"Always..." Hec read from behind me, kissing my neck. I stood sipping coffee at our bedroom window, the stream turned to frost, and I etched lazy letters on the glass with my other hand. The whole process projected my mood: light and dreamy. Another silent Sunday morning. Well, except for Pete singing away on his swing. We were snowed-in but good, but I lo...
We sat around the dining table like a klatch of eclectic, existentialist wannabes. I laughed to myself as I looked from one to the other. Isadora sat at the head of the table. She changed from earlier, and tonight she was dressed in a rainbow assortment of veils-- 50 possibly, or maybe 200-- she was an elephantine woman after all. To my right was Hec, dres...
Elias had escaped his tormentors by drifting into unconsciousness. I was relieved. Every square inch of his body had been whipped. He had been fucked repeatedly in his mouth and his ass. And his cock had been abused until even a small breath on its head made him wince. With his tormentors in the other room resting up for the next punishment session, I stol...
The couch was lived-in. I like that about furniture-- one more thing I had in common with Hec, I presumed. We fidgeted our feet, scratched our crotches and chewed our lips. I took the lone candy cane from the box that sat between us and looked into Hec's eyes. Pete watched us both. Char had insisted we bring him down to watch us finish decorating the tree. I...
The following account of late 19th century sexual torment was taken from the journal of Daniel Nickels, the Captain of the brig Waccamaw during the Civil War. The journal was discovered hidden behind a wall during recent renovations at the Bellaire Plantation in Savannah, Georgia, where the Captain lived after the war. As the two tormentors stood at the...
The following account of late 19th century sexual torment was taken from the journal of Daniel Nickels, the Captain of the brig Waccamaw during the Civil War. The journal was discovered hidden behind a wall during recent renovations at the Bellaire Plantation in Savannah, Georgia, where the Captain lived after the war. I surveyed the chamber for the upcomi...
I watched as the Master continued pounding his massive cock into the young culprit's ass. Andrew had stopped comforting Elias with his gentle kisses and was now whimpering apologies into the boy's ear. Elias had collapsed into the boy's arms, leaving Andrew the arduous task of trying to remain standing while the Master slammed into his friend. Each thrust mo...
There is not sex in this first one! Sorry... more juicy stuff later. * I couldn't suppress a sigh as I pulled my hair back into a short ponytail. Eric and Kyle had been badgering me to go out with them for the past month, and as it did not look like they were going to let up at any point in the near future, I decided to just give in and get it over with. I...
Journal Entry: 09/29/2012 (The Club) I had been watching him for about an hour. Brown hair, hazel eyes, nice full lips, and a great ass sinfully covered in jeans. I was pretty sure he was straight, but it didn't matter, he was the perfect man for my depraved needs. All I needed, all I craved was to shove my cock up his ass whether he wanted it or not. And I...
The following account of late 19th century sexual torment was taken from the journal of Daniel Nickels, the Captain of the brig Waccamaw during the Civil War. The journal was discovered hidden behind a wall during recent renovations at the Bellaire Plantation in Savannah, Georgia, where the Captain lived after the war. As I listened to the tormentors in...