A story of bondage, drama, and adventure.



The Society for Males Rights, SfMR, gathered in Washington D.C. today for a great demonstration, marching along Constitution Avenue. More than 800.000 males and even many ladies took part and demanded equality of rights for males. The SfMR is very active these days, and the issue is discussed throughout the country. The USA has, together with the Netherlands, the most liberal male rights in the world, and many conservative ladies say that's more than enough."

Washington Post, April 17th 1936

Apartment of Ladies Bethany and Joan Richmond, Denver, Colorado, 22nd of April 1936,

17.25 hours

Special Agent Tucker eyed the bedroom closely. The beds were disarranged. Here, some water on the carpet. But the glass, still with some water in it, on its place. A fight? No other evidence visible.

Lady Bethany Richmond, a scientist working on plastics at Denver University, had vanished two days ago, together with her female companion. It was the fifth case of a scientist vanishing, probably abducted, since January. All over the states, family members, if living in the house, were vanishing too.

Here even the dog, a German sheepdog, was gone.

Why the dog? That was really strange.

Never a ransom, never witnesses, no fingerprints, no broken doors or windows, no signs of a fight.

Special Agent Anne Simmons entered the room. The blonde looked angry.

"Nothing, Beyonce, not the slightest clue. Could be a serial killeress."

Beyonce shook her head.

"I doubt that. A killeress, travelling through the States from Seattle to LA to New Orleans to Norfolk and than to Denver, killing off scientists and their loved ones? That's too far off. The scientist thing hints at a foreign agency."

"Kidnapping brains for their own research? Who would do that? Are the Japanese that mad?"

"Or the Germans or the commies, what do I know? That's not my field. Anyway, counterintelligence is our job too. We need to know what the ladies were working on."

"This Bethany worked on plastics to be used by the industry. Could better industrial performance. Something like that."

"Let's go to the university and have a closer look."

"I will get the car."

 Beyonce nodded and left the room too, going to the kitchen. There was the dog's place. The garbage can, Beyonce looked into it. Hmmm, there's a handkerchief or something. Blood on it. Much blood. Nothing on the ground.

"The car is ready."

Beyonce pocketed the handkerchief.

Airship ROBERTA MOZART, Departure tower XI, New York Aerodrome, April 22nd 1936, 17.48 hours

The dark-haired clerk eyed the German businesswoman longingly. What a lady. Beautiful was an understatement. And so cool. Great, working on the Aerodrome seeing all these beautiful foreign ladies.

The small brunette approached the blond businesswoman, who was at least a head taller.

"Lady Schmidt, everything is arranged, the girls start loading your crates immediately."

"I see, thank you, Miss."

Polite, this beauty. And they say these German superfrauleins are all so arrogant bitches. What nonsense. She smiled at the tall beauty. What beautiful long hair, and these eyes... she sighed.

The blonde watched closely as the workeresses started to load the crates into the freight elevator of the tower.

The ROBERTA MOZART, a modern German airship destined for Berlin, filled the sky above tower XI.

The striking blonde nestled at her jacket. She was injured at the forearm, white gaze was visible.

"Everything okay, Lady Schmidt?"

"Yes, thank you, Miss. An ungrateful dog..."

The blonde gestured with the other hand to the bandage.

HANDLE WITH CARE was printed on the large crates. You could see from the behavior of the working women that they were heavy. Machine part samples for some firm in Germany, the papers said.

Reminding herself of her other duties, the young clerk sighed again, gave the long legs in the high boots of Lady Schmidt a last look, and went about her work.

The German lady ignored her, concentrating on the crates. After they were loaded successfully, and elevated into the airship, she allowed herself a cigarette.

The $2,000  per month to the chief of the customs department of New York Aerodrome had paid off well indeed. A good investment for the Reich.

Major Ophelia Skorzeny of German Sondereinsatztruppen (Special Mission Forces) smiled wryly and enjoyed her smoke.

CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia, May 2nd 1936, 14.10 hours

"Hello, Marcy. You should try the filet with french fries in the cafeteria today."

"Oh no, Jill, I am on a diet."

"Again? Come on, be serious..."

"Arhh... anyway, here is a new report about weird masts of steel on the German coast around their naval bases. Wilhelmshafen, Kiel, Bremen. Look, an agent has made pictures."

"Hmm... looks like radio masts. But so many... What does our scientific department say?"

"They are not sure. One chick says it could have to do something with our gals are working on in California."


"Yeah, something about detecting far away planes from the ground. They were said to be making good progress, but then, her mistressmind, a scientist out of LA, vanished in February. The FBI says she was probably abducted, but they have no clues."

"Good goddess on a bicycle, what a coincidence."

"I thought that too."

"Do we have a line to FBI?"


"Can I use it? Or will I have to go to the chief first?"

"Uh, Jill, I think its better you talk with the old dragon first."

"Great, I am already on the way."

"Wait, Couzens is in Washington D.C., briefing the Lady President on the Italian-Ethiopian war. The Italians are advancing on Addis-Ababa, the capital."

"Yeah, another problem. Won't take long before the country falls. Who's next? Anyway, when will Couzens be back?"

"Tomorrow, if I recall it right."

"Well, it will have to wait until then. This agent, can she get more information apart from the pictures?"

An office of Hortensa Hughes, Las Vegas, Nevada, May 5th 1936, 15.10 hours

"Oh, hello Squire* Eaton, very nice to meet you guy."

"I am glad you have time for me, Mam."

The handsome young man bowed before the famous aviatrix. Hortensa Hughes took his right and vigorously shook it.

"For the most famous male aviator in the world? Are you kidding? Why haven't we met sooner, we are colleagues, of sorts."

Eaton WAS famous, but more as a curiosity than anything else, while Hughes was known worldwide, getting flying record after record and producing airplanes and airships herself.

"Sit down please. A drink? Its said I make a fairly good Martini..."

"Uh, if I could have some water?"

Hughes grinned jovially.

"Sure, Bill. I will call you Bill, okay? I am Hortensa."

"Okay Mam, ah, Hortensa."

"So, what can I do for you?"

"Ma... Hortensa. I am planning a flight. A record, sort of. But no one wants to give me the plane I need for the mission."

"What flight, son?"

"Errrh... around the world. From Miami to Miami."

"Ufff... you caught me by surprise. That's a hell of a flight."

"Yeah, no male has ever undertaken something like that. I know, you did it twice already, but..."

He eyed the lady apprehensively.

Hortensa starred at him for a long time. Suddenly, she grinned.

"I like it. Yeah, I really, really like it. I am in. Let's speak about the aircraft you need..."

"You... you will give me a plane? Really?"

"Godessdammit, sure, boy, sure..."

Bill Eaton allowed himself to grin too, now...

*Squire = no equivalent on patriarchal earths, roughly comparable to the female "Miss", "Mademoiselle", "Fraulein", to address males in a diminutive way.


(Miss Nora Young of Boulder, Colorado contributed this article to LASCIVIOUSNESS AND BEAUTY, the great Lady's Magazine)

I never dared to take part at the LATEXUON in Miami, but this year I lost a wager with friends, so I had no choice. And so I was there, in one of the halls, together with about 100 other young pretty ladies, blondes like me, brunettes, redheads, black gals, Chinese, Hispanics, Indians, you name it.

Traditionally, our packing started with the gags. We all put big rubber balls into our gaping mouths, sealed by latex bands in white, tied off as tight as possible. The latex gag made me horny from the start and I mmpphhed immediately.

Next, we stripped completely, and thoroughly rubberized ourselves with the latex catsuits for which the LATEXUON is famous. I chose shiny red and worked my way into the squeaking, tight latex, which was naturally impregnated with gnuvala-lustcream. To my right, a beautiful Hispanic with hair down to her hips rubberized herself in silver, all the time mmpphing in her tight, squeaking gag. To my left, a small, diminutive Chinese gal put on green latex. I saw the other girls pussies drip visibly, and you can guess, I too was already wet as hell.

We put the hoods on, our hair vanishing under the rubber; the Hispanic's long mane was a big bulge under her rubber hood at her neck.

Now the helperesses began to tie us tightly with ropes. One by one we were made helpless, but naturally our legs remained free. I watched with a mixture of lust and apprehension, as the Chinese gal had her two orifices stuffed with dildos, fastened with straps at her hips and thighs. Than it was my turn, and I too had my pussy and butt stuffed with cool PVC dildos. Then the Hispanic followed. How she screamed in her gag as the dildos were applied. This was one very horny lady!

After all 100 of us were packaged, we were led outside, where we joined the ladies from halls all over the city. Over 10.000 rubberized packages of ladies filled the streets of sunny Miami.

What a sight!

We ran through the streets, cheered on by the crowds. Finally, we reached the pleasure tents, where strong pleasure boys awaited us. Mine took me all night, and the Hispanic was fucked just left of me. I had multiple orgasms this night, before I was released of my bonds and the LATEXUON ended.

It was the best sex experience of my life and I can only strongly recommend it. I am glad to live in the USA, were such is possible. Long live free bondage, long live democracy and freedom!

By the way, the Hispanic's name is Gina, and since that day we have become engaged. Next year we will take part in the LATEXUON again, if we can get tickets. You too shouldn't miss it!"

An article in LASCIVIOUSNESS AND BEAUTY, May 18th, 1936

Outside Court Central, station Rowenna Garros, French Tennis Open, Paris, May 23rd 1936, 17.02 hours

"Miss Lenglen? Miss Lenglen! Wilma Viper, ABC. An interview for 'Queens of Sports'? Just a few words!"

Josefine Lenglen turned, smiled politely. The reportress was a redhead with too much lipstick and a too short skirt, revealing elephant legs pressed into tight orange boots. Orange, by the goddess of style. She tortured a seemingly innocent stick of chewing gum between her slightly yellow teeth.

ABC, an American. Who else would wear orange boots?

"Miss Lenglen, you have just a few minutes ago lost your first round game against an American newcomeress-- and here in Paris, on your own turf as one might say. Are you ashamed?"

Josefine still smiled into the face of the cow and answered with all noblesse she could muster:

"Oh, no, I just had a bad day. That happens in sports. And Mademoiselle Wainright was very good today. She has a great career in front of her."

Meanwhile she imagined reshaping the reportress face with her racket.

"Oh, really fair of you. Nearly like an Englishwoman, eeeh?"

"May I ask you something too?"

"Ah, sure, Miss Lenglen, haha..."

"Were did you get these boots? They are nice."

"Really? Woolworth. 21.95 bucks."

"I thought so."

To Be Continued...

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