Sex Stories by Letter ] [ Sex Story of the Week ] [ Story Forums ] [ Adult Personals ]
Sex Toys & Videos ] [ More Sex Stories ] [ Submit Stories ] [ Links ] [ Webmasters ]
Archived Sex Stories

An Evening of Submission


He lay beside he beside her, the fire warming her pale skin. He slowly
stroked his hand across her skin, savoring the sight of her body stretched
there before him, her entirety bared to his eyes and his hands.

She slept soundly, the exertion from earlier weighing heavily on her,
her body taxed. She roused only a little when he teased the tips of her
reddened, tender nipples. He smiles, leaving them alone, returning to
gently caressing her.

He can still smell her scent from their love making earlier that
evening. He knew that they should move to the bed, that he needed his rest
as much as she did but the events of the week, the day had caught up with
him and he needed some time to wind down.

He bent down and kissed the gentle curve of her neck, tasting the sheen
of sweat that had gathered there, drawn from the heat of their earlier
exertion and from the heat of the fire. He tasted her, savoring her
flavor, her taste still evoking a certain rush from him.

He sighed, lying there propped up on one elbow, looking over her and
into the fire, watching the flickering of the flames, the shadows dancing
as his mind replayed the events of the day.

It had been a terrible day, simply anything that could go wrong, did go
wrong. It simply hadn't let up all day. Finally five o'clock had come and
he had left the office, leaving several things to do in the morning.

She had been kneeling, completely nude, when he walked into the house.
When he saw her, he forgot it all. The troubles, the worries had simply
disappeared. The site of her before him, on her knees, arms held tight
behind her back, head held high, eyes down cast, her long auburn hair
pulled tight into a neat tail at the back of her head. Her breasts, pale
with dark nipples, rose and fell with each breath she took, breast thrust
out by the arch of her back, accentuated by the pull of her arms held
behind her back.

Her knees were spread at just the right angle, not obscenely, not hiding
anything. Her cleanly shaven sex, aroused, open, and her smooth thighs
accentuated them, leading the way to the treasures that she held.

It was only after he had stood there for a minute, maybe longer as time
had simply ceased, that he realized the house was filled with the aroma of
a wonderful dinner that she had prepared for him. The warm aroma of
burgundy beef permeated his senses and he took a deep breath to drink it

He smiled softly, perhaps the first smile that had crossed his face all
day. He stepped towards her, gently caressing her face and hair, feeling
her relax and melt into his hand.

She had then moved to remove his shoes, gently caressing his tired feet
as she removed his shoes. She then gently massaged up the back of his legs
and back, reaching gently around and undoing the buttons on his shirt,
slipping from his shoulders, then quickly carrying them off to the laundry.

He moved to the dining room and just as he had expected, his chair was
pulled back from the table, a glass of fine cabernet poured and waiting for
him. He took a seat just as she returned and knelt beside him, her eyes
watching his every movement. He reached out to caress her face again,
feeling her press softly into his hand, running his fingers through her
hair, playing softly with the tail of hair pulled behind her.

When he had sipped a little of his wine, he nodded to her, watching her
supple form moving gracefully from his side to the kitchen. He took
another sip of wine, listening to the soft sounds of her finishing
preparations for dinner. In a moment, she returned with a dish of sautéed
mushrooms, setting them before him, and kneeling by his side again.
Reaching up, she took a mushroom with her fingers and offered it to him,
placing it gently in his mouth. He playfully nipped at her fingers as he
took the mushroom.

He nodded to her and she took one for herself, quickly placing it in her
mouth and chewing it. He watched her, thinking that she was lovely and
sexy even as she ate. He nodded to her again, letting her take another for
herself before letting her feed the rest to him.

When the burgundy mushrooms were gone she let him suckle the remains
from her fingers, knowing that he loved to nibble them just to the point it
was torture for her to continue to hold them still, and yet, she loved it
just as much as he did. He then reached down and ran his finger along her
slit, gathering her flavor and bringing it to his lips, licking it from the
tip of his finger, then letting her suckle his finger, cleaning her juices
from it.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he relaxed further. Gathering the
serving dish, she returned to the kitchen while he sat and sipped the rest
of the glass of wine. She served up two bowls of burgundy, tearing a
serving of bread from the fresh loaf she had baked earlier that day, and
hoped desperately that he enjoyed the meal.

Gracefully she carried the two bowls into the room, sitting one in front
of him, and the other just to his right side, kneeling beside him again.
When he smiled at her, she took a spoon and dipped it into the bowl,
sipping a first bite, then offering a second bite to him. Through the
evening she slowly fed him, occasionally taking a bite from her bowl.

As she fed him, he watched her, savoring the sight of her, his hands
wandering over her. As she would lean to reach for her bowl, he would
caress her hip and thigh, then returning to her back and side, cupping her
breasts from time to time, teasing a nipple, pinching it occasionally.

He was careful not to touch or tease her sex, though he could feel the
heat radiating from it, noting that her sex was becoming more aroused and
swollen as the evening progressed. Instead, he simply continued to caress
her soft skin, admiring her delicate features, twirling her hair.

As the meal progressed, she continued to serve him in silence, the
sounds only of her breathing, moving to feed him. The scent of her arousal
grew in the air, mingling with the rich smell of the burgundy beef and the
rich red wine. Soon enough the food was gone, despite seconds by both of
them, and then it was time for dessert.

He reached for her, pulling her to him after she had cleaned the bowl
they had shared with a small piece of bread. He bent and kissed her, long
and deep, tongue exploring her mouth, pulling and lifting her as he kissed
her, lifting her up onto the table and gently laying her back.

Kissing softly, her chin, then the side of her neck, down onto her
chest, between her breasts, lifting a glass of wine and pouring a few drops
onto her cleavage, then drinking it from her skin, tongue teasing,
tormenting her. His face brushed against her breasts, and occasionally her
nipples that were hard and swollen with her need.

Moving downward, he continued his kissing and exploring of her flesh,
placing a soft kiss just beneath each breast, the down across her stomach,
admiring the soft curves of her femininity, teasing her navel with his
tongue, then down towards her soft sex. As her reached the top of her sex,
her legs splayed wide, her pelvis arched up to meet his kisses, moving of a
mind of their own, her desire to please him, to give herself fully to him
most evident.

Sitting back in his chair, he watched her their for a moment, time
frozen, meaningless, the hectic day lost forever in this moment, peace and
contentment washing through them, through him, watching nothing more than
the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the small tremors that ran
through her body, inhaling her scent, her arousal, the sweet smell of her.
He sighed at that moment, a soft smile, and then, leaning forward, began
his dessert.

He flicked the tip of his tongue over her sex, finding her slit, running
down then back up her slit, finding her clit and teasing it, flicking it
roughly with his tongue. He pressed down and grazing it with his teeth,
sucking it into his mouth and softly nibbling on it, feeling her response.
Holding it between his teeth, he flicked his tongue back and forth over the
tip, driving her to a struggle of will, struggling to hold her position, to
push forward or pull away, wanting more, wanting the torment to stop all at
the same time, her desire to please him overriding it all. Small tremors
running through her body despite her best efforts and still he tormented
her clit, biting on it a bit harder as the intensity of the spasms that
rocked through her grew.

She screamed out in agony and pleasures then, the sound piercing through
his soul, pleasing in its primal need. He began to pull on her clit with
his teeth, her back arching up, trying to relieve the strain, then easing
slightly and letting it scrape through his teeth and releasing it.

The moan that escaped her lips just then was a beautiful sound, as rich
in meaning and intensity as a symphony. He was reminded of the words of
his mentor just then, "A woman is like a fine violin, anyone can make
noise, but only a master can play her to make wonderful music." He loved
her music, her instrument, and after a pause, like the break between scores
in a concert, he reached to spread the lips of her sex, thumbs spreading
her, opening her sex to his eyes, watching the drop of her nectar that had
gathered at the opening to her fall, running down and onto the tablecloth.

He bent and ran his tongue along the delicate skin below her sex,
tracing up over her sex, tasting her, drinking her, then dipping into her
well, tracing the rim of her cunt, running around it with his tongue, then
plunging into her, forcing his tongue as deep into her as he could push it,
thrusting it into her, then pumping into her again and again, feeling her
rise to meet this pressure, needing it, needing more.

More moans escaped her lips as she writhed beneath him and just as they
were starting to crescendo, he withdrew, still holding her leg apart. He
slowly ran his tongue from the tender area just below her cunt, up through
her slit, over her clit and then over her mons, her stomach, her cleavage,
her neck and then kissing her. As he did, he reached slowly for the
nearest candle, breaking the kiss as he removed the candle from the

A sly grin escaped as he slowly stood, looking down at her, her hands
grasping the edges of the table, her chest heaving with her ragged breath.
A fine sheen of sweat covered her body, glistening in the soft light. A
fine tremor ran through her body when her eyes parted and saw him standing
above her, the candle flickering in the quiet air.

He bent and kissed her again, quietly, softly, a soft brush across her
lips. Then taking the candle, he tilted it slightly, a drop of wax
beginning to form along the top edge of the candle. Moving it slowly back
and forth over her lower face, they both watched the drop of wax grow,
watching it start to fall from the taper. The moment slowed in time, their
breathing slowing, stopped, held there in the instant.

He moved the candle just a fraction, a slight adjustment, and the first
drop of wax slowly cut through the air, landing on her chin. A gasp
escaped her, as time again returned to normal, the searing heat slowly
becoming a familiar warm glow, the gasp turning into a soft moan.

Mesmerized, he watched her, the sensations adding to her need and
desire, the pleasure rushing through her body. The next drop was already
formed, and he positioned it so that the next drop fell on the tender skin
just below her thin black leather collar. He tipped the candle a bit
further, letting the wax melt more quickly, dropping and filling the
sternal notch, the soft indentation of tender skin between the neck and

Each drop sent a shudder, a spasm, through her body. He felt each one
as he leaned over her, feeling as much as hearing each gasp as it slowly
turned into a moan. A soft sigh of intense pleasure escaped his own lips,
joining the sounds of his slave as they filled the air.

The next few drops of wax fell between her breasts, each adding to the
intensity of the burn, each one slowly fading, only to be replaced by the
next sting and burn of a new drop forming, falling, molding to her skin.

He coated the gentle curve between her breasts, letting a few stray
drops fall on the tender skin of each breasts, varying the pattern, never
letting her know where the next will fall. Her eyes were closed as she
simply let the sensations flow through her, letting him use her, letting
the pleasure raise her to new heights where there was no him or her, here
or there, then or now. In this place there was nothing and everything,
melded as one.

Then he knew that she was there. He let a final drop of wax fall onto
the top edge of her slit, having left a trail of wax across her abdomen. A
final gasp, nearly a scream, arose from within her, cried out, piercing the
air, cutting through the soul. He snuffed the candle with his fingers,
feeling the heat just as she did, watching her as he dropped his pants.

He entered her, placing his cock at the entrance to her and sliding
slowly into her, one smooth motion. He felt her spasm down around his
cock, feeling the orgasm rock through her, hearing her scream, savoring the
feel of her hot and tight, gripping him and holding him.

She writhed on the table, a glass of water flying off the table,
spilling onto the floor, the glass breaking. Lost in the throes of her
passion she knew nothing, knew not that he was stroking slowly in and out
of her, rolling her nipples between his fingers, that he was slowly
building towards his own release.

Only the feel of him exploding inside of her, making her orgasm rise
again to sweep over her, awakened a distant part of her. He drove deep
into her, planting his seed in her, she grasping him tightly with her sex,
milking him with her cunt. His groans were music to her ears, his gasping
and breathing matching the ragged breaths that she drew in between the
spasm that continued to ravage her body.

He collapsed on top of her, holding her tightly, her arms slowly moving
up and holding him, gently caressing his back, fingers raking over his skin
softly, raising chills across his skin. She continued to milk his cock,
prolonging his orgasm, making him shudder involuntarily.

Then he raised himself up on his arms, looking into her eyes,
whispering, "I love you." Bending down to kiss her softly, pulling her up
and into his lap, holding her there until their breathing returned to
normal. A chill started to come over him, she sensed it and whispered
softly, "Shall I get your robe Master?" He nodded and felt her slip from
his lap, his eyes closed, savoring the feel of the moment, the relaxation
comforting him. He felt her soft touch return, slipping the silk rode
about his shoulders, caressing him gently through the soft fabric. Pulling
her around, he kissed her softly, holding her, feeling her body press tight
against him, the soft silk separating them, his body comparing the feel of
her with and without the silk. He released her. "Clean the mess you made
of the table and floor." He said with a wicked grin, "I will go make a
fire, join me there when you are done." He turned and walked into the den,
watching a small blush rise to her cheeks as she looked and saw the mess on
the floor, the broken water glass and utensils that had fallen there during
the height of their passion. She quickly got to work, cleaning the table
and floor while he went into the next room and started a fire in the
fireplace, the logs catching quickly, the warmth quickly filling the room.
He stood there and let the fire slowly warm him, the heat rising and
penetrating his skin, slowly turning to warm all of him, almost as if he
were being slowly roasted on a spit. The sounds from the kitchen slowed
and ended a few minutes later. He watched her approach, head bowed, and
assume her position at his feet, kneeling. He watched the firelight play
against her soft skin, watched her sit motionless, perfect posture and
position. He reached down and softly caressed her face, and her eyes moved
up to meet his, her eyes twinkling still from the lust of the scene between
them earlier. He placed his hand under her chin and lifted her to her
feet, bending slightly and kissing her, wrapping his arms around her,
holding her in a tight embrace. They stood like that for a while, for a
long while in fact, bodies pressed tight against each other, she holding
him, gently massaging the still tense muscles in his back, while he held
her tightly, letting the warm sensation of her body against his drain away
the last of the days worries. After a while the heat from the fire on his
back began to be uncomfortable and he broke the embrace. He turned and sat
in the armchair by the mantle while she knelt by the fire warming her self.
He watched her, the firelight playing on her skin, and watched her darting
her eyes up to watch him. He smiled at her and continued to watch her,
knowing that she wanted to say something else to him, wanted something
else, but knowing that she shouldn't speak. After a while of just savoring
the cackle of the fire, the old dried oak logs burning with a sweet smell,
he decided it was time. "Go get my crop." He said to her, watched with
pride as she hurried up from her position to do his biding without even so
much as a second glance. He expected that this is what she had wanted to
ask of him. While he was no mind reader, he knew that the fireplace with
its specially placed brass 'decorative' eyebolts was one of her favorite
places to be tied when he whipped her. In just a moment she returned, his
favorite black crop she carried in her hands, palms open and up with the
crop lying across them. That she had also taken the initiative to bring
two silk ropes with her from the bedroom held promise as well. Perhaps he
wasn't the only one with a little bit of telepathy this evening. He smiles
and took the crop from her as she knelt before him, then taking the silk
rope and tying one end around each wrist, he stood, pulling her with him,
and looped the other end through the eyebolts above the fire place. He
pulled on the ropes, stretching her until she was standing straight, back
arched slightly, heels just off the ground, accentuating the curve of her
ass and legs. He thought back to when she had first come to him, when the
nervousness and excitement off the crop forced them to tie her tightly,
even using a spreader bar to hold her feet still. Now, though, she was
still anxious, excited perhaps, such that he could smell her arousal and
see the fine glow that she was beginning to emit. Her glow came from
inside her, from her heat, not from the fire that had mellowed into the
soft glow of the embers from the last log. Watching her bound there
excited him, and he lightly traced down the side of her body with the tip
of the crop. Starting at her wrist, down her arm, the side of her breast,
her ribs, her hip, the soft curve of her ass, the gentle sway of her thighs
and calves. He watched her try to suppress a small shiver, the way she
tensed and trembled, not from fear but from arousal.

After tracing one side and then the other with the tip of the crop,
watching her muscles beginning to shake from her desire, seeing the lust
and need in her eyes when he stepped forward and kissed her softly on the
lip, he stepped to her side and drew back with the crop.

The sound of the tightly wound leather biting into her flesh, the sharp
intake of breath, the tensing and release of her muscles, the black against
her lightly tanned skin, all this, their senses took and savored. He
savored it with his eyes and ears and mind, she with her touch, her ears
and eyes, her mind. He through his domination, her through her submission,
two people, one experience, a shared joy in the other.

He raised the crop again and let it fall against her flesh, again and
again it fell, sometimes stopping to trace a faint red welt with the tip of
a finger or the tip of the crop. Tonight was more about the experience
that about any agenda between them. Each motion was almost as it had a
life of its own as he lost himself in her submission, she losing herself to
him through her pain, her submission.

It was sometime later that he noticed her breath was becoming ragged. A
tear rolled down her cheek and slowly fell to the floor. A gasp of breath
escaped her and he laid down the crop, stepped behind her and shedding his
robe, reached down to run a finger along her slit, knowing that she was
went beyond belief from her experience.

Placing his cock at the entrance to her, he slid into her with one
smooth motion, filling her, burying him into her. He then drew all the way
out, teased the tip of his cock at her entrance before sliding all the way
back into her. In and out, he repeated that sequence, each time pushing
deep within her, almost lifting from her feet with each thrust. In a few
minutes she was panting hard, then crying out, pleading.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"Let go, let it go."

And she did, letting her orgasm rush over her, the spasms of her orgasm
drawing out his own and adding to the intensity of her own. He held her
tight, pushing deep with in her, feeling each of them moving and responding
to the deep sensation that tore through them.

He held tightly onto her, keeping his balance, but she was limp in her
bonds now, the ropes the only thing holding her up. He slipped from her
and releasing the ropes from the wall, picked her up and carried her to the
sofa where he lay her beside him, curled around her, feeling her breathing
slowly returning to normal.

He quietly listened to her, each breath returning a bit of peace to her
ravaged body, the cadence of her breathing lulling him to sleep. He roused
briefly when she slipped from his arms to get a blanket and cover them

A short time later, he awoke, looking at the fire and seeing that the
embers were still glowing brightly. He felt her stir beside him, he softly
caressed her back, reaching around and finding a breast, hearing a soft
sigh escape her lips.

He grabbed her and sat up on the couch, pulling her so that she was on
his lap, his cock springing to life from the brief rest. He slid forward
and positioned her so that her sex was just over his cock. He slid deep
inside her with one smooth motion, holding her there in his lap, nibbling
on her neck, fondling her breasts.

Then he lifted her again, she helping to hold her body steady, reaching
down to hold his cock and position it at the entrance to her ass. He
slowly let her weight down, letting her slide down on his cock with her ass
stretching as she tried to relax to accommodate him.

After several ups and downs, he was buried in her ass. He held her
there and she clenched and released her ass muscles over and over to
stimulate him and bring him to orgasm. He reached forward to fondle her
nipples, pinching them and rolling them between his fingers. His hand
drifted down and found her clit, teasing it, massaging it as he nibbled on
an earlobe and continued to roll a nipple with his other hand.

He whispered for her to start lifting herself and fucking herself slowly
with his cock in her ass. She reached behind her to gain leverage, her
hand pushing against his chest as she began to rock up and down on his
cock, his hands working now on her clit and cunt, teasing and fingering

As she rocked up and down, he began to thrust upwards and into her.
Soon they found their rhythm and were working towards their climax. She
continued to lightly clench her ass each time she lifted up and to relax on
each down stroke, effectively milking his cock and bringing him to his
third release of the evening much more quickly than he expected.

Just as he exploded into her ass, he reached up to pinch both her
nipples, feeling her jerk and start her own orgasm, their convulsions,
leading her to lose her balance and fall forward, pulling him with her as
he struggled to control their fall so as to hurt neither of them.

They landed on the floor in front of the dying fire, his cock still in
her ass. They each took a deep breath and he pulled her close to him,
holding her tightly. He felt the shudders and tremors slowly relinquish
her body to sleep, and soon her breathing was slow and steady beside him.
When he pulled his softening cock from her ass, she roused only briefly to
make sure he was comfortable, then slipped back into the sleep of the
deeply contented.

It was late by now, he was sure. The clock in the foyer had just
chimed, but he had been half asleep when it had rung and he hadn't counted
the number of chimes. He knew that it was early in the morning, or
perhaps, technically, very late.

He stooped to pick up his beautiful slave and carried her to bed, laying
her down and feeling her curl up around him, her breast pressing tight
against his back. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.


Sex stories by alphabet: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z


© 2003 Sex Stories Archive. All rights reserved.