Author's Note: I just wanted to try my hand at a different type of story…for me at least. Let me know if I should continue it. Chapter One Bonita threw the paper aside in disgust. “There’s nothing playing! Is our second date too early for me to tie you up and fuck your brains out?” I was about to mention wanting to see the new Pixar feature, when the second part of her speech reached my brain. There was a definite offer of sex, but there was also a condition. ...
Part I Bill was in control of one of the largest corporations in America. His life was broken up into three separate parts. One part was with his beautiful rich wife. The second part was his love of bondage. The last part of his life was his work. His wife didn’t enjoy his sexual fetish. She knew that he was into bondage but she wanted no part of it. When her father died she inherited the company. She put me in charge and I’ve been running the corporation for three years. My life was great but I also wanted my wife to partake in my bondage games. Sandra just wasn’t able to enjoy it with me. I chose to just use self bondage to satisfy my love of bondage. If I was unfaithful I would be left without a dime. Her prenuptial agreement was perfect. ...
Author's Note: This short offering is less extreme than my other fantasy stories as it is a factual account of a recent bondage session. I have laid everything ready on the bed. These are a selections of straps, a waterproof jacket with a hood and rubberised lining, a whole head rubber hood with apertures only for my mouth and nostrils, an inflatable gag, and my home made nipple clamps. These are two small steel bull-dog clips with holes in the handles, through which I have threaded a short linking cord. ...
My love says she wants to try something different… She tells me she wants me fresh and clean, pliable, and horny. The horny part is NEVER a problem. Fresh and clean are easily taken care of with a hot shower. Pliable? Not sure what that is all about. As I scrub away the day like so much dirt, I think about what she said. Pliable?!? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I wash myself thoroughly, maybe a bit too thoroughly if my cock is any indication. Then comes the razor. I shave my head and face, ensuring that they are soft and smooth. I then turn my attention further south, trimming, grooming, and shaving until the base of my shaft and my balls are as soft and smooth as my head. The slight scrape of the razor always feels good over my balls. The feeling is hard to describe, but it does nothing to help relieve the firmness in my groin. ...
Chapter 1 We were about a half-hour outside the city when I first started feeling uneasy. I was in a stranger’s car being transported down a highway at one o’clock in the morning, and the lights along the road were becoming less frequent, signaling our entry into the more sparsely populated countryside. Of course, it was only a vague uneasiness that I felt at that point. A premonition that this excursion would end up being an embarrassing story I would tell to my friends: the time I took a late night trip upstate with three random girls, all in pursuit of getting laid by one of them. I even somewhat relished the idea of telling that story. Sure, my friends would laugh at me, but they’d also kind of admire my dedication. It brought a smile to my face, anticipating the reactions of my friends to this little caper. And perhaps that was why I didn’t act on my uneasiness. ...
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. ...
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. ...
Part 1 Brian Carter was a very successful businessman, having over the last ten years made several million dollars as a day trader. He was 38, 5'10" 165lb and fit body and lived in a penthouse condo in Miami by himself, as he had not met the woman of his dreams. His fantasies were of being owned by an extreme dominatrix who would control his life and make him her slave. While in his home alone, he was always in some form of bondage, which was at minimum a collar, manacles on his ankles and a chastity belt, while fantasying she had locked him in the bondage. When he dated, the woman were more into his wealth, and normal sex, but were not the woman he desired to call his Mistress. When not online trading, Brian entered chat rooms on AOL, seeking to find the perfect Mistress, but he knew so many of the Dommes on line were fakes or only wanted money to abuse him as a slave. He occasionally he did arrange to see a professional Domme and he enjoyed being the slave for the night serving her every need, but it wasn’t the same as his dream to find the right mistress to be owned completely. ...
Part 1 I stood at the big bay window overlooking the bay and straight up the hazy gulf. You could see for miles, but I was more interested in the view from the strip of gleaming white sand about 50 yards from my place. As I trained my Zeiss binoculars to the strip immediately opposite I could see my target. There were a lot of people basking in the sun this mid-week early afternoon, but the one that stood out was a dark-haired woman in a white bikini, which contrasted superbly with her chocolate-colored tan. ...