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--------------------------------------------------------
(C) 2007 Rachel Gumm. You may freely distribute this 
story digitally, but only in full, crediting me as the 
author. Rachel Gumm (rachelgumm@yahoo.co.uk)
--------------------------------------------------------

Memento
by Rachel Gumm (rachelgumm@yahoo.co.uk)

***

The more I struggled, the more aroused I became, 
knowing Joel was the only person who could release me. 
Knowing he wouldn't, not until he'd finished taking the 
most degrading photos of me and showed them off to the 
world. (MF, F-solo, M-voy, bd)

***

This isn't an excuse. I'm not ashamed of my actions, 
really. I did it, and that's just a part of who I am. 
You should know my reckless behaviour by now, and I'm 
not going to apologise for something I did several 
years ago that didn't harm anybody. And don't tell me 
I'm a victim, because I made a choice. I'm the one who 
did it. This is just an explanation. I feel I owe you 
that much. 

How it happened was I was sitting cross-legged on my 
bed, fumbling through my cardboard box of restraints. 
Joel, my roommate at the time, was standing by the 
doorway, digital camera in hand, watching me with an 
enthusiasm he wasn't very good at hiding. 

He'd known about my sexuality since a few months 
beforehand. That I enjoyed being tied up, I mean. He 
also knew I was bisexual, but that never seemed to 
matter by comparison. That was more a romantic 
orientation than a sexual one, anyway. Sexually, I'm 
submissive, and that's pretty much all there is to it. 
Joel wasn't into that sort of thing, and I didn't see 
him that way anyway, but this wasn't sex. This was 
something more than that. 

I felt like one of those middle aged guys having a 
midlife crisis, only I'm a woman and I was only in my 
twenties. The problem was mortality. I know that 
death's necessary for life, for each species to evolve, 
for us to get to the state we're in at the moment where 
we have a society and spend our time listening to music 
and watching films instead of being hunted by 
predators. I've always accepted that one day I will 
die. The thing is, I've always had this inescapable 
feeling in the back of my mind that I should do 
something first. I'm not sure what it is. I think 
that's part of the problem. 

I knew my body would peak long before my mind. Having a 
relatively high sex drive for a woman, I've always felt 
I should be making full use of it before it's too late 
and I cease to look particularly attractive. Sure, I 
always hoped that one day I'd settle down with the 
right person, and that I'd be content to do that. But 
at the time, I felt there was something I had to do 
first, to get out of my system, to say I've lived. To 
leave my mark on the world. 

The only problem was, I didn't know what that was. 
Sure, I'm reasonably attractive. I'm of average height, 
with pale skin and brown hair and eyes. Although my 
breasts are small, my curves look pretty neat. I watch 
what I eat. I've got a black spandex catsuit somewhere, 
skin tight. I'm not even sure where I keep it now, but 
at the time, it was always in my bedside drawer, next 
to my socks and tights. 

I loved how I looked in that catsuit, and the few 
lovers I'd had at around that time loved it even more. 
The problem was, it wasn't enough. Just intimate 
moments with a handful of men and women. Sure, I could 
have gone clubbing in it, been seen in it, but I 
didn't. I would still have faded from everyone's memory 
within the blink of an eye. I even considered trying to 
get a job as a fetish model, but realistically, I'm not 
that attractive, only average. 

That's where Joel came in. Getting mildly drunk one 
night, we got talking about mortality and what we'd 
like to do before we die. I told him all this, about 
how I wanted to show off my body while people would 
still want to see it. I even told him about my stupid 
modelling idea. That's when he told me about Usenet. He 
told me about a place where I could publish photos of 
myself. Erotica. Where I wouldn't get paid, but people 
would appreciate what I did, even if I wasn't exactly 
Jewell Marceau. 

"So when do I start taking photos?" Joel was still 
standing in the doorway, pretending to be blase about 
our amateur photo shoot. It's weird, had I been living 
with another woman I probably would have felt 
uncomfortable asking her to do this favour for me, but 
I got the impression most guys would see it as its own 
reward. 

"First, you need to leave for a minute while I get 
changed." I jumped off the bed. 

Joel looked disappointed. "You mean I don't get to see 
you naked?" 

"No." I smiled, flattered, as I pulled my catsuit out 
of the drawer and held it up over my clothes. "You get 
to see me in this, like everyone else." 

"Not even as a reward?" Joel's tone of voice was 
playful, but I could tell he really was hoping I'd 
agree to it. That's what made it flattering. 

"Maybe afterwards," I relented. "But only as a thank 
you." His eyes lit up. "And it doesn't mean we're 
having sex or anything either," I added, just in case 
he was getting the wrong impression. 

By the time I called for Joel to come back in, I had 
everything ready. I was wearing the catsuit, which 
covered my entire body up to my neck. I'd managed to 
use a handful of my small padlocks to attach one end of 
a piece of chain to my bed's headrest, and the other 
end to the ankle cuffs I'd put on. I'd fumbled a little 
taking out the keys due to my gloved hands, but I'd 
managed it. All that was left was for Joel to complete 
my captivity, finishing what I'd started. 

I guided him through padlocking my wrist cuffs behind 
me, to the same piece of chain, next to my feet. He 
made a pretty tight hogtie, and the thought of not 
being able to escape without his help made me tingle. 
He even picked up all the keys and put them in his 
pocket without any prompting, like a true dom. 

The next to last item was the spandex hood, black to 
match my catsuit. I had hoped to get a proper zentai 
suit with a built-in hood, but it wasn't very practical 
and I couldn't afford it anyway. Joel carefully placed 
the hood on my head and zipped it up behind me. It 
wasn't my sort of thing, really, but I wasn't about to 
send the world pictures of myself all tied up if I was 
easily identifiable. For all I knew, our neighbours 
could have been subscribed to that newsgroup. 

The very last item was the bright pink ball gag. I had 
to make sure Joel knew exactly what he was doing before 
he fastened it around me. Thankfully, he could 
understand me despite the hood muffling my voice 
slightly. 

"What are you going to do next?" I asked, to make sure 
he remembered. 

"I'm going to put the gag on you, then take pictures of 
you squirming for a few minutes. Then I'll post them to 
the newsgroup, and once that's done, I'll untie you." 

That was the moment, right there. No going back. "Thank 
you," I said, naive young woman that I was. 

"You're welcome." 

I couldn't see very well through the hood, but managed 
to open my mouth pretty quickly once I felt the rubber 
ball pressing against my lips. Within seconds it was 
tightly strapped in place, and there was nothing else I 
could do except pose. 

This was the part where I thought I'd chicken out. I'd 
made up my mind since he first told me about Usenet. 
I'd thought long and hard about it, and I'd made my 
decision. I didn't want to let myself change my mind at 
the last minute only to change it back again. I'd taken 
precautions to ensure my anonymity, wearing the spandex 
hood and setting up a disposable e-mail account, and I 
was going to go through with it whether I changed my 
mind or not. 

In some ways, it was even better than sex. It wasn't an 
intimate moment between two lovers. It was more than 
that: it was opening up to the whole world. It was 
baring your soul for everyone to see, showing people 
who you really were, your innermost desires and 
fantasies. And that's the one thing I hadn't counted 
on: desire. 

Whenever I had thought about this moment, when I was 
planning it, I always assumed I'd be almost clinical 
about it. I was with my roommate, not a lover, and we 
certainly weren't having sex. He wasn't even touching 
me. I hadn't anticipated how damn horny I'd get. 

For the first few minutes I managed to content myself 
with squirming around on the bed, testing my 
boundaries. I couldn't even move to the foot of the 
bed. The chain was too short. I just writhed around, 
grunting in mild frustration as I mustered the effort 
to turn onto my front, my other side, my back, all the 
while listening out for the next click of Joel's 
camera. 

The more I struggled, the more aroused I became, 
knowing Joel was the only person who could release me. 
Knowing he wouldn't, not until he'd finished taking the 
most degrading photos of me and showed them off to the 
world. Slowly, I let my hands creep down my back and 
between my legs. I gently started stroking my pussy 
from behind. 

Of course, Joel took pictures of me pleasuring myself 
too. I'd told him to take pictures of me, and he didn't 
realise I hadn't intended to start groping myself. This 
wasn't part of the plan, but he had no way to know 
that. I could just about make out the outline of his 
body as he leaned closer to my crotch to take a close-
up. It was so degrading, so embarrassing, but that only 
turned me on even more, knowing everyone in the world 
who wanted to would see how damn horny I was, how 
helpless I'd let myself become. And that just made me 
want to pleasure myself even more. 

I started moaning, half with the pleasure of being in 
the moment, and half in revulsion of what was happening 
to me. Joel probably couldn't tell if I was trying to 
express how happy and content I was or if I had changed 
my mind and wanted him to stop. But then again, neither 
could I. 

"No use protesting now. You've already given me strict 
orders to take photos of whatever you do, then upload 
them for everyone to see before I let you go again. So 
if you're trying to tell me to stop, it's too late, you 
already told me not to do that." 

He was right. He was only doing exactly what I'd told 
him to. I was annoyed at myself for telling him not to 
let me change my mind, but it wasn't his fault. I let 
out a muffled scream of frustration before giving up 
and going back to stroking myself. 

I didn't anticipate what happened next. Joel seemed to 
get into the spirit of his role. I felt something soft 
land in front of my crotch. 

"There you go." Joel's voice was strong and firm. 
Condescending, even. The voice of someone in control. 
"If you want to pleasure yourself so much, try fucking 
that." 

It was a language I'd never heard him use before. Sure, 
he swore occasionally, but he never talked to me like 
that, talking down to me like some sort of pet. I began 
to wonder if he genuinely had dominating urges after 
all, and he'd just never told me. 

I felt the soft object with my gloved hands. It was my 
pillow. I pulled it between my legs and squeezed them 
around it. After a short moment of effort, I finally 
managed to press it against my groin. I was beyond the 
point of caring what anyone would think of this 
anonymous stranger, but not beyond the point of being 
turned on by the thought of people seeing how 
humiliated I was. I slowly started moving my pussy back 
and forth, pushing it further into the soft surface. 

I thrust my groin harder and harder into the pillow. 
Between the humiliation, the inability to escape, the 
realisation that Joel was starting to get into his 
role, the feeling of the soft pillow pressing against 
my skin, and the feeling of the spandex catsuit gently 
covering my whole body, stretching with each new 
contortion, I became lost in the pleasure of the 
moment. 

I came. 

To my surprise, Joel took my gag off. I didn't hesitate 
to start pleading with him. "Please don't publish those 
pictures! Please don't show them to anyone! I made a 
mistake! I know what I told you before, about not 
letting me change my mind, but that was just about me 
being tied up and you taking photos of that. I didn't 
know I'd get carried away and start..." I cringed at 
admitting what I'd done. "...pleasuring myself. Please, 
I'm begging you, don't show anyone those photos! I'll 
make it worth your while, I'll do anything for you, 
just don't show them to anyone!" 

It seemed a lifetime before Joel replied. He simply 
said "Open." 

"What?" I asked, confused. Before I had time to realise 
what he'd ordered me to do, the gag was back in place, 
pressing the wet, black spandex of the hood back inside 
my mouth. I shouted muffled protests, but it was no 
use. I squirmed with absolute sincerity for the first 
time in my life, genuinely trying to escape, but I 
already knew it was impossible. 

"I was going to let you talk freely, but if you're just 
going to beg me to go against your own wishes, that you 
made when you were of perfectly sound judgement, then 
I'm afraid I'll have to leave you gagged." 

I screamed again, almost sobbing into the gag, as I 
frantically writhed around on my own bed. 

"I suggest you relax," advised Joel. "I should be done 
in about twenty minutes, and then we can look at the 
pictures of you together as they appear online. I'm 
sure you'll get lots of fan mail." 

I let out a whole string of loud protests, one after 
the other, as I heard him leave the room. It was no 
good. He'd gone off to do exactly what I'd ask him to 
do, and it was all my fault. 

I was consumed by genuine frustration about being bound 
and helpless for the first time in my life, and I 
finally recognised the strange feeling it was giving 
me. Despite everything, or because of everything, I'd 
become horny again. With no one to watch this time, I 
tugged the pillow back between my legs. With nothing 
else to do until Joel came back, I figured I might as 
well enjoy myself. 

END

I welcome feedback, and try my best to reply to it all. 
You can e-mail me at rachelgumm@yahoo.co.uk 

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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