Lesbian Pet Play Stories

Lesbian Pet Play Stories

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The evil men do these days surprises the devil. It happened on the 24th of December 2013. I went out with friends to a party. At about 9pm my girlfriend (now ex-girlfriend) called and said she is at my house. I told her I was with friends and I will be coming back to the house tomorrow morning. She said ok that she will stay inside and wait till then. I intended to stay at the party till dawn but I decided to leave due to a terrible headache and I was exhausted. I felt i needed to rest. I left at about 11pm. When I got to my house, I met a shocker. My girlfriend was completely n*aked and my dog was in-between her legs licking her pucci. I stood there in shock not knowing what to make of the ugly scene. My God! What am I seeing?! I shouted. It is not what you think, she said. I'm n*aked because I needed to take fresh air bla bla... Imagine! To cut the story short, I broke up with her and sold the dog. She has been calling and sending text messages begging since then. Though, I didn't tell anybody about it because I don't want to tarnish her image. She is a very nice person but deep inside my heart I can no longer accept her. I can't put my thing in that hole again. Never! but her words are really touching and disturbing cos she has sacrifice alot in this relationship. She loves me deeply that I know. but this act?
If you accept her back,then you accept your death back. If you want peace,forget her.
If you accept her back,then you accept your death back. If you want peace,forget her,or when did dog become a fan blowing air to her private part?
Run leave ur leg bros shes nt for u she belongs to them
gurls don suffer.....dis is d most ridiculous lie i'v eva seen...lie lie boi
3coins: gurls don suffer.....dis is d most ridiculous lie i'v eva seen...lie lie boi please be cautious with life,anything is possible.
3coins: gurls don suffer.....dis is d most ridiculous lie i'v eva seen...lie lie boi I have no reasons to lie. Ever since it happened, I have not told anybody I know about it because I still care about her image. She was a very nice girl. I'm saying it here because of anonymity.
braimahjak: please be cautious with life,anything is possible. Worwor: I have no reasons to lie. Ever since it happened, I have not told anybody I know about it because I still care about her image. She was a very nice girl. I'm saying it here because of anonymity. hmmmmmm...i'v heard!
#jumpsIntoWonderShallNeverEndRiver . . . . . . . . . . . . . prince Parix, where you at??
Too much of blue film..probably wants to practise what she watched
@omo see director we have talent in this nigeria o woray storey story,so gigantic!.
Everything is possible on planet earth so am not amazed. If na mi b d lucky bingo after exhaustn ma air bag aw jst bite d bitch 4 her clitoris n az 4 u ma guy if u giv her 2nd chance mehn ur disease go supas HIV n AIDS
Geopascal: Everything is possible on planet earth so am not amazed. If na mi b d lucky bingo after exhaustn ma air bag aw jst bite d bitch 4 her clitoris n az 4 u ma guy if u giv her 2nd chance mehn ur disease go supas HIV n AIDS do u knw if d girl is ur future wife? Abi OP show u her pic? Talk small small.
the dog did what you can't do...why the angry protest?
Chei! Omo see upgraded lie! Na dis kain one dem dey call 'true lies'. Bro u get d video, or bone am
experimentist: Chei! Omo see upgraded lie! Na dis kain one dem dey call 'true lies'. Bro u get d video, or bone am kuked up stories
My ex then used to pour milk on her punnani and breast for her nephew to suck. Girls do crazy things when they are f.cking horrny.
Worwor ! Worwor ! I sabi ya face o ! No take us play !
dagift333: Run leave ur leg bros shes nt for u she belongs to them dogs ?
Adonbilivit........................so dis shii hapuns in naija
why am I doubting this story like thomas
seedord247: My ex then used to pour milk on her punnani and breast for her nephew to suck. Girls do crazy things when they are f.cking horrny. hmmm! Another fabz
This is called bestiality. If true,omo run from the girl. that's height of human degradation.
Those of you doubting the story, are you saying there's no bestiality in Nigeria? The world has gone dark and anything is now possible. Too many perverts and evil fetish here and there. @op, if indeed it truly happened, flee, that girl is not meant for you. She needs serious deliverance.
Picture(s) 0r it didnt happened. G00d tinz comes 2 th0es who waits.
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Original Fiction
by Scott ©2001
RamAirIIII@aol.com

Celia was a lab
rat. At least that’s what she and the other scientists and technicians
called themselves; the Biotronics Corporation lab rats. The name probably
came from the anonymity and de-humanization that were byproducts of their
uniforms and the enormous size of the Biotronics facility.

Hundreds and
hundreds of Biotronics staff milled around like ants; or perhaps more like
rats in a maze. Each looked much like the others, dressed in his or her
unisex white lab coat and scrubs. It was almost difficult to tell the women
from the men. The sterile environment was made even more Orwellian by the
countless stainless steel tables brimming with the equipment and wires and
tubes of science.

Ironically, in
this most antiseptic and featureless environment, pieces and parts of humans
themselves were being created. Different departments developed and refined
artificial bits of bone, cartilage, tendon, and ligament. A battalion of
scientists was trying to reproduce nearly all the internal organs, with
varying degrees of success.

Celia’s
department was that of the largest human organ, the epidermis. Her team’s
goal was a strong, natural appearing, synthetic substitute for skin. The
application was especially targeted towards burn and large-abrasion victims,
or those with degenerative skin diseases.

Celia’s private
life was, to put it gently, unorthodox. She was the only thirty-six year old
that she knew who wasn’t a mommy; Nor was she anyone’s wife, lover, or even
girlfriend. It was not that she was unattractive; her height was
proportionate to her weight, her skin was clear, and her face could be
considered pleasing. It wasn’t that she was particularly anti-social,
psychotic or a deliberate loner. The reason for her extended “singleness”
was her unique (for a woman) sexuality. Celia was an utter pervert; so much
so that she believed in her heart that there was no real chance of finding a
true soul mate.

The clamps
were ingenious in that they tormented the wearer, yet allowed
circulation into the nipples. This feature permitted them to be locked
onto the wearer/victim indefinitely. Celia had previously enjoyed
playing a little game of locking the clamps in place on her tortured
nipples, and then mailing the keys to herself. She would be trapped in
the hellish little devices until the mail delivered the keys back to
her, a day or two later. This little game continued until once when they
didn’t turn up when they were supposed to. The clamps hurt terribly, and
there was no escaping them. They worked in conjunction with piercings in
Celia’s nipples, holding the nipple stretched and clamped inside a
conical shield. She could not touch any part of her nipples once the
devices were in place. Removing them would have involved painful,
costly, disfiguring surgery. Six agonizing, awful weeks went by before
the keys showed up. The envelope was marked “insufficient postage.”
Celia’s
evenings were always spent quickly changing into her fetish clothing,
locking her bondage keys into their timed-release box, scarfing a little
dinner, doing her household chores, and then going straight to the
computer. There, she would cruise the Web looking for stories, pictures,
new devices and fetish items, and stopping off briefly at the occasional
chat room. As she browsed the world’s perversions, she would masturbate,
bringing herself off dozens of times a night. She met lots of people
online, but refused to let anyone get really close to her. She had
things just the way she wanted them.

Morning would
bring release from her self-imposed punishments; the key box would buzz and
unlock, allowing her to change back into her daytime persona. Celia had
another little game she played, one that helped carry her through the boring
hours of work and public responsibilities like grocery shopping, auto
repairs and so on. Under her boring external clothes, she would always wear
some sort of fetish apparel, often in conjunction with some discipline
device(s). The rule was, it had to lock onto her. The keys would stay at
home, and she would be helpless to stop the torment going on just under her
lab coat or street clothes.

Corsets had long
been a favorite item, and they were a daily ritual for Celia. Through years
of tight lacing, usually both day and night, she had achieved a remarkable
eighteen-inch waist. It wasn’t the incredible 15 inches that

“Spook” displayed on her web page, but
Celia was still quite proud of it. On a typical day, Celia would lace into a
leather long-line corset, pulling it tight to the point of dizziness. Her
more extreme corsets started with a low collar (locking) and carried down
over the shoulders and all the way to two inches past her hip bones. There
were two, small round openings in the front of the heavily boned leather
sheath that Celia would have to pull and massage her D-cup breasts through.
The effect was a pair of perfectly round, bright red orbs, protesting at the
cruel root-cinching. Getting dressed for work always involved bringing
herself to at least one climax!

Instead of
conventional panties, Celia would lock her privates away behind a steel
chastity belt; often with the addition of a painfully large intruder that
would stretch her abused anus wide around its girth through the day. The
belt’s wide, impenetrable front panel effectively stopped her practice of
sneaking away to the ladies room to masturbate, a habit she was trying to
break, due to suffering job performance. Another daily torment was her
practice of wearing a small chain that ran from one nipple ring to the
other, routed up behind her neck. This chain was deliberately too short for
comfort, and the result was the weight of her round breasts was supported by
her nipple rings. She called it her “chain bra.” She would complete her
undergarments by adding a pair of shiny, white, “extra control” stockings
which were held up by her corset’s eight garters. She loved the way they
felt, squeezing her from thighs to toes like her latex ones did. The medical
scrubs and lab coat covered everything. She wore (ugh) white, low-heeled
medical shoes, which were comfortable and practical, but she hated them. She
counted the moments until she could be back “en pointe” in her ballet-toed
stiletto punishment pumps. Flats were for men!

While she was at
work, she had to put her sex on a back burner, where it would quietly sizzle
through the day. It had taken years of practice to learn to focus
exclusively on her work, ignoring all the stimulus that her body was
frantically sending. The certainty of the unyielding chastity belt helped;
since she had begun wearing it every day, her work productivity had
increased threefold.

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