Michael Alexander

 Michael Alexander Stories is pleased to announce the coming release of Breanne Erickson’s latest novel: Sexcapades of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut, Volume 2. The second in her newest series, chronicling her seemingly never-ending adventures of bondage, discipline, sadism, and masochism. Available for pre-order, Sexcapades of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 2 will be out for release on

 Paul Mason was sitting at his desk, two separate stacks of papers in front of him. One pile, dwindling, was ungraded history tests, while on the opposite side were a stack of red marked documents, each bearing a grade. In total, he wasn’t dissatisfied with his students’ performance. The general scores were in the upper eighties and low nineties, with some of his more stellar students hitting

The principal walked into the library and for a moment, paused to appreciate the sounds of studious silence. The normal giggles of little girls gossiping, or the young men bragging to each other between the droning lectures of the faculty didn’t seem to permeate the hallowed stacks of tomes. His eyes paused on a library aide who was dutifully shelving books, taking them off the return cart. Her

 Breanne has done it again! After weathering the storm of the pandemic, (if you can call what she did "weathering",) Breanne steps back out into the open with a masochistic and arousing itch to scratch! Tested to her limits, Bre’s default status of wet, quivering, and wanton leads to a bevy of sexual escapades, each different and exciting in their own way. Available for purchase in e-book format

 On March 25th, 2022 the next installment of Breanne Erickson’s amazing sexual narrative hits the shelves. Chronicling Bre’s descent into sexual oblivion during the pandemic, "Quarantined Roses: A Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Story" swirls with emotion, sexual mayhem, and dark revelations." If you kept up with Bre’s adventures during the pandemic on this blog, you’re in for a treat. Not only are

Michael Alexander Stories is looking to add to the already huge collection of work in our archives. If you are a BDSM blogger, writer, photographer, artist or content creator, and wish us to feature your work here on Michael Alexander Stories, we’d love to hear from you. With more than four thousand hits per month, Michael Alexander Stories is a fantastic way to broaden your audience. If you are

It was a rainy Saturday morning and I shifted uncomfortably as I drove my white Jeep Wrangler through the upscale residential neighborhood. Gorgeous oaks and pines stood in clusters, flower beds lined with white limestone, and expansive lawns were parceled out in neat rows. Each lot was at least an acre and I bit my lip as I calculated how many years of my current salary it would take me to make

The secretary eyed the young woman who was sitting quietly in one of the waiting room chairs. There was something not quite right about the girl and the secretary couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It wasn’t her outfit. The secretary was quite used to seeing a variety of costumes from the various candidates and the ridiculously short black miniskirt wasn’t exactly odd. Neither was the scarlet

 “Careful,” warned Nick. “That almost earned you another one.” The smirk on his face was driving me nuts, almost as much as the stinging sensation still crawling across my ass. I almost stomped my foot, but the footwear I had on wasn’t exactly the kind of shoe you wanted to put through that kind of challenge. I’d twist an ankle and fall on my scantily, fresh caned ass. I took a deep breath,

 I am not generally predisposed to panic, but I had to admit… the wait was killing me. I was sitting at my desk, the glass wall of the atrium separating Kari’s office suite from the building’s main lobby, and all things considered, I was pretty damn sure that my fight or flight reflex was close to being triggered. My eyes flitted nervously between the screen of my laptop computer and the broad

The well was dark, except for a small pool of light that seemed to filter down in streams from above, oozing through the myrk. Droplets of water, dripping into pools of water, echoed loudly in the circular chamber, the odd patterns maddening loud. There was a smell too, of rotten molds and shriveled fungus that had grown and died, itself starving in the hot, damp, putrescent environment. And

“Does your pussy hurt?” Julie asked.I blinked in surprise and pulled the phone away from my ear to look at it in disbelief. Not a “hello,” or a “good morning.” I brought the phone back up to my mouth, eyes narrowing. “No,” I spluttered in outrage. “What the hell kind of question is that?” I demanded as my foot pressed down a little harder on the accelerator.“An important one,” Julie replied

         Around me, the leather straps creaked as my body tried to tear itself free of the restraint chair. "Julie!" I cried out. "Please! I can’t take it!"  This wasn’t said lightly, nor is it something I say often, and the Cheshire cat grin that danced across my mistress’ face looked almost feral. It would have been easy to picture her with horns, a long tail, crimson bat wings, and glowing,

 “Breanne!” I heard her call from the back of the office. “Breanne? Can you please come here?”I shifted in my chair, feeling the wetness as the sensation of slick leather gliding across my bottom caused a noticeable distraction from the commanding summons. Twisting, I glanced down the hallway behind me, but I could see that Kari wasn’t at her desk. She’d been unusually needy the last few days and

Just ten years since Breanne first began writing her "Tales," the book that started it all has been bound, spanked silly, and whipped into shape. Breanne herself as gone through the various tales, adding detail, cleaning up confusions, emphasizing the important things, and bringing some of her current writing capability to posts that were not originally intended to be the amazing tales that

For a moment, I got turned around, lost in a maze of suburbia. All of the houses were built in the 1970’s, each a single-story brick structure surrounded with a privacy fence. The garages were all located to the rear, and each block was bisected by an alley. Despite the bright, spring sunlight, I looked around, totally unable to locate the back of Julie’s residence. It seemed a little weird

I sat at my desk, trying to focus on my writing, and doing a relatively poor job of it. Outside, rain was pouring down, turning the parking lot of my apartment complex into something resembling a nearby bayou rather than a broad expanse of concrete. I had the lights off, a weak and feeble attempt on my part in trying to reduce the number of additional distractions, allowing the weak and gray

One of my favorite movies of all time has to be Groundhog Day. Not only is Bill Murray’s comedic genius on genuine display through the entire adventure, but his gradual learning about the niceties of civilized behavior (otherwise known as "how not to be a dick",) are not only rewarding, but good lessons in and of themselves. In the end Murray’s character has become a better person. Recently

I opened the package, looked down through the extraneous packing material and literally swore out loud. I might have accidentally, on-purpose, used a swear word. Twenty seconds later, I was tapping my foot angrily as Julie’s phone rang. She picked up, and I heard her normal, smug and pretentious greeting. “Hello, princess. What’s up?” I gritted my teeth, eyes narrowed as I once again looked

I set the bar stool in front of the bedroom window and looked out. It was a dreary day, with rain clouds threatening on the horizon, casting a bleak and grayish light across the half-empty parking lot. Inside the room, the lights were out and the shadows were deep giving off a sort of sad vibe. It was just after lunch and I leaned on the wooden back of the bar stool, wondering if it were going

<!–[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]–><!–[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]–><!–[if gte mso 9]>

The phone rang. My entire body seemed like it was on fire and I my hand shook as I slid my thumb across the screen. It was everything I could do not to scream, or groan, or make other noise, since I was in my bedroom and wasn’t the only person in the house. My voice came across in a wavering, desperate tone. “Now?” I begged. Julie laughed. “Why? Do you need it now?” I whimpered. “Oh,

With "Final Meetings" Breanne’s "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" series came to a close. Now, the final book detailing the adventures of Breanne, Kari, Julie, Mike the Hardware Guy, and the other subs and dommes of the Society of the Golden Rose comes to light. Set for RELEASE on April 10th, this book should help keep people around the world occupied during the COVID-19 quarantine.

For the last ten years Breanne Erickson has been delighting readers with her sexual escapades. Now, on January 9th, the tenth anniversary of her very first post at Michael Alexander’s BDSM Blog, she released her 19th collection of "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut". Chock full of amazing "assignments" and the give and take insanity of living, working, and loving two very different

Part Six – Finale I sit with Julie, apart from the group. Behind us there are whimpers of desire, cries of pain, and groans of satisfaction. Every submissive but me is getting fucked in some way. Alissa is mounted on the iBench, having replaced me while Mistress Sara uses the studded cane. Tiffany is riding the wooden pony, still paying for the unauthorized orgasm given to me. Morgan is lying