Water on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Ye Olde Water Faire

Mon, 08 Feb 2021 00:00:00 +0000

Event 4: The Ferris Wheel

After I finished cleaning up, puta and I ran over to the Ferris Wheel so she could get tied on. She called it getting hooked up, but what they used was more or less standard restraints.

Naturally, she was the first slave there. She was practically bouncing up and down with expectation. You would think she was being given some great treat rather than being tied onto a wheel of pain. Well, having said that, I guess for puta they are the same thing.

Ye Olde Water Faire

Wed, 27 Jan 2021 00:00:00 +0000

Event 3: The Race

I was already entered in the swimming race, so all I had to do was show up and get a number. Since there were too many of us to assign one to each lane, they just painted a big number on our backs and told us to not drown each other.

There were about fifty or so of us in the race. At least, the highest number I saw was fifty-three. With that many in the pool turning around for the second half of the lap gets really interesting. Basically you have to take a really deep breath and then swim under water until you are clear of everyone coming toward you and you can come to the surface. Then you swim like hell until you reach the other end and do the same thing all over again.

A Water Illusion?

Sat, 20 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000

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 Living Statue

Sun, 09 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Malcolm came on stage at the beginning of the show and welcomed the audience and reminded them that this was going to be an adult show with adult content. He then went on to comment that the stage seemed a bit bare as there was just a plain back drop and no other scenery; to which end he invited a volunteer from the audience to help him magically decorate the stage.

Kidnapped Mistaken Identity 3

Thu, 08 Sep 2016 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Kidnapped Mistaken Identity 2)

Part Three

DAY 3

Previous story codes: FFF/m; D/s; captive; dungeon; bond; rubber; hood; catsuits; corset; nurse; maid; tease; torment; force; needles; sounds; cockcage; sendep; chairtie; bdsm; punish; cane; femdom; denial; mast; oral; climax; nc/reluct; XX

I slept soundly then “get up Cretin”; I was awakened with a start from a deep sleep by female voices and a shaking by them. Mistress R and Matron were here to collect me. Both were dressed as usual in themed fetish rubber. This time it was military garb from Mistress R who was wearing patent knee length boots an obscenely short skin tight mini-skirt, a tight buttoned military coat and a peaked cap all in glossy latex. Matron had on her transparent nurse outfit with a long black sinister medical rubber apron.

Rubber Ducky

Mon, 27 Jun 2016 00:00:00 +0000

Why do I do things like this to myself pondered Diane as she gazed down at the rubber ducky at the bottom of the 10 gallon trashcan? The answer to that was self evident. Diane was a pain slut who loved coming up with unique ways to torment herself.

She might have out done herself this time. The key to her self imposed bondage was the key that hung around rubber ducky’s neck on a string. It would be an easy thing to reach down and retrieve rubber ducky if she wasn’t so confined. Her wrists were held in place by manacles padlocked to rings on either side of her favorite chastity belt, the one with oversized vibrating plugs fore and aft.

Wet and Warm

Mon, 09 Nov 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Lindsey’s face, glistening with sweat, wore an expression of wild desperation. How could she have gotten herself into this situation? What had she been thinking??

The pretty young woman lay face-up on a padded table. Her beautiful long legs, held tightly in place by a number of straps, were spread wide. Her arms were stretched out behind her head, wrists cuffed together. A thick leather strap held her down at the waist. She was completely naked.

BBF 4: "The Discovery"

Tue, 19 May 2015 00:00:00 +0000

continued from part three

This was told to me by Vicky and Suzan. At the moment they are tied up so I will relate the story to you. The names have been changed to protect the kinky.

Part 4: “The Discovery”

I drove down to Suzan’s and stopped 100 feet from the house since I was early. I did not want to surprise her if she was not tied up. I slowly approached the fence and saw some balloons floating overhead. I thought that was sweet, she got some balloons for me. I peeked over the fence and to my amazement I saw Suzan spread eagle in front of the deck. Her ice timer had her locked in place till her release.

Accidentally Eaten

Sat, 16 May 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Bertrand looked up at the woman coming out of the shower. Her body, perfectly sculpted, radiated steam from the warm water. Her soft skin was tinted red from the heat of the shower. Steam filled the room and somewhat obscured the view of Robin. Still, she was strikingly beautiful. She stepped out of the shower, water still streaming off of her in what amounted to tiny rivers to the four men looking on, and grabbed a towel high above them.

Fifty Litres

Tue, 30 Dec 2014 00:00:00 +0000

I found the heavy duty white nylon container at an auction; it was approx. 50 litres 2ft in diameter and probably 3ft deep with two handles built into it on the top. On seeing it my thoughts instantly turned to self-bondage applications. At the bottom was a nylon tap. I waited impatiently at the auction for the container to come round; it went for only a few pounds, I paid for it and rushed it home.

Convoluted Knots

Tue, 02 Dec 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Luke was unlike most of his fellow college students. While he studied hard, he also needed his time outdoors, and doing sports. He particularly enjoyed sailing, and rock climbing, and it was not easy to find a college where he could practice both, but he did.

One day Luke got a visit from his dorm buddy Mike. But Mike seemed embarrassed. “Luke, I need to ask you something, but I can’t tell you why. With all that sailing and climbing you do, you must be pretty good with knots, right? Do you think you could teach me how to tie a couple of proper knots?”

Washing Machine 2

Thu, 10 Apr 2014 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Washing Machine)

My girlfriend, Ann, said, “If I’m going to treat you like laundry, that means you will go into the washing machine whenever I say you do and you won’t come out until I am finished with the wash and decide you’re clean. It means you will be washed with the rest of the load, hot or cold, whites or permanent press, normal or delicates. You will be washed with detergent and rinsed with fabric softener. If I have four loads to wash you will be in the washer four times, once for each load. If this is what you agree to, there is no going back…ok?” The choice was obvious and with that she brought her basket of dirty clothes over to the washer and casually threw them into the machine with me. I was starting to get some second thoughts and was just about to get out when she reached into the machine with a large two cup container of Tide. I said, “That’s way too much detergent,” as I started to get out.

Riding Lessons 2

Sun, 19 Jan 2014 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part one

Part 2

I found the note on my tack box. It was certainly clear in its instruction, a shiver ran down my body as I re-read the text. I had a decision to make, would I follow the instructions or walk away. Although it seemed that simple this was the step into the unknown, two days ago I had been discovered, mid-self bondage session by my riding instructress Hilary. She had enlightened in me feelings I had never encountered, and to be honest I had never cum as powerfully. But I was confused, I was not gay, was I?

Kens life in Self Bondage 3: The Later Years

Sun, 10 Feb 2013 00:00:00 +0000

WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. Kens life in Self Bondage 3: The Later Years Ken Solo-M; Sbm; rope; cbt; outdoors; trees; water; beach; catheter; enema; public; torment; stuck; cons; true; XX continued from part two

This is my story of self bondage. More specifically my story of cock and ball self bondage. It started over 60 years ago. In the beginning it was all so new and exciting. Today 60 plus years later it is not new but it is still exciting.

Kens life in Self Bondage 2: The Middle Years

Mon, 28 Jan 2013 00:00:00 +0000

continued from part one

2: The Middle Years

I had a job working on a farm for a couple of years and quite enjoyed it. For most of the time I was never there by myself as the family that I worked for never went on holidays. In my third year they decided that they had earned a well deserved 3 week holiday and left me in charge of the place. It had a barn with a hay loft in it and a trap door to get the hay down. Shortly after everyone left I got the urge to have some of my pent up fun. It had been a very long time.

Loch Ness Horror

Sat, 26 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

This story contains scenes of being eaten, biten and chewed - not for the squeemish!

Christiaan made his way down to the water’s edge. The pathway was enclosed by trees and he walked past a shelter that overlooked the Loch. The path came out in a stretch of shingle and a rectangular rocky edge that stretched out to be submerged in the water. To the right trees covered the steep valley slopes and the valley walls ran parallel with the water towards the horizon; disappearing around folds. The water was calm and reflected the hills. The day was clear and sunny as Christiaan looked out over Loch Ness.

Deflowered 2

Sat, 28 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

continued from part one

Part Two

At first, Gwen could not be sure whether the light that filled her vision was blinding her because she had opened her own eyes or not. Her mind was fogged, as though she were waking up with a terrible hangover and it was hard to make sense of her surroundings. While it seemed to follow that she must have been inundated with the light because she had just opened her eyes, there was the inescapable feeling that they had already been looking into some kind of impenetrable darkness when something else changed and admitted the relentless beams.

The Pond

Wed, 09 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

I held the spoon up to Patti’s lips. She slurped, swallowed.

“Thank you, Master.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

She shook her head. “No, Master. You know how I zone out when you wrap me.”

“Mm. What do you remember?”

“I remember you wrapping me and standing me in the window-”

“Go back to the beginning. You know how I like you to tell me these things.”

“Yes, Master. May I have more chowder?”

The Pond

Wed, 09 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

I held the spoon up to Patti’s lips. She slurped, swallowed.

“Thank you, Master.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

She shook her head. “No, Master. You know how I zone out when you wrap me.”

“Mm. What do you remember?”

“I remember you wrapping me and standing me in the window-”

“Go back to the beginning. You know how I like you to tell me these things.”

“Yes, Master. May I have more chowder?”

The Lake

Mon, 07 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

I was bathing in the local lake, late summers evening, calm water, sun reflecting off the surface of the peaceful liquid. All of a sudden I heard a rustle in the nearby trees, I swooped my wet hair in quickened motion to look behind, there he stood, that tall handsome stranger, he was awesome, tall dark handsome majestic, I didn’t even try to hide my nakedness from his eyes…..

Do my eyes deceive me, was the beauty I gazed upon real, surely not, but a mere illusion brought on by the midday heat. But as I approach the waters edge this vision of perfection does not fade, but turns her head towards me and smiles shamelessly in all her naked glory. I attempt to speak but no words will spill from my lips.

Drip, Drip

Tue, 03 May 2011 00:00:00 +0000

DRIP, DRIP

Geoffrey was laid out naked on a table: secured firmly to it by a broad metal band that covered his middle and pressed his arms against his sides. The room the table was in was well lit by lamps in the corners of the room and five feet above him was a small water tank with a tap suspended over his forehead. Splash! The water dripped down on him, causing his body to jerk. He counted one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine … Splash! The water dripped down and Geoffrey spasmed again. He counted the seconds and the water dripped down a third time. It must have been an hour or more since he was put in here. Geoffrey couldn’t tell as his watch had been taken away with his clothes. Sometimes the droplets of water splashed into his eyes and ran down his cheeks. The idea being to wear down his stamina. He’d also heard that it was also to wear a groove in his forehead. Why, he thought. He had two holes in his head for his nostrils; two for his ears; two for his eyes; one for his mouth and the one his brain leaked out of. The dripping water had been disconcerting at first, but he’d eventually got used to it. He’d even been able to doze for a short time; still feeling the drops on him. He was also enjoying the thrill of being naked and tied up. Especially when Su - Lin came in. Geoffrey felt his restrained penis swell. She was Chinese and had a shapely figure highlighted by the strapless, floral-print swimsuit she wore. She wore her brown hair in a fringe and her heart-shaped face had wide brown eyes and full lips. “How old are you?” he’d asked her as he was stripped and tied up. “Twenty-two,” she’d told him, before postioning the water tank overhead on a rail and leaving, locking the door behind her. She bent over him; making sure he had had a full view of her clevage to torment him more. “Little slant-eyed bitch,” Geoffrey thought, “I want you but you’ve got me.” “How are you getting on?” she purred. “All right thank you,” Geoffrey answered chirpily. “Thanks for the water. I haven’t been thirsty.” The girl smiled. “Are you ready to talk?” “Talk about what?” Geoffrey asked. Su - Lin put her hands on his chest and massaged his breasts; kneeding his nipples between her fingers. Geoffrey tensed and wished he could be released. “You know what you want to tell me,” she cooed, “Whether you want this to go on, or do you want it to stop?” “Give me a big kiss and I’ll tell you,” Geoffrey smiled. Su - Lin smiled back: “You know I can’t do that. Not yet.” She pinched his nipples causing him to wince.

The Further Training of 'S' 7: Crime & Punishment

Wed, 22 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

continued from part 6

Chapter 7: Crime & Punishment

The suiting up process had taken a long time. The Male slave had been instructed to dress ‘S’ in the heavy weight dry suit. The chains fitted to his arm fetters allowed only limited movement the restraints attached to a stainless steel waist belt were short and impeded his ability to make large movements. This together with the pinhole eye openings in his occluding helmet meant his task was made doubly difficult. Why he was thus fettered had ‘S’ wondering whether he was undergoing some sort of punishment because of some infraction of the rules laid down by the Master and Mistress. ‘S’ had not seen him except in the kitchen on one or two occasions.

Wet Behind the Ears

Wed, 16 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Barbara Gordon struggled futilely. It was no use, the cords were too cunningly tied. She was merely Barbara Gordon now, seeing that the Riddler had stripped off her Batgirl outfit before tossing her into the vat. Ropes pinned her legs at the ankles, knees and mid-thighs, turning her shapely gams into a single, ungainly limb. One, of the two more insidious ties, cinched her big toes together, which were then hooked over the spigot filling the vat.

In Deep Water

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 00:00:00 +0000

My girlfriend’s family owns a beach house, a nice little two-bedroom plus other rooms. We had often gone there for a weekend, but this time it was special - - the private beach was clothes-optional for the weekend! Joining us that weekend was her sister Deb; I don’t think Deb thought much of me, and she was not my favorite person, though I tried to hide it. After dinner and a few drinks, we walked along the beach; Cindy was topless - - her tits were small but nicely shaped, and did not bounce with the lack of support. I had on my shorts and Deb, whose body is kind of bulky, favored us all by not wearing anything revealing. I guess the beer loosened my tongue because as we walked along, I made comments such as “look at that pair of fried eggs” and “she should put something on those mosquito bites.” The sisters said nothing, but when we returned to the house and I had taken a leak, Cindy ordered me to lie down on the single bed. We had done some light bondage before, many time she had tied me to the bed and then played with my cock; she could bring me to orgasm that way, but I really wished that she would blow me. “You were a bad boy tonight, insulting some of those girls. You don’t know how hurtful that is. Just like when you had to walk through the locker room when your penis was smaller than the rest of the boys. You need some punishment so you won’t do that again!” Ouch! She was right. I had never told her of this frustration but she might have guessed since my package was not that large. She bought out the leather cuffs and put them on my wrists and ankles and then secured me to the frame of the bed. But rather than play with me, she turned off the lights and went into the next room. And that’s how I spent the night. In the morning, she woke me and released one wrist and handed me a portable urinal to relieve myself. Then she reattached the cuff to the bed and gave me her news. “Im on call this weekend. (She’s a nurse.) And I have to leave. Max will be here later this morning and the two of them can decide what to do with you. I’ll be back in the morning.” Max was Deb’s boyfriend. I had never met him but no good could come of this. I begged Cindy’s forgiveness but she walked out without further comment. An hour later, in walked Deb and Max. Max was a girl! Maxine. And if Deb was butch, Max was even more so. Max was holding a wooden stock which she put under my neck. Then the released one of my hands and put it into place; when I resisted as they put the other one in place, Max grabbed my crotch and started to squeeze. I knew I could not resist and meekly put my other wrist into the space. The two parts of the stocks closed and I heard the click of a padlock. Then they released my ankles and stood me up; there I was with my arms in “surrender” position on either side of my head. “We have plans for you,” said Deb, as she tied a rope onto the ring in the front of the stock. “Let’s go.” They led me down to the water’s edge and the small raft which went with the property. We pushed off and I wondered if they were going to take me out to the big raft in the lake and leave there. As Max paddled, Deb tied floatation devices onto the ends of the stocks. When we got about 100 feet out, Max stopped paddling and they pushed me off into the water. With the wooden stocks and the floatation devices, I floated easily. “We’d better protect him against sunburn.” One of them liberally sprinkled lotion on my head and hands and rubbed it around. “Don’t worry about drifting off into the lake. We are taking the rope and will tie it to the pier, and when we want you back, we will just reel you in like a fish.” I begged them not to leave me but it was no use. In a few minutes, I was alone - - but not for long. Part II - Company Not too long after, two girls swam out to me. They were wearing swim caps and goggles so there was no way to see who they were. “Isn’t he the one who called your titls fried eggs?” “I think it is. Let’s see how big his private parts are.” They dove down and I could feel my shorts being removed. Then they came back up. “You have lots of nerve to talk about small sexual organs. I wonder what we can do to help him.” One of them untied the anchor rope. I pleaded for them not to let me drift out into the lake. No worry. The dove down and I felt my cock and balls being pulled away from my body and then the rope being tied around below my balls. “That ought to help you stretch out when you are pulled back into shore. And so you won’t know who did it, let’s leave these here.” My shorts were pulled over my head and my vision was gone. I head them laugh and swim off. Now I had to get out of there and hope someone on shore would release me. I could propel myself a little by kicking, but it was hard to do more than one or two kicks at a time. After a few times, I felt a sudden pull in my crotch. Damn, I was going to wrong way and the rope had stopped me. Painfully! I tried to flip the shorts off but they were wet and clung to my face. I turned around (or hoped I had) and finally got far enough that my feet touched sand. I walked onto the beach and in my joy, forgot about the rope. Another sudden yank on my crotch, this one more painful because I was moving faster. I thought of traacing it back to the pier but collapsed under the strain of my ordeal. Part Three - That night I woke when Deb and Max brought me back to the house. They left me on the bed, still in stocks, and let me rest. As it was getting dark, they put me in a sitting position and released my wrists, one by one, and cuffed them behind my back. Removing the stock, they tied the rope around my neck and then put a ball gag in my mouth. “No comments from you tonight but others can make theirs about your lack of a package.” And they led me down the beach, naked except for the cuffs, gag, and rope on my neck. We got to a bar with a little fence on the sand side. The fence was about crotch high and I didn’t know what further humiliation was in store for me until Max pulled a dildo from her pocket. They backed me to the fence, and just before we got there, the dildo went into my asshole. Then they used the rope to tie my legs together, with the fence rodss between them. And if that was not enough, the end of the rope tied my wrists to the fence, so I was now pulled backwards, which forced the buttplug farther into my ass. And my crotch was at the end of the fence, not touching it, and very inviting for anyone to play with, And it was played with, but not enough that I could get more than aroused halfway, at which time the touching stopped. What frustration! Part Four - back home They let me sleep in the bed, unsecured. And naked. Deb told me that she would tell Cindy that Max did not make it for the weekend and that she and I just hung around and did nothing special. And who would Cindy believe, me or her sister? I was defeated. Park Five - the new swim suit Cindy arrived later and I just kept quiet. Except that I had no shorts; I had lost them in the lake. And the clothes-optional period was over. So at Deb’s suggestion, we went to buy me a new swim suit. But not what I expected. We stopped at a dancewear store where Cindy asked to see an extra-large tank leotard. I tried it on and the fit was wonderful; snug in the crotch but not too much. Cindy ran her fingernail along my cock, which just showed up as a little bump. “This shiny material and the dark color are perfect to hide your privates. All we need to do is shave your pubic hair.” “I don’t know why you don’t find yourself a real man with a well-developed crotch. This one is pathetic.” “Deb, I told you that I would judge men and you would judge women, and we would not interfere with each other’s choices.” Cindy also looked at a bright red tank, also shiny lycra, and bought that for a special time. I was sure that the color would not hide by bump as well as the black, but I have yet to wear it and find out. The sisters took me a a women’s beauty shop and talked with the girls. One of them took me into a back room where I laid on a table, was doused with shaing cream, and my lower hair was removed. Before I could get dressed, the others came in and haad a good laugh at my now bare crotch. So I am now “leotardguy” at the beach. No worry about losing the swim suit, and I am used to the teasing. And it really does fit nicely! Tom

The Drip

Tue, 28 Jul 2009 00:00:00 +0000

The vacuum’s high-pitched whine roared to life and the air was sucked out from between the two layers of latex. Paige’s breath caught in her chest as she felt the smooth fabric press in on her naked flesh, trapping her in place. Flexing her bicep, she tried to raise her arm, but it was no use. That thin layer of black latex was holding her captive better than a pair of handcuffs. She tried to move her other arm, her legs, her head, even her hips, but she could not move an inch. The most she could accomplish was a series of isometric exercises.

Bathtub Bound

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 00:00:00 +0000

Authors note: This is a true story. It is based loosely on The Bathtub Bound scenario found at http://www.boundanna.com/html/en_scen_bathtubound.html It has been adapted to suit me and is not an exact copy of the scenario.

Looking at the bath I knew what I was doing was silly, idiotic and a little bit dangerous but I also knew that certain urges are part of me and the only way to deal with them was to involve self bondage. Well, either that to pay for someone to do it for me but that’s not the kind of thing you come across in the Yellow Pages!

Two Rubber Slaves

Tue, 20 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000

This compilation of reports were sent to my then rubber mistress. They take place during two different weekends the first in December 2003 and the second in January 2004, Martin Luther King Day weekend. They are related entries and here they are for your reading and rubbery fantasizing pleasure.

Hello my rubber pets,

Tonight you are to go out for dinner: You may choose your outer clothing to cover as much or as little as you wish to.

First to the Water

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The cold walls of the cell surrounded Thomas as he lay on the bunk, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Considering the size of the cell, and the complete and utter lack of anything to keep his attention, his mind wandered towards what he would be doing the rest of the day. A bit of weight lifting perhaps, a dinner composed of crappy food… and that was it. Day after day of the same meaningless activities to keep him occupied… what was even more depressing was the fact that this was the rest of his life. There would be no escape from the monotony, as the possibility for parole hadn’t been included when the judge had ordered him to be sent here. That fact had long since bored itself into his brain, but Thomas couldn’t get his mind off that unpleasant fact. There was movement near the cell door. His roommates coming back from breakfast maybe? “All right Morrison, up and at ‘em.” Thomas looked up curiously. One of the guards was waiting for him at the door. As far as he knew, he didn’t have an appointment with the fine officers of the prison. “What’s going on?” he asked as he got off the bunk and walked over to the gate. “Warden wants to see you.” “Him? Why?” “Hell if I know.” “Did I break a rule?” “Don’t think so. He didn’t offer any details. Now come on, slip your hands through.” With well practiced precision, Thomas put his hands through the opening in the bars, allowed the guard to lock the handcuffs on. The cold steel gripped his hands as the gate was opened and he walked out. The guard led him through the wing of the prison towards the central hub, where the warden’s office waited. They entered a few moments later, where the warden was waiting in his plump chair. “Take a seat Morrison.” Thomas did so. “If I may ask,” he said. “Why am I here?” “Don’t worry, you didn’t break any rules or get into trouble,” the warden said. “In fact, that’s precisely the reason you’re here.” Confused, Thomas looked at the warden. “Morrison, there’s a new program being started up by the state. It’s scheduled to go into full operation about a year from now, but currently it’s in the last stages of testing. It’s a new method of housing prisoners, and they’re looking for someone to test it out on.” It only took a second for Morrison to realize where this was going. “They sent out a bulletin to us last night asking if we had anyone who could be a test subject, and I immediately thought of you.” “Why?” “Simple. You’re one of the best inmates we got. Spotless record, never caused a fuss, never got in a fight. You’re grade A prisoner, and that’s who they’re looking for.” Thomas wasn’t sure if he was flattered or not. “Oh.” “Because of that, I wanted to offer you the opportunity to try out this new housing procedure before anyone else.” “What’s in it for me?” “Well, it’ll be a lot more comfortable and possibly more enjoyable then spending most of your time in cells…” That got Thomas’s attention. “I figured that would catch your eye. Now, I can’t tell you exactly what this procedure is, but if you’re interested, all you have to do is say the word.” “I’d rather be freed.” “Sorry, but we can’t arrange that. You know what the judge said. Life without parole. Even working in this experiment can’t change that. All we can offer is to make your life more comfortable. It only took a few moments for Thomas to make up his mind. “Done.” “That quick, eh?” “If it gets me out of this hellish place, I’ll do it.” “Figured you’d say that. We’ve already got a van set to take you out there. You need to get your things?” Thomas shook his head. “Nothing to get.” “All right then. I’ll send word out to get you going… you do know they’ll have to transport you in full gear, right? High name prisoner like you needs to be tied down.” “I won’t run.” “I know. But rules are rules.” “I can take it.” “Good. Better get going then.” Thomas stood, the guard coming up to escort him out. As he started out, Thomas paused. “Oh, warden… what exactly is this facility?” The warden shook his head. “They didn’t say.”

Jane's Toy Part 2

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Jane’s Toy)_

SIX

I woke to darkness…

My world was spinning, swaying to and fro and I felt my mind swirling in kind as I tried to get my bearings. I was still bound; hand, foot and elbow, and by the feel about me, still lying helplessly in the toe of an over-sized nylon stocking that dangled from the ceiling.

But truth, it wasn’t the stocking that was over-sized, but rather me that had been shrunk down to the size of a mouse and deposited within for the night for safekeeping. By my Giant captress, Jane, who was now missing.

Tales From The Psych Ward 6: We Are Not Alone

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Tales From The Psych Ward 5: The Pony Farm)

Part 6: We Are Not Alone

Pony prancing up the middle of the street naked resulted in me being sent back to in-house treatment until I was once again “no longer a threat to myself or others around me.”

Dr. Henderson testified at the committal hearing. I’m not sure if he was for the defense or the prosecution. He explained that when I am in one of my states, I am not an overt threat to others or myself, but I am not aware of the reality around me. Thus, I could significantly injure myself or others. In his most expert-witness-called-to-testify voice, he explained to the judge, “During these episodes, he almost seems to be in his own personal reality.”

The Car Wash

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

It was a small town, but not so small that it didn’t have two car washes, but that’s where the similarities ended. The one on the North side of town was old fashion, and everything was done by hand with college kids working for little money and big tips. The owner of that establishment had little invested in his business, and he did quite well the few days he was open, as most of the men in town liked to see the girls washing their cars in their cut off shorts and bikini tops. The girls had fun, and if things got slow they would stand on the side of the road and flag the cars in. The owner was old school, and he knew that sex sells, but he also knew that his competition was the future.

The Car Wash 2

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Car Wash)

Part 2

Kris’ video went viral, and the whole world was caught up in trying to discover who she was, and her possible motivations. Her face had been protected by her motorcycle helmet, and her license plate wasn’t in the camera’s field of view either, protecting her identity for the moment. Some enterprising souls had discovered the car washes web site, and the camera angles were unmistakeably the same ones making it a must see for those who saw the video. She had to instantly get rid of her old car, but with lines forming at all times of the day and night she could easily afford a nice new one to replace it.

The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 23: Saskia's Plans Take Shape

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 22: Dolores’ Little Secret)

Chapter 23: Saskia’s Plans Take Shape

Saskia walked out into the hallway directly outside Dolores’ apartments, her mind reeling from the discovery she’d just made and – more importantly – what she’d just done. For several seconds, as she made her way towards the nearest staircase, the sound of muffled screams and stifled banging assaulted her ears. But as she put more distance between herself and the hellish rumpus that the Mistress of Shackleton Grange was stirring up, the less pronounced the sound became, until, once on the landing of the next floor down, it faded away, to leave the old house in a state of ghostly silence.

The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 24: A Shift in the Balance of Power

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 23: Saskia’s Plans Take Shape)

Chapter 24: A Shift in the Balance of Power

What do you think would happen if, after having been kept tied up by their host for days on end, humiliated and scared out of their wits, three spandex-clad young ladies suddenly found that they had the run of the rambling old house in which they’d been imprisoned, with all the dungeons and other places of incarceration now available to them, and with copious amounts of bondage equipment such as ropes and shackles just sitting there waiting to be experimented with?

Tomorrow I Break You

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Entry from the S(A)X Leather Bondage Story competition 2005

It had all started innocently enough about 8 weeks ago, but things were different now. much different.

Chris was 28 years old, 6 feet tall with a muscular build, short messy dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that girls almost always commented on. He was quite handsome, but very down to earth, he took pride in his apperance and did his best to exercise and run. This gave him great endurance, which would serve him better than he could have ever known.

Twelve Days a Slave 7: Water Punishments

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Twelve Days a Slave 6: Madison Robotic Discipline System)

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Slave missy endures a variety of water punishments.

This is the story of a young woman’s conviction as a terrorist and what happens to her when she is sentenced to penal slavery. Penal slavery is not impossible. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments to the Constitution of the United States of America do not NOT prohibit slavery. They only LIMIT slavery to punishment for crimes. In other words, the Constitution allows penal slavery.

Washing Machine

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Most of the regulars here already know how badly I’ve always wanted to be laundered in a washing machine and clothes dryer. My girlfriend has been using me as her ironing board every week for the past year. That’s been incredible, but the experience has just made me crave to be put into a washing machine even more…

I’ve been very candid with my girlfriend about this fantasy (fetish?), and she’s remarkably agreeable. She seems to honestly enjoy ironing on me, and she’s always been very open to the idea of washing me with her laundry.