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.
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.
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.
Natalie's pendulous breasts brushed my belly. My eyes grew wide at the sight—I wanted to absorb them, to brand their image in my brain. As it were, I panted like a dog.
"Am I making you hot?" she purred. Again, I tugged at my restraints. I was so tightly bound that I could barely bend my elbows, my knees.
"I can't—I can't do it," I gasped. "I can't do this anymore.
Your instructions were simple.
"Be warmed up when I arrive home tonight. I want you to be undressed at the door- on your knees, red, glistening with sweat. I want your cock ready." I received the text mid-day at work and found myself distracted the rest of the day.
A few weeks back I told you about how I was turned on by exercise. The increased awareness of my body, the blood pumping, the endorphin rush- all seem to heighten whatever arousal I might already have.
She sat and watched Owen for a few moments, on his knees at her feet with his legs parted wide and his hands resting on top of his muscular thighs. He was still, as she had commanded him to be, all except for the rise and fall of his chest with each ragged breath and for the twitch of his hard cock as he throbbed with need. The barest hint of a smile flickered on her lips at the sight of him.
Author's note: All story elements contained herein are fiction and for fantasy purposes, remember to obey all legal and consent laws in real life, thank you and have a nice day.
*****
Ophelia could barely stand.
The hot water cut across her throbbing skin, the lingering effect of being exposed to Daddy after so long away.
The sweat and cum he had soaked her in sluiced away under the pressure of the shower before long, she leaned back to keep it from her face and hair.
**contains some elements of humiliation**
I pause outside of your office. I can hear you typing away in there and I know you must be preoccupied with work. I don't hesitate when I walk in and cross the room to your desk. You don't look up and I can see by the crease in your forehead that this is not a good time.
Ignoring the signs I position myself to the right of you and push myself up onto the cool wood surface.
Dedicated to Red.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.
Franklin Swanson always knew he was different. He was a good looking man, tall with dark hair, an athletic build but not an athlete.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
Angela wasn't sure what the woman had just said to her. She hadn't felt like herself all evening. These monthly drinks with the girls had become the only time she got out of the house. She'd been stuck in her own head all night though. She thought she was getting away with it until Sharon insisted she join her for a cigarette. Angela knew she was on the patches, she wouldn't stop talking about the patches.
She was bent over the bed and I pinned her wrists behind her back in one hand, running the other over the thin fabric of her panties. I could feel how wet she was beneath them and the little gasp that escaped her throat when my hand made contact made me smile.
The sun poured through the big windows, casting her in a golden glow. She glanced over her shoulder at me, flashing her blue-green eyes through the strands of hair that partially covered her face as it spilled over her high cheekbones and pale skin.
Sarah drifted lazily to her big office. What a great morning. Her first meeting wasn't until 11 am. Her assistant had brought her a coffee and porridge from a café, and she told him not to let anyone disturb her for the next 30 minutes.
She sipped the coffee and sat on her desk chair and spun around to look out the massive windows. She looked over London and felt powerful.
Hello!! So this is a second attempt at me being an erotica writer. It's a short story again but I'm working on something a little longer than this.
Please I would definitely use the criticisms and feedback from y'all. T
Thank you!!
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I couldn't stand anymore. As soon as it was decent but before she'd even stopped twitching I untied her wrists from the door. I picked her up in my arms and carried her over to the dresser.
Professor Ballard took another sip of Chardonnay as she continued to survey the crowd. These faculty receptions were so predictable. The usual suspects were all present and accounted for. She nodded at her fellow faculty members politely. There was the stodgy department chair. God, was he actually wearing a tweed jacket? What a dolt.
Over there was the cluster of teaching assistants and new instructors, always anxious to impress. All smiles and handshakes.
"Not good enough, you dumb cow. Try again," said the young mistress sternly.
Kathleen Ballard took a moment to compose herself. She was an English professor. She should be able to string together a few coherent sentences and come up with a compelling and convincing argument that would satisfy her new mistress.
Professor Ballard was a 44 year-old divorcee who had discovered lesbianism relatively late in life. She liked her girls young.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My apologies for the delay. I was stuck for quite some time, but now I think I have things straightened out. Expect more installments more quickly.
*****
Kendra sat on the edge of the bed, basking in the glow of her second orgasm of the morning, courtesy of Professor Ballard.
The slave remained on her knees between the student's legs. She continued to nuzzle Kendra's pussy eagerly after she finished cleaning her with her tongue.
Creating Quite a Buzz: A Temporary Trap
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Welcome to my world, where all women are lesbians, all lesbians are squirters and absolutely everyone is in to heavy BDSM. This is the continuing saga of Kathleen Ballard, a mild mannered, middle-aged English professor who has suddenly decided to surrender to her deepest, darkest carnal lesbian desires. Her rapid descent into slavery has been marked by extreme humiliation, degradation and abuse, all of it quite consensual and deeply satisfying to all parties involved.
***WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL FUCKERY AHEAD***
This story contains elements of coercion, blackmail and body modification in the context of heavy BDSM. Daphne is hereby acknowledged to be a narcissistic sociopath at best or a functional psychotic at worst. I want to portray her as a monster, so don't be surprised when she does monstrous things. Nobody should do any of this stuff to anybody in real life. Now, let the depravity begin.
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Paityn arrived at the studio early. The slim young woman stepped out of the cab and pulled her hood up and looked up at the building. Zak had contacted her about the job as a way to apologize for their bad breakup the week before. She had almost not taken the call, but now she was glad that she had. She went into the lobby and took the elevator up to the seventh floor, the top level of the building.
Geraldine Wade is a young woman I know who has some unusual sexual needs; she likes to get spanked with a special paddle she has and she likes to have her pussy eaten and to fuck. None of those is unusual in itself; all my lady friends love having their pussies eaten, and fucking, except those who are preserving their cherries, and a few of them like getting spanked, but Gerry likes being eaten or fucked and spanked simultaneously.
Cassie had some trepidation about what she was going to be doing that night but was determined to find out about it. She had never been spanked, not even by a disciplining parent, but she had heard some of her friends and college dormitory mates talking about being spanked or paddled by their boyfriends. Most of them had liked that part alright and had raved about the great sex that ensued, the best ever, according to them.
Story two of the Ms. Saba Spanking Series
POV work of fiction
So I just finished up a phone call with the principal who just informed me that a student who just got kicked out of her science class was being sent to me for discipline. I quickly finished off my cup and tea and waited patiently for this naughty girl to arrive.
Four minutes later my door opened and in she came.
Tiffany Stein knew she was born for the pageant stage, but never had her chance when she was younger. Both her parents were academics and thought pageants were silly, forcing Tiffany to focus on her studies; as an only child they were able to devote a lot of attention to her. They had passed while she was in her early twenties, and she thought it would be best to honor them by fulfilling their wishes.
Dear Mom,
Thanks for the lemon bars. It'll help me stay awake during my property class. Tell Rylie that I'll bring back her mohair coat, don't have a cow.
So you were asking me about how things are going with Spalding. I was so glad you and Dad liked him when you came up to school.
I agree he's cute and has a good sense of humor, and Dad said Spal was obviously "
La douleur exquise (Pain and pleasure)
I am a control freak. I know this even though my Dom says he sees no dominant qualities in me. He probably sees the person I used to be, the one I want to be, ephemerally, by way of seeking respite from the psychological turmoil my parents inflicted on me. Do what they say, obey, never make a mistake, always make the right choices -their choices- but come out of it, a fully-fledged adult.
Olivia made her way to the front door, adjusting both her dress and hair as she approached. Making sure she looked as immaculate as possible. Olivia then knocked on the door and was quickly greeted by a beautiful woman wearing only a satin robe. "Olivia, sweetheart please go on through." Olivia smiled, nodding her head graciously accepting.
Olivia entered the living room that was lit only by a large roaring fire that created a picturesque and romantic scene.
They pulled up in front of Club Rosas. A cool breeze was blowing, it was nearly 22:00 and they were dot on time for their appointment.
Bob and Julie walked up to the heavy oak door and she pressed the bell. Almost instantly, the door opened and an attractive man in his early forties smiled at her. She smiled back.
"Hello, please come in. Julie and Bob, first time here, right?
sabrina dropped to her knees once she saw who was standing in the kitchen of her house...coat unceremoniously laying by the door. "Oh my fucking gawd..." she drawled slowly, letting the tears stream down her face. "...Sir."
His Mr. Clean appearance was magnified tenfold by the faded and worn camo fatigue pants, sans t-shirt and bare feet. Sexy as fuck was a mild way of describing His appearance.
"Yes, my blond bitch,"
It was nearly 10 when the car pulled up in front of the Vickerson building, stopping only momentarily for a leggy redhead to climb out of the back seat before the car sped off to pick up its next fair. Paisley stood on the sidewalk, checking her reflection in the window before entering the vestibule. Marty, a portly older gentleman clad in a blue security uniform sat behind the large black desk.
He sat on the couch to her left, their thighs touching. They had been watching TV, but now he was more interested in other pursuits. He looked down at the way her thin pajama top lay across her breasts. It was a soft cotton fabric, with camisole straps and lace around the low v-neck. Her hands were nestled together in her lap. He put his right arm around her shoulders, reaching his hand down so that his fingers lightly grazed her right nipple through the thin cotton.