Co-Authors: subbie1982 and tom6432 (This is a fantasy written by subbie1982 and myself for fun. All errors in spelling, punctuation and grammar are my responsibility. It contains spanking, humiliation and fetish; if this bothers you please seek other authors. All characters are 25 year old or older.) ======= Chapter 7: "Okay Missy it is 7:00 o'clock and its time to start your day," I heard the Professor say. All I was thinking now was 'how much more juvenile can this get?

"Troy will be here Tuesday night," He told her, "to work his special magic with the camera. I believe that one of the best possible Valentine's Day experiences should be a documentation of O/our relationship." she simply smiled sweetly, barely daring to look up from where she knelt beside His favorite reclining chair while Joe Scarborough prattled on. "That would be wonderful, Master. How do You want Troy to photograph U/us?

Note to Reader: My Beloved, Little One is stricken with Alzheimer. "Stricken" is not overly-dramatic, especially when it happens to one who has lived with so much vitality and intensity. Of course, everyone connected to the person so afflicted, also "has it" to some degree and we struggle too. My reasons for scribbling these words together are tri-fold. In her deepest, inner self, I know that the woman I love so dearly is still here with us.

Two months after having moved in with Master, i had to visit my doctor again. My Gynecologist was in Tennessee. i knew i had fibroid tumors that had not been totally removed in the previous procedure. i was constantly bleeding. i could not go on this way. i made the trip down in one day and back. The doctor came in to the room i was waiting and i spoke before he could, and told him i wanted a full Hysterectomy.

This robbery is going great, you think to yourself. The bank guard, an old man, never noticed the interaction with the teller. The teller fills the bags fast after you hand her the note. You quickly turn from the counter and make for the door. This is where bad luck sets in. You bump into a large man walking in the door, slowing your exit. The teller yells, "Stop her, she just robbed the bank!

The other shoe drops! POV = Jesse Wright The wife Mabel Wright sat, curled up on the couch, quietly sobbing so as to not to disturb her husband. Afraid of another berating, afraid of another beating. Afraid of being raped again. Afraid, afraid. He was strolling around the house preparing to go out for the evening. He had a date waiting for him to swing by and pick her up. Snickering at the good fucking he had forced on his slave wife.

I'm Jesse Wright. This is my story about what happened a couple of weeks ago. When I discovered that my wife Mabel, was having an affair with her boss, Kenny Deever. I was so angry, I canceled my dates that week to fuck my youngest sister-in-law and my best friend's wife. Hell, I was so pissed off at my slut wife, I couldn't even get it up to fuck her. That triple loss of hauling my ashes on a weekly basis, made me madder'n rabid dog!

She came across as being kind of wholesome or innocent. There was some truth to it. She'd had a few boyfriends before me, but was definitely the "relationship type" and had never had a one-night stand. She told me that she had never looked at dating as just "having fun," it was always to find someone compatible for a long-term relationship. She was in her late twenties and was ready to get married and have children if she met the right guy.

So I met my mistress six weeks ago. She sensed that I was lonely and lost and invited me to come home with her to meet her prize-winning dogs. She told me to undress and then put a collar around my neck. She said that I could leave at any time but that if I stayed all my troubles would be over, but that I would have to become her "

It's time to go to the library. I get out the collar and the chain and the kneepads and call you over. You come quick, like a good little doggie, and fasten the kneepads around your knees. We leave the house and go down the stairs onto the street. We're going to fuck at the library. Everyone can see you're my bitch. You follow behind me in your little purple outfit with a tail hanging down between your legs, your ass big and round and beautiful.

I waited in the car for ages trying to summon up the courage to go through with my idea. After finding the human puppy school on the net I had contacted the 'trainer' and he'd invited me along to his kennel to see how I liked it. So here I was, and I decided to go ahead and give it a try. I knocked on the door of the ordinary three bedroomed semi and must have looked like any regular guy to the people passing in the street.

It's Saturday. I wake up stretch and reach for my slave. The bed is empty next to me and I realize that he is still at work as he works the graveyard shift. I look at the clock and realize that he will be home within the hour. I jump out of bed, get dressed in the tank top dress that I usually run around the house in and start getting breakfast going.

"Time for your walk," Master announces. He's holding the collar and leash as he waits in the doorway. She feels her face grow warm, but follows him wordlessly to the car. She struggles to stay quiet and still as they make the half-hour drive to the park. He stops at the guard shack at the park entrance; she keeps her face averted, afraid to meet the ranger's eye. A minute or two later, he's back and the entry gate swings open.

Her chin rested against the fabric of my jeans as a comforting weight. Her big eyes looked up at me. They followed my face intently as I relaxed looking at the TV. Her red hair piled high on top of her head. Many mini curls fell into every which direction. Her hands were poised next to her chin in my thigh. Her elbows were tucked in, like a person hiding the arms under a t-shirt only sticking out the hands pretending to be midget.

We pull into the picnic site at just after ten o'clock, after a few hours in the pubs in Edgware where Mary has been flaunting herself at the males (bending over from the waist to pick up dropped change, exposing her stocking tops and thong; allowing me to finger her in the street outside and be spotted by groups of young men). It is still relatively quiet, only a few cars with single guys, so she orders me into the back and tells me to strip.

Even though it was well past midnight and he hadn't called in two months, Dale knew there was no need to identify himself when her sleep-drugged voice finally answered the telephone. The first words out of his mouth were unapologetic. "I'm on my way, make yourself ready." He heard the sharp intake of her breath and smiled to himself, pleased with the sound of shock in her voice. Instantly wide-awake, it was obvious Natsumi not only knew who was calling, but more importantly, why.

This story contains elements of female domination, humiliation, degradation, corporal punishment and homosexuality. If that's not your thing go read something else. Dogshit the Bitch teaches the gospel Someone reading this with modern eyes might well question my sanity and the sanity of the man sucking my cock even more. They would also think that we were the same when we are very different. He is a masochist who loves being punished and abused by a sadistic woman.

I rolled over, my hands reaching out and finding nothing. I had expected him to be in the bed. I lifted up slightly to hear the shower running. I dropped back down, a grin spreading across my face as I thought about the night before. It had been so hot. I could still feel his beard between my thighs. I felt myself get wet as I relived him using his beard on my clit.

Steve opened his eyes, quickly realising it had not been a dream – he really was tied up. His arms were pulled over his head, making his shoulders ache fiercely. Scrabbling, he managed to get his feet under him to take his weight, reducing the strain on his arms and shoulders. His wrists weren't tied, they were chained, the links running up to a beam in the ceiling. His jacket and shirt were gone – he was bare-chested, barefoot and, judging by the blood, he'd been in a fight.

CHAPTER ONE Peggy looks absolutely delicious lying prone on the bed - her arms held to her sides by Velcro bands attached to a thin strap around her waist. I think she is not wearing a bra because I can see her nipples pushing out against the red silk blouse. Her jeans are so snug it looks like they're painted on, and just looking at those full thighs is starting to turn me on.

"Ooh, that one's fading nicely," I think to myself, as I turn my neck to examine the last big bruise on my ass. Strangely, it had become a ritual of sorts: toweling off after a shower, and taking a few minutes standing in front of my full-length mirror to touch the marks Sir leaves on my willing body. I run my fingers over the bruise, shuddering in delight at the memory of begging Sir to let me cum while he flogged me mercilessly.

Willow kneels on an easy chair, straddling a well-padded arm, left knee on the seat, right foot on the floor, bottom elevated to an ideal height. Sharing the same cushion, Carmen adopts a mirror-image stance; side by side they lean forward, bodies touching. Slender blond Willow, the taller of the two, is almost completely naked. By inclination a free-spirited girl, her simple summer frock discarded virtually the moment she arrived. Currently wearing no more than a silver ankle chain, high heels and a cheeky expression, she wriggles her bum in anticipation and grips Carmen's hand.

'Right, time to go to your bathroom and remove all body hair, from the neck down. Not the slightest hint of a hair is to be left. Understood?' 'Yes, Ma'am.' I'd been in her company barely an hour, but I was already getting used to using 'Ma'am', her preferred way for me to address her. 'You'll quickly learn to take pride in always presenting a smooth, absolutely hairless body. For yourself as a sissy, but mostly for me.

This is a continuation of the Doing Things Properly story. It consists of very strict, rigorous Femdom D/s and sissy training and humiliation. If this isn't your thing, then please move on. For those who appreciate this type of story, consider rating it favourably and commenting positively. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- 'You'll wear this one today. And every Sunday until I say otherwise.' Mistress placed the garment on the bed next to me. A maid's outfit, at least that was its cut and style.

(This is not a quick wank story or even a wank story. This was inspired by some ideas I ad while working and my goal was to portray this situation as accurately and as realistically as possible. A relationship is a relationship no matter if it is man/wife, bf/gf, or Dom/Sub.) * It was eleven o'clock at night when I decided that enough was enough. My submissive for nine months hadn't showed up for our weekend get-together.

He leaned in to kiss her. "My beautiful doll," he said. She looked at him in anticipation at his words. "Do you want to be my doll?" he asked. "Yes, Sir," she responded. "This will be a difficult session," he informed her. "Are you sure?" "Yes, Sir." He led her to the bedroom where he had already laid everything out. On the bed were her collar, an arm binder, a ring gag, and a special outfit.

Tanya nervously clutched her purse to her chest as she walked through the heavy door. She pulled off her sunglasses that had been in place hiding her face, despite the fact that it was overcast and dark outside. She eyed the reception area as she pulled the door shut behind herself. The building on the outside resembled an inner-city residential house that had clearly been renovated to support a business now.

Inspired by missub_69. "Don't be coy with me," I snap. This makes you flush I notice, so I keep going, "just because you are submissive doesn't give you the right to be passive aggressive." Now you duck your pretty face because it's burning. "Tell me what you need or I leave you in here some more." "I need you to use me." "Louder, what was that?" I wrap the metal knob of my flogger on the cage.

Emma struggled against her restraints for the hundredth time. "P-Please! Please, Professor, let me..." A sharp sting on her back made her stop talking. "Little Princess Doll..." He started, his hand gently caressing her bare ass where he had just slapped her. "How many times do I have to tell you to be quiet?" "I'm sorry! I..." Another slap and she bit her lip. His hand resumed his caressing of her stinging skin.

Molly was not the innocent little thing this guy thought she was. She knew she had to stop playing shy at the start, she was giving the wrong impression. She had come across this before. Guys her age were never prepared for her. She had a tendency to scare them off. This guy was older though; he might be up for something more adventurous. She was a little disappointed when he didn't show up at the pool tournament but it wasn't a total loss.