theDerangedArchitect
01-26-2010, 05:20 AM
just for my forum friends.
i have a new story, not released on the library. for those of you that don't recognize me, my author name is xsm6x.
this new story is a letter, written by a young woman named lindsay campbell, to her boyfriend evan. in this letter, she describes her perfect bondage scenario. it can be found here:
writing.com/authors/robert_pearle
here is one of the reviews for Lindsay's Letter:
Robert,
What I liked:
I think your idea for something different worked wonders. This is incredibly hot. It conveys not only a fantasy, but also some of the ways she views her boyfriend... it's a huge compliment to him.
What I didn’t like:
I don't think I saw anything in particular that I didn't like.
Overall Impression:
You have a knack for erotica and this is an excellent piece.
still undecided? here is an extra bonus: the first two chapters from Lindsay's Letter:
---
He’s been watching me for weeks. Months, even. He’s an expert at what he does and I never noticed him there, lurking in the bushes, peeking in through my window. Waiting for this night.
So many preparations have gone into this moment. He’s spent a hundred sleepless nights, fantasizing about me, planning to hold me hostage and turn me into a slave to his every sexual desire.
And finally, that moment has come.
It’s late one evening—a weekday. It can’t be a weekend, because my routine is very irregular. He’s watched the house long enough to know that sometimes my friends show up unannounced. And as much fun as it would be to own two or three girls, there’s only one woman he wants.
No, he doesn’t want me, he needs me.
He lurks beneath my window until I get up and go into the bathroom, at which point he looks at his watch, knowing that he only has twenty minutes to get inside.
Only five is needed, however. Lockpicking is a skill he’s often practiced. The front door opens effortlessly and he’s inside, creeping toward my bedroom, hiding in the shadows of the hallway. He can hear the water running and you know, somewhere in that thick steam, I’m soaping my soft, naked body. Letting the water patter from my face, letting it flow down the curves of my sexy form.
The shower sputters, and goes quiet. The next few minutes are grueling. Through the wall, he can hear the rustling of the towel against my skin, the scrush-scrush as I brush my matted brown hair, the sshhh-sshhh as I brush my teeth.
There’s a silence. He knows I’m dressing for bed. He knows the moment is imminent. He aches for me; the wait is literally painful. Agonizing.
With a click, the door opens. He can’t seem me at first, but he can hear me humming softly. Taking a deep breath, he tenses, and I walk into view. Toward the door, toward the kitchen for my nightly glass of juice.
As soon as I open the door, I see him. My eyes bulge and my mouth opens wide in a silent, startled gasp. There is a masked man in my house, dressed entirely in black, standing in my doorway.
And Evan lunges.
He doesn’t use chloroform. No, he wants to feel me wriggle and writhe, he wants to feel the rush of conquering me. One hand covers my mouth, the other is pressed against my tailbone, pulling me close.
I try to fight back, but my efforts are useless. He’s an expert at tying up pretty girls, but none so pretty as me. That’s his career, kidnapping gorgeous High School cheerleaders and beautiful College co-eds, and selling them to the highest bidder. But not me; for Evan, the price for me is too rich for anyone’s blood.
We fight, but he’s unstoppable. Evan’s giant, rock-hard arms keep me pinned against him. He pushes me over to the bed, keeping his hand over my mouth until he can push my head into the pillow. My hands are pulled behind my back and quickly handcuffed. So are my ankles. Then he rolls me over and pushes a ballgag into my mouth, and blindfolds me with a piece of silk. Just for good measure, he strips my pillow of the case and pulls it over my head and shoulders.
Only then can he stand back and fully enjoy his victory. An undersized pink t-shirt reveals my slim, sexy midriff. Having squeezed my breasts during the struggle—he couldn’t help himself—he knows I’m not wearing a bra. Only a thin pair of plain white cotton panties protects my thighs, and aside from matching socks, I’m naked.
“Oh God,” Evan says, his voice deep and scary, “I’ve waited so long for this.”
I barely hear him over my muffled cries for help. Blind, I’m lifted from the mattress and thrown over the tall man’s shoulder and carried downstairs, and outside, where he has a van hidden at the end of the driveway. I’m dropped inside, and we drive off.
Evan is barely able to focus on the road. His eyes remain on the rearview mirror, watching me wiggle on the floor of the van. He can’t wait to get me all to himself. His palms tingle at the thought of my freshly-soaped flesh.
He isn’t worried about the police. He chose this night specifically because the only cops on-duty are Freemasters like he is.
Halfway there, he pulls over and crawls back with me. I hear him unbuttoning his pants.
“Fuck, I can’t help myself,” he tells me, his hard cock springing free. With a tough, calloused hand he starts to stroke the thick, hot wedge. Straddling my thighs, making me remain on my back, he stars to jerk off.
It takes only seconds. Evan lifts himself so he’s on all fours (all threes, actually, one hand is busy) and explodes all over the pillowcase.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Lindsay…fuck, you’re so sexy…”
Hot splatters of come rain all over the pillowcase and rub against my face. My body twists in an attempt to get out from under him, to no avail. I have to lay there and accept this man’s ejaculation all over me, as humiliating as it might be. His come is contained only to the pillowcase though; he wants to keep me clean and untainted until he gets me all alone.
Evan returns to the wheel. The intermission was only a temporary fix; he’s stiff again by the time he starts the van.
The “permanent” fix is well on its way. The van rumbles forward, and we take off into the night.
2
With his precious captive laying helpless in the van, Evan returns to his lair. It’s an old warehouse he own in the middle of Sussex’s industrial district, long abandoned. We pull inside and the door ratchets shut behind us, echoing in the cavernous room.
The engine dies and Evan rounds the van, pulling me out and carrying me to a mattress on the floor. A sheet keeps my body from touching the semen-stained fabric. Overhead, a wicked-looking hook dangles from a chain.
My heart pounds in my chest. My breath is hot on my face, trapped by the pillowcase. Every square inch of my body glistens with sweat, as though I’ve only just now emerged from the shower.
Evan pulls the case from my head and discards it, admiring the shiny red sphere stifling my pleas and the glimmering silver strip over my eyes. I’m completely helpless to resist him.
“Stand up, beautiful,” he orders sharply, pulling me to my feet. The cuffs are released from my hands only long enough for Evan to pull my hands in front of me and re-shackle them. Then they’re looped over the hook. Before I can free myself, Evan has pressed the ‘up’ button on a nearby control panel, and my arms are pulled tight.
He circles me, admiring my body, and pulls the blindfold from my eyes. Squinting, I look over my unmasked captor.
Evan is tall, dark, and handsome. He’s older than me, but by no means an old man. I’d give him five or six years. Judging by his physique, I can tell he’s no stranger to the gym. No wonder I succumbed so easily to him.
Drool dribbles from the gag onto my shirt but Evan ignores it, actually finds it very sexy. He stands beside me, his leather-gloved hand finding my bum. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, Lindsay,” he whispers into my ear. The heat of his breath on my earlobe gives me goosebumps. He inhales deeply, enjoying the scent of lavender shampoo. “You’re all mine.”
His fingers squeeze and manhandle my ass. Simultaneously, he slides beneath my shirt and helps himself to a handful of my plump, firm breasts. I try to wriggle free of this man’s lustful indulgences, but as I’m on my tip-toes already, trying to escape only causes the handcuffs to bite into my wrists painfully.
Soon, Evan gets rid of the gloves. His hardened palms explore my body as he speaks again.
“I’ve dreamed of this day for so long, Lindsay. Having you here, shackled and helpless. Having your soft, sexy body all to myself.”
There are so many things I want to say, but the ballgag turns my every word to mush. I jump in surprise when his finger worms beneath the band of my panties and he finds my smooth, freshly-shaved pussy.
“You like that, don’t you?” He asks, rubbing me. “You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?”
My eyes are closed. Try as I might, I can’t deny the simple fact that Evan is very sexually appealing. I can’t deny it, either. The hot stickiness on his fingers gives me away. Just as my clit begins to quake, he withdraws and sucks my juices from his fingers. Then he starts again, and again the heat begins to build. Once more, he brings me to the verge, and denies me.
Finally, he lets me come. The pressure has become unbearable by the time I come. I lose myself in the sheer sexual bliss. My legs turn to jelly and eventually refuse to support me.
Evan catches me, though, wrapping me up in a bear hug so I won’t just dangle from my wrists. “Don’t hurt those pretty hands of yours, Lindsay,” he warns, as I breathe heavily and try to regain my composure.
When I look up at him, my expression fearful and maybe even a little aroused, he sets me on my feet again. “You liked that, Lindsay. Don’t even try to deny it.”
I look away from him and close my eyes, my cheeks reddening. A hundred excuses spin through my head: that was an adrenaline-orgasm, it couldn’t be helped. I came because he was touching me, not because I enjoyed it. Actually, I faked the orgasm. But there’s no denying the truth.
“But you’re a naughty girl,” he chides, his hand finding my ass again. He gives it a firm, hard slap. Crack!
I yelp, my ass stinging. Another cruel slap. Crack! And another. Crack! Crack!
He spanks me five times. I wince, waiting for the sixth, but it never comes.
“You can’t orgasm without my permission, Lindsay,” Evan says. Annoyed, I give him a dirty look. Why didn’t he say that in the first place? “…But now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, we can get started.”
i have a new story, not released on the library. for those of you that don't recognize me, my author name is xsm6x.
this new story is a letter, written by a young woman named lindsay campbell, to her boyfriend evan. in this letter, she describes her perfect bondage scenario. it can be found here:
writing.com/authors/robert_pearle
here is one of the reviews for Lindsay's Letter:
Robert,
What I liked:
I think your idea for something different worked wonders. This is incredibly hot. It conveys not only a fantasy, but also some of the ways she views her boyfriend... it's a huge compliment to him.
What I didn’t like:
I don't think I saw anything in particular that I didn't like.
Overall Impression:
You have a knack for erotica and this is an excellent piece.
still undecided? here is an extra bonus: the first two chapters from Lindsay's Letter:
---
He’s been watching me for weeks. Months, even. He’s an expert at what he does and I never noticed him there, lurking in the bushes, peeking in through my window. Waiting for this night.
So many preparations have gone into this moment. He’s spent a hundred sleepless nights, fantasizing about me, planning to hold me hostage and turn me into a slave to his every sexual desire.
And finally, that moment has come.
It’s late one evening—a weekday. It can’t be a weekend, because my routine is very irregular. He’s watched the house long enough to know that sometimes my friends show up unannounced. And as much fun as it would be to own two or three girls, there’s only one woman he wants.
No, he doesn’t want me, he needs me.
He lurks beneath my window until I get up and go into the bathroom, at which point he looks at his watch, knowing that he only has twenty minutes to get inside.
Only five is needed, however. Lockpicking is a skill he’s often practiced. The front door opens effortlessly and he’s inside, creeping toward my bedroom, hiding in the shadows of the hallway. He can hear the water running and you know, somewhere in that thick steam, I’m soaping my soft, naked body. Letting the water patter from my face, letting it flow down the curves of my sexy form.
The shower sputters, and goes quiet. The next few minutes are grueling. Through the wall, he can hear the rustling of the towel against my skin, the scrush-scrush as I brush my matted brown hair, the sshhh-sshhh as I brush my teeth.
There’s a silence. He knows I’m dressing for bed. He knows the moment is imminent. He aches for me; the wait is literally painful. Agonizing.
With a click, the door opens. He can’t seem me at first, but he can hear me humming softly. Taking a deep breath, he tenses, and I walk into view. Toward the door, toward the kitchen for my nightly glass of juice.
As soon as I open the door, I see him. My eyes bulge and my mouth opens wide in a silent, startled gasp. There is a masked man in my house, dressed entirely in black, standing in my doorway.
And Evan lunges.
He doesn’t use chloroform. No, he wants to feel me wriggle and writhe, he wants to feel the rush of conquering me. One hand covers my mouth, the other is pressed against my tailbone, pulling me close.
I try to fight back, but my efforts are useless. He’s an expert at tying up pretty girls, but none so pretty as me. That’s his career, kidnapping gorgeous High School cheerleaders and beautiful College co-eds, and selling them to the highest bidder. But not me; for Evan, the price for me is too rich for anyone’s blood.
We fight, but he’s unstoppable. Evan’s giant, rock-hard arms keep me pinned against him. He pushes me over to the bed, keeping his hand over my mouth until he can push my head into the pillow. My hands are pulled behind my back and quickly handcuffed. So are my ankles. Then he rolls me over and pushes a ballgag into my mouth, and blindfolds me with a piece of silk. Just for good measure, he strips my pillow of the case and pulls it over my head and shoulders.
Only then can he stand back and fully enjoy his victory. An undersized pink t-shirt reveals my slim, sexy midriff. Having squeezed my breasts during the struggle—he couldn’t help himself—he knows I’m not wearing a bra. Only a thin pair of plain white cotton panties protects my thighs, and aside from matching socks, I’m naked.
“Oh God,” Evan says, his voice deep and scary, “I’ve waited so long for this.”
I barely hear him over my muffled cries for help. Blind, I’m lifted from the mattress and thrown over the tall man’s shoulder and carried downstairs, and outside, where he has a van hidden at the end of the driveway. I’m dropped inside, and we drive off.
Evan is barely able to focus on the road. His eyes remain on the rearview mirror, watching me wiggle on the floor of the van. He can’t wait to get me all to himself. His palms tingle at the thought of my freshly-soaped flesh.
He isn’t worried about the police. He chose this night specifically because the only cops on-duty are Freemasters like he is.
Halfway there, he pulls over and crawls back with me. I hear him unbuttoning his pants.
“Fuck, I can’t help myself,” he tells me, his hard cock springing free. With a tough, calloused hand he starts to stroke the thick, hot wedge. Straddling my thighs, making me remain on my back, he stars to jerk off.
It takes only seconds. Evan lifts himself so he’s on all fours (all threes, actually, one hand is busy) and explodes all over the pillowcase.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Lindsay…fuck, you’re so sexy…”
Hot splatters of come rain all over the pillowcase and rub against my face. My body twists in an attempt to get out from under him, to no avail. I have to lay there and accept this man’s ejaculation all over me, as humiliating as it might be. His come is contained only to the pillowcase though; he wants to keep me clean and untainted until he gets me all alone.
Evan returns to the wheel. The intermission was only a temporary fix; he’s stiff again by the time he starts the van.
The “permanent” fix is well on its way. The van rumbles forward, and we take off into the night.
2
With his precious captive laying helpless in the van, Evan returns to his lair. It’s an old warehouse he own in the middle of Sussex’s industrial district, long abandoned. We pull inside and the door ratchets shut behind us, echoing in the cavernous room.
The engine dies and Evan rounds the van, pulling me out and carrying me to a mattress on the floor. A sheet keeps my body from touching the semen-stained fabric. Overhead, a wicked-looking hook dangles from a chain.
My heart pounds in my chest. My breath is hot on my face, trapped by the pillowcase. Every square inch of my body glistens with sweat, as though I’ve only just now emerged from the shower.
Evan pulls the case from my head and discards it, admiring the shiny red sphere stifling my pleas and the glimmering silver strip over my eyes. I’m completely helpless to resist him.
“Stand up, beautiful,” he orders sharply, pulling me to my feet. The cuffs are released from my hands only long enough for Evan to pull my hands in front of me and re-shackle them. Then they’re looped over the hook. Before I can free myself, Evan has pressed the ‘up’ button on a nearby control panel, and my arms are pulled tight.
He circles me, admiring my body, and pulls the blindfold from my eyes. Squinting, I look over my unmasked captor.
Evan is tall, dark, and handsome. He’s older than me, but by no means an old man. I’d give him five or six years. Judging by his physique, I can tell he’s no stranger to the gym. No wonder I succumbed so easily to him.
Drool dribbles from the gag onto my shirt but Evan ignores it, actually finds it very sexy. He stands beside me, his leather-gloved hand finding my bum. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, Lindsay,” he whispers into my ear. The heat of his breath on my earlobe gives me goosebumps. He inhales deeply, enjoying the scent of lavender shampoo. “You’re all mine.”
His fingers squeeze and manhandle my ass. Simultaneously, he slides beneath my shirt and helps himself to a handful of my plump, firm breasts. I try to wriggle free of this man’s lustful indulgences, but as I’m on my tip-toes already, trying to escape only causes the handcuffs to bite into my wrists painfully.
Soon, Evan gets rid of the gloves. His hardened palms explore my body as he speaks again.
“I’ve dreamed of this day for so long, Lindsay. Having you here, shackled and helpless. Having your soft, sexy body all to myself.”
There are so many things I want to say, but the ballgag turns my every word to mush. I jump in surprise when his finger worms beneath the band of my panties and he finds my smooth, freshly-shaved pussy.
“You like that, don’t you?” He asks, rubbing me. “You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?”
My eyes are closed. Try as I might, I can’t deny the simple fact that Evan is very sexually appealing. I can’t deny it, either. The hot stickiness on his fingers gives me away. Just as my clit begins to quake, he withdraws and sucks my juices from his fingers. Then he starts again, and again the heat begins to build. Once more, he brings me to the verge, and denies me.
Finally, he lets me come. The pressure has become unbearable by the time I come. I lose myself in the sheer sexual bliss. My legs turn to jelly and eventually refuse to support me.
Evan catches me, though, wrapping me up in a bear hug so I won’t just dangle from my wrists. “Don’t hurt those pretty hands of yours, Lindsay,” he warns, as I breathe heavily and try to regain my composure.
When I look up at him, my expression fearful and maybe even a little aroused, he sets me on my feet again. “You liked that, Lindsay. Don’t even try to deny it.”
I look away from him and close my eyes, my cheeks reddening. A hundred excuses spin through my head: that was an adrenaline-orgasm, it couldn’t be helped. I came because he was touching me, not because I enjoyed it. Actually, I faked the orgasm. But there’s no denying the truth.
“But you’re a naughty girl,” he chides, his hand finding my ass again. He gives it a firm, hard slap. Crack!
I yelp, my ass stinging. Another cruel slap. Crack! And another. Crack! Crack!
He spanks me five times. I wince, waiting for the sixth, but it never comes.
“You can’t orgasm without my permission, Lindsay,” Evan says. Annoyed, I give him a dirty look. Why didn’t he say that in the first place? “…But now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, we can get started.”