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I opened the door. Mick walked in trailing a girl. “I come bearing gifts: libation and decoration,” he said handing me the bottle and nodding at the girl. He clapped me on the back. “Happy holidays, Bro.” “Back at ya.” “This is Shelly.” “Hi.” “Hello, Shelly.” “Man! Something smells good.” “Bird will be out in about an hour. Just have to do a bit of last minute decorating.” We were in the kitchen. I unwrapped the bottle. Vodka. Some obscure name I’d never heard of, much less pronounce. I splashed a couple of shots into glasses, we tossed them back, then I poured a couple of doubles on the rocks. ...

The cabbie leaned on the horn. Not that it did any good. The place was a parking lot. Shit! Anderson is going to be pissed. It’s not a good idea to piss off your pimp. Denise paid the guy and bounded out of the car, heading south at a trot. She caught another cab three blocks down, found the address, went around back, and was guided to a set of stairs. She found him in the library. ...

The wagon makes its slow steady progress along the hard pack road. The horse is moving at a pace somewhere between a walk and a trot. The man at the reins and the woman beside him stare blankly ahead as people tend to do when on a long journey. Behind are four, fresh mares, all young, fit. One of them is seventeen today, although she is unaware of it. Mares have no sense of time, nor day. Weeks, months, years mean nothing. They are under contract and the days pass, pass without noting. ...

It was one of those rare Saturdays when Terry didn’t mind being rousted out of bed at dawn. The farm was more of a hobby for his parents and, truth be told, he didn’t have to do a whole lot. But on weekend mornings when all his friends were sleeping in he was in the barn helping with the milking, gathering eggs. And usually he rebelled against even this minor intrustion into his life, but today he fairly lept from his bed. Because once he’d finished his chores the day was his. And days like this only came along every couple of months or so. ...

“Tim to Collins.” “Collins.” “Captain, we’re just about done here, about to head to sector D14.” “Copy. Anything interesting?” “No ma’am, just more of the same, predominantly poppies.” “Copy.” “Hey! It’s 2400, happy birthday! The big 3 0, woohoo! I know we’re not on schedule, but maybe we could grab a little quality time when you get back”. In another time and place that would be insubordination, but in the space program sexual interaction among the crew was not only encouraged, it was required. In fact, sexual competency was considered a core function and ship crews were selected based on sexual compatibility. They changed partners regularly, according to the schedule, but often couples developed a special bond even if they were required to sleep with others. ...

I’m nervous. Melanie and I are going to do the Skype thing in a few minutes. Seems like a good idea given the circumstances. The next step before we meet ITRW. I went to the shop and had my eyebrows waxed. They’re the only hair on my face, not counting my lashes. I had the rest lasered off, but I left the brows. I like to be able to shape them as the whim hits me. I check my nails. I’m kind of anal about them. I had a MAN-icure this morning, too. I see a couple of bubbles on one nail and I have to resist the urge to redo them. Time for that later. ...

The girl on the kneeler wore the plain, gray dress of a novice. She faced the corner of the small, empty room and prayed the prayers she had been taught, especially the prayers of contrition. The door opened. “Sister.” The girl rose and followed the nun into the next room. This room like the other was small, windowless, lit only by a large candelabra perched on a small table. Next to the table sat the abbess, her face bathed in the soft glow. ...

Single caring dominant males seek playful submissive female for fun and games. “Yeah, right.” Couple seeks bi female for play dates. “Uh uh.” Gay male dom seeks gay male submissive. We all have limits, let’s find yours. Safewords are not an option. “Shit. Why do the queers have all the fun?” Submissive female seeks same to share with my Master. “Hmm. That may be-” A knock came to the door. Startled, it took Lindsay three tries to close the alt.com window on the computer screen. ...

“But Miss Rourke, I… I need this job. My husband has been out of work for almost a year and we have a baby.” “Mrs. Donaldson, they’re moving some departments in this division to Chicago and-” “I can go to Chicago. My husband doesn’t have a job. We can move.” “I’m sorry, but the decision has been made. There’s nothing I can do.” That wasn’t true, of course. Miranda, while young at 27, was for all intents and purposes COO and while her boss made the final decision in these matters, he pretty much rubber-stamped her recommendations. ...

story continued from part one Part 2 Larry’s phone chirped. He didn’t need to answer it. He knew the number. “I have to go into work.” “What? Now?” “Yeah.” “But Larry! We hardly ever have a Saturday night together.” “Kelly, it doesn’t happen often, hardly ever, you know that.” “You gonna be late?” “Midnight…ish. We can still go out after.” “Yeah.” Larry drove across town, down into the industrial complex, pulled into the warehouse parking lot. He flashed his badge at the security guy who barely acknowledged his existence. ...

“Rough weekend?” “You don’t know the half of it.” “Oh?” “I met a girl.” “Well, duh.” “She has this thing.” “Thing?” “Yeah. We were, you know, on our way to bed and she said she had this one little thing. I asked her what she meant and she said it would be more fun to surprise me.” “And she surprised you.” “Oh yeah. Definitely. I never ate so much pussy in my life.” ...

Part 1 I circled the block a third time. The girls were still there, strolling slowly, the taller of the two smoking a cigarette. There were others out, so I didn’t make these two for cops. When the cops come out the other girls disappear. I had made eye contact with the shorter one last lap and when I slowed and pulled to the curb she walked over. I rolled down the window. ...

Erika squatted over the toilet and purged the quart of warm, soapy water. She pushed the nozzle back in and emptied the bag. She held it while she slid the second nozzle into her pussy and squeezed the bottle. She removed the nozzles and bore down, holding the liquids in her pussy and ass as long as she could. In the tub she dialed the shower head to something resembling a heavy mist and soaped herself once all over, quickly. Then she shaved under her arms, shaved her legs, soaped up again, but at a more leisurely pace. The soap, the warm mist, it made Erika purr. They say that while guys focus on their dicks, a girl’s body is one, big erogenous zone. That may be true most days, but at this time of month Erika was having a hard time keeping her hand from going between her legs and her nipples were driving her crazy. She washed her pussy, resisted the urge to do what she most desperately needed, to find relief. But she wanted to stoke the fire, not douse it. She hadn’t diddled herself in three days. Normally it was part of her morning routine, even during her period. Someone had told her that orgasms cure cramps. Whether that was true or not, well, like they say - it can’t hurt. ...

A Halloween Special 2013 Tale “Okay, ladies, strip.” The four pledges looked at each other. Technically they were no longer pledges, but they weren’t full members of Zetta Phi, either. But they would be tomorrow after the ‘ordeal’. “Come on, girls.” The girls tugged off their clothes: Ts, jeans, panties, bras. “You can keep your shoes. Here. Put these on.” The girls were handed black T-shirts with the ZP logo in pink. Black panties, again with a pink ZP. ...

“For your penance say ten Hail Mary’s and five Our Father’s. Now give me a good act of contrition.” “Oh, my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee, and I …” The priest tucked his finger through the curtain. A girl, or more like a young woman, knelt in the pew. Petite, short dark hair, she knelt with her hands clasped, gazing at the altar. Last one, God willing. He checked his watch. With any luck he’d be out of there and back in the rectory in ten minutes, a single-malt scotch in hand. ...

Will sipped his drink. It was dark on the porch. Well past sunset. There was thick fog and a heavy drizzle that was turning into light rain. Across the way he could barely make out the lights at the athletic complex. An idea popped into his head. He pushed himself out of his chair. Inside, Fawn was sitting on the couch watching TV. Fawn wasn’t her real name, it was the one he had given her - kind of a pet name. Literally. While not collared, she was his pet. And the name fit. She was thin, coltish, but Fawn sounded better to his ear than colt or pony and it still got the idea across. She looked up at him. ...

“Officer Kent, would you please describe the events of the evening in question.” “Well, at 10:48 we responded to a 911 call.” “What was the nature of the call.” “We didn’t know.” “Oh?” “The operator said there seemed to be someone on the line, but their responses were garbled, muffled.” “But you responded anyway.” “Yes. Lots of times it’s a prank, but you never know.” “Go on.” “I arrived first, but waited for backup before entering the property.” ...

Jesus, Alex, turn off the fucking blinker! 2:00 a.m. Alex flicked the button, rolled out of bed, stretched, yawned, scratched himself, padded into the bathroom, climbed into the shower. When he came out Wendy was in the kitchen, wearing her fluffy robe and bunny slippers. She had a serious case of bed hair and she was clearly barely awake. She was screwing the lid on the Thermos bottle. He reached a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee. He reached a second mug and filled it, splashed in some milk and added a couple of packets of the blue stuff. ...

Brenda looked down from the balcony. Across the yard a man dressed in overalls and a green plaid shirt led two naked women from the barn. They wore bridles fitted with bits in their mouths. Reins were attached to them. They wore leather harnesses which were fixed to the rails of a cart. And they had hooves, hooves on their hands and feet. The man climbed into the cart, shook the reins, and the women went off at a slow trot. ...

“Ricky! You coming?” “In a minute.” He watched his parents walk across the sand and go into the bath house. He reached into the cooler pulled out a beer, slid it into a koozie, and cracked it open. He was too young to drink, but he’d packed the cooler and squirreled a couple of extra cans of beer. They were the same silver color as his soda, so no one would notice, especially in the koozie. ...

Gloria glanced at her phone. 8:58. She and Patty sat on the couch - silent. There had been some awkward conversation earlier. “He wants me here?” “Not you specifically. A friend was all he said. Someone I trust.” “Why?” “He didn’t say.” “So you met him on-line.” “Yeah.” “And you have, what, virtual sex?” “No. Not really.” “But you have a relationship.” Gloria wagged her hand. “Kind of.” “What about meeting him, like in the real world.” ...

A light flares into existence. Slowly the scene resolves. There is a wooden box on a pair of saw horses. The box is made of boards with cleats and corner posts. It’s not very large; something under six feet long, less than two feet wide, perhaps eighteen inches deep. Next to the box is a large, blue plastic barrel. Below, a shiny, stainless steel bucket. Beyond nothing but inky shadow. ...

The knock came at 7:20. The date was for 7:00, but this was Provence after all. Margo left the couch to answer the door. “Bon jour! Bon Jour! Ca va?” The women did the cheek bump, air kiss thing. “Bien. Bien. Et vous?” “Bien, merci.” Margo noticed the guest’s car glistened with rain, sheltered under the portico. She led the guest through the house. The small villa, normally bright and airy with its many windows and white plaster walls, was plunged into darkness. There was no moon that night and the storm clouds made it all the more black. It was a gentle rain, though. A warm, steady, summer rain. The sound of it pattering on the tin roof over the patio echoed in the living room. ...

(story continues from Tan Lines 3) Part 4: Epilogue “But what do I do with her?” “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” “Uh, where are we going? You told her we had to leave soon.” “Yes. We’re going out.” I wait for an explanation. None comes. Okay, so he’s back in Master mode. “Uh, Sir? What mode am I in? I mean, you’re really messing with my head here.” Ted chuckles. ...

The bell chimes. I glance at the clock. 7:45. It’s Hank. Has to be Hank. He’s always early. Of the three he’s my least favorite, one of those loud-talking, jolly types, but he and Rod are bff, so there you go. “Hey! Amigo! Que pasa?” “Hey.” We go into the kitchen, I crack open a couple of beers, then head into the den. The sports channel is on the TV. Soccer highlights. Hank grabs the remote and thumbs it until he finds baseball. ...

It had been a dream and, as dreams go, Loretta could see herself, actually see herself, trapped in the spandex sack. There were sleeves inside and her hands and arms were useless. There was no zipper and only one hole, the one over her mouth. But her mouth was full, filled with a penis gag. It wasn’t big enough to choke her, but she’d never had anything that big in her mouth - ever. Holes ran down the length allowing her to breathe. But she didn’t so much breathe as gasp. ...

Denise checked her watch. “Shit!” No way was she going to make ten blocks in ten minutes. She crossed the street, dodging traffic, and climbed into a cab parked outside the Marriott. “508 Pecan,” she told the driver. Still the ride took fifteen minutes, but she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw another cab at the curb and Lisa stepping out. Lisa was Anderson’s go-to gal so if she was late how much trouble could there be? ...

(story continues from The Seduction) Part 2 “But why not?!” “Because I said so.” Andi pouted. “You sound like Dad.” “And you sound like a whining child.” She reached out and took his hand. “Sorry, Uncle Phil, but that may have worked when I was six, not twenty-six.” Phil sighed. “Several reasons. For starters I wouldn’t be comfortable doing it. I never married, never had kids, don’t have all that baggage, but you’re still my niece. It would be too overtly sexual.” ...

Cass came out of the bathroom, damp and warm from her shower. She had a towel draped over her head, rubbed her long black hair in a vain attempt to dry it. She didn’t see Lacey standing by her closet. Lacey grabbed her, shoved her into the closet. “Hey! What … what the f-” “One time too many, roomy. One time too many.” She drove Cass to her knees, then down onto the floor. She grabbed a pair of dirty panty hose from the pile, pulled Cass’s arms behind her back and wrapped the hose around her wrists, knotted them. ...

Brisa stood, or more accurately hung. The toes of one foot barely touched the floor. The ropes dug painfully into her wrists and elbows. A wadded scarf filled her mouth, a second cleaved her lips, a third covered her mouth and nose, a fourth covered her eyes. Brisa sobbed, the soft cloth absorbed her tears. She cried for many reasons. For the realization that his was her new life. For angering Juan. For disappointing Tio Jesus. ...

The scene slowly resolves itself. There’s a naked girl strapped down on a table in a pool of light. I don’t recognize her, but her name is Pam. She has long, black hair that spills off the end of the table. Her breasts are perfect cones. So perfect they almost look fake, but I know they aren’t. I don’t know how I know this, but I know. Her bush is full and lush between shapely thighs. There’s a strap across her forehead, one around her throat, two above and below her breasts, and one across her belly. Her legs are raised and spread, her ankles fastened to supports, like in a gyno chair. A tall, masked man is standing between her legs smearing something white. Foam? Behind him, reflecting the light are shelves with white faces and vulvas. Pam is sobbing quietly. ...

Aaron slowed for the turn, glanced at his house, then at the park across the street. Maybe a few minutes by the lake would help him unwind. Lord knows the extra set of weights didn’t. But that extra set cost him twenty minutes and he had no time to spare. Christina would be home soon. He sighed, made the turn, and a second into his driveway. With any luck Christina would have plans, plans that would take his mind off of his job. ...

Shelly pulled the nearly sheer, black nylon, body stocking up her long, shapely legs, the neckline stretching just enough to clear her full hips, stretched some more to cover her bust. She slipped her hands into the arms, nestled her fingers in the tips. She stood before the mirror tugging and smoothing, avoiding looking down to where her dark bush burst through the hole in the crotch. But she did look and she blushed. This was so not her, but it was totally Cynthia. She imagined her wearing the garment on a date, imagined the date’s surprise when he slid his hand under her skirt and found… ...

“Are you sure?” Chelsea sat on the couch, feet tucked under her, wrapped in her thick, fluffy robe, a steaming mug of tea in hand. “Yeah. I’m okay, just not feeling all that well.” “I can stay with you-” “No! No, really it’s okay.” Truth was the last thing she wanted was company. She had been looking forward to tonight, Thursday night, club night. Looking forward to catching a buzz, maybe meeting someone, maybe getting laid. She had been moderately horny for the past few days, but had resisted the urge to diddle herself. Probably why she was in the state she now found herself - hornier than horny, exquisitely horny, horny beyond words. And she needed some quality time alone. Key word: alone. ...

Meg turned on the headlights. The temperature readout on the dash read 28 degrees. Not all that cold. A bit below freezing. Cold enough to justify the big coat. As the sky darkened and the temperature dropped Meg’s anticipation grew, grew until, by the time she pulled into the driveway, she was downright squirmy. She contemplated a shower to warm her first, but she knew that soapy fingers would find themselves you know where and that would put the kibosh on her plans. So she gathered her things and got undressed. She took a minute for a quick pee and to splash some water on her face. The face that looked back at her still looked odd. She had broken her nose when she was a kid and it always had a bit of a twist to the right. Now it was straighter and smaller with a bit of an upturn at the tip. The injections gave her lips a full, pouty look that she liked. All in all it was a bonus well-spent. She had even shorn her long chestnut hair. Her new short do gave her a perky look. She looked at her boobs and considered having them done for the thousandth time. Not out of vanity. It was that they were too big and her bra straps dug into her shoulders. She hefted one. ...

It’s supposed to be just a friendly game of cribbage, but not when the evil stepsister wins. “15-2, 15-4, 2 for the pair.” “I’m your stepsister, but I’m, NOT evil.” “You have your moments. And what about you calling me a bitch?” “15-2. You were, still are.” “Bite me, Loren.” “See?” “More wine?” “Not really in wine mode. Scotch?” “Glenlivet-up?” “What else? I’ll come with you, see what the boys are up to.” ...

Seven o’clock. I mouse and click and a window opens up, but it’s black. I sip my drink. The lounge is virtually empty. Me, a gal across from me who keeps giving me the eye, a guy over by the window, a kid with a backpack over by the wall, eyes closed, buds in, head bobbing to a private beat. The screen lights up and there’s Ruby’s face. Seven o’clock, date time when I’m out of town. ...

Larry’s white Audi rolled up the driveway. He stepped out, walked around the front, headed for my back door. I met him half way. “Hey, Larry.” “Uh, uh hi, Julian.” Then came an uncomfortable silence. I let it stretch a bit. “Not what you were expecting, hm?” “What?” “Me and not Lady Di. I used her phone to text you. She’s waiting for you around back. Come on.” I led him down the drive and across the patio. ...

Larry’s white Audi rolled up the driveway. He stepped out, walked around the front, headed for my back door. I met him half way. “Hey, Larry.” “Uh, uh hi, Julian.” Then came an uncomfortable silence. I let it stretch a bit. “Not what you were expecting, hm?” “What?” “Me and not Lady Di. I used her phone to text you. She’s waiting for you around back. Come on.” I led him down the drive and across the patio. ...

We made it to the final four. The semis are tonight. I’m going over stats, looking for an edge. Christina is resting. At 30 she’s one of the older competitors, but it’s like that old saw: Age and treachery beats youth and skill every time. Still, it’s been a hell of a month. One contest a week. Afterwards it typically takes her 48 hours to return to any sort of normalcy. ...

(story continues from Dollers and Sense Part 2: Sally’s Pony) Part 3: Transformation Sally lay, sprawled in the corner of the couch. Her arms splayed, her head cocked at an awkward angle, her huge doll eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. A living toy set aside to be played with later. She could hear their voices, but not the words. They were at the counter in the corner. The older blonde woman, her pony’s owner, her, Sally’s pony. That’s how she thought of him and she felt a twinge of jealousy. ...

The pink delivery van pulled up to the curb, the large FeD Ex logon in stark black on its side. “He’s here.” “Aw, Dad, do I have to?” “Mina we’ve been through this. Driving would take days and flying is too expensive.” “But, Dad-” “No, Mina.” “Mom?” “Honey, we all agreed.” The doorbell rang. “Hi. I’m Jeff. If you would just read and sign the form we can be on our way.” ...

Craig woke early. 6 a.m. Very unlike him for a Saturday. He knew his parents were up, but he pulled the covers over his head and rolled on to his side. Today was his birthday, his sixteenth birthday, and he knew they would be all over him, probably had a party planned. He didn’t want a party. He wanted it to be Monday. It wasn’t fair, damnit. He’d have to wait two whole days before he could get his license. ...

Lee Ann fidgeted. She was tired and a bit cranky and the line was moving oh so slowly - if it was moving at all. Still, overall, she felt happy. Happy in the anticipation that she would sleep in her own bed tonight. Though, technically, that wasn’t true. She was his slave, his property. And property can’t have property, so, technically, it was his bed. She would present herself, naked, freshly bathed. She would hand him her cuffs and collar and he would lock them on her ankles, her wrist, her throat. She would follow him into the bedroom, kneel by the bed. He would remove the coil of chain from the hook on the bedpost and lock it to her collar. ...

“Hi! I’m Joanne. Joanne Van Felt. Your neighbor?” The woman gestured toward the house next door. “Oh! Hi! I’m Marsha. Come in. Please. Apologies for the mess.” “No need to apologize. If I didn’t have company I’d never clean.” Marsha led her neighbor into the kitchen. She was Marsha’s height. Trim, but a bit top heavy. Her snug white blouse and wide belt emphasized her assets. She had perfect hair. Big hair. Her slacks fit snug. Everything was snug. A half size smaller and it would look trampy. On Joanne? The word dominatrix came to mind. Marsha blinked the thought away. ...

“What have we got, Roscoe?” “Mostly nice. Five million, six hun-” “Cut to the chase, elf!” “Yes, Sir, Santa, er, Sir. We’ve got six in Brazil.” “Really?” “Yep.” “How convenient.” “Yes, Sir. Two prostitutes, a secretary, a dental hygienist, and two divorcees.” “Okay, nobody will miss the whores or the divorced girls. Oh, wait, kids?” “No, Santa.” “Good. What about the other two?” “Secretary is a temp. No one will miss her. As for the dentist, well, let’s just say he’s not a real dentist. People get their teeth cleaned, but it’s just a cover. They’re there for other, er, medicinal reasons. If you catch my drift.” ...

The blue marquis scrolled across the bottom of the TV screen. Severe winter weather warning in effect until 6.a.m. for the following counties … Annette grabbed the remote, thumbed over to the weather station. She had been following the storm track all day and was delighted when the first flakes fell a couple of hours ago. There was over an inch of the fluffy white stuff on the ground. Just enough to cover everything, creating a perfect, picture postcard setting. But there’s perfect and then there’s perfect. ...

Crosby hefted the last coil of silver garland. The tree was already full to overflowing, but that was Cynthia for you. Why one string of lights when three were better? She stood there, hand on hip, wearing only her “holiday” panties. Garish red and white striped things with tacky green trim. She tossed the blue ornament a couple of times, trying to find the perfect spot. Unfortunately there were no spots, perfect of otherwise. Crosby sighed. He allowed her her little eccentricities. ...

“Are you gonna take me home tonight?” A movement catches my eye. Sally comes into the garage. She’s wearing the blue denim mini-dress, the one she’s worn every weekend for the last five months. It’s a couple of sizes too small or maybe she’s a couple of sizes too big. Looks like she’s been poured into it. I like it. That’s why she wears it. “…Are you gonna let it all hang out? Fat bottom girls, you make this rockin’ world go round.” ...

Beckett read the note again and chuckled. Bxc6. He stepped over to the board, moved James’ bishop to c6, and removed his own piece. He smiled. “Walk into my parlour,” said the spider to the fly. Call it an affectation or nostalgia, a throwback to earlier, slower times, but he and James enjoyed their games of postal chess. Yes, it was expensive, but they were both in a position to afford the extra expense of this minor indulgence. ...

“You don’t know how many rooms! You’ve been cleaning there for three months.” “Only downstairs. I’ve only been into one room upstairs. Besides, like I said, it’s more a companionship thing.” “Some lonely little old lady?” “No. I don’t know her age, but I’m guessing a year or two younger than us.” “So what’s the deal? You’re being very coy, you know.” “Listen, just go with it. You already promised to do it.” ...

“Cousin? Will you be breaking fast with the family this morning?” Lilliana scowled at the other, piqued by the disrespect. She was Princess Lilliana and the other merely the daughter of a duke. But she forced a small smile and replied as she had every morning this past, long month. “No, thank you. Just some fruit and fresh water on the terrace, please.” The other made a small bow and left. ...

(story continues from Jane’s Story 9: The Boat Ride) Part 10: Latex Dream Jane presented herself, naked, legs spread, her hands clasped behind her neck. The tattoo girl was there, the one from the restaurant. She was holding a foam brush and a paint can. It was latex. Jane didn’t know how she knew that, but she knew. The girl dipped the brush into the can, held it up for a moment, then drew a swath over Jane’s lips. She did it again just below Jane’s nose and another just above her chin. The stuff dried almost instantly and the girl repeated it, three stripes, and then three more. Jane’s lips were sealed - literally. They were no longer lips, plural, they had melded together. Jane knew she would never open her mouth again. ...

It was a good throw. The best of the day. Of course, on this day any half decent toss would qualify as a good throw. I managed to miss the trees, the disc took its predictable fade - then shot off like it was on boosters. A gap in the trees had let a gust of wind through and my disc went into warp drive, flying high and heading way left, across the road, slicing into the bushes. I cursed and threw my backup driver. At least the first disc hadn’t gone into the lake. Well, at least I didn’t think it did. My day couldn’t be that bad, could it? ...

The alarm chirped. Brad set the book aside, half turned in the bed, shut it off. He flipped on the small reading lamp on the shelf. At the door he fingered the wall switch. Down at the end of the corridor he unlocked the electrical box, flipped a switch: off on off on. Fifteen minutes ’til lights out, campers. Across the hall he slid his ID through the reader. The LED switched from green to yellow. He was glad it wasn’t red, meaning someone was in the room. Because A) he didn’t need a confrontation and B) he was looking forward to some quality time. He pushed open the door. ...

A Halloween Special 2012 Tale “What are you doing!? Stop it! Stop it!” The pregnant woman rubbed her belly in that absent-minded way expecting mothers do. “I’m going to fulfill my ancestor’s legacy, thanks to you, professor - and the girl.” The girl lay naked on a wooded table. A large, glass jar, kind of an inverted tub, enclosed her. The room was straight out of Dr. Jeckyll’s laboratory with shelves of oddly-shaped jars full of strange-looking content. A flame flickered beneath a beaker. Bubbles rose through a spiral tube, green liquid dripped into a flask. There were no windows. The only sign of modernity was the fluorescent lamp hanging overhead. The professor, sensibly dressed in slacks and a pale green, fluffy sweater was fastened to the heavy wooden chair. A thick leather strap encircled her throat, another her chest, a third her waist. More straps secured her wrists and ankles. ...

A Halloween Special 2012 Tale It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before. But it’s always been incidental. Like when we’re in a dressing room at a store. Even when we went to the clothing-optional beach Jackie chickened out. And it was her idea to go! Okay, so there was a time, well twice really, back in school. We were in our pot phase and we were stoned and we decided to go skinny dipping in the school pool. Jack was a cheerleader (So was Jackie. That’s how they met.) and he spent more time in the gym than most of the jocks and he told us that even though the door was locked, all it would take was a twist and a pull and the door would pop open and it did. I don’t remember much except our giggling echoing off the walls made us giggle even more. ...

A Halloween Special 2012 Tale Denise pulled open the door. “Trick or treat!” “Whoa! Look at you! A princess, a cowboy, and what are you little boy?” “I’m a girl and I’m Super Zit with awesome and disgusting powers! Squeeze me. I dare ya.” “Uh, I’ll pass.” Denise handed out the candy just as Lisa walked up. “God, I miss Halloween. All the dress-up, all the fun.” “Leese, we work for Anderson, remember?” ...

Holly showered and put on her work clothes. It was a cross between milk maid and French maid. More the latter minus the lace trim and in brown instead of black. She pulled on her underwear and dark brown pantyhose. Over that she added the frilly, tan panties. They showed below the hem. The skirt was short enough for that - on purpose. She pulled on the special bra, the one with a plunging neckline because the dress barely covered her nipples. ...

Joanie paused by the mirror-framed doorway. She brushed an errant hair from her face and gave herself a quick once over. Long black hair cascaded well past her shoulders. Her almond eyes gave her an Asian look, but her brown skin gave lie to that. She was Indian, one of the Northeast tribes. She didn’t know which. She was adopted as an infant, raised by whites, and the subject never came up. ...

The girl sat, naked, beneath the bows of the enormous tree. The thick, amber sap flowed across her face, dripped from her nose and chin, glued her eyes, sealed her lips. Her golden breasts rose and fell slowly as she slept. “They’re gumming up the works - literally. Production at the mill has dropped ten percent. The guys in the field don’t see it. They’re too busy cutting, limbing, and skidding ’em.” ...

Before there was Area 51, there was Area 22. There are no aliens there, but no one knows exactly what IS there. Maggie pulled up to the heavy, metal gate. It was clearly locked and radiator piercing tubes projected from it. Not that she planned to ram it. It was festooned with signs: KEEP OUT, NO TRESSPASSING, GOVERNMENT PROPERTY, RESTRICTED AREA, and others. Maggie retrieved her car registration and insurance card from the glove box. She tucked them into her wallet. In the back seat, she propped the cardboard sign in the rear window: tag stolen BJD 176. Her tag hadn’t been stolen. She had seen a green Honda in a parking lot a while back. Same year, make, and model as her car. Same color even. She’d made a note of the tag number. It wasn’t the best ruse. They could always trace the VIN, but it was better than nothing. Maggie popped the trunk, peeled back the carpet, lifted the cover to the spare tire well. A minute with a screwdriver and her license plate joined her wallet in the hole. She grabbed her camera, replaced the batteries, checked it, and dropped the lid. ...

Before there was Area 51, there was Area 22. There are no aliens there, but no one knows exactly what IS there. Maggie pulled up to the heavy, metal gate. It was clearly locked and radiator piercing tubes projected from it. Not that she planned to ram it. It was festooned with signs: KEEP OUT, NO TRESSPASSING, GOVERNMENT PROPERTY, RESTRICTED AREA, and others. Maggie retrieved her car registration and insurance card from the glove box. She tucked them into her wallet. In the back seat, she propped the cardboard sign in the rear window: tag stolen BJD 176. Her tag hadn’t been stolen. She had seen a green Honda in a parking lot a while back. Same year, make, and model as her car. Same color even. She’d made a note of the tag number. It wasn’t the best ruse. They could always trace the VIN, but it was better than nothing. Maggie popped the trunk, peeled back the carpet, lifted the cover to the spare tire well. A minute with a screwdriver and her license plate joined her wallet in the hole. She grabbed her camera, replaced the batteries, checked it, and dropped the lid. ...

The prisoner is nervous, fidgety. She glances at the man outside the cage. He looks down at her with a steady gaze. She looks at the guard. She’s standing, arms crossed, with her back to the woman. People filter into the room - witnesses, spectators, voyeurs. I make the final adjustments to the equipment, throw the switch. There is a loud buzzing that startles some of the onlookers. The air is filled with that distinctive burnt electrical smell. I fine-tune the settings, kill the power, and nod to the guard. ...

The gauge was heading toward E, so I took the exit. The white Honda stopped at the top of the ramp. Sat there. I was about to lean on the horn when a woman got out of the passenger side, hefted a backpack, and crossed the street to the on ramp. She stuck out her thumb. I had a decision to make. I’d have about ten minutes if I decided to go for it. ...

continuation from Waxing Moon Leah put her hair up in a bun and Ken tugged the rubber bathing cap over her head. He pulled Leah’s wrists behind her back, tied them palm to palm. He wrapped rope around her elbows and cinched it tight. The effect was to thrust Leah’s ample tits out even further. An image flashed into her mind of her bending over a pot of hot wax and dipping her tits into it. Maybe they could start an adult wax dipping business. Wax tits? Wax cock? The thought made her giggle. ...

Haley called out sick. She wasn’t sick, but her car was acting up and she decided she needed a mental health day anyway. She drove to the shop, caught a cab back to her apartment. Inside she stripped and took a long hot shower. She shaved her legs, shaved her bush. Hairless, it was unbelievably sensitive down there and she felt a thrill of anticipation. In front of the mirror she ran the drier through her long blonde hair until it was dry. Normally she wouldn’t do this, but she was stalling. She brushed her teeth - twice. She went to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. She glanced at the clock: 8:30. (Hey. It’s five o’clock somewhere.) She padded into the bedroom to make the preparations. ...

I’m just coming out of my bedroom when I nearly collide with Mila. “Hey, cousin.” “Hi.” She’s dressed for work, or more accurately mostly undressed for work with a short, black silk robe over nothing. She heads into the bathroom. Mila isn’t my cousin, neither is Kim - I’m pretty sure of that - just like “Auntie” isn’t my aunt. The girls are twins even though their papers have them at different ages. All the girls lie about their age depending on circumstances. The sixteen year olds pass themselves off as twelve or, if the authorities come snooping, then they’re twenty. When they came here they were officially sixteen and seventeen, sixteen being the minimum age to work in a brothel. Although that’s being changed to eighteen, and they’re both legally eighteen, so there you go. I have no idea how old they are, but I’m thinking twenties passing themselves off as teenagers. Mom’s thirty-six, but you’d never know it. ...

I was a couple of miles upstream and another couple inland. There are several overgrown dirt tracks back here in the woods. When they put the highway through about thirty years ago it cut off access, which is fine by me - miles from anywhere and the whole place to myself. Perfect for my morning nature walk. I got skunked again, didn’t see much to shoot, but I took a few shots anyway. Two days ago I came upon a fox. Critter just sat there like a house dog watching me watch him. I walked slowly toward him, firing away. Unfortunately I had my little pocket rocket of a camera, which means it was slow to focus and slower to save the shots, but I got a few keepers. ...

I was a couple of miles upstream and another couple inland. There are several overgrown dirt tracks back here in the woods. When they put the highway through about thirty years ago it cut off access, which is fine by me - miles from anywhere and the whole place to myself. Perfect for my morning nature walk. I got skunked again, didn’t see much to shoot, but I took a few shots anyway. Two days ago I came upon a fox. Critter just sat there like a house dog watching me watch him. I walked slowly toward him, firing away. Unfortunately I had my little pocket rocket of a camera, which means it was slow to focus and slower to save the shots, but I got a few keepers. ...

I pulled off the highway a bit after 1:00 a.m., went into McDonalds to pee and get a large coffee. My second wind had come and gone and I was beginning to fade. Twenty hours behind the wheel is a bit much, but I had only four to go. It was all downhill from here. Back on the highway I got up to speed, set the snooze control. There was a car in front of me and I slowly gained on it. It was a white, 5-Series BMW. It had a sticker on the back window that said University Hospital Staff. On the floor in back was a girl, a Vietnamese girl. She was wearing only her underwear and she was bound hand and foot. ...

(story continues from Dale V2.0) Dale 3: A Day in the Life Dale heard the click a second before the bedroom filled with soft music. Connie stirred. She reached over and tugged Dale’s metal-clad cock. He feigned sleep. She tugged again, harder. It was a game of sorts. She didn’t need a reason to dominate him, but she enjoyed it more that way. He edged closer. She grabbed a handful of hair. ...

Molly lay on the bed, the Earl’s bed, her arms and legs spread wide, the cords binding her cutting into her wrists and ankles. He is there - on her - thrusting into her. It is a dream, of course. Molly was adept at lucid dreaming, knew when she was in a dream, could even exercise some control over the situation. Not this time. She looks down at the girl, bound to the bed, a band of white cloth over her eyes. Her nightgown is pulled up to her waist exposing the dark triangle between her legs. Her wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts with bed curtain cord. ...

The men emerged from the woods running low and fast. They pulled their ski masks down over their faces and stepped onto the back porch of the house. One tried the door, turned and shook his head. The other stepped off the porch and retrieved the spare key from under the fake rock. The woman’s back was to them, but the girl saw them and shrieked. The men rushed in. One tackled the woman, the other grabbed the girl. The woman gave no resistance as her hands were taped behind her back and her mouth sealed. The men wrestled with the girl, taped her wrists, taped her mouth, and dragged her to the living room couch. They wrapped tape around her ankles, joined them to her wrists with another length of tape. They returned to the kitchen, grabbed the woman and walked her out of the house into the woods. ...

Mandy glanced at the dash. 108 miles per hour. She clenched her fists in her lap. Eddie reached the metal travel cup from its holder, took a gulp, then another. He handed the cup to Mandy. She didn’t drink vodka and certainly not at nine in the morning, but she took a sip. When Eddie wanted you to do something you did it. Not that Eddie treated her badly. She was his girl, number two in the pecking order at the club. Number one was Jessica, Paul’s girl. She and Jess were allowed to keep half their tips. The other girls pooled theirs and split them equally … after the brothers pulled out the tax money and a bit for themselves of course. Life with Eddie was pretty good. Though, truth be told, he had a dark side. Mandy had never witnessed anything, but her intuition told her that nobody fucked with Eddie Lipkin. If you’d told her that as a boy he liked to pull the wings off flies, well, it wouldn’t surprise her. ...

The child was sitting, alone, digging in the sand with a spoon. She was young, maybe three years old. Asilla glanced around. There were other people in the park, but none nearby. She walked over to the girl. “Hi.” The girl looked up at her with big, brown eyes. Asilla squatted. “My name is Silla. What’s yours?” The child didn’t respond, only stared. Asilla took another look around, held up her hand before the child’s face, and made the sign. The girl began to cry. ...

The child was sitting, alone, digging in the sand with a spoon. She was young, maybe three years old. Asilla glanced around. There were other people in the park, but none nearby. She walked over to the girl. “Hi.” The girl looked up at her with big, brown eyes. Asilla squatted. “My name is Silla. What’s yours?” The child didn’t respond, only stared. Asilla took another look around, held up her hand before the child’s face, and made the sign. The girl began to cry. ...

I raise Trish’s dress. It’s a wedding dress, traditional white with many petticoats and lace. Even though she’s lying on the bed, she has white, spike heel shoes on her feet. I expose her legs, then that stretch of cool, naked thigh just above her stockings. She wears no panties. Her bush is strawberry blonde, lush and curly. I drizzle some lubricant between her nether lips, work it into her with my fingers. I settle between her thighs and push into her. Her sex is slick and tight and cold. Well, not cold, room temperature, maybe. ...

“Shit.” “What?” Rob pointed at glowing the sign. ACCIDENT EXIT 28 ALL LANES BLOCKED “Probably the fog. Can’t see for shit.” Rob checked his mirrors, down shifted, and rolled off the interstate. “Where are we going?” “A long cut. It’s further, but it’ll get us home sooner than if we stayed on the highway.” They drove along for several minutes in silence. The fog grew thicker. Rob downshifted. He slid his hand over to Sally’s knee, under her skirt. ...

“Watch the esky.” Sally turned, said “What?” and promptly barked her shin on the ice chest. “Ow! Damn!” “Here. Take the torch.” She did, turned it on, and followed its beam between the tents. When she came back Nigel’s chair was empty. The fire had died down. Sharon and Rod were mere silhouettes. She was kneeling between his legs. Sally could tell because her head was bobbing up and down. ...

“Just give her a scoop twice a day. She’ll pester you, but she’s gotta lose weight.” Mittens, aka Mitt the cat, was, in fact, rubbing against Janet’s leg meowing pitifully. “Sure.” Gary turned to go, turned back. “Oh and-” “Gary! Go damnit! You’ve got a plane to catch. I’ll feed the cat. I’ll water the plants. It’s just two days. Everything will be fine.” “I was just going to say I love you.” ...

“I’d like to take you home and get you plastered.” Jan barked out a laugh. Henry you don’t have to get me drunk to have your way with me. True, they hadn’t slept together, but they were at that point and tonight was as good as any. Besides work had been hell and she hadn’t tied one on in a long time. Still, if she was going to have sex she’d like to remember it. ...

“Shit!” Murray played the traffic, found a gap and made a u-turn, headed back to the lab. He was supposed to send Syd a report and he had forgotten. Didn’t see the point, actually. But the Magnus 360 was making them rich and if the boss was a micromanager, well, so be it. Syd was supposed to be on vacation. Key word: supposed. Oh well. Murray pulled into the lot, let himself in the front door. There was no security to speak of other than a few locks. The industrial complex had guards, but they stayed outside. As he passed Syd’s office he glanced at the bank of monitors on the wall. The cameras weren’t for security, it was just Syd’s way of keeping an eye on things. Murray stopped. Someone was at Dick’s workstation - and it wasn’t Dick. ...

“Mom, shoo! We can handle things. That’s why they invented maids of honor.” “He’s your ex.” “And I’m gay. Who says I can’t have a maid of honor who’s a man?” “Because, technically-” “Mother, please go pester someone else.” The door closed. Footsteps retreated down the hall. “You know, this is a bit weird.” “Babe, you don’t know weird.” Dan gave her a quizzical look. Marsha bent and pulled a box from under the bed, flipped off the lid. Pulled out a pair of white panties. ...

(story continues from The Tales of Sir Dwayne 3: The Offer) The Tales of Sir Dwayne - 4: The Lady Is Trained “What troubles you, Dwayne?” Dwayne, not Sir Dwayne, he noted. The whore (nee Lady Birgit) sat next to him wearing good clothes. Not the finery she was accustomed to, but not the whore’s ragged dress, either. Sitting next to him on the bench, not kneeling, chained at his feet as in the past. ...

Ellie burst from Hendrson’s office, cheeks red, tears welling up. The blonde girl who had been peering into a mirror turned and stepped in front of her. “Buy a vowel, get a clue. You are out of your league. You can’t beat me. Why don’t you go back to the bayou where you belong, marry your cousin, make babies.” Ellie brushed past her and pushed through the door. “Shauna?” Henderson gestured to her. ...

The chime rang, Aaron pressed the button, buzzed his client through. “Good morning, Lorraine. How are you?” “I’m here. How do you think I am?” Aaron let it pass. Lorraine Gillis-Barton had never missed a session - not in over three years. She was a striking woman. Thirty-something. Had the look of money both in what she wore and how she, well, looked, as in down her nose at most people. She probably had a bit of surgery when she’d hit the big 3-0, but you couldn’t tell. ...

The shadow emerged from the dark underbrush. Cheryl yelped. It was a man, naked with a bizarre headdress - a wooden mask that covered most of his face and a mass of straw that hung down past his shoulders. He wasn’t totally naked. His penis was wrapped in some kind of vegetation. It stood straight out and bobbed obscenely as he approached. Cheryl took a step back, then another. A third brought her up short as she bumped against a second man. He grabbed her. ...

Kas smeared adhesive on the rubber flange. Teri opened her mouth and took the monstrous nipple inside. She bit down on the stem and Kas pressed the flange to her lips, sealing it in place. She drew the ends of the pink ribbon behind Teri’s head and tied them. Kas stepped back, surveyed the girls. The four pledges were dressed in identical white baby doll nighties. The nighties weren’t sheer, but they were short, short enough to see the diapers. They wore pink mittens and pink booties, likewise secured with pink ribbons. They had matching, pink pacifiers glued to their lips. And they were connected by three sets of pink, fuzzy handcuffs. ...

The van pulled up to the curb. Denise climbed in. She was the last, so she got the passenger seat. Tina sat next to her, Jess drove. Nobody spoke. The others in back said nothing. Most slept. She thought she heard a snore. They rode across town to Anderson’s warehouse. In addition to being their pimp, he had a nice little black market business. As they rolled up Denise could see the back of a panel truck filled with large bowls. Anderson pulled the door down, latched it, climbed into the truck and drove off. Jess followed. ...

Annette lunged forward slowly, but not slowly enough. Nude, her breasts swung with the movement. It was why she did yoga naked. If she did it right, nothing moved, well not much. But there was the sound of distant thunder and she was anxious. She finished her routine and grabbed the remote. A scroll bar appeared at the bottom of the TV screen. Annette felt a little thrill, a tingle running down her spine. “SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WARNING ISSUED FOR THE FOLLOWING COUNTIES UNTIL 2:00 AM…” She thumbed the remote and found a weather guy standing before a weather map. He was explaining how the two low pressure systems would merge over the next few hours to create a massive storm with torrential rains, damaging winds, hail, lightening, even the possibility of a tornado. ...

Anne pushed the covers aside and slid out of bed. She pulled the thin gown over her head, reached for her hair brush, and stepped in front of the mirror. Anne frowned. What’s wrong with me? It’s not right that the younger sister should marry before the older. Yes, she is the pretty one, but I’m not ugly. More handsome than pretty, but Mother is more handsome still and she married Father. I’m neither skinny nor fat. I see the way men look at me. ...

Anne pushed the covers aside and slid out of bed. She pulled the thin gown over her head, reached for her hair brush, and stepped in front of the mirror. Anne frowned. What’s wrong with me? It’s not right that the younger sister should marry before the older. Yes, she is the pretty one, but I’m not ugly. More handsome than pretty, but Mother is more handsome still and she married Father. I’m neither skinny nor fat. I see the way men look at me. ...

“A pet!? You win the lottery and you want a pet.” “Mm.” “What kind of pet?” “Something, er, different. Unique.” “Uh huh. And expensive.” “Hey. It’s only money.” All talk of pets was forgotten in the month that followed. Nina was focused on their trip to Thailand. She didn’t know why Gerry had chosen Thailand, but Nina went along with it. It was a trip out of the country. A trip to someplace foreign, exotic. But then the subject of clothes came up. ...

Diana pushed open the door. A wall of noise hit her. The place was packed, too crowded to work, but then he caught her eye. A lot of the men glanced her way, just to check her out. He held her gaze for a moment, then turned his attention back to the TV. Diana made a slow circuit of the bar. When she got to him he slid off the stool. ...

Through the wonders of their technology, the experiences of the bride and groom are actually beamed into the brains of the participants, so they ‘participate’ in the deflowering, yet they’re still in their own minds experiencing the group hug. Ip Terla is the first to be called. She leaves the table, crosses to the door, pale yellow gown streaming behind as she walks. She is a vision - the physical ideal of my childhood dreams. That we should be thrust together after such a long absence, and under these circumstances … ...

The night was dark, a million stars twinkled overhead. As she crested a hill there was the moon, brilliantly full, hanging low in the sky. Carolyn glanced at Lee Anne. Her soft, white sweater, stretched tight across her tits fairly glowed in the moonlight. Carolyn resisted the urge to cop a feel. She had seen Lee’s tits, often, but it never went farther than looking. Any touching was reserved for the back: neck rubs, back rubs. They showered together … sometimes. Temptation almost overwhelmed her then. ...

(story continues from Bitgirl Part 3: The Race) Part 4: Bitgirl’s Reward Evans grabbed Bitgirl’s reins, yanked her head around before she could plant another hoof in Dee’s crotch. That she realized that Dee was, in fact, a man made the idea irresistible. Evans led his pony down the hill to where Angela sat, cradling her arm. He helped the girl into the cart and led them back to the stall. He released Bitgirl from the cart, helped Angela walk inside. He cinched Bitgirl’s reins to a ring in the wall. Shut the door. ...

“Ken, where do we get our wax?” “Who wants to know?” I knew who wanted to know - the MILF. I had seen her walk by, knew she’d taken a spot on the side. And, sure enough, Sam pointed at the blonde with the green dress. “I’ll take care of it.” Three visits in three weeks and no kid this time. I had her number at a glance. She wore a ring, but not a wedding ring, she had a kid about ten years old (a girl), which put her in the thirties, and there was no evidence of a man. ...

“Base to 11.” “Go.” “We have a code from room 1214.” “Copy.” I sprinted down the hall into the stairwell, took the steps two at a time up three flights. I paused before the door to room 1214 to catch my breath. Code is like an internal 911 call. If the handset is off the hook the phone automatically dials the hotel switchboard. The phones are very touchy and it’s easy to leave the handset ever so slightly off. That’s the way it’s been for the few years I’ve worked here. Only had one emergency. An old lady fell and broke her wrist. ...

Renee handed the app to the woman. “Taneesha. Is that how you pronounce it - tuh NEESH ah?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Well, let’s see. You have experience with dogs, cats, and fish. What about turtles, lizards, snakes?” Taneesha shrugged. “Not much.” None would be more like it. Only pet she ever had was a turtle and it died after two days. “Do you have any experience with plants?” “Some. I mean they’re plants, right?” ...

follow up from “The Christmas Tree” “Denise, you’re violet.” Which means I’d go last and get to watch as the piece is prepared. Anderson calls this “The Rainbow” because each of us will be a color: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. His Christmas tree was a big hit: ten girls forming a human pyramid, bound neck to foot with sparkly, green garland, a colorful, plastic ball encasing each of our heads, only our brightly colored tits hanging out. They were the “ornaments” and they were very popular, if the groping was any indication. The guys asked Anderson to come up with something else. They do a “theme” meeting monthly. This month: spandex. ...

Kyle woke to the nightmare that was his new reality. Sun streamed into the room sending harsh shadows through the bars of his crib. He lay in a ball, clutching himself, hungry beyond hunger. If he had indeed been an infant he’d be bawling his head off. She walked into the room, bent over the crib. Good morning, little one. She said that every morning, though he had no idea what it meant. While his own language was full of harsh sounds, hers was soft, almost song-like. He couldn’t tell where one word ended and another began. ...

Got the inspiration for this story here: muddypinays.com - If you like Asians (yeah) and if you like them in mud, or better yet, sinking in a peat bog (hell yeah!) then you’ll like the site. “Never seen nothin’ like it. Gotta be thirty feet tall with a big ass antenna on top and a bunch of little ones scattered all over it.” “Ham radio?” “I figured that with the bigun, but the little ones? And I asked him about it, you know, chatty like while I fixed his furnace. He said it was a hobby, but he said it in a way that told me I shouldn’t be askin’ after it.” ...

Got the inspiration for this story here: muddypinays.com - If you like Asians (yeah) and if you like them in mud, or better yet, sinking in a peat bog (hell yeah!) then you’ll like the site. “Never seen nothin’ like it. Gotta be thirty feet tall with a big ass antenna on top and a bunch of little ones scattered all over it.” “Ham radio?” “I figured that with the bigun, but the little ones? And I asked him about it, you know, chatty like while I fixed his furnace. He said it was a hobby, but he said it in a way that told me I shouldn’t be askin’ after it.” ...

The sound of feet skipping down the stairs caught my attention. It could only be one person. Five o’clock on the Friday before spring break and the exodus was complete. Well, all except for the five girls who were staying - and the woman. I had heard the footsteps three floors up and there was only one tenant on that floor: Morgan Trent, 24, freshman. Sound was followed by feet, legs, heavy-ish thighs, bouncing tits, a perky ponytail. ...

Evette sat naked before the screen, her pale skin and shock of black hair looking ghoulish in the harsh, gray light. Her small tits made her nipples look grotesquely large and she was kneading her left one, hard. j o She slid her hand between her legs. cant c Evette raised the seat, slouched back, placed her feet on the desk straddling the monitor. ok Later … leave the a hole get half his $$ ...

Mary, naked, nestled in my lap. She was absent-mindedly squeezing my cock. I took her hand away and kissed it. “That’s very distracting.” “Sorry.” Tina, Billie, and Ali, naked also, had a daisy chain going on, sitting in a circle on the floor, grooming each other. It was that way with the midges. Always touching each other whenever they had a free moment. Often that touching led to other things, witness Leesa and Dee Dee’s absence. ...

I unrolled the long, black hose, left it loosely coiled in the sun. The rototiller made quick work of the plot and hand digging took less than an hour. It ended up kidney-shaped, the trough a thin scar cutting across the middle. I made a couple of trips with the cart, unloaded the truck, and arranged the plants about the plot. The trough would be lined with bricks, but not just yet. ...

I unrolled the long, black hose, left it loosely coiled in the sun. The rototiller made quick work of the plot and hand digging took less than an hour. It ended up kidney-shaped, the trough a thin scar cutting across the middle. I made a couple of trips with the cart, unloaded the truck, and arranged the plants about the plot. The trough would be lined with bricks, but not just yet. ...

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With sil-” “Mrs. Smythe?” Mary whirled. “Oh! I’m sorry if I startled you.” Mary smiled. “No, no, dear, that’s all right.” “I’m Edna Lambe from the university extension.” “Yes, dear.” “I was wondering if I could talk with you for a few minutes. You have a reputation for growing prize-winning produce and I was wondering if you would share your secret. All in the name of science you understand.” ...

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With sil-” “Mrs. Smythe?” Mary whirled. “Oh! I’m sorry if I startled you.” Mary smiled. “No, no, dear, that’s all right.” “I’m Edna Lambe from the university extension.” “Yes, dear.” “I was wondering if I could talk with you for a few minutes. You have a reputation for growing prize-winning produce and I was wondering if you would share your secret. All in the name of science you understand.” ...

“But why? What did I do?” “Listen, June, it’s not you, it’s me.” June burst into tears. “Bullshit! Tell me the truth!” Because you’ve turned into a regular porker. “June … it’s just not working out.” “Three years and suddenly it’s not working out?” I had nothing, just waved my hand, shrugged. I turned and walked toward the door. “Fine,” she said through wracking sobs. “Fine, but if I can’t have you, nobody else will - ever!” ...

Nadine comes - again - making small, muffled, gasping sounds. My own vibe isn’t buzzing … for now. We’re wedged into the tool box behind the cab in Phil’s truck, belly to belly, breast to breast. I’m not gay, but Nadine’s breasts feel nice against my own, all warm and soft. I have no idea how long we’ve been travelling or where we’re going. The truck sways and rocks. I doze. ...

Nadine comes - again - making small, muffled, gasping sounds. My own vibe isn’t buzzing … for now. We’re wedged into the tool box behind the cab in Phil’s truck, belly to belly, breast to breast. I’m not gay, but Nadine’s breasts feel nice against my own, all warm and soft. I have no idea how long we’ve been travelling or where we’re going. The truck sways and rocks. I doze. ...

This story was an entry into the 2011 Winter Fetish Story Contest Carly checked her watch, tossed back the last of her wine, stood, brushed the sand from her ass, and headed into the trees to pee. Cary followed her. Even out here the ten o’clock rule applied. Back home she would have prepared for bed, stripped and presented herself naked, bearing her wrist and ankle cuffs. Paul would lock them on her, then lead her into the bedroom where he would lock her collar to the bed chain. ...

Story entry in the 2011 Winter Fetish Stories Contest Carly checked her watch, tossed back the last of her wine, stood, brushed the sand from her ass, and headed into the trees to pee. Cary followed her. Even out here the ten o’clock rule applied. Back home she would have prepared for bed, stripped and presented herself naked, bearing her wrist and ankle cuffs. Paul would lock them on her, then lead her into the bedroom where he would lock her collar to the bed chain. ...

This story was an entry into the 2011 Winter Fetish Story Contest Kelly stood before the judge, nervous as hell. This had been her third bust for soliciting. She was looking at jail time. It would be worse for Cheryl because of the dope. Cheryl always had dope. They had shared a joint earlier, something to pass the time. The cops hadn’t made her pee in a cup … yet. ...

Story entry in the 2011 Winter Fetish Stories Contest Kelly stood before the judge, nervous as hell. This had been her third bust for soliciting. She was looking at jail time. It would be worse for Cheryl because of the dope. Cheryl always had dope. They had shared a joint earlier, something to pass the time. The cops hadn’t made her pee in a cup … yet. “Miss Daniels, you have been charged with soliciting. How do you plead?” ...

I not going to lie about it, I was nervous. This was it - the BIG one. I sipped my coffee, glanced at my bookshelf. The Soul of a New Machine The title jumped out at me. How appropriate. I picked up the folder, flipped it open, read her bio for the hundredth time. Alice Wendover, MS/BS/PhD, an engineer with a strong background in psychology, age: 25, height: 5’ even, weight: 110#. ...

Story entry in the 2011 Winter Fetish Stories Contest “Let us help clean up.” “Thanks, Mom, we’ve got it covered.” “You sure?” “Yeah.” I gave her a peck on the cheek and shooed her and my sister out the door. She made the ‘call me’ gesture and I nodded. Truth was there wasn’t much to do. As catering manager at the hotel, Dina had it down to a science and in a couple of minutes we were settled on the couch with fresh glasses of wine. ...

This story was an entry into the 2011 Winter Fetish Story Contest “Let us help clean up.” “Thanks, Mom, we’ve got it covered.” “You sure?” “Yeah.” I gave her a peck on the cheek and shooed her and my sister out the door. She made the ‘call me’ gesture and I nodded. Truth was there wasn’t much to do. As catering manager at the hotel, Dina had it down to a science and in a couple of minutes we were settled on the couch with fresh glasses of wine. ...

Barry stood before the inspector. He turned. The inspector peered closely. He even used a magnifying glass. Less than perfection was not an option. The inspector nodded. He opened the door to the cage. Barry climbed in. The inspector closed and locked the door. The cage was lined with soft, plush velvet. There was a slit in the middle. Barry slid his feet in, then his legs until he was waist deep in the luxurious fabric. The cage was made of silver, its sides woven like a basket. He could see out well enough, but others would have trouble seeing in. Given his nakedness, he felt that was a good thing. On the other hand, he was a perfect specemin. He was meant to be enjoyed visually. And while feeling a bit modest, he had worked hard to achieve that level of perfection and had escaped the life of misery and squalor he had been born into. ...

We hit their camp just before dawn, took most of them out in the first strike. The rest fought hard, as they always do, fought to the death, but it was soon over. Luckily we didn’t lose anybody, though I took one in the leg. While we waited for the chopper, one of their trucks pulled up. There was a white flag fluttering on the antenna. Four troops leapt from the back of the truck. They had white armbands, as did the driver. It was the one note of civility in the war. We allowed each other to retrieve our dead. We kept their weapons, of course, but let them keep their packs and personal gear. ...

The bicycle crested the hill. Hard to miss that hot pink and black outfit. I checked that the Harley was well hidden behind the tractor under the eave and headed into the woods. I ducked behind some bushes at the corner of the house and adjusted the camera. I waited. Didn’t have to wait long. She peddled into the clearing and onto the brick patio. (click click click) She straddled the bike as she took off her helmet, shook out her impossibly blonde hair. (click click) She rolled the bike behind, then into the garage. ...

Adele batted his hand away. “Hey! Stop that.” He put his hand back on her tit. He had his other hand in her hair, holding her head as he kissed her, a teeth grinding kiss. “Jesus Andy!” He fumbled the buttons on her blouse, tugged at the thin fabric. “Never done it here before. Done it everywhere else but here, baby. This is gonna be something you never forget.” She wasn’t wearing a front-clasp bra. She always wore that bra for him. He wrapped his arms around her, slipped the catch, slid his hands under the cups, squeezed her tits - hard. ...

The wedding went as weddings do: Leela had a tantrum and dumped her basket of rose petals in the aisle, sat down and cried. At the reception a drunk Uncle Phil collided with a drunk Aunt May on the dance floor, setting off a mini firestorm until both had fresh drinks, kissed, and made up. Kind of creeped me out. The fact that they were siblings, I mean. And it was a serious, and I mean serious, kiss. Well, the jury was still out on that. And Uncle Earl, the official family photographer, ran out of film. Hey! Earl! One word: Digital! ...

The wedding went as weddings do: Leela had a tantrum and dumped her basket of rose petals in the aisle, sat down and cried. At the reception a drunk Uncle Phil collided with a drunk Aunt May on the dance floor, setting off a mini firestorm until both had fresh drinks, kissed, and made up. Kind of creeped me out. The fact that they were siblings, I mean. And it was a serious, and I mean serious, kiss. Well, the jury was still out on that. And Uncle Earl, the official family photographer, ran out of film. Hey! Earl! One word: Digital! ...

A movement caught his eye. He picked up the binoculars, focused. The curvy girl was leaving the pool, tits swaying as she climbed the ladder. She turned and walked away from him. The sight of her ass jiggling made him hard. The blonde was thin, almost boyish with slim hips and a small, round ass that didn’t jiggle when she walked. Had a nice rack, though. Curvy girl settled on the lounge next to hers. Blondie was absorbed in her Kindle and didn’t look up. ...

On the first day of Christmas my husband made of me a gift ’neath the Christmas tree. “Any time tonight.” I jabbed the intercom button. “Coming.” I checked myself in the bathroom mirror. Elf slut, definitely elf slut. I’m wearing red, spike heel ankle booties, red stockings topped with white fur, a green miniskirt so short I can see my candy cane panties, a green midi top, a jaunty Santa cap, and elf ears, pointy elf ears. ...

Med scratched the dry, parched ground. The plants were wilted and no amount of hand watering seemed to help. She looked up, used her sight. Rain! She looked deeper. It wasn’t just a passing shower, but a good, drenching rain and it was headed her way. Med smiled. It had been a long, dry month. “Medin’la.” Lost in sight, Med, startled, whirled. “Oh! Uh, yes, yes, I’m Med’la” “Medin, I am Torina’La.” ...

In a little shop down an alley off a side street on the edge of Chinatown, Sandy fondled the red, silk dress. There was nothing special about it at first glance - your basic knee-length Chinese dress with a bit of yellow piping for trim. But the sensation of it on her skin had a magical effect. She had to fight the urge to strip and give herself to the kiss of silk on her naked body. She took the dress over to the counter, set it down. It would be the perfect thing - for later. ...

Mei spooned the last of the eggs into her mouth and took a sip of coffee. She refilled her cup, sat on the bed, and surveyed her world. The apartment was small, only one room with a tiny enclosure in the corner for the toilet and shower. She used the kitchen sink for everything. It wasn’t much, but it was cheap and it allowed her to send money home to her parents. ...

Maggie glanced at her schedule. “Shit!” They’d cancelled one of her 300s and none of the others was available. “This sucks. This really sucks!” If she could have taken a full load of courses, she could have avoided summer school this year, maybe taken a trip abroad. She checked the 300 level courses again, then, for the hell of it, checked the 400s. All of them required prerequisites except one: Culinary 403 - Regional Exotics. “With the advent of eco-touring, travelers are finding themselves in some of the most remote places on earth. Part of the draw is to experience the local cuisine. While the tourists may not want to sleep in mud huts and chow down with the natives, as a chef you can provide authentic, local delicacies to your patrons. Click here for full description and syllabus.” ...

I held the spoon up to Patti’s lips. She slurped, swallowed. “Thank you, Master.” “You don’t remember anything?” She shook her head. “No, Master. You know how I zone out when you wrap me.” “Mm. What do you remember?” “I remember you wrapping me and standing me in the window-” “Go back to the beginning. You know how I like you to tell me these things.” “Yes, Master. May I have more chowder?” ...

I held the spoon up to Patti’s lips. She slurped, swallowed. “Thank you, Master.” “You don’t remember anything?” She shook her head. “No, Master. You know how I zone out when you wrap me.” “Mm. What do you remember?” “I remember you wrapping me and standing me in the window-” “Go back to the beginning. You know how I like you to tell me these things.” “Yes, Master. May I have more chowder?” ...

Toula stepped into the shower to wash away the smell of beer a cigarettes. Three doubles in a row wrecked her, but it gave her four days off and some quality, private time. She examined herself in the mirror as she did more frequently these days. She was feeling old or maybe it was just tired. Her pretty, green eyes had dark circles now that the makeup was washed off. Her curly, red hair looked ratty. She thought again about getting a boob job. She had always been top heavy and the bra straps were making permanent furrows in her shoulders. But her cleavage was her cash draw in a way, in both senses of the word. ...

Mishka drove by the house a second time. She was still early. It wasn’t like her. Her execution was usually flawless. It was nerves she decided. It was a new sensation for her, but this one was big, very big. The man was both powerful and dangerous, very dangerous. She backed the rental car into the driveway. It had stolen plates, but if someone should see the number and make a note of it, dots could be made, connected, people could get hurt. ...

Darleen lay in her mother’s lap, suckling. On one hand it was a Sunday morning like any other, on the other her world was about to turn upside down. Today she was 16. Today she would take her first step to adulthood, her first step to becoming a Cow. And if she did well in high school and was passed by the lactation board she’d attend Bovinity School. A nun sat with them in the milking room. Sitting quietly while Darleen sucked. But presently her mother eased her off, gave her a kiss. The nun prepared the injection, a cocktail of hormones, stem cells, and an alphabet soup of chemicals Darleen couldn’t pronounce. ...

“There!” We turn to look where Adam is pointing, see nothing but forest. Then Tabitha points. “There! By the second big tree.” Then we see it. The clearing. As we move closer we can see the natives, thin, wiry men and women. Some of the men carry spears. Some of the women carry babies. Adam throttles down the outboard and the dugout eases toward shore. Just as the canoe nudges ground men rush forward. I turn to Adam, but he just sits, calmly, in the back of the boat. ...

There was a knock at the door. It opened a crack. “You decent?” Carly tucked her shirt into her jeans, pulled up the zip. “Yeah!” Xaviar stuck his head in the door. “Hate to bother you on Friday night, but we had problems with 3. Had to do a bunch of reseals. Barely made our quota. Needs to be fixed by first shift Monday you know.” “Not a problem.” She’d started to say she had nothing to do anyway now that Ben had dumped her, but she bit her tongue. ...

Kelly bounded up the steps, her tits bouncing in time with her ponytail. A moment later she was in my office, panting. “Sorry it took so long. I went to the library, like you said, but all the computers were being used. I mean, I didn’t go to the corral because you said not to.” She brushed a hair from her face. “Anyway, I hung around. I mean, there were people just sitting at the desks, not even using the computers. I gave up and came back here, but then I remembered the lab. I have a key.” ...

(………………….) “Speak standard English, please.” “Why?” “First off, it has a soothing effect on them. Secondly, it will give you insight into their psychology.” “We breed them. What does psychology have to do with it?” “It’s less labor intensive to let them look after themselves than for us to be herders. That and it’s felt to produce a better product. We’ll start with the blonde.” “Free range?” “College girl, out with friends, had too much to drink courtesy of our bartender, called a cab - our cab of course.” ...

It was near closing time and we were both a little tipsy when we left the bar. A few steps down the sidewalk Andrea froze. She cocked her head as if listening for something. First thing I thought was a mugger or rapist. Andrea grabbed me. Kissed me hard. A tooth jarring kiss. “Ooh! Hey, girl. I love you, too, but can’t we wait until we get home?” “I’m going to bite your neck and I want you to swoon.” ...

One and one is two, two and two is four, four and four is…is eight, eight and eight is six…six…one and one is two…dog!…food time…feel good time… Kristen allowed herself to be guided through the house. She had met Emile about a week ago at the sponsors’ dinner. She’d been serving. He ate sparingly. “I eat to be polite, but I greatly prefer my own food. You understand.” She didn’t really, but she nodded and smiled politely. ...

The first day … “Anne? Have a minute?” The dark haired woman looked over her the top of her glasses. “Sure. What’s up?” “Well. I was checking the v4 mods and I found something funny.” “Oh?” “Ever hear of weasel 1?” “Weasel?” “WSL01. Here.” Lyssa stepped around the desk and set down a folder. Damn! “It looks like a driver for a subsystem, but it’s not in Change Control.” “Well, if it’s not there, it’s not part of the system.” ...

“Uncle Dave? You know who that is don’t you?” “Who?” “The redhead over yonder.” Dave shrugged. “Said she was in culinary school and as a class project she had to help in the cook-off.” “Well, that’s Caitlin Ballard, old man Ballard’s granddaughter.” “You sure? Said her name was Tracy Simms or Simmons, something like that.” “Uh uh. She goes to Western. They play us in basketball. She’s a cheerleader and they had a picture of the squad in the program. I kinda had a thing for her, so I asked around. She’s old man Ballard’s kin for sure.” ...

That Vinny is a sick bastard. The gorilla creased the heavy, white cardboard, folded it in half. He picked up the unconscious girl and laid her on it, made a couple of marks, lifted her off and proceeded to undress her. Surprisingly, for a goon like Vinny, he has a very delicate touch, plays Mozart on a harpsichord. No lie. The room was in an apartment, an apartment that had been wired. People who shouldn’t be there, doing things they shouldn’t be doing, with people they shouldn’t be with were regularly filmed. The resulting video ensured a certain amount of cooperation from those people. ...

It’s not that Chloe didn’t trust men, she didn’t trust anybody, well, not enough for this. What if, right in the middle of it, he had a heart attack? Like in that Stephen King book. She had let Mark tie her up, but she’d insisted on the fuzzy handcuffs and having the key. And it was okay, sort of. She couldn’t really get into it. What if she came so hard that she dropped the key? What if she dropped the key AND Mark had a heart attack!? No. Better to have total control. ...

continued from part one Part 2: Caught! “Jesus Christ!” “What?” “Bag weighs a fucking ton!” Hands groped Chloe. “This ain’t uniforms, Charlie.” More groping. “Sure as hell not. Feels like a body.” “You don’t think …” “Only one way to find out.” Chloe felt herself hefted out of the bin. She landed with a thump on the concrete floor. Light poured into the bag and she clamped her eyes shut. “Son of a bitch.” ...

I applied a bit of lube to my pussy lips; made them glisten. I touched up my makeup. Not too much. Kevin wants to go for that innocent look. At 19 I should look innocent, but I’m not, nowhere near. On the other hand, after being with him for about six months, I’ve regained something of a youthful demeanor. I’m Anh. Vietnamese. I grew up in a very strict household, so naturally when the opportunity came, I split. The opportunity came in the form of Jamie. A biker. One day, when I was 16, I hopped on her bike and never looked back. ...

“Fuck!” Frank slammed his fist on the table. My, thankfully, empty foam cup bounced and hit the floor. I retrieved it. “She’s going to shut us down! The fucking bitch is going to shut us down!” “It’s not her.” “The fuck it ain’t. Yeah, I know, it’s Martin, but she’s his hatchet man. What the fuck does Sylvia see in him?” I shrugged. “She’s in love.” “With that scumbag? Doesn’t she have eyes? I mean come on!” ...

I’m a miner, not a biologist, so it never occurred to me to try to figure out how the worms did what they did. We were just glad for whatever it was. And it wasn’t the worms themselves, it was Mother. I called it Mother not because, as I said, I understood the biology, it just seemed to be a safe haven for the worms. It provided protection of sorts. Orifices dotted its surface and whenever there was a threat, from outside worms say, Mother’s worms would slither inside while the warrior worms did battle. ...

“What do you want for your birthday?” “You - all wrapped up. Shit! I shouldn’t have said that.” I raised my glass. “In vino veritas. But I thought we had an agreement” “That’s not what I meant.” Which was a lie. The deal is that she could stay out of the closet and do what lesbians do as long as she didn’t hit on me. “Oh hell. What I’d like to do is wrap you up like a mummy.” ...

“Incoming.” The man dropped a sheaf of papers on the woman’s desk. “Three orders. Two Fifi’s, a Little Cindy, and a Baby Doll.” “What? Now? It’s Friday and five o’clock for gosh sakes.” The man shrugged. “The way it is. People put it off ’til the last minute, then want weekend delivery.” “Well, we’re out of Cindy’s. I shipped the last one out Wednesday.” “It came back. Hasn’t been restocked yet. I’ll go check it out. You call Courtney and make sure she’s on it.” ...

It wasn’t that she was obsessed with masturbation, it’s just that when Master was away she was forbidden to touch herself and so, naturally she could think of little else. At least she would get some relief tonight … or not. It depended on Master’s mood. The mantle clock began to chime. 10:00, time for Master’s e-visit. Lisa checked the webcam, positioned the chair and settled in. She slouched a bit, draped her legs over the arm rests, reached her hands between her legs, spread her pussy lips, lay her head back and closed her eyes. ...

Jodi was in the trees - literally. Had been for over ten miles. She had taken a short cut. Instead of riding the interstate fifty miles south then seventy northwest the map showed a two-lane state road that cut the corner. With luck she’d be in her hotel room, and more importantly, in a nice hot bath, in an hour instead of three. She relished the thought of calling Steve and giving him a piece of her mind. Imagine sending her to this Godforsaken place on Christmas Eve! Still, Jodi entertained herself with pleasant thoughts of what she’d do with the bonus money he’d promised. A trip south. Definitely a trip south. Someplace warm. Maybe a nice Caribbean cruise. ...

Until today, Tamika’s tit was the oddest project I’d approved. It was a collage of all sorts of tits called appropriately enough ‘The Breast.’ There were photos, tits made of paper mache, furry tits, it was both photographic and tactile - which brings me to the odd part. She wanted a live tit included. So she mounted a box in the wall with a hole in the top and for exhibit weekend she lay on a shelf behind the wall with her tit dangling. Did I mention the tactile part? So why was she surprised when she found herself being groped repeatedly? Ah, the things we do for art. ...

Until today, Tamika’s tit was the oddest project I’d approved. It was a collage of all sorts of tits called appropriately enough ‘The Breast.’ There were photos, tits made of paper mache, furry tits, it was both photographic and tactile - which brings me to the odd part. She wanted a live tit included. So she mounted a box in the wall with a hole in the top and for exhibit weekend she lay on a shelf behind the wall with her tit dangling. Did I mention the tactile part? So why was she surprised when she found herself being groped repeatedly? Ah, the things we do for art. ...

The clock chimed ten. Jolene placed the last of the presents beneath the tree. She slipped the disc into the player and a flaming yule log flashed onto the TV screen. One last thing to do and all would be ready. She padded out into the kitchen and returned with the gingerbread man and glass of milk, set them on the end table. She killed the house lights. The tree lights twinkled, the fire blazed. Perfect, she smiled. Well, almost. ...

Rebecca sat, leaning against the cold, concrete wall, naked, an iron ring on her wrist, scabby, red rivulets of blood running down her breast. Daniel’s coming! She couldn’t tell is he was hungry or not. Having a ready meal, he was seldom hungry. But she could usually tell if he was. Same way she could tell when he was around. She wasn’t a vampire, had no craving for blood. But since he’d fed on her all these days? weeks?, she’d developed a sense of these things. Perhaps it was backwash. A little bit of him in her. ...

Part 1: Deerefield House “You’re wanted at the house. Get your things. Anthony will drive you.” “Yes, ma’am.” Linda fled down the hall, up the stairs. In her room she swapped her work clothes (something resembling a kinky milk maid) for a blue dress and white sandals. Her things were in a small, carry-on suitcase. It had sat, unopened, in the closet for almost a year. A year since William had abandoned her. A year since she’d worn the yellow dress and served at Deerefield House. ...

(story continues from Bitgirl Part 1: Deerefield House) Part 2: Bitgirl No Hooves In The House! Bitgirl chuckled, a soft, breathy sound. He followed her eyes to the sign, smiled, reached over and took her hand, squeezed it. The Bookside Inn was in fact an equestrian center. There was a large barn behind the inn, a paddock, an enclosure for jumping practice and dressage. But for a month each year the equines left and the ponygirls took up residence. The double entendre tickled her. Some horse owners loved their horses, some a bit too much. As for the ponygirls … ...

(story continues from Bitgirl Part 2: Bitgirl) Part 3: The Race Bitgirl followed Evans back to the patio. Angela had toweled her off and they would both have to oil her pretty tack, but it felt good to run. Evans had decided to show her off, throw the gauntlet down, as it were, give Celeste something to think about. Give Dee something to think about more the better. They were standing in a group, the center of attention. The song “You’re so vain” ran through Bitgirl’s head. ...

“Oops!” Connie said holding up the pair of emerald green panties. “Somebody lost something. How does that happen? How do you lose socks and find other people stuff in your wash?” She grinned and tossed the panties on the shelf. “Uh, those are mine.” Connie blinked at him. “Yours?” “Mm.” “Yours as in you have a thing for women’s panties? Sneak through back yards, pulling them off clotheslines?” “No. No, I wear them.” ...

(story continues from Dale - Work in progress) Dale V2.0 Dale fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other. He had to pee, but didn’t dare. Dressed as he was he’d have to use the women’s room and he had an irrational fear that when they checked his ID and saw he was male, well, there’d be trouble. Last thing he wanted was a strip search by another guy. As if reading his mind Connie said, “What’s the matter?” ...

Liz woke with a start. The car had stopped. At first she was disoriented. This wasn’t the airport. She’d assumed they would be flying home, but they were in a hotel parking lot. Truth was, maybe a night in a “normal” hotel wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Kink In The Caribbean had turned into one long BDSM party. Too much bondage, too much booze, too much sun. She felt totally drained. Then it dawned on her that if they weren’t going to the airport she’d have to wear her chastity belt one more day. On the trip down, Dan had ordered her into the bathroom the minute they cleared security and she had worn the belt since - seven days and counting. ...

(story continues from Dollers and Sense) Part 2: Sally’s Pony “Sally.” “Sally? Why Sally, Master?” “Why not.” “Yes, Master.” Liz popped a bit of cheese into her mouth and took a sip of wine. She was kneeling, naked, at Dan’s feet nibbling off an hors d’ouvre tray on the coffee table. She had gotten back to the suite about an hour ago after walking the corridors, naked, in just her doll skin and mask - cum splattered doll skin and mask. She was miserable. No. Now that Dan had named her it was Sally who was miserable. ...

(story continues from Jane’s Story: The Fishbowl)_ Part 2: The Birthday Party Jane dozed the morning away. Every once in a while she’d get fidgety. She hadn’t drunk much at the party, but enough to mess up her sleep. That and the fact she was naked and locked in a giant fishbowl. She had lost the dart game and had agreed to spend the week with him, with Geoffrey. Jane slapped her hand on the glass. ...

(story continues from Jane’s Story 2: The Birthday Party)_ Part 3: Quality Time When he pulled out of her, Geoffrey produced a towel from behind a pillow. He wiped himself, then pressed it between Jane’s legs. Cuffed as she was she couldn’t wipe herself, but she squeezed her thighs together, appreciated the consideration. He tucked himself in, adjust his shirt and pants. He sat her up, settled himself on the couch, drew her back against him. He reached for her glass. The drink was mostly water, melted ice, and it felt good going down. He sipped his drink. He didn’t talk, just held her, gazed at the flickering tongues of flame. The moment went on for a deliciously long time. ...

(story continues from Jane’s Story 3: Quality Time)_ Part 4: At The Club Jane knelt between the girl’s legs. Cindy had a handful of her long, blonde hair, pressed her face to the girl’s pussy. The girl was tied to the couch, legs spread, ankles roped to the legs. There were ropes above and below her breasts. They had been cinched together making the girl’s breasts bulge. There were chrome-steel clamps on her nipples that jiggled as the girl squirmed. She was gagged with a large, red ball and wore a black blindfold. ...

(story continues from Jane’s Story 4: At The Club)_ Part 5: Weird and Wonderful The weird … Jane wiped the stove. It didn’t need wiping, but Cindy told her to wipe it. That was after she told Jane to strip and put on pantyhose, clipped heavy chrome-steel clamps to her nipples (those were going to be a bitch coming off), pushed a ridiculously large ball gag into her mouth, and locked a pair of leather cuffs on her wrists. Naked she could understand, but pantyhose? ...

(story continues from Jane’s Story 5: Weird and Wonderful)_ Part 6: Epilogue He handed down a bit of fruit, Jane slurped the cool, sweet morsel, licked his fingers, drew them into her mouth. He looked down at her and smiled. She whimpered. If she’d had a tail she would have wagged. “Surprised to see you here,” Jane said hugging her friend. “Yeah, well, Cindy’s gonna come down in a couple of weeks, do the whole Florida thing, Disney, Sea World, the keys, you know.” ...

(story continues from Jane’s Story 6: Epilogue)_ Part 7: Transition They were sitting in the airport lounge. Jane was going to Florida, Geoffrey would swing through the Carolinas, get some face to face time with clients before joining her in a few weeks. “Uh, Sir?” She didn’t have to call him sir, she wasn’t on a leash, but sometimes it slipped out. “Hm?” “When I spent the day with Cindy, well, we, uh, did things.” ...

(story continues from Jane’s Story 7: Transition)_ Part 8: The Wedding Day Jane stepped out of the shower, picked up the dryer, and gazed into the mirror. A stranger gazed back. After all this time she couldn’t get used to having short, dark hair. True, her natural color was dark, but she’d been blonde for just about ever and her hair had been long, long enough to almost reach her ass. Now it was dark, nearly black, and short. It hung gently on her shoulders, the tip barely reached her shoulder blades. ...

(story continues from Jane’s Story 8: The Wedding Day)_ Part 9: The Boat Ride Jane ran her fingers through her dark hair, stared at her reflection in the mirror. It had been quite a day yesterday, but it was a good morning, a normal morning. She slept chained to the bed, cuddled against Geoffrey. Just after dawn she had slipped under the covers to wake him with her mouth as she did every day. It was all so normal … and yet not. ...

Here’s my spring break series. Long story short, I got a fan letter from Jane, she’s a lifestyle sub (registered and everything), we started a correspondence, so I wrote this series of stories for her. Enjoy Jo. Part 1: The Fishbowl Jane surfaced again, her world coming more into focus. She was in a strange bed. It was soft, kind of like a futon pad, pillow soft. Speaking of pillow, there wasn’t one. She raised her head, opened one eye. Nope. No pillow. No bedding, either. And she was naked. ...

“I, uh, have kind of an odd request.” “Oh?” “Yeah. I, uh, I’m going on holiday in a few weeks and …” “And you want to get a start on your tan.” “Yeah. But I, uh, it has to do with tan lines …” “No problem. Many of my clients tan in the nude.” “No. No, it’s not that. Well, it is, kind of.” She chases an errant hair from her forehead. ...

(story continues from Tan Lines) Part 2 The white Nissan pulls up to the curb. I glance at the clock. Right on time. Ginny steps through the door. “Good morning, Ginny.” “Hey.” That’s the extent of our conversation. I’ve tried to get her to talk, but it became quickly apparent she wasn’t a talker. Usually I have the opposite problem with my female clients. Can’t get them to shut up. Oh well. This is her sixth session and the tan lines are starting to show so she’s wearing a long sleeve blouse. It’s one of those generic Oxfords. Might be her boyfriend’s shirt. Hard to tell. ...

(story continues from Tan Lines 2) Part 3 9 a.m. Ginny pushes through the door. “Good morning, Ginny.” “Hey.” I flip the OPEN sign over and Ginny follows me down the hall. It starts the same as it has every session for the last month. She strips slowly, very slowly, turns, closes her eyes, raises her hands behind her neck, and opens her legs. I rub her down with the exfoliating cream, wipe her dry, then lotion her, top to bottom, front and back, even the places where the sun don’t shine. ...

“I don’t know.” “Yasmine, I need the money.” “But porn?” “I like to think of it as portraiture.” “Uh huh.” “With ropes.” “Oh, Christ.” “He’s very nice.” “Meaning?” “Meaning he’s very nice. Kind of fatherly.” “Kind of like an old pervert.” “No! He’s not.” “Uh huh. So when are you going to do this.” “In about 30 minutes.” “Today?!” “Well, yeah.” “Where?” “At his place.” “I’m coming with you.” “Oh?” ...

The Tales of Sir Dwayne - Kidnap! Lady Birgit, bound to the tree, blindfolded with rough cloth, listened to the muffled squeals of her handmaid and the sound of receding hooves. It was quiet for a long time. She tugged at her bonds to no effect. Then there was a sound - a horse approaching. The sounds of a rider dismounting, walking toward her. She held her breath, too frightened to speak. Had they come back for her? ...

(story continues from The Tales of Sir Dwayne) The Tales of Sir Dwayne - The Lark Dwayne, startled, felt the nick of a blade at his throat. He froze. “What say you that we should relieve you of the whore?” “What say you that I should relieve you of your balls!” Sir Dwayne snarled. That brought a surprised look, then both men burst out laughing. “And how will you accomplish this feat, good knight, with no sword? Will you chew them off?” ...

(story continues from The Tales of Sir Dwayne 2: The Lark) The Tales of Sir Dwayne - 3: The Offer She offered an honor. He honored her offer. And it is was on her and off her all night! Dwayne smiled at the thought. The whore, nee Lady Brigit, trailed along behind, half stumbling, her tattered dress dirtier. It had been a long day; a long, dusty walk. She’d stop a moment, only to be pulled along by her bound wrists. A long, dusty, boring day. And he was in need. He had had no release the prior night. Having the whore had put him into a mind where release was a given. ...

There were things in the oven staying warm and things in the fridge staying cool, the wine was open, nothing left to do but take her shower. Clean and dry Mandy gazed in the mirror as she did her makeup. She still couldn’t get used to her new self. It was such a small change, really. They’d fixed her nose. She’d broken it when she was twelve and it had had a small bend to the right. She had new boobs. Smaller, but only relatively. She was still a C cup, but they were firmer, jouncy, not saggy. The hair was the thing she couldn’t seem to get used to. She had been a natural blonde all her life. Along with the boobs and nose, Master had decided she needed to be a redhead. It fell in ringlets, framing her face. She looked like a caricature of herself. ...