Free XXX Sex Stories Blog

To Miss Stephanie,

It was almost time for Stephanie to get home and Alicia was getting warm with excitement at the thought. She was finishing the vacuuming, the last of the housework that she had told her to do that day. Nothing thrilled her more than playing servant to the tall, imperious girl she had married. She was so beautiful and she loved her so much – that kneeling in submission before her was the supreme pleasure in her life. She had a hard-on in her tight panties, beneath the frilly white apron that covered them, truly a slave of love to that girl.

She heard the front door open and a tingle of titillation went through her. Then she stepped into the living room : a gorgeous creature with long dark hair. She stood with hands on hips, watching her finish her tasks, clad in the white silk blouse and neat black skirt she had worn that day to the office where she was a rising young executive. She had a look of disapproval on her face as she stepped across the freshly vacuumed carpet and dropped into an easy-chair.

“I’m tired, Alicia,” she sighed. “it’s been a hard day, one conference after another. And some of my underlings are no better than you. Inefficient. I have to do everything myself.” She nodded, shutting off the vacuum cleaner as she motioned for her to set it aside and come to her. “Remove my shoes,” she snapped, “and then massage my feet.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said, hurrying over and addressing her in the form she most liked to hear. It thrilled her just to say those words, the submissive words of a love slave, and she was soon on her knees at her feet. (click to read entire story…)

As she walked into the store I could tell she was in great shape. She wore a halter top and shorts of a bright orange color, which really set off her fantastic tan. As she approached me I watched as her thighs would constrict and relax, constrict and relax with each step. I guess I gawked because she smiled at me and the look in her eyes was a taunting one.

“Where do you keep the blank cassettes?”

“Right this way.”

As I started to show her where they were she said, “oh, stay there I’ll find them myself.”

As she walked away I had the feeling she wanted me to watch her from the rear. What a sight! The ripple of muscle in her buttocks was fantastic; but, the bunching of her calves, which were accented by her high heels, was truly awesome. She got her tapes, came up to the counter and looked around to see if anyone else was in the store. We were alone.

“Are you a betting man?” she asked coyly.

“Well, sometimes, why?” I replied.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll bet I can beat you in [tag]arm wrestling[/tag] and even make you beg me to take these tapes for free. Wanna bet?” (click to read entire story…)

I am a dominant wife, and I dearly love to crush the male.

We’ve been married one year. I’m 29 and Gene is 26. I stand 5’10”, measure 37-25-36, and have won several beauty contests. Gene is 5’7″ and slender, and only his money attracted me. At age 23, he inherited a thriving business when his parents died; at 24, he inherited considerable stocks and bonds from an aunt. When we dated, and I discovered he could be completely dominated, I decided to share the wealth. He proposed, and learned he would have to be my slave. He agreed.

Even before the wedding I sought other couples to share fun and games. I found two perfect pairs. Bill and Ginger are 31; Don and Phyllis are 30. Each couple is socially prominent and dedicated to female domination. Bill and Don are big, muscular men who, unlike Gene, are bisexual. Although I ridicule and discipline Gene daily, Saturday night he is humiliated and punished by others.

We arrive at Ginger’s house about 9 pm. Each wife prepares her slave in a separate room. I know Bill and Don will wear rubber jockstraps and be unbound. I make Gene strip, fold his arms up against his back, and with cuffs and short chains I lock his hands to a collar. Naked and helpless, he is marched into the game room to stand at attention near us. Don and Bill, making drinks, pause and run their eyes warmly over Gene’s body.

The men kneel alongside our chairs while we three girls visit. Soon I designate one of the men to watch Gene and report if he relaxes his attention pose. When he does, Ginger or Phyllis gives him several hard swats with a paddle. One of them suggests nipple rings as further punishment. A heavy steel ring is snapped onto the tip of each nipple, and Gene’s penis rises and swells instantly. We girls laugh at his slim six inches and I tell him how inept he is as a lover.

(click to read entire story…)

I first met Bonnie two years ago in a health club to which we both belonged, and I was immediately struck by her strength, beauty and femininity. An inch taller than my own 5’9″ and with a powerful, muscular, yet shapely body that outweighed my own by a good ten pounds, I was fascinated at the way she could outlift most of the men at the club and struck up a conversation with her. When she invited me to come home with her I accepted eagerly.

However, I soon discovered what she had in mind for me. Quickly changing into sensuous black tights that revealed every muscle and curve of her fantastic body, she challenged me to a friendly wrestling match. Almost drooling at the prospect of physical contact with this gorgeous Amazon, I readily agreed, and before I realized it she had me downstairs on a wrestling mat in her gameroom. We closed, locking hands, and I held my own for a moment or two while she tested my strength, but after that I never had a chance. She was stronger and faster than I and knew every trick in the book. She put me through a dozen holds in as many minutes, maintaining each hold just long enough to ensure that I couldn’t escape and then moving into the next one. She finished me off by getting behind me, wrapping her powerful arms around my chest, pinning my arms to my sides and lifting me completely off the mat in a crushing bear hug that I thought would cave in my ribs until I was completely limp with exhaustion. Then she put me across her shoulders and gave me an airplane spin that left my mind reeling. She finally ended the contest–if you could call it that–by gripping my neck and buttocks and heaving me up over her head, her arms fully extended, to hold me there, seemingly ten feet in the air, my nose inches from the ceiling, while I struggled feebly to escape her grip, and then tossing me on my back, straddling my chest and pinning my shoulders to the mat with her knees.

(click to read entire story…)