Your erotic stories

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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This short story is a follow on from Krissy's Holiday in the Far East, so read that first if you want the full picture. It is always intriguing what happens after a brief fling, though we so rarely get to find out. I thought a juicy follow up was well deserved.

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