You stand before me, hands behind your back, awaiting instruction attentively. I gesture in a way you understand. You unhook your bra, slide off your panties and hand them to me. I inhale the warm undergarments, kiss them, then set them aside.
I step closer, grip you firmly by your upper arms and lower my head onto your throat, just under your collar.
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It's been one day since you touched me.
You came home from work today, ate a quick dinner and went immediately to your study, shutting the door behind you. Several hours later, my tentative knock is met with, "Go to bed, pet." I hoped that you would wake me when you came to bed, but you did not and the next morning, you left without awakening me.
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Matt sat on the edge of the bed looking down at the steel tube which encased his cock. He'd waited so long for this moment, but still he was tremendously nervous. As he looked down he caught sight of his face, reflected in the highly polished surface of the chastity device. Could he really go through with this? He steeled himself and pushed the small padlock through the locking holes and snapped it shut.
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Wendy had spent the morning crying. It was how she had spent every morning of the past two years. It looked to be how she would spend every morning for the rest of her life.
The physical suffering was no longer significant. He had said she would adapt, and she had. But the humiliation had never diminished. Rather, it had increased until she could barely think about the continuation of her life.
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She walked the length of the terminal and looked at her watch and then at the arrival/departure display as if it would change anything. As if this futile pacing would make his plane get here any faster, faster or slower, she did not exactly know. And now that she had done it, finally consented to meet him, pushing aside all her misgivings and doubts, she was consumed with a bewildering mix of impatience and uncertainty.
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Richard Secourt watched his television screen raptly, half in awe and half in amusement. Bouncing across the screen was an amazingly awesome blonde beauty with the biggest set of tits he had ever seen. She was wearing a one piece red swimsuit and running down the beach, and those immense jugs bounced up, down, and sideways. How she avoided putting an eye out was beyond him.
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She was just kneeling on the bed, her eyes obscured by the cloth I'd tied there. I could tell she was nervous, she said she wanted to try something different and kinky; something more exciting. In recent months our love-making had become a little monotonous, we both thought it but she was the first to say it.
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As a psychologist in California, Amber had many contacts with people in show business. Tonight this brought her to a going away party at client's house. The party was being thrown for the cast and crew of a little know show that was launching on a worldwide tour. Elizabeth was a friend of her client, and as near as Amber could professionally guarantee, also the cause of her client's problems.
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After twenty plus years of marriage to my high school sweetheart, our marriage had become as dull as yesterday's news, maybe last month's news. And that's probably an understatement. We both had become so complacent in our marriage to each other, that we both were clearly unhappy with our lives.
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The name's Jack Wayne. I'm a private detective. It all began on a sweltering Friday in June. I was sitting behind my desk thumbing through a paperback of "9 & 1/2 Weeks" and sipping a glass of bourbon when my secretary stuck her head into the office.
"Hey, Jack." she said in an annoying tone. "Jack, put the book down for a minute!"
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