F-F

Author's Note: Another story in the on-going “Foundation Chronicles” stories. A young senator tries to gather political momentum to do something about all the women going missing. The Foundation is forced to take action against this potential threat. Anne watched as ten, collared, and recently trained, slaves lined up for inspection. They stood straight at the shoulders, but with eyes downcast, as they were taught. They were naked, except for the metal collar that slaves of all ranks wore, even trustees like herself. Their bodies still bore the bruises and welts of her intense training program. A program, that chief of staff to the Prime Dom herself intended to scrutinize. ...

Author's Note: A short story intended to introduce a world that I hope to write more stories in going forward. This is a complete story describing the process of training a slave for the service of a secret organization called The Foundation. Chapter 1 Haley’s eyes fluttered open, her vision going from a grey fog to a watery blur before finally coming into focus. She saw only a cement wall in front of her. Her head was pressed against a hard backing by a tight restraint making it impossible to look around. ...

Meter Level One - Establishing A Base Line! As far as I was concerned she was a pseudo submissive. She played at being a sub’, and probably was to an extent, but only when she was calling the shots. I figured her out within the first couple of play sessions we did and knew she was constantly guiding the scene to her own advantage and topping me from the bottom. ...

Part I He hadn’t really wanted to play this new game and anyway the two women were being very secretive as to what it really involved. Brad was sitting in the back of the car with Emma and Victoria in the front. Both women were in their mid-twenties, both slim and attractive and both in the aerobics class that Brad took each Friday evening. Victoria was wearing a pair of well fitting blue jeans and blouse; Emma was more casual in tight denim shorts and a t-shirt. Having had no plans for that evening, Brad agreed to spend the evening with them. ...

Author's Note: This is the first multi-part story I’ve worked on in some time. Please read, enjoy and leave a comment. Part 1 It was something of a truism that, if you dug deep enough every neighborhood, no matter how small, had its mysteries and a rare few of those were even actually mysteries. Famous crimes, strange disappearances, spooky occurrences and unexplained phenomenon, the kind of things that might even draw in tourists or a television crew if the neighborhood was insistent enough in promoting itself. Of course, most neighborhood mysteries were completely mundane. Little more than housewife gossip, the type passed around church pews and barbecues, or wildly exaggerated stories that became little more than urban legends, if they were interesting enough. Hickory Lane could not even claim that much. Oh, there was certainly plenty of gossip, that seemed to be something of a universal constant, but most of it was of an utterly mundane sort. The Emerson divorce had been the biggest news in a while, but that ended up being too painfully amicable to make for a good story. No, the real enduring mystery of the neighborhood was a house. Not a haunted house, nothing so interesting, just an old house. It was a nice house, most would agree, a small two-story affair at the far end of the block right next to a thicket of hickory trees that had given the development its name once upon a time enclosed by a wooden fence in the back. Now, who had built the house and when was something of a mystery. No one in the neighborhood was entirely certain just how long it had been there, though most agreed that it had to have been among the first homes built here and certainly the oldest still standing, but that was hardly the sort of mystery that got tongues wagging. Nor was the house some rundown and abandoned ruin of an earlier age. The building itself was clean and well kept, the shutters painted, the yard and the gardens in the back were neatly tended and the pool was cleaned regularly. That was no mystery either since the house was occupied and had been for years. No, as was also traditional the true mystery of 137 N. Hickory Lane was its residents. ...

Author's Note: In this 3 part sci-fi spoof we go back to the 1960s, when the forces of UNCLE (The United Network Command for Law and Enforcement) were battling the evil THRUSH Organization. Our heroine, April Dancer, was recruited by UNCLE right after college. In Part 1, April goes through a rigorous 90 day probationary training period, which included the UNCLE Torture Chair Test and a water torture test. When she passes, April enthusiastically participates in UNCLE’s bizarre recreational sex program. In Part 2, April takes part in UNCLE’s Field Exercises. She is captured and tortured by members of a lesbian women’s team. After the field exercises conclude, April and her friends are kept for nearly 24 hours and forced to play lesbian bondage sex games. In part 3, April and her best friend double cross 2 of the lesbian women and trick them into a night of heterosexual bondage sex. April must endure THRUSH’s latest weapon, The Fucking Machine! Finally, April becomes a hit in UNCLE’s Playroom. ...

Author's Note: This is my rendition of the very 1st Episode of The Girl From UNCLE, first televised on September 16, 1966, Obviously certain scenes from this episode could not be shown on TV. Please see my introductory story to April Dancer, The Girl From UNCLE, elsewhere on this website. Hi, this is April. My new partner, Mark Slate, and I, had been training together, at UNCLE’s secret headquarters, for about 3 weeks and felt that we worked together quite well. One Monday morning, we were called to Chief Waverly’s office for our 1st mission. UNCLE operatives in Athens, Greece, had received information about a phenomenon occurring on the only village on a small island, Kronos, just off the S.E. coast of Greece’s mainland. A few of UNCLE’s native operatives infiltrated the island and took film of most everyone moving about in slow motion. Worse yet, the daily end of the work day Greek dance held around the fountain in the center of the town, looked pitiful. Both the dancers and musicians were lethargic and danced and played at a very slow unhappy rate. Mark and I and Mr. Waverly were watching video of this phenomenon that had been flown in. We learned that a THRUSH agent, by the name of Poulous, was responsible and lived in a guarded walled mansion set on top of a hill. While in Kronos, our operatives had also taken blood samples of a number of affected villagers, and shipped them along with the film we seemed to be constantly watching. ...

Not bad for being forty four. Other moms at my age are fat, puffy-eyed, semi bald and depressed. I was fit, B cups, dark brown eyes one meter sixty-five. I keep a good tan as I use an UVA sunbed on a beauty parlor. My dark brown hair was very short, boyish, with a very short fringe. Like a young Kate Beckinsale in Uncovered. Dian is the name. The key is keep doing exercises. I was thinking about thess things while I looked at my reflection on the mirror. ...

Author's Note: Thanks to Jennifer Harrison for her assistance, and for letting me read her great-great grandmother’s diary. I write stories with bondage, not bondage stories, so this story isn’t just a collection of tie-whip-rape scenes with a little bit of filler. If that’s what you’re looking for you’ll be disappointed, so go elsewhere. My father, Sir Charles Harrison, FRS, DPhil, was dying. He had been dying for months, but now, in this first week of June, 1889, the end was near. He was wracked by another spasm of coughing, and the cloth he held to his lips was stained with blood. “Jenny, come closer,” he whispered. ...

Author's Note: A highwayman robs a lady’s coach on the turnpike at Southwark in 1697 and takes a rich prize; a Nazi interrogator extracts information from a captured British spy; Emily Cavandish recalls other encounters too, recounting them to a student psychiatrist in the sanatorium in which she is held. Is it possible that we can be reborn or is this just her delusions ? If we are reborn then can some lives be linked through time, intertwined across the centuries ? If memories live on, can love be eternal and hate continue so that revenge be served in future lives ? ...