Author's Note: I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please feel free to comment below. My slave, Ai was kneeling in front of me, facing the corner, naked of course, ankles crossed, and hands behind her neck, wearing a collar, and leather wrist and ankle restraints, which was her standard slave “uniform”. It was the one year anniversary of our first bondage session. And tonight I had special plans for her - very special plans indeed. ...
Chapter One Serendipity is defined as “the occurrence of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way. So let me tell you about my serendipity event . Two years ago during the summer before my final year in college I worked for a middle aged couple, Helen and David Roth in their commercial real estate business. They owned a couple of strip malls and a fairly large apartment building. Mrs. Roth was the power in their business. She worked the deals while David did the grunt work. Physically she was taller, heavier and I think a few years older than him. But it worked for them. I was hired to organize and digitize all their files. David was usually friendly to me, she on the other hand barley knew I was alive. Fast forward to about 10 weeks ago. I was on line and I Googled “Mature Dominatrix”. OK. That’s what I am into. At least as a fantasy. I live in the middle of nowhere where the closest pro Domme is a couple of hundred miles away. And at that time I doubted I would ever have the nerve to visit such a lady. So imagine the fucking shockwave that went through me when I found an online photo stream featuring Mrs. Roth. At first I thought it was one of those Google things. Maybe someone referred to her as a “Dominatrix of Business” or maybe a less than complimentary comment by an someone she went up against. There were lots of those. The heading on the photo stream said there were well over a thousand pictures. The first fifty or so showed her in her home, dressed in many different outfits. There were a lot more smiles in those pictures than I ever saw in the office. Some with David, some with her puppies. I was about to give up when a series of images of her in various undergarments started to display. Not Vickie’s Secret stuff, more like old style foundation garments. Long leg girdles and sturdy bras. Stuff woman of a certain age would have worn in the fifties. I was fascinated to say the least. And not a little excited. I continued through the pictures. More foundation garments with various see through baby dolls and teddies showing up and then I got to the money shot. Mrs. Helen Roth in knee high, high-heeled black leather boots, black fishnet stockings, a short black leather skirt and a un buttoned white blouse hanging open. She wore no bra, but you couldn’t quite se her nipples on her large tits. She had a lethal looking leather paddle in her hand and I had my dick in mine. The next three picture were her in the same outfit in various poses. But it was the next one that so surprised me that I actually stopped what my hand was doing. This was not a picture of her. It was someone dressed as a fetish French maid. I didn’t really understand it until I read the caption. The maid was David, her husband. ...
Prologue My wife’s eight years younger than I am so you could say I was a cradle robber but we’ve been in love since we met in our twenties. Paula’s introduction into bondage had started while we dating. I had brought it up in conversation and as the interest grew had shown her my small collection of toys and magazines. Most of the magazines were geared towards the female persuasion which I thoroughly enjoy. Over time she helped craft several of her bondage sessions we did from the pictures within. I also had several magazines with women dominating their male subs with all types of torture including cbt, spanking; sucking the proffered dildo and driving home. For many years bondage was a mutual thing between us; with her playing the sub much more often than dominate because she doesn’t share my desire to be a dominate mistress. For her the real turn on was the unexpected twist of those very sensitive parts. I enjoyed building her to multiple orgasms with toys or my cunning tongue then completing the task by driving home “the real thing” as she says while she was very immobile and out of control; something I enjoy as well. Over the course of time however things changed as they always do. She still enjoys our making love with all its passion in the moment but her desire for the bondage play has dampened time and “the change” which leaves me to the off moment when she’s gone and all’s quite at home. When I play alone she’d normally make checks on me for safety reasons and the occasional ass slap or ride. ...
Author's Note: My first attempt at a longer story so please feel free to comment. James Miller slipped the black, lacy bra over his head and made sure it was in a comfortable position before grabbing the gel-filled balloons he used to simulate breasts. He stuck one of them over each pectoral and made sure that they weren’t visible. He then slid the dance belt up his shaved legs and tucked his junk under it. It was followed a black, lacy thong that matched the bra. He turned to check himself out in the mirror. His reflection was that of a woman. He had a long blonde wig on over his close cropped hair and had shaved all hair on his chin or beneath his nose. With some black eyeliner and mascara around his blue eyes, rouge on his cheeks, and red lipstick coating his lips, his face almost passed for a woman. As for the body, with no body hair and no fat and the dance belt and balloons, he easily passed for a very gorgeous woman. ...
Author's Note: Synopsis: Animal rights activist Lucie is not exactly excited when her highschool’s Egyptian arts teacher asks her to help with a project in the museum. - Note: It’s more of a horror story than anything else. Entomophobes beware. P.S. English is not my mothertongue, so please bear with me. “For they have seen the King appearing in power As a god who lives on his fathers And feeds on his mothers ...
I take off my glasses and rub my eyes, looking away from the computer monitor in an attempt to dispel the beginnings of a headache. The clock on my wall says it is too late to be studying. I smile, turning on my swivel chair to look down the length of my very small, very narrow, very cramped (but en-suite) university room. I had arrived at university with the intention of going wild and breaking from my boring tradition of being a good girl, of doing my homework the night it is set, but have somehow slipped into my old ways without realising it. I curse myself and get to my feet, wondering what the rest of the campus was doing on this warm Thursday evening. ...
Author's Note:Before getting to the story, I wanted to right a brief intro for anyone who chooses to read it. First of all, I’d like to thank you for taking the time to check out my work. Secondly, I wanted to give you an idea of what you can expect, since it is quite a commitment to make it all the way through, as those of you who read my first story now surely know. That first story, ‘Erica’s Capture’, got some mixed reviews, primarily because we all have different things that we look for in our kink, and some people would have preferred to have it go in a different direction than it did. I thought I’d take a minute to give readers an idea of what they can expect here, in order to avoid disappointment. This will be the story of the abduction of a young girl, and the gradual breaking of her will. It will involve continual restraint and confinement that starts fairly mildly and gradually grows more and more restrictive as she is trained and broken. There will not be a turning of the tables in this story, and our young captive has little or no chance of escape or rescue. If you’re looking for a story with a more positive potential ending, you should check out ‘Erica’s Capture’ if you haven’t already. In short, I will attempt to chronicle the creation of a slave from unwilling cloth (constrained by my limited writing ability and as filtered through my own fantasies and imagination), and I hope that you enjoy the ride. ...
I never was into any of that BDSM stuff - my husband should have known that but maybe it was his horniness and a hopeless overestimation of the power of pop cultural influence that made him think different. Anyway, the recent success of books like fifty shades of grey and my discovering of his online surf history did come in handy at a point where I loathed him so much that getting back at him was the only thing I desired, even if it meant my own downfall - if only I had known how deep I was going to fall… ...
It had been almost a year since I had been to the dungeon and I was itching to go again. I really didn’t like having to pay the money, but with nobody in my life who would understand my fantasies, my best outlet was the professional mistresses I had been to a few times before. I went out to the dungeon web site and was disappointed to discover that all of the mistresses that I had visited in the past were gone. There was a new crop of them now, but I didn’t find them as attractive as the originals, so I started surfing the web to find a new dungeon. My surfing was successful as I quickly found another dungeon that looked to be fairly new, was not that far away, and looked to be stocked with several young, thin, attractive mistresses. I started an email discussion with one of them who went by the name of Mistress Jennifer. The emails went on for several weeks and over that time I started to slowly share with her my desires and fantasies. Then one day she emailed me with a day and time to come for a visit. This took me by surprise, since at the other dungeon, I had always asked for a date / time and they either said yes or no or suggested a different appointment time. It was the upcoming Saturday evening and I was instructed to be there at 10:40 PM prompt. It seemed a bit late, and her forwardness made me a bit nervous, but of course I said yes. All week, I could think of nothing else. ...
“We run a tight ship here, Ms Dremmer,” the bald department head lectured from the front, and in the same pace he was storming along the corridor. Mr Wicklebimm couldn’t be bothered to hold any door open for the young woman struggling to keep up. “Do not think of your first day at work as a first day, but as work. There is no need for idleness just because your notepad still has all its sheets blank.” ...