Toilet

story continued from part one Part 2 Friday morning, Ochsianna finds herself in the glossing booth. Holding up her hands, the nozzles give below her waist an even coat. A series of tiny blow dryers even it out, making her skin look smooth, unblemished, and glossy. As it moves to the next section, two suction cups are placed over her nipples, matching her skin tone. She is then glossed over, leaving her breasts looking like plastic mounds, nipple-less. Nearly done, she checks her nose plugs, before getting her arms and neck and head glossed. The booth door opens, revealing a moving, breathing mannequin. She carefully steps out to find Betsy waiting on her. “Ochs, got you a new assignment today.” Betsy stops to breathe, so Ochsianna can say, “Good morning to you too, Betsy.” Betsy says good morning then goes on, “One of the idiots over in transfers messed up, and now we got to cover her mistake.” Ochsianna would make a face, but hers is quite stiff at the moment. “As you know, the mall has several stores owned by our vice president and his son. Since they are connected, we share mannequins to them all, since we have the facilities.” Ochsianna was familiar with this, and had been “swapped” to another store for a day during a big sale or something. “Well,” Betsy continues, “the costume store on the other end needs another female, and evidently we promised them one, but we never actually told anyone.” Betsy says every ‘we’ with emphasis and sarcasm, leaving no doubt it was not her fault. “anyway, I need you to be at Clara’s Costumes for the day.” Ochsianna would protest, but it is hard to talk and it would do no good. Ah well, she thinks, at least it is Friday. The mall opens later than the department store, so her trip through the mall was uneventful. There were people around, but all workers trying to get the stores open for the day. She saw other humannequins being moved around from store to store, all naked like her. She arrives at Clara’s, as the mannemover stops just inside the door. Her costume shop is quite expansive, with costumes for all shapes and sizes. With Halloween coming, her store will get much business. And since she is Mr Baxter’s girlfriend (or maybe mistress), she gets whatever she wants. Ochsianna has no idea her pose or costume, so she waits on the mannemover, locked into it anyway. “Hey, Clara,” a female voice yells, “your mannequin is here.” Clara comes down the center aisle. She is wearing some type of witch’s outfit, complete with a hat. She is rather short, maybe a little overweight, but not unattractively so. Her blonde curly hair makes her look 10 years younger. She walks up to Ochsianna and runs her hand down her stiff arm. “Oh boy,” she squeals, “She is perfect.” Ochsianna really cannot dress herself once she had been glossed. Any large movements can crack the coating, damaging the whole reason behind it. Clara pulls out her cellphone, looking for something on it. Tapping the screen, the mannemover takes off again towards the center of the store. Ochsianna can see two other mannequins there, one on either side of an opening (probably for me). So to her left, there will be Dracula and to her right, Little Bo Peep. Hmmm, she ponders, I wonder what I will be. ...

Author’s Chapter Notes: I hope you all enjoy reading Banfields own account of his demise. This story was written by my friend BANFIELD who is unable to post this magical txt for us all to read so he has kindly asked if I could post this story on his behalf, all credit should therefore go to him. I trust the forum members will give praise to his vision as I myself already have. Amanda. ...

I’d never really been bullied, as far as I recall, there was nothing worth mentioning that went on at my high school. But, the idea of a group of hot girls humiliating me, giving me wedgies, making me touch things that were disgusting and generally treating me like trash had begun to take a hold on me over the years and now, at thirty, I wanted to experience it. I suppose I should put in the obligatory self-description here. I’m tall for a woman – 175cm and thin at only 60 kg. I have long legs, medium sized breasts and long wavy brown hair. I have an olive complexion too. My name is Maxine and in case you hadn’t worked it out yet, yes, I am attracted to women in a sexual way. ...

It was only my third night in this sleepy little town and I had already run bored with little new to do. I had only been to our Kansas office twice in the last five years for cursory check-ins but now this branch was falling apart and they sent me in for an extended stay to clean up the mess. The only place to stay within in a reasonable distance to the office was a second rate motel just outside of town. I had stayed here on my previous trips and it was certainly nothing extraordinary to write home about. Just a place to lay my head down each night with the sound of traffic buzzing on a busy street. It had been another day of pulling people into my temporary office for fact finding interviews and people assesment. The work was emotionally draining and I needed some deeper intellectual stimulation not related to my work. Most of the people in the office disliked me on account I was there to course correct their actions so I needed another outlet. Back in the room I flipped on the television and surfed the channels looking for anything of substance. Nothing captured my attention so I flipped it back off. There was a tavern a couple of blocks down I had seen, “Lucy’s” I think, so I decided to venture out in search of real people to engage with. It was a Wednesday night so as expected I was not overwhelmed when I opened the red door with “Lucy’s” in angled script painted in black on its face. Two men were playing pool and drinking beers under a single hanging bulb in the back of the room, a couple was sharing a plate of cheese deprived nachos in the front corner, an empty table with half a glass of white wine, an open book flipped upside down and a single pulled out chair was in the middle of the room and lastly a bearded biker with his head resting on his forearm and four empty shot glasses perfectly lined up in front of him was seated at the far end of the bar. A still full shot clutched in his right fist as he strummed his fingers on its side as if he were fighting the demons telling him just one more wouldn’t hurt. No one looked up as I entered. I pulled out the bar stool furthest from the biker drowning his sorrows and sat down. Not a likely candidate for intelligent conversation I thought. The bartender, a female with short dark hair medium build wearing a Lucy’s logo T-shirt, just like the front door, tied in a knot at her waist above the waistband of her jeans approached and said “Welcome to Lucy’s, stranger. What will you have?” Just as I opened my mouth to answer the man at the opposite end of the bar threw his head back and launched his waiting shot down his throat as he yelled “Arrrrgh”. He slammed his shot glass down on the bar in perfect succession with the other four and returned his head to his forearm and his now empty waiting fist to its former position as if the glass were still there. “Maybe you should take care of him first. Looks like he needs another and I don’t want to get in his way. " The bartender scoffed and told me that “Butch” would be fine as long as she had another shot in his waiting fist by the half hour mark as she pointed to the clock behind her head. Six was usually his limit on exact fifteen minute intervals. “OCD” she whispered with the back of her hand up to her cheek as if to sheild her whisper from his ears. “Bourbon on the rocks then. And I’ll try to pace myself so you don’t wind up with bookends at your bar keeping your remaining stools empty the rest of the night.” “Go wild sweetie! Don’t hold back on my account” she said as she added two bar straws to my drink and handed it to me. I took the drink and thanked her. I had noticed movement in the bar in my peripheral vision and rotated my stool around to again survey the place without much hope of finding anyone to talk to based on my initial surveyance. I brought my forward face to the television hanging in the corner switched to ESPN as to not be so obvious. A woman had returned from presumably the bathroom to the waiting wine glass and book at the empty table. Early forties, died red short bobbed hair with a highlighted streak, thin build and a nice smile. This I saw when she looked in my direction and saw that I was looking in hers as she sat. After I smiled back I casually brought my eyes back to todays sports highlights and duefully nursed my bourbon. The woman picked up her book and continued reading as she drank the rest of her wine between pages occasionally glancing towards the bar. What type of a woman goes to a bar to read I asked myself. “One that is looking to meet someone” I rhetorically answered. So I decided she was my best shot at any sort of intelligent conversation in this place. No one else had come in. I finished my drink and swiveled back to face the bar. The bartender had been directly behind me so I said “Maybe I will go wild. Another bourbon and a glass of Chardonnay please.” I got a surprised look from her but no response outside of a smirk and a nod. She served the drinks and I stood to approach the lone woman with drinks in hand. “Hi, mind if I join you with a hospitality offering?” “Oh! …please” she said. I sat, introduced myself and struck up conversation. A few minutes in and “Arrrrrrgh” from the bar and the sound of the shot glass slamming into the worn mahogany of the bar. I looked at my watch. Half past on the nose I noticed. The conversation was great and we were both laughing a lot. There was definitely chemistry happening between us. I had lost track of time but the man at the bar had not moved an inch and three others were now seated where I had been at the farther end, the nacho couple were now throwing darts and three new men were playing pool in the back and another three were seated at a table nearby. The bartender came over and stood next to Amy. “Hi Amy. Sounds like you guys are having a lot of fun over here? I’m on a break and was curious if I could get in on Mr. Bourbon’s hilarity for a bit? Does Mr. Bourbon have a name?” “Oh, hi Lucy.” said Amy as she looked up at her. “Sure, have a seat. Mr. Bourbon’s name is Christopher. Chris is in from Atlanta on a business trip and is staying at “The Shady Lady” for a month. He is going stir crazy and needs some intellectual release before he goes mad. He is very funny.” “Lucy, nice to officially meet you” I said as I stood and extended my hand for a shake. “I had no idea you were the name sake on the building?” ...

Part One I never knew I was into fetish, until I was looking for a job in the paper for the summer holiday. What I really wanted to do was to take a vacation, but I desperately needed some money. I had almost given up all hope when I spotted a small ad: “The perfect summer job for a young female!! Earn good money during summer selling adult toys in a small store. “ ...

Here is my fantasy, my idea, ( my desire???) my story, I hope you like… and… sorry for my bad english ( I am italian)… hope not too many mistakes, please let me know what you thought of my story. A normal day for slave Francesco, the alarm clock ring at 6.30am… as usual! Slave got out of bed went to the bathroom to shave and wash and do his needs. He wore a plastic chastity belt that allowed him to piss. He was naked with the exception of leather collar, and leather bracelets for wrists and ankles. ...

Although this is a non consensual story, it’s not in any way cruel or heavy. It’s based on a simple idea from slave Kandi (you know who you are) and not to be taken too seriously. Please feel free to comment or email to [email protected] Justine walked into the deserted country park, at least she hoped it was deserted, it was approaching dusk and any visitors should have left by now. She felt so exposed and didn’t want to meet any strangers, certainly not the kind who hung around parklands in the dark, and especially not the way she was dressed, or undressed would be more accurate; she wore just her sexiest underwear; matching light blue silk bra and panties, her thigh high stockings and four inch heels, Oh and a leather collar with a custom made tag. She really didn’t want to be there, she was scared and had no idea what was to happen, but she knew she had no choice but to follow the instructions that she had been given. ...

Men and Woman different in many ways, some obvious but others more subtle. Have you ever noticed anything unusual about women in general, for instance the way they look at you: studying you? Taking in your form your shape almost as if they are trying you out for size. Many times I’ve felt that a female mind is at work inside my head probing my brain studying my thoughts. Once finished she looks at you with an evil glint in her eye and you know that if it were possible you would be taken by her to be used for her pleasure. ...

. Men and Women are different in many ways, some obvious but others more subtle. Have you ever noticed anything unusual about women in general, for instance the way they look at you: studying you? Taking in your form, your shape almost as if they are trying you out for size. Many times I’ve felt that a female mind is at work inside my head probing my brain studying my thoughts. Once finished she looks at you with an evil glint in her eye and you know that if it were possible you would be taken by her to be used for her pleasure. We are the food for these predatory women luckily they are a minority and of course are unable to carry out their true desires with us. ...

Chapter 1 The day was dragging for Elenya and she could not keep her mind on her work. The computer screen in front of her could have been written in Swahili for all the attention she paid to it. Callers to the building were dispatched with unusually curt answers not the usual flirtatious banter she normally provided for the clients. The reason for her being so distracted was the forthcoming visit of her secret male friend. She could not call him lover, well not just yet. At twenty three she was still a virgin, something very uncommon in today’s sex and promiscuous world of young girls, but she was waiting for the right time, the right place and more importantly the right person. She thought he was the one. Last night her ‘about to be’ lover had taken her so close to the point where she would give herself to him, but he had kept her so close to an orgasm by skilfully using just his hands on her….. ...

It was going to be a dull, lonely journey back to London after the fun of the now recently departed weekend. A cold, empty flat and cold empty fridge were the only things beckoning me back home. It was late, very late and thus dark when I boarded the last train for Euston at windy Crewe station. No matter if it had been a hot sunny day there would always be a cold wind blowing through the station. That must be due to some kind of giant wind tunnel effect was my guess. As there were some weekend first stickers on the window of first class as it slowly slid past whilst I was waiting for the train to come to a halt, I decided to saunter towards the first class carriage. I couldn’t see any one in there so I jumped aboard and sat behind a small table with only single seats facing each other. Just before the train departed a woman entered the carriage from the carriage ahead of mine and took a seat diagonally opposite mine on the double seats, the full price first class seats. ...

(story continues from Mile High Club) Part 2: The New Toys For the next few weeks we had too many passengers and the layovers were too short for any real games like we played on that earlier flight (read “Mile High Club”). I made it back to my home base late at night. By the time I got home it was 3AM and I went right to bed. When I woke up it was noon so I decided to unpack. I was almost done when Jack came over and took me out for lunch. After a few hours he dropped me off at my dorm. When I got to my room I was really surprised to find out they had given me a roommate. I was in the room since I enlisted and this was my first one. ...

(story continues from Pit Pony 2) Part 3 They spent a restless night, but for the wrong reason. At dawn, Emily lay on the mattress ineffectually trying to dislodge the many ants crawling over her body, which was difficult without the use of her hands. Eventually, she sat up and struggled to her feet. Her movements woke John, who appeared impervious to the attention of the ants. “It’s no good,” she cried, “We’ll have to find a way of stopping them before tonight.” ...

(story continues from Pretenders) Chapter 2 Sunday evening, Cassie was shattered. Gabe been out of bondage all day, and he hadn’t let up on her. It had been one mad passionate pounding assault after another. She was a doll that had been picked up and shaken, her joints aching. Her ribs were murder. Her hips felt like they were coming apart. She couldn’t let him see how exhausted she was. If he saw through her acting he might feel guilty. It would ruin everything for him, and that wouldn’t be right or fair. ...