<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Virgin on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/virgin/</link><description>Recent content in Virgin on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 24 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/virgin/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>642, Mind Diary of a Judicial Slave</title><link>/stories/2026/01/24/642-mind-diary-of-a-judicial-slave/</link><pubDate>Sat, 24 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2026/01/24/642-mind-diary-of-a-judicial-slave/</guid><description>&lt;h3 id="chapter-two---first-night-as-a-sex-slave"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter Two -&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;First Night as a Sex Slave&lt;/strong&gt;*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;####&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cycle 4378, Day 138&lt;/em&gt;*&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Last night was wonderful in a very strange sort of way. Almost as soon as we started eating, Master pressed something on his wrist that looked like a very small watch and suddenly I felt&amp;hellip; empty. My mind diary was no longer recording my thoughts. I concentrated on the word “Status” in my mind and suddenly I could see the status display of my lifepack superimposed over the prawns I was dipping in the spicy sauce. It said, “Off Line” in flashing red letters.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Rogue One</title><link>/stories/2024/04/01/rogue-one/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Apr 2024 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2024/04/01/rogue-one/</guid><description>&lt;h3 id="chapter-one---the-brulaxians"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter One - The Brulaxians&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Incoming! Incoming!” the shrill voice of the communications tech for Earth Base Two Omega screamed loudly just before the auto-defense alarms began blaring, drowning out her screams.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Report!” barked the commander after silencing the alarm and the tech replied a little more calmly, “I’m reading an incoming ship traveling at light eighteen.” The communications tech’s bright blue eyes were wide with a mixture of surprise, amazement, and fear as she scanned her instruments.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Obsessed by Rubber</title><link>/stories/2022/04/15/obsessed-by-rubber/</link><pubDate>Fri, 15 Apr 2022 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2022/04/15/obsessed-by-rubber/</guid><description>&lt;h3 id="chapter-1-beginning-of-the-story"&gt;Chapter 1. Beginning of the Story&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Another boring online meeting was finally over. Linda switched off the webcam and closed her notebook, then leaned back in her chair. Deep in thought, she started to undo the buttons of her white office-style shirt, and another layer of her garments, hidden beneath cotton cloth, appeared. It was a black, skin-tight latex suit, without collar, with shortened legs and arms, specially designed by Linda to be worn under her office uniform. The wide, round neck cutout was not visible even with a few buttons undone, and nobody in the office could ever imagine what a secret such an unassuming young trainee would keep. However, being very cautious, she wore her suit to the office quite rarely, and was very happy when lockdowns caused everyone to work from home. This allowed her to put on her favorite clothing anytime she wanted to. After several months of lockdown, Linda was practically living in latex, taking it off only to wash, dry and put on again. Usually she enclosed herself totally, with hood and gloves, removing it for online conference calls, as she did today, and covering her upper body, visible on the webcam, with her office shirt.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>