Tag member submitted Erotica

A Domme is kept waiting. Knackered he climbed from the car, stretching his back as he walked towards the house, music was blaring upstairs and he smiled, She was happy, listening to the words he hummed them as he pushed the key into the lock “these boot are made for walk…..”.

under her feet he found freedom. he’d been laying there awhile, on his back, Her feet upon his face, heels a gentle pressure over his eyes Her toes pointing downwards, gently resting on his chin. Every now and then when She giggled at the programme She watched She would bring them together, squeezing his nose and cutting off his air, and during the adverts he could tell She was bored

for the one he would gladly eat olives for. He stood in the queue waiting the cold had made his skin into goose flesh, and he was sure people could see the outline of the black plug he held within. His nipples tightening made the small subtle clamps bite deeper and here he stood trying to calm himself, his body invaded with Her, his nipples on fire, collecting the groceries she had told him to fetch.

The time had eventually come to have some leave, having just spent a spell in the jungle of Belize. I had been writing to a ProDomme I had replied to in a magazine, and had arranged to meet Her in Her London rooms, whilst I was staying at a Services Club. She had promised a long session and only taking a tribute for what She would take for 1 hr.

Raven had trained for a year in preparation for this day, and he had spent an even greater deal of time fantasizing about it. His Priestess, Lilith, had come to him last night with the news, “My dear Raven, you have finally earned your collaring”. She then divulged the rules he would have to follow for the next twenty-four hours. He was not allowed to speak, eat, was only allowed to drink water and absolutely no masturbation!

It was Halloween at midnight. She sits on the edge of her four-posted bed, legs crossed. Her black bra, skinny panties and killer heels glint in the ethereal light. Four red silk scarves tied to the bedposts trail in a breeze from an open window. ‘Come here,’ she says.

CBT and weights. How much weight can he lift for her.

As I took my position I thought about all that had transpired leading up to this.It started so innocently. An asshole flamed Ms Norma Jean on her Yahoo Group. Well being the Southern Gentlemen that I am, I could not stand by and allow that to go unanswered! My reply was in true Southern form, and then I apologized to the Mistress for his total lack of Manors..and accused him of being a Damn Yankee.

What a life altering mistake he had made, breaking into the dungeon to rob the place only to be captured and turned into her fantasy slave. She had never met a slave who should withstand such intense CBT, in fact just thinking of what she had already done to him made her wet with desire.

he wanted was her things of value. Hours later she arose from her slumber, the previous session merely an afterglow to her body. She stretched and sat upright. Looking down she saw her slave, pete.