Your erotic stories

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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1. England in the early Eighteenth Century was a lawless country populated by the toffs on the one hand and the proletariat on the other. It was also a land noted for its number of highwaymen, chief among which was Dick Turpin from whom nobody who travelled the highways and byways of that green and not-so-pleasant land was safe.

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I grabbed my coat and hustled out of the hotel room I had called my home for the last five months. I was running late and new that my trainer Dave hated tardiness. We were meeting to discuss the last week of my training before I finally got placed in my permanent position as a mid level manager. Dave wanted to meet at a bar and grill on the south side of town that had great food and a quiet comfortable ambiance. The problem was that this restaurant was on the other side of the city and there was no way I was going to make it before seven.

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I lay bored in my bed, idly tapping my finger on my upper thigh. It was sticky hot outside; the type of hot that causes your clothes to cling to your skin, so I lay sprawled out under my fan, trying to keep cool. Even though I was wearing a velvet red string bikini, I was still flushed with tiny droplets of sweat crawling down between my breasts, and I was bored.

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Crack. The sound slices like a steel blade through the chatter of the conference room. Heads whip around, staring at me, while I stare at the broken glass of water. The glass of water I was supposed to bring. "Well don't just stand there, clean the bloody thing up." I bend down, black pencil skirt riding up slightly as I gingerly pick up the delicate shards of glass.

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Tony stood anxiously in his back yard looking up at the full moon. Earlier in the day he had shut off the breaker to the lights in the back taking the first step to his plan. The squeaking hinge had even been oiled something he had been meaning to do for quite a while. He had complained about the squeak a few times over the past week to help throw Alicia off from his plan.

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The anger and determination of Qin Shih Huang was almost palpable as he unleashed his cavalry, war chariots, and bronze and iron weapons—all battlefield levelers that his enemies had never before encountered—on the rebel town of Anyi. Within hours of receiving the message that the Lord of Anyi would not send tribute and yield in the season of homage, Qin Shih Huang, his loyal servant and chamberlain, Li Yuan, riding three strides to his rear, galloped out of Xian at the head of his cavalry and war chariots.

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I stood in front of my Dad, head hanging in shame. In my senior year of high school, just about to graduate, I still lived at home and probably would all through college and until I got a good job. And during all that time, Daddy would control me. Today, I was in serious trouble.

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Judge Thomas Oakley slowed the car as he crossed Martin Luther Key Street on St. Catherine where it turned into Jefferson. He often slowed down here, in passing the King's Tavern Lounge—although he'd never gotten up the gumption to go in there. It was too close to home and he was too well known.

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"Hello. I'm Mr. Devereux to see Ms. Hill," I said to the receptionist. My voice was clear and authoritative, but not overly aggressive. I was standing in front of her desk, which had the usual assortment of secretarial accoutrements; a large phone, pens, paper, rolodex and computer, which she was busily typing away at.

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