Your erotic stories

I stand and watch her walk toward me. Her fingers are cool and dry as she places the collar around my neck, nimble as they buckle it in the back, the leather touching my skin all the way around, not tight, only touching. I feel her breath stir my hair. A snort of laughter escapes me and I stifle it quickly. She pauses, her hands still on the buckle, and leans around to look at my face. "Yes?" she inquires, lifting an eyebrow, that same slight half-smile barely curving her perfect dark lipsticked lips.

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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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I wish I were able to do this for You today. Hopefully this will give You some relief. I recited my ritual per Your command and so enjoyed the orgasm You allowed. Thank You, Master, so very deeply. This is fairly unedited, so if something isn't communicated properly, please let me know?

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"Babe...let's get going in like five minutes..." the statement ended with a sigh as Master leaned into my bathroom. I turned and flashed him a sly smile, mascara still in hand. "Maybe like ten?" I bit my lower lip and blinked rapidly a few times, "Sir?" the last word was a sultry whisper and I saw it unravel him just slightly.

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The light mannered laughter echoed around the empty area, the only other sound being the occasional car coming along the road adjacent to the train tracks. "You know you practically fall over every time you go up those stairs." The amusement was abundantly clear in Cale's voice as he grabbed Nicole under the arm, practically dragging her onto the platform.

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Part of me hates this man, whom I'll call "X" for now. We didn't get along as a couple, which is why we broke up in the first place. I didn't even hate him when we broke up- it was very amicable, the old ‘we're just in very different places right now,' blah blah blah… but very soon after the split, I found myself fantasizing, over and over again, about the sex we used to have. It became totally consuming, to the point that I finally found myself breaking down and calling him on the phone one day.

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I hadn't been home in nearly three weeks and it felt good to be alone in my beach house finally, as I lazily began to strip off my clothes and make my way to the staircase that led to my bedroom. Past all the unopened mail that lay scattered across my pool table without a second glance at it, I flung my clothes haphazardly as I peeled them off sending my grey tee across the leather chair in the corner and my bra somewhere behind me as I reached the staircase.

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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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I walk into your darkened room, everyone but you is gone or at work. You don't hear me as I get closer to you. Your stretched out across your bed stroking your cock, watching a big breasted woman sucking dick on the T.V. Silently I move through the dark side of your room until I'm just behind your bed, watching you gently squeeze your balls and continue to jerk off that magnificent prick.

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"Hello. I'm Mr. Devereux to see Ms. Hill," I said to the receptionist. My voice was clear and authoritative, but not overly aggressive. I was standing in front of her desk, which had the usual assortment of secretarial accoutrements; a large phone, pens, paper, rolodex and computer, which she was busily typing away at.

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