This is a story about a song we all know and have most likely sung in a drunken stupor at some karaoke bar. Hotel California, you can check out but you can never leave, to be exact. Set just outside of Vegas, this small 3 story hotel was a beautiful site. Although it was not as grand as the Luxor or the palace, it had its own appeal of being a nice quiet place to relax to or so our poor Eddie thought. ...
Author's Note: This multipart story is about Lauren and Dean, who meet in college and marry after graduation. They move to a quaint N.C. town, where Dean opens a rare book store. They make friends and join an exclusive Swingers Club. Meanwhile, Lauren and her girlfriends get involved in lesbian bondage sex and ass fucking. She eventually gets Dean to take part. Soon, many of the Club members are holding private bondage sex parties. Dean begins making daytime bondage sex Housecalls at some of the wife’s homes, while their husbands are at work. The Swingers Club adopts bondage sex games for its regular meetings. Finally, the adventurous women are kidnapped by a group of men and taken to a secluded woods for an all day session of fucking and sucking and more! ...
I glanced to the left of my computer screen checking the monitor for the dungeon camera. The hi-tech equipment picked up the slow, if somewhat strained, rise and fall of her chest against the tight leather of the straight jacket. Her legs were encased in a double leg boot; a skintight kid leather helmet covered her head and the extremely large gag that had taken a fair amount of work to install. A butt plug and dildo were held firmly inside her by a crotch strap attached to the jacket. Wide, heavy leather straps held her down starting at the forehead then every 12” or so down to the last one that crossed the toe of the boot forcing her feet into an even more incredible arch. ...
Author's Note: Part complete fiction, partly fiction based on truth. Please enjoy “How did I end up like this?” I wondered. But of course I knew the answer. I would have asked the question aloud, but the very large gag in my mouth made speech impossible. My master had forced my mouth open, and then pushed in a ring gag so that the ring fitted behind my teeth forcing my mouth into a wide “O”. A wide strap was attached to each side of the ring, and my master had buckled it tightly behind my head. The ring gag itself would have permitted me to speak somewhat, even scream in a limited way, but Master quickly pushed a deflated rubber ball through the ring. A couple of pumps and the ball was fully inflated in my mouth. That silenced me. The taste of the ball and the complete control of my speech delighted me. My master had larger, heavier gags, of course, as well as hoods to encase my entire head and throat. But this gag was perfect-like everything my master did. I was silenced, but could breathe easily through my nose, and I could still make tiny noises in my throat and nose when the occasion required-a whipping or other pain infliction for example or to stifle my cries of pleasure during our long sex sessions. ...
Author's Note: This is sort of a companion piece to my Giselle story and will incorporate some of the same characters. I hope you enjoy it! Chapter 1 Bert Jackson was tired. A tall, fit and good looking 46, he’d spent the largest part of his life in the U.S. Army. After Infantry AIT and Airborne School he had served around the world and had retired after 26 years as a Command Sergeant Major. He was surprised at his retirement ceremony to see an officer he had worked for years ago in Baghdad. The Colonel now headed the United Nations Trafficking in Persons task force, combating human trafficking and he wanted Bert working for them. Their American agents were assigned Immigration and Customs Enforcement and sent to FLETC. As Federal agents, they were authorized to carry their issue SIG P226. For two years now Bert battled human trafficking. It wasn’t as exciting as it sounded; he had never fired his pistol and it involved a lot of paperwork. ...
Jess woke up in a daze. She tried to move but realized her wrists and ankles were tied spread eagled to a bed. She looked up and saw her hands were in leather bondage cuffs, rendering them useless. She looked down to see she was naked. Suddenly two women walked in. One was petite, with B cups, the other one had a large ass and D cups. Both were wearing tight shirts and black spandex shorts. ...
A branch snapped behind him and the hunter turned, raising his rifle. He was startled to see a person covered in mud from head to toe carrying a knife and running at him. “Stop right there mister and drop the knife.” The muddy man skidded to a stop. “I don’t want to hurt you, I just need your gun. I need it!” It was a woman underneath all that mud! ...
Author's Note: This story is designed to make sense on its own, but it’s one of a series of stories I have written about Theo’s BDSM Slave Service. All the others have been published on Literotica. If you like this one and want to read about more of Theo’s slaves, some of whom are mentioned in passing here, head on over to Literotica and look me up. You’ll also find a few more recent stories about loving, consensual bondage that I’ve been writing to take a break from Theo. ...
For the last bondage scenario in this story, I am indebted to the wonderful website www.houseofgord.com and a picture I once saw there. I usually come up with my own ideas, but this one is so damn cool I had to pay it tribute! I awoke in darkness. Last time I’d been conscious, I’d been in a light, bright, sterile environment. Now, my eyes opened to nothing but blackness and a soft, musty smell arose from what felt like old floorboards beneath me. Disconcerted, I closed my eyes again and concentrated on the sensations from the rest of my body. I was chilled from inertia – from lying on the floor in a strange place for god knows how long, and naked to boot. I could feel the air circulating over my skin, and the vaguely warm, rough surface of the wooden floor beneath me. ...
I don’t know why I went to the club early. Maybe I figured if I went early I could leave early and get my Saturday night ritual over with then go back home. Every time I go looking for someone all I get is a headache from the loud music, strobe lights, and cigarette smoke. Even when I do score I don’t really get anything out of it. Cruising had lost its appeal a long time ago, but what else was I going to do except wander through the smoke, light, and blur of faces. ...