For this story, it may help to Understanding some terms and characters: Pamela, a femdom wife. That's me. I'm not like the male fantasy of a woman wearing leather and carrying a whip. I just prefer to be firmly in charge of sex. "Lickies" is what I call cunnilingus, and I expects a lot of lickies. I'm fond of hubby's penis, it is almost like a cherished pet...
Independence Day is a federal holiday in the United States commemorating the Declaration of Independence of the United States, on July 4, 1776. The Continental Congress declared that the 13 American colonies were no longer subject to the monarch of Britain and were now united, free, and independent states. It wasn't the Fourth of July yet, but Buck decided...
Thomas knew his jizz was trickling down his hazmat suit and his right glove was too sticky to touch anything of value, but he felt like he had to see this through. Stafford, Lara, Christine's roommate, was lying on her bed in some sort of a trance, ready to be mandhandled in any way his overlords had scheduled. He looked back at Christine. Her petite shape l...
My name is julie. I am a sissy CD that has been working in a brothel for years now. During the week I am a male teacher named Julian, but on week ends and vacations I am a sissy whore that is the property of the owner of the brothel, "Madame." My sister, Becca, also works in the brothel. Since I am a slave there, Madame has given me my own room. Madame has...
I wake up with the worst hangover, except I haven't drank since I had left college and I am now nearing my thirties. Something was definitely wrong here. I know it is cold, and I know I am naked. I'm lying down on a soft bed, probably the softest I've ever laid down on and I wonder if I'm dreaming. But no dreams are this real. I try to open my eyes and I s...
Chapter 7: The Marks Note: Thanks everyone for the support and feedback so far! All feedback is appreciated including CC - it helps me to become a better writer. ———— Astrid woke up with the driest mouth and a splitting headache. It felt like there was a tiny marching band in her head smashing symbols and banging drums. Oh Goddess she had drunk way t...
(This is a re-worked version of an earlier story, The Girl with the Limp) I undress, shower, dry myself, pull on a g-string, wrap myself in a white coat, go to the window, push it open and gaze down at the market place. The early morning air carries the faint odor of rotting garbage and benzene. Tuk-tuks and a multi-coloured jeepney bus wait for custom. Som...
As I stood in front of this beige-ish-gray brick building, I thought I was going to kill that bitch. If this rundown neighbourhood wasn't a clue I was in the wrong place, the nearly derelict building had to be. I knew the gender pill was too good to be true. Take a pill and the next morning you would wake up as the opposite gender. But still, I had hoped. Sa...
Late Summer, 1889 As the carriage rolled to a stop, Catherine Wright peered through its foggy windows, barely able to make out the tall, ionic pillars that marked the entrance to the country's finest museum. Even through the evening mist, she could she it: gleaming limestone, manicured lawns, and an ornate, wrought iron fence. With a curiosity not becom...
I had been fucked and i had loved it. I especially loved knowing that i had the female role instead of the male role, which was the normal one for me, historically. I loved being "beneath". I loved being the weaker of the two people. I loved being the repository instead of the one giving. I just loved the feelings of horniness and desire and need and then o...