Saturday, April 13, 2013

Friday Night Part Six by Anonymous



Friday Night  part six

She smoothed her hair as she glanced sideways at the boy.  Absorbed in his task, he didn't notice.  He bent over the silver silk shoe, carefully dabbing the sole and heel pad with a cloth soaked in matacide.  She never walked in these shoes. They were spotless. The soles gleamed. The gems encrusted in the silk sparkled under the bright light he'd focused on his work table.

She squinted at the dainty gold and diamond watch on her wrist.  Too vain to wear her glasses, the watch functioned as jewelry, rather than a useful time piece.

"What time is it, boy?"

"It's nearly seven o'clock, Padrona," he answered.

She smiled.  He used to call her "mistress", but recently she'd asked him to use the Spanish word instead.  He didn't roll the "r" the way her old servants did.  She'd have to remind him to improve his pronunciation.

Leaning back in her chair, she streched out her long legs.

"Are these stockings too greyish?" she wondered.  She asked the boy's opinion.

"It wont' be this bright in the dungeon.  I think they'll match to the shoes, when we're there."

"When we're there..."

Her voice drifted off.  She wiggled her toes and moved her foot to his thigh, inching up it to his crotch.

He felt her big toe poking him in the balls, gently, tickling him in the groin..  He tried to stay still, felt the blood rushing down.  Her feet were as supple, as dextrous as her hands. He should not be surprised by now, by her agility, but he was, every time.

He looked up from his work at her face.  She was still staring at her stockings. Her toe continued to move, though she didn't seem to be controlling it.  Like a blind worm, seeking to mate with his own blind worm.  Disconcerting.  He stiffened as the toe dug deep into his right ball.

"Are you nearly done with that?  We need to finish packing the bag; it's getting late."

"Yes, Padrona. Just done now."

He put the shoes in their matching silk bag, pulled the strings tight and set them inside the black leather bag on the table.

She nodded.  Her curly red hair swung around her shoulders as she stood up, looked for her coat and motioned the boy. He brought her street shoes, holding each one out for her to slip into.  He held up her coat, she slipped it on too.

They stood by the front door.

"Ready?" she said.
"Yes, Padrona"

He looked down at her street shoes and felt his balls aching. How much more they would they ache, when they returned?  The heels of her silver shoes would cut his groin, the weight of the spotless soles on his balls would be agony.  He smiled and opened the front door

John’s Long Journey into Night – Part Four by Doc Nolan


Synopsis of Part Two:  John, recently divorced, goes to his high school reunion, and meets an aggressively fascinating lady Lenore, who takes him home.  He discovers she is a domme when he meets her friend Mandy, also a domme.  He, like Mandy’s husband, is soon caged and told by the two women that he is now embarked on a new adventure: serving them!  Leonore promises to explain how Mandy’s husband became her caged pet.   Fast forward…

John woke up with a start – stretched his leg out – and then it hit him a bucket of cold water.  He was in a cage in Leonore’s house.  He was a five hour drive from his home.  His car was still parked someplace (he didn’t know where) with his travel bag inside it.  Leonore had driven him here and he didn’t even know where here was.  He was free-falling again.   The living room was quiet, and the rays of a morning sun were shining into the living room, but through a high window.  He could only see blue sky.
John turned to the adjacent cage, expecting to see Fred.   The cage was empty.  He was alone… no, he wasn’t.  He could hear the distant sound of a coffee grinder in the kitchen.  Someone was awake.  The clock ticked.  Gradually the smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafted into his nostrils.  He still waited.   And Leonore walked in, attired in a ratty old bathrobe.  She walked over to the sofa, sat down, curling her feet under her.  John noticed her feet and her fingers.  Long and thin.  He also paid attention to her petite ears, peeking out from her disheveled dark hair.  She gazed down at him, wordless.  He locked eyes with her, too.
Time stopped.
“Well, John, we have some things to talk about, don’t we,” she said.  She then glanced over at the cage.  “Don’t ask.  He and Mandy are gone.”  John felt something like loss.  That shocked him.  Leonore read his mind.  “No, not for good.  Mandy and he are out shopping; they’ll be back later”. She paused.  “The question really is, ‘Are you going to be here when they return this afternoon?’”  Leonore had a strange look in her eyes.  John was getting nervous.
“Miss,” he said, “last night you and Mandy were going to tell me about how Mandy and Fred met.  But….. “. Leonore laughed.  “You fell asleep, John.  Too bad…. You’ll just have to wonder for a while.” She grinned.  “Don’t look so disappointed.  You’ll eventually hear about it – if you’re still around.”
“Still around?,” he mindlessly repeated.  “What do you mean?”  Leonore sipped her hot coffee.  John realized he was cold. He involuntarily tried to rise – and felt the cold steel on his back.  The cage.  Of course.
Leonore laughed out loud.  “John, wasn’t last night was a lark, a fling, an experiment, an adventure?   You have a home and responsibilities to return to, right?  Besides, what good are you to me?”
John was paralyzed, not so much by her words (which rang true), but by his reaction.  He didn’t want to go back home.  He didn’t want to return to his rut and his responsibilities.  He was fucking sick of his home town and his memories and his stupidity and all the things that reminded him of his ex.   John was shocked that he felt good in this steel cage, and felt freer than he had in a long, long time.
Leonore was looking at him very intently.  He was afraid she could read his mind.
She spoke first.  “John, I have this feeling I can read your mind,” she said, without the glimmer of humor in her voice.  “I want you to tell me why I should even consider keeping you around even for a day.”  John felt a couple of tears rolling down his cheek.  His eyes were welling up.  He felt as if Leonore’s grip was extending from his body into his mind.  It felt good.  Very, very good.
“Leonore, my life is a fucked up mess.  I have no purpose or reason or focus in it.  Margaret is gone.  I have no pole star anymore.  I’m just a meaningless ‘thing’.  And I don’t want to go back.  I have no idea why, but the last hours have been….”  He struggled to find the word.  He could only come up with the word “meaningful!!!”   Leonore didn’t respond.  She simply held his gaze, sipped a bit more coffee, and then said, “You’re interesting, John. “
Then she added, “Later on I may let you have some coffee.  I made enough for two people.”
She paused again, “Last night I told you ‘The first thing tomorrow I’m going to ask you a question:  “Do you want to leave and never see me again, or do you want to stay here until I decide to dispose of you perhaps weeks and perhaps month from now?”
“I remember, Miss”, he said softly.
“And?”
“I don’t want to leave.”
She smiled softly.  “That is obvious…. But I’m glad you are brave enough to admit it to yourself and to me….. But John, it isn’t that easy.”  He frowned, puzzled.  “Let me explain.  You were not quite the ‘casual pickup’ you think you were.  After I tell you the background, you may hate me and storm out of here.  If so I’ll drive you back to your car and you can curse me all the way back to your empty shell of a house.”  She shifted her weight.  John noticed her robe had ridden up higher; she apparently hadn’t noticed.  He had.  Though his eyes were wandering, his attention had not.  He was focused.  “What is she talking about?” his brain screamed.  “What the hell is going on here?”
More silence.  More gazing.
“John, I’ve known your ex-wife Margaret for years.  We worked at the same firm years ago and kept in touch.  At one point we were lovers.  That ended years before you ever came on the scene.  Yes, John, I knew all about you, and her, and her new love (your boss), and your dismissal.”
John’s shock, dismay, anger, and horror overwhelmed him. “What!?!?!  You????” He grabbed the metal and began tearing at his cage.  He felt as if he’d been thrown from a plane, tossed into space in this fucking cage!
Leonore shrunk back a bit, though she’d expected this reaction.
“John, I had nothing to do with it.  Margaret was a bitch, is a bitch and always will be a bitch. I dumped her – thought she didn’t know it – because I realized what she is.  And you, John, were the next damned fool to be taken in by her.”  Leonore rose to her feet.  “John I brought you here because I felt sorry for you.”  She stopped.  “No, let me be honest.  I brought you here because of everything Margaret told me about you…”
John shouted, “I don’t want to hear!”  He meant it.
Leonore’s face now showed cold fury.  She took her cup of now lukewarm coffee, threw it in his face, and shouted, back – even louder – “Shut the fuck up, John.  Shut the fuck up.”. She was screaming.  She was out of control.
John didn’t understand what happened next.  He abruptly stopped being angry.  It was as if a light switch had gone off in his head.  He looked at the furious woman.  He only felt one thing.  Ashamed.
“I’m sorry, Leonore.  I just….”
She glared at him for a second, and then realized how intensely sincere he was.  It was written all over his face.  She sat down again.  It took several long seconds for her face to go from bright red to anything resembling normal.  Finally, having recovered, she spoke.  “John, I brought you here to test you.  I wanted to see what kind of person you are.  I wanted to see if your  ex-wife was describing you as you are.”
The man in the cage simply said in a flat voice: “Disappointed?”
She shot back, almost instantly, “No.  Not at all.”
She then said, “No commitments.  No promises.  No nothing John.  I don’t want to hear any bullshit.  My proposition to you is simple.”  She paused.
“Yes Miss?” he mumbled.
“You stay here for a while.  I continue to test you, use you, amuse myself with you – maybe loan out to Mandy if she gets the urge.  Whatever.  In short, John, I give you purpose and I use you and get to know you by using you. You do whatever I tell you to do.”
My simple question to you is this: “Yes, or no.  Interested or not?”
John looked at Leonore’s face, and the ratty bathrobe.  Her hair was unwashed.  She had no makeup on.
He simply said, “I’m interested.  I want to stay.”
She replied, “You’ve just passed your first test.  You are now my lab rat, John.”  She grinned.  “Oh, and from now on I’ll be calling you Fido.”  She turned and left the room.  John wondered when and if he’d get that cup of coffee she’d promised him.
 (to be continued)

Pearls by Lady Danika


Pearls
by Danika Stonesoul

~oOo~


It was just a string of pearls or so she told him... but he knew there was more to it than that as she laid there naked on the bed and gave him -that- look... yes that one... the one through the corner of her exotic slanted gray green eyes. "Just a strand of pearls," she said.

He swallowed thickly and felt his Adam's apple roll against the flesh of his throat as she tugged his head back to kiss his neck and the skin pulled taut. She could be Promethean when she wanted to be and he knew this.  "Just a strand of pearls, Mistress?"

She nodded.

He stood then from where he lay, slid off the bed to go to her nightstand.  The pearls were there, laid out, luminescent and slightly pink, folded against each other... each like a tiny hungry mouth on the strand. He lifted them and the strand was longer than he expected and it sifted against his rough calloused palms like silk as he brought them back to her.

She sat on the edge of the bed now, took them and held them out and motioned for him to turn around, circling her small right hand in the air like a tiny white bird and he did not dare to hesitate... for that would mean her displeasure. "Spread your legs and give me your hands."

He did so.

He did not struggle... even as he felt her use the pearls to wrap his wrists in a make shift binding.  But when she reached between his legs to take a hold of his testicles he flinched. "Hold still and lean back."  His hesitation earned him a sharp slap to the ass and she hissed through her teeth before he complied and she wrapped the other end of the pearls around his ball sack and turned him around, tied hand to balls, as it were.  When he faced her he was hard as rock and his face was flushed red with the heat of embarrassment.

"If you break my strand of pearls... you won't be allowed to cum for a month," she said simply. And he believed her.  With that, she leaned forward and pressed her warm lips to his abdomen, planting kisses along the trail of hair that led ever lower, a grin playing across her lips as he groaned and struggled to stay still with the fine pearls hanging in the balance as her small mouth came nearer and nearer its target...

The Strap On by Kevin


                                            THE STRAP-ON
When she has me on my knees, my hands behind my back, her large strap-on inches from my face, the smile on her face intoxicating….
Her voice telling me to open my mouth, the thoughts of what’s coming next feel my mind and body……..as she says, “Suck it slut”
Her voice penetrates me life a shape knife, I open wide, I can’t help myself, the control she has over me is so powerful, I open wide….Good Boy she says…...
What the fuck…. My cock tightens in it cage….
The pain of my cock straining in the cage reaffirms her power over me and my willingness to obey her…
Her moans fill the air as she guides her strap-on in and out of my mouth,  she pushes it to the back of my throat,  I try to relax, instead I gag hard on the strap-on, tears filling my eyes…
Her evil laughter pierces my ears, as she says “that’s it slut, gag on that cock!!
She pulls the strap-on from my mouth, telling me
 “Well, we will work on your Deep throat abilities later”,
Now bend over slut….
She says, " I hope you got it wet enough, otherwise this might hurt going in boy….
I feel the head of her strap-on pushing against my ass, my eyes close, my cock hardens even more in its cage…
That’s it slut, relax and take this cock, you know you want it……  Her voice again penetrating me,
I feel myself relax and in one firm push, she is balls deep in my ass, all 9 inches slide in with little effort…. She laughs and says…. Oh Kevin, that went in too easy…. Have you been doing this without me?
I struggle to find the words, until her hand slams down hard on my ass, “Answer me slut”
The pain from the smack brings me back to reality….
Yes Miss, I have used the toy by myself….  You little cock whore she says….. The tone in her voice assures me she is not happy with the answer I just gave...
She pulls the toy from my ass; disappointment feels my head, as she stands ….
She walks  across the room, I see her pick up the riding crop…..
                                                   The End………

Confession by Miss Vixie Part 1


She walks through my door and she's mine now.

She has agreed to all my conditions. She will serve me tonight in any way I desire, so long as I return her unharmed tomorrow. Not a problem, I'm quite sure.

"Get naked for me dear, I'll be right back."

I head into the bedroom and change into my fuscia lingerie. I make her wait a couple minutes, just to prolong the suspense.

She's a transgendered blonde, skinny and pretty, to my eyes, at least. I first met her online a week ago. Her name is Sue. Five foot nine, 160 lbs, with a nice ass.

"Very good dear, I see you're an obedient lass."

I motion her towards me and reach for the wrist cuffs on the table. I fasten them around her generous wrists. I lead her to my erstwhile weight bench, which for some reason never gets used for the normal purpose. I kneel her in front of it and stretch her prostrate along its length. I snick the cuffs closed behind her, double-locking them in case she's a fiddler of some kind.

"Comfy?" I ask. She nods. "Very good, dear."

I pull her head gently back by her hair, and kiss her deeply. I begin to warm her up with a few light spanks...

[ to be continued ]

A Night Out by Heather


That we were going out on a Thursday night, was no surprise. For the past few years, it had became a ritual between the two of us. After work we'd go home, change clothes, meet at the restaurant, forget about our worries and just enjoy our time. What was a surprise, was the text that came as I stood in front of my wardrobe. "Wear something.. not so tight." I looked at my phone a little puzzled, but happily obliged. Tight wasn't my thing anyway.

I got in my car and drove to the restaurant. When I got out of the car she stood by the door. She looked gorgeous as usual, though the dress was something new, usually she wore jeans and comfy sweaters, but she looked beautiful nonetheless.

We went inside and sat down, we talked over our days, when suddenly she said, "Are you nervous?" I laughed and told her no. She didn't smile back, which did make me nervous. "You didn't read my last text, did you?" I gulped, I had heard the message come in, but when driving I have a strict eyes-on-the-road policy. "Read your text, now."

I grabbed my phone and read the text. My eyes grew bigger. I had always known that she was a Domme. It was no big secret. I looked at her. "Are you serious?" I asked her. This time she did smile. "Do it." I hesitated for a moment. I wasn't submissive, or god forbid even a slave. Her text had a very clear instruction. Though my mind seemed to have a lot of issues with it, my body most definitely did have a reaction.

I muttered a "Please excuse me" as I stood up from my chair and walked towards the ladies room. As I sat down on the toilet seat, I looked at my text again. "When you get to the restaurant, go to the toilet, take off your panties, brings them to me." I read it over and over, until my phone went off again. "Hurry up! You shouldn't keep me waiting." I took off my pants, followed by my underwear, and as I put my pants back on, I was wondering what the hell I was doing.

I took a deep breath as I opened the door back into the restaurant. I was sure everyone could see I just went commando. I walked back to my chair and almost stumbled over my own feet as I sat back down. My face was flustered. "I eh.. I did what you asked." She laughed and muttered a "no shit sherlock!" All my confidence had apparently been flushed down the toilet, as I didn't know what to say.

"Give me your panties." I reached under the table to find her hand, when I saw her shake her head. "Above the table." I tried to shove the panties further into my fist. "Give it to me, with your hand open." I could feel all the eyes of everyone in that room staring at me, as I reached across my plate and handed her my panties. She withdrew her hand as I passed them over, resulting in my panties laying on the table for three whole seconds which felt like 5 minutes. She laughed. "Good girl."

The course of our evening had changed. I wasn't to speak unless asked a question. I did speak though, well I thought a lot of things. "What does this mean? Am I sub? Am I slave? What am I doing? Why am I doing this?" But I knew the answer. I wanted to please her. I wanted to hear her to say the words. I wanted her.

She snapped her fingers and a waiter appeared by her side. She gave him her credit card and told me to get up and get her coat. I did and a few moments later we walked out of the restaurant. "Get in my car." I didn't dare to speak. I got in her car and she drove to her house.
She didn't get out of the car, and I was scared to move. "There's a vibrator in the dashboard, get it." I gulped, but I could feel my body react. I got the vibrator out of the dashboard and held in my hand, wondering what she was gonna ask of me. I wouldn't have to wait long. "Now. Tell me. Do you want to stay in the car, or do you want to go back inside the house?"

End of part 1.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

Confession by Tarquin


I awoke in a neatly furnished, unfamiliar basement.  I found myself lying on a small, single bed, completely naked.  I raised my hands to feel a rough, studded leather collar around my neck, which was leashed by a light chain to the bedrail.  I was free to move around apart from this. It was long enough to access most of the room, but not the stairs.

I called out for help, but there was silence. I knew what had happened. I had met her online, we had got to know one another.  There had been flirting.  When we met, I was feeling stressed, fed up, and frustrated. She kept ordering drinks, and I kept putting them away, while she nursed hers gradually. She was encouraging, sympathetic.  She seemed all encompassing. I had already fallen for her before we had met.  But that night, I became lost in her.  I didn't realise the danger I was in.

She had got me to sign some forms, which I obediently did, signing myself legally into her possession. I would have no recourse to object or complain to whatever she might do to me.  I was so drunk by the time we drove to the tattoo parlour. As this recollection came to me, I checked to find her name, Charlotte, inscribed indelibly down my naked thigh in ornate, black letters: 'Charlotte's Whore'.  I tugged at my collar and pulled hard at the chain, but it was all firmly in place. She had left copies of my written submission on the desk, for me to examine. As I did this, I wondered what she had in store for me. Reading on, I could see that I had given myself up to be not only her submissive, but her slave.

She was a few years younger than me, but I felt naive and foolish around her.  She knew exactly how to play me.  When she came in for the first time, her simple summer dress showed off the mesmerizing curve of her breasts and legs, and the heels she wore could melt whatever resistence I tried to muster.
We did not speak at first, as I drank in her features and looked up into her dark eyes. She stood over me as I lay on the bed, naked and pathetically trying to cover myself.  I knew it was pointless objecting to any of this.  I wanted it and I didn't want it.  But I was going to get it.

She confirmed that I was now her slave, and began to explain my duties, the first of which was to 'fucking kneel' always in her presence.  This, I of course did.  I was to address her as 'Mistress', of course.  Since I would not be permitted to leave the house for some time, few other protocols were needed for now. I was for the time being to be known only as 'fucktoy', 'slut' or 'whore'.  She smiled as she saw my tattoo, and run her fingers across the words playfully.  I looked up at her as she touched me, and she slapped me hard across the face, crying 'No, slut!'. I was not to look her in the eyes without permission.

In those first few weeks, my main duties were to keep the house clean, cook and wash up.  I was not allowed to touch my Mistress, but if I did well she would reward me with a warm kiss on the cheek or pat on the behind. If I did not do well, the punishments were various.  Minor mistakes, such as being late to begin a chore or not completing it quickly or well enough would result in being chained spread-eagled to my bed and slapped severely or otherwise gently tortured.  If the misdemeanour was more serious, she would cuff my hands behind me and bind my feet. I would be given a severe spanking, and then left alone, still tied, usually butplugged and gagged. I would sometimes wonder how much of this I could take, but there wasn't really much possibility of changing anything. I could try to escape if I took some of her clothes and made a run for the car, perhaps, but I was terrified of being caught. Her punishments for serious mistakes were severe. She would tie me up tightly, take the biggest dildo she had and fuck me like her bitch, all the time calling me her whore and slapping my ass and cock.  If she got really mad, I wondered what she would do.

As I became more familiar with her preferences and likes, I was given more responsibility. I was allowed an apron so I could cook and clean more easily, though it would be taken away for punishments. I was allowed sometimes to dry her after bathing, though I could not touch her with my hands, and sometimes I was permitted to help her dress. Again, touching was minimal, but the part that gave me real pleasure was being allowed to place her shoes or boots on her feet. I tried to hide how much I loved this responsibility, but the more I performed this task, the more it aroused me physically.  She knew this was my main pleasure, and would indulge me or take it away as another means of control.  Over time, the threat of not being able to do this was more of a worry to me than being fucked hard and beaten.

I was never really permitted to converse much with her, but sometimes she did use me as her fucktoy.  I would usually be gagged and bound for this to ensure that I would not touch her or seek my own pleasure or fulfilment. Usually, she would fuck me with the dildo first to ensure that I was compliant and submissive. I would be allowed to pleasure her orally, and if she wished to, I would be placed on my back and she would ride me to her satisfaction. It was extremely difficult not to cum too early in these situations, and I knew that doing so would result in a beating and no privileges for quite some time. But she was often kind, and if I cried out through my gag that I was going to cum, she would slow down or let me have a break. When she was satisfied, if I had been good enough, she would finish me off with her hand. I was deeply grateful for this and the feeling of loyalty and obedience grew within me.

But slaves have no real rights. Though her ownership of me had become familiar and I was growing to adore my Mistress, she had other plans for her life. I think she was fond of me and felt I had done a good job, but she had to move away and could not keep a slave for the time being. My clothes were returned and I was sent back out into the world, lost and alone, searching for a new start. She kept the papers that proved her ownership of me.  I still have the tattoo.  She may have more use for me, but only time will tell.