F-Self

Author's Note: Part 1 of a few. Part 1 You knew from the moment the letter arrived that you were going to attend. You got in the taxi because… why? Can you put your finger on the reason? Need? Want? Lust? Adventure? Boredom? Who cares! The letter dropped onto the mat at five past ten last Tuesday, and the inevitable consequence was that you would be stepping out of a taxi today, outside a well kept georgian house on a bright leafy street, fighting with your emotions. Ring the bell? Walk away? It’s not too late, you can still leave. But you know you won’t; can’t. Partly because this is something you need to do, something in you is driving you to be here, and you know if you leave now you’ll regret it forever. But also because, as the letter instructed, you have left your house without keys, wallet, or coat. You would have to walk home and break into your own house. ...

“I really don’t know how these people do it.” thinking to myself. It had been 30 minutes since I passed the last sign of civilization if you want to call a single pump gas station civilization. “I bet they don’t even take credit cards!” I ranted. I was starting to regret accepting my friend’s invitation to spend the weekend at his cabin in Maine. I never could quite understand what the thrill of driving 3 hours to a cabin just to get drunk was. I guess that is why I am here, I felt compelled to find out. ...

To the naked eye Helen was pretty ordinary. She was a cute, petite half Japanese girl. She had always done well in school, even though she came from a broken home, and had worked very hard to put herself through university. She kept fit by playing basketball in the summer (“I may be tiny, but I’ll kill you from the 3 point line” she was often heard to say at the Y where she played) and cross country skiing in the winter. There wasn’t much that made her stand out in a crowd, sure the boys would hit on her, but she figured that most boys would hit on anything with breasts… even her with her smaller than average “rack”. She kept her hair short and generally stayed out of the bar scene. She was a quiet, hard working, smart girl in the city. ...

Second place winner for the ‘Script your own Video’ Contest Visit our contest sponsor, Quality Control My Mom Lets start off with a little background, my name is Courtney and I’m 18 years old, Asian, 5'5’, 108 lbs, 34 C with nice long brown hair with streaks of blond. Not too bad for an Asian chick. I currently live with my mom and younger sister in a spacious home. My mom divorced when she was quite young, however she had a successful home business of which I know nothing of and we always had anything we wanted. ...

Author's Note: I posted this a little while back on Gromet’s. Apologies to those readers who frequent both sites, but I didn’t get any feedback whatsoever over there, and I’m itching to know if the story is any good. I mean, personally I loved the concept and I sure as hell enjoyed writing it, but for some mysterious reason I can never tell if the outcome is hot or sucks balls. And really, what good is writing a story without some praise/disdain from subgrrl, or getting to hear what “Betty says,” or receiving some professional critique on amateur pulp from Darios, or hoping for 5s from all of the anonymous voters out there? ...

Author's Note: : This story (blog really) is intended to be a collection of my self-bondage adventures. The depictions will be mostly true, but I may embellish from time to time. I look forward sharing my experiences with you and hopefully reading your feedback. I don’t consider myself to be a writer by any stretch, so I’ll apologize in advance for any mistakes. November 20th, 2010 It is pretty common that at least a couple nights a week I will tie myself up pleasure myself until I’m ready for a release. This is usually right after my first orgasm but usually depends on how strict I’m bound. You see, I’m a bit of a claustrophobic. I love being bound, but if I think there is a chance that I can’t escape I start to panic. If I’m stimulated the effects are mostly negated which is why I usually need to release myself after an orgasm. ...

The lower floors of the parking garage are completely full, but I find an empty parking space on the third floor in front of a concrete wall and thankfully head into it. It is late Saturday morning so I surmise there are a lot of people shopping. I turn the engine off and try to relax; the journey has been quite interesting. Driving for the first time in my extravagantly high-heeled boots was an initial challenge, and then the two large plugs buried deep inside me increasingly made their presence felt. ...

The events related in this story took place before the Internet made the acquisition of bondage items so incredibly easy. In those sad dark days, bondage aficionados were mostly uninformed, isolated and guilt ridden. The sight of the handcuffs, lying closed in the middle of the flea market table, induced an instant reaction. My throat went dry and I was filled with an absolutely uncontrollable desire to possess them. I had fantasized about owning a pair, but had never expected to be presented with an opportunity. My desire overcame my natural feelings of shyness and I lifted my gaze to the unshaven face of the man sitting behind the table. Seeing that he was watching me, I became embarrassed and looked down at the table once more. I moved my hand towards the handcuffs, not daring to touch them, and said, in a voice thick with emotion, “How much for – the handcuffs?” I could barely get the last word out. ...

I am a master of excuses. I have a long list of excuses I use whenever my family is venturing out for some trip or excursion. Let me explain. I am a 19 year old girl and live with my parents and younger brother. Way younger. Like eight years old. Little rodent of a kid, teasing, loud and just won’t leave me alone. Following me around all day long like I am some awesome computer game! ...

Author's Note: This is more of a report than a story. It is a report about the self-bondage games I play, thus all you will find in here is absolutely non-fiction up to each little detail. Enjoy and take away some inspiration! In the case that you just want to read a self-bondage story, then I kindly would suggest that you go somewhere else. However, you really might miss something. Come on, give it a try! ...