Kneeling on the floor, the lock on m chastity device making a clicking sound as it bounced playfully off my plastic prison device, watching my beautiful wife drift in and out of consciousness as I massaged her feet with lotion I wondered what made men do what they do. And as I contemplated this I realized that it comes down to a moment. A moment is all it ta...
When we came back from Sardinia... well, nothing more happened. I mean, nothing noticeable, for a while. A normal life. Really, nothing despicable, just normal. He worked, I took care of the house. It was not heavy, for me: I had wanted it. Before we arrived in Italy, he had suggested me to find a job, and not as anyone. He had some relatives at the univer...
This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography, which is currently not updating. Stories after Music Box Dancer are: Return To Apple Grove, Media Matters, Swamp Frogs, Man of God. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. This story...
This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions...
I like my little black dress. The way that the fabric wraps around me makes me feel tugged in and secure – snug stretch around my chest and butt. The black hole dark color fresh off the store shelve injects me with confidence – elegant for a social occasion, sultry for a club. The plenty skin of my legs, chest, and arms – je ne sais quo – gives me a sense of...
HARD PASSION: The Chronicles of Erica Bradson. Chapter 2 Guilty Desire. Two weeks passed since my obscene experience with Malik and we had not spoken since. I returned to my duties as a mother and a wife, hoping that my sinful act would be erased by time. The morning is my favourite time of the day, my husband, my two sons and I gather together for breakf...
The funny thing about time is the way it affects the memory, distorts it. I have memories that are only vague recollections. I see them in my mind's eye only in black and white, like a Saturday afternoon matinee on BBC2. Yet all this is fresh in my mind, burned on my soul forever. Ask my peers, and they might give you a different version. Do I care that my m...
Hello, and welcome to the special Winter Carnival issue of Tales from Snippettsville, Short Stories From A Small Town. For any of you who haven't come across us before, and want to know what it's all about, go to Snippettsville Group If you have any feedback, and let's face it, as writers we all love feedback, just click on the author's name, in blue at...
5pm Friday was finally here. Before anyone could dump their last-minute issues on me I quickly shut down my laptop and made my way out of the office. As much as I like my job, I was really looking forward to spending the weekend with my wife, Nicole, as opposed to fixing other people's mistakes. Last weekend we were at the wedding for two of her good friends...
This is a tale of cheating, corporate mischief and a revenge of sorts. A man whose wife took advantage of her husband's absence but paid a price. My thanks to blackrandl1958 for her editing skills, which have made this story a much better read. ***** That damn jacket! If I had not left my jacket at home, things might have been completely different. My eigh...