Non-Consensual

Author's Note: I knocked this story up one evening by bringing together elements of a couple of unfinished stories after going through a long period of ‘writer’s block’. Maybe I am over that now, perhaps not! “Noisy” I muttered to myself giving the duvet cover one final twitch to centre the crest of my favourite soccer team slap bang in the middle of the bed. Little fusspot would be sure to notice if it was even half a centimetre out! I paused just as I was smoothing everything down again as a loud scream sounded from the adjacent building. A second, third and fourth followed and then after a pause a couple more finishing with an extended long and particularly shrill one that made even me wince. ...

Prolog A genuine slave ship - a wooden sailor, at that - was something that a person wouldn’t expect to see in the first half of the twenty-first century. But here was one, sails set and cruising along on the empty sea toward some unknown destination. A week ago I would never have believed the story under any circumstances. Even now, the reality hadn’t really sunk in. There were some considerable differences between our vessel and those that plied the trade two hundred years ago, hauling half dead unfortunates across the Atlantic toward a life of bondage. For one thing, this one was spotless and the air below decks was fresh and cool. The food was good and no bodies were thrown overboard in the mornings. ...

Author's Note: I started in on my hobby of writing by doing sequels to stories by other writers. That is the way my imagination often runs. Now it has happened again. This one is the first of a set of sequels to Girls Friday, by Morlock. I have asked him for permission, which he granted. He has seen advance copies before the sequels are posted. This is a sequel, so it begins with the action already well underway. In order to better understand what is happening, you need to read Morlock’s original story first. ...

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. ...

Author’s note*: This is the 4th story I’ve written. This is a fictional story; there is no way this could actually happen. Sorry if there are any spelling/grammar errors, it takes a long time to edit and you still can’t catch every mistake. Thanks for reading and enjoy. | |Chapter 1 - Real Life Nightmare* “Emily, Emilyyy.” Whispered the quiet, soft voice of an unseen woman. Emily quickly looked around the dark, destroyed room to find no one else with her. She attempted to move towards a door but her foot became instantly caught. She looked down at a cruel metal cuff locked onto her ankle; the chain was buried into the cement of the floor. ...

Chapter 1 - Interview with a Mistress Sarah pulled up in her car with some trepidation. She checked the address again; yes, this was the right number. She had been expecting somewhere nice, after all the ad had been for a maid and only someone very well off could afford a maid, but this place was a mansion with grounds surrounded by a imposing wall. Sarah was a pretty, slim girl of 18 with blonde hair that fell half way down her back. She wasn’t sure how she felt about applying for a maid’s position. The whole idea of maids seemed a bit anachronistic. But Sarah knew she needed money if she was going to apply for college next year since she wasn’t eligible for a scholarship and this position paid surprisingly well. ...

Author's Note: With apologies to the late Aaron Spelling. This is a work of hard core fantasy. In the real world, this probably isn’t possible and would be just plain wrong. Enjoy it in that context please. This is my second story, using the great feedback from the first. Each chapter is intended to provide content of interest :) Chapter 1: All Aboard From the foot of the gangway, the ship didn’t look that big. It was maybe 500 feet long, stem to stern and of an older style. A modern cruise ship is all about balconies and wide open decks. From below, this one seemed to have nothing but small portholes and was all ship. This was my first concrete sign of what awaited. ...

Author's Note: This is a different theme to my first story ‘A Model Worker’. Hope you like it, constructive criticism always welcomed. Chapter 1: In bondage no one can hear me scream Ba-dum … Ba-dum …. My heart is beating powerfully and fast. Ba-dum … Ba-dum …. Darkness. Endless darkness. My eyes are open yet I can see nothing. Ba-dum … Ba-dum …. Silence. I hear nothing outside of my own body. All I hear is my blood pumping through my veins and my laboured breathing whistling like a sirocco through my nostrils. ...

Author's Note: Just a quickie story for Halloween - enjoy! Barbara studied the pile of materials on the table suspiciously, arms crossed and a doubtful look on her pretty face. Tucking her blonde hair behind her left ear, she picked up one of the plastic/latex items and studied it even more closely, turning it this way and that, then finally put it down and addressed the man standing quietly on the opposite side of the table. ...

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing a story. “You want me to hang you for Halloween???” Marianne was aghast. “No, you’re not going to hang me,” I explained, “It is just going to *look* like I’m being hanged.” Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. It gives me a chance to indulge in certain interests of mine, which any other time of the year would be frowned upon. ...