Stories by Gwen

Gwen is coming to town. For two or three weeks, it's all I can think about. Gwen is coming. I'm counting the days. Finally the big day arrives. She invites me to meet her at her hotel - the same luxury business hotel where she always stays. She always gets a big suite on the floor reserved for frequent travelers. I park in the lot and make my way through the lobby. I announce myself to the concierge on Gwen's floor, who checks a list before directing me to a door at the end of the hall. I press the button and hear a musical chime. The door opens and Gwen is there. I am always surprised, in person, to be taller than Gwen. Her virtual presence is larger than life. I guess that's natural, given the nature of our relationship. Gwen is dominant, I am submissive. I get pleasure from being told what to do, from being or doing or experiencing whatever Gwen decides. She gets pleasure, she says, from controlling me, from treating me like an object, a sex toy to be used however s...

I've decided to allow you to attend your company party. I am escorting you. We'll put on evening dresses to mingle with the corporate executives and important clients. I'm wearing a little cocktail dress. You're wearing a black halter dress and a delicate collar that discreetly symbolizes that you belong to me. And heels, of course. The party is being held high above the city. The room is beautiful in a spare, modern way. There's a bar in the middle, and all around the edges are floor-to-ceiling windows. You can stand and look down at cars navigating the nighttime streets far below. We look at out the moon and it seems almost close enough to touch. You see your co-workers in a new light, dressed up as they never dress for work, all in their fanciest and prettiest clothes. Suits and ties, cocktail dresses, gowns. The executives and their young trophy wives cluster together drinking scotch. We sip wine as we walk slowly through the room, intent in conversation. After ...