Erotic stories, usually with a BDSM theme
There isn’t much time. She slips out of her clothes, placing them on the fold-up hangar from her bag. The mask was tight and difficult to put on, particularly as she was trying not to make too much noise. The shower room was directly off the landing and while there was a small outer room it wasn’t enough to hide every sound. If anyone asked she could just say it was her make-up bag.
I was bound. I was gagged. I was blindfolded. I’d only know this beautiful woman for an hour and already I was helpless for her. I’d opened up to her and shown her who I truly was and she’d willingly taken me and pushed me to my limits.
The single drop of water landed in the metal bowl, sending out a shrill sound that bounced off the walls and made her shiver. Her eyes lifted to the string that hung from the beam barely a metre before her. On the end, hovering above the bowl, were the fast melting remains of an ice cube and inside it the key.
Anne-Marie looked beautiful as she looked out of the front bedroom window. The soft light caught her light chocolate skin perfectly, accentuating her beauty. For a few moments I paused and admired her, reminding myself how lucky I was to be with her.
For days he’d planned and prepared. He’d used a chastity cage. He’d kept away from porn. He’d teased his balls just enough to make them full of cum and no more.
A little over a year ago he’d proposed to her. He’d got down on his knees, declared undying love and devotion and with hope writ large across his face, waited for an answer. The following night she’d given it to him:
It took me about 2 hours to get home last night. And it was cold. Damned freezing.
She looked beautiful. The white crop top hung off her square shoulders and exposed a small band of flat midriff before her high waisted, dark blue jeans carried on, accentuating the curve of her hip and the shape of her bottom. White Nike trainers, expensive and new. Most of this was a memory as she was sat across the table from me, her mischievous smile on her full red lips and her brown eyes teasing me as they looked me up and down. Her straightened hair was cut in layers to her shoulders, swept back over her left ear to expose the expensive gold stud that had been in a jewellers just a couple of hours before.
The collar held her neck oh-so-tightly. It dug into her jowl, forcing her to keep her head up and forward, presented for the clippers. It hurt, more so because of the way her jaw was held open by the steel ring so skilfully inserted between her teeth. She felt helpless, more so than at any point in the past few hours. She couldn’t move nor speak, just hang limp and almost lifeless as the clippers came closer.
She felt him in the bed beside her. He was almost motionless, only his chest moving as it rose and fell with deep, restful breaths. His odour, a sweet smell that she’d come to enjoy, filled her nostrils, while the warmth that radiated from under the duvet warmed and comforted her. Having him beside her was calming. Enjoyable even.
I turned and gently lowered myself into the high throne. The leash fell from my hand and I heard the chain clatter as it collided with his bare chest.
Confessing my fetish to Julie had taken a lot of courage. We’d sat down one night and I’d come out and told her I enjoyed being dominated. Then I’d told her about my rubber fetish and my urges to be a gimp. I’d sat back and waited for her to kick me out.
She is on the wooden table in my dining room. There is rope around her knees and elbows, holding her in a crouch. Rope around her ankles and wrists pulls her apart, spreads her open. She is naked, exposed, vulnerable. Yet in spite of this restraint she hold herself up, arching her back to present her backside, holding her head high and proud.
It was a cookie-cutter house in a nice suburban neighbourhood, looking like a child had drawn it. The front garden was a neat square bounded by a low fence, a tarmac driveway on one side, manicured lawn on the other. With an oblong window on either side the front door was bright red and had a small lean-to roof to protect guests from rain. Above each of the ground floor windows was another and in the middle a smaller window that seemed like little more than an afterthought. It was made of bright red brick with white frames for the windows, each of which had net curtains for privacy.
It was a surprise for Sally. As soon as she walked in the door I took her. One arm went around her chest while my other hand slid up the inside of her thigh, underneath her skirt, over the stockings to the black silk panties she was obliged to wear.
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