Show your Lines

“the following is part of a recurring dream I had over a several weeks period of time. After dreaming the same thing more than twice I began writing down what I remembered in the mornings when I awoke. This is only a first part of the dream. If I get enough positive respond for the rest of the dream, I will post them simultaneously. So please feel free to give me your honest opinion”

Jumping out of the shower, I grabbed a towel and ran to grab the phone.

“Hello” I said breathlessly, water dripping from my hair (more…)

“Cholet, come and sit by me” he called softly.

She turned to face him, his eyes bright and that tender loving smile across his face and moved to kneel at his side. His hand dropped to the side and lightly ran through her long thick red hair. He loved her hair; he loved to touch it and knew she felt it. It was like her hair had nerves and every touch would make her tingle all over. She sighed quietly and tilted her head into his palm. She closed her eyes, completely absorbed in his presence, knowing she was his for as long as he wanted her. (more…)

Slave’s head felt like it was caught in a steel vice. Mistress had him in a headscissors, her bodybuilder’s thighs wrapped around his skull from behind as she sat on the couch of her bedroom, the knee-high black leather boots she wore locked at the ankles. She was scissoring him hard, pulsing the massive, 30-inch thighs on his head, and slave whimpered like a stuck pig.

“Say it, headscissor slave,” Mistress growled, holding the seat cushions of the couch in her fists. “Say it!”

“Please, Mistress….may I … have…another?” slave squeaked. (more…)

Remarkably, I had some free time on a Friday night, and even more remarkably, so did you. How often does that happen? Even more appealing, Sal was out of town, and I had the apartment to myself. I settle into the couch, remote control in one hand and beer in the other, enjoying this brief moment of freedom.

A few moments later, there’s a knock on my door. It’s you, decked out in your pinstripe suit, back from court and the office. I open the door, give you a kiss, and get back to the couch — the Simpsons is starting! — not really hearing whatever it was that you said to me. You put your bag down, walk over, and say it again. (more…)

It promised to be a hard evening. My client was a newcomer, and I always have some feelings of trepidation before meeting a new client, after all it’s impossible to really analyse someone completely, over the phone, and the phone is how I get most of my clients.

This one said his name was Jim, he claimed that he wanted to be my slave. He said he was experienced and prepared for all the punishment and humiliation I could hand out. All of which may be true, but until I get a slave in my own hands, I never know whether they can cope with me. (more…)

It was a cool, violet evening in late September. The glow from the fireplace lit the living room in a feverish crimson glow as the branches from the old oak tree delicately brushed their tips over the front window. I sipped my wine slowly, relishing its tangy flavor.

At precisely 9:30 pm, the doorbell chimed. A deliberate smile played across my lips as I rose to greet my guest, pleased at his punctuality.

I opened the front door and there he stood, impeccably groomed as usual, with his dark hair neatly styled, pale face smoothly and freshly shaven, and smelling lightly of Burberry for men, the cologne he knew I especially enjoyed on him. In his arms he held a large rectangular box, elegantly wrapped in blue paper with a silver bow fixed to it. (more…)