Melissa looked at the paint peeling from the doorframe; her clenched fist tightened as it was about to bang on the wooden door. She checked the number once more. It was number nine and this was Fleetwood Street. She had too many questions running around in her head. Why was she standing here? How had she gotten herself into this situation? Who was behind this? She knew why, of course, but she didn’t understand how she had...

As soon as Melissa found time, she opened up the Fetlife website and searched for a user called MelissaSucks. She found her and she found the same images that she had been sent in the email. She saw her profile, except she didn’t write it and it wasn’t finished. There were sections ready to be written and she wondered what they would say. The first section was already filled in and she was surprised to see images taken at...

It had only been two days since Melissa’s last outing when she heard from her so-called Master. It was a text message from a number she didn’t recognise. Obviously, he had changed phones since last week. She had taken to thinking of her master as a ‘he’, she didn’t know why. The message was curt, and yet it said everything it needed to say and it invited a reply, so she dutifully took it upon herself to find out more deta...

Melissa made it to the restaurant on time and sat at their usual table, albeit sixteen hours later than normal. She studied the menu as if it was all new to her, though she wasn’t reading it, she was thinking about the last twenty-four hours between the legs of Juicy. She looked at her phone when it beeped to find that the text was from her husband. His plane had landed and he was on time. Another thirty minutes, he recko...

Melissa sat in the café waiting for Jenny to arrive. They had decided on a mid-week meeting for a change. A catch-up and a chat. The waitress sidled over to her and she ordered a cappuccino for herself, one herbal tea for Jenny, and a couple of flapjack cookies. Jenny arrived just before the coffee and tea and Melissa stood to hug her before they got down to talking about the weather. The weather was always the ice breake...

Melissa started to ignore the Fetlife website after the scare of nearly being caught by her husband. She never realised that the only image that was posted there relating to her last escapade was of her in the shower with her husband. In the image was a closeup of Desmond’s cock. The caption read, getting fucked after she’s had this BBC. Only the naïve would relate that comment to the British Broadcasting Company. Melissa...

Melissa was sifting through her profile on the Fetlife website on her laptop when she received a text message. She was looking over the profile, the one that she didn’t have a password for, even though it detailed everything that she had done in the last few months. She picked up her phone and read the message from her Master in the same cryptic style that she had come to expect. When she questioned the task further, she...

Melissa had spent the last week smiling to herself, remembering how she had been used as a toy, and her session in the taxi ride home, most of all though, she remembered how she sucked and fucked her husband as soon as she had climbed into bed. Her cunt just about swallowed him up and had him ejaculating within fifteen strokes of her convulsing body. She didn’t need that many what with the images of her wanton masturbatio...