Your erotic stories

I had been in your service for only a few months when you decided you wanted a permanent marking of some kind to denote me as yours when I was in the company of others. You considered your decision completely knowing full well the decision you made would effect me forever. That is the beauty of a master/slave relationship. It is more than a possession.

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After fifteen years of marriage, I had noticed a sudden decline in the frequency of sex with my wife, Lyn. This had happened over the three weeks or so. Until then, although we were conventional, it was satisfying for both of us – or so I thought. Now, it had become the usual story of “I’m so tired, I just want to go to sleep.”

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My life is very simple. Clients want someone dead, they pay me, I make the person dead. I would like to tell you I have a code of honor. I would like to tell you I don't kill women or children, but I am not a liar. I have killed women and would have no moral problem with killing a child. The subject has never come up.

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Annabella was just arriving back to school after her winter break. She'd been home visiting family in Arizona. She loved her family, and it had been nice seeing everyone together. Moving away for college had been a very difficult transition for her. Bella, as her friends called her, was a good girl -- honest, caring and considerate. Now that she was on her own, she found it unnerving taking control of her own life.

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She stands there completely nude, holding the wide black leather collar between her breasts. The buckle is a heavy gauge steel as is the large cold ring affixed to its front which dangles down toward her smooth shaved groin. Her eyes are closed and she can smell the leather mixed with her own scent from the last time she wore this collar several days earlier.

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Kaden walked in the door without a smile on his face. "Take that off," He ordered, pointing to my towel. I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard a knock at the door. He pulled the smaller towel from my hair and dropped it to the floor. The cool beads hit my warm back with the nearly twenty inches of thick, moist hair and rolled to my bottom.

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I've known Mary's parents for thirty years. That's a year before she was born. When she started to come on to me one night in the bar, I was startled to say the least. Startled but flattered since I'm close to twice her age. "Why don't you ever flirt with me?" Mary asked out of the blue. I thought a moment and then replied, "I've know you all of your life and I know your parents. I changed your diapers."

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Warning! This story includes very heavy BDSM, rough sex, anal fucking and other nasty stuff. As usual there is also a romance but it is secondary to the stroke. Another caveat: I don't write with a dictionary or a thesaurus at my side. I use words which are familiar to me---words I use in daily conversation. I am not writing stories for children. If you are the persistent anonymous poster who wishes I would use smaller words so that you can understand them, just give me a zero and move on without comment.

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Friday night. I am secured in a standing position, naked and spread eagled. My ankles are secured to a spreader bar, my hands to restraints attached to new hooks she has attached to the ceiling. My wife's mouth surrounds but does not touch my pulsating cock. I tighten my groin muscles to make contact. She pulls away. "Bad boy!" She reaches down for her riding crop and slaps mildly at my balls, stretched and separated by a leather cock ring.

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Malek pushed open the great oak doors to the main hall, as if they were made of paper, despite them being over twenty feet high and over five inches thick. Sofia glanced in the direction of the noise and saw him standing at the door. The blue moon cast a shadow of his silhouette, as the reverberations of the boom were sent to the very foundations of the mansion.

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