Part 1
I decided to write this story to tell how two entirely separate interests – my love of bondage and my boyfriend’s love of women in uniforms – combined to form something much more powerful and exciting than the constituent parts.
My name is Gayle Travers and I’m a red-headed Welsh woman. In this country, that is a dictionary definition of ‘feisty’ – or, as we say here, stroppy bitch with attitude. When I was growing up, all my heroes were feisty women – on TV, in films, in books, in comics – and they were strong, assertive and independent, right up to the point where they were caught by the baddies (usually men) and tied up. In some cases, they escaped on their own but in most cases they had to be rescued by the hero. So when I was a kid, I always wanted to play with the boys and get tied up. If I managed to escape, that was great, I’d basically won my battle against the baddies. If I didn’t manage to escape, that was great too, as I had to suffer whatever punishment or torture they chose, whether it was tickling, being left tied up for hours or, on one memorable occasion, being lightly spanked.
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