This was no ordinary job interview, she knew. It was the one which could turn her life around. She loved her current position and though she knew she was valued, she felt bored and frustrated by the lack of challenge and imagination the job offered. It was meeting her prospective employer at a conference that she thought she had found the ultimate post. The openly flirtatious conversation at the bar along with the offer of a ‘good position with me’ (Ms Allis took the strange phrase as part of her companion’s Scandinavian to English translation), had Ms Allis agreeing to a ‘mutual interview’ the next week. The precise instructions as to her expected dress code for the interview only served to heighten expectations and made her wish for the next week.

I paced up and down waiting for him to arrive. It has been months since I last saw him and the last time we had spoken I had really annoyed him and he told me he wouldn’t see me any more.

I wash my body under the warm water, gently massaging the shower gel into my stomach and breasts and nipples, raising my face to the shower head and enjoying the feeling of the water washing me clean. I'm preparing my body for you, shaving my pussy and washing between my legs where I know your cock will be in an hour.

I stood dressed in my heavily boned and tightly laced vintage corset, very sheer seamed stockings and perched on my five-inch stiletto heeled shoes. I looked down at him kneeling at my feet. He was naked with his arse resting on his calves, his knees wide apart and his hands resting palms up on his thighs, the submission position. His head was lowered and he was looking at my gorgeous feet as he remained perfectly still except for the bobbing up and down of his erect and leaking cock.

I am wearing a proper corset, boned and laced, which gives me a wonderful hourglass shape. The bodice of the corset is unusual – it holds my breasts up, presents them, but leaves them bare so that they are visible and accessible. I’m also wearing a full skirt, made of layer upon layer of net. The skirt is slit down the front, but the layers of net cover my cunt from view.

Charlotte was very excited about taking over the handling of the family business and she was sure that she could turn it round and make it profitable again. ‘Wetland Potteries’, a ceramics company, had been founded fifty years ago by Charlotte's father and he had turned it into a major player. Unfortunately a stubborn man, Charlotte's father had refused to go along with the changes and the company had gradually lost market share until there was now the possibility of them being taken over by a rival. Charlotte was trying to arrange new finance and she had an appointment that afternoon with John Clooney, an renowned entrepreneur who had unlimited funds and had indicated that he was willing to invest. If so they could retain their independence. The big problem was that time was short and she had to get funds by the end of the week. Moreover, Mr. Clooney had a difficult reputation.

The morning arrived, sun shining and blue skies. A Friday off work this was the day I’d been waiting for as long as I could remember. Today I was going out dressed as a woman, my partner and I had been together for 5 years, since the sixth form and I had confessed my passion for dressing up in my sister's clothes almost within the first month of our relationship. Instead of laughing or ridiculing me she was very interested in my wants and needs.

They had chatted on the internet, but never met. At 23, Donna had several lovers her age, but she knew she was missing out exploring her fantasies of making love to a mature couple. They had a couple of drinks together where they met and all three knew this was what they had expected.

We had arranged to meet at the Zetter Hotel in Clerkenwell. It was boutique style, not too big and had a well reviewed Italian restaurant on the ground floor. We both loved Italian food. It wasn’t cheap, about £200 for the room and £120 ish for dinner. It was to be our first night together. As using credit cards was out of the question I had salted away the money for the room over a period of a few weeks and Carolyn had withdrawn £150 from her personal bank account and had offered to pay for the meal.

I felt her before I saw her. You know that sensation that you’re being looked at? The prickle at the back of your neck that makes you feel uncomfortable for a reason you can’t quite place, until you make eye contact and see it wasn’t your imagination. When I realised what was happening, I smiled at her in a ‘do I know you?’ way. I didn’t recognise her – she was tall, slim and dressed in a slinky black frock that emphasised her hourglass figure. I was certain I’d have remembered her. I felt a rush of blood to my cock as she shifted her weight from one stiletto-clad foot to the other and I noticed her dress was slashed to the thigh on both sides, revealing a hint of stocking. She didn’t smile back, making me worry that she hadn’t been looking at me at all, and it was my own lust leading my imagination.

I woke on Friday; sleep slowly dissipating from me as my slumber ebbed away with the spring sunshine breaking in through the gap in the curtains. At once I thought ‘shit I’ve overslept’ as John wasn’t there. His side of the bed an outline imprint of his body, the white sheets bare and wrinkled from his presence. But there on the pillow lay a crisp white piece of paper.

His other hand was still painfully gripping, punishing her, even as his free hand drifted almost lazily over her body. “Such a young, beautiful girl you are, Emma. You do not want to condemn yourself to hellfire for a fleeting moment of pleasure, do you?”

I've had an awful day at work, and I can't wait to get home to you. As I close the door behind me, I sigh with relief at being home. Before I can think, I feel strong arms come around me from behind, pulling me against a hard body. My heart beat quickens, and a hand comes over my mouth before I can cry out.

Sandra’s soft brown eyes looked at John. The urgent greed he saw there unnerved him now as it did every other evening. Her pert little lips were parted, her slim body was facing him, her face was tilted down and her straight, shoulder length hair swung forward a little. No words were spoken but her plea was loud and clear. Come upstairs with me now. Come upstairs and give me what I need. Now. Right now.

Kinkfest3 promises to be bigger and bouncier than ever before. There will be plenty of opportunity to try out a variety of new fetish and bondage themed accessories, clothes and equipment. Plenty of stalls will be selling a wide range of items including outfits, toys and artwork from retailers such as Fairy Gothmother and Leather & Lace.

I had been fascinated by the sub-dom scene for a long time, but didn't do anything, as everyone seemed to be so experienced. I was frightened that I would either cry off, or not come up to expectations. Maybe I wasn't really submissive at all. I certainly wasn't with my husband. Eventually, I saw an advert headed "THE HEADMASTER". As usual I read it, without any real intention of replying, but there was a link to his website, so I clicked on it.

Reading his CV once more: “And you say here you like modern fiction, er, foreign travel, indoor pursuits, Italian food and jazz.” She was searching for a conclusion. “Just what are indoor pursuits?” she asked, disinterestedly.

“I like to tie up women and spank them,” he said.

“Great arse!” I don’t know what made me say it, but when she walked past me in the bar, her pert cheeks hypnotised me. I’m not the sort of guy who usually accosts women in bars, with cheesy chat up lines. But I’d had a few drinks and it really was an impeccable specimen: firm, round, each cheek clearly defined in her tight skirt, making it all too easy to picture the pleasures that lay beneath and between.

His flat mate was going to be out almost all day and it was very rare for us to find some real private time nowadays. I caught the bus with excitement and anticipation welling up inside of me. As he opened the front door for me I smiled fiendishly and stepped over the threshold. He poured me a drink of water with ice before guiding me up the stairs, with one hand on my buttock, toward his bedroom.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, blindfolded. Shirt first, I undress you, button by button, kissing you between each one. Trousers next, stroking and licking your stomach before I slide them off. Then boxers, teasing your cock through the fabric first. All the while not a sound from either of us.