Humiliation

“I think I’m ready to tell you one of my secrets,” she said, a blush creeping up her cheeks. This was it! We had been dating for over a month now and she was finally going to open up to me. I mean, I’m not one of those ‘touchy-feely’ guys who needs to have a good cry every few days to stay connected with his feelings. But up until now, Vanessa had been a virtual Ice Princess. She was great in bed – hot, aggressive, almost like a tigress. And she was a knock-out. I’d never dated anyone who could turn heads just by walking into the bar. And she dressed to kill – stilettos seemed to be her shoe of choice (which suited me fine – I was naturally taller than her but when she was wearing those 4 inchers, she was actually a tad taller than me). Tight leather skirts, silk blouses – she was the complete package. ...

Author's Note:It’s been a very long time since I dipped my toe into the waters of writing, the muse had basically left (suppose I should tie her down next time), but this scene just popped into my head and would not let go. The setting is pseudo-Victorian, but makes no claims at accuracy. Enjoy.* Part 1 In a maneuver born of much practice Eliza carefully balanced the silver tray in her hands as she climbed the narrow stairs toward the second floor, heels clicking on the worn and ancient wood as she did so. Especially mindful not to shake the steaming teapot she was carrying, to say nothing of the fine china cup and saucer or the pots of milk and sugar, she made her way out into a broad hallway. The house was mostly deserted at the moment, the doors of empty rooms yawning wide open, save for the last. Stepping up to the finely carved and richly stained piece of oak she carefully shifted the tray to balance on one arm while gently knocking on the door to announce her presence. ...

THUMP-THUMP! I was in my apartment trying to watch TV, but that damned noise from upstairs was getting on my nerves. I had never met the woman who lived in the apartment above mine, but if she kept that up much longer, It was going to happen soon, and it wouldn’t be pleasant! For now, I just decided to try the old “bang on the ceiling trick.” I stood on my chair and gave the ceiling a couple of whacks with a book - “WHUMPWHUMP!” Almost immediately came a pair of thumps in reply. But there was something else… some sort of muffled sounding yell. ...

The scene had begun, but nothing was happening. The camera hovered over me, its lens glinting as the zoom was adjusted. So I made a show of struggling, of pulling against the restraints, of pouting in despair. As if I needed to struggle to know I was stuck. Thick iron shackles encircled my wrists; these were chained around a metal bar, which was bolted into the floorboards at both ends. My ankles were likewise shackled, their chain wrapped around the very same metal bar. I stood doubled-over another metal bar, which was bolted to two vertical bars, which in turn were also drilled into the floor. The horizontal bar against my navel held my legs straight, ass naked and exposed, pussy dripping with arousal. ...

Part 1: Day One Our week starts on a Sunday afternoon. My wife is out of town for 10 days, out of the country even, and I have arranged with you to grant you control over me for seven days, inclusive, from Sunday 3 pm to Sunday 3 pm. We meet that afternoon and we visit the same airport hotel where we had played last. The scent of your incense masking the smell of decay in the room, I remove my clothes so you can inspect me and make sure I have followed your instructions. My public hair was gone–not merely shaven but waxed off smooth, nothing to be seen on my cock or scrotum. ...

Author's Note: : the pictures feature fetish model EMILY MARILYN. She was kind enough to give me permission to use them for my story. (In case you are wondering where to get the complete photo set from, there is none. These pictures are actually just screenshots from a custom video she did for me. And if you are interested in the video, email EMILY and ask her nicely. Maybe she’ll put parts of it on her website.) ...

So here I am tied to my huge 4 post bed. I am kneeling legs around the pole, crossed and tied. My hands are tied behind my back. My girlfriend has me dressed in a little short sexy dress that she bought just for me, behind my back. I have some very high heels on as well, with my toenails and fingernails both done up with my face also receiving a very feminine makeover. ...

Chapter One Samantha moaned softly into her pillow, cursing the suns rays as they seemed to follow her around the bed. One eye cautiously opened to check the time, reading just after noon on her nightstand display. It would be several more hours until her first appointment. She moved her pillow once again to escape the sunlight and the faint creek of leather escaped from under the satin sheets as she settled in for a few more hours. ...

Chapter 1 Trevor Foster was, in many ways, kind of a stereotype. He was a tall, heavyset black man with the kind of muscles that he earned through hours in the gym each week. He was loud, quick to laugh, and not afraid to get into a fight when the mood struck him. He was a linebacker for his college’s football team, and he had a scholarship riding on what would hopefully be his career. ...

Author's Note: I like the concept of women being forced to do hard labour (I am a woman). These types of stories are a fantasy of mine and I feel there is not enough of these types of stories. Katrina was so happy. She was 25 and had got enough money from her job as a lawyer to go on holiday alone. She came from Scotland where the weather was always dull and cold. She had long thick dark blonde hair, D cup breasts and was almost 6 feet. It was a fairly isolated desert island near Australia. It was not part of Australia. It was independent but not shown on any maps. It was fairly large. It had white sandy beaches, palm trees and luxury hotels. Katrina had checked into a 5-star hotel and after unpacking her things and eating breakfast was now sunbathing on the beach. It didn’t make her suspicious that she was the only one there. What she didn’t know was that this island was a tourist trap. The only free people were those who were born there. ...