Your erotic stories

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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When I'm evaluating a sub, I always look at the eyes first. The eyes tell whole stories about their owner. You can practically touch the anticipation and apprehension flooding out of a first-time sub's gaze. The more experienced ones tend to glance around eagerly, with only a little bit of anxiety or an obviously fake fearfulness. Kaitlin's big, brown eyes instantly drew me with their poise and eagerness, promising an intense experience. She met and exceeded that expectation.

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Natalie settled into her overstuffed armchair, pulled close to the small space heater. The wind howled, rattling the windows as it rattled Natalie's nerves. Sipping hot tea, she stared at her journal opened before her. This was Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, and she had been spending the evening focusing on the fact that she was alone, and had been for too long.

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I slipped my shoes on and nodded in response to her questioning look, telling her silently that I was ready to go with her. "Pick up your underwear and come with me, Pet." I opened the flap on the small bag I was carrying, but she stopped me with a glance. "Pick them up. Don't put them away. Carry them loosely, so they show." She led me to the door of the restaurant, my panties dangling from my fingers as we went.

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The door opened before the third knock. She must have been standing there waiting. The thought warms me as I look into her pale cream face. Her skin is smooth and spotless except for the tiny freckle under her left eye. Liquid aquamarine eyes hold my gaze as my fingers brush softly up her defined cheek bone. I drag my fingers through her silky smooth onyx hair and cup the back of her head in my hand.

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To call the private studio of the Dominatrix a dungeon would, for the fortunate, earn only her contempt. Eschewing the contrivances of male sadomasochistic fantasies, the walls were painted a passionless shade of gray-green, the oak floor polished to the luster of ancient gold, and the sole window decorated with an embroidered ivory curtain, now closed.

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The clatter of high heels on tile was like a siren to Michelle Lord. She tidied her station and closed the file she'd been working on and pushed away from the desk. Tanya, the secretary one desk over, cupped her hand over the phone receiver and said, "Honey, when she snaps, you don't have to say how high."

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It was Sarani and me at the table, and Wygotzki and Cherkov playing cards by the door, keeping an eye on the dirt track leading up to the cabin. We were waiting for the batch to arrive, but it wouldn't be in for hours. Needless to say, we were bored. Somehow, we began talking about sex.

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Victoria checked the bathroom to make sure that she had not left anything behind; she closed her carry-all and put the box her Mistress had sent her the day before in her hand luggage. She was more than ready to go home. The raven-haired Assistant District Attorney had been asked to present a panel at the annual Conference of Women in Law Enforcement in Chicago.

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Sandra sat at her desk and read the email over again. "My dear Sandra, I had such a good time with you last night that I wanted to send you a little thank you note. Your company was wonderful, and well, after, well, I have to say that I have never been with such a kinky, and generous woman before. You are truly amazing....... Leanne."

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