Firebird on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Over and Over Again

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Story entry in the 2011 Winter Fetish Stories Contest

Jeff didn’t know what was going on or where he was. His last memory was of meeting a gorgeous woman at a bar and letting her buy him a drink. Lydia was her name. She had red hair, stood six feet tall and her body was easily a 9. Her lips were bright pink, which matched her outfit; she wore a tight pink long-sleeve dress that seemed to be made out of spandex, a material that Jeff had a very strong fetish for. The last topic he remembered talking about was, “What was the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done?” She asked him to go first and he decided to ease her into his fetish for bondage AND encasement slowly by simply saying how he was tied to his bed, but he never mentioned the all black zentai catsuit from Winter Fetish that he was wearing at that time – nor the dominatrix that he had PAID to get this done to him. The strange thing is that he could have sworn that Lydia’s eyes lit up when he mentioned this. Of course Jeff’s imagination ran wild with that single glint in her eyes. Maybe she was totally into this?

Over and Over Again

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

This story was an entry into the 2011 Winter Fetish Story Contest

Testing 1-2-3

Tue, 06 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

This story was an entry into the 2010 Winter Fetish Story Contest

“Why aren’t those reports on my desk damn it!?” Yelled Darla.

This was the fifth time in one month that Brad, a short Caucasian analyst with decent looks and an average build, had forgotten to turn in his analysis summary. Working at a financial company that gave analyses of various corporations was always a bore to him, but the pay was great and for some unknown reason, he liked pissing off his boss, Ms. Darla Natrix. She wasn’t supermodel material, but she was definitely a 4.5 – on a scale of 1 to 5. She was taller than Brad by a couple of inches, at 5 foot 9, with fiery red hair and a sexy, almost gothic pale complexion. A tight black business jacket and short skirt outlined her perfect hips and she always wore sheer black stockings that accentuated her delicious legs, which rested on 4 inch heels that propped her up like stilts. The anger in her eyes was amplified by her dark black eyeliner and dark rose red lips that framed her now-showing teeth as she froze her face on her last word in anticipation of what was supposed to be an obvious apology.