Dear Helpless,

I had the great pleasure of visiting your site and Warhammer's site
today. The subject addressed by your site is an absorbing one. Many of
the memorabilia mentioned on your site are things I have originals of,
for example, The Adventures of S.G. and the stories originally posted as
letters in Bondage Life magazine.

In addition to having practised many techniques that have not been
mentioned on your site, I have written several stories that ought to
appeal as fantasies, to people with similar interests, and I attach five
of them for you to post on your site, if you like them.

They are called A Tale of Possession, Tempted, Comfort, Off the Wall and

I have also built some home-made equipment using simple items used on
boats, including a self stretching frame that uses elastic to stretch
the subject by pulling cords through one-way cleats. The release method
involves tugging the ropes out of the cleat using a smaller cord - if
you can still move enough! It has all of the elements needed to make for
a very enjoyable session.

Readers should be warned that the methods employed in the stories are
written purely for fantasy purposes!

I have also experimented with various s-b techniques involving water,
such as a deep pool or a shelving beach. Bottles half full of sand that
gradually fill as waves splash into them, and eventually sink. I have
also designed a special kind of tie that works very well and is
comfortable, made from an ordinary tee-shirt. All these things I can
outline in greater detail if you feel they will interest readers.

At present I would prefer that my email address is not posted, but I
will be very pleased to answer anyone who wants to get in touch with me.

With best regards,


Comfort - November 1987

The naked girl prepares herself in the playroom.  First she fastens the
cuffs above her elbows, and on her wrists and ankles.  Each pair of cuffs
can be clipped together by a strong, steel snap-lock fitted in between.
The upper pair are also fitted with steel rings.  She goes to the centre
of the room.  A strong rope hangs from a beam in the ceiling, and she
pulls herself up to test its strength.  It is firm; it will hold.

Something else is needed.  She moves a three foot high, leather-covered
bench under the rope, and hooks one end over a small wooden block set
into the floor.  She goes to the wall, where a sash cord runs through a
fixed ring, up and over a pulley fixed to a beam in the ceiling, and then
down to a heavy weight.  She takes the end of the cord at the wall ring,
pulls it towards the bench.  The weight rises.  She fastens the cord to 
the bench.  It is ready.  She knocks the bench over, and it slides slowly 
across the floor until it comes to rest against the wall.  It works!  
She pulls it back to its position under the rope, and hooks it once 
more over the block.

Next she takes a large, black rubber ball gag fitted to a harness.  
It seems much too big, and stretches her jaw uncomfortably as she presses 
it firmly into her mouth.  She tightens the straps which cross behind 
and over her head, winding a cloth over her mouth to hold the ball in 
place.  Her mouth is filled, her tongue compressed.  She is silenced.

A rope is tied to another ring set into the wall.  She feeds its other end
through the rings between her upper arms, then ties it again to the wall
ring.  She walks away from the wall.  The rope tightens, pulling her
elbows back, then closer together, closer.  Click!  The cuffs have snapped
together.  She is pinioned, her shoulders pulled back, her breasts thrust
forward.  She backs towards the wall to unfasten the rope; it is awkward
with her elbows cuffed together.  She pulls it free, then steps back to
the bench.

She climbs up onto its high, pa


Flatmates - May 1991

You are alone in the flat, naked. You are sitting at the bottom of the 
large bed, ready to begin. For long you have prepared for this adventure, 
making sure that you will be alone, secretly collecting the equipment 
hidden in your room and concealing your preparations. The ceiling fixtures 
are normally used to hang decorations, and nobody has�remarked on their 
unusual positioning. The bed was more difficult, but a cover conceals the 
fittings from the casual eye. It was hardest to conceal your rings from 
the interested eyes of your flatmates, but normally you wear other, less 
obtrusive jewellery, so you are sure they do not suspect, even though it 
is hard to conceal such things from two young, attractive and obviously 
very interested men. They will certainly not need that kind 
of encouragement.

Your breasts jut proudly forward, your golden nipple rings jiggle as you 
move, and your dark hair falls softly over your shoulders. Your legs are 
parted a little, and another golden ring emerges from the curly hairs of 
your trim mound, parting the upper crevice of your sex, transfixing the 
base of your soft inner ridge. You feel its weight pulling gently, 
distractingly at your clitoris. It is time to begin.

The strong but comfortable cuffs are ready for your wrists and ankles, and 
one by one you lock them tightly in position with their strong steel rings 
outside your ankles and behind your wrists. You stuff the leather gag into 
your mouth and tighten the straps over your head. You know your cries will 
be effectively silenced now.

The cleats look neat at each corner of the bed, with shackles to attach 
the strong, heavily tensioned ropes to your ankles and wrists. Each cleat 
has swivelling grips which clamp the rope. One by one you lift the ropes 
clear of their clamps and pull them out until you can fasten the shackles 
to your ankle cuffs. It is hard, but you manage, parting your ankles a 
little to reach the shackles as the rope slips back into the clamps under 
the strain. You feel t

Off the Wall

September 1994

I tremble as I remove my clothes in the silent emptiness of the changing 
room. Today my Master is going to surprise me. Rain beats on the roof, but 
inside it is warm. I hang my clothes neatly. I have been instructed to 
shower before I go up into the gymnasium.

We have been together for a while now. It is exciting to obey him. He 
understands my needs, but he does not allow me the indulgence of 
controlling my own responses.

The hot needle spray erects my nipples instantly, and I wriggle with 
pleasure. I soap carefully between my legs. I am not allowed to pleasure 
myself. He will punish me if I take too long. All the same, I love the 
feel of the slippery lather between the soft folds of my sex lips. My 
breasts are so sensitive that soaping them is another erotic experience. 
I am careful to lift and rotate my rings as I wash myself. My hair 
colour is a natural gold. I am lucky. My Master likes my hair, especially 
the curls between my legs.

My Master is waiting for me. I dry myself quickly and I put on the costume 
he likes. There is a wispy skirt, that barely covers my bottom when I am 
standing still. It offers more an erotic invitation than any semblance of 
concealment or protection. A matching cloak offers a tempting view of my 
modestly sized but prettily curved breasts. He likes to hold one of my 
breasts in each of his hands, and twiddle my nipple rings.

It always feels odd to walk so scantily clad up stairs and along 
corridors in the deserted sports complex, that at other times is 
filled with people. I am afraid that one day there will be somebody else 
in the building. I know that the sound of my screams will be lost in the 
battering of the rain. Perhaps he will not gag me today. I am a
little self-conscious as I step into the gymnasium. I know I am exposed
to the kiss of my Master�s whip, but I am not allowed to look behind me.
The cool air caresses my bare bottom cheeks as I walk.

I advance obediently until I am standing close to the wall. I am conscious
of my



The throaty sound of Mark�s Ferrari receded down the long curving 
driveway. Helen jumped excitedly in front of the bedroom mirror. This 
was too good a chance to miss! He would not be back until at least 
mid afternoon, and for once he had forgotten to restrain his favourite 
slave. She looked down at the golden ring that peeped so cheekily from the 
neatly trimmed tuft of golden hair between her legs. There were so many 
ways to chain a ringed girl. She ran her fingers lightly down over her 
breasts to test their shape. They were as perfect as a girl could hope 
for. Her nipples were erect even before she touched them, as usual. They 
were guaranteed to turn a man�s head, even if she dressed with impeccable 

She did not dare to wear nipple rings in the street. An unobtrusive pair 
of flesh coloured sleepers kept her piercings established while revealing  
nothing to strangers. The ring between her legs was much easier to hide. 
Quickly she removed the sleepers from her nipple piercings, and inserted a 
thick pair of hinged golden rings. She pinched them hard until they 
snapped shut. She loved the feel of them. They were more than just a 
distraction. Every movement became a sensual event. Wearing them all the 
time had increased the size of her nipples. Her friends in the aerobics 
class had become quite jealous. She smiled. They would go nuts if they 
saw her like this. It was difficult enough to hide her pussy ring in the 
showers, but so far nobody had guessed her secret. She wondered what it 
would feel like doing aerobics, wearing nothing but her rings.

Stretching lithely, she examined herself once again. Satisfied, she 
hurried out of the bedroom, and down the long curved staircase. It was 
exciting to be nude in the old oak panelled hall, and the study where the 
entrance to the playroom was concealed. It was a place that reeked of 
maleness. She pressed a catch. The panel slid aside to reveal the hidden 
door. She had watched Mark enter the combination often enough. The numbers 
worked first time! The bank vault do


A Tale of Possession - March 1992

The girl drove fast along the empty blacktop road that stretched before her 
across the desert plain. It had been a hot afternoon, but already the sun 
was easing West. This was not a working day, but still she watched warily 
for signs of life in this secluded spot. It would not do to attract 
interest, not at all; but she had taken further precautions. Her shapely 
figure was unobtrusive under her loose cotton coverall, her hair coiled 
beneath a wide-brimmed cowboy hat to further disguise her sex to the 
casual observer.

Without the coverall there would be no doubt about her youthful femininity, 
none whatsoever. She was proud of her classical shape, her height in 
perfect proportion to her figure. Her breasts were round and well 
proportioned, her hips trim and her pert bottom provocatively full. She 
loved to walk seductively and feel those heads turning. She enjoyed that 
feeling of innocent power.

She enjoyed the feel of the hard wearing cotton against her bare skin. Her 
breasts brushed the material as she moved. Her nipple rings jiggled with 
each vibration and bump of the desert road, and had rubbed her stiffened 
nipple tips against the thick patches of her breast pockets until they 
had become sensitive to the slightest contact. There was no possibility of 
relief from the insistent tugging of the rings. They were locked securely, 
and impossible to remove. Her Master had kept the cunning sliver of steel 
that opened those tiny locks. Their presence was a curious paradox of 
possession, and at times a source of fierce excitement - but not the only 

The other source of distracting female sensations was predictably between 
her legs. The larger golden ring was inserted through its piercing, deep 
in the fleshy ridge between her upper labia. It teased her with every 
vibration of the seat, until her clitoris peeped hesitantly from its 
sheath like a snail from a shell. The ring was firm, comfortable but
impossible to ignore. It too bore a tiny lock, secure from her