It was one of those warmer than usual nights of early spring when the new guy came into town. He only planned on staying a week or two in the small town, make some money, and move on. Since it was only Thursday and hustlers make most of their money on Friday and Saturday’s, he decided to get a room at the local Motel. When checking in at the office he found a pleasant surprise in the fact that it was a young man at the counter. (Lately it seemed all the clerks, at all the motels, in all the towns, on all the night shifts were little old ladies who had trouble seeing through their glasses, and this was a pleasant change.) ...

Jen Wright was one of the prettiest girls around. She was damn hot. Blue eyes, blonde hair, tall, athletic, muscular. Everyone wanted to date her. Tony was staring at her ass as she walked away. Her buttocks moved against each other with a grace, rhythm and beauty that can only be seen when looking at such an attractive woman when she is walking. She filled out those jeans perfectly. Jen must have felt his eyes upon her because she turned around and caught Tony staring. He felt the blood rush to his head and turned even redder when she started walking towards him with a smile on her lips. ...

It was not possible for me to email Ian, and thank for the inspiration from the nice story Oysters for Dinner, and introduce a sequel to it, so I here it is. Oyster dinner 2 Greg didn´t feel good about missing Mrs Wrights party, it was his first, even if he had been talking a lot of times with her, trying to get closer to her daughter Jen, but always ending up with chatting with Mrs Wright feeling somewhat cosy in her company, watching her lips as she spoke, soft calm words, her lips were kind of mesmerizing as she spoke, and he caught himself thinking what it would be like to kiss her soft sweet lips, maybe even french kiss her? ...

“Jessie, ten minutes.” Jessica Walters sighed, dropping the towel that was her only covering. Looking into the mirror, she admired her large breasts, flat stomach, toned legs. Her face was a study in beautiful innocence, dominated by large blue eyes, all framed by flowing auburn hair. With another sigh, she turned away to get ready. Jessica had come to Hollywood two years earlier, hoping to become a star. In a way, she had. Billed as Jessie Jane, she’d quickly risen to the top of her specialty. ...

Lisa sighed as she rinsed yet another dish. When would she ever learn? she asked herself. With three failures to her credit, you’d think she’d have given up. But no, here she was for number four. Some time back, Lisa had taken a long look at herself. Her desire to please others, the warm feeling she got when she knew she’d made someone happy. These things, and others, had convinced her, after some judicious web surfing, that she was submissive. With that in mind, she’d set out to find herself a Master. After all, what good is a sub without a Master to serve? ...

Preface This story is extracted from the manuscript autobiography of a woman who called herself C. A previous extract, called “Three Roles With Jim”, is posted elsewhere. You do not need to read that story in order to appreciate this one. The chapter in the book in which this story appears was titled “Avonbridge Mall” but I have taken the liberty of giving this story a catchier title. C was vague about timing, but I think this story probably took place two or three years after her experience with Jim when she was in her late 20s or very early 30s. The only thing you need to know is that C regarded her mind as being inhabited by two or three independent entities. The one she refers to as S was subconscious and was sensual and somewhat sadistic. The entity E was a conscious one and was emotional and erotic. C herself was quite rational, but was strongly influenced by the other entities. ...

I picked up an old wooden police night stick at a yard sale. I know it is an older model simply because it is made of hardwood (new police nightsticks are made of fiberglass). It is a little more than 4 centimeters in diameter and when I got it home I sawed it off to about 25 centimeters long. I sanded down the rough edges and shined up the beautiful black color, and immediately the nightstick and I became very good friends. ...

I heard my husband Ron come home from his trip to the strip bar. I had sent him there alone as a birthday present. I knew it was him because he was whistling a happy song as he came in and walked up behind me while I prepared some potatoes over the sink. I felt him press his chest into my back and I could feel his raging hardon pressing into my lower back. As my husband reached around my neck I could feel something silky soft being placed on me as a “snap” sound resounded from the clasp of whatever he had just placed on me. “Honey your dream has come true. Remember that guy I told you about that does magic tricks on stage with the strippers? Well I got to talking to him and I told him about your secret desire to be a sex slave, and the difficulty you have role-playing as one. I told him how you want to be out of control and to be made to do anything you are instructed to do without thinking twice. Well for $20 he gave me this silk necklace that I just put on you, and it’s magical!” ...

She brought up a mirror for me to see my new body. “Look at the new you,” she said and as I looked my heart sank. I couldn’t believe my eyes, my dream come true. Of course I should probably tell you the story of how I got here first. As a child I’ve always wondered if I was born with the wrong body and mind, as if they didn’t match. I had been a cross dresser for most of my life, but I never had the money to get the surgeries done. Then late one night I was messing around on the web and was looking at some transgender websites when I came across this one page that would change my life forever. It advertised that they could change you to a new person and for cheap too. ...

Jack was what one might call a peeping Tom. He was more sophisticated than your average voyeur, he would sneak into places he no man had been able to before. Locker rooms, health spas, saunas, and other places only women could go. Jack was an excellent transvestite. He could go to the swimming pool in a sundress, enter the women’s changing room, change clothes (in the privacy of a dressing room), come out in a bathing suit, swim, sunbathe, etc. and none would be the wiser. ...

I am a doll, I know this. I have an Owner, and I am his. Doll has an Owner. Owner made the doll, and doll is happy. Owner kisses the doll, and doll is happy. Owner hits the doll, and this is also a kiss, and doll is happy. I know this too, I was once not a doll. I had a name like Owner and Owner’s friends. I do not remember these things, but Owner says they are true, so I know these are true. I remember some things. I remember being small and there being someone big and there being pain somewhere that now only ever feels good. I remember remembering these things and I remember they hurt. But know they do not. Pain was not good. I know this. When I am hit, or opened by Owner, there is no pain, only love. I am a doll, and I shall give you a kiss.. ...

You should not read this story under legal age. You should not read this story should story codes be incompatible with your tastes. Part One Thomas stopped his car in front of the building door. He tapped Julie’s number on his car phone keyboard. “Julie speaking.” “Hi, it’s Thomas, I’m just in front of your door. I’m in the grey car.” “You’re on time, mister. I’m ready. I’ll be right out.” ...

continued from part seven Chapter 8: Work and Punishment. She pointed to a large copper heating cylinder and a large round copper plate with an electric motor mounted on it and also a pair of electric pumps. “What you have to do is remove the top from the cylinder and weld the round plate on to the cylinder making sure it is watertight. Then following the sheet of instructions on the bench you connect the pipes from the pump to the cylinder and complete the wiring up of the pumps, agitator motor and the float switches. When you have finished call me on the phone extension and I will show you where it has to go. This should be quite a simple job for you to do and when it is eventually completed and installed it will provide your Mistress with a very effective means of punishing a wayward prisoner and seemingly endless hours of humiliation for you.” ...

A long time ago, back when I was a teenager, I started experimenting with bondage. Not that I knew what it was at the time, back then there was no internet to bring us together, and the small town I grew up in was part of America’s heartland. Still, the fascination of being tied up still took hold, and was fueled by the easy access I had to that most common of bondage devices, handcuffs. My Dad was a cop, still is as a matter of fact, and I used to sneak his spare set of handcuffs away and use them on myself, imagining all kinds of bondage adventures. ...

I was reading on my front porch when I heard the letter carrier’s old car stop at my mailbox. I looked up from my book and felt a surge of hope. Maybe a letter from Bob had arrived at last! I hadn’t heard from him for so long! The only things about the city I really miss out here on the farm are the Internet and e-mail. I ran down the long gravel driveway to the mailbox and eagerly opened it. Yes! there was a letter, and it was from him! I tore open the envelope, extracted the single page of lined notebook paper, and read the hand-written words. ...

NOTE: The author wishes to point out that, while being hanged is an erotic fantasy to many, it should never, NEVER be attempted for real! The human neck is too fragile to play at death. The story is presented here as a fantasy story and in no way should the scenes contained be attempted in real life. “You’re a crazy lady, you know that?” he asked. “Yes,” she said, suggestively. “So– what are you going to do about it?” ...

LilBoundGirl: I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it. My parents went up the wall about me trying to leave and they took my car keys away. BossTucker: … LilBoundGirl: I REALLY wanted to meet up with you. BossTucker: Did you really? LilBoundGirl: YES! BossTucker: I don’t know. Personally it sounds like a load of shit there. LilBoundGirl: What?! BossTucker: I think you got cold feet and chickened out. LilBoundGirl: I did NOT! I’m telling you I wanted to meet up with you. BossTucker: Prove it. LilBoundGirl: … LilBoundGirl: How? BossTucker: Tell me where you live. LilBoundGirl: I can’t. You know I live at home with my folks. I only turned 18 last month. BossTucker: Then I think you’re chicken. LilBoundGirl: … BossTucker: I’m signing off. There’s another girl online who deserves my attention. LilBoundGirl: No! Wait. BossTucker: Yes? LilBoundGirl: … BossTucker: You had something you wanted to say? LilBoundGirl: Fine. But you HAVE to keep it quiet. If my parents find you here they’ll go through the roof. BossTucker: Oh don’t you fret. If anyone has to worry about keeping quiet, it’s YOU. Send me the address. ...

Sarah was sitting in her apartment, surfing the web and reading a book. She wasn’t looking for much, just a friendly story site or picture trading club where she could sit and admire the strange new world of bondage she had discovered. She had crafted herself a new screen name on yahoo which she thought was clever, sarahpony2005. As she sat there surfing, a new PM popped up, from another yahoo member. The line was rather curious thought. ...

Sarah was sitting in her apartment, surfing the web and reading a book. She wasn’t looking for much, just a friendly story site or picture trading club where she could sit and admire the strange new world of bondage she had discovered. She had crafted herself a new screen name on yahoo which she thought was clever, sarahpony2005. As she sat there surfing, a new PM popped up, from another yahoo member. The line was rather curious thought. ...

You know, a woman’s body is very tender – especially between her legs, where the truth of her sex lies. You can do a lot of things to a woman’s body, and she’ll never complain. But touch her between her legs, and it sets the fire within her ablaze. I was in my third year of college when I met the Japanese man who was to become my Master. He was a nice looking man, and was pursuing his Master’s Degree in economics. A funny choice, as it turned out. The ‘Master’s Degree’ part, at least! ...