It was a typical late summer’s night in New York: sultry, hot and humid. It had just rained, but the night was clear now and the bright light of the Moon snuck down between the rooftops and kissed the glistening, wet streets. As the special limo carrying my most beloved, adored, and worshiped Mistress Marquesa and myself, Her submissive, pliant, obedient, pink lingerie clad slave/slut girl Danielle careened downtown, I could see that the city was indeed alive, despite the obtrusive heat and very late hour. Read more…
Tag: Pet
Clark was livid. Not that this was an unusual state for him to be in. Not at all. That was, ironically enough, really at the root of the current problem. Of course, with Clark, there was ALWAYS a problem, or a crisis or a situation, or SOMETHING that he (and ONLY he) could repair and set to right. This was because Clark was one of those self appointed “General Manager of the Universe” types who felt that no one else was really capable or competent enough to get the job done, and done right; whatever that job was. He was a stereotypical hard-charger who would never admit to meeting his match – even if he had! He was about to have his male ego’s perfect track record disrupted, however, and here is where our story begins. Here is where Clark’s reign as “Lord and Master of All He Surveys” would end, and he wouldn’t even know it. Read more…
I could feel my cock stiffen as Mistress Marquesa told me to come immediately to her quarters for an impromptu training session.
Ten minutes after I hung up the phone I was at her door with a fully hardened cock. As I expected, the Mistress immediately ordered me to the training room. Hoping to catch glimpses of her precious but forbidden panties, I gallantly offered to let her lead the way. However, she knew immediately my offer was not inspired by gallantry, and sternly directed me to proceed to the training room without further delay or foolishness. Read more…
“What is this?” I asked, sipping the scotch my date had just poured me as I perused the décor of her condo.
“That is where I display my special slaves,” she said from across the parlor, as she finished pouring a drink for herself.
Up until that point it had been a very good date, which for me is saying something. A man does not get to my age as a bachelor without racking up a lot of dating experience, and I had not been so turned on by someone I had just met for a very long time. The mention of “slaves” was the first warning sign I had encountered, and it made me turn, just to make sure I had heard her right. Doing so gave me another look at her gorgeous legs and shapely ass, as she faced away toward a sideboard that held her liquor and glassware. Read more…
Begin Transcription:
Day One
The woman holding me prisoner has commanded me to keep this journal. At first I refused on principle, but as there is little else to occupy me, and this record might prove useful to police and prosecutors when she is finally arrested and tried, I have decided to do so. I do not remember my name or how I came to be here. The mirror reveals me to be a man in his mid- to late-fifties, but my appearance provides few other clues to my identity. My only clothes are a hospital gown, though I do not think that I am in a hospital. Read more…
