Forum Category: Erotic Stories
looking for somebody to collaborate with!
- GRESHAM, OR
Posted: 8/12/2009 23:25
My last girlfriend and I were collaborating on some erotic fiction. I thought it was quite good! I'm big on descriptions, so was she... She had more experience with S&M than I did, but we broke up. She said she wanted to finish the story, but we never did! :( I'm looking for somebody to start a new piece with! Let me know what idea get s your juices flowing! ;) Here is the story as it was. Gives you an idea of what I'm like! Hope you enjoy!
Mr. Dos Cerezas
I feel like an astronaut humming out I-84 in my new Roadster, a 2008 from Tesla Motors.
Who says only guys love their new cars? I waited a year for this baby. He's Fusion
Red with matching hard top and black premium leather seats. Out for his maiden voyage,
so to speak. Stepping my booted foot on the accelerator I feel my body thrust back
into the seat and my brain hitting the back of my skull in a wash of adrenaline and
pure joy. A giggle escapes my lips and I wonder why I was holding back and let out
the shriek that had bubbled up the giggle. All this power with no sound other than a
vague hum. Suddenly I don't care that it's past the year 2000 and I don't have a
teleporter or personal robot yet. I have all but silent, sweet smelling power.
Suddenly Pink Floyd's Learning to Fly is my sound track.
Up ahead I see a hitchhiker. Appears to be a young man.
This started out to be a good day. The weather looked great! Jim and I were going to a
concert tonight at the Gorge amphitheater. His bitch girlfriend was going with us.
They've been dating for two months, and I think Cami is really coming between us. She
manipulates him all the time. Jim and I have been best friends for 20 years, and now he
ditches me. When we stopped at Multnomah Falls for a bathroom break, I didn't think for
a second that I might have to hitchhike the rest of the way! When I came out into the
parking lot, his car was gone. He's not answering his cell phone either. Fuck! That
bitch probably offered him some pussy if he left me here! I'm sure she didn't phrase it
like that, she's much more subtle. Now I'm trudging down I-84, and its starting to
rain. Who is going to pick up a scruffy college kid from Eugene? If I had a pair of
tits, it would be different! I suppose it would have made more sense to talk someone
at the rest stop into letting me ride with them. Now I'm two miles away! Too late to
turn back now! I hold my arm out and spin around to start walking backwards. Pointng
my thumb towards the sky, I see a red sportscar tearing up the road at about a hundred
miles per hour. There's no way they will be stopping for me. I hope that a volkswagen
bus will come by soon and offer me a ride. This sucks!
I'm heading for a Fem Domme party in Hood River. The last time I went to one of these
things, I had a pet with me. This time I'm trolling for some "new pussy". My last boy
went slack on me when his wife got jealous of all the fun we were having. It's not
like Mrs. Vanilla Bean was going to give him the kind of beating he so desperately
needed. The monogamous can be so perplexing! Thoughts flood my mind; each making its
case. Never pick up a hitchhiker; he could be a psycho-killer! It's raining and the
poor guy would be so appreciative. He might get my upolstry wet. He might be cute.
He might smell. So, are you feeling lucky, Miss? I make a decision and pull my foot
off the accelerator. This will be fun, all part of the adventure. I glance right to
check myself in the rearview. Glance up to check him as I get a little closer;
cuteness is confirmed. He's got light brown wavy hair peaking out of his hood. He's
clearly not old enough to to grow a real beard, but what's there is making a valiant
effort to cover his upper lip and jaw. I slow down quickly and pull over just beyond
him. He watches the car and me the whole time with a look of disbelief. He turns
around and starts to walk up to the passenger side of the car. I hit the down switch
for the passenger window regulator and he approaches. He crouches down beside the
door, clear blue eyes and a pouty face turn toward me. "Why don't you hop in," I say,
"we seem to be heading the same direction."
I can't believe that car stopped for me! It's got to be pretty expensive. I wonder what
type of person can afford a car like that? I walk up to the passenger side of the car
and the window slowly moves down. I bend my knees to squat down and look in the car.
I hear a melodious voice asking me to hop in. I'm sure she heard me suck my breath in
when I saw how gorgeous she is. Everything about her is lustrous. Her silky black
hair shines. Her cobalt blue eyes burn into me. Her silky blouse shines as it stretches
to contain her large breasts. Did she buy this car herself or did her sugar daddy buy
it for her? I'll have to ask her later...
"Thanks a lot" I say. She introduces herself as Samantha, but say her friends call her
"Well Sam, My name is Ian, and my friends call me Ian!" I smirk like I'm being clever,
but I feel like a total dork pulling a stupid line like that on a sophisticated woman
like Sam. She merely smiles at me and takes off before I even have the door closed. I
feel like I'm experiencing three G's when she accelerates so quickly. There isn't even
any engine noise.
"Where are you headed?" she asks.
"I'm trying to get to a concert in central Washington."
"You're going to George by yourself?"
"MMMmmmhhhmmm" I mumble grudgingly.
I'm looking straight ahead as the scenery rapidly passes by. Only a few minutes pass,
but twice as many miles go by.
"You like to go fast?" I say stupidly.
"I like excitement" She replies.
"I've got a party that I'm going to go to in Hood River. Why don't you come with me? If
you decide it's not your deal, I'll take you all the way to George."
"I'm not really dressed for a party."
"They'll have clothes you can wear." She purses her lips, trying to conceal a smirk.
"Ok, you only live once!" I regret the cliche even as I utter it.
God I'm such a dork!
He's perfect! Off balance and awkward, yet desperately trying to please. He's chatty,
telling me about his friend ditching him. Glancing down, I notice his thighs look firm
under his jeans. I'm betting his ass is equally decorative. He's telling me all kind
of things I'll file away and use later to evoke the desired response from him. In the
meantime, I need to get this boy's attention.
I slow down to take a curve.
"Why don't you put on some music?" As soon as he looks down, finds the right knob and
starts to reach, I hit the accelerator again and he can't move his arm, much less his
body. He makes a surprised little noise in his throat, then swivels his head toward me
to see me smiling looking straight ahead. I level off and let him peel up off his
seat. "The driver pulled that one on me during a demo ride. You don't get to drive
one until yours rolls out of production."
Enough showing off my new hardware; time to start putting him in his proper place. I
have about three quarters of an hour to get him on board for this party. I need him to
believe he's consented to what is going to happen to him.
He gets some tunes going and turns back toward me. "Is it a birthday party?", he asks.
Good question. Usually, it's close to *someone's* birthday with events happening every
second month or so. Visions of a happy naked slave sticking his ass out for a spanking
dance in my head. He's on his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder at me, his
shaved balls snug up to his body, dangerously close to where I'm about to strike with
an ornate paddle. "Partially," I say after a moment. "There will be some role
"As in D&D?," he squeaks out in disbelief.
I suppress another smirk. "We don't usually use any dice." He's clearly confused and
thinking fast. After a moment of silence, I ask, "Do you like strong women, Ian?"
Do I like strong women? What a loaded question! It tells me so much about her...
This is probably her car that she bought for herself. There is a huge difference
between a strong woman and
a Fortune 500 strong woman. I am clearly overchicked. She is waaaay out of my league. I
can't help but think that she is
flirting with me. She smiles at me, smirks at me, and laughs and giggles at my stupid
"Ian, the hostess of the party and I are really good friends. I'm wondering if you
would help me play a joke on her?"
"Sure, I love practical jokes!"
"Great! I'm going to tell her that I abducted you."
"Abducted? Like an alien?"
"That I kidnapped you, and plan to use you as I see fit."
"Use me for what?"
"For whatever I want...." There is that smirk again.
I feel my skin flush. I hope my facial hair hides it. Her top two buttons on her
blouse are now unbuttoned, and I don't understand how or when that even happened. I
can see the top of her breasts as we drive down the highway.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"About what?" Oh great, I totally missed what she was talking about because I was
staring at her tits!
"That you can trust me. I won't let anything bad happen to you, but I want you to act
"Oh, OK." I'm a little nervous, but I think I like where this is heading.
We start travelling up a narrow mountain road. It is paved, but Sam slows down a little
bit. She is still driving a lot faster than I ever would. After two switchbacks we
pull up to the top of a hill and there is a large mansion there.
About a dozen cars are parked out front. The house has huge windows all along the
front. I can see people dressed up and sipping champagne. I feel really out of place.
"Are you sure I'm going to fit in?"
"Of course!" Sam winks, "You're my guest! I kidnapped you, remember?"
The moment of truth so near at hand… I get parked and pop the trunk. "Be a sweet
abductee and get my bag out of the trunk, will you?" We both get out of the car. I
look across the top and see that my boots bring us to about the same height. Ian
swings the bag over his shoulder giving me a bit of a look when he hears tell tale
sounds from the shifting contents. Perhaps it was the length of chain against the
collar's D-rings? My heart is pounding with the giddiness of my fantastic luck. I
think about it a moment and decide to let him walk into the house under his own power
The front door opens and my friend, in her best vinyl finery, greets us. "Sam!
Welcome! And who do we have here? New friend?" I send a secret glance to Ian. "This
is Ian, he was hitchhiking and I picked him up. I'm going to show him what can happen
when you get in the wrong car." Susan, lays a look of concern on her face and looks
from Sam to Ian. "Oh my… well, don't be too rough on him." Turning away from Ian, she
winks at Sam. "Come Ian," Sam says, pulling him toward the cloak room. On the way,
Ian can see into the main room where the people are drinking and chatting. What he'd
taken as a general party of people, when looking in from the outside, is revealed to be
Dommes with their scantily clad arm candy/furniture/servants. Mostly men and mostly
accessorized as opposed to clothed. One is on his hands and knees in front of his
Mistress acting as an ottoman. One is bringing his Lady a drink, one woman has two
slaves one is rubbing her feet while she strokes the other's hair while he sits on the
floor beside her like a dog. I let Ian get a look, but then rush him ahead before he
can start gaping. There is music and other sounds coming from other rooms, most
notably from the redly illuminated dungeon stairs that we pass as they walk down the
"I wasn't sure what I'd need today so I just brought everything." Sam opens the bag
and pulls out a grouping of four black leather straps held together by two stainless
steel rings. One of the straps has a buckle in the middle. While she unbuckles it she
says, "take off your shirt." Ian, looks around a bit of self-conscious, but then
complies. I can smell his nervous sweat and it make me feel way happier than it
should. "Arms up," I say sweetly, like a Mom dressing her young son. Up they go, and
I slide the harness over them and into place with one metal circle between his nipples
and the other at the middle of his back. I buckle him in snug. I think a moment, I
want to get him into the leather pants too, but first I want to see how he reacts to
being collared. I reach into the bag and bring out a black leather collar with three
jingly metal rings on it. It's lined with thick black fur. I'm standing eye to eye
with Ian. "Come over here," I lead him to a nicely padded kneeling bench. We stand
opposite each other on either side of the bench, looking into each others eyes.
"Kneel". This is his last chance to get out of what will otherwise be a very
I'm wondering what my role is in all of this. Is she going to lead me around by this
leash all night? Am I just an observer? Maybe most of these people are exhibitionists
that like to invite people in to watch them. Sam leaves me kneeling at the bench and
walks about ten paces before she drops her back of tricks and fishes out a leather
bustier. She takes off her silky blouse, and her bra, revealing her glorious tits. She
puts on the bustier slowly, I think for my sake, because I'm savoring every second I
get to stare at her beautiful breasts. The Bustier is black patent leather. It is a
nice contrast to her exposed taupe midriff. She turns around and bends over to step
out of her pants and panties. Then she once again slowly drags a leather pair of
panties up her legs and fiddles with them for a while trying to get them to fit. I
watch her don a garter belt and actually use it to hold up a pair of fishnet stockings.
Then she rummages around in the bag to fish out some sort of whip. When she turns to
face me, her face becomes very stoic. She goosesteps over to me, and when she is about
arms length, she stops abruptly and slaps me across the face with her right hand.
"Slaves never look at their misstress directly unless ordered to do so!" she snaps.
I'm shocked. She slapped me harder than any woman ever has, even in the middle of a
My left cheek stings. I'm reeling and don't know what to say.
"Yes Ma'am?" I offer.
She switches her whip into her right hand and slaps me with her left hand.
"Do you think I'm some old hag?" she screeches.
She must be right handed, because the left hand stings a little bit less.
I'm starting to look down towards the floor. Meekly assuming a submissive posture. I
can't help noticing that she didn't get her breasts into the bustier properly. The top
half of her areolas are visible above the cups of her bustier. Maybe she did that on
"Yes Mistress?" I offer.
"For a college boy you are kind of slow."
Did I just see her smirk?
He's going for it. The nervous energy getting him to this point broke when
my hand connected with his face. That simple act focuses both of us on our
roles and puts us where we need to be to enjoy this game we're playing. Warmth
is spreading into my chest, pelvis and thighs. As the leather warms on my
body, I start to smell it which takes me even further into my dominating
bitch persona. I can see that Ian is more comfortable with me telling him
what to do. He doesn't have to worry about fitting in any more, he can just
do as I say. I tuck the quirt over my shoulder, tuck a finger into his
chest ring and draw him up to his feet looking at his face while he looks
down to the side. His cheeks are pink with finger marks and this makes me
happy. "Hands together behind your back." He complies with no hesitation.
I slip on handcuffs and give him a firm, but not too hard, jerk with the
leash. We walk back out toward the front room.
Beautiful women and slaves are everywhere, standing, sitting, leaning on the
bar. The women chatting amongst themselves and the slaves mostly still
unless they are following an order from their Mistress. I sit on a red
wingback chair, next to a couch. "Slave, bring me a cranberry and
looks unsure how to proceed. He peers at the bar and back toward me as
though he's measuring the task. I pull him down and unhook his leash. "You
might want to get your hands in front of you first so you don't spill it on
Susan's rug." By this time a couple of my friends have come to say
settling on the couch to watch the show as Ian squirms around trying to back
his butt and his legs over his wrists. He crouches down and gets his wrists
about to the back of his knees and then falls backward onto the thick sheep
skin area rug at my feet. He's scrambling to pull his feet over and I start
to gently crack at the backs of his thighs with the quirt. All of us are
giggling, by now. All of us, but Ian, of course.
Ian hands me my drink, "good slave, now you may sit." I guide him down onto
the floor in front of my chair. I'm carrying on a nice conversation with
my friends while I play under Ian's ass with the toe of my boot. He starts
to shift away from my pressure so I grab a handful of hair at the back of
his head and sit him back on my foot. Poor baby, I must be hurting him a
little. This also makes me happy.
One of the women, Mary, is telling Susan and I how lovely and tight her
slave's ass is. Susan and I look at each other. I catch the challenge. "I
think that calls for a line up. Don't you Susan? Stand up slaves, in a
line now so we can see who's buns are most perfect." This brings on a new
round of giggling and quirting them together hip to hip. All three boys are
wearing leather pants so first we try to judge based on clothed shape. We
discuss amongst ourselves, each grabbing at each young mans cheeks testing
the firmness and looking at the shape straight on as well as from the side.
"Hmm, Mary, I think yours might have it for firmness, but I don't know. I
think we'll need to see how they compare without the pants," says Susan. Ian
looks over his shoulder at me and I put my stern face back on and poke him
in the shoulder with the whip. "Don't make me come up there?" I say. Ian's
head whips back around. Mary says, "Drop 'em slaves." The two experienced
slaves have their pants around their ankles in two seconds flat. Of course,
they're not wearing handcuffs, either. Ian's a little slower and has to
bend over to slide his pants down. They're just a little tight around his
muscular thighs. Now more women are looking at the spectacle from around
the room. Even a couple of the more bisexual slaves are looking hungrily at
the cocks that have been displayed on the other side of our game. "Before
us we have two bald asses and one Wookie who needs some Clearasil," Mary
reports. More general giggling. Ian turns to look again knowing he's the
Wookie. "Don't worry, pet," I croon, "we'll wax that off later".
The front room is beginning to empty out as Mistresses and slaves head down
to the dungeon either to play or to enjoy the show. I'm watching Ian,
trying to read him and see if he's enjoying this or not. He's pulling his
pants back on now and turning around. His face tells me I've pushed him a
little too far, but the bulge in his pants tells a different story.
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