I write BDSM erotica. Find my books on Amazon—I write Mf, MMf, and Ff stories with themes of BDSM, power exchange, humiliation, objectification, discipline, consensual non-consent, and other kinky things. My stories are strictly NSWF and 18+ and are fantasy only.
My writing is fictional. It is decidedly not real and it is not intended to be real at all. I write to amuse myself, entertain readers, and hopefully arouse us all. Once more: I am a storyteller spinning fantasies and I write fiction.
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In the community, Jefferson Hayes was known as a standup neighbor, a staid, and buttoned-up corporate executive. He donated to charitable causes and the police and fire departments. He was patient and friendly, a generous tipper, could grill a mean steak.
In private, Jeff liked rough, dominant sex with college girls young enough to be his daughter. Girls who didn't have much sexual knowledge yet, their only experiences with fumbling, over-eager boys. He enjoyed inducting them into their first experience being with a man, someone with the discipline, control, and awareness of himself and his partner to exact heavy demands on them, because he knew better than they did what sexual creatures they were capable of being.
He liked chastising their flesh, so supple and resilient and took so well to his various forms of punishment. Teaching them what their bodies were meant for. Training them into a state of sustained arousal where they were primed to be taken by a male, and where they had the anticipation of being used at any given moment, but no expectation that they might be able to climax. He tutored them in a new, utterly foreign kind of mutual pleasure, teaching them that their female bodies received pleasure from offering up their pain and pleading freely, that they could be aroused even when they were utterly helpless or humiliated.
He taught them to crawl and beg, and to like it. To accept dominance and authority and total control from a man such as himself.
Some of them he turned into pets. Puppy girls and ponies. He enjoyed dehumanizing them, reducing them to a base, animal state. One girl he had treated to the full experience of slavehood, going so far as to pierce her nipples with fat rings, and treating her to long periods of sensory deprivation. Another girl, a satisfyingly challenging subject, he had forcibly regressed and infantalized. By the end of their time together, she had been content to fist fat crayons in her mittened hands, coloring in a book, lying on her tummy on the floor wearing a diaper. Because she had been so difficult at the beginning, he rarely ever let her go without a diaper, even when she attended class. He had thoroughly enjoyed having the girl hump his leg in the thick, bulky diaper in utter futility while he sucked her nipples.
His relationships with them lasted months, the longest just over a year. Usually their life circumstances—graduating college, getting a job—brought a natural end to their journey with him. On at least two occasions, he had made introductions between his young lovers and other men of his acquaintance, with similar predilections and shared proclivities for controlling female submissives. He was pleased with how those friends had taken over the training he had begun; they remained in contact and frequently exchanged detailed reports with ample photo and video evidence.
One of them, Bernard, had even married the young former coed. Jillian never ended up graduating from college. Her new Master's demands, coupled with her own predisposition, had made it impossible for her to complete her coursework and obtain a degree. Instead, Bernard had "wifed her up and locked her down," as he put it, and bred her to boot. The twenty-two year old bride was now barefoot, chained, and pregnant. He enjoyed seeing the photos Bernard shared documenting the girl's increasingly gravid state. Bernard had even set up high definition, 24-hour recording cameras. The last time they got together, he had shown Jeff a livestream feed of Jilly, her pregnant belly enormous, naked and hobbled as she pushed a vacuum cleaner over the carpet in Bernard's office.
Jeff's current girl was named Daphne. He called her Daddy's slut.
She was 21 years of age and a polisci major. He'd read some of her papers and actually enjoyed doing so; he appreciated her gift for argumentative coherence. She had a gift for summation that was concise, logical, and readable.
He really enjoyed turning her into a bimbo slut for Daddy and making her cum her brains out. He never let her orgasm "normally," as she put it. No, he only let Daphne climax after he'd edged her past her limit, reducing her to a sputtering, screaming, drooling wreck, when her mind couldn't form a single thought and she didn't have two brain cells left to rub together, and she was driven to the point where she practically lost her grasp of the English language, capable only of grunts and groans and "Yes" and "No" and "Please."
And when he did finally let the girl cum, it was by applying acute pressure and friction on her G-spot so that she was squirting as she came. He wasn't content until she was lying in a puddle of her own juices or had flooded down her legs. He made her drench her panties repeatedly, and then she had to go out with that uncomfortable dampness clinging to her pussy.
Recently he had started experimenting with giving her enemas, making her ask his permission to use the bathroom, and watching her urinate. He also gave her long, thoroughly invasive inspections once a day. All of it reinforced that Daphne's body wasn't hers; it was his possession, with all attendant rights over it. He told her, firmly and bluntly, that she had no right to privacy or orgasms, none at all.
It made her squirm with embarrassment and blushes, but she submitted to all of it so beautifully that Jeff was already making some longer-term plans. He loved mandating everything about Daphne's body. Whether she could come, whether she could piss, where and when.
Maybe he was inspired by Bernard and Jillian. But he was increasingly taken with the idea of breeding Daphne, of planting his seed in her and transforming her body into an even lusher form. He'd done some reading on lactation and he liked the idea of controlling her milkings. So that was in Daphne's future.
Not that she had any idea of that, not right now. When he got home, Daphne bounced right to him, her eyes grateful and pleading.
"Hi Daddy," she greeted him, dancing from foot to foot. "May I use the bathroom?"
He ignored her request. "Where's my welcome home kiss?"
She clung to him and he took his time kissing her deeply, letting his hands roam over her tits and ass while she writhed against him.
Finally she broke away, gasping. "Please, Daddy, I really need to go."
"Not yet, honey. Daddy needs to use his slut first."
Daphne was clearly torn between dual needs: the need to relieve herself and the need to cum. But she knew she didn't have a say in the matter.
"Come on, it's a beautiful evening, let's enjoy it," Jeff said, leading her outside onto the deck.
He kissed her neck and squeezed her throat lightly as he unzipped himself. He sheathed himself in Daphne's liquid heat without preamble, a hard, driving thrust that sent her up on her toes, her hands gripping the railing.
"Thank you, Daddy!" she squealed.
He was pleased she had remembered to thank him for using her; it was a relatively new rule.
"Be a good girl, Daphne. Squeeze your pussy for Daddy," he said, ramming himself into her again and again.
The hot, grasping clutch of her pussy was heaven. He reached around her and palmed the round weight of her breast, squeezing the mound, then tugging sharply at her nipple. He thought he would take her off birth control soon, sooner than he'd planned.
"You're such a noisy slut," he said, loving it. "It sounds like you did a good job edging yourself today, didn't you?"
"Yes, Daddy. I've been really good. May I come, please?" she gasped.
He slid his hand down lower, pressing over her bladder, before he fingered her rubbery, slick clit. His other hand tightened on her throat; he wanted to hear the choking sounds she made.
"Not yet," he said. "Not until I'm ready."
They were far enough from neighbors that he didn't worry about the noise, or anyone seeing good old Jefferson Hayes brutally fucking a nubile young woman while he choked her and slapped her tits.
Daphne gulped, "I'm close, Daddy! I really need to—"
Her body shuddered, tensing. She wasn't sure if she was coming or pissing or squirting or some combination of it all, only knew that she had zero control over any of it, zero hope of stopping it from happening.
BDSM erotica. Fictional characters over 18.
In the community, Jefferson Hayes was known as a standup neighbor, a staid, and buttoned-up corporate executive. He donated to charitable causes and the police and fire departments. He was patient and friendly, a generous tipper, could grill a mean steak.
In private, Jeff liked rough, dominant sex with college girls young enough to be his daughter. Girls who didn't have much sexual knowledge yet, their only experiences with fumbling, over-eager boys. He enjoyed inducting them into their first experience being with a man, someone with the discipline, control, and awareness of himself and his partner to exact heavy demands on them, because he knew better than they did what sexual creatures they were capable of being.
He liked chastising their flesh, so supple and resilient and took so well to his various forms of punishment. Teaching them what their bodies were meant for. Training them into a state of sustained arousal where they were primed to be taken by a male, and where they had the anticipation of being used at any given moment, but no expectation that they might be able to climax. He tutored them in a new, utterly foreign kind of mutual pleasure, teaching them that their female bodies received pleasure from offering up their pain and pleading freely, that they could be aroused even when they were utterly helpless or humiliated.
He taught them to crawl and beg, and to like it. To accept dominance and authority and total control from a man such as himself.
Some of them he turned into pets. Puppy girls and ponies. He enjoyed dehumanizing them, reducing them to a base, animal state. One girl he had treated to the full experience of slavehood, going so far as to pierce her nipples with fat rings, and treating her to long periods of sensory deprivation. Another girl, a satisfyingly challenging subject, he had forcibly regressed and infantalized. By the end of their time together, she had been content to fist fat crayons in her mittened hands, coloring in a book, lying on her tummy on the floor wearing a diaper. Because she had been so difficult at the beginning, he rarely ever let her go without a diaper, even when she attended class. He had thoroughly enjoyed having the girl hump his leg in the thick, bulky diaper in utter futility while he sucked her nipples.
His relationships with them lasted months, the longest just over a year. Usually their life circumstances—graduating college, getting a job—brought a natural end to their journey with him. On at least two occasions, he had made introductions between his young lovers and other men of his acquaintance, with similar predilections and shared proclivities for controlling female submissives. He was pleased with how those friends had taken over the training he had begun; they remained in contact and frequently exchanged detailed reports with ample photo and video evidence.
One of them, Bernard, had even married the young former coed. Jillian never ended up graduating from college. Her new Master's demands, coupled with her own predisposition, had made it impossible for her to complete her coursework and obtain a degree. Instead, Bernard had "wifed her up and locked her down," as he put it, and bred her to boot. The twenty-two year old bride was now barefoot, chained, and pregnant. He enjoyed seeing the photos Bernard shared documenting the girl's increasingly gravid state. Bernard had even set up high definition, 24-hour recording cameras. The last time they got together, he had shown Jeff a livestream feed of Jilly, her pregnant belly enormous, naked and hobbled as she pushed a vacuum cleaner over the carpet in Bernard's office.
Jeff's current girl was named Daphne. He called her Daddy's slut.
She was 21 years of age and a polisci major. He'd read some of her papers and actually enjoyed doing so; he appreciated her gift for argumentative coherence. She had a gift for summation that was concise, logical, and readable.
He really enjoyed turning her into a bimbo slut for Daddy and making her cum her brains out. He never let her orgasm "normally," as she put it. No, he only let Daphne climax after he'd edged her past her limit, reducing her to a sputtering, screaming, drooling wreck, when her mind couldn't form a single thought and she didn't have two brain cells left to rub together, and she was driven to the point where she practically lost her grasp of the English language, capable only of grunts and groans and "Yes" and "No" and "Please."
And when he did finally let the girl cum, it was by applying acute pressure and friction on her G-spot so that she was squirting as she came. He wasn't content until she was lying in a puddle of her own juices or had flooded down her legs. He made her drench her panties repeatedly, and then she had to go out with that uncomfortable dampness clinging to her pussy.
Recently he had started experimenting with giving her enemas, making her ask his permission to use the bathroom, and watching her urinate. He also gave her long, thoroughly invasive inspections once a day. All of it reinforced that Daphne's body wasn't hers; it was his possession, with all attendant rights over it. He told her, firmly and bluntly, that she had no right to privacy or orgasms, none at all.
It made her squirm with embarrassment and blushes, but she submitted to all of it so beautifully that Jeff was already making some longer-term plans. He loved mandating everything about Daphne's body. Whether she could come, whether she could piss, where and when.
Maybe he was inspired by Bernard and Jillian. But he was increasingly taken with the idea of breeding Daphne, of planting his seed in her and transforming her body into an even lusher form. He'd done some reading on lactation and he liked the idea of controlling her milkings. So that was in Daphne's future.
Not that she had any idea of that, not right now. When he got home, Daphne bounced right to him, her eyes grateful and pleading.
"Hi Daddy," she greeted him, dancing from foot to foot. "May I use the bathroom?"
He ignored her request. "Where's my welcome home kiss?"
She clung to him and he took his time kissing her deeply, letting his hands roam over her tits and ass while she writhed against him.
Finally she broke away, gasping. "Please, Daddy, I really need to go."
"Not yet, honey. Daddy needs to use his slut first."
Daphne was clearly torn between dual needs: the need to relieve herself and the need to cum. But she knew she didn't have a say in the matter.
"Come on, it's a beautiful evening, let's enjoy it," Jeff said, leading her outside onto the deck.
He kissed her neck and squeezed her throat lightly as he unzipped himself. He sheathed himself in Daphne's liquid heat without preamble, a hard, driving thrust that sent her up on her toes, her hands gripping the railing.
"Thank you, Daddy!" she squealed.
He was pleased she had remembered to thank him for using her; it was a relatively new rule.
"Be a good girl, Daphne. Squeeze your pussy for Daddy," he said, ramming himself into her again and again.
The hot, grasping clutch of her pussy was heaven. He reached around her and palmed the round weight of her breast, squeezing the mound, then tugging sharply at her nipple. He thought he would take her off birth control soon, sooner than he'd planned.
"You're such a noisy slut," he said, loving it. "It sounds like you did a good job edging yourself today, didn't you?"
"Yes, Daddy. I've been really good. May I come, please?" she gasped.
He slid his hand down lower, pressing over her bladder, before he fingered her rubbery, slick clit. His other hand tightened on her throat; he wanted to hear the choking sounds she made.
"Not yet," he said. "Not until I'm ready."
They were far enough from neighbors that he didn't worry about the noise, or anyone seeing good old Jefferson Hayes brutally fucking a nubile young woman while he choked her and slapped her tits.
Daphne gulped, "I'm close, Daddy! I really need to—"
Her body shuddered, tensing. She wasn't sure if she was coming or pissing or squirting or some combination of it all, only knew that she had zero control over any of it, zero hope of stopping it from happening.
Part 2 here.
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