Consensual

Allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Ann, I’m a 23 year old undergraduate living in Singapore. I stand at 1.6 meters, weighs 47 kilograms, measures 34C-24-33. After months of intensive studying, I was finally done with my exams in May, hence marking an end to my days in the university. There are many people and things which I would fondly remember, but for now, I’m eager to move onto the next stage of my life. God has been kind to me, I’ve already secured a job and would be working from July onwards. Which meant that I’ve got 2 full month of vacation! ...

Allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Ann, I’m a 23 year old undergraduate living in Singapore. I stand at 1.6 meters, weighs 47 kilograms, measures 34C-24-33. It took me a while to recover from the tormenting session at home. I had ugly marks on my wrist and ankles, a pair of very sore nipples, painful vagina lips and very numb clitoris. For days, I had to give up pretty skirts for long jeans and long-sleeved shirts. I was so scared that my self-bondage sessions would leave me with scars and permanent damage that I completely stayed away from self bondage for months. ...

Allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Ann, I’m a 22 year old undergraduate living in Singapore. I stand at 1.6 meters, weighs 47 kilograms, measures 34C-24-33. My indulgence for self bondage started around the same time when I first had a personal computer to use. I was just 16, and doing research for a school project. By a beautiful coincident, I stumbered upon a website on self bondage. I felt so wrong to be surfing such a site, but as I read the stories posted, there was a strange attraction which propelled me to read on. One story after another, I read on; Foreign words like “hog tie”, “leather cuffs”, “ball gags” became more familar. Before I realised, I’ve been glued to the screen for hours. ...

Allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Ann, I’m a 22 year old undergraduate living in Singapore. I stand at 1.6 meters, weighs 47 kilograms, measures 34C-24-33. The new school term has started. Ever since my daring, almost outrageous, self bondage in the school field, my face turns red everytime I passed by the field. The memory was bitter sweet, filled with pain and a strange after-taste of pleasure. As much as I’m physically pushed to my limits, the bondage and torture brought me to an ecstasy I’ve never felt before. I decided that I shall have a light session of self bondage first, and if it still excites me, then I’ll go for a longer session. I’ll decide if self bondage’s the hobby for me after the 2 sessions. ...

I am 30 year old male. I have been married for a year. My wife Jess was not aware of my passion of bondage yet, but I have a plan to change that. Jess had to go to her job for a few hours. For the past week I have been working on some stuff in my workshop. Now was the time to use them. She was going to be gone for about two hours. I first put a note on the kitchen tabe where I knew she would find it. ...

Author's Note: Meg surrenders, knowing she will be broken and rebuilt as He sees fit. Chapter 1 The moment of truth, the moment when she could no longer escape, when her body was tightly bound and at the mercy of another, was always the same for Meg. It always aroused her. It always made her short of breath. It scared her, too, because she knew what could happen. She was no novice, and had offered herself to many dominants. ...

I arrive at my Mistress’ house at 9am and she’s waiting for me at the door looking intimidating. Dressed in knee-high boots, stockings, black leather skirt and a tight black corset, her breasts trying to escape from the tight confines of the corset and her long blonde hair in a ponytail, with her impossibly long eye lashes and luscious red lips, she is the picture of power and control. As I walk past her, she catches the cheek of my arse hard with her paddle, the sound of the leather on my jeans echoes around the hallway. ...

Author's Note: Author’s note for the reality challenged: This story deals with breath control. (Duh.) This is a really, really, dangerous activity. One which I’ve read (and I believe) is impossible to perform safely. No one can tell exactly where “the line” is which will result in brain damage or death. In fact, from what I’ve read, the vast majority of people who die from playing with breath control are people who are experienced in it. People who think that, because they’ve done it dozens of times, that that means they know how to do it safely. I tried as hard as I could to design a scenario which was as safe as possible. But I’ll freely admit that I’m not even one of those people who’s done this, and thinks he’s an expert, now. I’ve never done this, which means I’m describing how I think things would feel. ...

It was time to turn over. Brenda had been lying out for half an hour on her back and knew she would burn if she continued. Being a natural redhead had certain disadvantages. She reversed her position and laid flat on her tummy. “Scott?” she called out to her husband. He was in the kitchen fixing a drink. “Yeah?” “Would you put lotion on my back?” Scott came out and sat next to Brenda on her lounge chair. ...

It was just a feeling as it began and now it has become a way of life. It started in college when I was dating my first lover, he stated by holding my wrists over my head, he told me that it would allow me to reach a deeper orgasm. In graduate school my Psychology professor requested that a class member become a “case study” for our human sexuality class, I knew he wanted it to be me. As I raised my hand I only thought I knew what was in store for me. When the professor outlined the fact that I would learn more about my ‘submissive’ side I knew this would unlock part of me that I craved. ...