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October 2, 2007

Not until after English

She stumbled out of bed to answer the shrilling phone, still half asleep. She barked her shins on a pile of notebooks on the floor. Across the room, her roommate groaned and rolled over in her sleep. She hurried a bit more to get the phone before waking her roommate up.

“Hello?” she asked sleepily.

“Morning,” came the reply. She recognized the voice of her master immediately.

“Hello, sir,” she said, and her voice had a much more submissive tone. “Why did you call me?” She wished she was at his apartment. So much better, to lie with him and awake with her small hands bound in a bondage belt, with the warmth of his body nearby and having the excuse of fetters to allow her to lie in bed.

“I want you to come to the dining hall and have breakfast with me. Also, I want you to wear a skirt today. Above the knee, I think. And your stockings and garter belt.”

“Why?”

“You’ll find out after English. You can wear flats if you want, but bring your heels along in a bag. Oh, and if you wear underwear, it has to be something that comes off easily. Wear your silk ones with the bows.”

“OK, sir,” she said, wondering inside what he meant. She would be glad in an hour for having eaten, but right now she wanted more than anything to crawl back into bed and sleep. She had half an hour before class. But she obeyed, wondering why all the while.

He was no more tractable at breakfast. He allowed her to get three bowls of Captain Crunch, something he usually forbade on the grounds that it was junk, but anytime she asked why he wanted her dressed that way he only answered, “You’ll find out after English.”

English. Short Story Writing, specifically. The last class she had on Fridays, the only one she had with him. So many times, that had been the last thing she did before spending a weekend in erotic submission to him. The simple thought made her belly turn over.

The whole day she was unable to keep her mind off it. What did he have planned? A weekend of submission? Maybe. But that was hardly uncommon. So why all the secrecy? And why the costuming? In classes, she found herself writing his name and WHY? WHY? WHY? on her notes. She tapped her feet incessantly and waited for the class to end. She supposed people were looking at her. She didn’t care.

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August 19, 2007

Sprite’s Slave Adventures

In retrospect, I should have known that his plans for the evening were more elaborate than he’d told me. They always are. But I went into it thinking that we were simply having dinner with a friend of his, a man he referred to as an excellent conversationalist and a ‘fun’ person.

I wore almost-normal clothes — a long skirt with high-heeled boots, scoop necked silk shirt with a pendant in the shape of his mark. My buttocks still tingled from the spanking he’d given me earlier, and I could feel a bruise swelling gently on my thigh where he’d bitten me. There was a certain extra thrill in feeling the aches and throbs in my body after he had done with me. I relished them as a secret thrill when people saw us together, for we were close friends and no one knew of the deeper relationship we shared.

The man he introduced to me as Orion was already seated in a booth at the restaurant when we arrived. He was tall and slim, with a stern countenance and icy grey eyes that thawed a little when he smiled. My master ordered for me, and this was my first clue that something was up. He ordered a light, easily digestible meal which alerted me to the fact that I would possibly need to be ready for action before long. Or he could simply be teasing me…

But no.

He and Orion chatted easily over their wine. I sat back and enjoyed the witty conversation, relishing the feel of my master’s leg against mine. He was not paying much attention to me, other than to smile at me occasionally or feed me a morsel of food from his plate. I began to relax, the wine making me feel mellow and a little sleepy.

Suddenly his head snapped around and when I looked into his eyes I knew the game was about to begin. Still, I was stunned when he slapped my face lightly and ordered me to go to the restroom and remove my underwear.

My face must have showed my amazement. How could he talk to me like this in front of Orion? No one knew of our relationship save my master and me, his slave. And now he was ordering me around in front of a man I had just met!

My hesitation seemed to anger Orion, because he leaned over the table and grabbed my face in his hands, squeezing my cheeks painfully. His eyes were frosty.

“Do you hesitate, little one? Most unwise.”

My head immobile, I looked pleadingly, shocked, at my master, but he met my frightened eyes with a glare. He wanted it this way!

As I left the table, I felt a tear slide down my cheek. It was a salt sister to the moisture between my legs.

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August 10, 2007

A bet lost and won

[full story is 3,902 words]

The whole week had been hot. Actually, the whole damn beginning of the summer had been hot. And now, a small vacation. 24 free hours. 24 free hours were going to be spent in a nice, clean, quiet, motel room. But, that was yet to come…

Kathy bound out the door toward the car. Naturally, being the gentleman I am, I opened her car door for her and took her bags. I carefully placed her luggage in the trunk and quickly got back into the driver’s seat. Although we both knew what lay ahead this weekend (sex), of course, casual small talk took over. We had known each other for about a year at this time. Sex became something to look forward to for both of us. But, we wanted to put a deliberate twist into our sex to liven things up. Quite a few subjects were tossed in the air and commented on as we drove to the motel. But, not much substance to the conversation could be recorded. Ultimately, like all conversations where some anxiety or anticipation is present, the topic we returned to often was the weather. And, ironically, it was an appropriate subject. It was hot. And, it wasn’t going to get any cooler.

Through the whole summer, we had exchanged letters. We often met on weekends and had frequent retreats to motels. Sometimes motels could wait, sometimes hotel rooms were paid for in haste with no real sleeping involved, and sometimes we bummed around Indianapolis first to highten the anticipation for what was to come. After each liason, our letters would often jump into the subject of sex–literally. One subject never connected to another. These discussions would often lead to fantasies that we would both someday like to bring to reality. Unknown to myself, one of those fantasies we discussed would soon be reality.

I was soon surprised. Our favorite cuisine for that summer was Korean and Chinese food. As we were sitting in a Chinese restaurant, Kathy casually dropped her plans right in my lap.

“So, Allan, are you up for tonight?”

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January 25, 2007

Anal Sex Circus

story categories: sex stories, spankings, vacation sex, analsex
[full story is 2,916 words]

Unlike so many of the bawdy houses of Amsterdam, the building bore no signs. In fact, as I stood in front of the chipped, black door marked #12, I almost thought it was all a practical joke. What did I know was that Hazraj, the strange Turk who, in drunken friendliness at the hotel bar, had insisted, “A whore’s a whore all over the world. You don’t need to visit Amsterdam for that. But…the Anal Sex Circus! There is not another anywhere.”

I rang the bell. Was this really the place — or was he having a joke at the expense of a white British tourist? When the door slowly opened, I realized that he was indeed a friend! Stepping into the interior of the townhouse, it was a though I had stepped through tent flaps and into the most opulent carnival ever.

There was actual sawdust on the floor. The air smelled of beer and popcorn. The big main room had concession stands where they were selling popcorn — delicately laced with hashish - and white cotton candy, also drugged. Beer and liquor were being sold by men in straw hats, red vests, and white striped shirts.

Garish rotary lights whirled a dizzy array of greens and reds into the air. Semi-nude women — black, Asian, and white — escorted the various men as they ate, drank, and laughed uproariously. In different languages, a barker in a derby hat shouted at the back of the room, “Hurry, hurry. Step right up! Come, Come, Come to the Anal Sex Circus!”

If the mad Turk Hazraj had not been so explicit in his description of the place, I don’t know what my reaction to this bizarre spectacle might have been. A beautiful Eurasian girl glided up to me. I ordered a cafe pousse at the bar. In American money, it cost me about $20. I was going to order one more for my “hostess” but reconsidered: “You wouldn’t drink, would you? Just water one of these plants with it.” I slipped her $20 cash instead. “Let’s call it a contribution to the continuing survival of horticulture.”

She dutifully explained the “play” at the Anal Sex Circus. After I finished the drink, I walked back to the back of the room where a man, dressed in imitation of an American carnival barker, guarded the entrance to the upstairs rooms. I bought two tickets ($100 each) which entitled me to see two “shows” of my choice. The tickets were actually more like plastic credit cards.

With insane calliope music blaring down the corridors of this two-story townhouse turned madhouse, I made my way upstairs. In the old carnival midways, you’d walk along seeing the posters for the midgets and fire eaters and freaks. You’d pay to go into the tent to actually see them perform. Here, there were rooms. On each gold-curtained door was a picture of the girl within.

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October 20, 2006

Mistress R and sluppy

[full story is 6,158 words]

I had never been an actual slave in “real life,” although I had had strong fantasies about being a slave for just about as long as I could remember. I have a very submissive nature, especially around someone who is able to bring out that side of me. This story is about a Mistress I served.

Mistress R. was my online Mistress. We had never actually met; we only corresponded through the email on a local BBS. All I knew about her was what I could read in her “bio.” She was 33 years old, 5′9″ tall and weighed 140 pounds. She was married and had red hair. Most of the other answers in her bio were normal enough, but under a question about personality types, she had selected “dominant.” Of course, with my submissive side, I had to write to her and explore just what she meant by that answer, and I was happy to learn that she liked to fantasize about being a Mistress. Based on this, we soon formed an online relationship with her as the Mistress and me as the slave. She made it very clear that since she was happily married this could never be anything more than “electronic play,” and I readily agreed. Right from the beginning she was very demanding. She remained totally in control and things seldom went the way I wished, but as I followed her orders (by myself, in front of the computer), I began to feel myself mentally coming under her control.

She began my training by telling me that as her slave, my body become her property. Just like I wouldn’t think of touching a Mistress without permission, she required me to ask for her permission and to follow certain rules she set forth before I was allowed to touch “her penis.” She ordered me to relieve her penis three times a day, but I was never allowed to even touch it if I was on any kind of furniture; I had to be kneeling or laying on the floor. This was very hard for me, since reading her letters or chatting with her or thinking about her made me very horny; it was hard to keep my hands off of her penis. I was required to send her a daily report once a day about how I had relieved her penis, how I had carried out any of her other orders, and describing my feelings to her.

Let me explain that although we never played in person, I tried to the best of my ability to obey her every command exactly as she wished, without complaint. I was not entirely successful, I think in part due to the fact that I probably needed her watching over me to insure total obedience. It was enough, though, to make me feel totally like her property. I was honest with her, so whenever I disobeyed or did not follow her orders, I told her so. Being an online computer relationship, I could have lied and she would never have known, but I think then I would have missed out on many of the feelings that came along with it. I really began to think and feel as if I were under her control.

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