Disclaimer: Do not read further if you are under the age of eighteen or are otherwise prohibited by law to view sexually explicit material. All characters engaging in any sexual activity in this story are at least 18 years of age. Do not reprint this work on any other website, or any medium, without express consent from the author (me!). Synopsis: A man a...
A famous psychologist of a later age would declare that there are no accidents. But is it true? Surely on that June evening in 1886, when Miss Julia Bannister's bedroom door was left slightly open as she dressed for dinner, surely that was just an accident. And it was surely an accident that her cousin by marriage, Lewis Wellman, happened to walk down the h...
My name is John. Jenny (my wife) and I had taken several holidays in different U.S. cities enjoying each enormously but his year we decided that a road trip would be more interesting. I’d hired the car from the UK and we decided to drive the loop down the gulf coast of Florida and back up the Atlantic coast. Jenny and I have been married for 20 years and st...
The Nightmare In the first part of our story we saw how Trish visited the derelict Victorian reformatory and was brutally taken by an entity which was horribly real in every sense apart from being invisible. The traumatised young woman flees to her flat and a warm bath where she is introduced to the fact that her attacker has accompanied her home. Feeling...
Rebecca sat up and stretched languorously. "Sara, beautiful Sara. I wish you didn't have to go. I think I could get used to being your sex slave," she said in her husky voice. "You're too headstrong and independent to be anyone's sex slave," I said. "I don't think I have ever felt so totally sated. I could never tire of kissing and licking you all over you...
Miss Gorton's Academy For Young Ladies was situated in Clapton, west of the River Lea on the fringes of East London. It was quite an imposing building – or rather, buildings. Four Georgian houses had been adapted for the purpose, with interior walls knocked down and connecting corridors. There was one front door, reached from the street by two steps, the rem...
Journal of Erin Hollister 9 June, mid-afternoon The train entered the Duchy of Styria, after days of travel from the Dutch coast. Over the day, I have been struck by how different Austria is from my native London. London bustles with activity; Austria, especially rural Styria, is more sedate and relaxed. Perhaps that is what I need, ever since Mother died...
It had happened late in the eighteenth century, in England, at an unexpectedly debauched bacchanale held at the behest of the Prince Regent. I was a poor younger cousin down from Scotland, almost on the shelf at nineteen, but pretty enough to catch the regent's eye, so pretty enough to be asked. After Scotland's restrictions, London was something to get drun...
She was halfway through her senior year, at Radcliffe, when the bottom fell out of the stock market, and the panic that gripped the nation seemed to ripple across campus for days and days. When things finally settled down, Claire, like most people in the country, finally realized just how terrible conditions had become across the land, from the so-called "du...
I am convinced I am losing my mind. My life is an absolute mess. And the worst part is, I still can't get much sleep or at least not good sleep. I always feel tired and sleep-deprived. Malay calls the next morning just as I am about to leave for work. I let it go to voicemail. A text message pops up as I am in the subway. - We really need to talk. I am wor...