This is a story I wrote a few years back. It about a woman who is addicted to pain and knows that it can destroy her, but still seeks the blissful “golden cocoon” that lies on the other side of the pain and humiliation. Her addiction controls her, but she finds help from an unexpected source– her Uncle Jack and her sister Tracey. She also finds out that she is not the first of her lineage to have “the yearning.”

This story is more about bondage and erotic pain than actual sex, so if that is not your kink, you may want to skip this one. Those who understand, will understand. Those who do not are often offended. You have been warned.

This is part two of four parts. Each part stands more or less by itself, but makes a lot more sense if you have read the previous parts.


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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2008 by The Technician ( [email protected]. )

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Since I came to stay with uncle Jack for the summer, I had been waiting for an opportunity to ask him about my special cocoon. But as I stared down at him from my precarious perch high above the barnyard, all I could say was, “I think I can explain this, uncle Jack.”

He laughed and replied, “There’s no need to explain, Kelly. Your mother and I suspected that you had inherited the yearning. Let me come up there and see what you have done.”

A few minutes later he was in the loft standing behind me. “I see you didn’t use a gag. That was good. Alone out here, if your nose blocked up you could suffocate. But you didn’t use a hood, which left your face exposed. If someone had come by and taken pictures, your face would be all over the internet. Speaking of pictures, I think your mother will want some record of this.”

Suddenly there were a couple of bright flashes from behind me. Uncle Jack was taking pictures of me. I twisted my face around to see him and was momentarily blinded by the bright flash. After my eyes cleared, I could see that he was inspecting the room. He soon found part of the release mechanism for the pulley that had been above my head still attached to the wall. It was supposed to be my safety. I had assumed that with the pulley released from the wall, the rope would go slack and I would be able to release the cuffs. I hadn’t figured on being dragged out the loft door by a huge pile of fallen hay bales.

“What did you try to do, make a ramp rack with the beams? I assume there is some type of ice release mechanism buried under all that hay out there. Pretty inventive for an amateur, but I don’t think you thought everything trough or you wouldn’t be hanging around waiting for me to get a good look at your boobs and ass. Well let’s get things stabilized a bit.”

Then he dragged the remaining beam over to the loft door and placed is sideways across the end of the two beams I was tied to and standing on. He added a couple of hay bales to the beam and then walked up beside me.