James watched. He could not help himself. He wanted to look away but what he saw pulled at him. Before him lay a woman. Spread eagled on a bed. Bound by ropes and chain. Blind folded and hardly moving. Wires running to her vagina and breast. He was not ignorant. Just that you hear about these things and sort of dismiss them. Not in my backyard sort of thing. A retired Navy man with over twenty-two years in the service. He thought had seen it all. ...
Gay, Transgender, Non-consensual, Oral, Anal = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Tracey gets the job of his dreams. Sometimes it takes a little push to help someone become what they always wished they had the guts to be. In this Gay fantasy, Tracey gets that push. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = * * * * * * * * * * * * ...
Can someone avoid prophecy given by a girl kissed by the Fey? I think the wee folk are playing with me, but this is the story the Pixies gave me for this year’s Halloween specials. It rolls some Celtic traditions in with some other traditions from the old times to present a tale of a witch who isn’t really a witch… except that she is. * * * * * * * * * * * * ...
Can someone avoid prophecy given by a girl kissed by the Fey? I think the wee folk are playing with me, but this is the story the Pixies gave me for this year’s Halloween specials. It rolls some Celtic traditions in with some other traditions from the old times to present a tale of a witch who isn’t really a witch… except that she is. * * * * * * * * * * * * ...
With everything already in place, Eric sat on the couch hoping that tonight was going to go as smoothly as he imagined it would more than he was paying attention to the television in front of him. It had taken just under three months to tease, test, and prepare Nina so that nothing would go wrong with his plans. For so long, he’d been looking for a new sex slave and she was going to be perfect. ...
It was only my third night in this sleepy little town and I had already run bored with little new to do. I had only been to our Kansas office twice in the last five years for cursory check-ins but now this branch was falling apart and they sent me in for an extended stay to clean up the mess. The only place to stay within in a reasonable distance to the office was a second rate motel just outside of town. I had stayed here on my previous trips and it was certainly nothing extraordinary to write home about. Just a place to lay my head down each night with the sound of traffic buzzing on a busy street. It had been another day of pulling people into my temporary office for fact finding interviews and people assesment. The work was emotionally draining and I needed some deeper intellectual stimulation not related to my work. Most of the people in the office disliked me on account I was there to course correct their actions so I needed another outlet. Back in the room I flipped on the television and surfed the channels looking for anything of substance. Nothing captured my attention so I flipped it back off. There was a tavern a couple of blocks down I had seen, “Lucy’s” I think, so I decided to venture out in search of real people to engage with. It was a Wednesday night so as expected I was not overwhelmed when I opened the red door with “Lucy’s” in angled script painted in black on its face. Two men were playing pool and drinking beers under a single hanging bulb in the back of the room, a couple was sharing a plate of cheese deprived nachos in the front corner, an empty table with half a glass of white wine, an open book flipped upside down and a single pulled out chair was in the middle of the room and lastly a bearded biker with his head resting on his forearm and four empty shot glasses perfectly lined up in front of him was seated at the far end of the bar. A still full shot clutched in his right fist as he strummed his fingers on its side as if he were fighting the demons telling him just one more wouldn’t hurt. No one looked up as I entered. I pulled out the bar stool furthest from the biker drowning his sorrows and sat down. Not a likely candidate for intelligent conversation I thought. The bartender, a female with short dark hair medium build wearing a Lucy’s logo T-shirt, just like the front door, tied in a knot at her waist above the waistband of her jeans approached and said “Welcome to Lucy’s, stranger. What will you have?” Just as I opened my mouth to answer the man at the opposite end of the bar threw his head back and launched his waiting shot down his throat as he yelled “Arrrrgh”. He slammed his shot glass down on the bar in perfect succession with the other four and returned his head to his forearm and his now empty waiting fist to its former position as if the glass were still there. “Maybe you should take care of him first. Looks like he needs another and I don’t want to get in his way. " The bartender scoffed and told me that “Butch” would be fine as long as she had another shot in his waiting fist by the half hour mark as she pointed to the clock behind her head. Six was usually his limit on exact fifteen minute intervals. “OCD” she whispered with the back of her hand up to her cheek as if to sheild her whisper from his ears. “Bourbon on the rocks then. And I’ll try to pace myself so you don’t wind up with bookends at your bar keeping your remaining stools empty the rest of the night.” “Go wild sweetie! Don’t hold back on my account” she said as she added two bar straws to my drink and handed it to me. I took the drink and thanked her. I had noticed movement in the bar in my peripheral vision and rotated my stool around to again survey the place without much hope of finding anyone to talk to based on my initial surveyance. I brought my forward face to the television hanging in the corner switched to ESPN as to not be so obvious. A woman had returned from presumably the bathroom to the waiting wine glass and book at the empty table. Early forties, died red short bobbed hair with a highlighted streak, thin build and a nice smile. This I saw when she looked in my direction and saw that I was looking in hers as she sat. After I smiled back I casually brought my eyes back to todays sports highlights and duefully nursed my bourbon. The woman picked up her book and continued reading as she drank the rest of her wine between pages occasionally glancing towards the bar. What type of a woman goes to a bar to read I asked myself. “One that is looking to meet someone” I rhetorically answered. So I decided she was my best shot at any sort of intelligent conversation in this place. No one else had come in. I finished my drink and swiveled back to face the bar. The bartender had been directly behind me so I said “Maybe I will go wild. Another bourbon and a glass of Chardonnay please.” I got a surprised look from her but no response outside of a smirk and a nod. She served the drinks and I stood to approach the lone woman with drinks in hand. “Hi, mind if I join you with a hospitality offering?” “Oh! …please” she said. I sat, introduced myself and struck up conversation. A few minutes in and “Arrrrrrgh” from the bar and the sound of the shot glass slamming into the worn mahogany of the bar. I looked at my watch. Half past on the nose I noticed. The conversation was great and we were both laughing a lot. There was definitely chemistry happening between us. I had lost track of time but the man at the bar had not moved an inch and three others were now seated where I had been at the farther end, the nacho couple were now throwing darts and three new men were playing pool in the back and another three were seated at a table nearby. The bartender came over and stood next to Amy. “Hi Amy. Sounds like you guys are having a lot of fun over here? I’m on a break and was curious if I could get in on Mr. Bourbon’s hilarity for a bit? Does Mr. Bourbon have a name?” “Oh, hi Lucy.” said Amy as she looked up at her. “Sure, have a seat. Mr. Bourbon’s name is Christopher. Chris is in from Atlanta on a business trip and is staying at “The Shady Lady” for a month. He is going stir crazy and needs some intellectual release before he goes mad. He is very funny.” “Lucy, nice to officially meet you” I said as I stood and extended my hand for a shake. “I had no idea you were the name sake on the building?” ...
Bruce was bored. It was another one of those cheer up Janet visits that his wife insisted on making. Not that he minded seeing his buxom brunette sister-in-law. But the conversation always seemed to revolve around cooking. Since her husband had disappeared and been declared dead, Janet had done a complete make over. She looked younger, her skin silken smooth and her breasts much fuller. Bruce suspected some insurance money spent on plastics but was too discrete to ask. ...
It was a warm night and Joe was in the mood to club. He’d been to several of the other clubs on the strip but grew tired of the generic feel of them, he noticed the glow of a neon sign down the alley he was standing next too. Curious he walked down the alley to the sign, it said The Spiders Den. Nude dancers and lap dancing, unique things and fetishes. This peaked his interest, he walked into the door and looked around. ...
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!” You put away your phone. Fine by you. Your phone is almost dead, anyway. Those ride-sharing apps always take forever to load. You feel just as comfortable out here as you did inside the club. In fact, it might be a bit more comfortable - inside it was hot and muggy. The cool spring air - polluted as it may be by concrete, chemicals, and the endless fumes of automobiles - is refreshing on your face. An evening breeze rustles trees along the road. A few of the other patrons go back inside. ...
(story continues from An Ensign’s Fantasies 15)_ Part 16 The following narrative is that of a retired Starfleet commander. Though many of the narrated details did actually occur all names are fictitious and locales and dates are changed to prevent individual identification. Janet’s freedom from her collar was a major life change. She was no longer forced to prostitute herself but found herself at a turning point in her life. Additionally she had to recognize her feelings toward Joe. ...
Measuring time by means of a watch was something that seemed like a distant memory in the few moments that Carla Largo was able to contemplate the swirling mass of stress and obligation that had taken the place of what had once been her life. Instead she had come to orient herself by the colour of the pills that she was taking at any given time during the day as they seemed to be the only thing that remained fixed and constant as she lurched from one place to another under the weight of her responsibilities. ...