collection of stories you shouldn't read at work
So new here have been wanting to do this for a while. Started working on a new series and wanted some feed back from you guys. So here is the teaser to the first of my “Sally” series. Hope you enjoy.
Sally adjusted her outfit in Front of the mirror one last time. The tight-fitting, yet flexible, clothing she had to wear bunched awkwardly at times. She wanted everything perfect when she first walked in. She wanted a good day. Happy with her appearance, she turned to the coffee maker.
“Be quiet,” Olivia grunted, struggling against her restraints, her eighteen-year-old ass wiggling deliciously before me. “Or my dad will hear.”
I grabbed her hard by her dirty blonde hair, forcing her head back, arching her back. In the mirror across the room, I saw a look of pained ecstasy on her young face as her pert tits thrust forward. I slid a hand between her ass cheeks, my fingers covered in lube, as I teased her open. She bit her lip.
“You don’t tell me what to do anymore,” I growled in her ear. “You keep your mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for you.”
She nodded hurriedly, her mouth opening in a wide, silent moan of pain and pleasure as I began to slide into her ass.
“Yes, Sir…” she whispered, barely audible. The New York City skyline glittered in the distance from her bedroom window as I embedded myself up to the hilt in her tightness. A single tear slid out of the corner of her eye, running over her Tiffany necklace—the only thing she wore—before dissipating on the pink tip of her flushed breast.
So I’m visiting where I’m from for Christmas and my best friend is only in town for a week. We both are really busy but we find some time to hangout. Unfortunately it’s also with all of his siblings so we don’t get any 1 on 1 time. But there’s lots of weed, drinks and video games. This was a huge bummer because I didn’t get any beastie time but the biggest surprise I’ve had in a long time still awaited me. Jenny is his younger sister. We have a decent amount of years between us with myself being the older one. Jenny was a model that toured the world, but didn’t enjoy the life. She’s beautiful to say the least.
So through the course of the night Jenny and I got stuck on the same end of the couch. Before this, every interaction between us was strictly platonic. I wouldn’t say we grew up together, but I was around her from a very young age. We were never close, but if either one of us ever needed help we would have helped each other. So I’m on the very end of a large L couch and Jenny is next to me. At some point I start picking on her and grab her phone. Since she’s kind of obviously hiding the phone from me whenever I look over. We kind of wrestle but she gives the phone up somewhat easily. I look through her messages and I don’t find any pictures or anything else. The whole time shes kind of fighting me but not really. I end up giving her phone back sad I didn’t find anything. She then tells me I just didn’t click the right convo. After this things changed slightly. We are always touching now. Either our feet on the foot stool or her legs are resting on top of mine.
**Enough**
Never say “I love you” when you really mean “I’m sorry.”
I don’t stare at you. I deliberately don’t look at you, while you stomp around the apartment in dress-socked feet. As if you’re the one who’s been wronged. I scoff and shake my head.
Not only will you not have apologized when you *know* you’ve fucked up, but you’ll have tried to make me feel guilty for being too pissed off to say it back.
You yelled at me—took your awful, stressful week out on me—but *I’m* the heartless bitch who can’t say I love you back. I’m just one more thing in your life that won’t go right. Won’t cooperate. Won’t do and be and act the way you want me to.
My eye twitches when I hear you and your temper slam doors as you move through our home.
I love you.
You know I do.
But right now, I can’t stand to be in the same room as you.
I hear a loud crash, followed by a stream of swears.
Sighing, I shut my book and set it on the coffee table.
“Be a good girl while we’re gone, honey.” mom said, as she hoisted her final piece of luggage into the trunk.
“No promises.” I said with a grin, and she offered a warm smile in return, the skin around her eyes framed with gray wrinkling.
“At least try not to burn the house down.” dad added gruffly as he slammed the trunk shut and settled into the car.
“Yes sir.” I offered, and he flashed me a friendly smile in the rear view mirror as mom clambered into the car.
Even now, well into their late fifties, mom and dad were going strong, and this year, as always, they were off on their yearly honeymoon and anniversary celebration, coming as it did three months after the madhouse cluster of birthdays me and my thirteen sisters shared. In years past, they had sent me off to my sister’s place for the week, to stay with her and her two kids my own age, but this year they had decided to turn the house over to my care while they were gone.
As the car pulled out, mom gave a friendly wave, and soon my phone buzzed in my pocket.
He must have been considering me, curled into a ball yet paradoxically exposed for him. A drop of warm, cooling spit dripped onto my chest from what must have been his protruding cock.
He got off the bed and I gathered my senses, the pain of my ass and legs competing now with the burn of my lungs and the growing gnaw of ache from my arms.
A pause.
Uncertain length, but respite and consideration for both Master and subject.
The music played, calming and gorgeous, and he must have lit some wax melts, the camomile scent beginning to permeate the bedroom.
“Have,” he began, and with a whack a leathery multi-threaded whip hit me between my legs, vertical, between ass cheeks and asshole, my cunt, licking between them and curling behind me, between bed and my ass.
“You,” a repeated stroke, harder, slightly to one side, starting to hurt, Master had found his range.
“Done,” and again, this time there came a vicious, full blooded lash which made me jerk in a spasm of welling pain and come to rest on my side, freakishly jerking my legs and pulling the tight bound wrists with them, to avoid more strokes and the arcing pain where he had struck my very labia.
The way the ropes were, he couldn’t move his head, so his vision was static, just the white wall with sunlight splashed on it and empty space in his peripherals. The time: mid-morning. The risk: discovery. If he strained his ears, he could hear the shush-shush of her bare feet against the floor behind him. His own feet were tied to two of the legs of his chair.
Her hand was on the top of his head, in his hair. He felt almost overheated. There was a bead of sweat running down his back. The ropes were real hemp rope, like what you might use on a ship or a hammock, and scratched warmly a little if he moved. She traced her hand down over his ear and was using her nails by the time she reached the side of his throat. “I fantasize about everything I’ll do to you. You or someone like you.”
Niral was a young Indian girl I had met through friends whom I was only able to play with a few times. Her fetish was in objectification. Literally being made into things that were not exactly human or living. She loved the sorts of porn that featured women used as furniture or mindless sex toys.
Dear reader. You will note that we did a bad job being safe in this story. Primarily in that at a point she was totally unable to safeword or safe-signal. I’d recommend, if you try something like this, that the sub in question has something hand held that they can hit to notify you that they need help.
*******
She was pretty and tiny. One of those women that you worry you might break during sexual play. One of those women whom as you fucked, you worried, how does she have room?
I tend to prefer my women curvy, but there was something fun about how small she was. An aspect she liked to include in her play as a thing.
The suitcase itself was huge. It was her overseas bag, for traveling back and forth across the ocean to visit relatives and as such it was much bigger than it needed to be and quite sturdy.
As Maria and I ascended the steps from the tube up to the train station, we surfaced into a bustling crowd. Before I could pull out my phone, I spotted Freya not ten paces away. She was lovely, even prettier than her photos and sporting the suitcase we had talked so much about.
“There she is,” I said. It was on, and all three of us smiled. (Maria as she reads this: I said that first!)
To briefly catch you up, Maria and I have been together for more than four years. We started dating a month into university, and at the time she was ‘straight’. I live abroad, so when I went home for Christmas we would quickly whip each other into a frenzy of sex-starvation. In discussing our fantasies, as you might guess, threesomes became a common theme. After a year or two together, we began to explore when we had time. We had had two threesomes before this story: the first was fun but we didn’t click much, and the second was incredible but could never happen again. One last thing is that I write in my spare time, so this may end up quite long and literary. Half the fun is in the context! The girls have encouraged me to write this, so I have to impress them too of course. I’ll put a line break below for readers who want to skip down to the sex.