Prologue My wife’s eight years younger than I am so you could say I was a cradle robber but we’ve been in love since we met in our twenties. Paula’s introduction into bondage had started while we dating. I had brought it up in conversation and as the interest grew had shown her my small collection of toys and magazines. Most of the magazines were geared towards the female persuasion which I thoroughly enjoy. Over time she helped craft several of her bondage sessions we did from the pictures within. I also had several magazines with women dominating their male subs with all types of torture including cbt, spanking; sucking the proffered dildo and driving home. For many years bondage was a mutual thing between us; with her playing the sub much more often than dominate because she doesn’t share my desire to be a dominate mistress. For her the real turn on was the unexpected twist of those very sensitive parts. I enjoyed building her to multiple orgasms with toys or my cunning tongue then completing the task by driving home “the real thing” as she says while she was very immobile and out of control; something I enjoy as well. Over the course of time however things changed as they always do. She still enjoys our making love with all its passion in the moment but her desire for the bondage play has dampened time and “the change” which leaves me to the off moment when she’s gone and all’s quite at home. When I play alone she’d normally make checks on me for safety reasons and the occasional ass slap or ride. ...

Author's Note: My first attempt at a longer story so please feel free to comment. James Miller slipped the black, lacy bra over his head and made sure it was in a comfortable position before grabbing the gel-filled balloons he used to simulate breasts. He stuck one of them over each pectoral and made sure that they weren’t visible. He then slid the dance belt up his shaved legs and tucked his junk under it. It was followed a black, lacy thong that matched the bra. He turned to check himself out in the mirror. His reflection was that of a woman. He had a long blonde wig on over his close cropped hair and had shaved all hair on his chin or beneath his nose. With some black eyeliner and mascara around his blue eyes, rouge on his cheeks, and red lipstick coating his lips, his face almost passed for a woman. As for the body, with no body hair and no fat and the dance belt and balloons, he easily passed for a very gorgeous woman. ...

They were waiting for him when he arrived home. It was after midnight and the street was empty, so there was little chance that they would be seen. The white Ford van parked in front of the house would most likely go unnoticed because of the auto mechanic across the street. There were different cars parked on the block every day and chances were good that it had roused no suspicion at all. He had barely got out of his car when the back doors of the van flew open. Three women, all clad in the same black, skin-tight cat suits, came running towards him. Startled, he dropped his bag and tried to grab the maglite he kept next to the drivers’ seat, in an effort to defend himself. By this time they were already on him and one had placed a cloth drenched in chloroform ether over his face, which he quickly succumbed to. ...

Author's Note: Synopsis: Animal rights activist Lucie is not exactly excited when her highschool’s Egyptian arts teacher asks her to help with a project in the museum. - Note: It’s more of a horror story than anything else. Entomophobes beware. P.S. English is not my mothertongue, so please bear with me. “For they have seen the King appearing in power As a god who lives on his fathers And feeds on his mothers ...

I take off my glasses and rub my eyes, looking away from the computer monitor in an attempt to dispel the beginnings of a headache. The clock on my wall says it is too late to be studying. I smile, turning on my swivel chair to look down the length of my very small, very narrow, very cramped (but en-suite) university room. I had arrived at university with the intention of going wild and breaking from my boring tradition of being a good girl, of doing my homework the night it is set, but have somehow slipped into my old ways without realising it. I curse myself and get to my feet, wondering what the rest of the campus was doing on this warm Thursday evening. ...

Author's Note:Before getting to the story, I wanted to right a brief intro for anyone who chooses to read it. First of all, I’d like to thank you for taking the time to check out my work. Secondly, I wanted to give you an idea of what you can expect, since it is quite a commitment to make it all the way through, as those of you who read my first story now surely know. That first story, ‘Erica’s Capture’, got some mixed reviews, primarily because we all have different things that we look for in our kink, and some people would have preferred to have it go in a different direction than it did. I thought I’d take a minute to give readers an idea of what they can expect here, in order to avoid disappointment. This will be the story of the abduction of a young girl, and the gradual breaking of her will. It will involve continual restraint and confinement that starts fairly mildly and gradually grows more and more restrictive as she is trained and broken. There will not be a turning of the tables in this story, and our young captive has little or no chance of escape or rescue. If you’re looking for a story with a more positive potential ending, you should check out ‘Erica’s Capture’ if you haven’t already. In short, I will attempt to chronicle the creation of a slave from unwilling cloth (constrained by my limited writing ability and as filtered through my own fantasies and imagination), and I hope that you enjoy the ride. ...

Author's Note: I read all comments. If she could have spoken she would be berating herself, loudly. The thick rubber phallus filling her mouth stopped almost any sound, and it was held in place by the stretchy vinyl hood that covered everything but her nose and eyes, her long blonde hair poking through a hole in the back. The most noise she could make was an exasperated huff. Carrie’s thoughts were a blur, as they usually were for the first half hour or so after her tormentor finished with her, but one kept coming to the surface. Why do I keep letting her do this to me? ...

Author's Note: I’m not sure when I had this idea, I’m even sure how good it is. There seems a lot less sex, bondage and orgasms that I’d normally put in my stories but I think something about the situation is quite erotic. I’d be very interested to know what you think and if you have any other ideas for these entertainers. As it is I’m not planning a Part 2, however if the response is good I may be persuaded to continue! ...

I never was into any of that BDSM stuff - my husband should have known that but maybe it was his horniness and a hopeless overestimation of the power of pop cultural influence that made him think different. Anyway, the recent success of books like fifty shades of grey and my discovering of his online surf history did come in handy at a point where I loathed him so much that getting back at him was the only thing I desired, even if it meant my own downfall - if only I had known how deep I was going to fall… ...

Author's Note: Bondage is dangerous so never leave someone bound and gagged. Now on to the story . . . . Part One It was 6:30 and Peter had stepped out of the shower just after me. He came up behind me and put his arms around me to give me a cuddle as I was drying off. He started stroking at my breasts playing with my nipples so I reached behind him parting the towel around his waist and started stroking his cock. ...