Bondage

12th September The surgery waiting room was deserted. The two men stood in the surgery itself, shaking hands and swapping envelopes. The deal was done. John Rose walked out of the doctors’ surgery with a smug, contented expression. He was a very rich man, but money couldn’t buy him the things he had wanted, until now. The doctor, Jamie, was a lifelong friend of John’s, and one of the country’s top surgeons, although only in his mid thirties. He was financially well off, but didn’t have the millions his friend John had in the bank. ...

Introduction My name is Samantha, and I have a story that I’d like to share with you. The story I am about to tell will sound strange coming from me because normally I am very shy. It happened just over a year ago now, but the memories of those events are forever in my mind. They have shattered my view of sexuality. But first let me give you a little background into my life. ...

Chapter 1 We were about a half-hour outside the city when I first started feeling uneasy. I was in a stranger’s car being transported down a highway at one o’clock in the morning, and the lights along the road were becoming less frequent, signaling our entry into the more sparsely populated countryside. Of course, it was only a vague uneasiness that I felt at that point. A premonition that this excursion would end up being an embarrassing story I would tell to my friends: the time I took a late night trip upstate with three random girls, all in pursuit of getting laid by one of them. I even somewhat relished the idea of telling that story. Sure, my friends would laugh at me, but they’d also kind of admire my dedication. It brought a smile to my face, anticipating the reactions of my friends to this little caper. And perhaps that was why I didn’t act on my uneasiness. ...

Allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Ann, I’m a 23 year old undergraduate living in Singapore. I stand at 1.6 meters, weighs 47 kilograms, measures 34C-24-33. It took me a while to recover from the tormenting session at home. I had ugly marks on my wrist and ankles, a pair of very sore nipples, painful vagina lips and very numb clitoris. For days, I had to give up pretty skirts for long jeans and long-sleeved shirts. I was so scared that my self-bondage sessions would leave me with scars and permanent damage that I completely stayed away from self bondage for months. ...

I am 30 year old male. I have been married for a year. My wife Jess was not aware of my passion of bondage yet, but I have a plan to change that. Jess had to go to her job for a few hours. For the past week I have been working on some stuff in my workshop. Now was the time to use them. She was going to be gone for about two hours. I first put a note on the kitchen tabe where I knew she would find it. ...

I loved every minute of it. Pay back is sweet. And just look at Sheila now. Her wrists are crossed and straped oh so tightly. Beyond tight. The straps cut deeply, almost cutting circulation. So do the straps pinning her elbows together above her head. And what a head. While she was unconscious I stuffed her mouth with her panties into one cheek and then my panties into the other. Then I pushed a nice hard ball in to pack it all in. Then a 2 inch plastic band pushing the ball even farther in. For good measure a 3 inch leather strap pulled with my utmost strength and buckled to seal the job. Now she would finally shut up. Great to have that vain self-adoring voice stopped. ...

Bree fiddled with her wedding ring as her new husband drove the car up the winding road. Though happy, she truly never thought she would be here. Even the word ‘husband’ still made her head spin. She had been completely independent her whole life. Captain of the debate team in high school, class president her senior year, until she was removed for organizing a protest against the schools ‘sexist’ dress code. She graduated top of her class Pre-Law, and published multiple articles in the universities paper about sexism displayed by the schools staff. She was going to Yale Law School in the fall, and she planned on becoming a Civil Rights lawyer. ...

Author's Note: Meg surrenders, knowing she will be broken and rebuilt as He sees fit. Chapter 1 The moment of truth, the moment when she could no longer escape, when her body was tightly bound and at the mercy of another, was always the same for Meg. It always aroused her. It always made her short of breath. It scared her, too, because she knew what could happen. She was no novice, and had offered herself to many dominants. ...

I arrive at my Mistress’ house at 9am and she’s waiting for me at the door looking intimidating. Dressed in knee-high boots, stockings, black leather skirt and a tight black corset, her breasts trying to escape from the tight confines of the corset and her long blonde hair in a ponytail, with her impossibly long eye lashes and luscious red lips, she is the picture of power and control. As I walk past her, she catches the cheek of my arse hard with her paddle, the sound of the leather on my jeans echoes around the hallway. ...

Author's Note: Author’s note for the reality challenged: This story deals with breath control. (Duh.) This is a really, really, dangerous activity. One which I’ve read (and I believe) is impossible to perform safely. No one can tell exactly where “the line” is which will result in brain damage or death. In fact, from what I’ve read, the vast majority of people who die from playing with breath control are people who are experienced in it. People who think that, because they’ve done it dozens of times, that that means they know how to do it safely. I tried as hard as I could to design a scenario which was as safe as possible. But I’ll freely admit that I’m not even one of those people who’s done this, and thinks he’s an expert, now. I’ve never done this, which means I’m describing how I think things would feel. ...