Bondage

Author's Note: Responding to many requests I have written this story as a sort of sequel to ‘Runaway Chair’ . It is now the title story of a collection of BDSM tales published as ‘The Cyber Trap’ The receptionist at the Hilton Olympia looked embarrassed as she said: ‘I am sorry madam, Mr Tigliani checked out 09.30 his morning. No, he did not leave a message…’ I held my breath and closed my eyes while I slowly counted to ten. Then I let out my breath and I forced myself to smile at the girl. When I left the lobby I felt ready to kill that pompous asshole of an Italian who had absolutely insisted on one of our sales representatives’ meeting him in this hotel for a ‘commercial discussion’. And who simply had left without even a call on my cell phone! ...

Author's Note: This is a revamped version of my first attempt at telling a story of people. Hope it is better, I cringed when I re-read my first draft. _Update (10/28/11):* Enjoying this so far, hope you do also. Update (11/16/11): This story is consuming me. Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as my mind vividly enjoys creating it.* Chapter 1 - New Purchase Frustration, and humiliation overtook Ashley. ...

Author's Note: As usual, this is fiction. It is 1rst person because, well, that is the view point character. “I” gets capitalized if it begins a sentence. Oh, if you read this on another site, good eyes. I’m the author that submitted it there.:) The bondage is almost secondary to the power exchange. i await her. The damn Chastity Device is off and i’m rock hard but these restraints mean i can’t do anything about that. She knows it. She loves the irony. She loves my suffering. i love her for loving my suffering. ...

Author's Note: The story codes may imply a more graphic level of story violence than is actually delivered–but the theme is decidedly dark. I can’t believe this is happening, Sara Johnson thought to herself. How did I ever let myself get trapped with a husband like this? He’d seemed like such a catch at the time. Sara’s arms were bound tightly behind her back, in a Japanese style chest harness; she was lying on a musty mattress, still damp from her own urine. He’d left her bound for what seemed like days; then punished her when he found she hadn’t held her water, by looping a rope around her waist and tying it off with a slip knot. As he’d pulled the rope tight she’d felt her organs sloshing around inside her as they adjusted to the new shape of her body. It was an odd feeling, not too unlike mud being squished through her toes. He’d tied the end of the waist-rope to the mass of knots behind her back, tugging to make it as tight as he possibly could. Even with her back arched the rough fibers of the rope tore at the tender flesh between her legs. ...

Author's Note: Sorry about formatting, I actually typed this up on my phone during a particularly boring lecture. I was blindfolded. On my knees with my hands bound behind my back, tied on a short rope to some hook that was sunk into the cold concrete floor just behind my ass. I had been in this stuck here for probably half an hour, but it felt like much longer. The ball gag had been thrust into my mouth roughly ten minutes ago. My heart has been pounding ever since, and it missed a beat when I heard her heels clicking on the floor. ...

Author's Note: The premise: A dark, sinister tale of harsh injustice and vengeance in the medieval era. Loyalties will be tested, limits will be pushed, and lechery will run rampant - nothing is sacred in this supernatural tale of sexual depravity. Prologue: Plunged Into Pain A young woman swayed gently through the dank air of the cold dungeon cell. She was suspended by her ankles above a large clear cistern, her bare feet spread and locked against the cold stone ceiling by thick chains and heavy shackles. Her long crimson hair dangled just above the glistening pool, though it was already damp from the moist subterranean air around her. She could see her reflection in the glassy surface below: a pale girl stared back, her emerald-green eyes sparkling with unshed tears, her countenance shivering with apprehension yet wearing the stoic expression of one who refused to give in to her fear. The only light in the dim cell came from two wall-mounted candles whose flames cast a soft glow across the girl’s naked form. Her chiselled figure and shapely curves taunted her, serving as unwelcome reminders of a time long past - a time when she would do the teasing and her body was revered as divine, not strung up like some hunk of meat. ...

Part I *She struggled because there was nothing else to do but it wasn’t to get free, she already knew that was impossible, it was to prevent her muscles from atrophying and her mind from screaming even if, physically, she was currently incapable of doing anything of the kind. Mentally she was alert enough. She could still remember the jab of the needle in her upper left thigh and the hands that had held her tightly as it was emptied into her but right now everything else, apart from the fact that she was held rigidly to a chair, bound tightly and blindfolded and gagged, was just a blank….* ...

“I wish I wasn’t so stressed,” she said. She had already said it multiple times that night. I could understand why; finals were coming right up. Tomorrow was her French exam, and I was helping her cram as her part-time “tutor”. It’s something I did completely for free, save for some free beer she always seemed to have on hand; I was always a sucker for pretty women. Jillian, the girl I was tutoring, is a fourth-year student in her last semester of university (a year higher than I). She was of both Irish and Chinese heritage; she had an Asian face and body-type as she was quite skinny. Her breasts were the kind that some people would describe as “smaller but more natural”-looking. They weren’t tiny, but they weren’t anywhere near huge. When taking her tiny frame into consideration however, it really came into proportion. She had a nice body. Her Irish blood was evident in her red hair, which ran straight down just past her shoulders. Her skin was also very fair, although I don’t know if that’s either from her Irish genetics or the odd Chinese compulsion to keep skin as white as possible. Personally I think it’s (and hope for) the formal, I could always be wrong. ...

Author's Note: A fictional story for fantasy and enjoyment only. A sequel exists if there is interest, and of course feedback is always welcome! Cheri, Laura, and Gwen were best friends but almost nothing alike. Gwen was aggressive and passionate. She’d competed in gymnastics as a child and still practiced a little for fun and exercise. She also captained the university’s debate team and was bound to be a high priced lawyer someday, which got her into trouble when she contradicted her professors a little too much. The short-haired brunette hardly went a day without talking about her next hiking trip to the mountains. ...

Author's Note: sorta a rough draft , created from a erotic poem I wrote Here I am bound bent over a coffee table. I have been this way for hours. Ever since the dinner party turned into a night of entertainment. My Dominus bound me here for her friends to use as they see fit. My lingerie is torn, my ass is red from multiple spankings, I have been fucked so many times by strap-on and the real thing I have lost count. My jaw aches from all the cock and all pussy I have pleased. The whole time I have been locked in my chastity belt. Denied an orgasm or even the right to be turned on by current state. ...