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Suou is a young lady of Malaysian descent, with dark chocolatey-brown skin, almond-shaped brown eye, and a short lean hourglass body. But her genetics are a little more complicated than that, gifting her with a head of long flowing blonde hair so pale it is almost pure white.

She walks through her husband’s house with a a sexy sashay of her hips; she had never lacked for boyfriends, but  even though he was almost twice her age, Godfrey had swept her off her feet from the first moment they met; they were married shorly after in a private little ceremony.

It was only after the wedding that she learned he is very, very, rich.

Also, he is widowed, with a grown daughter not much younger than her.

Suou stops before a door and braces herself, checking to see that her plain blue comfortable dress is set perfetly, then she raises her hand and knocks softly, half-hoping there is no answer.


Suou grabs the door handle and opens the door a fraction, “Angela, honey?” she calls. “Can I come in?”

Angela, lying on her bed in shorts and T-shirt with an open book in her lap, rolls her sea-green eyes and heaves a sigh. “Whatever.”

Suous opens the door and walks in, then closes it behind her. “Angela,” she says, sitting on the foot of her daughter-in-law’s bed. “Can we talk?”

Angela gives her a sullen look out from under her platinum-blonde bangs. “Sure.”

Suous clears her throat nervously: now she is in the dragon’s den. She never felt like so many things were at stake. “Angela,” she says. “I know that things are very. . . sudden, for you. . .”

Angela says nothing.

Suou goes on. “But I really do love your father, and I do want to be able to live with you.”

Angela gives her a shrug. “Fine,” she says. “You’re living here already.”

Suou takes a deep breath. It is not her Asian ancestors who speak through her now, but a more crass Occidental part of her speaking out bluntly: “Angela,” she says. “You don’t trust me.”

Angela blinks at her, surprised by the bluntness of that statement.

“And as long as you don’t trust me, you and I cannot have a relationship,” Suou’s western half keeps on. “And I really do want to have a relationship with you.” She draws a deep breath, and lets it out. “And I think I know how I can show you that you an trust me.”

Angela stares at her, somewhat shocked. “How?” she gets out.

Suous pulls her left hand out from behind her back, where she had been holding it the whole time, and shows Angela a handful of cords and scarves. “Tie me up,” she says.

Angela’s eyes go wide, the book falling from her limp fingers. “What?!”

“Tie me up.” Suou drops the cords and scarves by Anmgela’s hands, then turns her body away from Angela, and puts her hands together behind her back. Suou looks over her shoulder at Angela, meeting the younger maiden’s shocked eyes with her frank ones. “Do it.”

Very slowly, unable to break away from Suou’s gaze, Angela sits up, and with one trambling hand, she picks up the coil of cord. She turns to put her feet over the side of the bed and scoots over to sit beside Suou.

“That’s right,” Suou says as Angela wraps the cord around her wrists. “Make it as tight as you want.”

With a sudden surge of bitterness, angela pulls the cord very tight, making Suou gasp as it bites into the soft skin of her wrist. Angela expected Suou to shout at her to loosen it, but despite her obvious distress, her mother-in-law doesn’t. Feeling slightly ashamed, Angela loosens the cord a bit, then ties it off.

Suou watches over her shoulder as Angela does all this. “There,” she says. “now, put your arms around me.”

Looking as if in a trance, too shocked by the turn of events to disobey, Angela puts her left arm around Suou’s shoulders.

Suou leans close against Angela. “You see?” Suou says softly to her. “You are in control; I trsut you, Angela. I trust you completely, and you can trust me.”

Angela takes a deep breath, then lets it out, and slowly, her body starts to untense, her soft body mating to Suou’s body. She giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Suous asks, glancing at her.

“Nothing!” Angela says with another giggle, then hiccups. “Say, do you want to be untied, now?” she says, to change the subject.

“Only if you want to,” Suou says.

Angela lets go of Suou, who sits up straight again to let Angela reach her bound wrists.

“Now,” says Suou as Angela pulls the cord away. She rubs her wrists, which both are now discolored by narrow lines left by the cords. She turns to Angela. “Will you let me tie you up?”

Angela stares at her, shocked once more. “What?”

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t,” Suou says earnestly. “But I want to show you that you can trust me.”

Angela sits, frozen with indecision for a long moment, then, unable to get any words out, she turns away from Suou and puts her hands together behind her back.

Suou wraps the cord firmly around Angela’s wrists, then pulls the ends of the cord between her wrists to cinch it tighter, then she ties it off. “Wait,” she says softly to Angela as she starts to tug at the cord binding her.

Suous picks up the other piece of cord, then slides off the bed to kneel on the floor before Angela: se takes Angela’s bare feet and puts them together. Angela obediently holds them like that while Suou ties the cord around her ankles, careful not to let it dig into her skin.

Suou sits back on the bed beside Angela and pulls her close, wrapping her arms around Angela. “You’re fine,” she says softly, hugging Angela tightly. “I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you. . .”

Angela closes her eyes, letting her head fall on Suou’s shoulder, and she sighs softly, a little smile tugging at her lips.

Still holding Angela in one arm, Suou reaches behind her with her other and snags up a long black scarf. “Hold still,” she says, pulling it across Angela’s eyes.

“What-” Angela exclaims, her sight suddenly cut off.

“Shhh,” Suou hushes her. “I’s alright.”

Angela acquiesces and lets Suou pull the ends of the scarf behind her head and tie them off.

Suou turns and pulls Angela back onto the bed, laying them both so they both lieon the bed, side by side, their bodies pressed close together. “There now,” Suou says, putting her arms around Angela once more. “You’re safe: I promise you, you are just fine.”

Angela says nothing, her breasts rising and falling slowly as she breathes, deep and easy.

There are two scarves left, and Suou grabs them up in her left hand, still holding Angela wrapped in her right arm. She balls one of the scarves up, deep blue picked out with gold stars. “Open your mouth, please,” she says.

As if understanding what was coming, Angela opens her mouth wide and lets Suou slip the wadded-up cloth between her lips and into her mouth; Suou grabs the last scarf, a bright pink one with a floral pattern, and pulls it between Angela’s teeth. She pulls it tight, but not too tight so it won’t hurt the corners of Angela’s mouth, and ties it off behind her head.

“Mhmm?” Angela murmurs, a little worriedly, as Suou shifts position.

“Don’t worry,” Suou says softly to her. “I’m right here.” She wraps both her arms around Angela and holds her close, squeezing their soft warm bodies together. “I’m not going to leave you, and I’ll untie you anytime you want to. I promise.”

“Mhmmm. . .” Angela murmurs, resting her head on Suou’s shoulder.

Suou chuckles, then leans down and gives Angela a kiss on the cheek.
1,001 Bondage Nights 67

I had this prompt sitting around on my computer for years, and today I did something about it; I have a sequel to this planned, but it is novellength, so it'll be while.

Previous:… Next:

This is my current project, 1,001 bondage stories. See them all here:…

Anyone who donates a few points… to help me finish it will get a feature.

If you have any suggestions for a story, or anything you'd like to see, tell me.

This story made possible in part by a generous donation of points from hiddenlotus555

Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes)
So, I offered to write a story for a young lady I know who goes by the handle 'Kaatryn'; I wrote one part to it and then life interfered with continuing. She wrote to me:


Might I enquire ask to what you plan to do with little miss Yurika?


Well, first I'll make her strip naked, then gag her with her own socks. After that is done, I plan to to bind her hands together behind her head, and tie them to a strict crotch rope. Then I will put a noose around her neck and pull it taut until she teeters on her toes. I'll frog-tie her left leg so she can barely save herself from strangling, then whip her a few times on her ass and breasts. When those are all nice and red, I'll take a vibrator and slip under the crotch rope and force her to cum a few times.

By that time, I expect Kaatryn and Rin will be getting pretty hot themselves: I'll make them strip, then frog-tie both of them, give each of them a reverse prayer tie, then blindfold them and give them both ring gags.

While they're struggling in their bonds, I'll let Yuri down and untie her; I'll blindfold and ring gag her too, then stick her hands through the noose and pull it taut, forcing her to bend over at the waist then force her feet into a spreader bar.

I'll grab Kaatryn and  force her mouth into Yurika's exposed pussy, then I'll take her hair and tie it to Yurika's long hair to hold her there. While she's so entertained, I'll drag Rin over and force her succulent lips to Yurika's, and let them play with each other's tongues, testing and tasting each other. When all three are hot and bothered, I'll give the two sisters a pair of radio-controlled vibrators, then whip them a few times and make them bring Yurika off.

And when they've done that, I'll invite Ella over to explore her Domme side and have a little fun with them.

Sound fair to you?


Holy crap.... I forgot how crazy you can be sometimes pw...


Good-crazy, bad-crazy, or just-freaky-crazy?


Hmmmmm, all of the above!!!
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes)
So there's a lady I know named Jelle who I really like, as a writer and as a person.

At one point, she wanted some ideas for a story she is writing, and posted a journal asking

'what would you do to a ninja you capture as she tries to assassinate you?'

So I replied. . .

I would strip her naked, then tie her to a heavy wooden chair without arms; I'd pull her arms behind the back of the chair; I'd jerk her elbows painfully, forcing them to touch, pulling her shoulders back and forcing her breasts out, then bind her arms together with rope, wrapped from her wrists to her elbows.

I'd spread her legs wide, bind her knees to the front corners of the chair, forcing her feet back and bind them to the rear legs of the chair; I'd gag her, but I wouldn't blindfold her. Not yet.

I'd sit on her, straddling her body with my legs, and I'd stare into her pale face, watching her eyes as the full force of her situation strikes her - the realization that she is completely helpless, that her freedom, her very life, rests entirely ion my hands.

I would smile at her, and she would realize that I can see her thought, and she would whimper helplessly as I raise my hands and close off her nose.

I would watch her as she turns from white to red, then darker: she would twitch and squirm as her breath runs out, struggling against her bonds, but she would still lie pinned, helpless in her bonds and beneath my weight.

I would watch as her face grows darker still, feeling her struggle and squirm beneath me, her eyes rolling back in her head as the last of her air runs out. Then, finally, as the last of her air is gone, her eyes would close. . .

Then I'd jerk my hand away and she'd take a deep gulp of fresh air, coughing and gasping as it rolls down into her starved lungs. I'd smile again and say: "You're not getting off that easy, girl; the fun is just beginning. . ."


that's quite long :3


I'm just getting started: after playing with her breasts a little bit, I'd untie her legs from the chair, then force her to stand and drag her to a large trough of water I'd have placed at hand beforehand. I'd force her to stand before it, standing behind her with a strong grip on her hair. I'd pull her close, putting my lips to her ear. "Make a wish," I'd whisper, then force her head down into the water.

I'd hold her down, delighting in her useless struggles, loving the feel of her tight naked ass grinding against me. Then, when I thought she'd had enough, I'd take her out again. I'd smile at her coughing and gasping for air, then I'd untie her gag and let her spit it out. Of course, she'd beg and plead for mercy, but I'd only laugh at her, then force her over the edge of the trough again.

But I wouldn't put her in the water; not yet. Instead, I'd pull open my pants and let my cock spring out; I'd rub it between her thighs, then press the tip of it against her tight little rear entrance. Doubtless, she'd have some screaming and crying to do, and I'd enjoy it before shoving her back down into the water.

As she goes under, I'd press my cock into her little asshole, then simply wait: before long, she wold struggle to rise,  squirming helplessly in her bonds and my hands: of course, there'd be no escape: but as she struggles and wriggles, she'd be fucking me, moving herself up and down my cock like she craved it.

Before she died, I'd let her up, and let her cough and gasp for air again. I'd smile at her(she couldn't see it, but she'd know I am smiling, gloating over her) then force her down into the water once more until I came in her ass, until she would almost wish she could die rather than live with the humiliation.

When I was finally done, when I'd had enough, I'd push her under one last time and just hold her there, enjoying her futile struggles while they lasted until she went limp.

Then I'd pull her out and throw her to the floor; with a final spark of life left, she'd gap for air, then before her consciousness went blank, she'd hear my laughter in her ears: "There's no escape girlie: next comes the fun bit!"


I have a bit of swimming planed for her


Yeah, well, her swimming lessons will have to wait, because before long, she'd find herself back in he chair, her bound arms over the back of it, her legs spread wide open like they were before; once more, she'd be gagged with her mouth stuffed, a tight cleave gag holding it in, pulling painfully at the corners of her mouth. No doubt worries and fears would flit through her ind as she gradually comes back to consciousness, finding herself like that. She look up to see me watching her with a grin, a small black bag in my hands.

I'd sit in her lap, my legs straddling hers, staring closely into her worried, fearful eyes. "Rise and shine, sunshine!" I'd say, then give her a quick kiss on her gagged lips, pinching her nipples as I do so, squeezing and kneading her breasts between my fingers. Against her will, she'd grow excited, her nipples hardening with arousal, then without warning I'd break it off and slip the bag over her head.

This would not be a plastic bag like we have today, but tightly-woven silk or linen; it would let a tiny amount of air pass through the close-set weave, just enough to prolong her suffering as it grows hotter and stuffier around her. Blindly she'd shake her head and moan, but I'd wrap a cord around her neck and pull it tight around the bottom of the bag. . .

Helplessly, she'd shake and moan, fighting to shake off the bag, to breathe, almost killing herself trying to draw in enough air through the tight weave, and I'd be there to enjoy every moment of it, pawing and pinching her breasts, sliding one hand down between her legs to rub at her slit, slipping a few fingers inside of her to rub at her clit and make her moans rise with helpless pleasure.

In the bag her vision would already be dark, but as her air rapidly fades away it would turn red as she struggled against the pleasure, her panicked breaths going faster as her helpless gagged cries rose with pleasure and despair, shuddering and screaming, she'd come to an agonizing climax as the last of her air is gone and everything goes dark. . .

But even as she faded away, she'd know that I wouldn't let her go: she'd wake up, and when she awoke, she'd be bound for something even more.


I think about something similar with a leather hood


-which is exactly what she'd wake up wearing: a heavy leather hood to keep her blind. Expertly fitted, it would stick to her face like a second skin, only two little holes for her to breathe through, and a hole in the back for her hair to fall down across her shoulders and bare back.

She'd awaken sitting in the chair, still with her arms bound, but her legs free(if the word free can be applied to her at all) At first she'd only notice that her nipples ached, little different from the rest of her, then I'd jerk on the lash and she'd whimper into her gag as the leash jerked on the nipple clamps she'd be wearing.


[Mhmm, sounds good


Good, but unfinished; the dratted thing posted before I was done!

Minor aside: looking back at the comments other people have left, I notice mine are a lot longer and more detailed; not hard to see who the writer is, is it?


lol, indeed not hard to see ]


Dratted thing posted before I was finished!

Blind, almost deafened by the tight hood that covered her ears, she'd have no choice but to follow blindly where I led her; she'd hear through the hood the shouts and echoes of the grand house she'd passed through on her way to kill me; now beneath her hood she'd blush with embarrassment and shame as she feels the stares and lustful eyes of the people there on her naked helpless body.

I'd lead her out of the house into the busy street where she'd be plainly visible for all to see; no doubt she'd stop in the doorway, moaning and whimpering into her gag, shaking her head desperately, pleading with me for mercy, but I would show her none: pulling at the leash and nipple clamps until she was forced to follow or lose her nipples, she'd be forced out the door and down the steps into the muddy street.

I'd lead her down the street, gaining a lustful following of men(and women) eager to see what I'd do with her. What I'd do with her, to start with at least, is force her to walk through puddles of mud and filth in the street and gleefully watch her as she blindly struggles for balance. Doubtless she'd soon slip and fall in the muck, the filth covering her naked body, and she'd slip and slide on her bare feet, trying to rise up before I tore her nipples off.

All too soon, though, our trip would end, and she'd soon wish she could only have taken longer, because I force her up the steps of a gallows; she'd realize, too late, where she was brought to and struggle and scream, crying helplessly, begging for mercy, but all she'd get is a whipping on her naked ass to force her up the stairs onto the gallows trap-door.

She'd tremble and cry as I lowered the noose over her head and  pulled the noose tight around her neck. I'd be sure the rope was pulled taut so she'd have to stand on her toes: if she drops to her heels, the rope will tighten that tiny amount that is too much for her and she'll slowly strangle, so she'll force herself up on her toes, her legs trembling from muscle fatigue as I make sure of all her bonds, tightening them an extra measure, forcing her elbows that little bit closer together, pulling her shoulders a little bit further back, closing the rope a little bit tighter around her wrists to make them turn red with blood flow loss.

Finally done, I'd unhook the leash from the chain connecting her nipple clamps; by then, she'd be hanging her head, weeping helplessly, praying only for her torment to end.

I'd reach out and grasp her clamped nipples, making her whimper and moan as I pulled on them, quivering helplessly in her tight bonds. "I'm not going to hang you," I'd say to her. "I'm going to leave you like this for anyone to come and do whatever they want with you; torture you, fuck you, hang you; the trap-door switch is ready to hand. So if you don't want to die, you'd better make sure everyone is real happy with your performance!"

She moan and tremble, shaking her head, but I'd only laugh at her.

"If you're still alive tomorrow morning," I'd say then, "then I'll send you back where you came from."

Then with that tiny gleam of hope, which is more torturous than the blackest despair, I'd give her a kiss on her gagged leathern lips, then turn and walk away with a laugh, leaving her to the first of a crowd of thousands, all eager to have their way with her helpless naked body.


sounds good, but the captor i have planned is a bit to greedy to share


Ah, but think of what I'll come back to tomorrow: to see her standing on the gallows, her pale body a network of whipmarks, her breasts mauled, her ass hot and red from the spankings, drying cum and sweat and other fluids splattered across her; she'd barely stand on trembling ankles, moments away from strangling even as I approach, her mind dead, blank, consumed with pain and horror and despite herself, almost endless pleasure across a night of hell while I lay all night comfortable and warm.

She would tremble, cold and exhausted and fearful, broken in body and spirit. 

Even the greediest of captors couldn't help but be warmed by the sight!


Maybe, juuust maybe


Just think of the look on her face after I'd release her from her hood; red, flushed, streaked with tears and sweat and snot from her long hellish night. Exhausted physically and mentally, she could offer no resistance as I unbind her, then rebind her for whatever purpose I please.

Perhaps I would go for something simple, binding her hands and feet, then carrying her away to my bed; I could prop her up between my legs and take a hold of her hair, then use her mouth to my heart's content. Once contented, I could simply pull the covers over and use her body like a hot water bottle; doubtless, she would be grateful for even the slightest comfort of the bed, and fall into a deep grateful sleep, well on her way to becoming my brainwashed toy.

Or, perhaps I could tightly bind her, arms and legs bent together in an impossibly-tight hogtie, then use her soft flesh for a warm pillow.

Perhaps more: I might pup-tie her down on her elbows and knees, put a collar around her neck and lead her about by a leash; I would sit in a chair and make my new little pet lick my balls for her supper before locking her away for the night in her own little cage.

Or perhaps I could really break out the leather: bind her inescapably from head to toe in tight leather; armbinder, hood, leather catsuit, tall boots, skin-tight from crown to heel, covering every inch of her in a firm hard leather except for the tits, pussy, and mouth I'd leave for my own use; I could fill her mouth with all manner of things, from foul-tasting herbs, a ballgag, a ring gag because I love to hear her moan and see her drool, my own cock. . . So many options! While her breasts would be bare and open, her nipples fair game to my pinching fingers and cruel clamps.

I could toy and play with her helpless body, making her moan with pleasure, driving her almost to the point of orgasm, then let her fall down again. Then again, closer and closer, almost to the peak of pleasure before abandoning her. I could bind my leather slave to a rack and leave her there, helpless, hurting, pleasure-starved, locked in sensory deprivation, begging and moaning for my touch.


I have some pet and pillow play planned and a bit of it done already


Cool. Will I get to see it anytime soon?


Progress is a tad slow atm, i plan on working more on ot today
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes)
It would be nice if we could just talk, I thought to myself.

But talking was really not on the agenda today.

Sam, my bitch, sidled over with that sexy sway of her hips that I love and squirmed into my lap, her naked breasts thrust out proudly as she put her hands on my shoulders. “Hi,” she said and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I love you.”

I heaved a sigh, and kissed her back. “I love you, too,” I said.

With that pretty little giggle of hers that I love so much, she pressed her naked body against mine, putting her arms together behind her back. Her pert round breasts brushed against my chest and she looked up at me with a pretty little pout.

I reached around her bare body with my arms and grabbed hold oher own arms, slipping a pair of handcuffs around her wrists.

Sam shivered with pleasure as they locked shut with a double click, then a wide smile passed over her lips. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. Sam was gone, no sign of her clever intellect remained in those fiery eyes, and only the bitch remained. She parted her rose-red lips and slowly ran her tongue hungrily over the, staring up at me with a lustful glance.

I reached up and petted her head. Good girl,” I said; she purred, rubbing her head against my hand.

“Down, girl!” I said, pressing her down: she slid off of my lap to the floor, dropping to her knees and glancing up at me submissively.

I slid open my pants and let my half-erect cock spring out; Sam’s eyes locked on it and she trembled, eager to spring on it and taste it and swallow it whole, but she was too well-trained to move without permission.

I waited a long moment, then snapped my fingers. “Okay, girl!’

With an eager cry, Sam leaned forward and  ran her tongue over the tip of my cock, lovingly wrapping her lips around the hard shaft.

I moan as she runs her lips down my manhood, sucking and licking it eagerly. There’s nothing wrong with it; she loves it; and really, I have nothin to complain about, but I would like to be able to have vanilla sex with my wife once in a while.
1,001 Bondage Nights 66

It's been a while. Just today I had a bit of a writing itch and re-opened the series. Maybe I'll keep going, but too many plans of mine have failed recently to promise anything.

Previous:… Next:…

This is my current project, 1,001 bondage stories. See them all here:…

Anyone who donates a few points… to help me finish it will get a feature.

If you have any suggestions for a story, or anything you’d like to see, please tell me.

Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes)
Michael (pronounced Mee-Ha-el) walks down the street with a little bounce in her step.

About 5 feet tall, with pale skin and short black curls framing a round open face shine in the bright sunlight. well built with firm breasts, a narrow waist and wide hips. Wearing her favorite blue dress, that clings to her every curve and shows her breasts very well, she fairly skips down with street with a smile, on the way to see her boyfriend, the hem of her skirt flapping around her bare knees.

As she walks by an open doorway, someone darts out and grabs her from behind, slapping a hand across Michael’s mouth. “Mhmph!” she cries out, startled, her eyes wide with alarm, raising her hands to try to pull away her attacker’s hand. A taser appears in her attacker’s other hand, then everything goes dark.


Michael slowly became aware of a terrible ache in her arms, of a pounding pain in her hands. Whimpering softly, she slowly opens her eyes.

She hangs by her hands from something above her; raising her head, Michael sees she is in a rather plain apartment; red-and-brown wallpaper, cheap furniture, it could have been anywhere in the city. Or, for that matter, she thinks with a thrill of fear, anywhere outside of it.

Sh gets her feet under her, moaning pitiably as the weight comes off of her hands. She raises her eyes, looking above her head to see her hands bound, the rope rising up to run through a hook in the ceiling and from there down to a stanchion on the wall.

Standing beside the stanchion is Rachel.

“Rachel?!” Michael cries, surprise and shock shining in her eyes. they’d gone to school together, but hadn’t seen each other since - what-

Rachel stands a little shorter than Michael, and is thinner, and lighter. But her arms are tight with muscle, and herbrown eyes shine with a sort of tough determination. She wears black leather pants tucked into high-heeled boots of he same, and a short-sleeved leather shirt open down the front to bare most of her cleavage, her long brown hair tumbles down her back and her eyebrows are arched amusedly  “Hello, Mikayl,” Rachel says, walking toward her suspended prisoner. “Have a good night?”

“Rachel- what- please let me down!”Michael pleads.

“Hmm,” Rachel says, putting her hand to her chin in a pantomime of thought. “Let me think. . . no.”

“Why?” Michael cries out.

“Because I’m going to torture you, then keep you for my slave,” Rachel says with a grin.

Michael stares at her old mate, dumbfounded. “Why?” she gasps. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” Michael wails.

Rachel stops and glances at her. “You didn’t do anything, Mikayl: you are blameless; there is nothing you could have done or not done to avoid this; you’re here because I picked you.” She reaches out with her left hand and grabs a handful of Michael’s dress at the back. “Hold still,” she orders as Michael tries to turn around to see what Rachel is doing.

“What are you-” Michael begins, then Rachel jerks hard on the soft blue cloth, tearing it away, baring all of her back. “Why are you doing this?!” Michael cries, tears pouriong from her eyes.

“You should learn very quickly,” Rachel says, picking up a short whip in her right hand. “That you should never ask that question of your mistress, slave.” Michael weeps as Rachel lifts her whip high, then brings it down on Michael’s back.




“No! Please!” Michael squeals, squirming in her bonds, trying to twist away from Rachel and her




“Go ahead and scream, slave!” Rachel says with al augh as Michael weeps. “There’s nobody to hear you, and even if they did - I own the building!”

SNAP! her whip goes again

Her blue eyes clouded with tears, Michael collapses, her weight going once again on the rope tied around her wrists, making her cry out in pain as if Rachel had whipped her again.

Rachel walks about in front of Michael and slips the point of her whip beneath her chin. Weeping, Michael is forced to meet Rachel’s eye as she raises the whip, pushing her chin up. “That wasn’t punishment,” Rachel says, as if that makes everything better. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you’ve been a good girl. And now it’s time to be a better one.” She lets Michael’s face drop, then turns away and walks to the rope tiethat holds her captive up. Rachel unties the rope, then takes hold of it to keep Michael from falling. She slowly lowers Michael to the floor, then drops the end of the rope and struts over to Micahel, who lies on the floor, weeping, disconsolate.

Rachel reaches down and grabs Michael by the arm, then pulls her to her knees. grabbing the rope, she pulls Michael’s hands behind her back and ties them together. “You be a good girl; stay there, now!’

Michael stares up at her captor, her cheeks streaked with tears. “What are you gonna do?” she whimpers.

“Me? Nothing,” Rachel says, standing over Michael. She reaches down and grabs the front of Michael’s dress and pulls it down, baring her pale pert breasts to the bright light. “Now, why did you hide those?’ she asked admonishingly. “They’re veyr nice; they should be out for everyone to see!”

Michael cried helplessly as Rachel reached down again and toyed with her breasts, squeezing and kneading her soft flesh between the mad catpor’s fingers. Michael’s cries turn to wails as Rachel pinches her nipples, grinning at her slave’s cries.

Rachel lets go of Michael’s breasts and straightens up again. “Like I said,” she says, sliding her hands down to her belt. “I’m not gonna do anything.” She pulls open her pants, baring her shaven pussy to sight. Still smiling, she reaches down with her right hand and grabs a handful up Michael’s hair. “Come here, girl,” she says. “Be a very good girl!’

Michael cries helplessly as her new mistress forces her lips against her pussy lips.
M1: The New Little Slave
A rough little piece I wrote in 36 minutes inspired by a pulp cover.

Michael will certainly be back for more stories, though when and for how long I can't say.


John Mahler
I am a 'serious' writer, trying to get my serious work published. I also like to write pornography, particularly BDSM.

Well, some people watch my other account for the porn, while others watch me for my 'serious' literature, so I decided to make this new account for my porn.

I do commissions, trades, and requests(if I think they're interesting).

Current Residence: Israel
Favourite genre of music: Practically Anything
MP3 player of choice: iPod mini
Shell of choice: Conch
Skin of choice: Freckled
Spies is reposted to my new account J-B-Hickock I'm doing Foxy Lady next.

Journal History

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Bunnytam Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2014
Tanks for the Fave! ^,,^
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Happy Birthday !!
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Happy Birthday! :)
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Hope you're having an awesome birthday, you deserve it!
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Happy birthday.
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Happy birthday :cake: :party:
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Thank You for the +fav  :)
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thanks for the bday wish
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Thanks for the fave!
ugiel Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank You a lot for watching :)
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Thank you for the many :+fav:s, John!
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Thank you for the Llama!  It stinks that I can't give you another one! :iconllamaavalancheplz:
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Thanks for all your +fav 
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Thanks for watch
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Thanks for fave !
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Thank you for the fav
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thanks for the faves :D (Big Grin)
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