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March 25, 2008

“Stranded”

story categories: sex stories

The relentless heat and humidity, that was what she felt in the last 3 days in this living hell hole. Deep in no man’s land, somewhere within the foreboding bowels of the vast and untamed Amazon rain forest lay the mangled wreckage of the DC10.

The plane was enroute from Manhattan’s Newark airport to Peru, South America with its 20 passengers comprising models, photographers, agents from Sports Illustrated when it was caught in a freak thunderstorm.

Smoke still trailed from the smoldering remains of the two Rolls Royce engines. One had failed when a million bolts of electricity seized its turbines, and it was a testament to the engineering feat of its makers that the remaining engine had kept the plane aloft in the freak storm for another 3 hours before it too finally succumbed, not to mother nature, but to lack of aviation fuel.

Now, Denise Sanders was all alone in a hostile alien environment. She was hopping that the pilot had a chance to send out the SOS transmitting their approximate location, and had stayed in the scattered wreckage for the last three days surviving on scraps of air-line meals

Denise was a survivor. She had to be in order to get to where she currently was, as top model and cover girl for Sports Illustrated Swimwear. She will survive. She had to, there was no other option. These were the words that occupied her mind constantly. At a relatively young and tender age of 24 years, she had already risen through the ranks of most of her peers to take poll position on the covers of the tabloids. Of cause the fact that she was a stunning brunette beauty with long luscious hair, a lithe willowy figure with wasp’s waist, snowy white complexion and nice firm natural 32B breasts, stood her in good stead.

It did not help her present predicament that they were enroute to a formal evening wear shoot and she was still wearing a body hugging white silk gown. Day time temperatures in the rain forest reached 38 degrees Celsius and after three continuous days of wear in the moist humid environment, the fine silk fabric now stuck to her constantly moist body like a second skin. Most of the exotic gowns had no relevance in this hostile environment. What she would not give for a good pair of jeans and long sleeved overalls to afford her some shelter from the biting insects. And a nice hot bath to wash of several days of perspiration that had accumulated in this hot and humid jungle.

With nightfall, the discomfort of the tropical heat was replaced with the cold fear that accompanied the cloak of darkness which engulfed the thick jungle canopy. She had been paralyzed with fear on the first night, lying curled in fetus position in the remains of the business class cabin in a thick blanket of darkness as the nocturnal life forms of the jungle went about their usual business for the night. Except for an inquisitive anteater who wandered into the wreckage looking for a meal, she was left unmolested.

The second night was a different story. The decent of the DC10 had not gone un-noticed by the locals. In fact the native tribe had already scouted the parameters of the crash site to investigate the latest “offering from the gods”, fearing to come any closer for fear of invoking the wrath of the havens. But as the wreckage lay dormant and silent, save for a wisp of smoke from its mangled turbines, they become more bold on the second night and ventured closer. She was aware of their presence as she heard voices in the dark, but followed her instinct and stayed well within the confines of the cabin.

Denise realized she would have to vacate her temporary home soon. The DC10 was reserved exclusively for the modeling crew of 20 from Sports Illustrated (10 models along with make-up artists, photographers, agents and designers) and she was the only sole survivor. The original impact had strewn some of the bodies far from the wreckage as the plane had broken into two separate pieces. However, there remained at least 4 corpses in her make-shift home (3 models and a photographer). She had dragged them to the far end of the wreckage (away from her sleeping cot), but in the humid tropical heat, they were already in a state of decay, and in another few days the stench from the decomposition would fill the small cabin, attracting unwelcomed visitors. She knew it was only a matter to time before the water supply and food ratios ran-out and she had to relocate, otherwise her temporary shelter would become her permanent tomb.

But she was also torn by indecision. She knew that a search party would have been organized, and there was also a chance the pilot has transmitted their last known co-ordinates before the plane went down, so the search party would narrow down the geographic area of their search. And there was also a chance they would be able to spot the scattered remains of the DC10 wreckage from the air. The last thing she wanted was to have a rescue party descend from the havens onto the wreckage after she had left.

After pondering over her dilemma, Denise took stock of her food and water ratios and estimated they would last her another week at most. She decided to stay put for another 3 days and devised a plan allocate the daylight hours to do a reconnaissance of the immediate area to seek out a source of fresh water and a safer abode.

As the golden rays of the early morning sun penetrated the thick jungle foliage, marking the start off the fourth day, she slipped on the size 11 boots that she had taken from the dead pilot and started her trek north (or what she thought was north), always taking care to keep the wreckage within visual range. The boots were much too big for her dainty size 7 feet, but stiletto heels were the last thing she needed in a rain forest. And she needed some protection from the creepy crawlies that wandered the dense underbrush of the rain forest.

The early freshness of the morning dew was quickly dissipated by the stifling heat of the tropical jungle as the sun climbed higher into the sky. High above her head the thick canopy of leaves gave some shady respite, but also served to trap the heat in. After one hour of brisk trekking, Denise was bathed in perspiration, the fine silk gown clung damply to her moist skin. It was a USD2000 Armani classic and she had no doubt its designer would be turning in his grave if he saw the torn and tattered state of his work. She had also added to the damage by shearing off the bottom half of the dress, below her knees, so she could walk faster and easier. This was no way to treat a USD2000 art work, but survival took precedence and practicality was the order of the day.

Unable to endure the stifling heat, she paused for awhile and took a grateful sip from her plastic Evian bottle. She looked back and was reassured to see the distant wreckage of the DC10, with its cockpit section suspended high in the canopy of branches. She casually scanned ahead again, and suddenly froze as her eyes settled upon another pair of eyes in the thick foliage ahead that gazed back intently at her. She was not alone, and it was quite likely they had been tracking her for quite some time. The pair of brown eyes continued their appraisal of her, patiently waiting for her next move.

She took a hesitant step back, were they hostile or friendly? Her fear mounted as her stalker emerged from the shadows. He was huge and totally nude, carrying a long spear. As he approached her, she spied a necklace with small shrunken human skulls decorating his neck. That made up her mind for her and she turned heels and ran as fast as her legs could carry her, making a bee line back to the wreckage.

A quick glance over her shoulders indicated her stalker was giving chase. His long limbs carrying him gracefully and effortlessly over the uneven jungle terrain, quickly narrowing the distance between them. She ran faster, stumbling several times in the heavy size 11 boots. As she neared the familiar wreckage, she turned around and was relieved to see the native no longer in sight. Suddenly, a bolo sprang from out of no where, wrapping itself tightly around her lower calf and tripping her in mid-flight.

She landed in an ungraceful heap and was momentarily stunned with the wind knocked out of her. Immediately she struggled to rid herself of the tight coiled rope that snared her feet, but was too late as the huge Negro approached. She pushed herself backwards desperately trying to place some distance between them, but it was hopeless. As he raised his spear, she closed her eyes, praying for a quick and merciful end.

The silence of the jungle was broken by a single shot, followed by the thud of a falling body. She opened her eyes again and saw the now lifeless body of the Negro strewn across her feet, eyes still open and staring uncomprehendingly, with a single bullet hole gaping on his forehead. Gratefully she whispered a quick prayer of thanks to the gods and struggled free of the tangled bolos.

Turning around she started to thank her savior …..but the words stuck in her mouth as she took stock of the band of seven men before her.

“Well, well well what have we here, a gift from the gods wont u say…..and doesn’t she look absolutely delicious”, sneered a bearded pot bellied man

“Geeze, you are god-damm right, the closest I can get to broads like her is on the covers of those flashy magazines”, another man with a scarred face said.

A third moved closer and said; ‘That’s probably where she came from, she’s probably from the plane that went down four days back carrying them models, its all over the radio….and there’s a nice reward for her too”

Denise sensed a ray of hope; “Yes there is, you have been so kind all of you, if you can just take me to the nearest town, and the local authorities, I can contact my agency to arrange settlement of the reward…”

The fat bearded one laughed; “Yes a hundred grand would come in useful, that would be about 3 rhino horns or a couple of elephant tusks……but you on the other hand are a god send, none of us had any proper women meat in quite a few years, not in this stink hole and not if u count the cheap smelly native whores here….you are prime meat.” And he licked his lips with relish.

In horror she realized that they were poachers and smugglers. All of them were armed, and all of them were staring at her with undisguised lust. The fat one approached her grabbing her by her arm; “what are we waiting for boys, she smells mighty nice from here and I wanna get up close and personal..”

“No wait, we all want to go first……”, said Scar Face, “look at her, a kiss of what lies between those legs and I would die a happy man.”

“Over my dead body…she’s mine first you wait your turn.” Growled Fatty.

“Put it to the vote man, we settle it like we do our hunt, whoever brings down the prey gets first go…”, suggested Scar Face.

The other 5 men nodded in silence. A look of frustration and rage came over Fatty’s face. He pulled Denise to him and forced his mouth on to hers for a long kiss before reluctantly releasing her; “You will be mine soon”….he sneered.

Scar Face nodded to her and said: “Don’t you want your freedom….RUN”.

Again she took flight, spurred on instinctively by mortal fear. But deep down, Denise knew it was a hopeless race. There were 7 of them, they were bigger, stronger and meaner, and they knew the terrain. But she had to take the one last chance, the alternative was just to give-up, and she was no quitter. Denise was a winner, she thought to herself, and she would not go down this way, and not to this band of half baked uncivilized cavemen.

A quick glance behind indicated strangely that none of the poachers had given chase. Encouraged, she stepped up the pace, plunging blindly into the thick foliage. Suddenly a hairy arm reached from behind and painfully caught hold of a fist full of her long flying hair. It was Fatty again and he had obviously taken a short cut, anticipating her route. She was more agile and nimble, turning quickly she delivered a well aimed kick at his crotch which caught him totally off-guard. His face contorted in pain causing him to loosen his grip on her long mane of black hair, and she seized the opportunity to take flight again, in a different direction.


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March 17, 2008

“A Secret Fantasy Come True”

story categories: sex stories

As I stated earlier, I wanted to give my slave a gift for his faithful service. Unbeknownst to him, I had been surfing the net, looking for female dominants to add to our little family.

I contacted several that I thought might be promising and made arrangements to meet all of them at one time in one place. Several miles away, in another town is a small dom/sub club. I ordered my slave to put on his party outfit.

I then put on mine, which, starting from the underwear to the top, consisted of: a black lace pushup bustier, with a garter belt and black fishnet hose, a black lace thong, which fit nicely up my ass cheeks.

Over that, I put on a sheer black pullover shirt and a black sued miniskirt with long fringes. I wore black, silver studded boots and had my hair pulled up, with tendrils hanging around my artfully made-up face; which glowed in anticipation of tonight’s events.

We put coats over our outfits for the drive as to not arouse attention to ourselves, but when we arrived at the club, we threw our coats in the back seat. I ordered my slave to stand before me so that I could inspect him.

He looked absolutely adorable in his black leather thong. Around his muscular chest was a leather harness, which had chains attached to his nipple rings.

He wore leather sandals and around his neck was a leather collar with silver studs, to match my boots. His long black hair was flowing free, the way it must have been in the old West, when Native Americans roamed free and proud.

But, my warrior stood humbly before me, with his head bowed. His eyes looked up beseechingly at me. I nodded approvingly. “Do I meet with your approval, Mistress?”, he asked meekly. I answered by giving his nipple rings a tug and a smirk on my face. “You won’t shame me tonight. You look fine. Behave yourself, or I will have to punish you when we get home. You don’t want me to take you to “the room”, do you?”, I asked.

His eyes glowed and I knew he would act up on purpose, just to be taken to the room and I couldn’t wait. My pussy tingled in anticipation. We turned and walked into the club.

I told the person at the door that we were meeting some friends. My slave knew better than to question me and quietly followed me to our table. Sitting at our table was 6 attractive women.

I sat down and introduced myself to each one, taking careful note of how each were dressed, looked and behaved. They were all eager to please and it was hard to choose between them.

I finally settled on one that I thought was a little more arrogant than the rest of them, though I didn’t say anything just yet. After a couple of hours of partying, I told the girls that I would think about it and contact each of them with my decision. I stood up and all the girls, plus my slave; stood in humble positions.

We walked to the car and as we got to the door, I saw the one that was so arrogant. I decided right then and there, to knock that arrogance right out of her.

I told my slave to follow me and we quickly walked over to her vehicle. I called to her, just as she was putting the keys in to unlock the door. She turned, waiting for me to come to her.

This angered me, for she should have run to me. I grabbed her by the hair, before she had time to react and told her she was coming with me. She laughed haughtily, but the laugh was soon stopped, when she felt the point of my inch long knife in her side. Of course, she didn’t know it was that small.

The fear in her eyes, turned me on, like I had never felt before. I turned her around, holding her long hair and holding the knife on her. When we got to the car, I ordered my slave to put on his coat and drive us home. I got in the back with Miss Priss and put the coat over our seatbelts. I sat by the door and she sat in the middle and I had the other door convientently blocked off with a bunch of boxes, so she couldn’t escape.

At long last, we arrived home and I pulled her out of the car and practically dragged her inside. I ordered my slave to unlock the room to the door and she started trembling when she heard that.

She knew she was in for something, she just didn’t know what it was. When we get inside, my slave locks the door and looks at me, awaiting instructions. I tell him to strip her naked. She complies, because; looking around, she realizes there is no escape.

Her eyes widen as she surveys the room. All around are various instruments of sexual torture and various hooks on walls and the ceiling. In the middle of the room is a double bed, with 4 long posts. There are hooks all along the sides, head and foot boards.

After she is stripped naked, I grab her hair and pull her to the bed. I stand her by the side of it and she just looks at me. I roughly push her down onto it and she lands face down. Perfect!

I point my slave to stand on the other side of the bed and I am on the other. When he sees me start shackling her to the bed, he does the same. She starts begging me not to hurt her.

I take a band and tie her head to the bed, so that she can’t move it at all. I loosen the bonds on her legs, so that I can force her into a kneeling position, with her face, still on the bed. I tighten the bonds back, so that she can’t move them.

She is whimpering softly, but I see her pussy starting to glisten. I look over at my slave and his cock is dripping pre-cum. My own pussy is aching at the sight of the two of them, so excited. I can’t wait to begin the torture and breaking of her.

My slave lights a couple of candles and we turn out the lights. The room is sound proof so, we can make as much noise as we want to. I start lightly stroking her upturned asscheeks, pinching them roughly every now and then.

She gasps at the sudden change from pleasure to pain and then realizes the sensuality of pleasure/pain. She starts relaxing a little, til she feels something probing at her tight asshole. She tries to get away, but is helpless before the relentless probing.

Finally, with lots of lubrication, the strapon dildo that I’m wearing, which happened to be a double dildo. I inserted one end into my pussy and the other end into her ass. She groaned and then gasped at the sudden pleasure of it.

As I reamed her ass with the dildo, I asked her, “Bitch, does it feel good”? She refused to answer, so I took the whip and gave her ass a few good whacks. She cried out and I said, “Answer me when I talk to you, slut, or you’ll get more of the same!”

“Now, when I ask you a question, you always address me as Mistress. Is that understood?” She started to spout off and I motioned to my slave and he immediately stood before me. Head bowed, he asked, “Yes, Mistress, what can I do to please you?”

I reached out and grabbed his balls and roughly squeezed them. “My pet, I want you to go, untie her head and loosen her arms a little, til she’s up on her hands and knees. Then, tie her head to the bonds on her feet, so she can’t move her head. Then, take your huge cock and fuck her mouth until she submits to me. She will show her submission, by sinking down on the bed and bowing her head.”

His eyes lit up and eagerly he ran to do as I commanded. I don’t like to suck cocks and do it to him, only when he deserves a special treat, so this is a great surprise for him. Her eyes look pleadingly up to him as if begging him not to do it, but his desire to please me is much too strong and he thrusts his cock into her mouth.

As I watch him fucking her mouth, I continue fucking her ass with my strapon. After a few minutes of unrelentless double-fucking, she finally submits. I tell my slave to turn her over and tie her spread-eagled to the posts.

I look down and am greatly pleased to see her pussy dripping with moisture. I put a blindfold over her eyes and as I am still wearing the strapon, I start fucking her pussy with it. I motion to my slave and he again starts fucking her mouth. She is moaning over his cock and I motion for him to stop. He obediently pulls out and kneels beside me, awaiting more instructions.

I tell my slave to tie her to the chair that we have for this purpose. It is a high backed wooden chair, most uncomfortable. She is snugly tied to the chair, which has been placed by the bed. She has a good observation point from where she is sitting.

I tell my slave to lay on the bed and proceed to satisfy myself on his cock until I finally allow him to come all over her face and hair. She is not allowed satisfaction until she is trained more. But, she eagerly and willingly joined our little family and later I told my slave that I had set up the whole “kidnapping” in advance.



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February 22, 2008

The AC Guy

My childhood was not your normal, typical childhood. As most kids were chumming around with others, I ended up spending most of my time at home, or with my dad or uncles. Interestingly enough, I went a number of times with my dad to his favorite hangout; a friend of his operated a gas station that was frequented by truckers. So, by the age of 13, I had been exposed to every known word in the book, along with stealing some glances at the magazines that they had there. Seemed like some of them used used “fuck” for every other word coming out of their mouths. Needless to say, this left me with an idle curiosity of women as a whole.

As I grew older, my dad started taking me on jobs with him; he ran an air conditioning business on the side. One of his clients was the apartment complex next to the high school I was going to. I’d go with him on these jobs, helping him out with the ladders, installing Freon, swapping out compressors, etc. Occasionally, we’d have to go into the apartments to make sure that the air conditioner would kick on and cool down the apartments.

Well, one day there was a problem with the air conditioner in apartment #2301. Needless to say, since it was a saturday, I went with dad to help him. We’d went to the apartment manager’s office to get the work order, and then proceeded to the apartment. When we got there, we found that there was a leak on the roof, and that it would require only a small soldering job, along with filling up the unit with more Freon. After doing this, we went down to the apartment itself, and knocked on the door. A woman, I’d say in her late twenties, answered the door. We told her that we had worked on the air conditioner, and wanted to check to make sure that it was cooling her apartment. She invited us in, and let us go to the thermostat. My dad started to play with the controls, as I just scanned my eyes around the room. She seemed to be into computers, and music (which was my pastime; I was programming in three different languages, and enjoyed computer music/synthesizers). We started to get into a conversation, and then wouldn’t you know — dad said all looked okay and that we should go. As we were leaving, the girl gave me a slip of paper. Not thinking anything about it, I put it into my pocket.

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January 29, 2008

Betsy B. Bad

story categories: sex stories, femdomme, shaving, analsex

She was so hot. I just loved to look at her as she left her apartment. No matter when or for what reason she looked very sexy. She had the kind of body that just screamed ‘fuck me’. And that is what I wanted to do. She was kind of short but had those perfect legs that gave the illusion of going on forever. She had that long, thick hair that was just perfect to nuzzle in too.

I watched her every day, and I knew her habits. On weekday mornings she dressed in a short dress type suit. All stiff and business-like, the type that made men and women equal in the workplace. Later she would come home and change for jogging. She wore some tight sweat pants and amorphous shirts. Because she had some huge breasts she wore one of those tight jogging bras. Every day she came back all hot and sweaty making me really horny.

Some would say, “If you wanted her so much, why don’t you get her?” Well for sure I wanted to but she always seemed to have another guy. And did she go through them. She never had one for more than a few weeks, and I wanted to be more than that. That is why I watched and studied her for so long. I knew her ins and outs, including her favorite sex positions, via a telescope bought for the purpose. As a matter of fact I finally decided that I would confront her with my love as soon as I found out one last bit of information. I didn’t know her name. I vowed that when I got it, I would get her.

One day she did not follow the usually routine. She went out to work did not come home for her daily jog. I saw this as an excellent chance to figure out her name. I knew for sure that her name would be on her mail, which she usually picked up from her box before jogging. Inconspicuously I slipped down to the mail boxes. The apartment owner either was a trusting soul or cheap because the boxes did not have locks. Lucky for me! I glanced and saw no one around. I quickly popped open her box and scanned her letters. Finally I say what I had been waiting for. Among the letters to occupant I found one addressed to ‘Miss Betsy Bryant’. I am ready to make my move. I knew in my mind I was going to get this woman and I would start the next time I saw her.

About 4 o’clock the next day I saw Betsy getting her mail. I slipped out of the apartment and came up the road as if I was going to the apartments. I walked up to her and pretended to ask her the direction to a friend’s place. When she was about to answer I said,”Wait a minute? Aren’t you Betsey Byrant? Don’t you remember me? I’m Jim, from school.”

This had her thoroughly confused and I moved in for the kill. I rambled on about some made-up school career until she invited me to her place. I had never really seen her place except from the windows, and I was impressed. She had impeccable taste in decor that seems the mark of the successful woman.

After we got on the couch I admitted to really being her neighbor and used the school mate bit as a ploy to get in her apartment. Betsy was shocked and I was afraid that she would kick me out. Finally, at my urgings she cooled down, and admitted that she knew I was BSing her anyway. The she started spouting off info on me! She knew everything about me. Of course I was surprised. It turns out that she used the computer at work to find out about me when she noticed me spying on her.

“Well, I bet you don’t know my favorite sex position,” I finally said.

“I bet I can find out,” she said slyly.

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January 21, 2008

Weekend Overtime

With today’s new competitiveness in business, more and more hard work is going into our work weeks. Often I find myself working weekends in order to satisfy the need for additional work efforts. Recently, however, I was delighted by a turn of events which made this weekend requirement easier to take. Our company, like most, has be undergoing constant reorganization in an attempt to become more effective and with this comes the inevitable procession of changes in upper management. In addition the general age of my bosses had been declining. A recent change found me working for a good-looking woman about five years older than myself. I wondered how this was going to work out, and as you will learn it not only worked out great but has provided me with some of the most interesting work experiences in my life.

It all started, as I said, with my new boss. Jane was a good-looking dark-haired lady with nice tits and a great figure. While she looked nice she wore very conservative suits around the office and I did not think of her in especially carnal ways. Jane had brought with her a number of women who formed her inner circle, and while some of my peers thought this was a sign that the guys were going to get the shit jobs, I waited to see how things developed. Soon after Jane took over I received a number of interesting and sensitive assignments which were due in short time-frames. I was assigned one of Jane’s people to work for me and we began to work the project. Sue, the woman assigned to me, was a pretty, slim woman about 23, and while she wasn’t Bo Derrick she seemed to always to give off a very sexual aura which attracted me to her from the first. We ended up spending many evenings working on our project and I got to know Sue quite well. Sue had small firm breasts which she almost never covered with a bra and while her dress was never overtly sexy I found myself drawn to her and wondering how she would be in bed.

When the project was nearing completion the work effort intensified, and in addition to working nights, Sue and I were getting together on the weekends to complete the work on the required schedule. Sue invited me over to her house so we could work on the project in some more comfortable surroundings and since she was single I thought it would be nice. I arrived about 8:30 Saturday morning, Sue greeted me at her door wearing a short t-shirt nighty and apologizing for over-sleeping. I told her it was ok and how sexy she looked in her short nighty. Sue’s small firm tits were clearly visible under the thin white cotton and her nipples poked out against the fabric, making my cock get stiff.

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