Caged Heat: My Slave’s Pierced Surrender
The living room dims as I slam the door. Heart thuds heavy. She’s there, my bitch, curled in the steel cage. Midday punishment for her slip-up. Pierced tits strain against bars, nipples ringed with heavy…
The living room dims as I slam the door. Heart thuds heavy. She’s there, my bitch, curled in the steel cage. Midday punishment for her slip-up. Pierced tits strain against bars, nipples ringed with heavy…
Our cozy bedroom. Late afternoon light filters through curtains. Heart racing, I plug in the camcorder. Been suspecting Anne, our maid, stealing cash. Fast-forward. There she is. Opens my drawer. Grabs two 100F bills. Fury…
Sweat beads on my neck. Heart hammers as I stand by Albert’s desk in the school secretary’s office. No panties today. His eyes lock on my legs. ‘Madame Nathalie, I’d give anything to feel if…
Our living room pulses with tension. Manu and Johan on the couch, beers in hand. I sip water, eyes locked on Johan. Heart hammers. ‘No alcohol for me,’ I say, voice husky. ‘I want to…
Back from British Columbia, campus empty. Heart races calling Lucie. Her voice drips hunger. I’m at her mansion door, cock leaking pre-cum into my boxers. She opens, classy dress hugging curves, nipples hard points. Nervous…
Wet glass mirrors my face under the streetlight. Blue beanie clings, ridiculous. Cold seeps into bones. Fingers numb. Bus shelter hums with exhaustion: silent students, man in long gray coat, black briefcase gripped tight, old…
The bedroom door clicks shut. Léa’s house. Late night. The air thick, heavy with unspoken heat. A massive mattress sprawls on the floor. Antoine and Vincent strip first. Skin glows under dim light. Antoine’s slim…
Thursday night, June heat clinging to our skin. Dinner at the Chinese spot done. Rosé buzzing in our veins. Claire’s crepe skirt hints at her tiny panties. My birthday. She suggests Les Bains. Sauna club.…
The hotel suite door clicks shut. Paris business trip. First as his private secretary. Heart hammers. Georges’ eyes devour me. Suitcase drops. He steps close. Breath hot on my neck. ‘Nadube, no more games.’ Fingers…
The bungalow door creaks open in the Mediterranean night heat. My heart pounds like a tennis serve. Boris, my Djokovic-lookalike tennis coach, pins me against the wall. His lips crush mine, tongue invading, hands groping…