Laura Klein and Jessica Lewis marched Paul to the large building with a sign in front reading Jane House - Girls' Hostel. Next to the doorway stood an eight foot tall stone statue of a woman. The stone lady stood proudly, with her hands in her sides and her chin raised high. Next to the statue was a golden nameplate on a stone pillar with large bold letters...
Constance Marchbank sat behind the large modern desk of the medical office. The room was decorated in a traditional style, rather like an old fashioned doctor's surgery. The Adam fireplace was the centrepiece of the room, giving it an easy and comfortable air. Mahogany bookcases surrounded the walls of the well-lit room, with a heavy pastel-shaded carpet co...
Not my usual fayre. Just a simple love story. * "I am only teasing you Emma, I really don't mind being on a public beach. The sunbeds aren't that bad and at least the males we have seen have been young." Emma turned lazily and looked at her friend. "I know, Claire. We are here for as long as we want, and William H. is not going to be here for another fiv...
This is story of extreme Femdom. Unless you are one of those (grown up) little boys that like, or think they would like, their bottoms to be severely strapped or caned, then this story is not for you! In fact it was written for one grown up little boy, who sincerely deserved this kind of treatment. It has no redeeming features or content. I sincerely sugges...
Tommy looked up, suddenly aware of a presence in front of him. He was still strapped to the slender punishment frame, although the young nurses had finished liberally applying unguents and liquids to his bottom and legs. Somehow, his tight confinement to the frame had seemed to give him comfort, some stability perhaps. He had seemed to be able to relax as...
Foreword This is not a story that will suit many of you. I therefore urge you not to read it, unless you are one of the very few people in the world who enjoy the extreme humiliation of young men at the hands of women. This story, along with others I have written, has no redeeming features for the uninitiated. So I beg you, don't read it. Don't vote and don...
A warm breeze blew in from the sea as Peter walked along the cobbled harbour causeway. The threadbare soles of his white yacht shoes did little to cushion the rough surface. He had walked over twenty miles since leaving the small pension where, for a few francs he had stayed the night. He reached into the pocket of his white trousers, which were already gru...