Reluctant

Author's Note: This concept story is in the form of a news article about a FemDom city state. It is an attempt to build a vaguely plausible fictional reality in which other stories could be written. This mostly sets the scene for stories to follow. Following months of requests I was the first international journalist to be granted access to secretive city state of Femina. Femina was one of the many small states to appear following the collapse of the former Russian Federation. It’s apparent stability and prosperity meant it outlived most of the others that appeared in the vacuum of power. However it’s secrecy has led to wild stories and speculation backed up by precious little evidence. ...

Clarissa had always wanted to travel, but as often happens when you live in a small town, your life passes by with the day to day things until you wonder where the time went. As she left the office and got into her car a smile spread across her lips. Glancing at the suitcase in the back seat she started to imagine what awaited her on her cross-country drive. Unusually for one so work obsessed she had decided to take four weeks vacation in one hit, a whole month, she thought. Leaving thoughts of the office behind she put the car into drive, cranked up the radio and set off. ...

Author's Note: I wrote this a few years ago, intending to polish and expand on it a bit more, but it works standalone. If I get around to it, I might write a sequel with the main character, and possibly the shop lady will re-appear as well. This story is purely fictional. Consent is dubious, but this is merely a fantasy. Please practise safe, sane and consensual sex. Christine looked both ways before slipping an item into her purse. She felt a small rush of adrenaline as she quietly walked towards the exit of the store. She’d shoplifted for a while now to combat the increasing boredom of her normal daily routine. This was the first time she’d stolen anything in a sex shop though, she was only recently allowed to go in here having just turned 18 the previous week. She’d been blushing heavily when she entered the store, and in order to get an obstructed view of the register, she’d had to go all the way to the back of the store. Getting there, she hadn’t even looked at the cover of the dvd she pilfered. That wasn’t important. Getting that adrenaline high was. She’d almost gotten out when she heard a female voice behind her. ...

I had set myself a real challenge this time and I was really nervous just thinking about what I was proposing to do to myself. Bit of background first – my name is Jenny, I’m 23, a student, single, brown eyes, short black hair, I have been told I’m not unattractive and I’m pretty fit but I don’t like my nose and my ass is too big – normal female hang-ups I guess. I have been into bondage fantasies since puberty but never told anyone else. So self-bondage was an obvious path and I’ve been playing tie-up games since I was 16. I love the feeling of helplessness when in bondage, as well as the purely physical sensation of ropes and chains digging into my skin or squeezing me tight, which I enjoy immensely. I’m a damsel-in-distress type of girl, always wanting to get myself into perilous situations which I then have to get myself out of. This one was a cracker. ...

When my flat mate suggested tying me up I wondered why. We lived separate lives, she had her friends, I had mine. Sure, we talked, we shared clothes, food and most other things but we did not even sit on a settee together. This suggestion came out of the blue. Her excuse was she needed someone to practice on. Her boyfriend wanted her to tie him up but her initial attempts had proved inadequate. It sounded harmless enough. I of course have never had anything to do with bondage, even as a child. I did have a quick browse through some web sites. What I saw intrigued me. People seem to enjoy being tied up in all sorts of ways, some like pain, others want sexual stimulation and some just want to be restrained. If everything was to be believed it was all done willingly. It takes all sorts I suppose and I was going to join them. It was my choice to allow it or not, and I was going to allow it. It started some very strange feelings inside me. Was it Fear? Or excitement? Or? ...

Author's Note: This is a story about how I used to spend too much time watching football and rushed into a bet that I really should have thought through better. Chapter 1 My girlfriend, Amber, a five-foot, cute-as-a-button, short-haired brunette and I have been going out for about six months and have had a healthy sexual relationship. I love American football and spend every Sunday glued to the TV. So when she came to me last week and said that she would like to be with me more by spending our Sundays watching the NFL together, I was surprised, but also really happy; I thought it would be a great way to spend more time together. ...

Author's Note: This story is about medical bondage. Diapers are used, but it is not the main idea of the story. Instead, the diapers are used as a way to keep Mike locked in his medical bondage that much longer. When Grace died, I thought my world had crashed down around me. We grew up together, were high school sweethearts and continued together into college. I graduated the top of my class and Grace accepted my hand in marriage. We traveled together to Graduate School where I pursued my Masters and Ph.D. Grace worked as a registered home health nurse. We had two children and I started working as a researcher and writer. As the children grew, we played and prayed and weathered the bumps of life and grew ever closer. When the children grew up and left the house for their own lives , Grace and I started playing with each other all over again, just as we had when we were kids. We enjoyed each others laugh and struggles and predicaments. One night, when Grace mentioned she missed having a baby around to feed and diaper and play with, I casually replied, “Well you can always diaper and play with me if you want.” She laughed at that. I didn’t think much more about it. ...

Author's Note: For Miss Patricia Recently online I found Miss Patricia. Other than what her profile states I don’t know much about her. I haven’t even seen a photo of her as her profile has only images of a sub bound in some rather delightful ways. The only description I have of her is that she is 44, 5'5" tall and is African American. Just some of the items listed in her profile include: Orgasm control, chastity, CBT, collars, bondage, queening, canes and crops, blindfolds… wait right there. Blindfolds and masks. That reminds me of one of my most exciting experiences. It involved my previous Mistress Rebekah. She recently moved about 1200 miles away so needless to say I am now available. ...

Author's Note: Our first two stories have been well received and we thank all our readers for their comments and support. There was only one type of criticism in the comments and that was that the story was unrealistic for a few reasons. We agree. We were much more interested in bringing my co-authors darkest fantasies into view. Some fantasies are never meant to become real. But, that being said, this newest story is very realistic to both of us, to the point of being autobiographical in parts, then to depicting many of our fantasies that could easily become real under the right circumstances. I admit we got to the point where we felt and became the characters, or they became us. Let’s just say we became very emotionally invested in what we wrote. No revenge this time. No extreme forced anything. You, the readers, can wonder what parts we have already explored and what parts might be in our future. It will be interesting to see if this realism is what most readers want, or the extreme of the first two stories. ...

Author's Note: A bondage model stops acting and starts living the life of a bound prisoner Part 1 I wake up, very groggy, not remembering the night before. The last thing I remembered, I was at a bondage photo shoot. It was going to be my last shoot since I made enough money to finish paying for college. I was put in a strait jacket while wearing sexy black latex stockings. My ankles were tied together so I was pretty helpless. I playfully struggled as an actress dressed s a nurse pinned me down. She used a Hitachi wand on me. Yet another sat on my legs and tickled my helpless latex encased feet. It was a scene about a mental patient needing an unconventional therapy. I didn’t really buy the premise, but it certainly was fun to act out. I was enjoying myself quite a bit. I love being bound and helpless since I trust the producer a lot. I feel safe when bound and forget all my worries. I love the strait jacket so much I sometimes ask to be left in it after the scene ends for an hour or 2. I was moaning pretty loudly struggling and kicking against the tickling. I love being tickled on my sexy size 6 feet, but still love to struggle and try to resist it. All in a sudden I saw the nurse grab a ball gag. The producer knows my limits and a ball gag is one of them. I always remain able to speak so I can use my safeword. I tried to push them off me and stop the scene but I was pretty helpless. I screamed my safe word which was always respected in the past. They shoved in the gag and lock it behind my head. As I screamed thought he gag, I was no longer enjoying the session and was horrified of what they would do next. The session went from play and me feeling safe to horror. Somehow the horror made the scene so much more intense. On what hand I hated them violating my limit, but on the other hand it was what I always fantasized about. I felt a rag go over my face. That’s the last thing I remembered. ...