For your second assignment, craft a scene/chapter/story that involves the following elements.
A crystal punchbowl
A stationery bicycle
A Two dollar bill
Happy writing.
rose
Printable View
For your second assignment, craft a scene/chapter/story that involves the following elements.
A crystal punchbowl
A stationery bicycle
A Two dollar bill
Happy writing.
rose
Note: This story begins where the story from Assignment 1 ended.
Rodger and Tonya walked along the sidewalk toward his apartment building.
“On second thought, perhaps we should do something else today,” Rodger said. “My place is pretty much a mess. I had a small party last night and didn’t feel like straightening up this morning.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve seen messy apartments before. I’ll help pick up, if you want,” she said.
“You might be shocked,” he said.
“I’ll take that chance.” Her voice didn’t reveal the qualms she felt; but she was more curious than cautious.
“I’d like to know a little more about you then,” he said.
“What do you want to know?”
“Are you an extravert or an introvert?”
“A little on the introvert side, I think.”
“Are you daring or timid?”
“Probably somewhere in the middle. I can be audacious at times.”
“Are you dominant or submissive?”
“More toward the submissive end on that one, but I’m not a doormat.”
“That’s nice,” he said. “I am dominant; always have been.”
His apartment was in the same building, but on a higher floor than the one she had seen before. The rooms were larger with more and better-quality furniture. It was evident that there had been a party. Glasses and cups were scattered about, there was still a little punch left in the crystal punchbowl on the side table, and cushions from the couch were on the floor.
“It’s good that you are trying to stay in shape,” She said, nodding at the stationary bicycle across the living room.
“It’s not mine. A friend brought it over for the party and hasn’t picked it up yet.”
“An exercise bicycle for a party?” she was amused and curious. She noticed loose ropes hanging from the peddles and handlebars.
“He wanted to show how his girl could work up a sweat riding it,” he smiled.
“Someone was careless with money,” she said, picking up a two dollar bill from the floor.
“I got a bunch of those from the bank to add novelty to a little betting game. They’re still in circulation, but you rarely see them,” he explained.
“You must have had an interesting party,” she smiled.
“It was. Please sit down, Tonya,” he gestured toward an overstuffed chair.
“I like to be direct,” he said when they were seated. “Does that bother you?”
“It’s usually better than beating around the bush,” she agreed.
“Good. You said you were submissive. May I ask you some questions about it?”
“What kind of questions?” she was hesitant.
“Have you ever been tied up for sex?”
“One time,” she said thinking that he certainly was direct. She felt her face grow warm.
“Did you like it?”
“Yes,” she said softly, certain that her cheeks were glowing red.
“Stand up, Tonya,” he said, picking up a short length of rope that was lying on the floor.
As she stood up, he guided her hands behind her back and tied her wrists together. She didn’t resist until it was done, then she struggled against the rope and found that she could not pull her hands free.
“Don’t be afraid,” his voice was reassuring. “It’s just that I prefer for a woman to be restrained in some way when we talk about her submission.”
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the lips. He just did it; he didn’t ask; he didn’t wait for a signal from her. The tight rope around her wrists had changed their relationship in a subtle, but profound, way. It gave permission in advance for whatever; it was a clear signal that she would not interfere.
“Now, Tonya, how were you tied that one time?” he showed genuine interest.
She looked at the floor. Shouldn’t she be protesting, screaming even, so the neighbors would hear? But she didn’t. She was frightened, but even more, she was excited. She wanted this to continue, at least for a while.
“Wrists tied to the headboard of the bed,” she mumbled, still looking at the floor.
“Is that all?” he sounded incredulous.
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“I think ‘Yes, Sir’ would be better. It’s for you, not me. It symbolizes submission whenever you speak to me,” he explained. “Were your legs tied?”
“No, Sir.”
“Were you gagged?”
“No, Sir.”
“Were you whipped?”
“No, Sir.”
“Were you fucked?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What else happened?”
“He pulled my ankles and spread my legs apart, Sir,” she said.
“Is that all?” he still sounded incredulous. “Was that a big deal for you; having your ankles pulled and your legs spread?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Is that part of your submissive fantasy?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“We can do that, but you need much more,” he said. “Now stand over here, and let’s have a look at you.”
He grasped her shoulders, and guided her to the center of the room. She followed meekly; the “Sir” was working as predicted. It wasn’t just calling him Sir; it was repeating it over and over that reinforced the feeling that he had some extraordinary authority over her.
She kept her eyes on the floor in front of her, unnerved by the intrusive questions, the tight knot in her stomach, and the tight rope around her wrists. Yet deep inside, she wanted it to continue.
“Look at this,” he ordered, patting his crotch. “I want you to keep your eyes here, so you are looking at my cock, your real master.”
She was mortified staring at the bulge in his pants; it felt almost obscene. She wanted to look away, but she did not.
He unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it off her shoulders. He opened her jeans, and pushed them down her legs. He kneeled, took off her shoes and socks, and pulled the jeans over her bare feet. He opened the clasp of her bra, and pulled it up in front of her face.
“You’ll have to duck under here,” he said, “or I’ll have to cut the straps.” She twisted her head as far as she could, and he was able to slip the bra over her head and push it down her arms.
He found another rope on the floor, pressed her blouse and bra down to her wrists, and wrapped the rope around her elbows. Pushing her elbows close together, he wrapped the rope another tight turn, and tied it with a square knot. He untied her wrists, pulled her blouse and bra over her hands, and tossed them away with a flourish.
She felt especially naked, wearing only panties in front of a fully clothed man that she hardly knew; staring at his crotch. The panties had a little lace, but they were not her best. She turned away as she felt his eyes exploring her exposed body.
“Eyes,” he barked.
Self-consciously she turned around and gazed again at his crotch, feeling the new strain in her shoulders from the elbow rope.
“Nice tits,” he said admiringly, pinching a nipple between thumb and forefinger of each hand. “Are they sensitive?”
He smiled as a short squeal and an attempt to twist away answered his question.
“Let’s finish unwrapping the package,” he said, pulling her panties down to her ankles. “Step out of them and kick them away, slave.”
She felt naked and exposed, her feminine modesty blatantly violated; but it was the word, “slave,” that produced the heady sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She moved one leg in front of the other, but the rope around her elbows cruelly frustrated her impulse to cover her breasts.
“Legs apart,” he ordered. “It’s time for a little inspection.”
She wanted to turn her back to the man exploring her naked body, but she forced herself to stare at his crotch as she moved her feet apart. He demanded more until her legs were spread wide. He slid his hand up her thigh.
“Well, well. The little slut is dripping wet down here,” he exclaimed. “She must like having her arms tied and her tits squeezed.” He teased her clitoris with the tip of his finger and her hips moved involuntarily.
“Turn around, slave; bend over and show me your ass.”
She obeyed. He slapped her buttocks hard and said, “Keep those legs spread, slave!”
He moistened his index finger between her labia, and slid it up to her rectum. Twisting with steady pressure he pushed his finger past the tight sphincter; the ultimate invasion of privacy. She whimpered, more from humiliation than from the intense, acrid anal sensations. Her face was hot. She knew it was glowing red.
“Nice and tight. I like that,” he pulled his finger out of her rectum.
“Come along, dear, it’s bed time.” He grasped her upper arm tightly, and she allowed him to lead her into the bedroom.
She recognized the bed immediately; the same one she had seen years ago. It had a black-metal headboard and no footboard; white-nylon rope was tied to each side of the headboard. He stood her by one side of the headboard and tied its rope around her wrist. He unfastened the rope from the other side of the headboard, tied the end around her other wrist, and released her elbows. He pulled the free rope until she was lying in the middle of the bed, on her back, with arms spread wide; he tied the free end of the rope once again to the headboard. As she lay naked, tied to the bed, she had a potent déjà vu feeling of having experienced this before, and, of course, she knew she had.
She felt hands grasp her ankles; she saw Rodger, now naked, standing at the foot of the bed. Holding her feet together, he pulled on her ankles until her arms were tightly stretched and the ropes bit into her wrists. His muscular body mesmerized her with its erect penis, but this time there was no condom. She watched his eyes roam up and down her body, and she could only imagine what she must look like to him -- a naked girl, bound with her arms spread wide, helpless, ready and available. Roger gave her ankles another firm tug then spread her legs wide apart. He held them there for a moment, savoring her exposed pussy, and then he climbed onto the bed between her open legs. He crawled over her body until his knees were at her armpits, one on each side, and he sat back against her breasts. He entwined his fingers in her hair and lifted her head until the bulging head of his penis was at her lips.
“You know what to do, slave!” he said.
She opened her mouth, and he pushed his penis inside. He guided her head with his hands in her hair, thrusting ever more vigorously into her mouth. His labored breathing made her think that he would cum in her mouth, but suddenly he pushed her head away and climbed out of bed.
“Not so fast, slave. You’re not getting off that easy,” he said.
She saw that he had a crop in his hand. It was a thin black rod, almost three feet long, connecting the handle in his hand to a flat black-leather tongue at the tip. He swung the crop back and forth over her body; the swishing sound caused her flesh to quiver all over. He tapped the crop against her breast, using the tip to bring her nipples to attention. She was beginning to enjoy the teasing play on her breasts when, suddenly, the crop came down hard on the underside of her right breast. She squealed and writhed as much as the ropes would allow.
“Do you want to be gagged, slave?” he asked.
As she shook her head forcefully “No,” he said, “Then you’ll have to keep quiet.”
The crop struck her other breast in the same way, and she squirmed, but managed to make no sound. The crop slashed one thigh and then the other in quick succession; and her legs bounced wildly, but she only whimpered quietly.
“Do you want your legs tied, slave?” he asked.
Again she shook her head, “No,” and he said, “Then spread them wide so I can see the tender inner skin.”
She moved her legs apart, and he cropped her inner thighs, but not as hard as before. She squirmed and ground her hips, barely managing to suppress a squeal.
“God, you’re hot!” he said dropping the crop.
He rolled a condom down his penis, and climbed on top of her. The rigid penis, thrusting hard and fast inside of her, was almost more than she could stand following the long, steady buildup of tense passion. She ground her hips against him, struggled against the ropes, and bellowed uncontrollably. He moaned, his body went rigid, and, after a moment, he rolled off of her.
They both lay panting for a while, and he twisted around resting his head on her breast. He slipped a hand under her head, and lifted it so he could see her face.
“Do you like being my slave?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir. Quite a bit,” she replied.
Very nice. I still admire your deft touch with dialogue. Only one minor POV slip, and you might want to brush up on usage of semicolons v. commas. A marvelous continuation of your tale.
Oh, by the way, i am kicking you upstairs to Level II. You have a firm grasp on your creative voice. Aussie Girl will begin the refining and polishing process.
Quote:
Originally Posted by nancy
Thank you, rose, for the kind words and helpful critique. I tried to use more semicolons this time, because you added them to my last story, but I didn't really understand. Now you have made it very clear.
You are a careful reader. I would never have given second thought to the "square knot."
I appreciate being kicked upstairs, but I hope that does not mean losing you.
Thanks again,
nancy
i just posted a link to an article on semicolon usage. The entire site is wonderful, The Perdue Online Writing Lab. One of my favorite pure writing sites to send seekers.
i will follow your progress with great interest.
rose
Well, I just got done reading this second assignment. Aside from the few things Muse pointed out there is little to complain about.
One thing I particularly appreciate about your writing is the clarity. You are relatively efficient in word usage. More so than most authors I read - much more so than I am. Simply put, your writing reads.
The next level will test you a bit more. Your weakness, as you already admitted, lies in character development. I am confident that you will manage to improve in that aspect with relative ease.
Dean
Thank you Dean. You seem almost out of character with such kind words, which makes me appreciate them all the more.
nancy
I am only nice here on level 1.