collection of stories you shouldn't read at work
>Author’s Note: To read part one, click my name or search this subreddit archive for *Pierced and Chained Chastity*.
At my husband’s boss’ Fourth of July party, I fell for his co-worker Nicolai. But my Dom husband, knowing how hard it is for me to resist an irresistible man, had my labia pierced weeks ago with two golden hoops. For chastity, he placed a little gold lock on the hoops to which he holds the key. My chastity lock had worked so far on this petite brunette vixen…but not tonight.
Myself, 3 female friends were at one of my buddy’s house. I just became a sophmore in college, my friend was 30, one girl just graduated highschool and the other two were freshmen at a local community college. The two freshmen were quite playfully bi, and they played together behind closed doors sometimes, but they never did for attention like so many girls are now famous for doing publicly and they didnt seriously date women either. The third girl was friends with us guys and didn’t like those other two all that much, they kinda tolerated each other.
Us and another guy who wasn’t there that night had become great friends that year, we helped each other with school work, car troubles, even financial problems sometimes. And 3 night a week we were at my buddy’s townhouse, watching movies, but more often – playing drinking games and playing music.
This particular evening we were playing some music
Glinda looked up at the hulking chieftain standing before her. Even if she hadn’t been thrown to the floor by the foot solider when she was brought into his tent he’d have been imposing, but from the fur rug she now laid upon he looked more like an ancient tree towering into the sky than a mortal being. Growing up in the borderlands humans all heard stories of the Orks living beyond the river, and the raiding parties they’d send into the human territory, but she’d never seen one before they arrived at her village that morning. The grunts who’d torn through the village were large themselves, easily a head taller than any man she knew, but this chieftain whom she’d been brought to was even larger than that. In a community which valued power and aggression more than civility, like her human, more civilized brethren, it was no wonder how this man had rose to a rank like his.
I trudged my way home from work with the warm Indian Summer air on my neck. With the midwest summers it was always better to wake up to sun and walk home in it, compared to the winters where I hardly saw daylight. As I approached the door through our multicoloured, but subdued shitty architecture, hallway I could begin to smell dinner. You imagine mice have a similar sensation as they get closer to the cheese and inevitable reward. My reward, a yapping dog that unfortunately heard the buckle of my satchel I so desperately try and hide when marching towards the wooden door.
In between the dog’s barks I shout a “hey something smells good!” You both are dancing around a bit as you shuffle between one side of the counter to the other to cheesy 2000’s dance hits. “You two would make more progress if you put down the glass of wine” I say slyly and with a smile. I unwrap the satchel from my neck, reach down to pet the now subdued protection mutt, and sit down on a chair at the bar. She reaches into the fridge and hands me a beer. “Did I mention you are a mind reader?” I mutter to her as she hands me my favourite brew and returns to your momentarily paused dance party.
Originally posted on /r/sexover30 — someone suggested that it would fit nicely in this sub too =) I hope ya’ll enjoy:
So, as all of the regulars from /r/sexover30 will know, I left my ex of 15 years in April of 2015. For those that don’t know: Dead bedroom. Little empathy from the ex and very little effort on his part to please me in or out of bed. Long story. Suffice to say, the last time we had sex was for my birthday in the beginning of Sept of 2014.
My 2 year anniversary for not having had sex (with anyone but myself) was looming. I’ll be honest and say it was freaking depressing as hell. I honestly didn’t think I could catch a person’s attention. I didn’t think anyone would want me. The ex didn’t – and he wasn’t exactly a paragon of a man. He made sure, in a ton of subtle ways (and not so subtle), that I knew exactly where I stood with him. Far, far less than his ideal.
She awoke slowly. She felt rejuvenated – invigorated from the pleasure of the night before. She rolled onto her side, facing Tony. He was still asleep – the sheets covering only his waist, showing his fit but trim body and soft muscles. Jess looked at his chest, remembering the night before: chatting at the bar where the music was too loud, making out in the cab where the music was too soft, and the unabated night of passion that had transpired just a few hours ago. Imagining it made her chest flutter and feel a gentle warmth starting between her legs. It only took a second to decide that neither of them would make it to work on time that day – she’d take the reprimand if it meant being able to take his hard cock between her legs again.
“Write me stories,” she said.
“Write me stories, and I’ll do to you whatever wicked things you do to your heroes.”
So, I wrote.
Tale upon tale flowed from my fingertips to hers. We were a team: I brought her raw materials, she crafted them into encounters. Her standards were simple and constant: Challenge myself. Balance indulgence with torment.
I filled the stories to bursting with my fantasies, page after page iterating over them from every angle. The possibilities lit up my mind constantly. She took plenty of liberties: Sometimes she would do exactly what I wrote, as if following instructions. Other times, I would not understand the connection to my prompt at all, until she would whisper the epiphany to me as her hands kneaded my most sensitive parts.
The result was that I never knew what to expect, never knew what nuanced wickedness my words might have unlocked, could never add in a detail without weighing the probability that I might be designing my own doom. She made it clear I would regret it if I went easy on myself. When I wrote weak stories, didn’t pour myself into them, didn’t give her enough to work with, there would be a consequence every time. Bruises, denial, scars. She would find a way to make me feel paradoxically judged and liberated.
Author’s note: This is the final part of the series! I strongly recommend that you begin with part 1 — a complete index can be found in the comments below.
Since you’ve come with us this far, I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have in the comments. I’m eager for your feedback.
—
Hannah watched in awe and stumbled to the ground as pinpricks of light detonated above the island from several different directions. The points flashed and expanded into blinding brilliance, followed soon after by a dull rumble that permeated the island and lasted for several seconds. The usual cacophony of the forest subsided until the light began to fade, and Hannah picked herself up off the ground.
“They’re nuking us,” Heron said. Her husband. One shock at a time. His semen still dripped from between her legs, and when she focused she could feel their child growing inside her womb.
Hannah wasn’t scared. “As long as the perimeter is up, I think we’re invulnerable,” she said.
Heron’s eyes scanned up and down her body, fixing on her tummy — on their child? “Then let’s keep it up. Who cares if some part of Shaper is in here? Better than being vaporized.”
I trudged my way home from work with the warm Indian Summer air on my neck. With the midwest summers it was always better to wake up to sun and walk home in it, compared to the winters where I hardly saw daylight. As I approached the door through our multicoloured, but subdued shitty architecture, hallway I could begin to smell dinner. You imagine mice have a similar sensation as they get closer to the cheese and inevitable reward. My reward, a yapping dog that unfortunately heard the buckle of my satchel I so desperately try and hide when marching towards the wooden door.
In between the dog’s barks I shout a “hey something smells good!” You both are dancing around a bit as you shuffle between one side of the counter to the other to cheesy 2000’s dance hits. “You two would make more progress if you put down the glass of wine” I say slyly and with a smile. I unwrap the satchel from my neck, reach down to pet the now subdued protection mutt, and sit down on a chair at the bar. She reaches into the fridge and hands me a beer. “Did I mention you are a mind reader?” I mutter to her as she hands me my favourite brew and returns to your momentarily paused dance party.
#~Chapter Eight~
##A curious errand
I must have drifted off to sleep after the orgasms, because when I look over at the clock on the dresser. It’s 1 a.m. I’m exhausted. I’m dazed, and for a minute, I don’t remember where I am. But I feel warmth next to me, and look over and see Amanda to my right, and roll over and see Tammy to my left. I look down, and don’t feel so wet any more—they must have moved the towel after I passed out. I didn’t plan on staying the night, but in the state I’m in, I’m too tired now to consider otherwise. I think through my plans for tomorrow, realize that I really have nothing that can’t be put off. I chuckle at my poor prognostication prior to my visit that I wouldn’t need a change of clothes, and drift off to sleep again.