This glorious story about being used as a set of fuck-holes is written and read by the fabulous Sundial, and originally appeared on her website. 

And here I am, a nearly naked shackled X bent at the middle. The lower part of the X is formed by my gorgeous new spreader bar. My ankles are wrapped in the supple leather that are its cuffs, unable to move. My torso is laid face down on the table. My arms are stretched out, tits squashed under me. My wrists are secured in leather shackles which you (rather ingeniously) attached with belts to the legs at the far end of table, forming the upper part of the X. There is no give at all, I cannot move.

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This fabulous piece – “How do I want you?” – is written and recorded by Robyn, of RobynEatsEverything. 

Why do you have to make everything so difficult simply by being you? I want to take my time with you, time to worship every inch of that impossibly sexual body of yours and learn exactly what my touch does to every little bit of it. But I also want you, need you, demand you, now. And I mean, now, right now, because you and your body are the most urgent things in my world.

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This stunningly filthy butt plug story is written and read by Molly of Molly’s Daily Kiss, and originally appeared on her website. 

“When was the last time you wore this?”

I glance back over my shoulder. He is holding up the blue glass to the light, turning it one way and the other, studying it. He senses my eyes on him and turns his attention to me, an expectant look his face as he waits for my reply.

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This story, in which you are a dirty little cum slut getting dressed down (and fucked) by a dominant partner, is written by Molly Moore and read by Stephen Carling. Note that this story plays heavily on the idea of you being used even though you’re feigning reluctance. As such it touches on consensual non-consent, and includes some humiliation and degradation.

Take off your dress. Slowly. There’s no need to hurry, slut. You’ll get what you deserve, all in good time…

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This gorgeous kinky office story is written and read by Carolyna Luna, and originally appeared on her website. 

I wonder if my employees are curious about the frequency of my shuffling body today. Or of the constant hiss of the pneumonics in my office chair releasing and engaging again as I stand and then sit back down aggressively. No one has commented on the cacophony of its wheels scraping against the floor. They’re used to my furious typing, as I often spend my day that way, but that’s never stopped them from dropping by for the usual interruptions and banter. It’s odd enough for a Friday afternoon when no one’s ever in the mood to work. Even odder because I’m not furiously typing today. As the hours of silence have spilled into late afternoon, I really wonder if they somehow possibly know that my body is trying to betray me…

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