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Author's Note: Here is my second story for this site i have put more effort in proof reading this one and took into consideration the last stories (A girls night in) feedback to improve this one, ENJOY! Chapter 1 To set the scene, our main character is called Rob, he is about halfway through his last year of college, so to start earning a bit of money, however little before he can get a full time job, he has a Friday evening job cleaning for a local restaurant, Danielle, is a forty something woman who he works with. ...

“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: 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?” ...

Chapter One Serendipity is defined as “the occurrence of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way. So let me tell you about my serendipity event . Two years ago during the summer before my final year in college I worked for a middle aged couple, Helen and David Roth in their commercial real estate business. They owned a couple of strip malls and a fairly large apartment building. Mrs. Roth was the power in their business. She worked the deals while David did the grunt work. Physically she was taller, heavier and I think a few years older than him. But it worked for them. I was hired to organize and digitize all their files. David was usually friendly to me, she on the other hand barley knew I was alive. Fast forward to about 10 weeks ago. I was on line and I Googled “Mature Dominatrix”. OK. That’s what I am into. At least as a fantasy. I live in the middle of nowhere where the closest pro Domme is a couple of hundred miles away. And at that time I doubted I would ever have the nerve to visit such a lady. So imagine the fucking shockwave that went through me when I found an online photo stream featuring Mrs. Roth. At first I thought it was one of those Google things. Maybe someone referred to her as a “Dominatrix of Business” or maybe a less than complimentary comment by an someone she went up against. There were lots of those. The heading on the photo stream said there were well over a thousand pictures. The first fifty or so showed her in her home, dressed in many different outfits. There were a lot more smiles in those pictures than I ever saw in the office. Some with David, some with her puppies. I was about to give up when a series of images of her in various undergarments started to display. Not Vickie’s Secret stuff, more like old style foundation garments. Long leg girdles and sturdy bras. Stuff woman of a certain age would have worn in the fifties. I was fascinated to say the least. And not a little excited. I continued through the pictures. More foundation garments with various see through baby dolls and teddies showing up and then I got to the money shot. Mrs. Helen Roth in knee high, high-heeled black leather boots, black fishnet stockings, a short black leather skirt and a un buttoned white blouse hanging open. She wore no bra, but you couldn’t quite se her nipples on her large tits. She had a lethal looking leather paddle in her hand and I had my dick in mine. The next three picture were her in the same outfit in various poses. But it was the next one that so surprised me that I actually stopped what my hand was doing. This was not a picture of her. It was someone dressed as a fetish French maid. I didn’t really understand it until I read the caption. The maid was David, her husband. ...

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. ...

They were waiting for him when he arrived home. It was after midnight and the street was empty, so there was little chance that they would be seen. The white Ford van parked in front of the house would most likely go unnoticed because of the auto mechanic across the street. There were different cars parked on the block every day and chances were good that it had roused no suspicion at all. He had barely got out of his car when the back doors of the van flew open. Three women, all clad in the same black, skin-tight cat suits, came running towards him. Startled, he dropped his bag and tried to grab the maglite he kept next to the drivers’ seat, in an effort to defend himself. By this time they were already on him and one had placed a cloth drenched in chloroform ether over his face, which he quickly succumbed to. ...

It had been almost a year since I had been to the dungeon and I was itching to go again. I really didn’t like having to pay the money, but with nobody in my life who would understand my fantasies, my best outlet was the professional mistresses I had been to a few times before. I went out to the dungeon web site and was disappointed to discover that all of the mistresses that I had visited in the past were gone. There was a new crop of them now, but I didn’t find them as attractive as the originals, so I started surfing the web to find a new dungeon. My surfing was successful as I quickly found another dungeon that looked to be fairly new, was not that far away, and looked to be stocked with several young, thin, attractive mistresses. I started an email discussion with one of them who went by the name of Mistress Jennifer. The emails went on for several weeks and over that time I started to slowly share with her my desires and fantasies. Then one day she emailed me with a day and time to come for a visit. This took me by surprise, since at the other dungeon, I had always asked for a date / time and they either said yes or no or suggested a different appointment time. It was the upcoming Saturday evening and I was instructed to be there at 10:40 PM prompt. It seemed a bit late, and her forwardness made me a bit nervous, but of course I said yes. All week, I could think of nothing else. ...

Author's Note: My first story. My wife and I do a little chastity play and some bondage, but nothing to the level i’ve written this story to! Chapter 1 – Life in Balance Mistress D’s slave awoke as normal with a throbbing pain in his crotch. The plastic prison encasing his cock stifled his erection. His moans were lost in the penis gag that she had locked onto him, penetrating his mouth and throat whilst the thick, padded leather hood completed his sensory isolation. He tried to move but he was bound – arms locked in a single leather arm binder behind him, a collar chained to the radiator on the floor, legs bound by leather straps at his ankles, thighs and knees. He was going nowhere. ...