Wie immer bist du Pünktlich, entweder aus Angst vor der Strafe oder aus Vorfreude mir dienen zu dürfen. Ich weiß es nicht und es interessiert mich auch nicht, nur das du erscheinst.nnSeit 3 Jahren dienst du mir schon, ich erinnere mich noch daran wie unbeholfen und dumm du dich anfangs angestellt hast. Doch ich habe dich geformt. Körperlich und Geistig vollkommen gemacht und ich bin mit meinem Ergebnis sehr zufrieden.nnUm dir zu zeigen wie Stolz du deine Herrin machst, hatte ich dir diesen Brief geschrieben:nn„Mein Sklave,nnda ich mit deiner Leistung seit 3 Jahren zufrieden bin, du zu einem vollkommenen Sklaven entwickelt hast, möchte ich dir eine besondere Belohnung zukommen lassen.nnDu wirst am xx.xx um 20.00 pünktlich bei mir Rasiert und sauber, so wie du es gelernt hast, erscheinen.nnDeine Belohnung wird ein besonderes 4- Gänge Menü sein, das dir sicherlich so viel Freude bereiten wird wie mir.nnDeine Herrin"nnUnd nun bist du hier, pünktlich und, wie ich es Befahl sorgfältig enthaart und Sauber. In einem edlen schwarzen und kurzen Designerkleid stehe ich vor dir, meine Absätze klackern bei jedem Schritt auf dem Parkett. Wie sensibel du anfangs auf das Geräusch reagiert hattest, als du noch nackt und mit verbundenen Augen vor mir knietest. nnMan konnte deine Unsicherheit und Angst geradezu greifen. Harmlose klackende Geräusche, die dir Ehrfurcht bereiteten. nnDu ahnst noch nicht was es mit diesem Menü auf sich hat, ahnst nicht, das es eigentlich meiner Lust dienen soll. Ein Lächeln erscheint auf meinen Lippen, doch du siehst es aus deiner Sklaven-position nicht.nnDu kniest vor mir, mit leicht gespreizten Beinen und dein Haupt gesenkt. Deine Blicke auf den Boden gerichtet und die Hände auf den Rücken. Mit dem Befehl „ausziehen" entkleidest du dich sofort sehr schnell.

Sweetsubsarahh wrote an amazing article on the "how-tos" of anal sex, and in this writing, I am urging anyone that has not read it, to go there right now and get all the pointers you will ever need to have on the delicate act of anal penetration. Not only does she cover sanitation, but she explains the best way to prepare for it physically, and anyone that follows these guidelines is bound to have a wonderful first time, and many more to follow.nnI open with that statement because my essay on anal sex is coming from a different angle. The "how-to" is already there for anyone in need of educating. This anal sex essay is a more subjective, persuasive view on the subject.nnThere are many women out there that are automatically disgusted by the idea of anal sex. After all, there is a perfectly good entrance only inches away that is less dirty, and penetrating it is a lot simpler in every aspect. I used to be one of those women, and for the first five years of marriage, any suggestion of anal sex was met with such comments as, "Not even on a bet," or "That's an exit, buddy." nnThere was a woman that recently emailed me regarding one of my stories where women engaged in intense anal play that insisted I must be a man, because women are incapable of enjoying anal stimulation. Why? Because we are not equipped with a prostate gland. Ah, but we are all equipped with a huge clustering of nerve endings that can bring exquisite pleasure or horrific pain, depending on how your partner treats your anal area. Yes, women do enjoy anal stimulation if it's done just right. It's hard not to enjoy it!nnI can't say that anal sex is something I do, or would want to do every time I had sex. When everything is in place, from mood to stimulation, to sanitation, I will not turn it down, but there are a few other factors involved too that turn me on or off of it. nnStimulation is key. For me to enjoy anal sex, I have to be so stimulated that my hundred pound self could go through a wall to get to what's going to satisfy me. Anything less than that will turn it into more a chore than a mutual pleasure, where every stroke makes me wonder if I am being screwed or gutted like a deer. We all know that there are different levels of horny, and we all respond to new things differently on those different levels.

I'm a pretty lucky guy, one of the few who actually enjoys their job. My name's Dougray, and I'm a twenty three year-old police constable, or cop if you like, serving my great country in the beautiful, remote Highlands of Scotland, usually on road patrol. It's an easy number, most of the time I just park up somewhere quiet with the speed radar on and maybe pull some poor soul over for speeding offences about once every two hours and give them a ticket. nnMainly, I'm sat in the car either reading a book or winning money by playing internet poker from my lap-top. That's if I'm not getting a free meal at a local café, having a pint of beer in the back room of a pub or visiting a female 'friend' who's husband or boyfriend may be at work or out with his friends. Yes, life really is that tough up here in the high country.nnThe only thing I don't like is working the overnight ten to six shift. You can't get a free beer after about twelve o'clock! Still, sometimes there are compensations, occasionally glorious ones. The following is an account of one such summer night.nnIt was about eleven o'clock. I had just set up the radar on a back road and was now busy drinking coffee from a flask and reading the latest Irvine Welsh novel, musing how well he seems to understand those Scottish male traits of casual racism, alcohol abuse and petty corruption, when I was rudely interrupted as the old red trip light came on. A large Range Rover slipped by, about twenty miles-per-hour faster than it should have. I slung the coffee out of the window, dropped the book and went after it; sirens blazing. Oh, how I love that sound.nnI chased it down quickly and as the car pulled over I parked in front of it. I called and checked on the registration plate - It was a rented vehicle – then walked across to it, hand on my Tazer gun; well, you never know what might kick-off these days, and I've never used it on anyone yet, which surely is a shame.nnThere were two figures in the front of the vehicle. The driver's window came down and an interior light came on. A worried female voice with a sort of Mid-American accent spoke.

This is a work of fiction, written for enjoyment and amusement; hopefully yours as well as mine. It originally formed part of what was to be a trilogy, recounting the same events from the point of view of each of the participants. Sadly, it didn't work, so I've taken Meg's part, tidied it up and present it here, hopefully for your enjoyment.nn* * * * *nnI met Mike at a party. Actually, he rescued me. The football jock I went with got too interested in the booze that was available and tried to get too fresh, too crudely, too soon. It was only the first time we went out together and I told him forcefully that it was the last, then slapped him as hard as I could.nn"Why, you cheap bitch." he'd started and lifted his hand. I think he meant to hit me, but I'll never know for sure because his arm was stopped in its downward flow by the interception of another.nn"No, Jimmy. You don't hit ladies."nn"Ladies!" Jimmy said, "This bitch is no lady!"nnThat was as much as he said, when his face went white and sweat appeared on his face. I looked curiously at my knight-errant. Tall, well-built without any excess, sandy hair, blue eyes. Quite tasty, actually. I knew his name, Mike Henderson, and that he was an engineering student, but that was all I knew. He seemed to have a hell of a grip, because Jimmy couldn't break it.