Consensual

Author's Note: She made the mistake of trusting someone. Now it’s too late to change her mind. She is has become dominated and dependent on a person who takes over her life and liberty. I keep saying to myself that all I need to do is to stay calm and I’ll be all right. Someone will come to get me soon. Can you believe this? I’m a prisoner in my own house, caught in a trap of her making and my complicity. A game I was drawn into that has gone seriously wrong. I feel that I can’t trust anyone again. I shift on the bed to get comfortable. It’s another vain hope; she has used specialist equipment to restrain me. ...

I hadn’t been to an undergraduate lecture for at least a decade, but this would prove to be one of my most memorable ever. The funny thing is, I’m long past being an undergrad nor have I enrolled in a new course as a mature student. One of my closest friends is a young college student. We met at a kink party a few months ago and made an immediate connection when we found out we had quiet a bit in common in both worlds. Unfortunately when we met I was an out-of-town visitor and I don’t live in the same state let alone the same city, much to our frustration. But, every now and then one of us manages a short visit. ...

Chapter 1 Sunlight pierced the dense canopy of water-laden leaves, driving up the humidity of the rainforest below. Upon a large moss-padded rock a woman stirred, woken by the steadily rising temperature of the air around her. Her skin was tepid with moisture, though whether from perspiration or the sultry air was impossible to tell. She rubbed her eyes and looked around, dazed. For a moment she was placated by the many beautiful sights and smells around her: the golden glow of the morning sun and the fresh aroma of a hundred species of flora all thriving within a stone’s throw. ...

Alex hung her head in defeat. Why hadn’t she listened to everyone’s warnings earlier? She sighed a little and closed her eyes. All there was left to do now was wait… It was another rough night for Alex as she had attempted to sleep on the train. Not that she could sleep with all the butterflies flying around, making a nuisance of themselves in her stomach. She clicked the LED on her watch and the glowing numbers pronounced that it was 8:00am and that meant she had ten minutes until the train slowed and she could disembark. ...

Author's Note: This story is largely real. It is compressed and addended with a few of my GF/BFF/Mistress/Slave’s (flavor of the week? Love of my life. You choose the acronym based on who is licking the boot.) latest fantasy/plans. Enjoy, and do email me if you’ve got something you’d think we should try. Her eyes wide with a mix of sarcastic humor, surprise and perhaps a little disgust “…just know this, there is no fucking way that thing is going inside me.” Call it famous first words? A year later, her comment on my PA is a funny memory. Mel, my Mistress and switch, is getting me read for our little party. But really brief background is in order. ...

Author's Note: This story is fan fiction from the U.S. television sitcom “Laverne & Shirley”, and is meant to get stay consistent with the show’s theme and tone that takes place in the late 1950s/early 1960s. Therefore, it’s PG-rated at most, and may not be for everyone. They were the best of friends since elementary school growing up in Milwaukee, Wisconsin who complemented each other in personality and appearance. There was demure Cindy Feeney, who stood about 5 foot 4 inches tall, with short yet stylish brown hair that ended around the base of her neck, a slender frame, with fair skin and blue eyes. She dreamt of being swept off her feet by a handsome doctor, settling down somewhere warm to raise a family. And of course, there was her best friend in the world, Laverne De Fazio, who stood 5 foot 6 inches tall, with long sandy brown hair, brown eyes, with an average yet tomboyish frame and build. Streetwise and tough, Laverne always made sure no one picked on Shirley. In turn, Shirley kept Laverne away from the bad influences that would’ve ruined her life as a teenager. ...

Part 1 I decided to write this story to tell how two entirely separate interests – my love of bondage and my boyfriend’s love of women in uniforms – combined to form something much more powerful and exciting than the constituent parts. My name is Gayle Travers and I’m a red-headed Welsh woman. In this country, that is a dictionary definition of ‘feisty’ – or, as we say here, stroppy bitch with attitude. When I was growing up, all my heroes were feisty women – on TV, in films, in books, in comics – and they were strong, assertive and independent, right up to the point where they were caught by the baddies (usually men) and tied up. In some cases, they escaped on their own but in most cases they had to be rescued by the hero. So when I was a kid, I always wanted to play with the boys and get tied up. If I managed to escape, that was great, I’d basically won my battle against the baddies. If I didn’t manage to escape, that was great too, as I had to suffer whatever punishment or torture they chose, whether it was tickling, being left tied up for hours or, on one memorable occasion, being lightly spanked. ...

Steve and Monica met each other in a local bar. They talked for a couple of hours, getting to really know each other. After a while they felt their own urges building up inside them. Wanting a release, Steve made the first move, “Would you like to go back to my place for a while, maybe kick back and watch a movie?” Steve, feeling he had finally conquered a rejection problem he had for a while, got a very unexpected answer. ...

The BDSM Expo is raging, as it has been for already two days now. We check in at the hotel on Tuesday and from Friday morning me and Carrie were lost in the aisles of the convention floor. The BDSM Expo has plenty of things to entertain us, you see. We did also a lot of purchases. I had so much fun watching Carrie squirming when I said that I absolutely had to get those hinged handcuffs, and that latex catsuit and also those latex panties. ...

Author's Note: My wife and I enjoy bondage games and this is a scenario we hope to try shortly Chapter 1 I was spreadeagled and face down, wrists and ankles stretched out across the bed. This allowed me a little margin to squirm, but nothing much. I felt the weight of my own body pressing down upon my cock, the cock she had trussed up just prior to securing my limbs. She had sheathed my erection in a single nylon stocking, using another to tie around my balls before using a third nylon to crush my shaft at the base, the centre, and agonisingly at the tip. Everything bulged, everything was being crushed by the weight of my own stranded form. ...