Stories

Author's Note: : This story takes place in the BDSM-rich universe of www.callmeplisskin.com. It was originally written for him as part of a trade, involving his characters, and is being posted here with his permission. Chapter 1 “Wakey wakey, Claire! Time to rise and shine!” Coming to, Claire blinked in the harsh, bright light. As she sat up, she realized that, once again, she was naked, bound, and gagged. Her captors approached, a pair of maids she immediately recognized. As the penis gag was removed from her mouth, Claire sighed, “Not you two again.” ...

Author's Note: This story was originally written by Clinton Crayle (“C. C.”) in the late 1970’s, and it was published in Bondage Life magazine. I edited and updated the original, and I am posting it with the permission of the original author. I’d heard about a new night spot in the heart of the Olde Towne district: “Shackles” - ultra-chic, ultra-kinky and ultra-in. My job as the highest-ranking female executive at HQ didn’t give me much time for leisure though, and none of my dates ever had the courage to take me there. So, I never went into the place… until the night my car broke down right outside. ...

Author's Note: This is the first part of the story. If there’s interest in future installments, I’ll keep posting. I welcome feedback and ideas of what may be done to Shadow Part 1 Sir was taking the whole slave idea to the literal definition. I was in sky-high, platform stripper heels, faux leather micro mini skirt, tightly cinched corset and to top it off, black, lacy crotchless panties. Along with leather cuffs and collar, all locked on, with a chain hobbling my ankles and chains connecting my wrists to my collar, just long enough my hands could almost reach my bellybutton. That way I couldn’t touch myself. And while wearing all of this, he had me cleaning his house. That is, when I wasn’t tied up, servicing him and/or his friends, or put in some position to be frustrated or in the cage. ...

This is difficult for me to talk about but my first true self bondage experience is something that I, unfortunately, will never forget. Not a lot happens in Eaton, it’s a small town in southwestern Ohio that you might miss if you blink too fast. I had just graduated high school three months prior and was working at Mary’s Coffee. Mary’s proximity to the town square, courthouse and local newspaper meant that I got to know most of the residents fairly well, from Sheriff Rouscher who used to come to our school and teach criminal justice to Jean Marie who worked with my mother at the courthouse probate office to Agatha and Charlotte Ray, twin sisters, almost in their 80’s now, who would stop by for hot chocolate and wheat muffins almost every night before church. ...

Author's Note: This is a work of sexual fantasy. In no way does the author support the ugly reality of human trafficking. Everyone in this story is a work of fiction. This is my first attempt at a short story. Despite being my first language, English is not my forte so pardon my many grammatical errors. This isn’t the sort of story that I can ask those that know me personally to proof read. To be honest, it makes me wince a little to read. Not because of the dark sexual content but just the poor writing. It’s a bit silly but I’m grateful for the instant ability to publish that the internet provides. I would love to hear your comments or criticisms. ...

Author's Note: A mild tormenting Story Julie is my fantastic partner, we’ve been together for over six years. She has a lovely chassis and takes pride the way she looks, and I have the pleasure of that. Although we had a full sex life after six years the inevitable started to happen. Not really boredom because we always enjoyed each other, but a sameness started to creep in. Julie worked shift work and sometimes had a nap early in the evening before going to work. ...

Author's Note: A woman and her boyfriend playfully jockey for dominance. Lacey She woke up with a satisfied smile on her face. The sunlight beamed through the window to her right as its rays warmed her skin. She had left the window open to enjoy the warm night air and the smell of it as it wafted into her room. Now, during the day, the lukewarm breeze brought with it the light smell of the summer morning. She thought about what she might want to have for breakfast, and was excited about the dance rehearsal she had scheduled for today. ...

When you love someone, you meet them halfway. I’m a switch and she is my lovely submissive who doesn’t have a single naturally dominant bone in her body. We’ve discussed ways that my sub needs can be met, and neither of us are offended or opposed to the idea of opening up to others to meet them, but for right now she’s able to prove the old adage true. She meets me halfway, and it’s absolutely perfect. ...

They were planning for a quiet night. The only thing was, they each had different ideas of what quiet meant. You see, he was going to head upstairs and surf around on his phone. Perhaps look at some porn, respond to some work e-mails, fall asleep by 8pm. Her idea was completely different. She was leaving work, maybe an hour from getting home, when she texted him, “Hey dear. Can you do me a favor? Can you run to the store and grab me a nice bottle of wine? You can get yourself some beer… Make sure you’r back in the next 30 minutes or so.” ...

“Turn out the lights, and come sit,” she said, lying down on my bed, still fully clothed, going through her purse. Probably for a condom, I supposed. Why did girls always like it better with the lights off? I took one more look at her before I did so. She was such an innocent-looking girl. And very beautiful. She looked at me with black doe-like eyes that seemed full of childlike curiosity and wonder, almost like a little girl. It was funny to think such a thing when she was two years older than I was, and I was merely eighteen years old. Her face was smooth and flawless like a perfect sculpture, and also as soft-looking as a rose petal. It was perfectly framed by her dark wavy black hair which stopped just below her delicate shoulders. I remember stroking that hair, how smoothly my fingers could pass through. How she looked back at me when I did it. How much just looking at her supple moist lips made me want to kiss them. ...