Trystl on Utopia Stories Library

A Plague of Ponies

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: This story contains bondage, some of it fairly explicit. However, there’s also a lot of story here. And much of the more erotic material comes somewhat later in the story. For example, chapter one doesn’t contain any sex or bondage… although there are hints of some of the things to come. Consider your self warned.

This story is also fairly long… 21 chapters; and it is complete, but I will be submitting it a few chapters at a time. This will allow me to edit the chapters as I go… which, in addition to catching a few spelling/grammar errors, will allow me to recall which story codes are appropriate. I will include all the codes I can think of that I’m sure fit for the story as a whole, but may add others as I notice them. Some of these tags may be fairly minimal. For instance, in chapter one there’s a reference to incestual activity, but no actual scenes where incest occurs. Not sure if it occurs later in the story, I’ll have to wait until I edit to be sure.

Go Not Gently

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: You can see a version of the story with illustrations at DeviantArt.com. Just search for Trystl, and it should come up.

This is a story in the Hunting Season Universe, although (as promised) it’s not set on Renaldo’s Island, and the tone/mood is far different from Fanni’s story.

1 - Display Case

The display case.

I hate it.

I hate the long hours of forced standing. I hate the cute little outfit they force me into. I hate the people who come to gawk at me. Most of all, I hate those who think they have a right to put me in here, trapped behind a cage of glass, like some animal in a zoo. Only zoo animals are, at least, allowed to pace back and forth. I’m forced to stand in agony, unable to move.

Hunting Season

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

1 - Body in the Alcove

“Holy shit! Is it real?”

“Looks pretty damned real.”

Fanni had to agree.

She was looking into a large glass box, sitting on a pedestal. It looked like the typical, free-standing museum case but she had the feeling its purpose had more in common with a trophy case, for inside it was what appeared to be the life-like body of a dead woman. She was floating in some kind of clear liquid, presumably a preservative of some kind; and there was something about the body that didn’t look quite real. Perhaps it was just the body’s unnatural stillness, for Fanni had seen stuffed animals that gave her the same sort of feeling. Or perhaps it was looking at flesh and hair through the glass and liquid. If it was an actual dead woman, the body had been perfectly preserved. When she looked closely Fanny couldn’t see any wrinkles on the woman’s face, but she could see tiny hairs on her body. Her pubic mound had been shaven, and her arms and legs had been cut off. Stooping low to look at the end of the stump, Fanny could see the striations of bone, muscle and skin. Again, it didn’t quite look real, but if this was some kind of bizarre statue, the artist had done a remarkable job and paid incredible attention to detail.

Jumping Jack

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: I’ve made a few somewhat major adjustments to the story. Readers of the previous version mentioned that during the last few chapters it started to become a little difficult to tell who was who, with all the different characters inhabiting different bodies… so I tried to edit with that in mind. I also extended the “bondage scene” where I accidentally forgot to finish the scene before loading it last time. That will provide the breath play that a commenter noted wasn’t in the story last time. It’s in there now. I also made some revisions to the characters personalities and background. Hope old readers (if there are any) will enjoy the changes. And new readers won’t have to deal with the errors.

Just Another Fantasy Gone Wrong

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: This is the first part in a story of mistaken identities that (at first) will be a little light on the bondage; while it has a distinctly bondage theme, there will be very few actual bondage scenes for the first dozen or so pages. Each part of the story will be told from a different person’s POV and reveal a little more of the plot, while also retelling certain parts from another perspective.

Just Business

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: I’m on Deviant Art now, for anyone who wants to check me out over there.

I think it’s deviantart.com. Just search for Trystl and I should come up.

Aside from a few stories that aren’t posted here, I’ve also got some art to go with some of the stories… and a long list of nice favorite pix you might like. So check it out.

Eddy liked his job. He was the night security guard for Punicorp, “Pronounced pewn·ah·corp; not poon·ee·corp,” as his boss used to always tell him. There were other guards, stationed at other entrances, but he’d been with the company long enough that he’d secured the coveted front desk job, which meant that he didn’t have to do hourly rounds. His job was to sit at his desk alone, watching the empty rooms on the monitors and coordinating any issues with the other guards at their various stations.

Just Perfect

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: This story was based on three pix from various artists at DA. Since then, I’ve recreated those images myself, using 3D art. These image can be found at Deviant Art, under the name TrystlsInk. My Trystl page has been permanently banned. The Visionsofdarkness website may also have a copy.

Chapter 1 - The Perfect Boss

I was a real person once, with a life that was (at least partially) my own.

Kally's Diary

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

First Try

Where do I begin?

What do you say when someone you’ve loved your entire life does something like this? It’s crazy and mean and spiteful! I can’t believe she… I’m rambling, but… have to start somewhere. I only have so much time to get this done. I wish I could erase but I can’t. I wasn’t given an eraser. She told me not to cross anything out. I guess that’s part of the plan. I don’t know why. I wasn’t given much instruction. All I know is that I have to write this story about my life… and about my sister.

Pavlov's Dog

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: Normally, SNUFF is one of those topics that I don’t care for reading. But ironically, this is the second story with that tag that I’ve posted on this site. “Playing Games” (as those who’ve read the story know) doesn’t actually end in death. I won’t give away the ending of this story, however, I think (like the other) it deal with the topic from an unusual POV.

Personally, I don’t particularly understand the fascination with snuff–which is healthy. lol. But even as a fantasy, I just don’t get it. For me, it just seems like such a waste. To me, the point of kidnapping and torturing a woman would seem to be the gratification of watching her suffer. Obviously, that’s not something I would do myself, but I can at least understand a motivation. But if you’re going to kill her, you’re removing your ability to do that more in the future. That’s sort of like the Ebola virus that kills its victims so rapidly they often don’t have time to spread the disease, which causes the outbreak to falter and not spread very far. In much the same way, “snuff” just seems like fantasy suicide to me.

Playing Games

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: This story is written in 1st person, so the dominant could easily be any sex. But I have selected the F-f tag because the idea for the story was inspired by a work of art by Gnarly Thotep, which depicts two women. One has a noose around her neck, arms bound behind her back and one leg tied up in the air. The other woman is lifting a second rope and looks to be planning to raise the leg that’s still on the round so the woman is forced to hang from her neck.

Race Against Time

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: Been awhile since I’ve posted here. Been focusing on doing illustrations for my stories using DAZ3D and kind of lost track of this site.

This particular story is another one with more story than bondage–for those who enjoy that.

8:15 p.m. Omega Day

Ten years ago, my best friend, Tod, killed his wife.

He caught Alicia sleeping with another man (something she’d been doing frequently behind his back for years) and in a fit of jealous rage, he shot her dead. Tod never seemed like the jealous type; always claimed to trust his wife implicitly. Even when I tried to tell him (in a tactful way) that she couldn’t be trusted, he refused to believe me.

Shell

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: This is a relatively short and very mild story about a Vampire’s chattel. Most of the “bondage” element is implied or of a psychological nature. Mind-control because… they’re vampires! Bondage because… the main character IS bound, although I spend very little time describing it. You are forewarned.

Marisa is hunting again.

I can see that she’s surfing the Internet as I set the drink she requested down on the table beside her and wait to see if she’ll need anything else. I know she knows I’m watching her. It doesn’t take a psychic to figure that out. But I always wonder what it means when she doesn’t reprimand me for it.

Surprise Party

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: This story is based on a drawing by Raul Fernando. If you’ve seen it, you may recognize which one before the story is finished.

“Okay, boys,” Mary said. “Have fun at the movies and all. We’ll meet you at my house afterwards.”

Johnny grinned and gave me a wink. “And you girls have fun shopping.”

From the arch leading to the kitchen I watched them leave: Johnny, my boyfriend, and his two best friends, Kenny and Tim. Johnny turned when he reached the front door. “I love you,” he mouthed silently, looking at me with that beautiful smile-attractiveness runs in his family. Then he flipped down the collar of his coat and walked out into the cold winter air.

The Arrangement

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“Oh my God,” Mandy and Derrick both said at the same time when Lori walked in on them. For a moment she just looked at them with those big unbelieving eyes of hers. Then, without a word, she backed up and closed the bedroom door behind her, as if she thought maybe they hadn’t see her looking right at them.

Mandy looked over at him in alarm. “Don’t let her leave,” she said, as she jumped up and started pulling on her shorts.

The Book of Bondage

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: The original version of this story was the first mainstream story that I ever wrote. Recently, I got the idea to rewrite it with a bondage theme, and in some ways I think it actually works better (at the metaphorical level) this way.

That said, the story is definitely a bit heavier on the story than it is on the bondage; but that’s not all that uncommon for my work, I think.

The Death Penalty

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: The story codes may imply a more graphic level of story violence than is actually delivered–but the theme is decidedly dark.

I can’t believe this is happening, Sara Johnson thought to herself. How did I ever let myself get trapped with a husband like this? He’d seemed like such a catch at the time.

Sara’s arms were bound tightly behind her back, in a Japanese style chest harness; she was lying on a musty mattress, still damp from her own urine. He’d left her bound for what seemed like days; then punished her when he found she hadn’t held her water, by looping a rope around her waist and tying it off with a slip knot. As he’d pulled the rope tight she’d felt her organs sloshing around inside her as they adjusted to the new shape of her body. It was an odd feeling, not too unlike mud being squished through her toes. He’d tied the end of the waist-rope to the mass of knots behind her back, tugging to make it as tight as he possibly could. Even with her back arched the rough fibers of the rope tore at the tender flesh between her legs.

The Forgetful Sleep

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Greg’s front door was made of thick patterned glass that broke up the light, making it difficult to tell what was on the other side; but when Mandy rang the doorbell she noticed a splotch of tan color moving and knew someone had been kneeling in the foyer on the other side of the door. Obviously, Greg had tasked one of his slaves with waiting for her arrival.

It was almost enough to make Mandy feel guilty for being so late-but not quite.

The Torture of Choice

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: If you’re just looking for straight bondage without a story, be warned. The first chapter starts out VERY slowly–but ut it will pick up rapidly in chapter 2, and stays reasonably strong in subsequent chapters. I’m not sure what the policy is on placing tags. Do I put what this chapter merits, or do I put what’s in the whole story? I’m going to go for the later, since I don’t expect many will want to start a story they’ll later find out they don’t want to read. I tried to put the the various codes in relative order to how dominant they are in the story.

The Ugly Duckling

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: This short story is one of the relatively few things I’ve written that is completely consensual. It’s relatively light on bondage or other erotic themes too. It’s more of a psychological exploration, I think.

“Good girl,” Dr. Paul said as he gave Mariliu a loving pat on the top of her fur-covered head.

He pronounced her name like Merrilee-you, and she liked that. Not only was it pretty and exotic; it was also a good description of how she felt most of the time these days. She licked her lips, enjoying the slightly bitter taste of the fluid that was already drying at the corners of her mouth; then she stuck her head back in his lap and began to clean him off as well.

White Flag (Mad Crazy Love)

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Author's Note: There are also some illustrations for this story that can be found at Deviant Art and Visionsofdarkness. Happy hunting.

Chapter 1

I’ve always been the kind of person who likes to listen to songs that have a personal meaning in my life. Lately, I’d been listening to White Flag, by Dido, a lot-so much, in fact that I know when I finally stop listening to it I would probably never want to hear the song again.