Snuff

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. ...

Author's Note: A young biker, not completely on the right side of the law, finds an unbelievable situation in the wheatfields of Kansas. “Some people worry about The End of the Dream. All I cared about was the Dream of the End.” Anonymous - WWII concentration camp survivor. I had been an outdoors type all my life. Given any set of mountains or wilderness, I could survive most comfortably with just a knife as a tool. Some of that was learned in childhood in the wilds of West Virginia, the rest with the Special Forces in the US Army. ...

Author's Note: A special arrangement by ’normal’ hotels worldwide allows BDSM travellers to live the lifestyle completely. This is a first story in that conceptual universe. Here we encounter the travails of a slavegirl as her mistress climbs the social ladder. Chapter 1 kinkhotels.com was created by group of business people who also made BDSM part of their lifestyle. They recognized a lapse in the market where high standard, BDSM friendly, luxury accommodation was not available to the discerning BDSM traveler. Participating hotels set aside special floors and/or whole areas within their premises that were inaccessible to non-BDSM guests. They also offered associated services and facilities. Of course, BDSM guests could avail themselves of the other, vanilla services and facilities with a proviso of keeping their activity covert. Checking in was through the normal counter but attended by a specially designated receptionist. Having booked through the site, the booking would be flagged as requiring special attention. The special receptionists would normally be lifestyle practitioners themselves, mostly slaves working the reception desk for their masters and owners. ...

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. ...

Author's Note: I do not condone slavery this story all comes from a fantasy in my head. Karen and her sister Laura were going on holiday to Mexico. They both worked as nurses and shared a flat together. They didn’t have a lot of friends and were happy with each other’s company. Karen was the older of the two at 26 and was a well-built brunette while Laura at 18 was a petite blonde. Karen usually made all the decisions. The two sisters had stopped at a hotel for the night before driving to the airport the next morning. It was quite run down and the clerk made the sisters uneasy. Karen was dressed in jeans and a tank top and Laura was in a short dress. ...

“It’s awfully heavy isn’t it?” Sir Howard sighed. “Yes, the intention was to make the wearer continuously aware of its presence.” “It looks awfully old.” “Not really,” Sir Howard replied. “Only about 200 years.” He was thinking of the difference between the English and American concepts of age when Priscilla spoke again. “It’s very pretty.” “Yes those old craftsmen decorated all their objects. They abhorred a plain surface. Besides, this was intended to be worn by a woman. But the silver and gold decoration you see was done in an earlier style.” ...

Author's Note: Synopsis: Animal rights activist Lucie is not exactly excited when her highschool’s Egyptian arts teacher asks her to help with a project in the museum. - Note: It’s more of a horror story than anything else. Entomophobes beware. P.S. English is not my mothertongue, so please bear with me. “For they have seen the King appearing in power As a god who lives on his fathers And feeds on his mothers ...

Annette was only half awake as her husband busily prepared himself for the day ahead; she sat at the dining table with her cup of coffee gradually coming to, she listened to him as he moved about the house getting ready to leave for work. He was going on about some major project he had on today but Annette was only just interested in the day she had planned and as soon as he left she would start. He was now standing by the front door, briefcase in hand looking for his car keys when Annette walked slowly over to him and held the keys out to him, kissing her on the cheek he grabbed the keys and opened the door “Don’t forget to feed Bessie!” he said as he left. ...

Author's Note: This is a fantasy I’ve had for a long time and played out in my head, with myself at various times as each character. It’s just something I need to get down on paper (so to speak)! Chapter 1 Girl leant forward over the kitchen sink to scrub a stubborn mark off the dish. With each movement of the sponge there could be heard a clinking sound as the thin steel chain between her handcuffs tapped the glass and crockery in the water. After years of wearing the cuffs (they had no keyholes, and were permanent), she had ceased to even notice when they made sound. ...

The two of us stood side by side. Well, we were ten feet apart, both housed in tall steel cages, but at least we were close to each other. The room was silent. In front of us was a panel of judges. We had been brought down into this complex two days ago, captured after my sister had made one too many phone calls from one building. After tracing the calls, agents had burst in on us. We were arrested and taken into custody. ...