Stories by Gwen

I've been teasing Eva all morning. She's at work but she makes time to do the little tasks I assign her. Today she has stood before the mirror in the ladies' room and teased her lovely nipples for me. I gave her a script: I belong to you, Miss Gwen. I'm your filthy horny slut and I'll do whatever you say. I'm your fucktoy, your insatiable pussy-licking whore. You own me, every filthy nasty bit of me, and I'll do anything you want. Anything. She recited this as she pinched and twisted and tugged her nipples hard, watching in the mirror, hoping none of her colleagues would come in. We have had some close calls in the past. I know the pain in her nipples travels through Eva's body like lightning, quickly making her pussy wet. I have her dab some of that wetness on her pulse points like perfume and smear some more on her face. Anyone who gets close to her today will smell her sex, like an animal in heat. Eva returns to work, her bra and panties tu...

She looked up at me, her cheeks smeared with mascara and tears. "I know you love me and you want the best for me," she said. "You would rather caress me than slap me like that." I grimaced. It's true. I would much rather thrill her with my tongue on her sex than apply the lash to her pretty ass. I've told her as much. Many times. "The fact that you brutalize me with straps and fists is proof of your love," she said. "I know it's the last thing you want to do, that it feels unnatural and wrong to you. But you do it because I need it, because you love me so much you want me to have that experience. And you wouldn't trust anyone who loves me less to give it to me." I hadn't thought of it that way, but she was right. I wouldn't trust anyone else to do it. It was, in a peculiar way, evidence of love. "So you beat me. And every blow hurts you more than it hurts me." Yes, sweet girl. Yes. It does. ...

I snuggle next to Eva, enjoying the sweet drowsy softness of her body against mine. I pull her just a bit closer, giving her a little squeeze. The sun is warm where it falls through the lace curtains. It's going to be a hot day. But right now everything is perfect. The warmth, the sun, the long day ahead...I sigh in contentment. "What’s for breakfast?" Eva mumbles. "Mmmmmm," I respond. "Bring me coffee." I roll over, grateful for a few more minutes of sleep. Eva giggles and gives my ass a little squeeze as she slips from the bed "Yes, Miss Monster. Will there be anything else for you, Mistress? Shall I shine your shoes, Mistress?" She laughs as she pads out to the kitchen. My face breaks into a sleepy half-smile as I listen to her leave. "Mistress." "Monster." What must she really think of me? A neat freak, a nerd, a wine lover, an opera fan. What could have drawn us together? I glance at the stack of paper...

It happened. The stars aligned with my nerve and my libido. I was about to drive eight hours to meet a tantalizing woman I'd been conversing with online. For coffee, we agreed. Coffee. I'm not saying that coffee is always code for sex, but I am saying that there were plenty of java shops between my place and hers that wouldn't require two tanks of gas and an overnight bag. Everything was packed and loaded. Under my comfortable road clothes was my skankiest lingerie. Under that was a very pale and nervous me. To say I'd never done anything like this before would be the understatement of the year. But I was recklessly restless and she was terribly tantalizing. I was locking my apartment door when I got her message. I had told her I was ready to hit the road. I was expecting a "drive safe," or a "call me when you get here." I was not expecting instructions Once every hour, pull over and play with yourself for five minutes: no more and no less...

I feel silky flower petals gliding up my spine, then softness against my wrist, my palm. The blooms make the return trip, up to my shoulder, my neck, and down my left arm, goosebumps trailing in their wake. She places the flower in the vase on my bedside table. One in the vase. Five remain. --- The doorbell rings shortly after I get home. I'm padding around in socks, looking forward to leftovers and Netflix. She stands on my porch in the rain. "Gwen," I say. "I wasn't expecting you." Gwen gives me that look, the one that melts me. Her lips curve in a knowing smile. She's carrying a small bouquet. Calla lilies. "Are you going to invite me in?" I like flowers - what girl doesn't? - but I know better than to take a bouquet from Gwen at face value. Why lilies? I know her too well to think she chose them for their fragrance. They're symbols. Puzzle pieces. I'm overthinking this, I know. But I know Gwen too. There's ...

I pedal a little harder as I round the last corner, the wind tickling my cheek as I hurry home. I press the remote and the garage door opens just as I arrive. It swings shut behind me as I lift my bike onto the rack. I hear the door open behind me. I turn to face Joyce. "No briefcase?" she asks. I hold my empty hands out and wiggle my fingers. "I'm taking the night off," I say. "There's nothing left but some revised proofs. I can check them in the morning." Joyce raises one eyebrow. "Monday, I mean," I say. "I'll read them Monday morning." Joyce's broad smile melts me as it always does. She takes my hand and draws me down the hall. She is leading me to my study, but I stop her, pushing her back against the wall. I kiss her pretty mouth and press the length of my body against hers, holding her there. I take hold of her hands then, and raise her outstretched arms in half circles until they are pointing straight up ab...

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...