Your erotic stories

This is a follow-up story to my weekend in Chicago with my husband Steve. He is now my little panty boy and I love the fact that I now have a way to control his sexual arousal. The first week that we returned home from his meeting I had Steve wear new his panties to work under his business suits and because of our shopping trip, he had enough girly panties to get him through the week without having to do laundry.

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I received my invitation from you in the post. I knew it was from you as I recognised your handwriting. It merely gave an address, a date and a dress code. It gave me a few days to prepare. After much anticipation the night finally arrived. I put on what the instructions told me: high heels, black stockings, a tight black skirt with a white blouse and black bra with a long overcoat on top.

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Michael flew into the small northern town for a two-day conference. A hotel, a travel budget, and a new place to explore, even a small town, was enough distraction to ensure he wouldn't be bored even if Laura hadn't decided to take charge of his evening hours. Laura met him at the conference on the first day. She was attending as a representative of a local company.

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Goodness knows why I have this fetish, but I do have it, so I have to live with it. What is it? Well it's the desire to eat shit. It must be from a dominant female mistress and maybe it's more to do with being totally submissive than it is to do with the actual eating. I think this desire has been with me for a very long time and now I would like to tell you, how I turned desire into reality. I thought it wasn't possible to realise my desire until whilst browsing through a contact magazine I saw a mistress advertising Hard Sports.

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I came home from the office and Chrissy greeted me at the door with her usual sweet kiss. "Joey, honey, guess who called today….it was Janie. She wants to come for a visit. I told her that it would be OK and she will be here tomorrow afternoon." Janie, Chrissy's twin sister, had finished graduate school in May but had still not found a job.

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Her sharp intake of breath almost stopped my heart for a second, when the scalpel bit into her smooth pale skin. The skin parted easily to that sharp thin blade, and the vein just beneath the collarbone and above the firm breast and hard nipple opened forth from the same incision.

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I first saw the ad on the internet. The website was a listing of Dominant Women on the West Coast. Since I live in Los Angeles, I was checking out the pictures and information on local dominants. The one that caught my attention was unique. Madame Darcy was based in Paris. Her ad stated that she traveled to Los Angeles frequently and had family here.

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You and I had been friends for quiet some time, sharing a common bond in subversive, dumb comedies, quirky cartoons and a general agreement that laughing a lot is the best way to spend out your life to zero in this world. We met through our jobs awhile back; your flashing eyes and warm smile put me at easy the very first day. Finding out that we had so much in common had been a bonus and so it became very easy for us to fall into a comfortable friendship.

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In April last year, I was booked into the Old Bridge Hotel, Huntingdon. It was a business trip. Two days; three nights, visiting four companies in the north of Cambridgeshire. It was a nice country hotel, just off the A14 and the main street of the town, near the Godmanchester Bridge, with a U-shaped arrangement of rooms.

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Another beautiful night in heaven, as would be expected. The dark blue sky rolled on for what seemed like eternity, the stars shining brightly down onto the soft clouds below. It was perfect. Just like last night. And the night before that, and the one before that, and every other single night, in fact. To most, it would be ideal, the paradise it should be; but not to all.

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