The drive had been uneventful but by the time I pulled into the hotel parking lot and parked my palms were sweaty and my hands were shaking. I paused, looking at myself in the mirror, not so much to fix my appearance, but more to look myself in the eyes. Did I really want to do this? Of course I did, hell it had been nearly a year since I had met her online and during that time we had done just about everything a man and a woman nearly fifteen hundred miles apart could do.

She looked from the number 69 on the white front door back to the piece of paper in her hand and once more at the number before looking back down at the scribbled address on the paper once again. Breathing in deeply, tingling with nerves, she straightened down her black skirt and raised her hand to knock on the front door of the house. After waiting for half a minute the door opened, revealing a smartly dressed man.

Master circled me. I had displeased him, and now I was paying for it. "You have been such a bad girl, my dear. You have been dancing for other men, teasing and enticing them with your beautiful belly. You even had the nerve to wear the waist chain I gave you, the one with the gold pendant in the middle. How could you share my most prized possession with them, hmmmm?

1. The Game They were sitting on the couch watching TV one night, her head in his lap, when she reached over and grabbed the remote and hit Mute. It was right in the middle of a show he loved. "What was that for?" he asked. She turned her head to look up at him and with a serious tone said, "Can we talk about something delicate?" Here it comes, he thought with a sigh.

If first impressions were anything indication the lime tree-lined drive through landscaped gardens to the Georgian house was a promising start. Even the name on the signboard, 'Welcome to the Fardo Clinic', oozed class. Not Hospital, Clinic - very exclusive, thought Amy Jones; gosh, she really hoped she got offered this nursing post. Inside her favourable assessment was confirmed: marble floors, oak panels; understatedly tasteful. The antithesis of the flashy footballers and soap stars who were among the establishment's best clients.

NOTE: This text might be better enjoyed if you have an understanding of Brahminical liturgy, Hindu texts and classical Sanskrit literature. However, this is not mandatory as long as you can make the connect between the contradictions in the two narratives. I have added references in the footnotes to guide you. ***** The morning sun is still a balmy orange. I knew this orange well, for it is the precursor to a blazing white flame that obliterated both knowledge and ignorance alike.

Continued from here I stand up, pausing my ritual for her graciously. My hands do not touch hers as I take the plate of offerings from her. The rim of the plate is encircled by a serpentine jasmine garland. Nestled in the heart of this garland is a riot of colours — incandescent red oleanders, igneous palash and at the heart of the heart, a wide-open golden box containing sanguine vermilion.

Two people are paddling on a meandering stream, enjoying a smoke together. Eden smiles knowingly at me as he passes the joint and juts his chin toward the private beach we're approaching around the bend. A little thrill goes through me as visions of a quick skinny dip and a leisurely fuck swirl like eddies in the water. I grin with a gleam in my eye and paddle with gusto toward the oasis.

I hear you go to the front door and I look out into the hall to watch you. As I suspected you start flirting with the postman again. The way you laugh, the tone of your voice, the way you lean your body, the way you smile and glance into his eyes, the way you position your night dress to show off your cleavage, no wonder he always knocks twice.

The D-day has finally come! The day I decided to finally visit that mystery place I had been fantasizing about long before that. Slave Farm. What a wonderful name for a BDSM resort, a place where slaves are treated like real slaves, by real dominant women. Nice and isolated place, much looking like the famous OWK, but still much more affordable for me and closer to my home. And not that crowded.

It was the winter of 1944; I was an Army Air Corps P-51 Pilot providing air cover over the mountains of France protecting bombers going in and out of Germany on Raids. After a successful mission, I was heading back to my base when two FW190's jumped me. I took two shots in my engine and started to lose altitude with the engine on fire. I slide back my canopy and bailed out of the cockpit.

Foreword: This is a work of fiction. None of the people in this story are real. None of these events ever happened. This story is nothing more than words that came from my imagination. Any similarity to any real people, places, or events is purely coincidental. Operators of erotic story web sites, whether free or fee-based, have my permission to post my stories for public reading, provided that credit is given to "

Fantasy Day 3 of being your prisoner you stopped giving me water to drink. If i wanted to stay hydrated i would be drinking your pee from a dog bowl. I was so lucky. Why would i even need water when I could lap up your pee? I smiled as I was feeling thirsty so went for another drink. I was down on my knees I had to say your prayer before putting my face in the bowl to lap up your pee and savour it.

The year is 1692 and pirates sailed the high seas pretty much all over the world. The most feared was Mackenzie Burrows, one of the few female pirates in existence. Nobody knew exactly what she looked like just from word of mouth and a few drawings that were fairly accurate. She sailed aboard the ship named Purple Death. The ship was coloured purple on the outside with the name Purple Death painted on both sides of the ship painted in a dark pink.

This was a new feeling. Not the cold, though I must admit I was shaking slightly. The feeling of my heart beating strong enough to actually feel it against my ribs. I imagined others could hear it as well. There's also the feeling of the hard seat on my bare legs. Only a small field of vision through the slits in the hood covering my head. The sound of footsteps behind me, preparing the table.

Prisoner Of Lust A Latex Futa Nuns From Hell Side Story Camilo paced nervously in the kitchen as he looked at his phone. It would ring any minute and his nerves were standing on edge. He'd just closed his laptop after a brief chat with a woman on Fetlife. At least, he hoped it was a woman. One could never be certain a stranger's profile was real until you met them in real life.

Author's note: This story's main element is humiliation, some elements of it borderline on slapstick. It is about a haughty prospective princess being dramatically humbled. It is pure fantasy. If you like this kind of thing please continue to read. Includes, Spanking, Oral Sex, BDSM, Analingus, and Humiliation. *** "The Palace" Priscilla Conwyn stepped halfway out of her ornate carriage. Her chauffeur the dignified Hamilton stood in front of her was flanked by two royal guards.

PART ONE: In an alternate universe, Nate's charges weren't dropped. His lawyer advised him to stop fighting and take the plea. In that alternate universe, Nate reported to prison to serve out his two-year term (carefully negotiated, the sentence was much lower than it could have been and his taking it avoided the risk of a jury proving him guilty and sending him away for decades). In that alternate universe, Nate arrived at the jail with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Bondage I looked up through the metal bars. The room was large, almost like four 14 by 16 rooms combined at each right angle. In front of me stood a little black and white T.V. - its content was that of hentai and actual bondage porn; varying from which came first. The large expanse contained 1 door and no windows; there were vents but they only let out hot air to supply humidity.

The true story goes something like this: I am a lawyer, he is my client. He is in prison and I go to see him. We sit across a small table; the seats remind me of preschool and we are far too large to take up such a small space. I have to ask a guard if I can hug him. The guard, disgusted, says, "Yes, if you'd want to."

Under new reforms introduced in 2010, re-offending rates have dropped to virtually zero, an amazing feat for a now self-funding prison service. Delinquents too young for the adult penal system are sent to reform schools, remote from their friends and families. Here they are cut off from all vices such as TV, internet, radio, phones, alcohol, and cigarettes. They are taught to read, write and do their sums, are educated in the arts, and encouraged to take up activities such as sport, dancing and home economics.

I was being called into the Principles office, and it wasn't even a school day for me. We were headed to an away game and I had stopped to pick up my spare phone from my locker. I kept a pay-as-you-go phone that my parents didn't know about, and when I picked it up it had a message from Principle Mason to come to his office immediately. The message was time stamped about the time I came into the school.

Blindfolded, the man was lead down a long corridor, walls of stone, cold and silent surrounded them. The man shivered as the cold air clawed at his skin covered only by a thin layer of sweat that clung to his body. The sound of a heavy wooden door opening assailed his ears and he was led into the room beyond. Swiftly he was placed between two stone columns in the centre of the room and tied between them so his body formed an x.

The last time he had messed up was a difficult one. She had demanded that he stand there before her and lower his pants to his ankles. Hes shorts and pants there on the floor, he stood there standing. His rock hard penis pointed at her erect twitching. There he stood with her eyes upon him. It was difficult not to feel self conscious and he was so overwrought, he feared he may cum as he stood there.

"Take it, Princess," he moaned against my ear, hips rocking against me. He felt so big inside of me. I gasped and whimpered against him. He held me so tightly, as tightly as my pussy held him. I felt so small in his arms, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure roaring through me with each thrust. I was all his. "Yes," I gasped agreed moaned Ellie sighed and pressed her thighs together tightly, taking another sip of her drink as she contemplated her options.

Daddy walked back and forth in front of his Princess. She had gone and done it this time. She was squirming wanting to know how Daddy was going to punish her this time. Her ass was still red and starting to turn purple from her last punishment. She earned that for being a brat and demanding Daddy's attention knocking his drink to the ground as she climbed into his lap. She enjoyed that punishment.

I wrote this story as a homework . All characters in it are 18 or older. I hope you enjoy reading it... I was lying on my bed reading a book. I was so lost in it that I didn't hear Daddy entering the room and walking towards my bed. SMACK! Within seconds I was sitting on my bed, looking up to him. "Is this how a girl should behave when her Daddy enters her room"

Coming home after seeing the ballet that night, I noticed my black medium jelly plug on our night stand along with my leash for the 3rd time this week. Seeing this, my mind begins to wonder off in thought for a few moments... Master has been using our plug more often at nights since moving in with him. Master knowing this keeps me up a majority of the night from my pounding ache in my clit, my focus totally on loving our cock.

"Puppy!" he called from the living room. "Pup, whether you're ready or not, we're starting in five minutes," Master said. I can't lie, I already knew he was tapping his foot and looking at his watch. What an impatient Master I have, I thought to myself, trying again to tie my pigtails up with the pink ribbons. Giving up, I scampered outside, and pouted, starting to tug at his sleeve. He turned and raised his eyebrows as I held the little red ribbons up to him.

I kneel on the floor in front of you, sitting relaxed on the bed. I'm staring at the thing in your hands. It's a small, black velvet drawstring bag. I've never seen it before, and whatever is in it can't be very big, but you're looking pleased with yourself. I'm not stupid enough to say it, but that makes me nervous. "Do you want to see?" you ask. I nod, licking dry lips.