#Literotica

I awoke gradually, heavy limbed, floating in the sort of whole body experience of deep relaxation that only ever, in my experience comes the morning after a bout of no-holds-barred sexual intensity; my thoughts were like melted chocolate, smooth and sweet and slow, my whole being languidly relaxed, luxuriating in a feeling of warmth and looseness that was like a welcome gift. But a gift for what? I lazily considered the question, while the answer formed, gradually impressing itself upon my drowsiness, the answer which, when it finally came, would astonish me, brazen in its clarity: last night, I had taken a big step towards becoming a company whore. [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 39 minutes; 8200 words

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'You have enormous capacity for intensity, desire, extremity – but this is either deeply suppressed, or perhaps, you are simply unaware of it – it having never been awakened.' [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 27 minutes; 5800 words

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Chloe is awakened by the door closing; it's morning, and someone has delivered her a little breakfast—croissants, hot chocolate, orange juice, on a pretty, ornate little metal tray with its own stand. She looks up, still mostly asleep, understands, slowly, that she is naked, in a strange bed, in a strange room; a luxurious, soft bed, in a beautiful, sun-filled room, well furnished with subdued antiques, overlooking lush greenery, countryside. But grand as all this is, she is aware, as she awakes more fully, of something, something huge … and then the memory of the previous night rushes over her, and she is gradually overtaken by a slow, powerful, suffocating panic attack, which has her clutching at the bedclothes around her convulsively as her heart rate accelerates, her breathing gets wilder and deeper, her belly begins to try to turn itself inside out, her legs rigid, cramping, her mind in turmoil. It can't be. It just cannot be! That … that she … that they … that he … [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 62 minutes; 13200 words

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I used to be called Timmy. Nowadays, I'm called anything that gets my attention (and I'm shamefully, pathetically attentive), usually something like 'pussy', 'cunt', or 'whore', but occasionally I do still get 'Timmy'. Often this is a sign that something really hard is coming—that I'm going to be asked for my consent to something further, some step further away from the fantasy that I could ever mean anything. Some step that will be agony to take, but which both I and whoever it is asking for it know that I will be helpless to resist. [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 39 minutes; 8200 words

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Now though, the experience of having been so comprehensively, selfishly and thoroughly used and abused by Karsh, of cooking for Karsh, all but naked, my ass alternately swatted and fondled at will, of being offered to Ninotsch like a party favour, all this had changed things. I knew, now, as a bodily experience, what it was to be in someone's power, to serve because you have no option, to be consumed by the need to serve well, to satisfy, from a place of subjugation, rather than from self-motivation - and what it was like not to be in a position to trust your own judgement - when a capricious master is the only judge that matters. [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 31 minutes; 6600 words

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Opening my eyes from sleep the next morning, I am hazy from the intensity and disturbing perversity of the dreams I've been having, from nights of broken sleep — but most of all by the bizarreness of waking up to process a reality stranger than dreams. I have somehow accepted — in my head at least (physically, nothing at all has changed; I've met him twice, he's hardly touched me) — that I have given myself over to the perverse desires of a virtual stranger. That I am in some sense his. [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 43 minutes; 9100 words

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An hour spent kneeling on the dining room table is an eternity for Chloe. [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 31 minutes; 6600 words

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