Your erotic stories

He obeyed so well. It was one of her favorite things about him. Her other favorite thing about him? The way he disobeyed. Tonight she'd push him to his limits and test his devotion. She had to. If he succeeded, she would collar him. She'd searched for weeks for his collar, the one that would fit him perfectly. One that fit them perfectly. It was black leather, dark, soft and supple.

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I first met Nicky at a pub we had both visited to watch a live band. The band rocked out and was on good form, but she caught my attention really quickly. Sitting on the other side of the room, she stood out straight away - she was the only one in the room with auburn hair, and I have a bit of a thing for red heads. Her hair was all the more striking by the way it contrasted with her pale white skin.

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She walked the length of the terminal and looked at her watch and then at the arrival/departure display as if it would change anything. As if this futile pacing would make his plane get here any faster, faster or slower, she did not exactly know. And now that she had done it, finally consented to meet him, pushing aside all her misgivings and doubts, she was consumed with a bewildering mix of impatience and uncertainty.

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Invocation: Blessed be Akana, she whose name is Beautiful Cruelty, Terrible Pleasure, Sublime Pain. Edriel was so thoroughly absorbed in the pornographic scroll that he didn't notice the high priestess until she planted her foot squarely in the middle of a particularly delectable picture. "Oh, Mistress Sekba!" He snapped his head up at her, blushing as he stared past the red linen loincloth and up to the firm, small breasts, bound perfunctorily with a strip of black silk.

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As Lorraine walked up the steps of the mansion for Andrew's one o'clock lesson, she could hear him butchering Beethoven's "Für Elise" in a way so awful it had to be intentional. Sure enough, the musical carnage soon ended in a burst of raucous laughter followed by the sound of several people slamming their hands down on the keyboard—all in all a forced, nasty sound.

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I stood in the middle of the bedroom, set to get dressed, and I yelled, "Babe, have you seen my boxers?" Prior to showering, I had laid out all of the clothing that I would need for the evening. However, I found myself standing in a towel and missing step one in the basics of getting dressed. I was not overly bothered by the absence of my underwear, but I still wondered how I had either forgotten the garb or misplaced them somewhere between showering and the bedroom.

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My cell phone buzzed, making me jump. My first thought was that Megan was calling me, calling me to apologize, calling to ask me to forgive her. Forgive her for screwing me over and kicking me to the curb like a dog. I'd been dozing in the old, worn recliner in my darkened living room. The TV was on, and the baseball game I'd been watching was over now.

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"Slow tonight, huh?" The "mixologist" glanced up at me through her blonde bangs as she poured my drink. They weren't allowed to be called bartenders... something to do with not having a liquor license, not wanting to attract the attention of the authorities to a club like this.

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