Your erotic stories

I wanted to grab a fucking bottle of vodka and chuck it. Or throw it. Or burn it. Extraordinary stress, huh? Yeah that is what I am feeling. Damn pissed off at Daniel. We had an argument last night about where we are headed and in the midst of it, he said we should part ways for a while.

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"Mistress LF Slave Boy. W4M, 18-28" was the title of the Craigslist add. Trey, a 25 year old beta male, had taken to perusing various personals listings. He wasn't much of a bar kind of guy, nor did he know much about how to go out and meet women. Sifting through the postings mostly made by men Trey had managed to come across several listings by women that seemed potentially promising. Unfortunately he'd never gotten the nerve to actually try and contact one of the listing parties.

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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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She was feeling a little nervous as she arrived. Mistress Heather, as she was known in the D/s community, was still a rather young girl of 23. She had been a practicing Domme for a little over 3 years, however most of those experiences were in the confines of a few of her college relationships. It had only been for the last 9 months that the blond haired Domme had sought more professional experiences with true sub girls.

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When you meet the right person, you can allow yourself to fall knowing that they will catch you... Emerging from the Taiwanese drink shop holding a purple taro shake in one hand while grabbing her sunglasses from her shirt collar with the other, CJ quickly shields her green eyes from the bright sun as her cell phone buzzes to life inside her pocket.

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"Knock knock" It wasn't the set up to a lame joke. It was real knocking on my apartment door. I paused the movie I was watching and got up off the couch to walk across the room to that white wooden door. "Who the hell is it..." Looking out the peephole, I saw someone I did not expect. It was a woman, young, 1 year younger than me. Wavy, black, shoulder length, sharp brown eyes, tan skin, a prominent nose that could belong to an Italian or a "Middle-Easterner".

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We meet in a bar, me, my best sissyboy painslut & you. We are all dressed in everyday office attire; you boys look so professional in your suits. I have on a tight white blouse which strains a little at the buttons, the sheer lace of my bra clearly showing through; a straight black skirt, net stockings & heeled patent black pumps. There are other such groups in the bar & we don't look out of place as we choose a quiet corner table;

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I'm sitting in the black leather chair as usual. The leather cool against my thighs. I'm dressed in a very short black skirt, a skintight low necked black top, black fishnet stockings and the main event: my six inch black shiny stiletto heeled shoes. I cross my legs and swing my foot impatiently, acutely conscious of the light reflecting off my shoe as it makes its arc through the air.

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As I get closer to the door, I can see there is a note attached to the front door. As I get close enough to read it, I see that she is awaiting my arrival. Out of politeness, I knock on the door and wait a moment. Then the door opens. It is Robert. He is partially dressed in a tuxedo and it appears he is getting ready for an evening out. I say good evening to him.

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The contract took effect at 5pm Friday night. The rules were simple; Janna, my girlfriend, was to do my bidding for an entire weekend. I introduced language to clarify the extent of the rules; specifically, that I could exert my authority via punishment. The limit on punishment was that there could be no injury imposed or lasting evidence of punishment, i.e. no mark, scar, etc.

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