This is a revised and extended version of an earlier story here - 'The Next Morning' - and there is more to come. Waking the next morning, unaccustomed dull fires reminding her of outrage, of cruel abuse of her most intimate places, she knows that something has changed inside her, that she has lost something. It's hearbreaking. The heartbreak is not, though, for lost innocence, for the bright promise of her relationship with him now violently shifted into a new, unknown territory, terrible hurts though both of these are.

We're moving house. We didn't want to but they insisted - the tenants in the other apartments that is. They say I make too much noise. Balls! The walls may seem to be made of paper but don't tell me they can hear us over their TVs. Anyway Master nearly always gags me before we start. We keep a bowl of apples on the table and when he's in the mood he'll say 'Open Wide', just like my old dentist - in the days when I could afford a dentist.

Michael had had a bit of luck when he started looking for a new house. He heard through friends that Mr. Robertson had landed a good job overseas and was looking to sell house and furniture as a package deal. He was able to step in and get the house at a good price, not dirt cheap but possibly slightly under market, as Mr. Robertson was willing to cut the price a little for a fast settlement, as they were leaving very shortly.

Bags were packed, clothes tucked neatly away in suitcases. It would be the last time I saw the inside of the house, I kept thinking, as I made my way to my Wrangler, chucking bags in the back that would most likely block my view and risk me getting in an accident. It was going to be a long drive, and though he had emailed me a map to print out, I only knew two things about where I'd be driving: far, and south.

Chapter 1: Decree Absolute "Well, Mr Lawson, I must say that I have been very happy with the way that you have dealt with things." Andrea Braddock smiled as she passed me a cup of tea. "It's all gone through much quicker than I imagined it would." Andrea Braddock had been a real lifeline for my career. I'd had a terrible first six months at Havering, Wallace and Fulbright. A stupid mistake in a conveyancing assignment in my first week, and an even worse one dealing with a will just a month after that, had nearly had me out of the door.

He realized he was addicted to her, but was unable to do anything about it. Whenever he saw the little green light indicating she was online, his heart started pounding pumping blood into all the wrong places. They would text often, and became intimate friends. The conversation often turned erotic, and when it did he would describe what he wanted to do to her body in great detail, and she would describe her response.

"Don't look, Taffy, but Mister Glodstone is right there." "Yeah, he has been real weird today, he turns beet red whenever he passes our office." "Yeah. He is the sweetest boss, and I think he always had a crush on me, but something happened last night and I think it's freaked us both out, Taffy." "What happened, Addisyn? You can tell me." "Like you won't spread it around." "No, no, I've gotten better.

Mr Stephensons Fucking Machine Back when coal was king and steam engines were the white hot leading edge of technology even having a wank needed a couple of maids to help get up stream. Part 1. "Mr Stephenson is here sir" Arthur Cleghorn was a self made man, a man of vision, a modern man, a man prepared to embrace modern technology to its fullest degree. "Send him up Perkins."

Before the Victorian Era safe sex meant kissing and a chastity belt, but when the key broke in Fanny's lock it took an engineer of Stephenson's stature to resolve the problem. "Thee done champion job of Fucking Machine for the missus so if thee can spare time I got another job for thee, bit delicate like." Young George Stephenson sat in the kitchen at Arthur Cleghorn's brand new red brick mansion, eating a chicken leg with a knife and fork, Arthur Cleghorn sat across the table from him chewing geat lumps from his chicken.

As his Fucking Machines increase in popularity, George fights for his Fanny Will our working class hero George with his steam powered Cottage defeat the aristocratic prat Lord Arthur with his crumbling Mansion.? Arthur Cleghorn sat at his magnificent dining Table in his brand new red brick Mansion entertaining the Dowager Lady Maplethorpe arguably the most awful person in the whole of Newcastle and even in Yorkshire area she would have made top two hundred, and her effeminate stuck up prat of a son Arthur, seventeenth Baron Maplethorpe.

Georges equipment attracts the attention of Prostitutes and Nuns and then he is persuaded to make a left handed version. =================== Ada Monckton was a woman to be feared, a colossus of womanhood only five feet tall but reputedly twenty stone, and as leader of the Gateshead and Heaton branch of the Pubic Sector Workers Union her wrath was legendary. Woe betide the Gentleman who failed to pay the agreed rate for services of a carnal nature, or who abused in some way not previously agreed any union member and woe betide the loose woman taking up the trade of prostitute to the detriment of paid up Union members.

All characters in this story are over the age of 18. ***** The phone rang twice before he picked up, concerned. "Hey love. What's wrong?" I was in hysterics, but I managed to mumble out that I couldn't go home and I had no where to go. "Where are you?" "In front of school. I'm a mess. I don't know what I'm going to do..." "Sit tight. I'll be right there.

The Background He messaged me on another dating site a week ago. Was it really just a week ago? My god. It was a good introductory message -- the rare kind that shows he actually read my profile and connected to specific things in it. He also mentioned his profile on the kink site. My interest was piqued. I took a chance that he used the same screen name on the kink site as the other dating site and did a search.

I turned the key in the lock to my apartment. When I walked in there was a dozen pink roses in a tall glass vase. I had been gone to the gym then the market for some dinner. It had been a few hours at least, but there was only one person who could have done this: Mr. Asshole the super. I walked around the apartment to make sure I was alone, then I proceeded to put in a work order for a leaky faucet.

Let Me tell you about me. I mean, what I want you to know. I really do enjoy the life I live, I wouldn't trade it for the world. It wasn't always good though. All my experiences have brought me to where I am today. I like to think I'm a great judge when it comes to people. I can spot a weak man a mile away and once i have them in my grasp I do what I want with them.

The heavens raged. Thunder boomed continuously, lightning flashes were coming down so often that night seemed like day, the wind howled. All in all a terrible night to be in except that it was the eve before Samhain and the weather fit. Two bored ladies sat at their table inside the entrance door to the Twysted Knot, a private club catering to those of the BDSM persuasion. "I can't wait until we're done,"

The buzzer went and Mr. Brownlow looked at his CT screen. Harry, the young burley security guard was on the trail of a blonde girl. He grabbed her arm securely and marched her like a convict through the precinct towards the store. The automatic doors opened like the mouth of a predator as if to welcome its prey. Harry took her to the back of the store and into the stock room to the staircase.

I was running late. I sped down the highway, risking a speeding ticket I could not afford. I swung into a parking space and hopped out of my car. My heels clicked quickly against the pavement. I rushed through the doors and took the elevator to my office floor. As I exited the elevator, I tried to pass Mr. Crowell's office inconspicuously, but heard my name called out after a few steps past his office.

A little before eight PM, the phone rang. I picked it up and said, "Hello." On the other end of the line, a breathy female voice asked, "Can I speak to Rad, please?" Rad is my internet name and a pen name I use when I write erotica. Very few people know that name and the few who do, know my real name. "Uh, this is Randy, can I help you?

"OK, 5.15pm, no sign of either of them leaving the building, better check things are going to plan. Hang on a minute, whoops, wrong camera. Ah that's better, floor two, deputy MD's office; turn up the sound, tighten the focus and voila, tonight's in-house entertainment..." "I'm sure you know why I've asked you to stay behind, Claire." "Yes, Ms Morrison." "One might have thought the last time would have taught you a lesson, but it seems not.

Dressed in my black dress, with nothing on underneath - just as my Master likes - I stand shivering slightly in the cold night air. Already my skin, where it is exposed to the chill, is showing signs of goose-bumps, and my black boots barely keeping my legs and feet warm. He knows I am waiting for him. Only for him. I shiver, not because I am cold, although that does carry a factor, but from desire and anticipation.

This is my first attempt at written work so please be kind. His written instructions are very clear: 4pm - give warm water enema, 2 litres. Hold for 20 minutes. No. 2 plug. 4.30pm - give ice cold enema (use 2 litre jug already filled in the fridge). Hold for 20 minutes. No. 3 plug. After emptying lube up arse and be in position by 5pm. No. 4 plug. I knew what "

Some part of his mind wondered what had brought him to this place. His exact predicament was at once easy and difficult to describe. His face was currently buried between the thighs of one of his junior officers while he lapped desperately at her dripping sex. Beyond that, he would be hard pressed to say where he was. His mind had long since disappeared, lost in the sensual bliss that submission always brought him.

I stand at the door about to knock as my heart sounds like it will leap out of my chest from thumping so hard. A need so deep within me and I cannot deny it. It is part of me and I know it, to hide it from myself would only be lying. He has promised to give me what I need and now it is time to see if He indeed will be what I need.

One of the more intense periods of my life happened when I was searching for a new Mistress. I guess having been used as a slut for some time, and now being without a vicious Mistress I was missing the pain in parts of my body, especially my balls...but that was about to change. Meeting Mistress G for the first time, I was pleased to see all her descriptions had been accurate, this being before the age of internet and email.

The sound of a door slamming startled her out of her deep slumber. It took a few minutes for the haze in her head to fade away enough that she could remember what was going on. She sat up and the room started spinning and her head was hurting as the memories of last night slowly came back to her. Her owners had some friends over last night and it was her job to keep their refreshments full but every now and then she would sneak a shot of whiskey in when nobody was looking which was against the rules.

Sir was never harsh, always fair. If she needed a sound beating, she got one, usually deserved one, always accepted one most of all thanked Sir for his protection. If she got a bedtime spanking, it too was well deserved, received and appreciated. She had been summoned to Sirs study and told to come in just her dressing gown. This meant Sir did not want a show, did not need the titillation of seeing her squirm at her own embarrassment as her top comes off and her bra, freeing her young tits.

SANDY ***** I'm trembling a little... in fear. I'm going to tell Richard I'm leaving and I know I need to stay true to that. It's time. I've been seeing David for nearly eight months. It's love and I'm sure of that. My heart flutters just thinking about him. Those deep, beautiful eyes and his wicked smile. His delectable body. Defined. Solid. Muscular. When I'm with him I feel... well, just incredible.

I felt sexy, and silly, and scared. Sexy because, as I looked at my reflection in the full length mirror, I could see how nice my bare legs looked between the short plaid skirt and the white knee socks. But at the same time, it seemed silly, in my mid thirties, to be dressed in a parochial schoolgirl's uniform. And, of course, it was natural to feel scared. I was awaiting my first spanking.

Miss Francy smacked her lips and leaned forward into the mirror. Yes, pink is a good color for today. She put the lid back on her lipstick and checked her watch. She only had 15 minutes before catching the train into the city and she didn't want to be late for her first appointment. She slipped on her heels and ran a hairbrush through her short spiky hair then tossed it into her black tote bag.