Your erotic stories

"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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Kathy stood for a moment, looking around her, all her senses alert. Her ears open to the crunch, crunch sound, maybe a hint of his manly smell, a glimpse of his black coat. She had been here for over an hour, time had dragged and now she was buzzing to see ' the man'. That's all she knew about him, a man who roamed the woods as eloquently as she did.

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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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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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My new tenant is such a joy to have around. Take right now, for instance. This is my day off and as I write this story he is under my desk curled up keeping my feet warm like a good housecat. Later, he'll help me get ready for my date. Then, if and when I make it back, he'll be waiting to take care of all my illicit desires.

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"You just don't get me, Marcus." The words pierced right through his seemingly frail exterior. This kind of fight had been all too familiar for the last few weeks of their relationship. Kim wanted him to give her more satisfaction in the bedroom but Marcus was too much of a worrywart and relaxed man to give her the kind of action she so desired.

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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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"We were lucky you know, Bunkum Boy," said Hoodoo Girl when they held their after fight review. "If Dr Dragoon hadn't made that one little slip we may not have been able to stop him this time." Bunkum Boy just laughed. "He always makes that one little mistake, though, Hoodoo Girl," he pointed out. He looked across at the picture of Dr Dragoon on the front of the report and laughed again.

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