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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This Ella's story. She is real, as are Dani and Gabrielle. Part of the story is true... the rest is Ella's fantasy. I've reflected exactly what she told me. For those who don't enjoy stories with interracial lesbian domination or reluctance and coercion as their themes, thank you for stopping by but please pass on.

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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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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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Graphic lesbian sex, questionable consent, and...well...blood-drinking. Also more than likely entirely derivative, albeit subconsciously. If any of that disturbs you, please skip this one. Comments welcome!

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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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The place is not what I expected. The atmosphere is bright, glitzy, with an overall techno feel that seems almost cold. I had expected something warmer, more ... nurturing, feminine, I guess, from a place that caters exclusively to women. I wonder if this appeals to the butch types, and then laugh at myself for indulging in stereotypes. What do I know, anyway - it's my first time in a "girl bar".

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