audience, feeling certain that they could see me; I could not see them, or even the cameras, because it seemed my movements had splashed water through the holes in the lid and water was running down the outside of the tank. I looked up and saw that the skirt of Angie’s dress was soaked and the added weight had pulled on the rest it opening up the slit to show more leg than she would be comfortable with. ‘I bet she looks good,’ I thought. ‘Don’t get distracted!’ I admonished myself, ‘Focus!’ My hand found the padlock securing the cage shut and it was soon open and removed to join the other five padlocks on the tank floor. Another change of position and I could reach through the access hole in the lid of the tank between Angie’s ankles. Reaching through, I snagged the lock and positioned it so I could quickly have it undone once I had changed hands. As I changed hands the neck shackle once again bumped against the cage’s bars, causing a small loss of precious momentum. Nonetheless, I reached through and the lock fell open at my touch and I unhooked it and tossed it away. I took another look at the timer to find out how soon I was going to lose my air supply; I did not want to be surprised by the sudden flurry of bubbles when the air hose broke away at the agreed time of five minutes and three seconds. The clock showed four minutes and fifty-five. While I reached for the second lid padlock I counted in my head to be ready; I had reached six when I felt the change in the texture of the water and shortly after a light thump on my back as the air-hose snaked its way out of the tank. I spat out the now useless mouth piece and grimaced for the camera I knew would be watching for a reaction. I had hoped to already be releasing Angie at this point. The second padlock was soon thrown away and I was reaching for the third; the one between Angie’s restrained wrists. This was positioned and unlocked in a matter of another ten seconds. Time was getting tight. I had just over a minute to release four cuffs and get out of the tank. I considered changing the plan again; the fine print said I had to release Angie’s wrists before her ankles, so she could not get off the tank lid and open it for me before she was properly released. I was thinking about unlocking her ankles first and taking whatever penalty was due, but Angie already had slid one wrist to where I could get to it. I decided that rather than cause Angie more concern by changing the plan, I would have to proceed as planned. Angie was shaking with nerves which made the fiddly job of releasing the first cuff a little trickier, but it was soon done and another wrist presented. While I was liberating Angie’s other wrist, I saw something happening out of the corner of my eye. Between us and the cameras John Franklin and Ben were holding up a deep red cloth. Even before I had finished the cuff I was working on I had a last glimpse of the timer; it showed six minute and two seconds. Then as the cuff opened, the cloth settled over the tank; I was now in darkness. I mentally cursed John Franklin and crew for cheating as I turned inside the cage to release Angie’s ankles which I knew she would have in position for me, despite the added distraction. I reached through and instantly found the cuff on her left ankle. I began to hear, muffled by the water the beeps that indicated the last ten seconds. Then I dropped my pick; the coldness of the water had taken its toll at last. As I heard the electronic beeps countdown the final seconds of the challenge, I was groping for the dropped picking-tool. I was resigned to failing the challenge, but there would be very little to do to rescue me, just finish releasing Angie’s legs and open the lids. I would have acquitted myself well and if it had not been for several avoidable mistakes I could well have succeeded. The final beep seemed so much louder than the previous nine. I realised my head had gone swimmy for a moment. Things were different from what they were a moment ago; I was out of the water, but still under the cloth. Instinct told me that I was now on the lid of the tank and that I should get off. I rolled off onto the floor in the direction of the audience; there was a hush that seemed to ask, ‘What is going to happen now?’ I struggled from the folds of the cloth to see what was going on. And was greeted with a small cheer, which suddenly stopped as they noticed something that I had not yet. I turned and looked at the tank, expecting to see both lids open, but they were both shut. How had I got out without opening the lids? Then I noticed the lids were once again padlocked. Then the key thing I had missed hit me; inside the cage in the tank full of water was Angie, shackled exactly as I had been. “Get her out of there!” I yelled, but the crew were already rushing toward the tank, with keys and lifting bars in hand. I felt the urge to rush forward and help, but realised that I would only be in the way; I felt so helpless. Angie was desperately trying to move to release herself, but all these constrained movements contrived to do was cause her hair and skirt to float about her. As the padlocks holding the lid of the tank were released, I was hoping Angie had not breathed in any water when she unexpectedly found herself underwater. I hoped she was not drowning while I watched totally impotent to help her in any way. Much to my relief, the lid slammed open and the four men who had lowered me into that tank of cold water, began to attach the bars to the lid of the cage. At this point I suddenly wished that the lid was locked, because if it was loose the whole cage would jam in the tank and delay the time when my Angie would be able to breathe again. I took half a step toward the tank, thinking I would check, but then John Franklin took hold of me and said, “There’s nothing you can do, rely on them to do their jobs and don’t interfere.” It took a huge effort of will to take that totally correct advice. When the men had hoisted the cage from the tank, I took what I realised was the first breathe since my yell, my head seemed to have a dull ache. As the cage touched the floor, John Franklin let go of my arm and I rushed to see that Angie was alright. She was breathing heavily with her hair plastered to her face and the skirt clinging to her legs. It took the crew nearly a minute to release Angie and she stumbled into my arms; during this time I took a little time to bless the foresight of the costume department for making Angie wear the body suit under the dress or she would have been rather more exposed than she thought. The air hose lady came up with two white fluffy dressing gowns and we were bustled off stage. Once in our dressing room, I had time to consider what had occurred. While I felt my failure to escape in the allotted time was my fault, Angie ending up lock and shackled in the cage underwater was entirely down to John Franklin and his team and all the worse for not let us know it was a possible scenario. I was becoming angry, but could not think what to do about it. Eventually, getting dry and changing into our own clothes became the priority. Finally I asked Angie, “What happened?” “I don’t quite know. I saw you drop the pick in the dim light under the cloth they flung over us as the beeping from the timer started, I was about to reach forward and put it in your hand, when just before the final beep, I took a very deep breath and was suddenly in the water with my neck and shins shackled to the base of the cage. I’ve never been so frightened. At least I had the presence of mind to hold my breath until they rescued me; I never realised it was so hard.” “Me?” I said, “I’ve never felt so helpless; wanting to help you, but being totally unable to, in fact if I had got any closer I would probably have delayed them getting you out, which feels doubly helpless.” “That’s kind of how I feel, every time you are doing any remotely dangerous escape. You know, trying to help would probably worse than standing back and hoping.” “I guess that’s what Franklin meant when he said something about me feeling what you feel while I escape. And if you believe in magic that swimmy feeling in my head when it happen must have been it. I guess we were kind of warned, but very obliquely. He’d better have a good explanation or I’ll not be answerable for my actions. Make that a very, verrrry good explanation.” We sat and wondered if we could get a cup of tea, while the adrenalin subsided. About ten minutes later. John Franklin knock on the door and entered. Before he could open his mouth, I said, “This had better be good, because we are not happy and if we don’t leave happy, we’ll be suing you for breach of contract for as much as we can get.” His smile faltered for maybe half a second, while considered what line would best keep him and his reputation from being dragging through the mud. “What a performance! You certainly earned your ten grand.” For a moment, I wondered what he was talking about, so I asked aggressively. “You were marvellous,” he said. “I auditioned some professionals, but they had nothing on you. They were too smooth to make the illusion look credible. But you with the couple of fumbles made it look truly death-defying and you were incredibly fast; if we hadn’t tweaked the timer to run fifty percent faster, you’d have been out long before the time limit and the magic couldn’t have happened.” For a moment part of my brain did the maths. I had got to the point I had got to in a few seconds over four minutes even with all the extra obstacles and recovering the pick and undoing the last of Angie’s shackles would not have taken the whole of the final minute of the original challenge. I was mentally patting myself on the back, when another part of my mind reminded me that my failure to finish in the allotted time was not my beef with Mr Franklin, but the fact he had tried to drown Angie. “Now I understand why you say I earned the money, but what about what happened next? Angie was completely unprepared for her dunking, possibly near drowning.” I looked at Angie for confirmation and support; she looked sheepish instead. “I wasn’t totally unprepared, but I had been warned I would end up in the water.” “When?” I challenged. “When I rang my cousin John to congratulate him on getting his TV deal. I wished him well and expressed some disappointment that I was failing to let you know how stressful your ‘hobby’ was for me. He suggested that he could help, if I was prepared to seem in danger and arrange that you get involved. He called the illusion ‘The Drowning Pool’; it took me some time to find it, ‘coz there’s a band called the same thing that gets the top hits when I searched on YouTube, but once I understood the concept it seemed like the only way to make you see how bad it makes me feel to be helpless while you escape.” “You’re right!” I admitted, “I’ve been selfish in not considering how you feel when I do my thing. I’ll give it up, if you ask me to.” “Before today I’d have said, ‘Yes, please give up escapology.’ But having been in the spotlight and properly the centre of attention, rather than just someone who came along with you. I have some idea of the buzz you get from it. I want to join you in escaping; you can train me. I’ll probably never be as good as you, but together we could be better than anyone.” John interjected, “You are the best amateur I have ever seen.” “Do you really mean that?” I asked looking at Angie, she nodded. “You know I love you?” She nodded again; she seemed almost at the point of tears. “Angie, will you marry me?” She closed the two paces between us, said, “Of course, I will, Brenda!” and we hugged until we were out of breath.

The sun was shining and the park seemed fairly crowded. In the area near the bandstand, Terry, in his usual attire of black T-shirt, jeans and trainers and followed by a cameraman, stood and watched groups of people wander by. He is holding a small black backpack. Terry, trailed by the cameraman, approaches a group consisting of three couples in their early twenties. “Good afternoon,” he greets the group, “My name is Terry; I’m a magician. We are filming some location magic stunts for a TV magic show. Would you like to take part?” ...

Although everything ends up happily for this story’s characters (despite that seeming unlikely at some points!), trash play can be quite dangerous. Don’t try to replicate anything found in this story for real. Though, some of what is described is unrealistic enough it really CAN’T be replicated, so there’s also that. Enjoy! I hope at least some readers will enjoy this as much as Robert and Michael did… Robert and Michael looked out over the processing floor. There was trash everywhere, most of it bagged up in hoppers and sitting on conveyor belts all waiting for the two guys to fire up the machines which would destroy it. But today, there was something more—something special. One of the trash bags, one of the ones on the conveyor right over there, had a very special piece of trash in it. Her name was Lindsey. The guys had met her the previous night, at the bar, and had taken her home. It had been a long, lovely, lustful night, but things didn’t get really interesting until she found out that they worked in the disposal industry. ...

Lana and Lisa were always a bit competitive. Identical twins, they were close and shared the bonds one would expect of two people who had known one another since before birth. But in their teen years a need to establish their individualities set them on a road that saw their relationship become strained. They were both overachievers in high school and both were first in their class at one point or another. They would go out on their own to get a new outfit or hair style, only to come home and find the other had made a similar choice. Even when they argued they often ended up saying the same things to one another at once. It was quite vexing. ...

story continues from part fifteen Chapter 16 We took our leave of my friends and piled back into the car. I looked at Suzi and we both broke out laughing as I asked, “Was you rogering last night, Suzi?” “I was rogering the man I love! And I’m proud of it!” she exclaimed. She then blushed a beet-root red and I kissed her nose. It was going to take a little while for her to get used to the military way of life. ...

Paul sat looking at the heavily boned brace the doctor had placed on his wrist, the multiple metal stays and Velcro straps hooked to the laces made him think the design would be good for a bondage wrap of some sort. During the next few weeks while he was unable to work he had searched the internet and found the materials he thought he would need and ordered them and now sat in front of the rarely used sewing machine slowly stitching the three layers of material together. ...

story continued from chapter ten Chapter 11: This could be fun!!! Update 5 from my prison “So, you want to participate in a domination session with Jules and me, is that correct?” I asked. “Yes, I would,” Master replied. “Very well then, but first you must learn my name. Call me Mistress,” I ordered. “Yes, Mistress,” he replied. “Good, let’s get started then,” I said. “Jules! Jules get in here. I have a surprise for you,” I hollered. ...

Here it is: the twisted, dark ending to the Sophia Maidbot stories. This should be the last “official” commission for Sophia from TFMonkey This is definitely not something I normally write, but since so many of you wanted it, here it is. Hopefully you enjoy how it turned out.. Story continued from Sophia Maid to be a Maidbot So many things in life happen, and we never really ask “what if,” especially if the situation turned out well. For those that do, let’s backtrack on our story of Sophia. We know she has Evan and a look-alike maidbot, and of course, a wedding coming up. Let me take you back to a seemingly innocent afternoon at her house. While planning the wedding, her and her soon-to-be sister-in-law were out doing errands. Well, actually, her maidbot-as-her was out with Sophia’s soon-to-be sister-in-law. Sophia was home and had activated her administrative privileges to be herself while the maidbot was away. She could not wait to try on the dress, and she had just finished when the others came home and the house system forced Sophia into maidbot mode. Life went on and the wedding was gorgeous! But, what if the house system had malfunctioned and not placed her in maidbot mode. She would have had to pretend to be a maidbot, which is nothing new, yet her sister-in-law had a secret that was not brought to light in our first story’s ending, and if questioned about it, she would not admit it. You know how you can keep a secret from yourself, stealing away that it is not real. Now that Sophia is pretending instead, she does something that opens the door for a devious plan to unfold, and while it was mostly accidental, lives can be altered forever, even by a seemingly innocent betrayal. And this plan…well, perhaps maybe you should read it for yourself. ...

story continued from part three Part 4 Roger was still snoring when Ochsianna left the apartment. Their living arrangements have taken a great deal of stress off her. He helps with the rent and groceries, which were her biggest bills. Now, Patton has made alimony payments on time with money to spare for the past 3 months. So, why am I getting up before the crack of dawn for extra money, she whines. She grins as she snaps on her helmet, obviously, more money can’t hurt. As she winds her way through traffic, she thinks back to the conversation that got her here. Betsy was waiting for her on Thursday afternoon when she came back to the storage room that day. She had that usual “I’m so screwed” look on her face. Is it possible that someone could have that much bad luck? Betsy starts, “So Ochs, have any weekend plans?” ...

Part 1 It was early afternoon on the second Sunday of November, 1931. His Lordship, Henry, the 5th Earl of Harrisford, heard footsteps on the polished floor of the hallway outside the library of his London townhouse. His wife, Elizabeth, the Countess Harrisford, had left the room about 30 minutes earlier and he thought that it must be she, returning. But something didn’t seem quite right. The sound of the high-heeled boots which his wife had been wearing made a sharper click; these footsteps were softer. ...

This is a continuation of PoseMe’s fantastic “Married to the Maid” My eyes snap open as programmed at 7:00 am. My pod door opens, and my cleaning and lubrication probes retract and fold into my servicing pod. Directly in front of me, my android maid Angela is sliding on her grey latex maid uniform, with red fringe and highlights. It is my fourth month since I began living as one of the maids. I smoothly step from the pod, with perfect balance. I always move gracefully when the house is controlling my movements through my control collar. Without it I would wobble and risk falling when wearing my platform high heels. ...

This is a direct continuation of Married to the maid Chapter 2. Which is itself a continuation of PoseMe’s “Married to the Maid” so go read that first, as it is better than this. I am new to writing (this is just my 2nd / 3rd story). Chapter 3 Val is an amazing listener. She is engaged and patient as I retell the events of the last four months. She laughs when I explain how bossy Espa was the first time she ran the owner program I installed, and is concerned when I explain how Espa slept with my husband Sean. She then asked me a question that had not even occurred to me. ...

“Just… ugh, explain it to me again, okay?” I rubbed my eyes in the dull morning glow and sat back down on the sofa. Opposite me, a girl with long jet-black hair, dark makeup and big brown eyes gave an exasperated gasp. “I don’t know how else to explain it to you, dude!” She crossed her arms over her chest, wearing a loose black t-shirt with a digitally distorted skull figure on it. “Okay alright just… start at the beginning again. You found this ‘job posting’ on some website?” She nodded. “About two weeks ago. I’m in need of the cash now that my hours have been cut to almost nothing, and this seemed like a reasonably legitimate gig.” “So you’re… being paid to test this… thing.” “Yes.” She waved her hands over herself. “This is some kind of weird… suit, that I put on each morning, and then I have to wear it for at least a couple hours a day. Don’t ask me how it works!” - She held up a hand before I could even get the words out of my mouth - “I honestly don’t know. The woman running the test gave me a box with this suit in it and a trunk of clothing, and just gave me instructions to wear it each day and to send her pictures of me in it. She gave me half the money up front, and promised the rest plus expenses after four weeks.” I just frowned and tried to make sense of it. “… Okay… but it… turned you into a… a chick?” She raised an eyebrow and gave a half-shrug. “I guess so. I mean. I’m back to normal as soon as I take it off, so it’s just temporary.” “But how is that even… you… how does it…” “I already told you I don’t know. It’s got this kind of gross slimy surface on the insides, and when I put it on it sticks onto me like a plaster. Once it’s on me, I can feel everything as if I wasn’t wearing anything special at all, just… feels like real skin, y’know?” I kept frowning in disbelief as she sat up slightly, opening and closing her right hand on the desk chair opposite me. I had commanded her to sit down there after I’d woken up early and found this stranger rummaging through the kitchen - I thought she was some punk rocker that Dan knew, but when she tried to tell me that she was Dan, I was hesitant to believe her. What if she was some kind of crazy ex? I stood up and pointed “W-well… okay, if you’re really Dan, then, I dunno, tell me something only Dan would know.” “Seriously dude?” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, like… I know your real name isn’t Frank, it’s Francis but you don’t like the way that name sounds, and you broke your arm in middle school trying to ride a skateboard down a staircase, and that you dated Sarah even though you said you didn’t l-” “Okay alright! I believe you, okay?” I rubbed my eyes again. “Fuck… alright… you’re Dan.” “Yes!” She relaxed, sighing. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep you in the loop, alright?” “I mean, I don’t think I’d have believed you if you had, but… it’s alright.” I sat back down opposite the weird girl-shaped roommate. “This is a really weird-ass kind of hobby, though.” She pursed her lips defensively, which only made the fact that they had dark red lipstick on them more obvious. “Man it’s not, like, for fun or anything! It’s for this woman I found on the internet, who actually turned out to be LEGIT, and has already paid me serious cash. She said she was some kind of inventor that specialised in really weird stuff.” I snorted. “To be honest I’m more surprised you actually found a chick on the internet that actually turned out to be a chick!” She gave a small smile. “Not the usual kind of ‘job’ on the internet, I guess. It was pretty vague in description, but didn’t stink of all the usual fake or scam hallmarks, so I gave it a chance and it turned out to be… this.” I looked her up and down. “So, tell me again - you wear this… you wear ‘her’ for a couple hours a day and then… that’s it?” “Well, that’s what I was told to do at the start. That woman also texts me every now and then asking for some specific stuff, like wear some particular outfit and send her pictures, or sometimes visit her in such and such place to tell her how things are going.” My turn to raise an eyebrow. “Okay, that’s… unusual… and how are things going, then?” I was immensely curious by this point. “Well as you can tell, the thing works pretty damn well, even down to changing how my voice sounds. You could never tell it was me, could you?” I shook my head. “So that means it’s working as expected, right?” “Well… I mean… I’ve been experiencing some… weird feelings sometimes if I’m honest.” Seriously dude? “Oh, feelings like ‘what the hell are you doing wearing a suit that turns you into a chick for two weeks’?” She gave me a sour look. “No, actually, smartass. That’s been surprisingly easy to adjust to.” She stood up and took a step over to look out the window, her hands in her hoodie pockets. “I’ve been having weird dreams sometimes, and I have this kind of headache after I-…” “… After you what?” Her eyes widened. After a millisecond of deduction, I figured it out. “After you finish jacking off as a woman.” I kept a straight face as she spun around, agitated. “Dude!” “What? It’s obvious! It’s literally the first thing everyone would do if they had the chance!” “But… I know, but it’s still… I don’t really wanna be talking about that, y’know?” I huffed. “Understandable. But still, you did it… what’s it like? How’s it compare?” She turned around again, hiding her face. “I’m not gonna… well I’ll say it’s… different. Just different.” Hm. “Well okay then. You’ve been, uh, ’testing’ this girl out for a while now, and you’ve been dressing up and meeting this inventor lady, and now you say you’ve had weird dreams?” “Not just dreams.” She crossed her arms again. “It’s like… sometimes I feel it… moving, like without me consciously doing anything, right?” She pulled on her elbow. “It’s like those freaky involuntary twitches you get when you smack somethin’ just below your kneecap, only it’s really slow and hard to notice until it’s happened.” “… okay, that’s… even weirder. And you’ve reported this stuff to the lady?” “Not yet - I can’t really say for certain what’s even happening, and even if I did I’d have to explain to her that I… well, y’know.” She made a vague gesture and I nodded. “Right, she didn’t mention any kind of stuff you shouldn’t do or whatever?” “Nope. And now there’s…. " Turning back, she shuffled over to the loosely hanging hall mirror and started feeling around the back of her neck. “… I keep losing it but… there’s definitely some kind of… thing sticking out of my neck whenever I’m inside the suit. ...

Chapter 1 I was the person who approves the mortgage loans at the bank where I work. Actually, seeing as though there is only one bank in town, you may as well say I controlled the financing of most of the construction in the town. I had held this prestigious position for over 4 years and was held in high regard by all the bank employees including management. While not really one a fast track, I expected further promotions to come. My long term goal was to become the first female bank President. Then I made a career ending mistake. ...

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am your magician for the evening,” the guy on the small stage announced. “Most of the evening I shall be doing small tricks for people at their tables, but if anyone wants to see or volunteer for any of the well known stage illusions or even request something that has not been seen, you will find small note pads on your tables; just write me a note and hand it to your waitress and I’ll see if I can oblige. I hope to do two or three items of magic on this stage for all this evening.” ...

Story continues from Part 1: Saturdays were Maid for Me & Part 2: Saturdays were Maid for You & Part 3: Maidbots are Maid to Clean This should be the last official commission for Sophie from tfmonkey. You will note there is a short epilogue with a happy ending. I will be adding am alternate twist ending to this. I have not started it yet, but tfmonkey and I have some ideas. I will post it some day…who knows when. Enjoy! ...

Anna worked as a housemaid in a posh 5 star hotel in a large capital city, she’d been there for a couple of years and in that time she’d seen several celebrities stay over when in town. But today she found out that her all-time favourite rock star was staying at her hotel, she’d been a great fan and had idolised him for a number of years, so saying that she was excited would be an understatement. She also found out that he was staying on the floor that she was assigned to clean today, she may even have a chance to see him, the thoughts made her feel dizzy. Once the staff briefing was over she headed to collect her cart and everything needed to clean the rooms on her floor. She knew of course that it was against the hotel’s policy to interact with the guests, something that she could be dismissed for, but she knew that this would may be her only opportunity to see him this close. Anna took the service elevator up to her floor, there were other housemaids in the lift and each time the lift stopped to let one of the maids off, she felt the frustration and annoyance that this was taking precious time away from the chance of seeing her idol. Finally she made it up to her floor, but first she had to clean a couple of other rooms beforehand, as they had guests coming that day and would need to be ready for when they arrived. Two hours later Anna moved on to the rooms where her idol was staying in the hotel, she knew that he was staying in suite 806 but had several other rooms for his staff and one for press conferences. Carefully knocking on the door to 806, she announced herself, “Room service.” And waited for a response, when she heard none she opened the door with her electronic key. Upon entering the room she re-announced “Room service”, but again there was no response, she knew from experience that she could now get on with her tasks whilst the guest was out somewhere. She could also have a good look around whilst no one was there, this was after all her rock idols room, maybe she could get some sort of keepsake. Anna looked around the room, well the lounge part of the suite, she hadn’t gotten to the bedroom part yet, there were several things lying around and she best thought that she should be tidying up should anyone chance coming back and spotting her in here. She began collecting glasses left over from what looked like a party; these she would wash and return to the drinks cabinet. Next she picked up items thrown on the floor, plus bagging the trash that was left lying around. She then entered the bedroom, the room was dark with the curtains closed blocking out the daylight, switching on the lights and then walking over to open the curtains without another thought, she was shocked when she turned back. There laying in the bed was a person, “Sorry” she stammered, “I thought that the room was unoccupied.” She was about to leave but when she didn’t get a response from the person in the bed she decided to check that they were okay, she’d had heard of guest being found unconscious, drugged or even dead by other maids, so she didn’t want that on her conscience. Anna headed over to the bed, maybe she thought that he was laying there under the covers; the thought excited her that she would finally get to see him up close and very personal. As she got closer to the bed she noticed one leg was left uncovered by the sheets, it was covered in some black material and definitely looked female. “Excuse me madam.” She said, but still got no response from them. She edged closer and reached out to touch the leg, “Madam.” She said again and touched the leg, feeling the coldness of the leg and the slick feeling of the material covering it. Anna was shocked at first, maybe she was dead, she felt cold to the touch and wasn’t responding, she decided to pull the covers back to reveal the face. When she did she gasped at what she saw, the face was covered in the same black material as the leg. Only the eyes were visible, then she looked at the mouth, they were a vivid pink colour, puffy and shaped to form an ‘O’. Anna touched the female on the shoulder to get some form of response, “Madam.” She said as she shook the shoulder. Getting no response, she pulled back the covers to reveal the woman was clad in a skin tight suit made from the black material, it looked shiny and covered her all over, her curves accentuated by the shine and the material. Touching the woman again she began to realise that she wasn’t alive, and the feel of her body under the material felt soft but not like flesh, more fabricated. The eyes hadn’t moved but were open, Anna looked into them but there was no response. Anna lifted the woman up into a sitting position, then realised that she was indeed not a human female but rather a sex doll, she’d read about these in the news, lately there had been several stories about men preferring these dolls to real females, using them for their pleasure she assumed. Now she was face to face, so to speak with a real sex doll. But it was the suit that covered the doll that intrigued Anna; she’d seen several female celebrities wearing something this shiny in public appearances in her magazines. ‘What was the material they were wearing?’ she thought to herself. Then it came to her ‘Latex! They were wearing a latex outfit, that’s why they were so shiny.’ Anna looked down at the doll in front of her, she closely examined the suit that the doll was wearing, it covered every inch of her body, with only openings for the eyes, her mouth and as Anna looked down below, her pussy was also the same vivid pink as her lips, it stood out between her legs leaving no doubt about what her uses were. ‘Okay, so he likes to use dollies’ Anna thought, ‘does that change how I feel about him?’ No was her answer. She needed to get on with cleaning, the room wasn’t going to magically clean itself and she would be in trouble with her boss if she didn’t complete her tasks. Whilst vacuuming the rooms her thoughts kept going back to the discovery of the doll in the bed, why would he use one when he had the pick of hundreds of women who would give their right arm to spend the night with their idol. The thought of the doll and the suit kept running through her mind as she continued cleaning, she even finished cleaning her other assigned rooms, before she finished though she had to venture back into his room, she hadn’t made the bed, the discovery of the doll had first shocked her, but then given time she seemed to accept that it was his preference. So she re-entered the bedroom to make the bed. It was when she picked up the doll that the first wicked thoughts started to enter her head, the doll was about the same build and weight as Anna, from her initial estimate the dolls body was similar in shape to her own. She did seem to like the touch of the latex material and wondered what she’d look like wearing the suit that the doll was wearing and what it would feel like. Leaving the room she quickly returned her cart to a service cupboard on her floor, she called her boss to say that she was finished but she had a bad headache and would need to go home early. Once satisfied all the loose ends were taken care of she returned to the room, she’d left the door to the room propped open prior so she didn’t have to use her key, which would be recorded by the system and as she was now officially off the clock, she would be in trouble for using it after work. Once safely inside she ventured back into the bedroom, there she found the doll just as she’d left her. She began removing the latex suit that covered the doll, it wasn’t easy but she found that once she started it became easier to remove. The doll was soon naked, the suit was the only thing covering her body, Anna felt at first embarrassed at seeing her like this but then realised that she was just a doll after all, the doll felt no shame. Anna then stripped off her uniform, even taking her underwear off as she didn’t want anything between her and the suit. She picked up the suit, looking inside she saw white powder against the inner surface; it smelt of talc, something she’d used after showering herself. She began looking for the container and found it in the bathroom. Anna doused herself in the talcum powder, without realising that this would enable her to slide into the suit easier but also mask any body odour from her work beforehand cleaning the rooms. She again picked up the suit and placed her left leg inside, the black hole accepting her proffered limb as it engulfed her in its inky blackness. Her foot found the bottom section which with some pressure allowed her foot to come to rest inside. Anna then placed her right leg inside and pushed through again until her foot was seated in the suit. Now she began pulling the suit up her legs and over her thighs, as she looked down inside the suit she noticed the inserts that had been inside the doll. ‘Oh!’ she thought, ‘I didn’t realise that there were two. But then I suppose all of the dolls openings would be available to be used.’ She found a bottle of lube by the side of the bed, ‘That’s handy, I wonder if he’d used it on the doll?’ Anna thought, ‘but then the doll wouldn’t have the natural lubrication that a normal female would’. She reasoned to herself. Anna spread the lube on the two inserts, ‘Here we go’ she thought and began the task of inserting the rear one first, with the lube helping the first insert slid into her rear, it was tight but with persistence she managed to get the thing inside her. The front insert slid in much easier, ‘Mustn’t be as tight there’, she mused to herself. With the inserts now in place Anna pulled the suit over her hips, the latex gripping her flesh as she pulled the suit up and over. She was starting to enjoy the feeling of the latex material, the tightness and all-enclosure ramping up her sexual desire, she found herself surprised that she was getting so turned on by wearing the suit. ...

Is Stan Satanowski truly a Son of Satan Impersonating a Devil can be dangerous, but it has its rewards. Especially if you are a horny Devil. * * * * * * * * * * * * Stan Satanowski stepped out of the state of the art spray tanning booth in his basement. It was a computer-controlled, fully-automatic model and should have cost much more than he could possibly afford, but he had gotten it basically for free. ...

Is Stan Satanowski truly a Son of Satan Impersonating a Devil can be dangerous, but it has its rewards. Especially if you are a horny Devil. * * * * * * * * * * * * Stan Satanowski stepped out of the state of the art spray tanning booth in his basement. It was a computer-controlled, fully-automatic model and should have cost much more than he could possibly afford, but he had gotten it basically for free. ...

Story continues from Part 1: Saturdays were Maid for Me & Part 2: Saturdays were Maid for You Here’s a commission for tfmonkey to continue my “Saturdays were maid for me” series. You can read the first one or the second one which are pretty important to understand what is happening now. Yes, I realize there is so much more that I can do next, but I wanted to post up to this point, as it has taken me months just to get this far (with work taking 25 hours of my 24 hour days). Enjoy! ...

“Look, you are my best friend and all, but there is no way I am doing this,” the tall mid-20s guy says while standing outside a Venn Machine. “Come on, man,” the other well-dresses, mid-20s guy says next to him, “This is the only way to fix it… we have to do it… no matter what our pride might think.” The two handsome, young men face each other, knowing there is no way they can go back, but they are not sure they can actually go forward. Maybe you need to understand the situation… Chance and Joel have been best friends since they were 10, so going to the same college, after high school, seemed obvious. Since Chance’s family was excessively rich, they lived at his house. They have changed their major a dozen times, at least, in the first 3 years and hope to pull another 3 more years out of college before they are 30. Chance’s parents are mostly disengaged, as they both have high paying salaries doing things that Chance has never asked about. For him, life is just one big party, which usually takes place at his house and his parent’s maidbots clean-up. He can stay at home so long as he is in college, but on graduation day, he is out into the real world, and they are trying to milk the good life for as long as they can. So, when his parents were away, he does not do anything different, except that he knows his dad will check all the house data logs upon his return. In those data logs are all in entrances and exits of people coming and going around the house, as well as all the digital footprints of any mobile devices. He has learned that he can be grounded if he breaks anything that costs real money, which is essentially just the maidbots. Therefore, he is more careful with them during those times. However, this last party, things got out of hand and well, both were broken beyond his repair (one word: pretzel). He can delete the error logs for that night, so long as the maidbots boot up normally the next day. But, there is no way the repair store can have them running until the end of the week. So, that bad decision has led to this night, which might be another bad decision… Chance, dragging a maidbot in his arms, says, “Look, it will work. We will become maidbots for the week. Our girl friends will drop off the broken ones at the shop.” Joel holds up his hand, balancing the maidbot he is dragging on one arm, and asks, “But why do we need our girlfriends to be us?” Repositioning the heavier-than-it-looks maidbot in his arms, Chance replies, “Mom and dad will be home the day before the maidbots are ready. So, our girlfriends need to be us for one day. Once the real maidbots are ready, they can Venn us all back to normal.” Joel nods his head, thinking he has the plan in his mind, but it still seems risky. Finally at the Venn machine on the other side of town (“no one should recognize us here,” Chance assures), they set up their maidbots in the machine. “Ok, so I will make a copy of this maidbot to become you, and you make the other maidbot a copy for me.” Joel frowns, “Why do I have to be the red head? I wanna be blonde.” Joel makes the obvious observation that the maidbots are not exactly the same. Looking at their outfits, they both wear the standard latex maid uniforms: black microskirt, black corset, elbow-length gloves, knee-length stockings, neck-covering choker, 3-inch heels, and hair pull back. Each of the items have a white latex edge that looks frilly, but it is not. Each with hourglass figures, large chests, wide hips, and long legs, makes them every guy’s fantasy come true. The difference between them is their heads. One has blonde hair just past her shoulders with wide, beautiful face, and the other has red hair that bobs above her shoulders with a more narrow, gorgeous face. Chance rolls his eyes and consents, “Fine! Trade me for the blonde…” They swap maidbots clumsily, stepping closer to the Venn machine. Several people have already gone through, so they are just waiting for their moment to step in. Joel looks around as they wait, “Where’s your girlfriend? We are next!” Noticing the slight panic in his voice, Chance replies coolly, “Don’t worry, she will be here soon. And even if she isn’t, we can find a place to hang around afterwards. We might look like maidbots then, but it is not like we have to do what people say.” They both laugh at that thought. As they step up to the machine with their respective robots, Chance gets a text from his girlfriend. Relaying the message, he tells Joel, “They are finding a parking space then coming in, so we are good to go!” And with that, they step into the Venn machine. Now Chance has been researching this, knowing that you cannot just make a perfect maidbot from a Venn. Evidently, the Venn circuitry will not interface properly with actual circuitry. The work around is to use real circuitry with Venn circuitry to sort of “trick” the technological world into believing a Venn robot is an actual robot. Chance knew that a Venn robot would not be good enough to fool the security systems of their home, or the dozen other security systems installed in stores and public buildings (you would be surprised how many have tried to pretend to be a robot and get away with it). So, Chance thinks he has a way to make it work, by taking the maidbots in with them, they can copy the basic systems onto each other and hope that the proximity of them during the transformation will “reboot” the system, fooling itself into thinking that Chance and Joel are actual maidbots. He had tried to explain it to Joel, but his eyes kept glazing over. “Man,” Joel would say, “Just tell it is safe and we won’t get caught, and I’m fine.” Chance is assured by the Venn manuals (and lots of people on the Internet) that this will be perfectly safe. They will live the lives of maidbots for a week, then be turned back into their original human forms without any consequences. Still, Chance admits only to himself as they stand ready to step in, I’m a little nervous. At the point of no return, they step in and enter all the proper sequences of buttons, as stated by the Venn forums online. With it all ready, the machine does its thing, flashes some lights, makes some hissing noises, and out the other side steps two newly-made maidbots, each carrying a broken maidbot. The red headed maidbot looks down at herself and says in a monotone, “Amazing! I look just like a sexy maidbot.” The blonde haired maidbot after looking at herself then looks over at the red-headed maidbot, “You do…and so do I!” They can hear men whistling at them as they look each other over, touching places they probably should not be touching in public. Realizing this, the red-head says, “Let’s get over to the side.” Moving easily now, their new found strength in their Venn-robot bodies, they carry the other maidbots over near a closed store and prop them up against the glass. They chatter back and forth, until they both straighten up at the same time. “Hey,” one says flatly, “Do we need to register with the mall’s database?” The other replies flatly, “It says we need an update to comply. I don’t know…should we?” As they stand at attention discussing it, their girlfriends walk up. Chance has been dating Chloe for months, and she is everything he wants: sexy and more sexy. Her curves and hair and outfit and skin tone and… well, pretty much everything are amazing. She has jet black hair, light brown skin, enough chest to fill a hand but not overly so, and a bubble butt. He has not thought of marriage, but he has thought he wants to keep her around for as long as possible. Joel, on the other hand, is dating Chloe’s best friend: Kiera. To be honest, she is only dating Joel because she can spend more time with Chloe and Chance’s money. Now, do not judge her harshly, as she comes from an average family and her average looks are not going to snag a Chance. However, she has one thing that none of her friends have: the largest chest size of anybody in the state (literally, she won a state fair contest with them a few years back). So her average looks and body might be just that, but she is a nice person with plenty to show off the guys. Chloe walks up to Chance and Joel, still standing at attention, and says, “Hey Kiera, what do we have here? A couple of sexbots?” Chance tries to chuckle at that, but instead says, “Voice key confirmed: owner.” Over the noise, they do not hear him say it, as Kiera replies, “Oh girl, ya know it. Two latex robots to do whateva we want.” Joel tries to make a smart comment, but instead says, “Voice key confirmed: owner.” Since neither replied to their joke, Chloe says, “Oh right, they gotta keep up the act.” Nodding to each other, Kiera adds, “You need to do anything before we go?” Chance and Joel reply in unison, “Download updates and register with system?” Chloe and Kiera look at each other. “I don’t know,” they admit, “I mean, you did mention something about fooling the system, so… uh, yes… do that.” Chance and Joel feel something change inside them, like someone else was in their head. At first, it was like an intruder, but then they noticed quite quickly, they just became visitors in their own heads. “Well, if you two are done, grab the broken bots and lets go.” The red-head maidbot says, “Maidbot #172 running latest operating system. Compliant to Owner: Chloe.” Moving more mechanically than before, Maidbot #172 picks up the real maidbot and follows her. Kiera, noticing her boyfriend did not comply, says, “Same for you, sexybot. Grab that toaster and let’s go.” The blonde maidbot says, “Maidbot #173 running latest operating system. Compliant to Owner: Kiera.” And just like the other Venn-made robot, it grabs the broken maidbot and follows them to the car. The trip home is quiet, as the girls try to get the “boys” to break character. They pull into Chance’s mansion and have them go inside, leaving the broken maidbots in the car for delivery tomorrow morning. Once inside, the house questions about the new maidbots. “Home system, enter these two maidbots as rentals for the week. Maid #172 is to be called Bunny, while Maid #173 is to be called SpankMe.” Kiera and Chloe both laugh at the names, as they had worked them out already. Chance and Joel could feel their identities being closed off from them while in the house, as it told them they are now “Bunny” and “SpankMe”. They would roll their eyes if they could, but instead they state, “Compliant. Unit name change confirmed.” “Ok, then, get to work,” Chloe commands, “House, get these maidbots cleaning.” And as she ordered, since she was given temporary authority from Chance earlier that day, the house system sets the two new maidbots to work. Chance and Joel can only watch now as their maidbot bodies begin cleaning up the messes they had made as men. They take out garbage bag after garbage bag, they mop floors, clean windows, and dust furniture. Chloe and Kiera had been enjoying a nice chat and figure its time for dinner. “Bunny,” she yells, “Get that latex butt in here and bring me a sandwich!” Both ladies laugh at that. Kiera says the same, along with an added order of drinks, salads, and silverware. Both Bunny and SpankMe follow their new programming and begin making dinner for them. Chance watches himself cut carrots and tomatoes for the salad like a real chef. Joel sees himself make the best sandwich he has ever seen, except that he is not hungry or thirsty. “You know,” Chloe adds as the maidbots bring in the dinner, “I’m feeling exhausted from my day.” Chance reels at that, exhausted? But I have done all this work that you ordered me to. “I think you should feed me, Bunny… one bite at a time.” Kiera smiles and agrees, “Ooo, I like that sound of that.” And so the maidbots do just that, feeding the ladies their sandwiches and salads and drinks. Joel thinks to think it could not get any worse than this. “Hey, let’s watch a movie,” Chloe suggests, “There’s that love and romance movie on Hallmark at 9 tonight that Chance has never wanted to watch.” Kiera nods her head, “I’m sure Joel has never seen it either.” Smiling outwardly as all maidbots should, Chance and Joel scream internally: nooooooooo! Ordering them to sit and watch, the four ladies lounge on the large couch in the giant living room containing the wall-sized TV and watch 2 hours of romantic drama. Chloe and Kiera tear up from the movie, while Chance and Joel would like to scratch their eyes out, but they cannot stop watching the movie (in fact, they can’t even blink to miss even a fraction of a second). After its over, Chloe and Kiera send the maidbots to their charging pods, while they leave. “Ok, meet back here in the morning, so we can get them started on their day. Then, we can go to the Venn machine before dropping off the real robots.” Kiera asks, “But why are we changing into the guys so early in the week? His parents don’t come back until Friday, right?” Chloe waits until the maidbots are out of the room to answer, “Yeah, but my last class I care about for the week is done, so I’m gonna spend the week as Chance. I figure you are skipping classes all week anyway, so you would want to try out being Joel.” Kiera finds the whole Venn thing creepy and would not do it, except for her friendship with Chloe. “Oh, uh, yeah, right, I’m in,” she agrees finally. The next morning, Chloe and Kiera order Bunny and SpankMe out of their pods and into the house to continue their work. Bunny and SpankMe do just as ordered with no complaints or hesitations. “Wow, these guys are really pretending well,” Chloe mutters. They hop in Chance’s SUV with the real robots and head to the Venn machine. By lunch time, the new Chance and Joel walk back to the car. “Woah,” Chloe, who is now Chance, remarks, “This is really weird and cool at the same time.” Kiera, still staring down at her flat chest and slight pudge stomach, adds, “Yeah, this is like something out of a horror flick.” As they walk, they have to keep telling themselves not to swing their hips so much, and stop adjusting their underwear. Chloe thinks to herself, I would like to box whoever came up with boxers. They drive over to the robot shop and get the maidbots out. The clerk is an android, so it processes their request and verifies Chance’s drivers license. Checking all the boxes, “Chance” and “Joel” leave without issue. “No one suspects us,” Kiera states surprisingly. Chloe replies, “And why should they? I’m guy, and so are you!” Giggling more girl-than-guy like, they hop back in the car to head home to check on the maidbots. As Chloe-Chance walks in the door, Bunny and SpankMe stop cleaning the floors to walk over to him. They kneel down in front of him and say in unison, “Oh Master, keeper of our hearts, thank you for coming home to command us!” Both of the guys nearly fall over in laughter. They cannot believe Chance has the maidbots do that everytime he comes home. To test it, they step back outside, count to ten, and come back in the front door. The maidbots, who had just stood up, kneel down and repeat their mantra. “Oh, he ain’t never livin’ this one down!” The next couple of days go by smoothly, as Bunny and SpankMe clean and clean and clean. Chloe-Chance and Kiera-Joel spend their days swimming and cruising in cars and hanging out and eating whatever they want (the Venn machine shouldn’t be keeping track of calories, Kiera reasons, right?) …it is like their best vacation ever! The only hiccup was Wednesday night. Chloe-Chance and Kiera-Joel were enjoying some beers in the pool room (it’s what guys do when women aren’t around, Chloe tried to explain to Kiera why they were doing this), while SpankMe was cleaning the leather couch. The maidbot was bent completely over as it cleaned the couch’s lower surfaces. “Uh, hey, Chance,” Kiera-Joel asks, practicing using their fake names, “I feel a little funny watching SpankMe there.” Chloe-Chance walks over with the cue stick and watches SpankMe’s butt shake as it cleans the couch. “Woah, I feel it, too… like a pressure below my belt and a skip in my heartbeat.” They both stand mesmerized as SpankMe shimmies her latex-covered butt, unaware of what they are talking about. “You don’t think we are… uh, you know,” Kiera-Joel asks uncertainly. Tearing his eyes away, Chloe-Chance says with a snicker, “Well, you got something trying to grow out of your boxers.” Kiera-Joel looks down in time to see his unit pop out of his boxers. He squeals uncontrollably, experiencing this for the first time as a man. His reaction causes SpankMe to stand up, turn around, and walk towards him. The maidbot squeaks slightly with each walk, making his unit jump even more. Kiera-Joel mumbles something but cannot get over what his body is doing now. SpankMe kneels down in front of him and asks, “Master, need I relieve you of your package?” Kiera-Joel can only say, “What?!” SpankMe repeats the question and opens its mouth. Chloe-Chance realizes what it is doing and says, “I bet that perv Chance has them programmed to do this whenever he gets a hard on, and since you got one, the house system is just doing its thing.” Kiera-Joel states, “I realize that I have done this plenty, and Joel has felt it plenty more, but I’m not sure I want it from him… or anyone. I mean, I’m not really a guy here.” Chloe-Chance looks down and then back up, “I don’t know about that. You look like a guy.” Kiera-Joel is conflicted and in that fear, the moment passes and he relaxes. In fact, with the sexual stimulation gone, he relaxes back into his boxers. This causes SpankMe to get up and resume cleaning. Kiera-Joel murmurs, “That was close,” and Chloe-Chance adds, “And really weird.” Friday finally comes, and Chloe-Chance calls Chance’s parents. He asks if he needs to pick them up at the airport. He can hear murmuring in the background, but then his mom says, “Sure, dear, that would be just lovely.” So, Chloe-Chance drives his freshly cleaned SUV (thanks, Bunny, for scrubbing every surface with a soft toothbrush) to the airport to get “his” parents. Kiera-Joel had to handle a personal situation at her apartment, but he will be around later. Chloe-Chance has been enjoying the new strength, as he is able to easily lift up the suitcases for each of “his” parents. He gets them in the car and back home with little to no conversation. He tries to make small talk, but they seem preoccupied, so he leaves it alone. Back at the house, he again easily unloads the suitcases and gets them in the front door. The maidbots walk up and greet their owners as normal. Chance’s mom hugs him and gives him a kiss on the cheek whispering, “So proud of you, son.” As they pull apart, his mom follows Bunny up the stairs to unload their suitcases, not realizing her real son is actually in front of her. Chance’s dad turns back to him and states, “I was sure you had screwed up again, boy.” Chloe-Chance makes a shocked expression, as “his” dad continues. “I figure you wanted to pick us up to get on our good side since you left the house in a wreck, but I can see from here: the house is clean and the bots are working fine.” Chloe-Chance breathes a sigh of relief, as he adds, “I even checked the house system logs already, so I know you have been keeping the place in good shape since we have been gone.” Chloe-Chance can only smile as “his” dad claps him on the shoulder and walks to the bar, ordering SpankMe to make him a drink. Whew, Chloe-Chance thinks with a grin, we might actually pull this off. At dinner, his parents discuss their vacation off-handedly, but then ask a question that sets the conversation down a different road. “So, Chance,” his mom starts, “Where’s your latest girl friend?” Chloe-Chance notices the tone in her voice and does not like it, but he cannot let up on his ruse. “Uh, she had to take care of something tonight for school,” he says weakly. “School?” his dad says with a frown, “I thought you said she doesn’t care about school. I mean, she is just dating you for the money.” Chloe-Chance had to really bite her tongue on that one, fighting back an emotional tear. How dare they say that to me? “Well, I’m sure she enjoys the way I spoil her, but…” he does not finish as his mom cuts in. ...

story continued from Part 1: Saturdays were Maid for Me Here is my sequel to “Saturdays were Maid for Me” (better read that one first). I had written quite a bit before I had to take a break from my online life. I had some time between shifts this weekend, and thought to myself, “I could finish this off”…so, I did. I was headed in a different direction (I think), but I cannot quite remember where I was headed. The original was supposed to stop in the mall scene, but somehow I wrote past that point one night, so that when I returned this last time, I was committed to keep going. lol, enjoy! ...

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = A submissive caterpillar becomes an assertive butterfly. This is a very short chapter, but it did not fit with the previous chapter nor with the next. This is primarily a transition chapter and does not have much in the way of actual sex. It stands on its own, but makes a little more sense if you have read the previous chapters. ...

story continued from part two Part Three Chapter 4 Amy walked out of the bathroom, her wet hair held up in a ponytail behind her model face. Her model legs looked longer than ever in the short white negligee. The once professional brunette had composed herself a little, but the crotch chain was still sending waves of pleasure through her, pleasure that she was totally unable to stop. Sarah opened the second bottle of wine and poured two large glasses and took them to the table. With very few inhibitions left, Sarah peered closely into Amy’s classically attractive brown eyes. They were wide and dilated and seemed to have a loving and devoted look that she’d never experienced from a guy. “How’s the chain?” “She’s fine, thanks.” Amy replied as she again touched herself and sighed with pleasure. Amy’s legs were fidgeting madly in an attempt to reduce the stimulation on her clit and the short negligee did little to hide the silver chain that was now glimmering from the moisture in Amy’s damp crotch. “Maybe I’m a little jealous of that chain.” Sarah smiled. “Maybe you and her should swap places.” “Maybe…” Amy looked up to see Sarah running her tongue across her lips. “You know you keep referring to the chain as a ‘her’.” Sarah observed. “Do I?” Amy fell to her knees and climaxed again before lying down on the white rug in the middle of the living room. Her eyes were closed and her long brown hair fanned out all around. She soon realised her mistake, though, as Sarah walked over and stood on Amy’s hair, with one high heeled shoe on either side of her head. Amy looked up into the darkest recesses of Sarah’s dress and sighed. “Well, if you will lie on the floor beneath me,..” Sarah smiled. Amy tried to pull her hair out from beneath Sarah’s shoes, but was soon distracted as she admired the elegant black high heels. The straps circled Sarah’s ankles twice, reaching halfway up Sarah’s calves before being secured by silver buckles. She would have to borrow these. “Need some scissors honey?” Sarah teased. Amy remembered where she was and struggled again to get free. But again she stopped and touched the leather that smelt so sexy at such close quarters. While still standing on Amy’s hair, Sarah picked up the chastity belt. “Deal?” She asked as she held the belt in one hand and her keys in the other. Amy nodded. Sarah crouched down above Amy’s face with her dress forming a small tent around Amy’s head. In this position, Sarah reached forward and unlocked the chain around Amy’s tiny waist and pulled it clear from her crotch. Amy then lifted her hips so that Sarah could slide the chastity belt around her waist. Amy had always felt the need to control situations and whenever possible used her looks and her position to intimidate people. But with Sarah that wasn’t possible. Sarah was equally attractive and her professional position meant nothing while she was locked inside Sarah’s apartment. Sarah was leading her into a whole new world and being subservient to her felt wonderful. Amy felt the cool steel of the chastity belt around her waist and then up between her legs. She felt it pull tight around her and finally lock into place. Sarah walked over and sat on one of the kitchen stools and sipped her wine. Amy smiled slightly self consciously as she followed and hopped up on to the other bar stool. “I can’t believe what we’re doing.” Amy breathed “You like it?” “Fuck yeah”. “You know you’re still my prisoner.” Just the look in Sarah’s eyes was more than enough to enslave Amy, but Amy remained hopeful that Sarah would take no chances with her captive. “You want me to handcuff you again don’t you?” “No!” Amy was a little cross that Sarah could read her so easily. “Look at your hands.” Amy looked down and saw that she had subconsciously positioned her hands with her wrists together. Embarrassed, she quickly moved them apart. Sarah smiled at her guest’s reaction and led Amy back over to her bed and handcuffed her hands behind her back. “Now you have no way to protect those beautiful lips.” Sarah purred. She moved closer to Amy’s slim face with its high cheek bones and slightly upturned nose. Amy’s lips were already slightly parted and glistened from red lip gloss. To Sarah, passionately kissing Amy on the lips seemed more intimate and more taboo, than kissing her clit. Down between her legs things could be anonymous. Kissing on the lips was personal. She was looking into Amy’s big dark eyes and therefore into her soul. She was kissing a real person, a real woman. Amy was also a woman who was helplessly chained up and who both physically and mentally had no possible hope of escaping from Sarah that night. Their lips touched and Sarah slipped her tongue in a little further. The feeling made them both jump. They started again and this time both tongues began to explore. With their inhibitions fully breached, they kissed passionately for next ten minutes. Amy’s hands were being squeezed beneath her own butt and the ratchets of the cuffs had tightened further and yet she barely noticed. Sarah’s lips then started to work their way down Amy’s body, her neck and then her breasts. Amy’s pert nipples were very erect and Sarah enjoyed slipping them in and out of her mouth. She continued down to Amy’s waist and then hit the steel of the chastity belt and placed her face against the steel. The steel was now as warm as the contents locked inside. “Unlock me please!” Amy panted. “It’s all about you.” Sarah joked. “What?” “Why isn’t your head inside my dress?” “What?” “That’s what I want!” Amy showed amazing agility for someone in tight handcuffs and with seconds she was inside Sarah’s dress and her mouth had even breached Sarah’s black panties. “I knew I liked you.” Sarah smiled as she pulled her dress down so that it fully enclosed Amy’s head. “If only I had a needle and cotton.” Sarah purred as she rolled on to her back and opened her legs. “Huh?” Amy’s eyes peeked out from inside the dress. “Then I could sew up my dress with you inside.” Amy looked out again and smiled. “Then there’d be no more peeking!” Sarah laughed as she flicked her dress back over Amy’s face. It was now midnight and both women were drunk, spent and exhausted. Having a cute brunette who would go down on her to order was almost too good to be true. Sarah knew that she needed some time out if they were to make it through the night. But timeout seemed impossible with her new toy. Plus she had another little dominant fantasy that she just had to try. Amy still had her head between Sarah’s legs and was watching the goose bumps as she ran her lips around Sarah’s crotch. She knew that she had no control over what happened next and was enjoying an almost childlike lack of responsibility. Unable to take any more stimulation, Sarah released Amy’s head and pulled away. She returned a few seconds later with a large hard shelled suitcase. “Time out, babe.” Sarah said as she pulled open the large lid. As usual Amy didn’t object and instead eased herself off the bed and down on to the floor where she sat obediently by Sarah’s feet. “You won’t fit inside with your hands cuffed behind you.” Sarah thought out loud. “I’ll have to take them off.” “I might escape.” “Amy. You won’t.” “You never know…” They watched each other intently for a few moments enjoying the challenge. Sarah then knelt down with her legs apart as she thought through what would be the most inescapable way to do this. “Your head between my legs!” Sarah announced. Amy edged further towards where Sarah’s was kneeling, but she was out to tease her captor and with her head only part of the way through, stopped and kissed Sarah’s thighs. “All the way inside sweetheart!” “Or what?” “Or the cuffs don’t come off.” Amy slowly complied and was soon kissing the back of Sarah’s open thighs. Then without warning, Sarah snapped her thighs together around her neck. Amy took a quick intake of breath and then laughed. Sarah leaned forward and examined the cuffs that she had locked tightly around Amy’s ever so slim wrists. The heavy steel was infinitely stronger than the delicate bones that they encircled and had inevitably started to rub against Amy’s smooth skin. The restraints forced Amy’s perfectly balanced figure into an awkward position, completely immobilising her arms. Yet Amy had delighted in being locked up and at that moment would have happily worn the cuffs forever. Sarah slipped the key into one cuff, before rolling Amy over on to her side and re-cuffing her wrists in front. It took less than ten seconds during which time Amy had struggled to get her head free, only to find that Sarah’s thighs held her even more tightly. “Was that my chance?” Amy panted. “Yep and now you have another thing to contend with.” Sarah was still kneeling with Amy’s neck still between her thighs. With Amy lying on her back, Sarah started to sit back on her haunches. Little by little building the pressure. “Have you’ve seen what those car crushers can do.” Sarah smiled as she went down further. Amy was laughing madly as she tried to stop her head going the same way. It didn’t work and her head was soon crunched between Sarah’s legs and butt. Every muscle in Sarah’s lower body was now tensing with the same objective. Sarah reached forward and ran her nails around Amy’s waist. Amy shrieked with laughter and, still unable to see, tried desperately to stop Sarah’s teasing fingers. Amy was half laughing and half crying when Sarah finally released her. Amy climbed into the open suitcase and curled up on the blanket that Sarah had placed inside. “You locking me in here?” Amy asked excitedly. “Well I’m about to lock it up… so if you’re inside at the time.” “Can you come in with me?” “Don’t tempt me.” Amy seemed to be beyond making any rational decisions, with the alcohol and sexual excitement giving her a breathless, dazed look. She looked up at Sarah’s face and her greenish brown eyes which seemed to be constantly smiling. This woman was about to lock her up in a tiny space from where she would never be able to escape. If those big greenish brown eyes chose never to release her she would die in the case, but yet she wasn’t in the least bit scared. Sarah was now standing and from Amy viewpoint her long legs seemed to go up forever. Then one leg easily flipped closed the lid. Amy felt safe and snug inside, a feeling that became even stronger when she felt Sarah sit on the lid. She watched the zips move until they were touching each other and waiting eagerly for Sarah to padlock them together. She hoped she would. On top of the suitcase, Sarah took a four dial combination padlock and didn’t look as she reset the code to a new random number. She placed the padlock down on the lid, between her open legs and used her phone to take a photo of the combination. She then used an app to time delay the photo for an hour. This way she couldn’t see the photo until the time was up. Sarah was confident that there was enough ventilation, but was still slightly apprehensive as she threaded the padlock in place and spun the four dials between her fingers. Only a couple of turns, but she knew there was no way back. “Am I locked in?” Amy asked innocently, her fingers playing with the zip from the inside. Having checked that Amy was comfortable, Sarah took yet another shower. When she returned, her bedroom seemed very quiet with no sound coming from inside the suitcase. The combination padlock hung there innocently, unfortunately neither of the women knew the number. Now completely naked, Sarah knelt down and tried the lock. ‘Fuck’, she really wanted Amy again and she knelt down crossed legged with her legs open wide as she ran through some possible combinations. “Fuck!” She hit the combination lock with her hand, grabbed her phone and opened the time delay app. 46 minutes to go. Fuck! Sarah stood the suitcase up and sat on top with one leg either side. She sat with her vibrator in one hand and her phone in the other and waited. Inside the suitcase Amy could hear Sarah’s moans of pleasure and her own cuffed hands were desperately trying to achieve the same. Her fingertips pushed frantically under the edges of the steel plate that sealed her clit. She could almost reach. She listened and felt the suitcase shudder as Sarah climaxed again. The chastity belt had beaten her, but her imagination could still enjoy what she knew was happening just above. Finally the padlock combination flashed up on Sarah’s phone and within seconds Sarah was spinning the dials and seconds later the suitcase was open. Abstinence had only increased their feelings and they were kissing even before Amy had climbed out of the suitcase. With their tongues touching, Sarah felt for the chastity belt’s keyhole and slipped the key inside. During the next two hours they used the vibrator and their fingers and tongues on each other. Halfway through, Sarah had even unlocked Amy’s handcuffs, but only so they could enjoy each other in a certain intimate position. They were now lying with their arms around each other already almost asleep. Sarah playfully wrapped one of her legs around Amy’s body in a sleepy attempt to secure her. After all, she had promised that Amy’s would be her prisoner all night and it was only 4am. Her mind went back to something she’d seen at a party, an idea for which Sarah had her own twist. Completely naked, Sarah searched her kitchen for a small tube of superglue. When she returned, Amy was sitting on the edge of the bed with her un-cuffed hands held up in front of her. “I’m free!” She said in a blatant challenge to Sarah’s promise. “On your back girl!” Sarah replied as she pushed her down and sat stride her naked body. As always, Amy had kept her arms down by her sides so that they would be trapped beneath Sarah’s thighs as she sat astride her. Helpless pinned, Amy just giggled. Sarah pulled Amy’s long dark hair back into a ponytail before removing the top of the superglue. Amy’s big eyes watched her carefully. Their lovely brown colour and long lashes would soon be looking at only one thing. As always, Amy eyes showed complete trust. Very carefully, Sarah placed two small drops of glue on each side of Amy’s forehead and then two more on each of her cheeks. After screwing the lid back on tightly, Sarah lay down on her front on the bed. “Now put your face in here.” Sarah instructed as she tapped her naked butt. “Won’t we get stuck together?” “Maybe.” Amy thought back to when they first met in the gym, even back then she had been obsessed with Sarah’s strong fit body and that certainly included her pert round butt. She was no longer tired and again giggling like a schoolgirl at the prospect of what would happen next. She positioned herself carefully and pushed her face into the lower part of Sarah’s butt. Her nose was deep between Sarah’s cheeks and her long lashes brushed against Sarah’s skin with every blink. “How long will it take?” Amy asked. “Oh, it’s already done.” Sarah was as tired as she’d ever been. She lay motionless on her side enjoying Amy’s touch and the way Amy was worshipping her butt. The best part was that there no need to wake early in the morning, Amy would still be down there worshipping her when she woke. The brunette had no choice about that. Only when Sarah was ready would they shower while still bonded together. A long shower followed by patient use of nail polish remover. With any luck they might be unstuck by lunchtime. Amy’s muffled giggling filtered out from deep inside Sarah’s butt. She carefully tried to pull away but the glue had long since bonded their skin together. Her face and Sarah’s butt were now one. Amy knew that Sarah was already asleep from the small twitches that ran through Sarah’s body. Sarah gently broke wind, the force of which Amy could feel against her face. Even that smelt sweet. ‘I’m bi-sexual’ Amy whispered proudly, her words fittingly muffled by Sarah’s butt. Amy pushed both of her hands between Sarah’s closed thighs and as she did, Sarah’s thighs seemed to tighten around them. Perfect, they would be her handcuffs tonight. ...

I wasn’t supposed to get in this deep, and certainly not this fast. I was supposed to get acquainted, get to know them, get to work with them, but it’s all about improvising. You get an opening, you take it. He came on to me, hard. I was worried about poisoning the well if I said no, so I said yes. It was a way in at any rate. But then.. It wasn’t even that bad. I expected to have to fake interest a lot more than I did. We actually had chemistry. So when he first took me back to his place, it was so routine, so natural. I didn’t even think about how sleeping with him might jeopardize the case down the line until hours later. If he wern’t in this family, if he wern’t in this line of work, he’s the kind of person that I could tie myself to. He gets me, or at least the me I’m showing him, which is frankly just me without some of the badge-inspired uprightness. I was expecting the son of a mob boss who went to the gym every day to not be so sharp, quick or funny. He wasn’t smooth like a pickup artist, he simply pressed and had a quick line to reply to whatever reaction he go. So that first time I went up to his place, that was all autopilot. What made me decide to return, aside from not wanting to end this particular identity that took weeks to establish, well that was the result of what happened that first night. ...

The company had been making personal robots for over twenty years, Susan had been working there for about two years ever since she graduated high school. Will had hired her and helped her learn the company so she had moved up and was now his administrative assistant who secretly loved him. Susan spent almost every night bound tightly to her bed with the large gag filling her mouth and the leather hood sealed tight around her head keeping her blind and deaf while she fantasized the large vibrating cock strapped deep in her pussy was his. When Will introduced his fiancé to her she was crushed and immediately knew she had to get rid of the woman developing a plan in her head. ...

Working in the office as the accounts/administrator, but I also specialise in the special order dolls and getting their clothes online or via fetish wear suppliers, I then dress them and prepare them in a separate area of the factory away from the main floor where the general dolls are made. The special orders are made by one of our master craftsmen and then placed in the side room ready for me to assemble the order that the customer has requested. ...

(story continues from Oops Wrong Bin) story continued from part one Part Two Maybe I could convince my beautiful neighbour to just dump her garbage for good, the signs are there for sure. I just need to push things along gently I thought to myself. Hopefully soon she’ll allow me to join in with his trashing then I’ll be able to guage how to complete my plan. I knew Lisa would be trashing him again soon so I decided to help her slightly with trashy pleasures for Stu. Lisa had mentioned her displeasure when she could still see him in the bottom of the industrial strength garbage sacks. So I emptied my fridge early in the week just to ensure everything I bagged was foul smelling and going bad. The weather was still warm it would heat up nicely in the large outside in the sun. ...

It was my own fault, I sent the key to an ex-girlfriend, who am still good friends with. She called me up, thanked me for the card and asked what the key was for as I had asked her to call me when it arrived and to hold onto it for a few weeks. I said I didn’t want to tell her over the phone but could I come down and show her. She said I have to tell her first, so I said a chastity device. She asked if it was on, I said no I was waiting to confirm she had the key. She said I should have asked first and she was going to throw both keys away. I was glad that I hadn’t put it on but sad with her response. ...

Introduction At 24 years old Cleo was already an accomplished thief. From her humble beginnings shoplifting at the tender age of 10 years old to her time as a teenager pick-pocketing people through her current profession of a cat burglar, she’s had a knack for relieving other people of their belongings. Besides having an incredibly light touch the biggest key to her success was she never rushed a job. She meticulously planned every heist and only executed it when the timing was right, because of this attention to detail and patience she had never been discovered let alone caught. ...

Gromet says: Would love to be Sierra/maid… “I want the maids in the house,” I remember telling my husband. Sean had again been flirting with them, and even though he knew I would throw a fit, he still asked if we should get rid of them. “They keep this giant mansion clean, because I know I don’t want to do it.” He agreed, apologized for groping the android maid, and then made me sing 3 times in bed that night as an “I’m sorry, Sierra.” I was still kind of mad, but not really. ...

Gromet says: Would love to be Sierra/maid… “I want the maids in the house,” I remember telling my husband. Sean had again been flirting with them, and even though he knew I would throw a fit, he still asked if we should get rid of them. “They keep this giant mansion clean, because I know I don’t want to do it.” He agreed, apologized for groping the android maid, and then made me sing 3 times in bed that night as an “I’m sorry, Sierra.” I was still kind of mad, but not really. ...

Tired to numbness and buzzed from too many shots, Kim walked out of the bar and onto the streets of the city. The sunlight flickered then went out, plunging the city into the eerie twilight of neon and streetlights. She decided to take the long way home, the new way she’d found while looking for a new Chinese restaurant. The old Red Light district was now safe territory thanks to urban renewal. Mom wouldn’t approve, but Kim was too tired to worry about it. Besides, she had her mace. ...

Tired to numbness and buzzed from too many shots, Kim walked out of the bar and onto the streets of the city. The sunlight flickered then went out, plunging the city into the eerie twilight of neon and streetlights. She decided to take the long way home, the new way she’d found while looking for a new Chinese restaurant. The old Red Light district was now safe territory thanks to urban renewal. Mom wouldn’t approve, but Kim was too tired to worry about it. Besides, she had her mace. ...

This is a story of how I really tricked myself and not my boyfriend. I, Lisa knew my boyfriend, Brad had a latex fetish. I had checked out his phone history one day to find all this out. Oh yes, he had it bad. Latex clothing sites, latex porn sites, you name it. He had gone on a two day business trip to New Orleans, so I had time to look around in his closet. Well, it didn’t take long to find his stash of fetish clothing. Catsuits, hoods, gloves, goggles, the whole deal. ...

This is a story of how I really tricked myself and not my boyfriend. I, Lisa knew my boyfriend, Brad had a latex fetish. I had checked out his phone history one day to find all this out. Oh yes, he had it bad. Latex clothing sites, latex porn sites, you name it. He had gone on a two day business trip to New Orleans, so I had time to look around in his closet. Well, it didn’t take long to find his stash of fetish clothing. Catsuits, hoods, gloves, goggles, the whole deal. ...

Light gusts of wind lifted my skirt slightly as we walked uptown on Fifth Avenue alongside Central Park and while this would normally not be a problem I wasn’t able to simply use my hands to keep it down as they were tied together in front of me. My submissive, Marge, had convinced me to switch for the day and after I was dressed she put my hands through the pockets that she had cut out of the jacket she put on me and tied my wrists about six inches apart so that they were unseen under the jacket and with the jacket’s zipper closed no one was able to see my bondage and while this was bad enough she had also selected the short flared skirt I wore which allowed my stockings and garter belt to be seen whenever the wind gusted too much and there was nothing I could do about it but blush and pray she would not keep me walking too long. ...

story continues from Part Two Part 3: Ankhesenamun’s Slave Kendell glanced around herself despondently. Only yesterday, she’d rushed into this apartment. She’d been trying to save Gina, her friend, from the curse of Ankhesenamun, an ancient Egyptian priestess. Instead, she’d found Gina’s body already possessed by Ankhesenamun spirit. She, herself, had quickly found herself enslaved by Ankhesenamun’s powers, unable to refuse any command, including the latest one, to remain in this apartment until Ankhesenamun’s return. ...

(story continues from The Chaperone’s Apprentice 3) Part 4 Cecilia was on the train, Premier Business Class, pretending to be Xara for the benefit of any paparazzi that might have been looking – it was important that everyone should think that she had, indeed, checked out of the hȏtel that morning. Looking out of the carriage window she thought how dull the scenery of that part of northern France was; so unlike further south. For a time the train ran alongside the A1 motorway; its driver seemingly taking a perverse pleasure in going at least twice as fast as the cars on the road and rapidly disappearing into the distance. Soon they were in the tunnel under the English Channel then out into the Kent countryside for the final run up to London. ...

This story is a result of Jon, who commented on one of my fiction stories and asked me how I became a latex / PVC fetish. My story, with respect to my love of latex and PVC, begins about 20 something years ago. Whilst at uni a group of us girls, especially Edith my best friend, would get together at weekends for parties and good times with the boys. One particular party at one of the girl’s parent’s place we decided to make it a sort of ‘theme party’ the theme being the ‘swinging sixties’. Edith and I found a couple of outfits in a party hire shop consisting of dresses, boots, hand bags and hats. My dress was an orange and yellow zig zag affair, short sleeves with a calf length hem line, the boots were white leather (a little worse for wear I seem to remember) as was the hand bag. A pill box hat in orange finished off the ensemble, I certainly looked like I had just walked out of the 60’s. ...

Chapter 1: Test flight. Sometimes there are times when techster regrets the fact that his wife, lover, playmate, and keyholder is a mechanical design engineer. Today would be no exception. Techster is always working on upgrades for the subterranean dungeon that he furnished for a DS couple, who like Techster, are using their BDSM business to keep them financially solvent. Today he was under pressure to come up with a tech, yet simple, device to terrorize the clients. ...

continued from part 5 Part 6: Revenge I had spent Sunday night in tight self imposed bondage mummified in the Sleepsack. It was sensual to be held in that tight embrace and exciting to know I may not be able to escape. Yes I know that’s not true. I had the box cutter the right way round this time so I could have cut my way out. However it felt like I could not escape. ...

Brittany frowned as she eyed her newest acquisition. Looking like a cross between a wine bottle and a vase, the long neck vessel had recently been unearthed at a dig sponsored by the local university. Deemed of no real historical value, the bottle, along with other more-or-less worthless items, had been sold by the university in it’s never-ending quest for more money. And Brittany, incurable bargain hunter, had been unable to resist this latest purchase. ...

(story continues from Still Life 3 - Mistaken Identities) Part Four - Les Yeux Sans Visage (The Eyes Without Face) I rolled out of bed, shaking my hair out of my face. Darrin leaned over and propped himself up on his elbow. “Going already?” “It’s ten ’till eleven,” I said. I turned and smiled. “You know I turn into a pumpkin at eleven PM.” As I walked across the large bedroom to the master bath I heard Darrin say, “Still, isn’t there anything I could do to get you to stay a little long?” ...

Annie woke up in not the best of moods. She wasn’t feeling well, and nothing she did seemed to help. And so, resigned to another long day, she slowly climbed out of bed. As she was sipping on her first cup of coffee, the doorbell rang. Gathering her robes around her, she opened the door. Outside stood a pair of husky delivery men. “Good morning, ma’am,” said one. “We’ve got a package here for you.” ...

PLATO asks Marcella to make him complete. PLATO is the most powerful computer ever… grown, but he knows that he is incomplete. He needs something else from Marcella, and once he has received it, he gives her… and Richard a gift they would never have dreamed of asking for. This story stands– more or less– on its own but might make more sense if you have read the previous chapters = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Marcella Henry was sitting at the PLATO’s night monitoring console. As usual, she was naked. Her legs were spread wide for the camera beneath her desk, and her hand was between her legs softly stroking her slit. Meanwhile, Richard – Doctor Mueller – was in the Growth Processing Room lying on one of the strange tables. At least that’s where his body was. His mind was standing in a green meadow having a complex discussion with Plato – PLATO’s anthropomorphic form which he can project into any reality created around Richard or Marcella. The discussion between Richard and Plato concerned ways of creating an Alternate Technology Organism to repair severely-damaged spinal columns without revealing that PLATO, himself, was truly sentient and growing more powerful by the day. ...

(story continues from Still Life 2 - Changing Parts)_ Part Three - Mistaken Identities I fell to my knees, nearly tumbling off the podium. It was late at night: all the shoppers were gone. I was thankful I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing or hearing me, ‘cause the moan that slipped out echoed throughout the store. I immediately sighed after I was finished moaning. My hope that only a couple of days would go by since Ronnie and I were “frozen” had turned into twelve days of display. I was sure Ronnie was still plastic, since she would have come looking for me had someone inadvertently changed her back to human. I was surprised to see that someone would say “Nora, real,” before they’d say “Rebecca, real.” Or some combination of people speaking thereof. ...

(story continues from The Chaperone’s Apprentice 2) Part 3 “Now that you have had your little practice adventure it is time for a proper one. As I am sure I have said before, the vulgar idea of the rȏle chaperone is incorrect. Original the chaperone was not so much intended to keep the young couple apart as to gently bring it together so that it did not bounce asunder again. We have such a task.” ...

Entry from the S(A)X Leather Bondage Story competition 2005 Beth had left the man bound and hooded, feeding him air through a narrow tube, for half an hour now. Glancing at the clock, she saw his session had overrun by five minutes, and expertly began to release him. The strange thing about this client was he never wanted to climax during their sessions. As a result, Beth always felt a little disconcerted by the end. She tried to hide it, of course – it wouldn’t do for one of the most popular dominatrices in the club she worked for to be seen to be uncertain. But there it was again: as he stood up, rubbed his wrists and reached for his clothes, there was a moment of connection between them when he caught her eye and seemed to reach her soul. ...