She’s coming along in her training.

She’s coming along in her training.

(via pull-my-strings)

9,350 notes

#bdsm

#d/s

#blow job

#oral sex

#oral

Since you say you hate being gagged, I brought you out here.

No one can hear you out here.

So, I can make you scream even louder.

(via bendhur)

209 notes

#bondage

#bdsm

#d/s

bendhur:

Bendhur



Don’t worry, if you’re a good girl while I punish you, I’ll give you my cock to suck on after as a reward.

bendhur:

Bendhur

Don’t worry, if you’re a good girl while I punish you, I’ll give you my cock to suck on after as a reward.

92 notes

#bdsm

#d/s

How she greets her Master when he returns home..

How she greets her Master when he returns home..

380 notes

#bdsm

#d/s

#punishment

summer love

summer love

6 notes

#sex

eenslaved:

"No more panties from now on for you, isn’t that right, lamb?"
"Yes," she sobbed. She was lying on the leather couch, her sweater shoved up to her chin and her skirt flipped up, bared to the room, and the camera. She was heaving under his hands. "No, no more."
"That’s correct. You may tell the camera why there are no more panties for you."
"Oh!" She panted loudly through her open mouth, then squealed as her nipple was rudely and quite briskly pinched in swift admonishment.
"Focus," he said firmly, even as his fingers continued to caress her in gentle, rubbing strokes. "Put your hands back up to the side, that’s it. You must want the camera to see me punish you. You know what happens if I feel you’re not paying proper attention, my little lamb."
It was clearly a struggle for her to concentrate. “N-no panties because….b-because I’m ooooooh OH god, because I’m a bad girl!” she cried. “Please, please!”
"That’s correct. Bad girls aren’t allowed to wear panties. But you really must be more precise. You may tell the camera why bad girls aren’t allowed to wear panties," he prompted, still moving his fingers, but moving them lower this time, just barely penetrating her.
Her head thrashed. “Oouhhhhh.” She was blind, deaf, and dumb in that moment, which was unacceptable. She knew better. He had taught her to be better in previous sessions that took place in the special office hours he made for her.
His fingers ground down and twisted around on one nipple, while his other hand came down rapidly to deliver three hard slaps to her pussy. She screamed and bucked.
"Bad girls can’t wear panties because they wet them!" she wailed.
"Yes, you’re absolutely correct." His fingers went back to gentle plucking and rolling on her abused nipple. His other hand, lower down, moved busily. His thumb brushed her clit and two long, blunt fingers pushed inside her, but just the tips of them. She spread her legs wide, as wide as she could with her cotton panties still trapped around her upper thighs.
As he continued manipulating her sensitive flesh, she whimpered in that way that always reminded him of a young lamb’s bleating.
"And you are a bad girl, aren’t you? Oh yes. Yes, there’s not doubt about it, you are a bad girl. Your panties are always wet when I check them, aren’t they? Describe your panties to the camera, now."
"Yes, they’re wet. Oh, oh, oh please. They-they always have a big wet spot in them," she rambled tearfully.
"Mmhm. Put your hands back where they belong, and if I have to remind you again to keep them there, I’ll frog-tie you on your knees and administer a punishment enema, one you won’t like at all, I can promise you that! Now. Tell the camera, how do you feel when I make you wear a big plug stuffed up your bottom when you go to class?”
"I don’t," her head tossed back and forth. "I don’t like it."
"Why not?"
"It makes me walk funny….people might hear it when I sit down."
"But if that’s so…tell the camera what I found when I checked your panties after class today."
"Ahhh god," her face was suffused red with humiliation. "My panties were wet." Her breath sobbed in and out of her open mouth. "So wet."
"My, my. My cunt just gushed into my hand. Listen. Do you hear how wet my cunt is?”
His fingers moved moistly in and out of her while he drew a peaked nipple into his mouth and sucked.
"You may describe the sound of this wet cunt for the camera," he invited.
She made a plaintive sound, and writhed, straining. “It—it’s—”
"It?" His hand squeezed her breast in warning.
"Your cunt," she choked out. Her entire body was quivering. Wriggling like a worm he had baited so well. " Your cunt is…your cunt sounds juicy, ahhh." She moaned with abject humiliation.
"My cunt just leaked….copiously," he immediately informed her, and the camera, while he thrust and turned his fingers inside of her.
For the moment, he went back to kissing her breasts, sucking and pulling at her nipples with his mouth until they were long and reddened and pointed out in the air in a plain invitation for more of his attention. He flicked them in turns. All the while, his fingers toyed with her cunt. He had added another digit and now thrust three fingers in and out of her. He added a fourth finger.
Her hands, placed on either side of her head, kept opening and closing, then turned to claw at the leather of the couch. She writhed gloriously beneath his touch. The camera would pick up everything, every last detail, including the glistening secretions she’d left on the leather, and the slippery shine on her inner thighs. It would certainly pick up her begging.
His fingers scissored and spread her folds open, exposing her cunt to the camera’s eye.
"Yes," he told her, "you have quite the leaky cunt, don’t you, my girl? Here, taste it for yourself. Go on, smell and lick the proof of just how leaky this cunt is." He removed his fingers from her cunt with a sloppy, wet sound that made her cry out with disappointment, and then he was holding his hand in front of her, smearing those fingers on her face and covering her nose and mouth with them. She opened her mouth and sucked desperately, hoping he would replace his hand between her legs.
He jabbed his fingers deeper into her mouth, and she gagged around them, still begging very prettily, though unintelligibly. He would perhaps ask her to recite her pleas later, nude, in front of the camera of course. Perhaps he would have her repeat the things she begged him to do while he had her spread her the globes of her own ass for the camera. Or, with her lovely body bound tight and strung up, with outrageous weights swinging from her nipples. That would provide good incentive indeed for her to make her recitation a spirited and heartfelt one.
"Just smell how much this cunt has drooled all over my hand. This cunt is quite often dripping into your panties and making quite a sopping mess of them. That’s why no panties for you anymore, you’ll only wet them, so there’s no point. We’ll go to your apartment later and you’ll show me all your panties, and we’ll cut them up together, won’t we?"
"Yes, Professor," she mumbled inarticulately against his fingers that distorted her speech.
"Look at the camera," he reminded her.
She opened her eyes and looked. The things he had her say! The things he did to her — the things he had her do! All these things the camera had witnessed. She crawled, she sucked, she fucked - his cock, and the toys he gave her to permission to fuck. He always provided her with a copy of the videos. She kept them, of course. She watched them in bed on her laptop with headphones plugged in while she touched herself. When she got too excited, she would call him and beg for permission to come.
Sometimes he said no.
Sometimes he said yes.
Sometimes he said yes, but only after she had earned it.
The things she did to earn it…
(Read part 2 here.)

eenslaved:

"No more panties from now on for you, isn’t that right, lamb?"

"Yes," she sobbed. She was lying on the leather couch, her sweater shoved up to her chin and her skirt flipped up, bared to the room, and the camera. She was heaving under his hands. "No, no more."

"That’s correct. You may tell the camera why there are no more panties for you."

"Oh!" She panted loudly through her open mouth, then squealed as her nipple was rudely and quite briskly pinched in swift admonishment.

"Focus," he said firmly, even as his fingers continued to caress her in gentle, rubbing strokes. "Put your hands back up to the side, that’s it. You must want the camera to see me punish you. You know what happens if I feel you’re not paying proper attention, my little lamb."

It was clearly a struggle for her to concentrate. “N-no panties because….b-because I’m ooooooh OH god, because I’m a bad girl!” she cried. “Please, please!”

"That’s correct. Bad girls aren’t allowed to wear panties. But you really must be more precise. You may tell the camera why bad girls aren’t allowed to wear panties," he prompted, still moving his fingers, but moving them lower this time, just barely penetrating her.

Her head thrashed. “Oouhhhhh.” She was blind, deaf, and dumb in that moment, which was unacceptable. She knew better. He had taught her to be better in previous sessions that took place in the special office hours he made for her.

His fingers ground down and twisted around on one nipple, while his other hand came down rapidly to deliver three hard slaps to her pussy. She screamed and bucked.

"Bad girls can’t wear panties because they wet them!" she wailed.

"Yes, you’re absolutely correct." His fingers went back to gentle plucking and rolling on her abused nipple. His other hand, lower down, moved busily. His thumb brushed her clit and two long, blunt fingers pushed inside her, but just the tips of them. She spread her legs wide, as wide as she could with her cotton panties still trapped around her upper thighs.

As he continued manipulating her sensitive flesh, she whimpered in that way that always reminded him of a young lamb’s bleating.

"And you are a bad girl, aren’t you? Oh yes. Yes, there’s not doubt about it, you are a bad girl. Your panties are always wet when I check them, aren’t they? Describe your panties to the camera, now."

"Yes, they’re wet. Oh, oh, oh please. They-they always have a big wet spot in them," she rambled tearfully.

"Mmhm. Put your hands back where they belong, and if I have to remind you again to keep them there, I’ll frog-tie you on your knees and administer a punishment enema, one you won’t like at all, I can promise you that! Now. Tell the camera, how do you feel when I make you wear a big plug stuffed up your bottom when you go to class?”

"I don’t," her head tossed back and forth. "I don’t like it."

"Why not?"

"It makes me walk funny….people might hear it when I sit down."

"But if that’s so…tell the camera what I found when I checked your panties after class today."

"Ahhh god," her face was suffused red with humiliation. "My panties were wet." Her breath sobbed in and out of her open mouth. "So wet."

"My, my. My cunt just gushed into my hand. Listen. Do you hear how wet my cunt is?”

His fingers moved moistly in and out of her while he drew a peaked nipple into his mouth and sucked.

"You may describe the sound of this wet cunt for the camera," he invited.

She made a plaintive sound, and writhed, straining. “It—it’s—”

"It?" His hand squeezed her breast in warning.

"Your cunt," she choked out. Her entire body was quivering. Wriggling like a worm he had baited so well. " Your cunt is…your cunt sounds juicy, ahhh." She moaned with abject humiliation.

"My cunt just leaked….copiously," he immediately informed her, and the camera, while he thrust and turned his fingers inside of her.

For the moment, he went back to kissing her breasts, sucking and pulling at her nipples with his mouth until they were long and reddened and pointed out in the air in a plain invitation for more of his attention. He flicked them in turns. All the while, his fingers toyed with her cunt. He had added another digit and now thrust three fingers in and out of her. He added a fourth finger.

Her hands, placed on either side of her head, kept opening and closing, then turned to claw at the leather of the couch. She writhed gloriously beneath his touch. The camera would pick up everything, every last detail, including the glistening secretions she’d left on the leather, and the slippery shine on her inner thighs. It would certainly pick up her begging.

His fingers scissored and spread her folds open, exposing her cunt to the camera’s eye.

"Yes," he told her, "you have quite the leaky cunt, don’t you, my girl? Here, taste it for yourself. Go on, smell and lick the proof of just how leaky this cunt is." He removed his fingers from her cunt with a sloppy, wet sound that made her cry out with disappointment, and then he was holding his hand in front of her, smearing those fingers on her face and covering her nose and mouth with them. She opened her mouth and sucked desperately, hoping he would replace his hand between her legs.

He jabbed his fingers deeper into her mouth, and she gagged around them, still begging very prettily, though unintelligibly. He would perhaps ask her to recite her pleas later, nude, in front of the camera of course. Perhaps he would have her repeat the things she begged him to do while he had her spread her the globes of her own ass for the camera. Or, with her lovely body bound tight and strung up, with outrageous weights swinging from her nipples. That would provide good incentive indeed for her to make her recitation a spirited and heartfelt one.

"Just smell how much this cunt has drooled all over my hand. This cunt is quite often dripping into your panties and making quite a sopping mess of them. That’s why no panties for you anymore, you’ll only wet them, so there’s no point. We’ll go to your apartment later and you’ll show me all your panties, and we’ll cut them up together, won’t we?"

"Yes, Professor," she mumbled inarticulately against his fingers that distorted her speech.

"Look at the camera," he reminded her.

She opened her eyes and looked. The things he had her say! The things he did to her — the things he had her do! All these things the camera had witnessed. She crawled, she sucked, she fucked - his cock, and the toys he gave her to permission to fuck. He always provided her with a copy of the videos. She kept them, of course. She watched them in bed on her laptop with headphones plugged in while she touched herself. When she got too excited, she would call him and beg for permission to come.

Sometimes he said no.

Sometimes he said yes.

Sometimes he said yes, but only after she had earned it.

The things she did to earn it…


(Read part 2 here.)

135 notes

#bdsm

#erotica

#d/s

#dominant

#submissive

eenslaved:

…
Jeremy was also firm about her remaining unclothed while in the apartment. Her clothes were kept in a wardrobe that was locked, and only Jeremy had the key. She was afforded only a robe that hung by the front door, in the event someone unexpected turned up, or she had to receive a package delivery. Otherwise, there was nothing in the apartment for her to wear, unless Jeremy let her have an outfit.
Instead of tutoring him, instead Emily was to serve as his kept slut. Her only job, Jeremy said, was to ensure she remained available to pleasure his cock. Clothing was not permitted, as they would hinder his ready access to her sex.
Jeremy had ways of training her to please him. He expected her attention to be dedicated on his cock. To this end, he would often make her insert a vibrating dildo and tape a smaller bullet vibrator to her clit before she sucked him off. If she faltered at all from attending to his cock, being too caught up in her own pleasure, she was soundly disciplined for her inattention and failure. “Dereliction of duty,” Jeremy called it, “receives a punishment of four from the cane, upon which one strike will be added with each repeated offense. That should give you the proper motivation.” A cock-slave’s pleasure must never supersede her Master’s. As she was now up to nine stripes from the cane should she be less than totally diligent servicing his cock, she had learned to keeping sucking his cock as if her life depended on it, even through her own climax.
In the bedroom, Jeremy had an old steam trunk, a leftover artifact from his grandfather. Jeremy called it the Toy Chest. Not because he kept toys in it; no, all his toys were tidily shelved in a section in his closet where she could fetch an implement if he told her to. No, he called it the Toy Chest because sometimes when he had friends or guests over, he made her get inside it. She was the toy.
(Continue reading “The Tutor”)
This is an excerpt of my submission to this week’s #dungeoncrawl. Read the rest of this story here. Comments very much appreciated! Jeremy and Emily’s story swept out of the blue for me, and I am thinking about revisiting them in the future. Share your thoughts for them? Then, learn about the RTK Dungeon Crawl here.

This taps into so many of my kinks..another glorious story. thank you, e!

eenslaved:


Jeremy was also firm about her remaining unclothed while in the apartment. Her clothes were kept in a wardrobe that was locked, and only Jeremy had the key. She was afforded only a robe that hung by the front door, in the event someone unexpected turned up, or she had to receive a package delivery. Otherwise, there was nothing in the apartment for her to wear, unless Jeremy let her have an outfit.

Instead of tutoring him, instead Emily was to serve as his kept slut. Her only job, Jeremy said, was to ensure she remained available to pleasure his cock. Clothing was not permitted, as they would hinder his ready access to her sex.

Jeremy had ways of training her to please him. He expected her attention to be dedicated on his cock. To this end, he would often make her insert a vibrating dildo and tape a smaller bullet vibrator to her clit before she sucked him off. If she faltered at all from attending to his cock, being too caught up in her own pleasure, she was soundly disciplined for her inattention and failure. “Dereliction of duty,” Jeremy called it, “receives a punishment of four from the cane, upon which one strike will be added with each repeated offense. That should give you the proper motivation.” A cock-slave’s pleasure must never supersede her Master’s. As she was now up to nine stripes from the cane should she be less than totally diligent servicing his cock, she had learned to keeping sucking his cock as if her life depended on it, even through her own climax.

In the bedroom, Jeremy had an old steam trunk, a leftover artifact from his grandfather. Jeremy called it the Toy Chest. Not because he kept toys in it; no, all his toys were tidily shelved in a section in his closet where she could fetch an implement if he told her to. No, he called it the Toy Chest because sometimes when he had friends or guests over, he made her get inside it. She was the toy.

(Continue reading “The Tutor”)


This is an excerpt of my submission to this week’s #dungeoncrawl. Read the rest of this story here. Comments very much appreciated! Jeremy and Emily’s story swept out of the blue for me, and I am thinking about revisiting them in the future. Share your thoughts for them? Then, learn about the RTK Dungeon Crawl here.

This taps into so many of my kinks..another glorious story. thank you, e!

32 notes

#eenslaved

#erotica

#bdsm

#bondage

#sex slave

Now thank me for clamping your nipples.

I know you don’t like to wear them but your nipples look so pretty with them on.

Because I want you to wear them.

Now thank me for clamping your nipples.

I know you don’t like to wear them but your nipples look so pretty with them on.

Because I want you to wear them.

(via bendhur)

266 notes

#bdsm

#bondage

#d/s

#nipple clamps


Ropes: Norio Sugiura
Model: MiyaSaki Shiho




Does anyone know what the Japanese writing says?

Ropes: Norio Sugiura

Model: MiyaSaki Shiho

Does anyone know what the Japanese writing says?

(via deluxo11)

207 notes

#bdsm

#bondage

Training his bride

Training his bride

(via sirbind)

1,495 notes

#bdsm

#bondage

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