“I don’t know why I agreed to this” Brad asked himself out loud as they parked the car and walked up to the front of the building. “Because you want to show me how much you love me and trust me and so I can be sure that you don’t misbehave while I’m at Claire’s hen weekend” Kate reminded him. Kate rang the bell discretely labeled ‘Lock Up Inc.’ and waited for a reply. ...
Author's Note: While this is a work of fiction, it is rooted in fact. There are jumpsuits designed for people who tend to undress at inappropriate times. There are prison jumpsuits that lock on. There are hospitals and psychiatric units attempting to give dementia patients a better outcome by incorporating new ideas into their treatment plans. I am not attempting to make fun of anyone who has dementia or any one of the hundreds of variations of the disease, or any other psychiatric disorder. I have great empathy for those individuals and their families who struggle every day to maintain some semblance of normality. Additionally, it is well known that people who are incarcerated for long periods of time are at increased risk of dementia and Alzheimers. I have no idea if people in the courts are considering anything like this to help prisoners with dementia, but I hope programs in place are actually working. This is a work of fiction. Please do not think of it as anything but fiction. ...
Author's Note: I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please feel free to comment below. My slave, Ai was kneeling in front of me, facing the corner, naked of course, ankles crossed, and hands behind her neck, wearing a collar, and leather wrist and ankle restraints, which was her standard slave “uniform”. It was the one year anniversary of our first bondage session. And tonight I had special plans for her - very special plans indeed. ...
Author’s Note: Dedicated to those who like secure straitjackets and powerful women. Derivative works and sequels are welcomed, but please acknowledge this work. Chapter One As soon as I dive through the door, I realize something is wrong. Certainly, many things are right and familiar. There is the exhilarating feeling of weightlessness, the whipping of the jumpsuit, and the roar of the wind. And then, there is the afternoon sun glistening off the distant desert lake. But this beautiful sight is part of the problem. ...
Author's Note: This is a fairly intense femdom story, with a blend of sensuality and extreme cruelty. So far it consists of 4 chapters. I’m debating how to finish it off in perhaps 1 or 2 more chapters. If you’ve feedback feel free to email it to me or find me via my blog at http://www.femdom-resource.com/ Chapter 1 - Prolog My wife says I’m the luckiest man alive. If I’m ever feeling down or unhappy she’ll remind me that our relationship is one in a million and that it was so lucky that we found one another. She’ll say “How many other husbands get the attention I give to you? How many other husbands are loved as much as you?” ...
Diana checked the clock as she moved the Sybian device into position. Plenty of time. Her part-time job left her frequent free afternoons, and she intended to get the most out of this one. She had already undressed, and was finishing her set-up clad only in the leather straps of an upper body harness. She had already put the bondage platform in middle of their large living room floor, and she set the Sybian carefully on top of it. ...
Part 1 It had arrived by truck that morning. The delivery men had struggled to lift the crate off the truck and get it onto the moving trolley. After considerable effort they managed to move it into the space provided in the garage. After the movers had left, she looked at it and opened the attached envelope. It read: “Dear new owner. Take care of me and I will do likewise. But do not open until one week after I have arrived. From Master X” ...
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. ...
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. ...