Author's Note: This is an updated version of the story “Beauty and the Boots” that incorporates the addition to the story made in the comments to the original version of the story published by Utopia Stories along with a few other minor changes to the wording of the original version. This is meant to be a replacement of the original version of the story with a better version, and is not a new story. ...
Author's Note: This is my first erotic story. Judging from the typical content on this website it will be rather extreme for most readers. The character of Bianca has obviously been inspired by the most beautiful fetish model of my lifetime. All the other events and details simply represent my ultimate fantasy if I was in fact so lucky to actually be Bianca, or her new Mistress. Please feel free to criticize my work, as I am certainly not the most skilled writer in the world. Enjoy!! ...
Author's Note: This can be read by itself or as a sequel to Brittany Gets Rented by a Sadist Brittany laid in her latex vac bed waiting to be released. Her mistress Theresa and Theresa’s sadistic friend Kelsey, who had branded Brittany with a K the day before, walked in the room and turned the light on. Kelsey started looking through her phone as Theresa unzipped the latex vac bed. “I have a friend who trains little bitches like Brittany here. She holds sessions where she trains pathetic slaves to be pets. I would love it if I could take the bitch over to her and have her trained. Would that be ok with you Theresa?” Kelsey asked as she flashed Brittany an evil look. “Yes that’d be fine babe” Theresa replied. ...
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who is enjoying my adventures thus far! I. Another New Purchase It had been a few weeks since I had been to the bookstore. Sure, I had thought about going back, and indeed I did have a reason to go back (another item to purchase and test). But it had been so long I thought that Miss might think I chickened out, or lost interest. Would there be some sort of repercussion for not keeping with the seemingly weekly visit? Should there be? Would it even matter? To many variables, just go in and get on with it! ...
Author's Note: This is my first foray into writing erotic fiction. I usually write more “vanilla” stories, so this is a bit of a change. Feedback and critique on the writing style, pacing, imagery, and whatnot is greatly appreciated. I planned to write the entire story in one part, but it ended up being way longer than anticipated, so I broke it up into separate parts, which get progressively more crazy in terms of erotic situations. So if you like it, please stay tuned for more! ...
Author's Note: This is a story based on fantasy, not a reference to any real events. If you do not like to read stories about submissive being dominated then you should read another story. Part 1: Starting Sparrow’s new adventure Submission. I could run away but I won’t. I have been conditioned. I have been trained to obey. I will do whatever He asks. Whatever the price. I will do my best to please Him every time. ...
She was a self bondage addict. She was obsessed with tying herself up as tightly and as cruelly and she could and as often as she could. Every rope, strap and gag was applied just as tight as she could stand, sometimes more than she could stand. She loved every second of her self imposed torments and I loved to watch her do it. She was a gorgeous woman a dream come true for any red blooded heterosexual man. Her shoulder length hair was dark brown not quite black, which contrasted perfectly with her pale white skin and bright green eyes. Large mouth with luscious full lips. She stood about 5’ 6" in her bare feet with long legs. Large breasts, but not too large, just the right size to bind and torment. Her ass was amazing, nice and round further accentuated by her tiny waist. For years I secretly watched her tie herself up in more and more elaborate ways. She was very creative, very masochistic and cruel to herself. This time I could not resist I decided it was time to make myself known, she was never going to forget this night that was for sure. ...
Part 1 Professor Victor Ashworth was an inventor. A purveyor of all things alchemical and mechanical. Natural science was his playground. His workshop, however, was little more than a hovel. It was a dark basement cluttered with half-completed projects and the faint smell of grease. But it was his to outfit as he pleased, and the professor felt at home around his copper paraphernalia. He had absolute faith in his genius to produce revolutionary devices for domestic chores and industrial production alike, but a man of his eccentricities tended to ward away more clients than those who had an interest in the finer machinations of science in the first place. In other words, he was broke. What fickle business he did have was limited to mixing up basic salves and remedies for the local townsfolk. No one wanted to see his shoeing machine, nail clamper, or clothes presser, much less the more exciting devices like his electrostatic amplifier or prototype perpetual motion device. ...
Author's Note: It’s been a few years since I’ve written (completed) a story. I’ve had this one bouncing in my head for months and decided to finally do it. I’d love to hear your feedback! Jill sat at her makeshift terminal debugging a seemingly endless stream of code. Most of the code wasn’t hers so that didn’t help much despite the documentation. Her caffeine driven sleep deprived marathons were making even small tasks take excessively long but she refused to rest. ...
Author's Note: This is the first multi-part story I’ve worked on in some time. Please read, enjoy and leave a comment. Part 1 It was something of a truism that, if you dug deep enough every neighborhood, no matter how small, had its mysteries and a rare few of those were even actually mysteries. Famous crimes, strange disappearances, spooky occurrences and unexplained phenomenon, the kind of things that might even draw in tourists or a television crew if the neighborhood was insistent enough in promoting itself. Of course, most neighborhood mysteries were completely mundane. Little more than housewife gossip, the type passed around church pews and barbecues, or wildly exaggerated stories that became little more than urban legends, if they were interesting enough. Hickory Lane could not even claim that much. Oh, there was certainly plenty of gossip, that seemed to be something of a universal constant, but most of it was of an utterly mundane sort. The Emerson divorce had been the biggest news in a while, but that ended up being too painfully amicable to make for a good story. No, the real enduring mystery of the neighborhood was a house. Not a haunted house, nothing so interesting, just an old house. It was a nice house, most would agree, a small two-story affair at the far end of the block right next to a thicket of hickory trees that had given the development its name once upon a time enclosed by a wooden fence in the back. Now, who had built the house and when was something of a mystery. No one in the neighborhood was entirely certain just how long it had been there, though most agreed that it had to have been among the first homes built here and certainly the oldest still standing, but that was hardly the sort of mystery that got tongues wagging. Nor was the house some rundown and abandoned ruin of an earlier age. The building itself was clean and well kept, the shutters painted, the yard and the gardens in the back were neatly tended and the pool was cleaned regularly. That was no mystery either since the house was occupied and had been for years. No, as was also traditional the true mystery of 137 N. Hickory Lane was its residents. ...