Tag member submitted Erotica

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.

There was a flight of stairs, ascended looking for the bedrooms and the jewelry. At the top of the stairs he entered the room on the right, it was unlike anything he had every seen! There was a sling suspended from the ceiling, a torture table, hand cuffs, and whips! His cock went instantly erect!

how can he forget! As he woke and his eyes sorted out the kaleidoscope of colors into discernible objects he then realized the seriousness of his situation. He was naked, and securely bound to an odd chair. His legs were spread as the chair seat was in a “V” shape.

I studied the familiar sights from my childhood, for some reason that day they were very clear to me; in the hot late January afternoon all the memories flooded back. It seemed like only yesterday but it had been twelve years since my parents sold the family home next door and moved on. A little bit at a time our old place had been radically altered by the three subsequent owners; my bedroom window that I stared out for hours was gone – replaced by cold aluminium sliding doors leading onto a weird looking deck, the wonderful big above-ground pool was gone, the trusty old garage gone; everything had changed.

Setting the scene for play, Ready, set, go!

“Damn it, damn it, I hate it when I’m late, gawd I’m going to be sorry for this” I grumbled softly to myself. Buzz… Buzz… giggling to my self I realize I might get away with it she’s not here, she’s late also. Soon he would bound and waiting