Copyright
© 2008-2009 Stella and Audra Price, All Rights Reserved

The witch was hot, he had to hand it to her. Of course, Sammael hadn’t come into the house knowing that he’d fuck her, but now it was a distinct possibility. He’d felt her pain lace through the air as Karsten told her about his mate. The poor thing hurt so much that he could taste it on the air. He didn’t reckon it would be sinful to console her, to give her body what it had thought it would get from the Unicorn. Consoling her here on the table wouldn’t be very sinful either, just would prove good planning. If anything, it was the Unicorn’s fault for hurting the poor lamb’s feelings.

The trick would be to get her to consent. Karsten had mentioned she might have an aversion to his nature, although he’d sensed none. Most likely, she was one of those types who always proclaimed themselves pure but deep down just never had the courage to try it nasty. Not that he could force her because he knew she’d enjoy it eventually. He knew how far he could push the game. His mind was constantly on that fence, at least until he could find something that would please Lucifer enough to not want him next to Belial screaming for eternity.

He waited until Karsten was in his room for the night before turning and smiling at Bianca, who had her back to him. The unsettling thing was the Angels’ tears she had. Why anyone would keep such an unsettling item in the house was beyond him. But for a witch, he supposed, it wasn’t all that unusual as Angels’ tears were very rare. It was the opal as well that interested him. Why would she keep one so large? On the table alone was enough to kill most of the Fallen in Hell, or at least seriously mess their day up.

He hadn’t been entirely honest about the true strength of the tears, one doesn’t exactly go about giving people all the ingredients to kill them. The blade would kill Nybras, but not him. The vial of tears would destroy him instantly. It was odd for an immortal that close to true death. It was very surreal to, after so long, come across something so small that would end everything. It wasn’t a very good feeling.
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A Very Cougar Christmas
Copyright
© 2008 Winterheart

The rain was relentless. Not that Vincent cared. He had no reason to go out in it. However, the scene outside his window was damned dreary and depressing. The condo complex he lived in was landscaped to be all woodsy with twisting streams and paths that included little bridges. The huge plate glass window of his spare bedroom/office looked out over the bridge that led to his building. His condo and his neighbor’s shared a path to their combined front deck. On the backside of their building were two identical condos, but they were out of sight and another path led to them.

The rain had been coming down in sheets all day. Now, at three in the afternoon it was almost as dark as night. Still, Vince could see that the complex’s streams were swollen and rushing beneath the bridges, the pathways flooded and muddy. He felt bad for those residents who had to lug something home in this weather. The garages were all pretty far from the condos themselves. It would be easy to slip in the mud and water and drop whatever you were carrying.

As if his thoughts had conjured up a victim, his neighbor came slip-sliding into view. She wore a traditional business type tan raincoat with the hood pulled up to cover her head. Instantly, Vince’s eyes went to her feet, because usually she wore ridiculously high heeled shoes. Today, however, she wore bright red rubber boots that reached her knees. The heels were clutched in her hand along with what looked like a small gift bag. When she stumbled over the bridge, clumsy in the big boots, he saw that the bag wasn’t a holiday bag, but a birthday bag, which was odd since it was Christmas Eve.
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Special Delivery By Tilly Greene
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2008 Tilly Greene

Without a doubt, today was quickly shaping up to be the worst day of her life and it wasn’t over yet.

Susie Porter knew exactly why the train wreck of a day was happening and there was no one to blame but herself. Well, actually it was her curiosity’s fault and the cause of her current problem. If she hadn’t received the package last Saturday, if she hadn’t opened it even though she didn’t order it, if she hadn’t set it up simply to see what it would look like, if she hadn’t been tempted to try it out, she wouldn’t have to ruin a perfectly safe and satisfying flirtation only relationship as she was going to have to do.

If this, if that, if whatever, it was too late for anymore ifs. Her embarrassment level was high and it was about to get even worse.

Taking a deep breath, she braced her hands on the seat and tried again to lift herself off the pink blow up chair, only she couldn’t shift an inch. It didn’t matter she was slick with sweat, her body wasn’t budging from its pleasure-filled location.

The pink chair with a fairly substantial dildo standing from the center of the seat had control of her and that was it. Three hours ago she submitted to its call, stripped down to nothing and gingerly sat down, filling her slit with the wicked plastic prick. Excitement had made her wet and ready to enjoy this new toy, but exhaustive play left her legs quivering and her pussy muscles clenching its trapped faux prick.
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The Whip and the Chair
By Winterheart ©2008
ESN ID 14412-080901-612570-85

Nick Diamond had been painting Ione Alexander for a week before he noticed that there was something different about her. She stood on the dais in his studio, completely nude and totally still. Her face was turned away from him, her long auburn hair spilling over one creamy shoulder and down her back to her waist. He’d been so into his work for the past few days that he had never noticed that she never needed a break.

He paused in mid-brush stroke, as the thought occurred to him. He tilted his dark head to one side, staring at her. She was so still she didn’t even look like she was breathing. He tapped the rounded wooden end of the paintbrush against his full bottom lip. That was very odd.

He set the brush down and stepped away from the canvas. “I’m going to the kitchen. I need a drink,” he told her, keeping his voice normal as his eyes watched her every move. Well, if she’d had a move, that is.

He reached the kitchen doorway, looking back at her once more. Finally, she moved. Her hair rippled as her head turned, and her smoky eyes met his.

“Are you okay, Nick?” Her voice was low, and slightly concerned. “You never drink while you’re working.”
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The Wiz and the Chair
By Winterheart © 2008
ESN ID 40584-080901-322975-11

Drake put his key in the lock then paused when he heard the door behind him open. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his neighbor emerge from his penthouse condo and shut the door behind him. The two of them were the only residents of the top floor of the Manhattan high rise. Considering the kinds of upscale people who lived in their building, it was probably best that they shared a floor since both of them were unconventional and kept odd hours.

Drake’s neighbor, Nick, was an artist, with an artist’s temperament. A couple of times a week, there was a lot of screaming followed by Nick carrying out an armload of pink plastic. Sometimes it was during the week, sometimes on the weekend. Tonight, was a weeknight.

“Hey, Nick. How’s it going?” Drake asked as the tall, lean form of the artist ambled toward the elevator.

Nick’s emerald eyes blinked groggily at Drake. “Eh? Oh! Hey, Drake. What’s doing, mate?”

Drake bit back a grin. Nick sounded either drunk or sleepy or both. The Englishman was dressed in threadbare jeans and a thin tank top that used to be white, but was now stained with what Drake hoped was red paint. Although, knowing Nick’s ability with a whip and his immersion in the BDSM lifestyle, there was every possibility that the red spatter wasn’t paint.
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Under the Moon

by

Helen Hardt

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2008 Helen Hardt

From the heavy shadows of the dense evergreen woods, Julian watched the young woman impale herself on the thick pink phallus. Veiled in the light of the full moon, her skin glowed like fiery opals. Her rosy breasts, full and swollen, bounced as her movements became more rapid.

Beautiful. Her mahogany hair fell in waves around her milky white shoulders, her body covered in a silky sheen of moisture. Her emerald eyes pierced the darkness. God, yes. Absolutely beautiful.

Her crimson lips parted, and, “Ah!” Her voice, but a seductive whisper, carried across the night air to Julian’s ears. The blood flowed through her veins in a heady whoosh. He silently thanked God for his acute senses of sight and hearing. Read the rest of this entry »

Wicked Construction
by:
Robyn Michaels
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2008 Robyn Michaels

Wicked Diary was the topic of conversation at every table in Sensations, the small bistro where Lauren and Josie were enjoying their weekly luncheon. The store that was the subject of so much discussion was located across the parking lot. It had opened a few days earlier and foot traffic was still fairly light. It wasn’t immediately obvious from the exterior of the building that the shop sold sex toys. The front window was nearly opaque with only the store’s name stenciled in lovely indigo gothic letters. The door was made of the same opaque glass with the name etched into it. The brick façade was just like the rest of the strip mall surrounding it. It was all very classy and discreet. While everyone in town might be curious about the store with such a delightfully naughty name, they were extremely cautious about being seen entering the new shop. The small town gossips would have a field day with those individuals brave enough to set foot inside.

“Can you believe that one of those stores opened in Eatonville?” Josie took a bite of her chicken salad sandwich but continued speaking before Lauren had a chance to respond. “I mean, it’s not like they can expect that much business in this little backwater ‘burb after all. Get real. The people in this town are so behind the times, I’d be surprised if most knew what kind of store Wicked Diary really is.”

“I don’t know. We might be surprised at who decides to shop there.” Lauren carefully kept her gaze centered on the bowl of steaming vegetable soup she was stirring, refusing to look at her friend in case she noticed the desires Lauren was hiding. The store with its naughty wares was definitely tempting Lauren to take a walk on the wild side.
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The Were & The Chair

By Winterheart

All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2008 Winterheart.com
ESN: 36412-080506-281258-70

The box was ordinary brown cardboard. The shipping labels were the kind one would normally find on a package. The return address was a company called “Plain Brown Wrapper.” The name made Weylyn instantly suspicious. Anything with a name as innocuous as that, was not what it seemed.

Weylyn shook the box. It made a whooshing sound as the contents slid around inside. He grimaced, as he realized he wasn’t going to know what was inside the box unless he opened it. Taking out a pocket knife, he slit the packing tape carefully, preoccupied with trying to figure out which of the people he had fucked recently had sent him a present. He was confident enough in his abilities as a lover to know that he hadn’t left anyone angry and unsatisfied, so there was no way that this wasn’t a gift.

He put away the pocket knife and peeled back the flaps of cardboard. Lifting out the crinkled brown packing paper, he found a flat cellophane package. The contents were bright neon pink plastic. Weylyn frowned. Pink wasn’t exactly his color, and he couldn’t imagine anyone buying him a pink anything. Upon closer inspection, he decided that it looked like a raft for the pool.

Weylyn pulled the package out and ripped open the cellophane, taking out the hunk of pink plastic. His sensitive werewolf nose crinkled as a strong scent assailed him. Whew! Whatever it was, it stunk to high heaven. Petroleum based products always reeked and his nose was more sensitive than most. Whoever had sent him the gift either hadn’t realized how delicate his nose was, hadn’t really thought about how stinky plastic was, or didn’t care.

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Favorite Chair
By: Jet Mykles
©2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

“There you are!”

Patrick looked up from the toolbox, distracted from his search for his favorite socket wrench. There, in the open front of his workshop stood Linnie, his insane next-door neighbor. Okay, maybe she wasn’t insane, but she was one of those people who wasn’t far from it. She sure was pretty to look at, though, especially when, as currently, she was wearing tight little cut-off shorts and one of those stretchy, shiny tank tops in vivid orange. The tank hugged her gorgeous little breasts just perfectly and the cheerleader legs extending from those shorts had starred in more than one of his late night fantasies.

Tossing back her loose wealth of nearly crimson curls, she hurried toward him, her flip-flops slapping on the cement floor. Her little hands reached out to grab his arm, heedless of the sawdust that coated the hair on his arm. “I need your help.” Her big green eyes were wide with concern.

Unthinking, he grabbed her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

She tugged his arm. “Come with me.”

He hurried after her, so caught up that he barely paused to enjoy the sway of her rounded ass as she led him through the break in the hedges between their houses and into her side door. Evidently, no one else was home, which wasn’t odd for a Saturday afternoon. Her sister, with whom she lived, worked down near the beach and frequently didn’t get home until after sundown on the weekends.

“Linnie, what’s wrong?” he asked as she hurried through the kitchen to the hall and the green carpeted stairs that led up to the bedrooms. Although he’d been in the house many times, he hadn’t ventured into the upper regions of the house for many years. Not since they were kids. That had been no man’s land since he’d hit puberty, a rule laid down by Linnie and Debbie’s father.
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Love Thy Neighbor
Monica Kaye
Copyright © 2008, Monica Kaye, All Rights Reserved

“What the fuck?!?”

Yolie Wilson stop short as she entered her apartment. Her briefcase clattered to the ground as it slipped from her suddenly lifeless fingers as her eyes were riveted to the large pink plastic chair that had somehow taken residence in her home.

She strode over to the massive pink obscenity that sat smack dab in the middle of her neat, impeccably decorated living room. The bright neon color stood out like…well, the big pink cock that stood up at least eight inches from the center of the pink plastic monstrosity. The sight was made even more obscene by the giant pink bow that encircled the head of the fake dick.

Who in the world would send her such a thing? Even before the question was finished, she knew the answer.

Chandra. It had to be. Her cousin delighted in finding ever more inventive ways to embarrass Yolie with each passing birthday. It seemed that for Yolie’s thirtieth birthday, Chandra had decided to go all out.

Yolie snatched at the card dangling from the gaily wrapped penis, careful not to actually make contact with it.

Sure enough, the card read, “Everyone should get laid on their thirtieth birthday. You’re no exception. Love, Chandra.”

“Love Chandra, my ass,” Yolie bit out as she marched over to the phone and punched in her cousin’s number. Her toe beat a rapid staccato on her gleaming hardwood floor as the phone rang. And rang. And rang. The coward wasn’t picking up so she listened with barely restrained impatience as her cousin’s disgustingly cheerful voice filled her ear.

“Hi, you’ve reached Chandra. I’m not available right now. I’m either away from my phone or under some really hot guy. But leave a message and I’ll call you back. Oh, and if this is Yolie, I hope you liked my gift.” Beep.
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ARTIFACTS

Belinda McBride
Copyright ©2008, Belinda McBride All Rights Reserved
Website: http://www.belindamcbride.com/

Museum of Arts and Science

2317, ISCE

“Do you seriously think they’re gonna let you retire?”

Shannon Nelson gave her brightest smile to the ugly little Fedoran waiter as she accepted another glass of sweet Valoran wine. “You’re drinking too much.”

“Shut up, Theresa.”

“I’m just saying, after all the expense the Company invested in you, they aren’t gonna just cut you loose ’cause you’re bored.”

Shannon sauntered across the room, joining a crowd around the display of Old Terran artifacts. She managed to divide her attention between the smug looking Valoran docent and the voice in her head.

“It isn’t boredom, Theresa. It’s burn down. I’ve been at this too long.”

She caught the eye of a handsome lavender Somian and smiled, glancing around for his twin. They always came in pairs, and this pair had been shadowing her all evening. “It’s getting dangerous. I fucked up on the last assignment, if it wasn’t for you, I’d have been caught and ended up rotting in a jail on some bumfuck prison planet.”

She exchanged pleasantries with an attractive Gender Neutral Valoran, who was speculating on the purpose and nature of the white fountain enclosed in a high-security cube. The notes indicated it was an altar to a water deity, and that it had a small room in the ancient Terran domicile dedicated to it.
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Title: A Pink Present for Puppy
Authors: Denise Kendrick and RD Solange
Website: www.slightlyslashy.com

Copyright © 2008 All Rights Reserved

Kane Litten pulled a t-shirt over his bare chest as he made his way down the stairs to the lower level of the house.

Being a stay at home artist had its perks. He could pretty much do his own thing, when and how he wanted. Hence his having taken an hour long nap in the middle of the day for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

Kane strode into the airy kitchen, scratching at one broad shoulder as he took a peek outside the window. The expected snow storm hadn’t started yet, and with any luck it would miss them completely. Not that there was anything wrong with being snowed in, mind you. His lips curled in a secretive smile as he fetched a glass of water. Nothing wrong with that at all.

Though, knowing his lover, Tristan would probably walk to work if he couldn’t drive. Kane rolled his eyes. The gallery where he showed his work was a full half hour’s drive into town, but Tristan could get to work in a minute and a half. In fact, they rented the rambling converted farmhouse they lived in from Tristan’s employer and his wife, known affectionately between them as Professor and Mrs. Professor.

No, snow would probably not keep Tristan from leaving the house, but Kane would have a good time haunting him all the way to the lab.

Tristan had been working too much as it was and with Kane often going into the gallery in the evenings, their sex life had taken a hit. That was why this afternoon was so important. It would be Tristan’s first afternoon off in close to a month. A fact that Kane was going to take full advantage of.
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The Bet

Copyright © 2008 Michelle Hasker
www.michellehasker.com

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Kara looked up at her best friend in shock. She didn’t care if her jaw gaped like the proverbial fish out of water. “This is ridiculous! It’s insane!”

“You lost the bet, and now you have to put up or shut up.”

Kara stared down at the box. It looked innocent enough in the white and pink packaging. Innocent until you looked at the picture and realized there was a dildo sticking straight up out of the center of it.

“I am soooooo not using this!”

“A deal’s a deal.” Nicole crossed her arms. “It was okay for me to have to do it if I’d lost?”

Kara fumbled for the right words and then gave up. “I’ve never used a dildo before in my life! You use them nightly. You can’t expect me to actually use this…this…thing.”

“Oh you will use it all right! And with the witness of my choice!” Nicole’s anger startled Kara.
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Stripping Conventions
by Jade Buchanan

James nervously smoothed a palm down his chest, peering out through the split in the curtain. He hadn’t exactly wanted to come here, but he didn’t have much of a choice. It was his and his sister’s twenty-fifth birthday, and she was bound and determined that they spend it together.

Sure, like going to the male strippers with his twin sister was going to be a ton of fun. He’d rather claw his eyes out. Well, technically, he’d rather be here by himself without his sister, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Unfortunately, no one had thought to tell her that men weren’t allowed in the main room. So instead of being down with his sister and all her girlfriends, James was stuck up here. In a room full of cranky men. Great. He bet none of these guys were gay. Wasn’t it just his luck?

At least the rest of the night had been fun. He’d never really hung out with Cynthia and her friends before, at least not since elementary school. They just had different tastes. James preferred sports so he’d hung out with the jocks in school. Cynthia was really more into arts. She’d played clarinet in the marching band all through high school and the majority of her friends were band geeks. Not that he’d ever say that to her, though. She’d try to beat the hell out of him if he even hinted the word geek.

Hell, at least she’d gone to all his football games in high school. If she hadn’t been forced to be there in order to play at halftime, she’d never have gone.

By the time they reached university, they didn’t exactly fit in with each other’s groups. James was getting his Kinesiology degree, and Cynthia had gone into Economics. Once again, they just gravitated to different areas. James had his own group of friends and Cyn had hers.
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Tropical Heat
By
Michelle M Pillow
www.michellepillow.com
© Copyright Michelle M Pillow, 2005-2008

Website – www.michellepillow.com
Blog – www.michellepillow.com/blog
Newsletter – http://www.michellepillow.com/newsletter/?p=subscribe
Free Story – www.ravenhappyhour.com
Radio Show – http://www.blogtalkradio.com/ravenradio
Myspace- http://www.myspace.com/michellepillow

Warning:
This story is intended for those over 18 years of age. It contains explicit sexual content.

Tropical Heat

Annabelle hated the sunshine of the tropical paradise. She hated the white of the sand, the blue of the ocean, the tan of the flesh on her tour guide. Okay, the tour guide’s flesh didn’t exactly fall into the hate category, but the way he’d been treating her since she and her friends stepped on the boat, did.
This vacation was supposed to be a dream come true. Isn’t that what everyone said about the tropics? Instead, she got a moody tour guide and a best friend who was already drunk and passed out with some local she’d met on the dock. At least, Annabelle liked to think Cheryl was passed out. The man she met was practically a teenager. Cheryl was forty-five. Not, that Annabelle had anything against the age difference. It just seemed that younger men had nothing to offer.
Glancing over at Christian, Mr Tour Guide Extraordinaire, she frowned. It would seem the older guys didn’t have much to offer either. Too bad his cute looks went along with his grumpy personality. The man really shouldn’t be in the tourist industry. Besides, he was the one who offered the trip to them. It wasn’t like they sought him out.
Annabelle crossed her arms over her chest, disappointed that her new bikini was being wasted on Mr Sour Face. He’d barely given her a second glance.
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PRETTY ON PINK

INDIA MASTERS
© 2008 India Masters, All Rights Reserved

Carli Shepard greeted her attorney with a watery smile. Obligatory pleasant greeting completed, he ushered her into the conference room where she took a seat across the table from her soon to be ex-husband, David. With a perfunctory nod, she settled into her chair for the final negotiations that would end their brief five-year marriage.

They’d met in college, both of them struggling to make ends meet while completing their senior year. Carli was clerking for Superior Court Judge, Allen Binder when David contracted with the county to set up a new computer network and design their web page. They’d hit if off immediately and before long were sharing his tiny one bedroom apartment in the east village.

She’d passed the bar her first time out and accepted a position with Collin, Wilkins, and Strand, specializing in entertainment law. She’d moved up quickly in the firm and expected to make partner any time. Of course, working toward partnership had meant sacrifices – long hours in negotiations, travel to the west coast, and parties with shallow, famous people who rarely remembered her name from one phone call to the next.

In the meantime, David’s career had taken off, too, and he soon opened his own networking and web design business. As his business expanded, he’d had to hire several new employees, including Amanda Price, a young, sexy graphic designer who specialized in animation and played around with designing video games. She was pretty, and blond; with a body that could stop traffic on any busy New York street.

She should have seen it coming, Carli told herself over and over again. The long hours she put in at the firm, the business trips, and David’s commitments to his career. Their sex life became predictable and hurried and eventually dwindled to an obligatory once a week just so they could say they did it. Was it any wonder he’d turned to Amanda Price with her blond hair and cheerleader’s body?

“Is Sunday all right with you?” David’s attorney asked her.

Carli looked up, embarrassed at being caught woolgathering. “I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere, what was that?”

David looked at his attorney and rolled his eyes, as if to say her behavior was typical. Which, if she were to be honest, it was. Read the rest of this entry »

A Naughty Secret Santa

Written By: Savannah Chase

Copyright 2007 Savannah Chase

Angel barely sat down at her desk and turned on her computer when a blue message light flickered on the bottom of her screen.

Hot2Trot: Good morning hot stuff…LOL

Hot2Trot was the screen name her friend Holly used whenever they talked on line. She was on the other side of the floor they both worked on.

ShyAngel: Good morning, you know I just sat down at my desk

Hot2Trot: I know that’s why I messaged you so quickly. I was going to call but I can’t.

Hot2Trot: You R never going to believe what I just saw.

ShyAngel:?

Hot2Trot: Erick almost tripped over his own feet in his office when you walked by.

ShyAngel: ?

Hot2Trot: The man was drooling over you, that’s why

ShyAngel: I don’t know what you saw, maybe his shoe was undone or something, but there is NO way it was because of me. No way

Hot2Trot: What? OMG, he was looking at you. The only other person around you at the moment was Dan, and I’m 100% sure he wasn’t drooling over Dan. The man has it for you. BAD!!!

Angel smiled to herself. Her friend had to be wrong, there was no way that he felt anything towards her except respect for an employee. She wasn’t his type.

Erick Craig was the type of man who was usually seen with supermodels on his arm. Not plain Jane bookworms like her.

ShyAngel: U r so wrong……

Hot2Trot: No way, I’m always right and you know it. Ok I got 2 go. I need to catch the coffee cart before it vanishes.

ShyAngel: Talk to you later, and no I’m not wrong

She clicked the little x on her screen to close off the window and continued putting her desk in order. The holiday season was always hectic around here and with Christmas Eve three days away it was going to get a lot crazier. Tons of things had to get done before some went off on their holiday vacation.

She still had to input half the employees hours and make sure to check that she hadn’t missed anything.

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Secret Santa: Naughty or Nice? Seasonal Wishes Series

© 2008 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved

I/R, Contemporary, BDSM elements.

Some material found in this story my considered objectionable to some readers. Adult Content, Adult Language and Light Bondage. The author acknowledges that all copyrights belong to their rightful owners.

Author Note: I am aware that in the beginning of this story I do say that Pepperton is an all girls academy and boys are included in one class, all will be explained in the next story. Please, be patient and understanding.

Prologue

Every year at Pepperton All Girls Academy a tradition was performed. Although the Headmaster called it a joyous occasion, the staff called it Russian Roulette with a Santa’s Hat. Every year, the staff members picked a name out of the hat to take part in the Annual Secret Santa tradition. There was a better chance of picking an enemy’s name rather than a friend’s, and for some odd reason, everyone was saddled with giving the Headmaster a gift as well. When the beginning of December rolled around, everyone tried their best to be either out sick that day or too busy to attend the staff meeting during lunch time. But even those too sick or too busy always got a name whether they wanted it or not.

And then things changed. At the beginning of the school year, not only was the school saddled with a new Headmistress, but a few new staff members as well. It was like a science experiment gone horribly wrong. The Headmaster had not been dismissed; due to his long years in service the board felt he should stay on until the new Headmistress had the hang of things, which would be, as the board determined, at least two years. The Headmaster would take a pay cut, but still be employed. Although silently fuming, he was still happy to have a job. The entire staff watched the two like hawks, waiting for the Headmaster to blow a gasket or Headmistress Jessie McClean to go supernova on him. The two were civil but it was clear they did not like each other. There were bets going that they would be battling it out by the end of the year, and the pool was up to at least $1,000. People had even hoped that the Headmaster would forget the Secret Santa tradition, but alas no such luck. The highlight of the name drawing ceremony was that Jessie McClean would be there, and that made the meeting a must attend for everyone. The faculty watched the new Headmaster and Mistress through out the whole ceremony.

Jessie was a picture of dignity and refinement. Dressed in a cream colored silk blouse with a red silk jacket and matching pencil skirt hugged her ample curves, her legs were encased in shiny knee high black stiletto boots, her long black hair pulled back in a pony tail. Her dark brown eyes lined lightly in black, her full lips a deep berry stain, pearl jewelry and accents finished off her look of class and dignity. Mason Joseph looked like he was smiling as if his life depended on it, in a simple black suit jacket and pants with black oxfords and a black silk shirt. His black hair was liberally sprinkled with gray, giving him a salt and pepper look, his gray eyes taking in the number of staff entering the staff break room, continuing to smile like a loon.

But their story is not why we are here. Let’s look around the room, ah, I see our heroine of this story in the corner of the room, let’s look in on her shall we?

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© 2007 Zenobia Renquist

“Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit!” the crowd in the room chanted.

Kay could barely hear it over her own mind screaming, SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

Henry was a dead man.  He’d invited her to this mixed bachelor party with the promise that she’d have fun.  It was mixed because the couple was two guys.  Rather than having two parties, they had one big one.

Everything started off great-music, laughter, drinking, and fun-until Henry and Trent, the happy couple, opened their bachelor gifts.  One particular gift-a pink blow up chair in the shape of a hand with a thick, long dildo in the middle-had sparked a game of Dare or Consequences.  The person had to do the dare or face the consequences.

In Kay’s case, it was six of one and a half dozen of the other.  She had to either impale herself on the chair-that would be the dare-or go without clothes for the rest of the party-that would be the consequences and the party promised to last for another five hours.

There was no doubt in her mind that the people present would enforce the consequences of a failed dare.  Casey, one of Trent’s transsexual friends, sat in all her…his glory after refusing to do body shots from a female guest’s crotch-minus her underwear.

Casey didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable with his man-made D-cups and generous package on display for the world to see.  Kay knew she wasn’t that nonchalant.  She also knew she didn’t want to sit on a dildo for the viewing pleasure of her companions.  She’d just met some of these people a few hours ago.

Kay called over the shouted encouragement, “How long do I have to sit on it?”

She was actually entertaining it.  But, a little dildo action was better than nudity.  A little birdie told her the night would get wilder before it was over and she didn’t want to be naked when that happened.

“Just yank down your pants and sit on it,” Trent said. Read the rest of this entry »

 Perfect View
Written By: Savannah Chase
Copyright  Savannah Chase 2007, All Rights Reserved
 

It was Friday, and instead of getting ready to go out for the one and only date she’d had in months Hope was at home. Very much alone and dateless. The guy called her twenty minutes ago and cancelled. Reason given was that something came up.  What came up was in the form of another woman, she’d heard her giggle in the background from wherever he was calling from.

Passing by her balcony Hope caught sight of Sawyer standing at his window, he was glancing her way, she was sure of it. He was a guy who lived in the adjacent building. She’d crushed on him from the first time she’d laid eyes on the man as she was walking down the street. It wasn’t until a few days later that she found out that he lived across the street from her.
She’d never built up the nerve to talk to him; they’d only flirted as they passed each other by. A wink here, a coy smile there. Never words, just looks. Looks that spoke for themselves. The last time she saw him was a few days ago. She’d caught him watching her during an intimate moment.

It been so long since she’d had sex with a man, and there was only so much one could go before sexual frustration kicked in. She was very much past that point. So she decided to take matters into her own hands. Literally.  When she caught him watching she didn’t give her discovery away. It was flattering and an even bigger turn on that he was looking at her. There was no embarrassment about the whole thing especially since it was him she was imagining as her body surrendered and screamed in pleasure. Sawyer was her deepest fantasy that she craved, but was afraid to have. Until she built up the courage to do anything about it all she had was herself and her treasure chest full of toys to keep her body satisfied.
Hope was getting ready to change back into her casual clothes when the door bell rang. All the effort she put in to looking extra special, and unfortunately there was nowhere to go. Looking out the peep hole she saw a delivery guy holding a package in one hand and clip board in the other.

“I have a delivery for Hope Denver” he said as she opened the door.
Read the rest of this entry »