Your erotic stories

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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It had been a week since I met him in the club, since I had gone home with him not even knowing his full name and totally given myself to him. It had been two weeks of having my senses tormented, my body trained and my needs fulfilled.

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"That's my good girl," You praise me as you stroke my hair and pull it away from my neck and face. I am kneeling naked at your feet and you are fully clothed. You fasten the buckle on the collar you bought for me. The lining is soft, but the hard, strong intent to control me is inherent in the leather and silver buckled design. I look into your eyes with complete trust as you test the ring at the front of the collar, onto which you will fasten a leash.

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The dictionary defines Valentine- a sweetheart chosen or complimented on Valentine's Day. I'm not sentimental or for that matter sensitive. At least, that is what I've often been told. You are so closed off! Unreachable! I disagree. I happen to have had a perfectly good reason for keeping my heart locked up. The problem, in my opinion, was with the people who never tried to slip by the barriers.

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When you finally push back your chair and stand, approaching me, my fingers wiggle slightly to try to gain back some feeling. My relief when you unshackle me from the doorway is completely short-lived. You hand me your empty coffee cup, then brush past me with nothing more than a slap on the ass and a smirk. My face is hot with anger and disbelief as I wait for the numbness in my hands and feet to wear off, then hobble to refill your fucking coffee.

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He was too handsome for his own good. I'd long since recognized that it might very well lead to the end of us. My sore whipping arm was longing for an overweight sub with the face of a pug. Good thing for Precious, the rest of me was not. Eyeing the furtive glances of the young girl, I immediately knew she wasn't his type. She was submissive, for one thing. It leaked from every pore of her overly exposed skin.

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When I woke up, I panicked, almost choked on the collar around my throat. The leather dug into my windpipe as I jerked on the cold cement floor, hurting my shoulders and arms. My hands were cuffed behind my back, my naked body pressed to the floor sideways, as my legs, which were free, kicked wildly in a desperate attempt to get loose. I let out a feral scream, almost choking again on the thick leather around my neck.

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It was a hot night in Rochester but I shivered all the same. There were no cars in the driveway on a sprawling cream colored new-money manse the bordered the Clearey Woods, so I pulled up the parking brake and on battered gray Camry. The thick pine and birch that skirted the side and back of the property kept drawing my eye. If I wasn't very careful, I could die tonight. But if I'd refused, I'd be dead for certain.

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Falling flat on my face was not the greatest way to start off the evening but there you have it. I was unpacking taped cardboard boxes in my newly rented apartment. Such a hassle. "How's it going?" Someone had stepped inside. I forgot I had left the front door open. He was a very big man, somewhere around 6'2 wearing all leather. Quite intimidating actually but he was smiling and seemed friendly.

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He was waiting for me when I came home from work that Friday. As I stepped through the door and saw the leather collar in his hands, my heart began to pound. Dropping my bag to the ground, I immediately went to my knees, casting my gaze down demurely. My hands trembled with excitement as I took the collar from him and fastened it snugly around my neck.

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