An Evening

After dinner, we talked, cuddled, chilled. Then he turned to me, “Take your clothes off”.
The tone told me he was serious. I stood up and slipped off my skirt, followed rapidly by the rest of my clothes. Practicality attempted to rear its head.

“I need the toilet” I pointed out, reasonably.

“Perhaps” he said evilly. He turned and left the room, I heard distant noises as he went to a cupboard, and returned with a large plastic bowl which he placed on the floor. I regarded it in horror.

“You can use that” he commanded.

I knew better than to try to argue. I went and squatted awkwardly over the bowl feeling horribly self-conscious and attempted to perform. I closed my eyes as I sought to relax my muscles.

“Look at me” he demanded.

I opened my eyes and gazed at him, as I tried to concentrate on my body my eyes dropped. Again he insisted on my attention. Finally, my eyes fixed on his, my body cooperated and I felt the relief as my bladder emptied. He handed me paper to wipe with. I did so, feeling more humiliated by his regard than ever.

After clearing it away, I was sent upstairs to the bedroom where he soon followed me.
With twisted humour he sent me back downstairs again to fetch two pegs. I returned, all too full of foreboding.

He ordered me onto all fours, and proceeded to attach the pegs to my nipples. They were mercifully gentle, but I knew more was to come.  He proceeded to spank me. His hand setting up an insistent rhythm. I let it take me away, living in the moment. As I struggled with the pain I sagged under the blows.

“Tell me when you’ve had enough of my hand” he insisted in a tone which left me sure worse was to follow. I debated internally how much bravery to show.

“I’ve had enough” I admitted.

He fetched the crop then, and told me there would be ten strokes, I was to be in the same position for each one.  He began then, in a steady rhythm, not too fast. Each stroke, with power behind it, first on the left, and then the right. That made it easier to take, and I held firm for several strokes before collapsing downwards.

Breathing hard, I was aware of him waiting patiently above me.  I could delay the remaining strokes indefinitely, all I had to do was lie still.  I wondered briefly if I could avoid the remaining strokes entirely by refusing to resume my position. Even as I thought it, I realised how much I would hate such an outcome.

I forced myself back onto my hands and knees, eager to complete this challenge. The last few strokes were delivered evenly. I felt the burning in my bottom, and wondered what more was in store.

He pushed me down now, so I lay on my front.
He moved behind me, forcing my legs apart, and kneeling between them. His hand ran up my thigh, his fingers swirling in the dampness between them. I shuddered at his touch, knowing he could tell how turned on I was by everything he had done.

I felt his cock then, pushing into my pussy. His body over mine pressing against the soreness in my bottom.

“Push your ass up to me” he ordered.

As I did so, I felt him go deeper, and I cried out helplessly at the total penetration. His pounding intensified, and I struggled to hold position. I felt his urgency, and pushed back eagerly until I felt him cum inside me, crying out with his pleasure.

I collapsed downwards now. Him lying on me, sated.

Then he withdrew, and lifted his weight off me. His hand snaked between my legs, as I lay there, with such little touches needed until I too was crying out with delight.

Our needs met, we snuggled together, and settled down to sleep.


There is a moment during the ride to orgasm when fantasy opens up, when anything seems possible and desirable. After the wave of pleasure has crashed over you, lying there spent, the sober mind is frightened by the depth of images conjured up, yet they retain such power still.

I want submission, total and overpowering. I want to be stripped naked, deprived of clothes, of voice, of human protections. To be thrown at his feet to serve. Fed scraps from his hand or a bowl at his feet. Humiliated. My body his plaything. Tortured. Surrendering to pain, each emotion torn away and discarded, each thought replaced with the eternal present. Used. Surrendering to his pleasure, feeling his delight in his creature, his creation. Degraded. My own desire pushing me on, performing such service, willingly offering myself, beyond my limits, desiring to please. Possessed. Dominated. Stripped.

When I am spent, sobbing at his feet, empty of myself and yet totally fulfilled, I want to be gathered up, comforted with softness and love, knowing I have truly earned his approval and affection.


A girl sat on the beach. She stared, slightly sullenly, across the water where her Master was swimming. Really, she thought, she hadn’t been that stubborn really, had she?

Still, she had wondered for a moment if he had been going to spank her, right there, in front of all those people. She had been almost relieved at the smaller threat of being made to kneel. She had backed down, quickly, then. She could see he meant it; that he wasn’t going to let her challenge his authority any more that day. So, not really that stubborn at all.

He had ordered her then, back to the beach, to watch, and to create a dirty story. That alone wouldn’t have been such a challenge.
“Start it”, he had ordered, “with a stubborn girl, being punished by her Master”.
She fumed silently. What was she meant to write? Was she meant to come up with a crueller punishment for a girl in her position? And if she did, would it be used against her? She knew that was always possible. Her master could be evil when he wanted.

After all, thinking up a naughty story was very little hardship. She leant back, feeling a tingle of excitement run through her. She got to lie here, and think naughty thoughts, hardly a punishment at all.

Of course, she realised suddenly, that wasn’t the punishment at all. The punishment was to tell her story. Her mouth twisted. That was in itself cruel indeed. A clever, twisted punishment, from a man who knew just how to manipulate her. But what story could she tell?

Then, in an instant, she knew; there could be only one story.

She sighed deeply, and began.

“A girl sat on the beach…”

Playing With His Girls

This is a continuation of a story I started here. Two girls are with their Master in a hotel room…

“Hands behind your backs” he ordered them.

The two girls obeyed swiftly, leaving their weight supported on their shoulders.
Taking some bondage tape he bound each girls hands, wrists to elbows, leaving them vulnerable and unable to defend themselves. He stroked their wet pussies, and then slapped each raised butt, making the girls gasp.

He helped first one girl and then the other to their knees, so that they faced each other.
“kiss” he commanded, and watched with pleasure, as they leaned into each other, their mouths open, tasting each other, their breasts pressed together. He placed his hands on the small of each curved back and pushed the two women closer together, watching their bodies respond to that closeness with eager motions.

“Stop” he pulled the two forcibly apart, so that they knelt back on their heels. They turned to look at him, breathing ragged, eyes wild.
The man smiled at their obvious enjoyment. He intended them to give him much more of a show than that.
“My lovely sluts, it’s time to play another game”

He helped the dark haired girl to get off the bed and stood her at the corner, hands still bound. While she watched, he went over to a bag in the corner of the room and withdrew a blindfold. She watched him nervously, but he took it to the bed and fastened it over the blonde girl’s eyes.

The blindfolded girl gasped, as sightless she felt his hands roaming her body. Then his touch was gone, and she breathed rapidly trying to distinguish the sounds in the room.

The standing girl’s hands were unbound, and again he went to his bag, to withdraw items which he passed to her.

“Sir?” she was startled.

“Silence” he ordered her swiftly, “not a word”. His hand gestures making his intentions quite clear.

She nodded, biting her lip as she looked towards the bound girl on the bed.

He moved back to the bed now, and resumed touching the girl kneeling there. He tweaked her nipples, and pulled her head back by her hair so that he could kiss and bite at her exposed throat. When she began to moan loudly at his touches he reached round and unbound her hands swiftly, letting the tape fall to the floor.

She reached to embrace him, and he moved closer, pushing her down, so that she lay back on the bed now.

“Stay there”, he told her, although she had shown no sign of attempting to rise. He stepped back and undressed quickly, catching the other girl’s eyes. as she watched in nervous fascination.

He moved over the prone girl, his body over and confining hers. She reached for him, and was delighted as he kissed her deeply. Then she felt him parting her thighs and his fingers probed her pussy. He felt her dampness, and licked it off his fingers, tasting her juices.

She moaned again as she felt his cock push against her. She spread her thighs further apart welcoming its touch. He slid into her fully, and then began to move, more and more swiftly, until he was pounding hard into her with every stroke, and her cries were throaty and incoherent.

Suddenly he withdrew. The air felt cool against her damp pussy. She moaned in disappointment.

“Sir”, her voice was tentative.

“Yes?” he encouraged her to speak.

“Sir, please…” she struggled.

“Would you like more?” he asked her dangerously.

“Yes, yes, more, please”, she begged eagerly, her body twisting on the bed.

He smiled, “More, you shall have my dear one”.

He came round to kneel beside her. with one hand he took her wrists and lifted them above her head, holding them together. With the other he guided her head until his cock pressed against her lips. She opened her mouth obediently, eagerly, tasting her own juices on him. As she, held and blindfolded, sucked eagerly on him, he gestured sternly at the waiting girl…

He stroked the blonde girls head with his free hand. She wriggled briefly, a reflex motion as she felt lube coated fingers stroking her pussy. Then again, as she felt something hard and cool probing there. She felt something slide into her eagerly damp cunt, stretching her slightly, she felt a body above her, pressing against her own.

Holding her hands still, he pulled back freeing her head to turn upwards seeking a kiss. He pulled the blindfold from her now. Her eyes opened automatically, and widened as she saw the dark haired girl above her. The girls kissed, passionately, their hips moving in a simple rhythm. He let the girl’s hands go now, and they ran down the other’s body, until they felt the straps around her hips.

He watched as one girl arched her body up, to allow the other to look, and see the strap on she was wearing, pushing into her. They moved urgently together now. His fingers probed between them, intensifying the experience, helping them to the brink. They cried out to him as they came, one and then the other. Their bodies slick with sweat entwined together.

He smiled again, he hadn’t come himself yet…

His Girls

This picture got me thinking. So here’s a story to go with it.

He watched the women from the other side of the room. They sat near the hotel bar, two heads close together; one dark, one light. They were smiling together, faces lit with pleasure as they talked.

Both women were submissive and they were his. He had played with each of them many times, but this was the first time he had brought the two together in person. He was delighted to see them so comfortable together. Over dinner they had talked and laughed and were well on the way to becoming firm friends. Now it was time to play some more.

Continue reading “His Girls”

Left at Home

This is what I think about when I’m home alone.

“I have to go out tonight” he tells her as sits on the edge of the bed fastening his shoes, “but I will be thinking about you”.

She watches him sceptically. He will be having fun, with no reason to think about her. She knows however, that she will be missing him.

“Get your collar” he commands suddenly.

Continue reading “Left at Home”

Thank You Note

After all, politeness is important, even in fantasy.

It was an important meeting. She carried a briefcase and an overnight bag to the car, and kissed her husband goodbye. His hand trailed over her breasts, and she flushed slightly as she waved him goodbye, remembering the previous evening. He had found the sharpie in her briefcase, and had written on her breasts and pussy, before making love to her. The words were there still, concealed under her smart suit. She shook her head as if to clear it, she had a busy day ahead of her.

Continue reading “Thank You Note”