Meter Level One - Establishing A Base Line! As far as I was concerned she was a pseudo submissive. She played at being a sub’, and probably was to an extent, but only when she was calling the shots. I figured her out within the first couple of play sessions we did and knew she was constantly guiding the scene to her own advantage and topping me from the bottom. ...
Kelly’s head was pounding. That and where ever she was damm cold. Complicating matters was she was completely naked. She looked around. She stood in a white room with a molded white table and chair that looked like part of the floor. One end had a computer screen with one green and one red buttons under it. The other end had a series of red drawers. Twelve in all. Each drawer had a keypad. She remembered backpacking through Europe with her friend and stopping off at a little hostile/inn and then drinking too damm much beer. Her friend. Lynn was not in the room with her. Was she dead? No, she did not think so. Where was she? A mental ward? No, at least the would have given her something to wear. The screen beeped. She read what was on it. ...
Talk about being handed a gift on a platter or an offer I just couldn’t refuse. It was only three weeks since I had cleared my workshop of the last project. My bank accounts were in a very healthy state and I wasn’t even thinking about a new project until, that is, I saw the hiker. She didn’t blatantly have her thumb out, but was obviously looking for a ride. Standing on the edge of the sidewalk with her, I guessed 5'2", body screaming for attention. I ran the picture through my mental computer. Pale blue flowered halter top, very tight denim short shorts, new looking running shoes and a small white box purse. Over her left shoulder a half empty backpack completed the picture of an elfin like girl in her late teens or early twenties. ...
LIFE SUCKS! This was the thought that rolled thru her head… deafened her mind to the world around her and any possible escape from the dull, day-to-day existance that she lived. Everyday was the same… she awoke… she wen’t to her low paying, intolerably boring job… she came home to the solitary confines of her empty apartment … the only relief was her computer, there she was loved… there she was beautiful … there she was wanted … to dream that someday real life could be like her fantasies brought tears to her cheeks and an ache to her sorrowful heart. ...
He had run every red light between the Strand and St John’s Wood and it seemed like all the speed cameras in London had flashed him as well but the late evening traffic was light and it had taken him just 20 minutes so far. He knew he was close and when he turned the corner, all four tires squealing and saw the flashing lights, the endless lines of police cars and back up units, the Fire Engines and the Ambulances and heard helicopter blades beating the air rhythmically above him, he knew he was in the right place. ...
Jennifer Holt was in a hurry to reach her third story loft, for tomorrow was the big day at work when she would actually have a real meeting with her new boss. “The proper thing to do here is get a good nights rest,” she wisely thought. Jennifer had only hired on a week ago and events were happening almost too fast now for this very modest small town girl. ...
Author's Note: This story and the characters and places therein are 100% fictional. Please don’t take this as an endorsement in any way of the actions of any character. This material is intended only for getting off and should be kept completely divorced from reality. I wrote most of this story in about a month, then added the last few chapters over the next couple months, and now it’s been two more months and I can’t write another word of it. I will probably never finish it, I’m afraid. I’m not even sure what the appeal was in the first place. Do note that Gagged Utopia does not have a “transgender” tag, so consider this it. This story doesn’t take place in the real world or any particular fictional world. Feel free to email with any other feedback, although I rarely check my inbox, or leave a comment. ...
Part I Only £200 for a bondage slave? Steve looked at the auction item on the web site! They can’t be serious. It must be a mistake. They can’t sell slaves over the Internet. Mind you, anything is possible these days. You read of far too much going on where people have been auctioned off, but that is usually some fantasy story the papers make up to sell their papers surely? But the reserve price had not been met yet! There was still another 2 days to go before the auction ended. It must be a misprint. Probably an original erotic painting or something! But the £200 had been there for the last 5 days. ...
Author's Note: Trying something a little different in this one. Experimenting with dialogue. Another story of non-consensual activities so please do not read if you don’t like. Like my other stories, it will undoubtedly be a bit slow. Chapter One I seated myself opposite her, sinking slowly down into the deeply cushioned velvet luxury of the armchair she had indicated. The smiling hall porter who’d accompanied me silently placed the tray he was carrying onto the small glass-topped table between us, poured two cups from the coffee pot and departed closing the door behind him without a sound. ...
Author's Note: Something I wrote sometime back, Personally I think it’s a story that turned out quite good and find it quite kinky still. Hope it’s enjoyed… Ashley was truly a rare breed if you ever saw one, a true beautiful woman who of all things was a competent cat burglar. It’s the one thing you would never have expected out of someone such as her. She was after all brought up by her father, who in his earlier life was a cat burglar himself and he had taken the time to teach his young daughter all there was to know of how to get past some of the best security systems. ...