Non-Consensual

Author's Note: If you’re here for the ‘good stuff’ and not the story, then start at chapter 2. Enjoy. I’d love to hear your feedback. Chapter 1: Bad Brake Vanessa moaned in utter ecstasy, thrusting her hips against the vibrator buried deep in her pussy. She seductively rubbed her big, round tits and curled her toes as she writhed on the bed. Spent, she slumped back onto the silk sheets. After a moment, she brushed her long black hair out of her face and winked at the camera mounted on her desk in front of the bed. She blew it a kiss before getting up and turning it off. She glanced at the clock on the wall. ...

Part 1 It was a short while after midnight, and only a few people were still awake, at football training camp. Dylan, being one of them, decided to take a stroll, and explore the grounds. As he left the sleeping area, he did not notice a dark figure sneaking out after him. Craig followed Dylan at a safe distance, with a large heavy bag on his back, in which he kept his ‘supplies’. Dylan walked around for a while, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being followed. He took a shortcut through a small dark forest, to get back to the camp. After a while, he came to a clearing, where he stopped, thinking he had heard footsteps behind him. Before he could turn to look, he was tackled to the ground from behind, and a pair of handcuffs snapped on his wrists, behind his back, and another on his ankles. He managed to roll over, and there was Craig, standing over him, leering unpleasantly. ‘I’ve waited for so long to do that. Now you’re mine’ said Craig, before crouching down and punching Dylan several times through the face, and in the stomach. Suddenly, without warning, Dylan lifted both his feet, and kicked Craig in the groin with all the force he could muster. Craig collapsed on the ground, holding his crotch, and rolled over onto his back. Dylan tried to sit up, but was overcome by the pain from all the punches, and collapsed onto the ground. Once Craig had recovered himself, he got up, limping slightly, and rolled Dylan over onto his stomach. Dylan was conscious, but his eyes were blurred, and he couldn’t muster the strength to move. This suited Craig perfectly, as he pulled several bundles of rope out of his bag, to restrain Dylan properly. To make sure that Dylan couldn’t put up a fight, Craig started by tying his legs. After undoing the handcuffs, he pulled off Dylan’s shoes, socks and jeans, leaving Dylan naked from the waist down, except for his boxers. He then tied ropes securely around Dylan’s knees (above and below), around his thighs, and around his ankles, all of which he cinched tightly, to ensure that Dylan could not slip out of them. He then used a thin piece of rope to tie Dylan’s big toes together, to so that Dylan could not move his feet apart. Finally satisfied that Dylan’s legs were secure, he moved on to restraining his upper body. After removing the handcuffs, he pulled Dylan’s t-shirt off, and removed the silver chain around Dylan’s neck, leaving his chest and back completely bare. He then tied one end of a long piece of rope around Dylan’s left wrist, and did the same with another piece of rope around his right wrist. ...

“Can I bury you?” Asked Jim. “Bury me? Why? Shouldn’t I be dead first?” Mary shot back, looking a little confused. He laughed. “no, not all the way, just up to your neck, it could be a lot of fun.” She looked at him like he was crazy. She then replied. “Do you mean like in that movie the other night, like in “CreepShow”? “Because it didn’t look like they were having a whole lot of fun in the movie” ...

The snooty doorman gave me a dirty look, but he let me in anyway. He had to. He knew me from the other times that I had visited the building. And he knew that my friend Nikki was a registered tenant and would allow me in. But he didn’t like letting people like me, in my old, wet biker leathers, into his posh apartment block. Nikki’s dad had bought a bachelor flat as an investment in the new London financial district, and he was holding it while the market was in a slump. Nikki meanwhile could live in it while she studied sculpture at St. Martin’s College. It had become the hang-out of choice for our group of friends. ...

Author's Note: English not primary language hopefully English is improving enough to make enjoyable fantasy. Part 1 I had left my house two days prior and had planned to be gone for several more days in fact two weeks. I had done everything I thought necessary to secure the house and insure that all of my travel connections were correct. I had notified the security company that monitors the house for fire and breakings. The only thing I hadn’t counted on was the country I was planning to go to had some kind of political upheaval and I didn’t get on the last plane and came back home. ...

Author's Note: Trying my hand at a little sci-fi. Let me know what you think! Chapter 1 “So much for the exciting life of a Starship Captain!” Elana muttered to herself. Six months into her nine month trip in the cargo ship Nuevo Mundo to the Kepler system to resupply the two colonies there and then transport their Mithril ore to Trappist 1 for processing. That cargo of refined Mithrium will bring her back to the manufacturing plants on Mars. Six months off then do it all again. It takes a special person to stand the solitude of a three year trip, even with the newest version Brain/Computer Interface Virtual Reality pod and virtual reality “books” to occupy her leisure time. ...

Author's Note: Wrote this a long back. Didn’t publish. English is not my first or second language, so pardon my mistakes. The story contains long term metal bondage, slavery, torture. Please share your valuable comment. It inspires us to write more. Chapter 1 (added: ) “You definitely need a glass of water” was his first words to me. I was almost shivering in fear as the flight started moving. I looked at the source of the words, my co-passanger, he had a charming smile. I took the glass of water from him and returned a weak smile back at him. ...

It was a cold, misty morning in March and Anna was on her way to work. She caught the Bus most winter mornings, but on this occasion she had decided to walk. Gazing lazily down at her small feet as she strode forwards, she pulled her handbag further up onto her shoulder. Suddenly she felt her body stiffen as she sensed someone behind her. She glanced fleetingly behind her, but saw nothing but an empty street. Still worried, she quickened her pace and tried to convince herself that it had been merely her imagination playing tricks. It was only one minute later however, that the feeling of being followed by a mysterious stalker returned to her. This time she looked more subtly behind her, only to see a hunched figure reseeding behind his thick green jacket walking about ten yards behind her on the other side of the road. Relieved and finally feeling safe (the man looked small and un - threatening) she exhaled strongly and continued her walk. It was only at this time, when she expected no attack, that it came. She saw nothing but a blur of silver, and then darkness. ...

Part 1 I have never been a very confident girl – my English father left us when I was very young, my Chinese mother always blamed me for that and never had a good word to say to me. Even though I was a pretty girl, with my mixed race looks, she always denigrated me and put me down, so I never believed it when people said nice things about me. I wear my black hair tomboy-short, have big, black-rimmed glasses to hide my face, and I always dress to disappear into the background, because I’m embarrassed by my curvaceous figure. I am bright, and left home to go to university at eighteen, moving as far away as possible, both physically and culturally – going from a small country village to the big city. I struggled for the first few months, unable to make friends and having to rent a squalid flat. I threw myself into my work and cried myself to sleep at night. And then I met the man who was going to change my life. ...

She made one more glance to her right as she slipped the lock kit from the pouch on her belt, her large case sitting beside her on the rough concrete stairs. In short order she bested the old pin tumbler lock and gained entry to the modest yet well maintained home. She had to be careful as the streets were filled with carnivale’ revelers. Most eyes on her were sufficiently intoxicated, a reassuring thought. Though the house was situated a bit off from the main festival there was still plenty of foot traffic. ...