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I stood in the doorway, my bathrobe wrapped tightly around my naked body. My eight year old daughter smiled at me and waved and I grinned, my hand fluttering wildly as she headed off toward school. It was just down the road and literally less distance than it had been from our old farm house to the farm to market road where she’d caught the bus. She’d be there in four minutes. Talk about a commute. Easy breezy.

At the same time a young man of about twenty-four emerged from a car. Rachel didn’t notice him, but I sure as hell did and he waited a polite couple of seconds, or at least until Rachel was far enough along not to look back at her barefoot, bathrobed mother, before heading over to the open door with an infectious grin.

“Morning, Bre.” Alex’s eyes flashed in the morning sunlight. He was wearing blue jeans and boots, along with a cowboy’s twenty pound buckle, and his tee shirt was covered up with a light brown jacket which was admittedly still appropriate for a south Texas winter morning. I stepped back eagerly and let him into the apartment.

“Thanks. I really appreciate you making the drive all the way out here,” I apologized, shutting the door behind him. He stood in my foyer, looking around. I don’t have much of a foyer. His eyes traced across the living area of my apartment and a confused look crossed his face.

“It’s…” his voice trailed off, then he looked right at me. “More modern than I would have expected.”

I let out a laugh and brushed past him. “Kari decorated it. So it’s a mixture of contemporary European and 1st grader.”

Alex grinned. “Ah… I get it now.”

I looked back over my shoulder. “No decorating style can withstand the powers of an elementary school child. Entropy reigns. Trust me.” Then, just because his mind was on the wrong thing, I let the blue bathrobe I was wearing fall to the ground. And I turned right and headed down the hall to my bedroom.

Alex followed his eyes and I’m not sure his left my ass for even a second. Once we got there I turned, flashing him my front and once more his hungry gaze seemed to ravish me. The inner tiger that had been leashed two days ago within me roared and I realized I was more than wet. I was ready. Oh GOD was I ready.

“Do you want to tie me down?” I asked, picking up a pair of cheap foam and Velcro bondage cuffs. They’d been sitting on the mattress next to four bungee cords that Julie routinely used to secure me spread-eagled to the metal head and footboards of my bed.

Alex looked at them curiously for a moment, then nodded. “I never turn down the offer to tie up a pretty girl who has asked me to whip her.”

I bit my lip, but was basically ignoring him as I struggled to wrap the first cuff around my own wrist. Alex moved forward to help and I let him, my heartbeat already thudding at a faster pace as the excitement flowed through me. I put my right leg up so he could do my ankle and I gasped as he ran his hand up my calf, over my knee, against my thigh, and so close to my soaking wet pussy that I could feel the heat of him.

“Oh please,” I moaned. “Don’t. I’m so fucking close and I don’t dare screw this up.”

Alex made a humming noise. “Alright. I’ll try to be good.” He finished up and then knelt to do my other leg, his face about four inches from my dripping slit. “I can smell you. You’re practically dripping.”

I looked down and ran my fingers through his sandy brown hair. “That just means it will go quick and then you can have your satisfaction,” I replied in a low, sultry voice.

He finished putting the cuff on and I immediately fell back on the bed, spreading my arms and legs to the corners.

“No,” Alex said quickly. “Not like that.”

I looked up at him, perplexed. “No?”

He made a spinning gesture with his finger. “No. The other way. Sideways. With your head on the side of the bed.”

I blinked and started to slide down. “You want me like this?” I asked, positioning myself halfway between the head and footboards. He grinned, nodding.

“Yes. If I’m going to stretch you open, I want you to be stretched.”

I sighed. “Whatever. Just please… do it. Do me.”

This tale of Breanne's is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM blog but can be read in full in Breanne's "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 14."  Check out the amazing antics of the "goddess of dark erotica." At Amazon.com!

 

Jill's Chance

It has become a frighteningly regular thing - finding these skeletons dumped around the house. Michael Alexander quietly brought home another one and chucked it in the closet, where perusing folks found it, quite literally, by tripping over the corpse...

Jill is an alternate, selected from birth by certain traits to perhaps gain the privilege of becoming a breeder. Set in Michael Alexander's A&E world, Jill steps up to the plate to impress Jack, hoping that she can endure and delight, captivate and tantalize the man who has expressed an interest. She has but one chance to avoid a fate, perhaps worse than death...


This one is going to be... difficult. Are you REALLY sure you want to read something so horrific? Check the codes first...

M+/f+, bondage, discipline, sadism, masochism, severe, torture, gynophagia, snuff, watersports. 

TAKE ME to the Skeleton Closet where I can read Jill's Chance

Up and Down

I caught my reflection in the window and hesitated only momentarily as I considered the girl who stared back at me. The first thing that went through my mind was “damn, I’ll bet she’s a good fuck,” followed by the awful, sinking feeling that everyone else would have the exact same thought. I grimaced. The girl was dressed in a pair of slip on high heels. And not the sort you’d find a professional looking woman wearing. No, these were platforms, each boasting thick soles and a nine inch spike at the back. The arch of each foot was bent dramatically and I knew from experience that while it looked amazing, it meant I’d need a foot massage and some aspirin later. The girl in the reflection had red painted toenails which matched her hair, which curled and fell in locks down her shoulders.

Her blouse was borderline decent, and by borderline I mean on the wrong side of the border. It was white, translucent, and did very little to keep the pink, silver dollar circles of her nipples from showing. Of course the fact that the gold hoop piercing on her right nipple, along with the tiny gold padlock that hung from it, easily seen through the shirt as well, just made looking at her ample bosom that much more interesting. The shirt was tight too, so she filled it out impressively. And just in case you hadn’t noticed that you could see her tits through the material, the cut was daring. Her collar plunged low to a few almost meaningless buttons at the front and did more to reveal her breasts than the thinness of the cloth.

The skirt was tight, black, and ridiculously short. It barely covered her bottom and the only good news was that at least it actually did cover her bottom. A simple twist of the hips made sure of that and while it molded like paint to her sculpted butt, it was sort of hard not to look at her legs.

So yeah, she was definitely “fuckable.” I sighed, resigned to looking like a nympho humiliation pain slut out for another assignment. Because in truth, I was.

It was Saturday morning and I’d been careful to pick the day because I didn’t exactly want a crowd around as I struggled to complete Master Brandon’s assignment. Julie had kindly presented it to me in the middle of the week, even lobbying to have me do it on a work day. Kari had initially been in favor of the idea, at least until she’d read the details of what Brandon had in mind. Then she’d called Julie, argued a bit, then suggested Saturday. She even provided a location, which was why I was about to go into a building with only fifteen stories, instead of the tallest skyscraper in Houston.

As far as office buildings went, the concrete, steel, and glass construction wasn’t the most impressive of the buildings in the greater Houston area, but it was new and fresh and only half occupied. Master Brandon had specified I select the highest office building in Houston, but Kari had squashed that idea, pointing out that anything over twenty stories would have elevators dedicated for groups of floors, rather than one that went from top to bottom. For me, I was sort of glad Kari had gotten involved. We had been both visited the building a number of times over the last few weeks dealing with a client remodeling their penthouse office. I’d accompanied her to take pictures, notes, and eventually just to distract the living hell out of the company CFO, a nice looking man named George Padilla who had been annoying Kari by following her around like a lost puppy. Once I’d sauntered in looking, well… much the same as I did that Saturday morning, he’d payed way more attention to me than to what Kari was doing. It allowed her to work unimpeded. He had especially liked the fuck me shoes I’d been wearing. Had I sat down in his office and put my feet up on his desk, flashing my legs and probably a bit more at him, he’d have gladly let Kari go off on her own while he explored my finances. Deeply.

On Saturday the place wasn’t exactly busy but I was able to get in with a minimal of fuss. My attire caught a wide-eyed grin from the security officer at the front desk, but then I was past him and stepped into the elevator alcove and pressed the button. There were five elevators and each one stopped on every floor. I took a deep breath, my boobs once again threatening to pop out of my top. Finally the door to one of the elevators slid open and I stepped in, alone.

I pressed the button for the fifteenth floor and as the elevator started to rise I fished the pink control box out of my waistband. There were two sliders on it, along with double rows of unilluminated red LEDs and a matching pink wire disappeared into my skirt. I didn’t waste any time. I used my thumb on both sliders simultaneously, pushing them upward even as the elevator began to climb. All twelve lights came on and the cheap music being piped out of the elevator’s speakers did nothing to mute the sudden hum of two powerful, electric motors that emanated from under my skirt.

The rest of Breanne's amazing tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog. But don't despair! It can be found in her novel "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 13"!  Check it out now at Amazon.com!

 

 

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