Chameleons Private Club Virgin Swingers Part 1
- 3 years ago
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**Author’s Note** Once again- work of amateur fiction, horrible speller, and goes better in sequence (I would assume, you may prefer to skip around and read only the chapters you like). Thanks to all of my friends for suffering through reading this. ???? **
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I walk around the mall, prowling for a job. I’ve been sleeping in the cemetery for a week now, and I’ve only eaten four days out of seven, so I think it’s about time I get some money. I enter the used books store and relax immediately. I browse the aisles, knowing I’m broke but unable to help myself. I make my way to the counter and paste an entirely fake smile in place before looking up.
‘Hello, my pet.’ Nathan whispers. He looks as surprised to see me as I am. I suck up my pride and return to smiling.
‘Are you hiring?’ I ask. It’s actually strange to see him here. I always assumed that he lived in another state, somewhere rugged yet urbane. Like him, basically. So much for that. I don’t know about the rest of Tennessee, but Pigeon Forge is mostly tourist tat. He stares at me for a long moment, so long I think he might never answer. I consider turning and walking back the way I came, or well, a faster route to the door. I don’t want to deal with him. He nods and writes something down on a piece of paper before handing it to me.
‘This good for you?’ he asks. His voice is calm, professional, no hint of strain or lust. For some strange reason that annoys me, although technically I should be grateful. I read over it and have to fight not to squeal. Ten dollars an hour is pretty good for a high school drop out. Even if I didn’t drop out for conventional reasons. I nod, going stoic myself, then hug him spontaneously. He smiles against my neck and sniffs. I washed off, and my clothes are clean, so I know I don’t smell bad. He sighs and lets me pull away. I flinch slightly when he brushes my throat, not because I think he’ll actually hurt me, but because of previous experience. I have a painful moment, remembering what my ex boyfriend said just before he slit my throat, but it passes. They’ve become less frequent, and they don’t last as long, but they’re still debilitating. I look up at Nathan, slightly confused, and remember the other occasional side effect of my little memories- I do something similar to a seizure, except I stop breathing as well as losing what little balance I have. He cradles me gently, seemingly content to hold me. I notice a bit obtusely that my weight doesn’t seem to make much of a difference to him. Of course it is only a hundred pounds or so, but still. I sigh softly and manage a smile.
‘I’m fine.’ I whisper. I don’t tell him to put me down, because I don’t want him to. He’s warm, and he’s safe. He frowns.
‘You quit breathing.’ he says. I nod, since I’m well aware of this fact. He sighs and carries me up a set of stairs I hadn’t previously noticed. He unlocks the door at the top of the stairs and puts me down on the couch.
‘I know you say you are fine, but humor me. Stay here as long as you need.’ he says. I roll my eyes but relax against the cushions. Suddenly I do feel very sleepy. He closes the door behind him after kissing the top of my head gently. I slip into my dreams almost immediately.
They are not, I’m sorry to say, very pleasant. Somewhere in my mind I know this can’t be happening, because it already has, but that doesn’t really help any. I watch, tied in the floor again, as he kills my parents. He then comes toward me, holding that bloody fillet knife. I whimper, a little bit of self preservation kicking in. he just laughs and straddles me, forcing me onto my back. The pain in my hand and ankles is nothing compared to the fear I’m experiencing.
‘Please, you said you loved me.’ I manage. He sighs softly.
‘I still love you, but this is the only way I can be free of you. You brought this on yourself. I told you that you would always belong to me, didn’t I?’ he asks softly. I nod, sobbing freely now. He holds my head by my hair to keep me still and makes a neat slice, from ear to ear. I cough, feeling the pain and my blood leaving. He kisses my lips once before leaving me there to die.
I wake up screaming, as always. I don’t know how I survived. I remember warm hands and more blood, but not my own. I woke up in a hotel room across the state line. Some one saved me. I remember his face, his whispered comments, telling me to be safe, even his name, but it all seems unreal. I remember watching on the news later, about how my body was never found, although I was presumed dead. I still wonder if he knows I’m alive. I roll out of bed, seeking to concentrate on something else. Night has fallen, so several hours have passed. I listen carefully, but no sounds from below. The view from my window shows the entire place to be deserted. I nod and go take a shower, washing off the sweat, and change into my pajamas. It’s about time for me to do laundry again. I walk through the living/bed room and into the kitchen. It’s small, but clean and well equipped. I smile cheerfully and cook dinner for myself. It’s been days since I’ve eaten. With a full stomach I return to the living/bed room and search a little. There’s a small chest of drawers that the television and digital video disc player sit upon. I open the top drawer and find a light blanket, which I spread out on the futon. I go to the next drawer, looking for something to watch, and find a stack of numbered digital video discs. I shrug and put in number one, grabbing the remote as I flop back on the bed. When he pops up on the screen, dressed, along with a buxom, naked, slutty looking blonde, I laugh.
My immediate thought is to turn it off, but then he smiles and pulls his shirt over his head. I stare at his muscular chest, getting wet already. The girl whispers something. He nods, and she crawls forward. I watch her unzip his pants, letting his cock spring free. I lean forward without thinking, my fingers questing under my pants. She begins to suck as I begin to touch myself slowly, thinking about pleasing him like that. He moans softly and picks up a small, thin whip. She jerks every time he hits her back, but continues to suck. I give up on this and just pull my pants and panties off. I dig in my backpack for my bullet vibrator, keeping an eye on the screen. I push the button, but the batteries are dead. Of course. I go to the chest of drawers and open the third one down. It contains, just like I hoped, an interesting array of sex toys. I step back into my panties and choose a remote controlled egg. I drop it in and begin sucking on one of the more realistic dildos. He’s now got her bent over a counter. In fact, I think it might be the counter down in the book store. He continues whipping her, but even I can tell she’s enjoying herself. She has something flexible and bright pink filling both her ass and her pussy while Nathan uses his finger to play with her clit. She speaks up for the first time.
‘Master, yes, please, fuck this whore, punish me, this whore is so sorry.’ she screams. He smiles, but I notice it’s more of a smirk. He quits whipping her and lifts her, putting her pussy to his face and her face to his jutting cock. She sucks enthusiastically, but he does nothing for her that I can see. She sucks for a good ten minutes. I turn the vibe up higher, close to cumming in my panties. He shoves her off, letting her land in the floor, and pumps his cock with his hand a few times before he cums all over her. She keeps her mouth open, licking up as much as possible.
‘You will never cheat on me again.’ he says calmly. She nods, crawling forward to be closer to him. He smirks again and grabs her by the hair, dragging her to the door. It is a book store, but it’s not this one. He shoves her out of the door and locks it behind her. She sobs and pounds the glass while he ignores her before finally disappearing. The screen goes blank and I close my eyes, turning up the vibrator even high. I bite the covers to keep from screaming as I cum. I clean everythi
ng up- wiping off the vibe and the remote, putting them back in their proper places- but keep the panties on. I feel incredibly tired suddenly and curl up under my cover. This time when I don’t remember my dreams.
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A few of the references in this sequel will make more sense if you have read “A Visit From Saint Michael,” but it does stand totally on its own and can be enjoyed even if you have never read the first story. This story centers around non-consensual pain, humiliation and slavery. If such a premise disturbs you, then I would advise you to skip this story. Or you can skim past those sections and read a very interesting tale involving one of the “old gods” of Mexico and much of South...
I have seen this lady a couple of times now, as it turned out, always on the 16th of the month, always at 2:30 in the afternoon. There always seemed to be purpose in her visit. Her visage purposeful.On this summers day, she looked so beautiful in her pink summer calf length frock. I looked at my watch and decided to take my break. Life in the gardens for staff could be hard physical work and for me, a young guy on placement from horticultural college, this was my life. It was all I ever wanted...
MasturbationI woke up to the warm pressure of Sofia’s supple skin pressed against my naked body. Did last night really happen? How could this woman be real? It seemed to good to be true. But, it was true, every glorious moment of it. I lay in bed lingering for a moment, taking in Sofia’s scent, nose nuzzled against her graceful neck. The improbable geometry of her body, the physical manifestation of quadratic functions, created a topographic map comprised of rolling hills and valleys beneath the...
Note: I mentioned in ‘The Next Morning’ that it was part of a longer story. Well, here’s the beginning of that story, drenched in the grief of a man who has lost his wife, who wakes up every morning wondering how to go on and then, one day, wakes up on a private island in the South Pacific. He’s comfortable enough. There is a beautiful beach house fitted out with every known amenity (and some that are still unknown). But the grief stays with him. And then, on the first anniversary of her death,...
When I crawled to Sally, too weak and sick to walk, I suspected my end was near. It felt like life and energy was ebbing out of me. I thought I was dying, so I panicked! Throwing caution to the wind, the hell with the consequences, like someone parched, I sucked life giving fluids from Sally’s pussy, my fountain of life. Immediately, I began to feel better, stronger. My mind cleared. Sally had been gang raped! What was I swallowing? I remember the damp towel now. Sally must have used the...
I need some critical history about Erin before I go on. In high school (two classes), nursing school (three classes), and at her first job (at the lunch table) my wife was exposed to some feminist views that were stronger than the mainstream. All preached the same militant tune: “my body, my choice!” Each of the classes spent at least a month looking at fairy tales, traditional stories, literature and popular current authors to find the “subtle chauvinist themes.” The first example they all...
Hazing To the real Gina-I wish there was a Thomas to make your dreams come true. On behalf of your sisters, we always knew that you were wearing our clothes! Lol In 2016 Major League Baseball banned the hazing practice of having new players wear dresses. This story is about a MLB player and his experience with the hazing ritual. Mike Young was living what many American men would consider the ultimate American dream. He was a starting pitcher for the California Seals, MLB newest...
Ben is a very good friend of mine. We met in scouts when we were younger and became fast friends. As well as all the normal scouting trips, we also would get together during the summers whenever one of our moms was willing to give us a ride across town. Ben went to a private school so weekends and summers were the only times we really had to hang out. Wendy is Ben’s little sister. Wendy was always the cutest little kid. When I first met her she was maybe six years old, and she was always bubbly...