Fetish + BDSM Fiction

by: Inbetween (this story is, obviously, a (extreme) fantasy) The first thing I notice as I come down the stairs, is the smell: a heady mixture of poppers, smoke, stale piss, and somewhere, faint but definitely present, shit. The second thing I notice is - holy fuck - this is a real dungeon. Like the ones you usually only read about in porn stories. Brick walls, a vaulted ceiling, thick metal rings everywhere, and a bunch of shelves, neatly organised, filled with all kinds of dildos, whips, canes and other instruments of torture.

He’s grinning at me while I’m taking it all in, and hands me a black plastic bag.  “Strip, and put everything in here.” It sounds like a suggestion, but something about him makes me do it without hesitation. While here, he is in absolute command. By the time I’m finished, he’s retrieved some stuff from the back.
 “Kneel. Legs open”.
He puts the bowl between my knees, and this time, the smell is neither faint, nor easy to mistake: dogshit. A big pile of tu...

by RougeAgent Master Dom Chapter  1 I was taught to be a dom by a true master. When he walked in the room, the atmosphere changed. He had this amazing ability to look at a sub and know how to break him and make him submit. Master had a network of doms who broke and trained subs to meet the clients' wishes. It was quite a successful business, and master rubbed elbows with some of the wealthiest people in the world. I'm not sure how many of us there are, but I'm guessing more than a dozen. I learned so much from him, but apparently not enough. I've trained pain pigs, piss pigs, fems, sissies, you name it. But with Ryan, all I had to do was train him to be an oral sub: one of the easiest assignments. I was starting to worry because the client wanted him ready in 7 days and I couldn't stop his gag reflex. Then it hit me, why bang my head against the wall when I can consult with Master. I called him, and after a moment of pause...

From: Rubber Dog Part I - Knock, knock Mark stood in front of the door. Number 34 it said, looked like the right place, it was certainly the right road, it just didn't look like anything special. Just someone's house on an ordinary road. The only thing he'd noticed about it was the motorbike parked ouside which he'd seen as soon as he'd turned the corner at the top of the road and started checking the house numbers. He didn't know much about bikes, he didn't even have a license, but he found them exciting; some bikes just looked hot, and a cute guy in leathers and a pair of motorcross boots sitting on a machine like this always got him hard. So he knew this must be the right house, this had to be the guy. Still standing by the door, he looked at his watch, 2.56pm. He'd said three o'clock. Mark licked his lips, his mouth felt dry - he was nervous. Should he knock now, or walk round the block and be spot on time? This guy had sounded ...