Your erotic stories

All the things I am going to write about are true. The names have been changed because my Master told me to change them. Several months ago, I met my Master in a chat room. It seemed he had the attention of the ladies in the room, so at first I didn't think he noticed me. While others threw themselves at him, I was more reserved. Soon he began talking about things I had some knowledge about and we started talking.

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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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Milla took three deep breaths as the elevator took her up to the penthouse. She knew she would have to step outside herself to do this job, way outside herself. She promised that she would be strong throughout, as this was her only choice and would be over in two weeks time.

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I'm unsure how it transpired. Someone knows someone else, who has a friend who is aware of another. All I knew was that I had received a telephone call. A business like voice saying my presence was required by a Ms. Rebecca Noah, an address and time given. When I asked to what did this pertain I was simply told it was a personal matter and that I would be expected. The line going dead.

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"I don't understand what she sees in him," said Michael, already feeling depressed at the thought of spending an evening with his arch nemesis, Nick. "I know Michael. But... she's been my best friend forever and as long as she's happy, then... what can we do?"

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Jerome stood just inside the doorway at the shadowed end of the room. He should have just turned and gone down the stairs and out to the carriage to tell Thomas that Master John wasn't ready to go yet. That's all Thomas, Master John's carriage driver, had told him to do. But the shock of what he'd found when he'd entered the house on Decatur Street and been waved to the second door down the hall on the second floor held him plastered to his shadowy vigil spot long enough to engage his curiosity.

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Cara was just sliding the tight-fitting gold spandex skirt down her hips when the doorbell rang. She gasped and looked at the clock. It was already 8:00! In a rush to answer the door, she grabbed the gold headpiece and armbands to her costume and slapped them on as she hurried down the stairs.

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I was recently on a golf trip with 3 friends, in addition to some great golf during the day, we always enjoyed a few nights out, and possibly some harmless dancing and flirting with some girls if we were lucky. All 4 of us were married, had been out of the game for a while, not what you would exactly call ladies men.

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By the time our second meeting ended, I had decided two things. First, my Master was very, very good at what he did to me. And second, there was no way I could wait until Christmas for our next visit. Almost a month had passed since our second "date." I had been teased, pleased, fucked, and damn well tortured during our short time together.

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1. When she was nineteen, two bandits dressed-up as Indians killed Molly Sheridan's father and her three younger brothers, and burned their ranch. They carried her off, but hadn't tied her hands properly, perhaps because they'd got so drunk, perhaps only because they didn't imagine she could give them any trouble, bound or no. Thus as they were riding, she was able to get hold of one of their pistols, and shoot the men dead.

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