Breathplay

Amanda Night left the party like she had left almost every party since she had turned 13, completely drunk and wasted. She refused the offer of a ride home, telling anyone that would listen to her slurred words that she could drive better drunk than any of them could sober. No one believed her, as it was a well known fact that she was facing serious jail time for multiple drunk driving infractions, including an injury accident that promised at least a year in jail. She had not been expressly invited to the party, but she was a part of some reality show on one of the millions of channels on the tube and as such was always privy to whatever parties were happening. The network that broadcast her series secretly made every effort to get her into every Hollywood social setting it could, since her being drunk and spoiled and slutty were what made her show the minor hit it was. So no one tried to stop her when she slid behind her moms late model BMW, and screeched off. It was one of the few nights in the last few months where there wasn’t a camera crew following closely behind her, and that lack of supervision was about to cost her everything. She pulled out of the long driveway, and a bit confused about where she was, immediately took a wrong turn. Even in her inebriated state she knew right away that the scenery was all wrong. She was feeling sick to her stomach and just wanted to lie down for a couple minutes, when a turn came up too quickly for her dulled senses to compensate for. The car went straight over a mail box, then planted itself into a hedge, with Amanda shaken up badly, but otherwise unhurt. She could see she had come to rest outside of one of the countless mansions that dotted this side of the hills of Hollywood. Groggily she opened the door and threw up, barely able to keep herself from falling into her own sick. She groped around for her purse and phone, but could not find them under the seat of the car where they had fallen. Someone was coming towards her from the house, and Amanda waited patiently for whoever it was to arrive and fix things. A slender, late middle aged woman appeared in front of Amanda. ...

Author's Note: I am very active in Second Life and have several novella length fetish fiction stories available there. So if you enjoyed this come into SL and say hi. Katrinka Karu!! Chapter 1 Chloe heard the staccato clicks of heels outside of her apartment and couldn’t resist hurrying to the door’s peephole to have a look. The building catered to wealthy, single patrons – the very reason Chloe chose it. Still single at thirty-something, she hoped to parlay her wealth and attractiveness into a long-term relationship. Unfortunately, the only other tenant on this floor was Mr. Jenkins, and while he was an attractive candidate, he seemed both reclusive and standoffish. She’d only spoken with him twice, and he seemed uninterested in her attentions. ...

Author's Note: This is my first story so feel free to comment on what can be improved Rose was a 18 year old girl with light brown hair living in New York With her mother and her sister. Rose was 5,1 feet tall and had a relatively slender build. The summer break had just started so she thought this would be a good day to lounge about in her night dress and watch TV while her mother and sister are out shopping for the day. ...

Satine was the most desired, most well compensated professional dominatrix in all of New York City. This was for a very good reason, as she was close to six feet tall, with long, straight fire red hair, massive, firm and natural tits, and a serious sadistic streak that she loved using on wealthy perverts. Bob Eastwick was a wealthy pervert, except his tastes ran towards dominating women, not being dominated by them. He had noticed Satine over a year before, and had worked constantly over that time to find out everything about her. He knew that she genuinely hated men, that she worked in an upscale brothel located in a Soho, that she was fabulously wealthy with her lifestyle, and most importantly that she lived out on Long Island, in a large, ocean front house, with an assortment of women coming and going in her life. That discovery of her house, and also of her real name, (The not nearly as exotic Jennifer Monroe) allowed Eastwick to plot his obsession. To kidnap and take Satine and keep her as a bondage sex slave for as long as she remained beautiful. ...

She couldn’t feel her knees at the moment, pressed hard onto the hard surface of the table. They were numb, tired of the constant pressure. She actually wished they still hurt. It would have made it a little easier for her to maintain her position if she were more aware of all her body parts. Mentally, yes, she was pretty damned aware of her body, if not so much physically. And she was getting plenty of other distress signals from other nerve endings. Why did they bother, sending her those “move me, stretch me, relieve me!” messages, didn’t they understand how pointless it was? And how relatively unimportant it was, compared with what was coming? ...

She was a self bondage addict. She was obsessed with tying herself up as tightly and as cruelly and she could and as often as she could. Every rope, strap and gag was applied just as tight as she could stand, sometimes more than she could stand. She loved every second of her self imposed torments and I loved to watch her do it. She was a gorgeous woman a dream come true for any red blooded heterosexual man. Her shoulder length hair was dark brown not quite black, which contrasted perfectly with her pale white skin and bright green eyes. Large mouth with luscious full lips. She stood about 5’ 6" in her bare feet with long legs. Large breasts, but not too large, just the right size to bind and torment. Her ass was amazing, nice and round further accentuated by her tiny waist. For years I secretly watched her tie herself up in more and more elaborate ways. She was very creative, very masochistic and cruel to herself. This time I could not resist I decided it was time to make myself known, she was never going to forget this night that was for sure. ...

Author's Note: This following is an Olympic parody that tries to re-imagine how things might play out if various fetishes and sexual acts were converted into Olympic-style sports. I have written this in the form of a newsbroadcast with a bit of overarching plotlines but the various events themselves vary greatly in their sexual content so take advantage of the section index below to pick out (or avoid) whatever takes your fancy. I hope people enjoy this, it was fun to write and try to come up with things that would be sexy, vaguely plausible, and in some cases be direct parodies of existing Olympic events themselves. ...

It was a bright, clear Sunday morning as Siona arrived at her therapist’s large country house, twenty minutes after she had phoned him to make the emergency appointment. Her therapist was called Dan, a good-looking man with black hair and sympathetic brown eyes, led her through to his consulting room, at the back of the house and invited Siona to sit in on the large black leather couch. Siona was comforted by the fact that even though she had only been in therapy for three weeks, Dan didn’t seem bothered about being disturbed at home on a Sunday. ...

Author's Note: This story is a spin-off from one of my favorite stories of all time, Group XS by Dr. Saavik. It’s not necessary to have read that beforehand, but you really should… it’s pretty great. Tucked away beneath a non-descript brick manor off of a sleepy, tree-lined road lies a classroom. Its walls are lined with the letters of the alphabet, sentence diagrams, and maps of the world. The teacher’s desk sits at the front, next to a large blackboard. A shiny red apple rests on it next to a stack of papers to grade. Several rows of desks occupy the middle of the room. ...

“I am here to punish you and break your spirit, Making you feel just like the animal I know you are..” I press my boot into your back, shoving you into the dirt “I’m here to make you pant, Can you do that for me boy? Can you pant for me?” You don’t answer and I lean over to pull your head up by your hair.. “Did you hear me?” You nod and look down, I twist your hair between my fingers “Pant for me, Doggie.” I twist your hair until you pant loudly, just like a thirsty dog would do - I pet your head lightly “Good boy, Want a treat?” I giggle and stand up, I push you back down into the cold ground “Lick the dirt” I command, you protest “Lick. the. dirt” I press my boot harder into the small of your back until it starts hurting. You run your tongue over the dirty ground… I crouch down to watch you do it.. My hand resting on your head “Don’t rush it, I want to see you take your time.” You lick more slowly and I laugh evilly “I should have made that mud” I smile and pull you up by your hair, “Come on, Slave. I’m going to teach you how to behave when you’re with me.” ...