0 comments/ 33651 views/ 4 favorites Tighter By: general_amin "Not like that, wrap it around tighter." The cable was snaking around Sarah's ankles and upwards to her thighs. She wanted it coiled around her, so she could feel the plastic gnawing at her naked skin. Somehow, she loved this. "I don't even have to be fucked up for it." The sun was rising and it was making the room warmer, swelling the humidity up past what was already intolerable levels. Sarah's luscious white skin was coated with sweat making the plastic cable slip ever so slightly down her body. It made getting the cord tighter difficult. "Make it tighter, so I can't move. I don't wanna be able to move." The long night had started to make my head hurt, and I slugged back some whiskey to dull the throb in my head. It helped a little, and the trickle of alcohol back into my bloodstream brought my mind back into focus. Running the back of my palm across my forehead and wiping the sweat on to it, I held it out for Sarah. Trussed up and barely able to move, she brought herself forward and inched her tongue across my hand, her mouth greedily gathering up the perspiration. We kissed then, our mouths locked together fiercely, tongues entwined, stars in our eyes. But soon Sarah couldn't hold herself up anymore. Laying back she looked up at me, lust clouding her small face. "You know what to do." I met Sarah at a party, seven hours earlier. The kind where you get so drunk the wall is propping you up. I wasn't that gone though. Not yet anyway. The place, a massive split-level studio, was crammed with famous and semi-famous types, barely recognisable TV presenters, drunken newsreaders, radio broadcasters, musicians…all trying to out personality each other. Frankly, I didn't care for that. Meeting famous people can be cool, though. Especially when some are so drunk you're propping them up. Or when a certain famous person's equally famous wife has her tongue down your throat and your hand is down her pants while fifteen people look on, one of whom is not her husband because he's upstairs with his mouth around some guy's dick. "How did I get here?" "Who cares? have another drink." "Seriously, how did I get here? I don't remember walking in the door." "And you won't remember leaving either." Laughter. Above the babble of voices, Sarah's laugh rose on a pillow of wind. I took a step forward, closer to her. Her eyes stared deep and straight into mine, dark like a pool of pythons. She stopped laughing and closed her mouth, her dark red lips jammed tight together. Sticking her bottom lip out she ran an index finger along it, and then back. For no particular reason it seemed. "So, who do you know here?" she said finally. "Nobody." I took a beer from her hand and tipped half the bottle down my throat. After a few small seconds looking at/through me she spoke again. "Looked to me like you know J's wife pretty well." "I think I know you better than I know her." Taking the bottle off me, Sarah laughed and said, " I'm Sarah." I prised the bottle from her hand, "I know." It was one of those strange things, were you meet someone you've never encountered in your life before and you already know about them. I knew her age. 22. Her birth date. March 6. "Actually it's the seventh but that's pretty weird." Even weirder still, it was a day before mine. If you want to deem this as mere good guess work then that's fine, but the fact is it didn't feel like that it all. As sceptical as I am, I have to submit to this stuff coming from somewhere unconscious. Let's put it this way, with 365 days in a year the odds are quite long of guessing someone's birthday to within a day either side. Age is a little easier, but with some people it can be really hard to tell. Sarah didn't look twenty-two. She looked twenty-three. I can't recall what we talked about, but I know we talked at length. Neither of us were so conceited as to accept or deny this bespoke so-called connection. Whether either of us wanted to believe it to be mystical or whatever I don't know. In truth, what really was at work was probably something more primal. Something like lust. Perhaps it was lust that forced this hand, or maybe it was just pure luck. I'll never know. I guess it doesn't matter in the end. The whole thing felt like a dream, some fantasy I'd conjured up while staring dimly off into space. Yet here I was, at this party where I knew no one, with no idea how I got there, winning bizarre guessing games with someone I'd never met before but felt like I'd known all my life. "It's too hot in here, I feel like I can't breathe." "I know.", I said, lighting a cigarette. I offered Sarah one; she took it, lit it and inhaled in one seamless movement. I didn't even see her lighter. Smoke curled around her long, slender fingers like rope. The room started to fill and Sarah was pressed against me. Her breasts, small and firm, jostled against my arm. I slid my arm around her thin waist and pulled her closer to me. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do. We talked some more. I t was a loose, free flowing conversation that jumped disjointedly from one sentence to the next. The kind you might have on LSD. There were moments when it felt I was tripping. TV personalities sauntered by, and we laughed at them as they milled around trying to look important. Sarah had a line on everyone. We slugged back beers and felt drunk in the heat. Sarah's hand fell into mine and she squeezed it so hard it felt like it might drop off. Her grip was vise like. "Tighter." Sarah made her way through the posing crowd to get more drinks, not that I needed another. My head was starting to swim now, a combination of beer, humid, opressive heat and an ever-increasing crescendo of noise. I've often found that the volume of chatter in an average pub on a Saturday night can make my drunkeness more severe. "Take me for a ride away from places I have known, If I stay around I'll just remember I'm alone There's someone in my memory making me move on, What was grey and hazy is black and white Now I have gone." Minutes passed and crept into what felt like hours. I smoked cigarette after cigarette until my lungs strained for air. The heat soaked into me and the roar of conversation made my head spin. Sarah had not returned. I didn't dare move in case she came back. The problem was, I had to get out of that room. How long had I been standing there? It felt like forever. Fuck it, I thought. She'll find me. I stood near the entrance to the studio; a glassed in foyer lined with bamboo and bonsai. It was empty but in full view of the main room so Sarah could see me and I her. Time was slowing down, crawling. My mind dimmed as I stood there alone, the Technicolor of the room slowly dissolving to monochrome as the realisation snuck into me that no, there was no connection. If there was I'd know instinctively where she was and why she hadn't come back. My brain was bending with the alcohol and possibilities on where Sarah had got to. I decided to look for her. A wave of nausea hit me as I stepped back into the room. I pushed through the crowds of people. J's wife, her tongue down someone else's throat, a bottom shelf rock star or two, groupies and a TV weatherman high on coke. Sarah was nowhere. It was late, I was drunk and felt ill in this heat. Drowning in sweat, I left. The early morning air held the heat. Surveying the streets I found my direction and started to walk. I was a little unsteady, but soon found the walk sobering. The dawn chorus started. My phone rang. I didn't even look at the screen to see who it was. I knew who it was. "How did you know my number?" "I don't know. I'm at home, come over." She didn't even have to give me instructions. I knew where she was. She was just around the corner. Soon I was standing outside her house, a large grey warehouse. There was no need to knock. I pushed the door open and walked down a hallway. I knew where she was. Another door. The dim light of dawn was filtering through some windows high above us. In the half-light of dawn I could see Sarah sitting on the floor. The room was largely empty; a futon on the floor, a low table with a statue of Buddha in its centre. On the floor near Sarah, a bottle of Whiskey, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, a large green ashtray with a half-smoked cigarette and a long length of black plastic chord, laying in a coil. Sarah had on a Chinese style dressing gown, deep red in color that matched her dark eyes and hair. In turn, it matched the carpet, which was a rich burgundy. Sarah's eyes motioned to the statue. I took it from the table and placed it near her. I had this feeling that perhaps the Buddha wouldn't exactly approve of what was unfolding in this large, sparse room. But then again, maybe he would. I knelt behind Sarah and slipped the gown off her shoulders. It fell in a heap. Her hair was soft and as silky as the gown as I ran my fingers through it. My fingers traced an imaginary line down the nape of her neck, continuing down her spine. My lips found the soft, fleshy spot between her ear lobe and jaw. I kissed it, running my tongue down her neck to her shoulder. She sat in silence. My hands ran lightly down her body, across her back and then up her stomach and breasts. I placed a finger in her mouth and she sucked our combined perspration from it. Turning her head, we locked lips in a hungry exchange of tongues. She pulled away abruptly and quickly swung around to face me. I cupped her tits and kissed her again, harder and deeper this time. My forefinger and thumb rubbed her nipples. They were slippery from the heat. It was exciting and electric. We both knew what was coming next. No words were ever needed. Sarah lay back, prone on the floor. I tied the cord off at her ankles and began wending it around her legs and up her naked body. There was easily enough to wrap around her thin frame several times. "Not like that, wrap it around tighter." The cable was snaking around Sarah's ankles and upwards to her thighs. She wanted it coiled around her, so she could feel the plastic gnawing at her naked skin. The sun was rising and it was making the room warmer, swelling the humidity up past what was already intolerable levels. Sarah's luscious white skin was coated with sweat making the plastic cable slip ever so slightly down her body. It made getting the cord tighter difficult. "Make it tighter, so I can't move. I don't wanna be able to move." The long night had started to make my head hurt, and I slugged back some whiskey to dull the throb in my head. It helped a little, and the trickle of alcohol back into my bloodstream brought my mind back into focus. Running the back of my palm across my forehead and wiping the sweat on to it, I held it out for Sarah. Trussed up and barely able to move, she brought herself forward and inched her tongue across my hand, her mouth greedily gathering up the perspiration. We kissed then, our mouths locked together fiercely, tongues entwined, stars in our eyes. But soon Sarah couldn't hold herself up anymore. Laying back she looked up at me, lust clouding her small face. "You know what to do." My mouth found her breasts; the cable nestled up against them pushing them higher. I licked the sweat from her tits, my tongue climbing up-across the cable which tightly bound her-to find the space where the neck meets the breastbone. A pool of perspiration had gathered there and I lapped it eagerly. I removed my clothes. I felt good to be naked in this heat. My dick felt like fire, my balls like they were going to explode. I knelt over Sarah, my knees either side of her tits and began stroking my cock, slowly at first. "I wish there was four of you,." she breathed. As I found a rhythm to my stroking, I increased the tempo. It was clear that Sarah was getting impatient. Her breathing increased in sync with my own. The orgasm rose through my body, starting at my feet. It felt like it could knock me unconcious, such was its force. Cum flew from my cock in hot, thick jets, coating Sarah's tits and neck. Blobs of spunk landed on her chin, several on her cheek. She gasped and let a long sigh escape her lips. She was shaking, like she was coming herself. I kept coming, my dick spasming as the last of the jism spurted onto her body. I don't think I have ever, before or since, cum that much. Sarah was covered in glistening milky white semen. I began to rub it all into her skin, smearing it over her tits and stomach. There was so much that I could scoop it up in globules and spread it all over her bare pussy. As I rubbed the cum over her sex, my fingers ran down her slit-slick with juices-and probed inside. Sarah inhaled sharply as my fingers found the nub of her clit. I pressed down on it, my fingers moving back and forth across her swollen clit. Her breathing indicated the speed of my rubbing and soon-tightly bound and coated in sweat and semen-she convulsed as a tidal wave of orgasm flooded through her body. Drops of rain started to fall against the window. Those large, heavy drops that you get in a summer Sydney downpour. The air was steaming. I untied the cable at Sarah's ankles, loosening it so she could free herself. She stood up and took my hand and together we walked outside into the deserted street. The drops grew fatter and fell faster, until soon we were standing in a subtropical downpour, the rain washing the drying cum from Sarah's body. Pulling her close to me and holding her tight we watched the growing storm. Tightest Wife I'm married, but I still have to masturbate. My wife is really hot, but other than playful butt slaps and missionary sex in the dark once a week, she won't help me get off, ore even let me touch her. I try to encourage more sex and sexual play, but what I encourage, she discourages. I am forced to masturbate. Not as much as I did as a teen, and I do masturbate to my wife sometimes, she is a fox, but none-the-less, I do masturbate. Enough about my sexual agony, I must say some things about my wife. She is affectionate in kissing and cuddling, but not in provocative sexual ways. Basically, she's any man's nightmare. I joke, but it tortures my sexual drive, it's like an episode of the Twilight Zone. My wife finds joy in hard work; she caters and works as a dental technician. Lately she has also been working part-time in the sports office at the local high school. Apparently, they had really grown accustomed to her, and began going to her for help. I was guessing they were just horny high school seniors that wanted to admire her body. At 36 she is as fine as she was a decade ago, and that is very, very fine. But now my wife was organizing a party for the graduating varsity players and their coaches at our house. She asked me not to be here so I wouldn't get in the way. She said it nicer and more delicately, but that was basically what she said. So, about a half hour before the party, I left with some buddies. One of my buddies however tripped in a hole on the way to the bar. He fell pretty hard and we heard a crack. It was sickening to hear, but it didn't look as bad. It was pretty swollen and bruised but no bones sticking out or anything. We brought him to the hospital, and since I was so discouraged from a possible night of fun, I decided to go home. I figured I would just sneak past my wife and the guests go upstairs and nap. I arrived home to the scene of a party already ended: there was an empty punchbowl and paper plates in the garbage, some banners torn down, etc. The party was only a bit over 2 hours old, and my wife was nowhere to be found. I was surprised it had ended so early, but I was determined to follow through with my plan and go upstairs for a nap. As I reached the top step, I heard my wife banging around moving things in the bedroom. Uh-oh, I thought, maybe it didn't go well. But as I neared the door, It sounded like somebody else was in there, and there was quiet conversation. I looked in to see she was still entertaining guests. Her, 4 older seniors, a female employee from the health office, and the head coach were sitting in respective spots around the room in a basic circle with a folding card table in the middle. I noticed that most of them were in various states of undress. My wife was no longer wearing her blouse, and her bra-clad breasts lay there exposed. I was shocked. Also the health office lady sat there in panties, trying to stretch her tight shirt over her panties, and the coach was wearing nothing but briefs to expose his obvious erection. But, they weren't having an orgy or anything, just sitting around. I realized then they were playing strip poker. "I got nothing," My wife groaned as she threw her cards down. Her hand was the lowest, meaning she had to take off an article of clothing. But apparently the way they were playing, the highest hand had to take it off them. In this case it was a horny senior. He made sure to grope and admire her butt as he unzipped the skirt and slid it down her long sexy legs. Then she sat back down as the next hand was dealt. I continued to watch, feeling no reason not to, and it was so innocent, I felt no reason to interrupt. After a few more hands, your wife has the best hand and the coach has the worst. A smile spread across her red lips as she bent over, her panty clad as waving in the air, hooked her thumbs on his briefs and yanked downward. Coach's relatively small 5 inches sprang outward, nearly hitting my darling wife in the chin as she bent to yank them down to his ankles. She stared down at the cock-head in front of her face. It stared back up at her. It looked almost like love at first sight. She did something there that I would have never expected. She bent lower and wrapped her devil-lips around his shaft and began to suck. As her head began to bob, everyone else got up from their seats... seemingly in outrage. But it turns out they just wanted to get in on the action. The health secretary lays on her back on the bed and spreads her legs wide. One of the seniors placed himself between her legs and began kissing and licking her panty clad sweet spot. Another began to play with her breasts, and unhooking her bra. Soon, she was topless. The senior by her chest was mounting the gap between her relatively large breasts, dripping a big gob of spit in there for lubrication. The other senior was working her near an orgasm with his mouth and fingers. After she was done screaming and coming, he whipped out his dick and nearly ripped her panties off while removing them. He then proceeded to mount her, grabbing onto her widespread legs for support. The other two seniors were removing my wife's panties, one below her and one above. The one below then guided her pussy to sit on his cock. I was surprised, not only did she not object, but also she kept right on sucking off coach. She began to bounce rapidly up and down on his cock after she got settled, but the other guy slowed her down so he could stick his dick in her ass. I refused to believe she would allow that, and she's my gal, she did just as I predicted and pushed him away with one hand, blocking her anus. But, she still never failed to shock me, grabbing hold of his cock and guiding it to her nearly already full vagina. Together, the two... I dare say homoerotic seniors slowly slid simultaneous shafts into her stretching pussy. She began screaming bloody murder with pain and ecstasy washed over her, and the coach began shooting his wad right into her huge O-shaped mouth. Soon the two boys under her were also grunting and letting loose their juices to blend with my wife's. All three of them collapsed in a heap after their ultralarge orgasms. My wife at that point was basically senseless. Coach took advantage by sticking the head of his member onto her anal ring, and pushing. Soon he had a steady rhythm, and my wife, starting to regain her wits, was soon yelling out of pain. Another surprise occurred as the anal assault continued and my wife's yells of pain transformed into yells for more. Soon, she was bucking her ass to meet every thrust. Then the coach trusted hard and stayed there, and my wife went wild. I knew he was coming, and soon they were both asleep next to the corpses of the two lucky seniors that got my wife's pussy. On the other side, the health secretary had finished off both of her men, and both were too tired to continue. Her body was covered in ropes of sperm. I decided now would be the best time to get in on the action and stepped in to confront the health secretary... and my wife when she wakes up. But- first thing's first. Tightlaced for a Gay Evening For as long as Peter could remember, he'd liked wearing women's underwear. Now in his mid 20s, he wore his own panties every day. He got them in UK size 8 or 10, and always made in Lycra so that they gripped his groin, bottom and testicles nice and hard. Usually black but sometimes white. Over the past year he'd been exploring other items of feminine underwear, including panty-girdles and waist-cinchers. He had a number of deep suspender belts which he wore with Lycra support stockings under his socks and trousers. He realised that they were a real and important fetish for him. Without being "dressed up suitably" he couldn't masturbate to a proper ejaculation. In addition, he'd started experimenting with ball stretching. After a few months, he'd got his scrotum contained in a 50 mm stainless steel collar behind his testicles, so that they stood out under his groin. The latest collar weighed 500 grams, over a pound in weight, and was beginning to draw his scrotal sac into an elongated shape inside his left trouser leg. Quite soon now, he thought he'd be able to go up to the 75 mm collar with its weight of 800 grams, almost two pounds. He wore the 50 mm weight all day and every day until he got back from the office and then he's shower and clean the weight before fixing it back for the night. He didn't know where this particular fetish was going but he knew that he's push it further in the future, until his scrotum was longer than he could imagine. Sometimes in his dreams, his testicles hung down to his knees inside his trouser leg, with a long sleeve to hold them in place. Sometimes Peter ventured out in the evenings to the pub with his friends and was always very careful not to "show any evidence", so he wore loose trousers and his shirt outside, not tucked into this waist. He's been on a few weekend trips with his office friends, and was convinced that his secret was his alone, and he'd return to his apartment for his final pleasure with a massive ejaculation. He never once thought of himself as homosexual, but knew that he could easily be a practicing transvestite if the opportunity presented itself in a group of friends who shared the same likings. But, for the time being, he was happy and content to enjoy himself by himself, surrounded by his collection of feminine foundation wear. He'd had a girlfriend for a year but she'd found someone she preferred and walked out a few months back. He'd told her of his own underwear fetish but also asked her to dress in classical styles with girdles and other items of corsetry, which she'd refused. "Maybe that's why she left," he surmised to himself, "I'm sure there's a girl out there who likes old fashioned underwear and will wear them for me." He didn't seem to think it necessary to include in his specification an acceptance for him to wear corsetry, as well as being keen herself. In fact, Peter's former girlfriend had said as she left, "Do you know what a turnoff it's been for me to lie in bed next to a man dressed like a woman?" Now, months later, his memory had submerged that conversation because he didn't know how to handle its implications for the rest of his life. Last week, he'd received his latest very special item: a black satin back-laced corset in waist size 22 inches; 12 inches less than his natural waist. It had been delivered in yesterday's post, left at his apartment door in an anonymous long brown paper parcel. He couldn't wait to try it on after work that evening. In fact, he was so preoccupied during the day that many conversations went completely over his head. He heard only a fraction of what was said to him, so captivated was he with the prospect of lacing himself into the corset that evening. "Do you want to come out with my bunch, this evening?" Alastair, one of his work mates, had asked, "We're going for a drink first, and then we thought we'd find some entertainment." "No thanks, I've got something on this evening," Peter replied absent-mindedly. "Ooooh; someone nice, I hope," Alastair teased him. "No, just something I need to do," he was still serious because his mind was elsewhere. In his underwear drawer, in fact, where he imagined the corset waiting for him. "I've been watching you, you know, and I'm worried about you, Peter," the other came closer and spoke more softly, "you're alone too much. It's not good for you. You should have company -- the kind of company that would suit your personality and the things you like. Yeah?" "I'm fine," he'd replied, "I like to be alone sometimes." He hoped the other would drop the subject but no. "Well, I think you should share more of yourself with people like you. You'd enjoy it, you know? There's lots of guys just like you and they'd be good company. Why not come out one evening?" pressed Alastair. "Yeah. One evening. Thanks." "Shall we come round this evening for you? I can promise you a really good time. We'll laugh a lot and enjoy the same things. You'll see." "Another time, thanks." At the end of the day, he could hardly wait to get the train home, and he actually ran to the underground station. He didn't notice a small group of other men his age walking behind him, and keeping pace to catch the same train, but in another car. All the way home, he thought only of the corset and the long process he'd go through to undress and fit it onto himself. The small group was with him all the way to the front door of his apartment block but they stopped just out of sight, as if waiting for something or someone. In his apartment, Peter did exactly as he'd planned. Taken off the suit and revealed his delightful underwear. That day it had been a nice deep white suspender belt, black support stockings, and a pair of Lycra full briefs size 8 that had held him firm and excited all day. As he took the panties off, and then each stocking, and finally undid the six hooks of the suspender belt, he surveyed himself in the long mirror. He could see the marks on his skin where the underwear had pressed lines into his flesh. He turned sideways and looked carefully at his profile. He was in good shape but not athletic; trim but not small or emaciated; and his erection was standing out as if in appreciation of his own sexuality and of the pleasure to come. He released the scrotal collar and cleaned himself and it, before replacing it. His testicles hung down by two inches below his growing his erection. This was his evening routine for pleasure and excitement. He could wait no longer. He emptied his bowels to make room for the corset's constriction. He took it out of the drawer, laid it open on the bed, and pulled the laces a little more open so that it should fit around him easily. He lifted it in both hands and swirled it round his back, so that he could catch one half and connect up the top peg on the busk front. Then he connected up the others, all six of them, until it was in place. He'd imagined this process and the feeling for weeks, since he'd ordered the corset. But now the sensations were better than his imagination. He reached around to grab the laces and began to pull the middle of the corset together and then a little at the top and then the bottom. Although he had no personal experience of corset-lacing, he'd read hundreds of articles and advice sections on fetish sites. All went smoothly until the corset was about four inches away from closure at the waist and he stopped. He'd read that corsets need to warm up and become adapted to your shape before being finally and tightly laced. Anyway, he wasn't sure if he could close the corset all the way, with a twelve-inch reduction in his waist. He'd heard that six inches was the most anyone should try. He stopped his tightening, wrapped the lace around his waist just once, tied a bow and went to the mirror, and his erection went before him. He was stiff and enormous. He couldn't remember ever being so excited and heavily stiff, and he looked forward to the giant ejaculation that would come later. He felt at the smooth satin fabric and the hardness of the bones set into the corset; no fewer than twelve of them, six each side, and the hard steel busk at the front. He traced the position of some bones with his finger tips and marvelled at the tension in the fabric between them and over his body. At the back he felt at the gap remaining between the eyelets. He ran his fingers under the bottom edge to feel how it gripped his thighs and his groin. At the back, he did the same to feel the corset settling tightly over the top of his buttocks. He was so excited: his erection was massive and pointing upwards, which didn't happen often with Peter. Whilst at the mirror, he placed his hands on his waist and pressed. To his delight, he could feel the corset give a little more under just the force of his fingers and thumbs. "More," he thought, "tighter still." And so there, in front of the mirror, he undid the lace knot, stretched out his arms and pulled a little harder on the laces. The waist of the corset shrank further and he could feel the hardness on his skin as his insides were compressed. He was conscious of being slightly breathless, and tied off the laces again. His bottom felt as though there was a big ball inside of him, trying to get out. His ribs were contained and pressed, and he wondered how long he could take such constriction to his breathing. There came a ring on his doorbell. "Aw, fuck," he thought, not wanting to be disturbed tonight of all nights. He grabbed his dressing gown off his bed, went to the door, and looked through the spyhole. It was Alastair from the office. Should he pretend not to be in? Not possible, because Alastair was waving at him through the spyhole, so he must have seen the change of light through the glass. Alastair knocked on the door to reinforce the ring of the bell. There was nothing for it but to open the door and send Alastair away. He undid the bolt, twisted the lock and opened the door a little: just enough that Alastair would see the dressing gown. "Allie!" he feigned surprise, "I'm just getting in the shower, and I can't come out this evening, like I said." Alastair just smiled and then something happened that took Peter by surprise; so much so that he was momentarily totally unaware of what was going on around him and hardly conscious. He was lifted off his feet by hands that seemed to appear from nowhere. Five or six or more men grabbed him and carried him back into his apartment. He opened his mouth in fear and anger but he could get out of his lungs only an initial, "Argh." Immediately someone crammed a hard ball into his mouth and tied it in place with straps around his head. One strap each side, under his ears, and two more that went up over his eyes and fastened with the others at the back in some form of clasp. He heard the harsh clunks, as they were each fitted into a clip device. He could make only the slightest noise but realised that the ball had at least one hole through it so that he could breathe. He tried calling out again but the sound was muted and contained no words. He could see only a little round the sides of the head straps. In front of him, other men were erecting a tall tripod of steel tubes; each as thick as his arm, taller than himself and with the feet about a metre apart on the floor. His hands were cuffed and attached to the top point of the tripod, stretching him slightly. His ankles were both attached to the feet of two of the arms of the tripod, spreading him widely. His erection disappeared within a few seconds as he realised that he was at the mercy of these men. "Don't need this," said Alastair and got hold of the bottom edge of his dressing gown. It was made of cotton and Alastair simply ripped it up from the bottom edge and over his shoulder blades. Then with a great heave, he tore it off Peters shackled body, so that it disintegrated in his Alastair's hands and he flung it to the far end of the room. Peter could just see it flying through the air, and falling in a heap. He was naked except for the tight corset and the ball collar. All this happened in less time than it takes to tell it, and Peter looked around himself at the first opportunity, squinting past the straps over his eye brows. He couldn't see how many men were there but they were all young, about his age, and healthy looking, and some of them were naked already. In his splayed-out position, he could easily fall forward into the gap of the tripod but he couldn't exert any force to move the tripod. He was forced to stand stiffly on his stretched legs and press his fettered hands onto the top joint to stop himself from falling. He wondered how long he could stand like this before collapsing out of tension and exhaustion. Then he felt a man's hands reach around his corseted waist and pull him slightly backwards and upwards, and that took some of the strain off his legs. For a moment he felt relieved and grateful, but only for a moment. Another pair of hands reached under his bottom, forced his buttocks apart and slowly fed something into his rectum. He tried to squirm and shout but he was held firmly by the corset and silenced by the ball gag. Something cold was being squeezed into his bowels. He stood still as it snaked up into him, feeling the coldness and wondering what it was. Then an object was removed from him and the remaining coldness was obviously a fluid of some kind. The man holding his waist pulled him even further backwards so that his hands were straining at the top of the tripod. He felt something else pushing at his anal orifice and realised that the man was entering him. The entry was tight but smooth and lubricated, and he felt a moment of panic before the penis popped through the muscle into his waiting interior. The man kept him stretched backwards against the bonds at his feet and hands, and gradually penetrated to the full length of his penis. Slowly, he was fucked in and out and, to his embarrassment, his own penis began to swell again. He wanted to look down to see what was happening to him, but his position stopped any such movement. "Oh, Jesus, he's tight," groaned the man as he revelled in his invasion of Peter's entrails. Whilst the man was slowly fucking his bowels, Alastair came to his front and took hold of his testicles and their steel collar. He pressed downwards to the floor and Peter felt his skin lengthened and the pain inside his scrotum, as his urethra and spermatic cords were stretched almost to breaking. "What's this, Peter?" asked Alastair, "two inches? By the time we go, your balls'll be on the carpet. How long did this one take you, Peter? Six months? A year? Tonight you'll get a real surprise. Won't that be exciting for us all? But a bit uncomfortable for you. And you'll never be a father after tonight." He attached something heavy to the steel collar; really heavy and Peter thought his scrotum would be ripped off his body, leaving him with a gaping bloody hole in his groin. He screamed into the gag, wanting to say, "No, no, no." "Don't worry Peter, we know what we're doing. Your balls will still be attached but somewhere down there." And he pointed down with his forefinger in Peter's limited vision. The man in his rectum was coming to his climax and making grunting noises. His penis was swollen to a gigantic size. "Oh fucking fucking fuck. He's good and tight. This is it. Here I come. NOW." And his ejaculation poured into Peter's intestines. The coldness of the lubricant was replaced with the boiling heat of the man's sperm and seminal fluids. Immediately, the man pulled out and another replaced him, also holding onto his corseted waist. Not so big but not so smooth or controlled either. He just plunged straight in and started fucking at a furious pace. "Hey, watch out, go easy with him. Don't break him up. We all want to fuck him so don't wreck him so soon," Peter heard Alastair's voice and was scared by what he heard. "Break me up? Wreck me? What the hell are they intending to do with me?" were his thoughts. The man inside him had no stamina and came to his orgasm quickly, to Peter's relief. No one replaced him but he felt the corset laces being untied and then tightened. Whoever was doing it knew what he was about: starting at the top and then the bottom edge of the corset, and finally at the waist, much greater pressure was put on Peter's figure. He didn't know if the corset was closed but his breathing and even swallowing became more difficult. He waved his head from side to side and mumbled into the gag but to no avail. Everyone ignored him as if he weren't there as a person - only as a piece of sex equipment that they'd all use eventually. At the same time as a third man pressed up against his anus, Alastair came to his testicles and held up before his eyes a longer weight than the 50 mm version he was wearing when they started. This one looked to be 4 inches long; 100 mm. Alastair smiled into his face and said, "Let's see if you can take this one yet, Peter." He reached down and attached a leather harness with a great metal weight at the bottom of the tie. It felt as if it would be 10 or 20 pounds in weight; 5 or 10 kilos. Peter felt as if his entire body was being stretched out through his groin. Alastair fiddled with the collar key, and slipped the shorter weight off. Without a fraction of a second passing by, he slipped the 4-inch metal collar around Peter's stretched scrotum and fastened it with the key. He clearly knew all about this process because he was very careful not to catch any skin or fat or even hairs in the fastening. The harness and the massive weight were left in place, slowly tugging Peter's testicles and scrotum towards the carpet. A fourth man got hold of Peter's waist and pressed into his rectum. By now, the passage was lubricated liberally with the original cold grease and who-knows-how-much sperm and sexual fluids. He felt the man enter and also his movements against his prostate, so that his own juices began to flow a little to the tip of his penis. Once more, his erection started to develop. Behind him, he felt a commotion, as if a group of people were holding onto his shoulders and his hips, and jostling for position near him. Then he felt another object pressing against his anus whilst the first was still inside him. He knew they were going to double penetrate him and tried to struggle free and shout. It was Alastair that came to his rescue. "Hey, you two. Fucking well don't burst him open; Okay? We all want some, you know. Let him get used to us first. I don't want his guts all over the floor." "But Allie," said one of them, "we'll take him easy. You'll see. Like we did the Chinese guy - remember? We did okay with him, didn't we?" "Okay," said Alastair, "But if you burst him open, or knock him out you be sorry. Okay?" The two resumed their penetration until they were both inside Peter's rectum and slowly pumping away together. He realised that the first man was leaning backwards and the second was standing on two piles of papers and books, to straddle the first. They both took him and he felt their orgasms, close together, and the squirt of their juices past their two penises that couldn't block up the hole they were making of his anus. As they left him he ached from his knees to his ribs with the strain of their exertions, the discomfort of their plunging into him and the ferocious tightness of his corset. Peter was beginning to weaken by this time. He leaned forward so that his thighs rested on the uprights of the tripod, and his head on his forearms as they were held together at the top. He wondered how long he could stay standing and not buckle at his knees and then just hang from the tripod. He had a mental picture of himself slumped under it. He enjoyed just a few moments of thought, stillness and relaxation before another man grabbed his waist, leaned backwards and entered him. This man reached round and pushed down on the scrotum weight, so that Peter once again felt as if his testicles would be wrenched clear off his groin. Tightlaced for a Gay Evening This man was noisy; "oh, bloody fucking hell, he feels good. Let me fuck into his waist." And he ground himself against Peter's buttocks as if to squeeze his balls inside also, in his desire to reach up into the corseted part of Peter's body. "Now he'll feel me. Won't you little man? Get this. Yes. Yes. Now. NOW. Aaargh." He pulled at Peter so hard that his own feet left the floor and he was hanging on Peter's body whilst stuffing his own body and his juices as high as he could into those bowels. With a final "Aaargh," he withdrew and collapsed on a chair. In the same moment the man had climaxed and poured his juices into Peter, someone came to the front and knelt in front of the weight and leaned on it. In the same moment, Peter felt the fullness behind and the extra stretch at the front. His anus was now so weakened that it couldn't retain the contents of his rectum, and there was a steady flow of fluid dripping from him. He would have groaned in his discomfort and embarrassment if he could have made a worthwhile sound. He just hung his head and sobbed. Alastair came into his vision and held up a long leather tube with a series of clips all along it. Peter guessed it was fifteen or sixteen inches long. "Ball time," he smiled and reached down, and others gathered round with their sweaty shiny naked bodies, to watch the process. "John, come and put your foot in there," instructed Alastair, and this John cam and placed his foot in the loop formed by the rope that held the weight. "Stand on it, John, and see how much of your weight it'll take." John pressed down into the stirrup of the rope, and Peter was now sure his scrotum would be torn out of his body. He was aware of two sensations: first, a gradual numbness from his groin down to the end of his grotesquely extended scrotum; second, a pulling and squeezing inside the scrotum itself. Alastair removed the heavy weight whilst his scrotum became stretched even further, and started to strap the long leather jacket around the purple and strained flesh. It wouldn't fit along its full length, so he said to John, "Press down some more. Stand on it with your full weight. I don't care what happens now." John stood off the floor with one foot in the loop of rope. Peter heard and waited for his groin to be shredded as his skin and flesh parted company. Suddenly, he felt something stretch inside the fantastic scrotum and then with a piercing pain he felt the object give way, and then the same sensation again as a second one did the same. Alastair noticed it on the outside. "Oh dear, Peter, spermatic cords both snapped. Goodbye babies, I'm afraid, but you'll see what we can do now. Wow!" he exclaimed, "see this extension. Wow." Peter felt a relaxation in his scrotum and knew that he was now being stretched even further. As if to confirm the fact, Alastair clipped the long leather collar onto his monstrous scrotum. By now his erection had subsided because of his anxiety and discomfort, but he could feel his testicles resting bizarrely against his left knee. "There," said Alastair, "now we're all jealous. All that's left now is take in your waist a little - well, a lot really - and then I'll take my time with you. Try to relax, Peter. We'll do all the action, won't we?" and he looked around amid laughter, "My turn now." With that, he came around Peter's back and slapped him gently on the right buttock. Before anything else, he undid the corset laces and held them out either side, to two other men who took hold. "When I say, you both pull 'til I tell you to stop. Okay?" "Okay," they replied in unison. He positioned himself behind Peter, got hold of the corseted waist and slowly penetrated the bruised but slick anus. Then he nodded to the lace-holders, "Now, steady pull against each other." Peter felt the twin sensations of his bowels being filled again with male meat, and his waist being reduced until he felt as if the front steel clasp of the corset was touching his spine at the back. His breathing became laboured, he had a ringing in his ears, his vision began to lose colour and become monochrome, and his legs began to buckle at the knees. Behind him, Alastair kept up a strong pull at his waist so that he shouldn't fall forward and collapse. His legs were kept straight and his knees rigid by Alastair's strength, as he plunged in and out of the slippery rectum. All this time, Peter could feel his elongated scrotum and his balls knocking against his knees, and his waist becoming numb with the pressure on his skin and restriction of his blood supply. As he felt Alastair's orgasm growing, as the penis became stiffer and bigger, and the rhythm more urgent, Alastair suddenly spoke in a voice husky with his excitement, "Now, pull hard. Bring me the laces." Peter felt that he would be cut in half, as the corset suddenly closed to its minimum waist that he knew was only 22 inches as Alastair tied off the laces behind the back of the corset. He felt faint and was only just aware of Alastair's enormous ejaculation, with its stiffness and heat. Alastair held onto him for a few seconds longer, and kept up the tension on his body so that Peter's legs didn't give way. Eventually, he pulled out of the dripping orifice, let go of Peter and the collapse started. Peter knew he was falling, that his legs had given up trying to stay straight, and that his vision was blacking out. He didn't even hear the command in Alastair's voice, "Take him down now, and lay him here." Peter revived as he was lowered to the carpet, onto his big bath towel. He looked about him and saw ten faces looking down at him. He tried to breathe but his chest was still bound up to crushing point in the corset. He put his hand to his waist and felt the hardness, and the curvature. Then he put both hands to the gag in his mouth and tried to remove it, reaching round the back of his head to the fastener. Alastair pointed and one of the others came and did it for him. He let his jaw relax and swallowed and swallowed again. Alastair gave him a glass of something, so he raised himself on one elbow and took a long drink. "Now Peter, let's show what you've become," said Alastair with a grin. Some of the men lifted him to his feet and part-lifted, part-propelled him towards his long wall mirror. The mirror in which he's viewed himself so many hours ago. He stood there looking at himself as if the reflection wee a stranger. Here he saw a man with red swollen eyes and unruly hair, and bruised lips. He was standing with his feet a little apart because he couldn't put them together against the discomfort in his anal region. It was as if he wanted to keep his buttocks apart. The reflection had the smallest waist he'd ever seen on a human being and it was his. He knew it was his but couldn't believe it. He pressed his hands to his waist again and could reach almost all the way round with his fingers and thumbs. He caught a glance of Alastair watching him from one side and didn't know what to say or do. "Delightful," said Alastair, "and fucking sexy." It was then he saw his testicles at the end of the long leather tube, swinging around his knees as he moved. Now he was scared. What had they done to him? What injury? Would he ever be the same as he was? He reached down to hold the leather tube and felt it stiff with its clips. Because of the corset, he couldn't reach all the way to his testicles but he swung out the tube and saw them red and swelling at the end. He looked sideways at Alastair and spoke in a fearful voice, "What'll happen to me? Will they be like this from now?" "I hope so," smiled Alastair, "but they'll shrink back a bit if you take it off. Shall I take it off now?" Peter realised that the novelty and sexiness of his situation was dawning on him only now. "No, leave it for now," he said and Alastair's grin became a big guffaw. "Ho ho ho, now see what he's become. You're one of us - only better than us, Peter." After that, the group cleaned up and dressed and left. An hour later, Peter was alone again after 7 hours of being used and stretched and squeezed. The scrotum jacket was still in place but the corset had been let out to a more-reasonable 26 inches. He was almost comfortable and had emptied his bowels four times in as many minutes after Alastair left. Soon he'd undress and shower. He knew that his life had started over again, but had they assaulted him or liberated him? He couldn't decide. What direction was he to take in his new life? Tightly Bound Ch. 01 The low hum of the lights broke through Erin's deep slumber. Groaning she tried to open her eyes but couldn't, only to be faced with nothing but the blackness around her, she knew instinctively that it was bright outside as she could feel it. Panic swept through her body as she tried to move her legs, they were secured by something strong, spreading her legs apart, her arms too were secured at the back of her head as she struggled against the bonds that imprisoned her, wriggling this way, then that. She opened her mouth to talk but found that it was dry and coarse, nothing escaping her mouth except a thin raspy sound which she presumed to be her voice. Worry began to plague her thoughts as she frantically searched her memory in vain attempt to piece together all that was missing from the night before. It was coming back slowly, although only in fragments. What happened last night? She faintly remembered it, it was a clear night and she had agreed to go out with her friends to celebrate the end of her exams. They had made their way too a new uptown club giddy and light headed from the alcohol they had consumed. The club was up beat, with an industrial theme as stainless steel, black and aluminum decorated the interior. Wordless music filled their ears as they made their way inside, the rhythm of the music entrancing their bodies as they moved in time to the music. A great sea of bodies moving as one. It was here that she had first met the mysterious man on the dance floor whom she found so captivating with his clear eyes and flawless physique. He moved like silk through the maelstrom of people, moving effortlessly in time to the music as it pulsed continuously in the background. A twist of fate perhaps, luck was on Erin's side that night as she accidentally bumped into him on the dance floor. They danced together synchronised as the music continued to play dimly in the background now as all the sound washed away except for the sound of the two of them, breathing. Eyes entranced and locked upon one another as they continued to dance, their bodies moving synonymously like two leaves linked together caught in a whirlwind. Dancing interlinked, intertwined yet separate at the same time. Stray hands slid down the back of Erin's bare back as he whispered a suggestion was all the excuse needed to leave the dance floor and her friends. Her heart losing a beat as he looked into her eyes, losing herself in them. Vivid green, they were untamed. The night moved on rather quickly, or so it seemed to Erin after making an excuse to her friends she left, leaving them green eyed with envy still feeling light headed from the whole ordeal. There was more working here that night besides alcohol, it was chemistry. Lights blurred as they moved through the streets at high speeds, his sports car moving effortlessly through the traffic as the engine whined for more. Like a restrained dog on a leash. He whispered to her then, his voice sounding like the wind rustling outside, interlinked with nature and Co-existing in so many ways. His voice was barely audible yet it was deep and rumbling like the thunder as he suggested a place for a drink. She had agreed, the numerous martini's making her head feel like it was full of cotton wool and blurring her common sense as the world began to spin, the colours beginning to blur into one colour. Black. The last thing she had remembered was her stumbling step, falling into him then nothing. Frantically Erin tried to remember what happened after that but her mind drew up a blank. The sound of muffled footsteps approached and she stopped struggling, lowering her breathing to shallow breaths to minimise the movement of her bound body. The smell of breakfast filled the room as she felt his presence move about the room, opening the blinds bringing in the sunlight with it. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her face even though she couldn't see it. Movement was heard closer towards her as her blindfold was carefully removed. His hands felt soft and fragrant as it trailed across her cheek, warm and comforting. Not the kind of hands that she would have expected from a murderer or kidnapper. She waited with eyes closed until she heard the footsteps fade away in the distance. Squinting her eyes she slowly opened them. Everything was hazy and blurry as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, eventually things began to focus and she was able to look at her surroundings. She was in a basement of sorts; a window near the ceiling provided the illumination for the room as she looked out at the blue sky. She was tied to a bed by handcuffs, her legs bound by leather cuffs, which joined onto chains connected to the corners of the bed. She was still fully clothed from what she was wearing from last night so at least she wasn't faced with the indignity of her own nakedness. Erin looked around the rest of the room in fright. The rest of the room was equipped with an assortment of instruments that looked like it was designed to inflict pain as she shuddered looking at one particular instrument consisting of a wooden circle with cuffs at each corner. What kind of mess have I gotten myself into? Erin wondered to herself as a chill began to creep up her spine. Movement from the landing above caused her to close her eyes again, squinting so she could see out of the small crevices. A tall brunette began to descend down the stairs carrying a tray with a glass of water (presumedly) on it. She was a beautiful figured girl with long black hair tied back to a ponytail, her fringe cut straight across her forehead. Her complexion was pale with her small dark eyes framing her delicately sculptured face. She descended the stairs without so much as a whisper and walked over to Erin her feet gliding noiselessly against the concrete floor. Erin closed her eyes and pretended to be unconscious as she neared. She heard the tray being placed upon the bedside table and somebody climb upon the bed towards her. A soft hand stroked her cheek, the same one that had earlier, the familiar feeling and fragrance of the hand coming back to mind. She squinted her eyes peering out through the small crevices caused by her eyelids and saw the brunette staring at her face intently. Shit! The brunette continued to stroke her cheek, her hand gliding down her face like satin on velvet. Erin opened her eyes fully and blinked a few times to readjust to the light. Looking at this strange woman kneeling in front of her. Erin and the woman stared at each other for an extended period of time until the woman reached over with the glass of water offering it to Erin. Erin gulped down the water noisily as the woman held the glass until all of it was finished. The feeling of liquid quenching her parched vocal chords causing her to choke slightly, droplets of water splattering her chin. Leaning back the woman looked at her smiling warmly, without a word she picked up a new napkin and dabbed the few droplets of water spilt on Erin's chin. "Where am I?" Erin questioned the strange woman who had now dropped the napkin and was busily picking up the tray of breakfast by the bedside table. The woman turned back and beckoned towards the tray before her, asking with her eyes if she wanted any breakfast. Erin shook her head and asked her question again in case the brunette didn't comprehend what she was saying. "Where am I?" Erin asked again, a small note of urgency in her voice as it trembled slightly. The brunette looked at Erin smiling. She pressed a finger against Erin's mouth and got up out of the bed. "Master vill be home soon, he vill be pleased to see that you are awake and vell." The brunette said her voice rich and exotic, heavy with enunciation; perhaps she is Russian, Erin thought to herself as she picked up the tray and empty glass, walking back up the stairs noiselessly. Erin sighed to herself and closed her eyes once again, drifting back to an uneasy dreamless deep sleep. Erin woke; it was dark around her as before. But it was not any sound that had woken her as she strained her ear to listen for any sound but rather a presence in the room. She did not know if it was 'him' of course or that he was even in the room in the first place. But she felt its power emanating nearby like a radiator giving off heat. Its presence both frightened her and excited her. A barely audible click was heard and the room was bathed in light instantly. Erin squinted her eyes shut, the brightness of the light causing her to wince slightly. When she opened her eyes she saw him standing at the foot of the bed, arms on hips as he stared at her with cold eyes. Erin shuddered inwardly; she recognised the look in his eyes as she had only seen it a few times in her life. It was the look of malice. "Who are y-you?" Erin croaked, tired and afraid of whom she saw before her. There was silence as he continued to stare at her unblinkingly. Erin felt a chill travel up her spine as she stared back at him. When he spoke his voice was deep and powerful, with thick intonation. "I am your master, for when you came home with me you became my property. You are my slave and will do as my bidding until I see fit. Do you understand?" The words drove home straight to Erin's heart. Despair began to fill her then when she realised that she was not just kidnapped she was imprisoned. He continued to stare at her with that cold stare, looking up at him she nodded her head solemnly. "Good. I am glad that we are on the same level of understanding. I shall call you Elizabeth like my last slave, I think that is a rather fitting name as she looks quite similar to you or should I say 'looked' similar to you." Finished with his little confession, master smiled vehemently and turned on his heel to leave. Anger boiled up within Erin and before she could control her emotions she screamed out an angry retort at the master, in a blink of an eye he turned around took three large strides towards Erin and slapped her hard in the face. Tears welled up inside Erin as she felt the sting in her cheek; she managed to suppress her tears as she stared back at him defiantly. His eyes were cold as he leaned in close to her ear as if sharing a secret with her. "Never answer back to me slave. Don't make the same mistake that Elizabeth did and maybe you might just live to tell another day." He hissed in her ear threateningly. Turning on his heel he strode off noiselessly. A faint click in the distance and the room was plunged back into darkness. Erin closed her eyes even though it was dark and wept. Gradually she became sleepy and drifted off into sleep, a place where she could escape, a place where she was free. Tightly Bound Ch. 01 The low hum of the lights broke through Erin's deep slumber. Groaning she tried to open her eyes but couldn't, only to be faced with nothing but the blackness around her, she knew instinctively that it was bright outside as she could feel it. Panic swept through her body as she tried to move her legs, they were secured by something strong, spreading her legs apart, her arms too were secured at the back of her head as she struggled against the bonds that imprisoned her, wriggling this way, then that. She opened her mouth to talk but found that it was dry and coarse, nothing escaping her mouth except a thin raspy voice which she presumed to be her voice. Worry began to plague her thoughts as she frantically searched her memory in vain attempt to piece together all that was missing from the night before. It was coming back slowly, although only in fragments. What happened last night? She faintly remembered it, it was a clear night and she had agreed to go out with her friends to celebrate the end of her exams. They made their way too a new uptown club giddy and light headed from the alcohol they had consumed. The club was up beat with an industrial theme as stainless steel, black and aluminum decorated the interior. Wordless music filled their ears as they made their way inside, the rhythm of the music entrancing their bodies as they moved in time to the music. A great sea of bodies moving as one. It was here that she had first seen the mysterious man on the danc efloor whom she found so captivating with his clear eyes and flawless physique. He moved like silk through the maelstrom of people, moving effortlessly in time to the music as it pulsed continuously in the background. A twist of fate perhaps, luck was on Erin's side that night as she accidentally bumped into him on the dance floor. They danced together synchronised as the music continued to play dimly in the background now as all the sound washed away except for the sound of the two of them, breathing breathlessly. Eyes entranced and locked upon one another as they continued to dance, their bodies moving synonymously like two leaves linked together caught in a whirlwind. Dancing interlinked, intertwined yet separate at the same time. A stray hand sliding down the back of Erin's bare back and a whispered suggestion was all the excuse needed to leave the dance floor and her friends. Her heart losing a beat as he looked into her eyes, losing herself in them. Green and wild, they were untamed. The night moved on rather quickly, or so it seemed to Erin after making an excuse to her friends she left, leaving them green eyed with envy still feeling light headed from the whole ordeal. There was more working here that night besides alcohol, it was chemistry. Lights blurred as they moved through the streets at high speeds, his sports car moving effortlessly through the traffic as the engine whined for more. Like a restrained dog on a leash. He whispered to her then, his voice sounding like the wind rustling outside, interlinked with nature and co-existing in so many ways. His voice was barely audible but it was deep and rumbling like the thunder as he suggested a place for a drink. She had agreed, the numerous martini's making her head feel like it was full of cotton wool and blurring her common sense as the world began to spin, the colours beginning to blur into one colour. Black. The last thing she had remembered was her stumbling steps, falling into him then nothing. Frantically Erin tried to remember what happened after that but her mind drew up a blank. The sound of muffled footsteps approached and she stopped struggling, lowering her breathing to shallow breaths to minimise the movement of her bound body. The smell of breakfast filled the room as she felt his presence move about the room, opening the blinds bringing in the sunlight with it. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her face even though she couldn't see it. Movement was heard closer towards her as her blindfold was carefully removed. His hands felt soft and fragrant as it trailed across her cheek warm and comforting. Not the kind of hands that she would have expected from a murderer or kidnapper. She waited with eyes closed until she heard his footsteps fade away in the distance. Squinting her eyes she slowly opened them. Everything was hazy and blurry as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, eventually things began to focus and she was able to look at her surroundings. She was in a basement of sorts; a window near the ceiling provided the illumination for the room as she looked out at the blue sky. She was tied to a bed by handcuffs, her legs bound by leather cuffs, which joined onto chains connected to the corners of the bed. She was still fully clothed from what she was wearing from last night so at least she wasn't faced with the indignity of her own nakedness. Erin looked around the rest of the room in fright. The rest of the rooms was equipped with an assortment of instruments that looked like it was designed to inflict pain as she shuddered looking at one particular instrument consisting of a wooden circle with cuffs at each corner. What kind of mess have I gotten myself into? Erin wondered to herself as a chill began to creep up her spine. Movement from the landing above caused her to close her eyes again, squinting so she could see out of the small crevices. A tall brunette began to descend down the stairs carrying a tray with a glass of water (presumedly) on it. She was a beautiful figured girl with long black hair tied back to a ponytail, her fringe cut straight across her forehead. Her complexion was pale with her small dark eyes framing her delicately sculptured face. She descended the stairs without as much as a whisper and walked over to Erin her feet gliding noiselessly against the concrete floor. Erin closed her eyes and pretended to be unconscious as she neared. She heard the tray being placed upon the bedside table and somebody climb upon the bed towards her. A soft hand stroked her cheek, the same one that had earlier, the familiar feeling and fragrance of the hand coming back to mind. She squinted her eyes peering out through the small crevices caused by her eyelids and saw the brunette staring at her face intently. Shit! The brunette continued to stroke her cheek, her hand gliding down her face like satin on bare skin. Erin opened her eyes fully and blinked a few times to readjust to the light. Looking at this strange woman kneeling in front of her. Erin and the woman stared at each other for an extended period of time until the woman reached over with the glass of water offering it to Erin. Erin gulped down the water noisily as the woman held the glass until all of it was finished. The feeling of liquid quenching her parched vocal chords causing her to choke slightly, droplets of water splattering her chin. Leaning back the woman looked at her smiling warmly, without a word she picked up a new napkin and dabbed the few droplets of water spilt on Erin's chin. "Where am I?" Erin questioned the strange woman who had now dropped the napkin and was busily picking up the tray of breakfast by the bedside table. The woman turned back and beckoned towards the tray before her, asking with her eyes if she wanted any breakfast. Erin shook her head and asked her question again in case the brunette didn't comprehend what she was saying. "Where am I?" Erin asked again, a small note of urgency in her voice as it trembled slightly. The brunette looked at Erin smiling. She pressed a finger against Erin's mouth and got up out of the bed. "Master will be home soon, he will be pleased to see that you are awake and well." The brunette said her voice rich and exotic, perhaps she was Russian, Erin thought to herself as she picked up the tray and empty glass, walking back up the stairs noiselessly. Erin sighed to herself and closed her eyes once again, drifting back to an uneasy dreamless deep sleep. Erin woke; it was dark around her as before. But it was not any sound that had woken her as she strained her ear to listen for any sound but rather a presence in the room. She did not know if it was 'him' of course or that he was even in the room in the first place. But she felt its power emanating nearby like a radiator giving off heat. Its presence both frightened her and excited her. A barely audible click was heard and the room was bathed in light instantly. Erin squinted her eyes shut, the brightness of the light causing her to wince slightly. When she opened her eyes she saw him standing at the foot of the bed, arms on hips as he stared at her with cold eyes. Erin shuddered inwardly; she recognised the look in his eyes as she had only seen it a few times in her life. It was the look of malice. "Who are y-you?" Erin croaked, tired and afraid of whom she saw before her. There was silence as he continued to stare at her unblinkingly. Erin felt a chill travel up her spine as she stared back at him. When he spoke his voice was deep and powerful, with a heavy accent. "I am your master, for when you came home with me you became my property. You are my slave and will do as my bidding until I see fit. Do you understand?" The words drove home straight to Erin's heart. Despair began to fill her then when she realised that she was not just kidnapped she was imprisoned. He continued to stare at her with that cold stare, looking up at him she nodded her head solemnly. "Good. I am glad that we are on the same level of understanding. I shall call you Elizabeth like my last slave, I think that is a rather fitting name as she looks quite similar to you or should I say 'looked' similar to you." Finished with his little confession, master smiled vehemently and turned on his heel to leave. Anger boiled up inside Erin and before she could control her emotions she screamed out an angry retort at the master, in a blink of an eye he turned around took three large strides towards Erin and slapped her hard in the face. Tears welled up inside Erin as she felt the sting in her cheek; she managed to suppress her tears and stared back at him defiantly. His eyes were cold as he leaned in close to her ear as if sharing a secret with her. "Never answer back to me slave. Don't make the same mistake that Elizabeth did and maybe you might just live to tell another day." He hissed in her ear threateningly. Turning on his heel he strode off noiselessly. A faint click in the distance and the room was plunged back into darkness. Erin closed her eyes even though it was dark and wept. Gradually she became sleepy and drifted off into sleep, a place where she could escape, a place where she was free.