Your erotic stories

All the things I am going to write about are true. The names have been changed because my Master told me to change them. Several months ago, I met my Master in a chat room. It seemed he had the attention of the ladies in the room, so at first I didn't think he noticed me. While others threw themselves at him, I was more reserved. Soon he began talking about things I had some knowledge about and we started talking.

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Helen was sifting through the latest batched of replies to her online adult dating advert when she came across Graham's and laughed! His self-assurance bordered on arrogance - in fact it didn't border on arrogance - it was arrogance! He was a self proclaimed master of the bedroom, promising Helen a time she would never forget, with complete satisfaction guaranteed.

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He doesn't need to blindfold me. The room is dark as pitch, even with my eyes wide open, staring so hard that I can feel my pupils dilated fully, making my ears ring, all I see is dark in dark. The high backed wooden chair I'm tied to is the only solid thing my senses can grab hold of, the harshness of the rope that binds my hands tightly behind my back and my feet to the chair legs.

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1. When she was nineteen, two bandits dressed-up as Indians killed Molly Sheridan's father and her three younger brothers, and burned their ranch. They carried her off, but hadn't tied her hands properly, perhaps because they'd got so drunk, perhaps only because they didn't imagine she could give them any trouble, bound or no. Thus as they were riding, she was able to get hold of one of their pistols, and shoot the men dead.

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Her head bends reverently forward to rest on his knee. His hand is eager to stroke the light brown locks that fall covering her reflective green eyes. Her eyes are his to see or to cover at his desire. For a moment he wishes to see her sparkling eyes and the gentle smile that so gently curves her soft lips, but not for long.

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"...When you greet me at your door I want you to be wearing your dildo-pants. Oh, and wear them under your tightest pair of jeans. I'm taking you out tonight, and yes; I do want you wearing them out in public. I'll see you in a bit," I said, and then hung up without giving her a chance to respond.

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The sun sneaks through the blinds and one of the warm rays reaches down to caress my cheek. I yawn and stretch, rolling over onto my stomach quietly so as not to wake you. I smile remembering the party we had last night...good friends and lots of wine. My eyes flutter open and I greet the new day, propping myself up on my elbow to watch you for a bit. You lie peacefully next to me, sound asleep, unaware of my eyes skimming over your body.

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When you're a Villain, there are certain things you sign up for. The risk of arrest, the risk of getting shot by police, the risk of getting hunted and severely beaten up by heroes. The risk of what happens when your secret identity is uncovered. The risk of other Villains hunting you for their own ends. Oh yes, don't believe that only Heroines get hunted, trapped and put through slave training by Villains. Villains get it worse.

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Shrugging into the jacket of his tuxedo, Jacob smiled hearing the chatter of the crowd that had rapidly gathered in the parking lot below him in anticipation of the doors of the club opening. Earlier while making his rounds seeing that everything was ready he shook his head glancing outside seeing the wealth of jewelry that flashed and the vibrant colors of the couture clothing the women were sporting as they clung to the arms of their tuxedo clad gentlemen.

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There is a long, still silence. Finally, you exhale slowly and speak. "Yes." "Yes, what?" You hear my voice beside you. "Yes. ... I surrender... to you." You are blindfolded and tied to your own bed, secured by each ankle and wrist to the four bedposts. You are spread-eagled on your back, naked except for the exquisitely soft blanket covering you from shoulder to ankle.

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