Note to the reader: This story is based on actual events.
I don’t remember how we met her. All of a sudden all four of us were crowded around her at this little beach bar on a Friday night. It was spring break, and because we are at school in Florida none of us had headed home. Instead we hung around the shore clubs, looking to score out-of-town hotties who had come to the beach to unwind. Read more…
She stood over me silently for several minutes. Nothing is more terrifying than her silence. I knelt obediently, eyes downcast, unable to resist stealing glances at her through my peripheral vision. She is soooo beautiful. Standing tautly erect, her magnificent legs and tits, her regal air, drew every ounce of my energy toward her with irresistible magnetism. Her face, cast in fury, was so gorgeous I felt like my heart might explode from the sight. Read more…
INTRO: As one of the Magnificent Mistress Marquesa’s most favored slaves – so I’m told, and of course I pray that it is really true – I am privileged that I am allowed to perform many tasks in accordance with Her strict orders.
One of the tasks recently assigned to me by Mistress was to interview male submissives and record those interviews. Because I am just a lowly, stupid slave She allowed start by speaking to a submissive who served Mistress Racquel, the beautiful petite associate of the Marquesa. This meant that I didn’t have to seek out slaves in the normal commercial B&D clubs. Read more…
Armand sleeps comfortably and contentedly. Curled up in the fetal position and partly covered by a blanket, Goddess Marquesa’s pet derives the maximum use of an oval mattress lying on the bedroom floor at the foot of his Goddess’s bed, a location She judges a fit resting place for Her sleepy serfs. No, Armand isn’t hypnotized; he’s really and truly asleep, thoroughly exhausted from the sheer, unrelenting exhilaration and sexual highs he’d experienced at the hands of his Goddess three short hours earlier. Read more…
It all started because of a bad review. An influential local blogger had panned my gallery exhibition the day after it opened. “Ivan Griel’s paintings lack depth and vibrancy,” the post began, and went downhill from there. It was the first time anyone had said or written anything so negative about my work, and it flummoxed me. Read more…
