Writer's Journal: The plan this week is first to finish editing The Adjusters #21 for posting at the end of the week, and second to finish up a draft of #23. I did finally figure out the sex scene for #23—thanks to everyone that voiced a suggestion, some of which I've slated into others episodes—and I think it will be an interesting one too. At least I'm excited about it, the way it plays in my head. We'll see what happens when it hits the keyboard. I've also managed to nail a plot point in that scene, one that I didn't even realize needed nailing. I love when writing comes easy. It compensates somewhat for the times when it's like passing a kidney stone.
I've been thinking about formats for the last few weeks. That's my way of procrastinating while still doing something that my minds can fool itself into thinking is actually productive. But I suspect I've lost any sort of objectivity on the topic, so your opinion will be helpful.
I used to post my stories both in text and in HTML on my ASSTR repository. That used to be a pain, for several reasons at the time, and I dropped the HTML, partly because my stories often end up archived on the EMCSA, which takes care of the HTML conversion.
Lately, though, I've been reminded of the limitations of the text format: no italics, which I like for internal dialog and foreign words, and the UTF-8 support on ASSTR seems inexistent, so I cannot get typographer quotes and real em-dashes. Minor things, maybe, but in the long run they grate.
All that to say, I've been thinking of maybe dumping the pure text files and posting the stories as HTML. Can any of you see any reason why that's no a good idea? (I'm serious—I'm more than open to the possibility that there's something obvious I missed, like text files being easier for text-to-speech conversion for impaired readers, etc.) If you don't feel comfortable leaving a comment, feel free to email me—the About tab has my contact information.
Preparing files in HTML has the additional advantage that going from HTML (actually, XHTML, but let's not geek out too much) to a format like ePub is nearly trivial, and once we have an ePub format it is a simple matter to get something readable on a Kindle too. So my other question: is there any interest out there from readers for having a version of the stories (say, the various books of The Adjusters) as e-books? Of course, I could also just start an account on StoriesOnline and post my stories there as well, which would take care of the production of e-books automatically. Either way, whether there is a demand for it will help me decide whether it is worth exploring.
Finally, what about other formats? Anything you would want to see? PDF is an obvious one, although really only if you're going to be printing the stories out, and I guess the iPad (say) can display PDFs pretty nicely.
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Let me know.
I'll leave you with a story that I read a while back and that I was reminded recently existed (and was disappointed to learn had not been completed... ah well). It's WhoreMaker, by Alei: “Strange things happen to Maryanne when she unpacks an unfamiliar box. Can she save herself before her life crumbles around her? Or are she and those around her doomed to be corrupted by the power of the Whoremaker.” I love the idea underlying the story, and I love the internal dialogue. It's delightfully twisted, and makes me wish I could play with similar ideas at some point...
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
New Story: Go Where The Arid Winds Blow
Last month, I wrote a short story for a contest on MC Forum, “Go Where The Arid Winds Blow”, on the theme of mind control in the desert. It is now up on the EMCSA.
Lord Barnaby leads an archeological dig in the Syrian desert, trying to find the long lost temple of Sik-Ladi, an ancient fertility goddess. Before too long, strange events take over the expedition’s camp.
As usual, comments welcome.
Go Where The Arid Winds Blow
I had to leave. It has nearly broken my heart and torn my soul apart, but
I had no choice. No choice at all. But I will be back. I promised Helena I
would be back. I promised. And she will wait for me, for she loves me,
as I love her.
I am feeling the madness fading in the background. It is still there, lingering,
but this gives me hope, overwhelming hope, soul-stirring hope. I am more
elated than I have any right to be: I am alone in the Syrian desert, on my way
to Damascus, exhausted from the last four days’ ride, and yet part of me
wants to laugh and sing and dance, for the madness is fading...
Continue reading...
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Time Travel Stories
Writer's Journal: I thought I was drafting The Adjusters #25 these days, but it turns out I'm drafting #26, and I'll need to go back and do both #24 and #25 next. At least, I know what the sex scene for #26 is—or at least I thought I did, since it is morphing just as I'm writing it. Funny how that goes.
Real life has kept me busy this week, so I do not have a lot to talk about.
Still, I can give it the old college try. (Weird expression, that one, by the way—as if college was the first place where you get to try to do something even though you don't really know how to do it—sounds like much of my grade school experience, frankly.)
A week ago, I mentioned one of my favorite classic story on StoriesOnline, namely Al Steiner's Doing it All Over: "Have you ever wished you could go back to your teens and re-live your life, knowing what you know now? Bill Stevens, a burned-out, 31 year old paramedic, made such a wish one night. Only his came true." As I said then, this is a wonderful romantic story, with real characters and a fairly realistic treatment, after one gets over the fantastic opening element. Al Steiner is a wonderful writer.
The funny thing is that this last week, I remembered that there was another story with that general theme, that of going back in time and reliving your life, using what you've learned the first time around to avoid the mistakes you did the first time around and make your life so much better. I have to admit it's a rather irresistible fantasy, one that probably every one of us has had at some point or another in our life, generally when reflecting back over the one that got away, or just wondering about those doors that we closed while choosing—wisely or not—to open others.
And thus (cue-in Ira Glass's voice in your ear for maximum freakiness) I present you two other stories on that theme.
Rlfj gives us A Fresh Start: "Aladdin's Lamp sends me back to my teenage years. Will I make the same mistakes, or new ones, and can I reclaim my life?" This one is a bit of a tougher sell for me, but you may like it. Give it a try. The biggest sticking point I have is that the hero is a bit too together when he goes back in time. On the other hand, he does deliver quite a few bits of revenge that will have any reader that has ever been bullied cheering in the stands.
The second story I have not read yet. I ran across it last night, bookmarked it, and will enjoy it (or not!) leisurely in the coming weeks—probably sending it over to the Kindle, which I've been sorely neglecting lately, poor girl. It's by Coaster2, and is called Repeat Performance: "Lee North suffers a fifty year setback after an accident. Fifty years into his past, he's having to start his life over again. It wasn't going to turn out the way it did the first time." Coaster2 seems to have a bunch of other stories that look interesting, so I'm hoping I've just discovered an author I enjoy.
Any other stories on the going-back-in-time-to-relive-one's-life theme that I've missed and that you'd like to suggest? Please do so in the comments below. I'm always on the lookout for good hot stories.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
My Weekend Reading
Writer's Journal: Slow week, as I was on the road this weekend. Currently drafting The Adjusters #25, even though I don't really have #23 and only parts of #24 written. But that's where the inspiration is drawing me, so who am I to argue?
A couple of stories have caught my eyes this last week, both on Storiesonline.
Written by POL, we have Of Drugs, Blackmail, and Seduction: "For monetary profit, an unscrupulous man uses any means to seduce and then sexually use the wife and daughter of a decent man." A nicely structured story, with a beginning, middle, and end, and a clear narrative line. And the blackmail in the story is somewhat more thought out than typical: none of that neighbor-finds-incriminating-evidence-and-turns-girl-into-a-slut clichés—not that there's anything wrong with clichés though if the resulting story's hot, in my somewhat myopic opinion!—but an actual plan to get a woman and have one's way with her.
Written by JRyter, we have The Apartment Manager: "Ethan Walker is hired to manage a multi-complex apartment group. His first day on the job, he discovers a secret surveilance system that not only spies on the tenants of all 240 apartments, all their activities are digitally recorded. Ethan becomes addicted to voyeurism. He's attracted to the woman who hired him and soon learns he's not alone in his desire to spy on others." A promising on-going story (currently two chapters out), one that I'm looking forward to see where it goes.
That's what I got for you. Anything interesting you've run across? Feel free to share below in the comments.
A couple of stories have caught my eyes this last week, both on Storiesonline.
Written by POL, we have Of Drugs, Blackmail, and Seduction: "For monetary profit, an unscrupulous man uses any means to seduce and then sexually use the wife and daughter of a decent man." A nicely structured story, with a beginning, middle, and end, and a clear narrative line. And the blackmail in the story is somewhat more thought out than typical: none of that neighbor-finds-incriminating-evidence-and-turns-girl-into-a-slut clichés—not that there's anything wrong with clichés though if the resulting story's hot, in my somewhat myopic opinion!—but an actual plan to get a woman and have one's way with her.
Written by JRyter, we have The Apartment Manager: "Ethan Walker is hired to manage a multi-complex apartment group. His first day on the job, he discovers a secret surveilance system that not only spies on the tenants of all 240 apartments, all their activities are digitally recorded. Ethan becomes addicted to voyeurism. He's attracted to the woman who hired him and soon learns he's not alone in his desire to spy on others." A promising on-going story (currently two chapters out), one that I'm looking forward to see where it goes.
That's what I got for you. Anything interesting you've run across? Feel free to share below in the comments.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Smut on my eReader
Writer's journal: Now that the A Day in the Life series of episodes for The Adjusters is over, time to start the last lap to the finish for Book II. I spent the last couple of days revising and nailing down the structure of the upcoming episodes—I almost, almost, had to resort to the good old index-cards technique to work out what that structure should look like—and I'm glad that the drafts for #21–23 that I have are essentially okay. Except that #23 becomes #25, and needs to have a couple of scenes rewritten in it. A pain, but not altogether surprising. Had I not written those drafts, I would have had no hope of figuring out what the right structure looks like. (In case you're wondering why I don't post episodes faster, there you have it: drafts need to ripen. And for those that think that I take my smut too seriously—what's your point exactly...? <grin>) The one worrying thing is that I need to come up with a sex scene in my new draft of #23, and to be honest, I have no idea who should get it on with whom. And I do want to have at least one sex scene by episode. That's one of the constraints that I've imposed on myself. Any suggestions?
Earlier this year, I received a Kindle as a gift. I had been meaning to try out an ereader for a while now, and despite my initial get-off-my-lawn knee jerk reaction at anything new that threatens to kick my established habits in the balls, I have to admit that it's a nice little gadget, and physically an attractive and comfortable device.
After playing with it a bit, I decided to get serious. I did the first obvious thing one does with an ereader—I raided Project Gutenberg. After getting my fill of Arthur Conan Doyle and Edgar Rice Burroughs, and finally reading H. Beam Piper's Little Fuzzy, I did what everybody and their mother seems to do and downloaded a copy of Tolstoy's War and Peace. We'll see what happens. I like Dostoyevsky, but have never been able to wrap my head around Tolstoy. I'm curious whether I'll stick with it this time around.
Then I did the second obvious thing one does with an ereader—I investigated smut in the Kindle store!
I downloaded two ebooks that I had heard about, and that had caught my eye: J. W. McKenna's Office Slave, and N. T. Morley The Embezzler. McKenna is an unknown quantity for me, but I liked the sample chapter I read. Morley I know from his short stories that have appeared here and there, and I love how he writes. Both are just up my alley—in the absence of good mind control tales, a good blackmail story always satisfies. I'll let you know what I think of those books.
If you have any recommendations for smut I must check out in the Kindle store, please post it in a comment.
One thing I like about the site StoriesOnline is that they supply ePub version of their stories. So I've been re-reading some of my favorite classics hosted there, stories I hadn't read in a long time. Here are two, both by Al Steiner, a very gifted writer that many of you undoubtedly know. First off, A Correct Destiny: "Ken and Meghan are a happily married couple going about their lives. And then along came Josephine, an enigmatic, strangely alluring woman who is not quite what she seems to be." Second off, Doing it All Over: "Have you ever wished you could go back to your teens and re-live your life, knowing what you know now? Bill Stevens, a burned-out, 31 year old paramedic, made such a wish one night. Only his came true." Both very hot, both very romantic, and both stories you should read.
Now, the Kindle doesn't read ePub, but there are a few conversion tools. I use Calibre, which has a command-line tool that makes conversion between formats nearly trivial. (Actually, I just noticed, preparing this post, that Storiesonline now has support for a Kindle-compatible format. Ah. I'll have to try it.)
I'm really curious to see what I'll do with that device as time goes by. Right now, it still has a high gadget factor for me. But I've been using it less and less on a daily basis for the past month. At home, I still prefer the reading experience of an actual physical book (the font is usually much better, and I prefer my text black on white). I admit that the Kindle is remarkably convenient when I'm on the road, as it sure beats lugging around a pile of books.
I'll leave you with a recent article by Lev Grossman that appeared in the NY Times, From Scroll to Screen, which gives an interesting historical perspective on the tradeoffs between physical books and electronic books. Worth a read.
Earlier this year, I received a Kindle as a gift. I had been meaning to try out an ereader for a while now, and despite my initial get-off-my-lawn knee jerk reaction at anything new that threatens to kick my established habits in the balls, I have to admit that it's a nice little gadget, and physically an attractive and comfortable device.
After playing with it a bit, I decided to get serious. I did the first obvious thing one does with an ereader—I raided Project Gutenberg. After getting my fill of Arthur Conan Doyle and Edgar Rice Burroughs, and finally reading H. Beam Piper's Little Fuzzy, I did what everybody and their mother seems to do and downloaded a copy of Tolstoy's War and Peace. We'll see what happens. I like Dostoyevsky, but have never been able to wrap my head around Tolstoy. I'm curious whether I'll stick with it this time around.
Then I did the second obvious thing one does with an ereader—I investigated smut in the Kindle store!
I downloaded two ebooks that I had heard about, and that had caught my eye: J. W. McKenna's Office Slave, and N. T. Morley The Embezzler. McKenna is an unknown quantity for me, but I liked the sample chapter I read. Morley I know from his short stories that have appeared here and there, and I love how he writes. Both are just up my alley—in the absence of good mind control tales, a good blackmail story always satisfies. I'll let you know what I think of those books.
If you have any recommendations for smut I must check out in the Kindle store, please post it in a comment.
One thing I like about the site StoriesOnline is that they supply ePub version of their stories. So I've been re-reading some of my favorite classics hosted there, stories I hadn't read in a long time. Here are two, both by Al Steiner, a very gifted writer that many of you undoubtedly know. First off, A Correct Destiny: "Ken and Meghan are a happily married couple going about their lives. And then along came Josephine, an enigmatic, strangely alluring woman who is not quite what she seems to be." Second off, Doing it All Over: "Have you ever wished you could go back to your teens and re-live your life, knowing what you know now? Bill Stevens, a burned-out, 31 year old paramedic, made such a wish one night. Only his came true." Both very hot, both very romantic, and both stories you should read.
Now, the Kindle doesn't read ePub, but there are a few conversion tools. I use Calibre, which has a command-line tool that makes conversion between formats nearly trivial. (Actually, I just noticed, preparing this post, that Storiesonline now has support for a Kindle-compatible format. Ah. I'll have to try it.)
I'm really curious to see what I'll do with that device as time goes by. Right now, it still has a high gadget factor for me. But I've been using it less and less on a daily basis for the past month. At home, I still prefer the reading experience of an actual physical book (the font is usually much better, and I prefer my text black on white). I admit that the Kindle is remarkably convenient when I'm on the road, as it sure beats lugging around a pile of books.
I'll leave you with a recent article by Lev Grossman that appeared in the NY Times, From Scroll to Screen, which gives an interesting historical perspective on the tradeoffs between physical books and electronic books. Worth a read.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
New Story: The Adjusters #20
ASSTR seems to be back online, so here is September's episode of The Adjusters, "A Day in the Life (III)", wherein we follow our last Delta Iota Kappa girl on a typical day.
As usual, comments welcome.
I'll also remind you that we have a Speculation Thread available for discussion. (A thread which I read but do not comment on.)
20 - A Day in the Life (III)
Lying in the sun on this relatively isolated beach near St John's, in
the Virgin Islands, Jennifer Hansen was not only enjoying the warmth
on her skin, but mainly the feeling of being herself, alone, free--if
only temporarily. Biff had gone to get some drinks, and this time he
had not left her any instructions aside from staying put and not to
hide her body. All in all, this was a rather minor set of
instructions. And so she was left to savor the pleasures of this
idyllic area of the Caribbeans, her very own gilded prison
She spotted from the corner of her eye a group of older teenage boys
walking past the towel she was lying on, local black kids judging from
their clothes and general demeanor, and saw them openly stare at
her. And why would they not? she reflected bitterly--I look amazing,
my body's taken to the sun like a fish to water, and this micro-bikini
hides absolutely nothing. When she felt their eyes on her, she could
not help the thrill of arousal shooting straight to her crotch, and
her body reacted automatically ever since--before she could complete
the thought, her nipples tightened, her thighs clenched, and her pussy
started juicing up. Here we go again.
The boys whistled as they walked past her. "Nice tits, babe!"--"Want
me to rub some lotion on you? I got great hands!"--"You fuck as good
as look?" Nothing terribly original, nothing she had not heard a
thousand times already since they had landed on this goddamned island
already a month ago.
Continue reading...
Next month, episode 21: "Happy Birthday".
As usual, comments welcome.
I'll also remind you that we have a Speculation Thread available for discussion. (A thread which I read but do not comment on.)
20 - A Day in the Life (III)
Lying in the sun on this relatively isolated beach near St John's, in
the Virgin Islands, Jennifer Hansen was not only enjoying the warmth
on her skin, but mainly the feeling of being herself, alone, free--if
only temporarily. Biff had gone to get some drinks, and this time he
had not left her any instructions aside from staying put and not to
hide her body. All in all, this was a rather minor set of
instructions. And so she was left to savor the pleasures of this
idyllic area of the Caribbeans, her very own gilded prison
She spotted from the corner of her eye a group of older teenage boys
walking past the towel she was lying on, local black kids judging from
their clothes and general demeanor, and saw them openly stare at
her. And why would they not? she reflected bitterly--I look amazing,
my body's taken to the sun like a fish to water, and this micro-bikini
hides absolutely nothing. When she felt their eyes on her, she could
not help the thrill of arousal shooting straight to her crotch, and
her body reacted automatically ever since--before she could complete
the thought, her nipples tightened, her thighs clenched, and her pussy
started juicing up. Here we go again.
The boys whistled as they walked past her. "Nice tits, babe!"--"Want
me to rub some lotion on you? I got great hands!"--"You fuck as good
as look?" Nothing terribly original, nothing she had not heard a
thousand times already since they had landed on this goddamned island
already a month ago.
Continue reading...
Next month, episode 21: "Happy Birthday".
Friday, September 2, 2011
Teaser for The Adjusters #20
Of course, this is the weekend that ASSTR—where I post my stories—has its annual downtime. As per the email I received yesterday:
But then the lady doth protest too much, because to be honest I still need some time to edit the second half of The Adjusters #20 to my satisfaction. It's a massive 15000+ words monster that has resisted all my attempts at splitting it in two.
Because I do not want a revolt, and to carry you over, I am posting the first part of the episode here and now. The full episode will be up when ASSTR comes back online, by which time the final editing pass will be done. Thanks for your patience!
Lying in the sun on this relatively isolated beach near St John's, in
the Virgin Islands, Jennifer Hansen was not only enjoying the warmth
on her skin, but mainly the feeling of being herself, alone, free--if
only temporarily. Biff had gone to get some drinks, and this time he
had not left her any instructions aside from staying put and not to
hide her body. All in all, this was a rather minor set of
instructions. And so she was left to savor the pleasures of this
idyllic area of the Caribbeans, her very own gilded prison
She spotted from the corner of her eye a group of older teenage boys
walking past the towel she was lying on, local black kids judging from
their clothes and general demeanor, and saw them openly stare at
her. And why would they not? she reflected bitterly--I look amazing,
my body's taken to the sun like a fish to water, and this micro-bikini
hides absolutely nothing. When she felt their eyes on her, she could
not help the thrill of arousal shooting straight to her crotch, and
her body reacted automatically ever since--before she could complete
the thought, her nipples tightened, her thighs clenched, and her pussy
started juicing up. Here we go again.
The boys whistled as they walked past her. "Nice tits, babe!"--"Want
me to rub some lotion on you? I got great hands!"--"You fuck as good
as look?" Nothing terribly original, nothing she had not heard a
thousand times already since they had landed on this goddamned island
already a month ago.
She felt no compulsion to respond to their prompts--Biff had made
sure that her body would react to people looking at her, but
mercifully did not force her to engage in conversation automatically
anymore--and she was grateful that they did not actually stop to
pester her. They kept walking and admiring her body, their gaze
lingering on her breasts, barely covered by two small triangular
patches over her nipples, before traveling down to her taut stomach
and then to her crotch, also barely covered by a triangular patch
even smaller than those over her nipples, and then down her long
naked legs. Biff wanted her on display. She was insanely thankful
that he was not there right then, as he would almost certainly have
made her put on a show of some sort for those boys.
Biff. She could feel her body tense and her teeth clench. What had he
done to her? That question was still going round and round in her
head, like an earworm of which she could not rid herself. In those
rare instances when he let her speak freely, she had asked him--okay,
screamed at him--and he had always merely replied that it was magic
and that he had used his amazing mesmerizing powers, all of that said
with his most sufficient smile.
She had had a lot of time to reconstruct the sequence of events that
led her to her current situation, but she was missing a lot, and it
was not even clear that knowing what had happened was helpful. It
started with Biff cornering her after one of her classes back in
January, and he must have drugged her because everything was a blur
after that, a blur in which images flashed in and out--lab equipment,
Biff, a bespectacled young man she would later learned was called
Bernie, other images that she could not identify. And then the
memories of what she caught herself calling her disconnected
life--obeying whatever Biff told her to do, her consciousness a silent
passenger in her own body, a witness to the events of her life, unable
to affect them. When Biff had showed up at her apartment and ordered
her to give him head. When he had called her after class the next day
and told her to dress sexy and go meet him and he had taken her for
the first time, while he recorded everything, and afterwards when
Bernie had shown up and injected her with something and everything
became a blur again. When they skipping from cheap motel to cheap
motel, finally ending up in that abandoned farm house. Until this trip
to the Caribbeans, that had seemed to so anger Biff. Memories. She had
screamed herself hoarse there at the beginning--in a manner of
speaking, of course, since she was trapped inside her own head. But
not anymore. She was tired of screaming. It did not work. Nothing
did. She was a toy for Biff, a life-sized doll for him to play with.
And play with her he did.
It had been nonstop since that first day, over and over again. She
shivered internally just thinking about it all. He did not seem to get
tired of taking her. Wherever they were, whomever was around, he would
slip his dick between her legs and take her, hard and fast. He loved
her mouth, spending many hours just sitting back and watching her bob
her head up and down on his dick until she felt her jaw would fall
off. And he had a special spot for her ass, which he had fucked for
the first time after a week of preparation. Plucking her anal cherry,
he still called it. Bastard.
Two months of sexual slavery. There was no other word for it. She
hated it, hated it all, which made it all the more worse. Because Biff
had made sure that her body would be exquisitly sensitive to any sort
of stimulation, even just being looked at. Just the thought of
someone's hands running down her sides to her hips was enough to make
her pussy tingle in anticipation. And when a dick slid inside
her--Jesus, it felt like nothing else in the world! She hated what she
was doing, what she had no choice of doing, but at the same time, she
was at the receiving end of pleasure unlike any she had ever felt
before. Her body was betraying her, over and over again. Is that how
you go insane? she wondered.
Had she, in fact, gone insane? Was that the explanation? Was this all
a supremely complex hallucination her sick brain was conjuring up?
That thought was almost comforting. A vision of herself in an insane
asylum--in a corner of a fully padded room, drooling all over herself,
arms tied in a straight jacket to keep her from frigging herself to
death--flashed in her mind, and even that image made her pussy juice
up. Another wonderful gift from Biff, who thought it was a hoot to get
her body to react with arousal whenever she felt humiliated.
At the periphery of her perception, she felt the teenage boys moving
away, turning their heads to look at her and let their eyes crawl over
her exposed body one last time.
One last time. Daniel. Oh God, Daniel! Stop it, she chided
herself. Don't go there. But she did. She flashed back to that one
last time she had seen her fiance, fast asleep in their bed and
hugging her pillow. He had looked so peaceful, untroubled by anything,
almost innocent. She had wanted to shake him awake, beg him to run
away with her, run far, far, away from Biff and his friends. But she
did not. She could not. Biff's instructions had been to act normal
until he contacted her again, and so she had merely kissed Daniel
lightly on the forehead, left him a short note to thank him for what
she feared was their last night together and to tell him that she was
thinking of renting a movie for the evening. And then she had gone to
class. And then Biff had snatched her away. "Dress sexy, doll" Biff
had told her, "and come meet me at this address." And she had done
it. She had gone back home to pick up her sexiest yet classy
outfit--her favorite dress shirt with that short black skirt that she
had worn at her prom and had made her date almost spill his drink--and
she had had one last look around, scared beyond measure that she would
not be allowed to return, that Biff would keep her to himself,
unwilling to let her go, and unable to do anything about it. She had
felt so alone, would have given anything for a chance to feel Daniel's
arms around her telling her everything would be all right. But that
kind of succor had not been available--it rarely was, she had
discovered early in life--and she was now indeed alone.
All the more so because who knew what Daniel thought of her at this
moment? As far as he knew, she had dumped him to go frolic with
Biff. The fact that on their last night together, following Biff's
instructions to fuck him as well as she knew how, she had seduced her
fiance by telling him a story featuring Biff must have felt like
twisting the knife in the wound. Never mind that she had been trying
to tell him what had happened to her, within the leeway of the
instructions that Biff had given her--Daniel had not picked up on the
clues. And why should he have, she despaired, it's not like I was
behaving much different than usual. And clearly, he had seemed to
enjoy it.
Oh, Daniel had searched for her at first, she was sure of it. That may
even have been the reason why Biff had had them leave town so
fast. And there had been that sleazy-looking private investigator on
their tail, too. But of course, Biff had been unable to resist the
temptation and had sent her off to seduce the man, telling her to
offer him her best blow job, and also to give him her engagement ring
and a message for Daniel, namely that it was all over between
them. Between that and the video clips of her fucking with enthusiasm
and eagerness and imagination that Biff recorded and that he said he
regularly emailed to Daniel--he had this sick kick of wanting to
torture Daniel by showing him how much of a slut his fiancee could be
for other men, like the first time Biff claimed her ass, her first
threesome with another girl, her first gangbang--and the emails that
he forced her to write to Daniel recounting her adventures--porn, pure
and simple, with me as the star, she thought--well, she could
understand that Daniel might want nothing else to do with her, might
want to just forget about her, thinking of her as a cheating
bitch. How could she blame him? She could not hope that he trusted her
enough to know that she was not doing any of it of her own free
will. After all, even she did not understand what was happening. Were
Daniel right before her, she would not know even where to start
explain what was going on. And that's assuming that Biff would let me
talk freely--she shivered at what Biff could make her do or say were
she to see Daniel again. Perhaps it was all for the best that she was
so far from him.
"So did those boys check you out good, doll?" Biff's voice, always
faintly mocking, boomed from behind her. His shadow crept over
her. "Beause I gotta tell you, the view's damn nice from up here."
She looked up over her sunglasses at the upside-down hulking
figure. He was holding two large glasses filled with multicolored
liquid in swirling patterns. He was wearing a tee shirt and bermuda
shorts, the typical American student on an island party binge
outfit. Here we go again, she moaned inside, realizing that she had
hoped without hope that he would take longer to do what he did.
"They did, big guy," she said, unable to control her words or her tone
of voice, low and sultry. In her mind, she pictured it as a thick
veneer over her personality, one that she had absolutely no control
over, making her act as a nymphomaniac girlfriend--all per Biff's
instructions, of course. It was still her, anyone could head, anyone
could tell, but she was not driving. Even though she had been living
like this for weeks now, it remained disconcerting and scary as all
hell. "Jennie could see them stare at her big titties, wanting to grab
them and press into them hard, you know, the way you like to do it?
But they just walked away." She managed to sound disappointed.
Bill grinned, and dropped down next to her. He handed her one of the
glasses. The concoction tasted like someone had poured out a bottle of
rum, and added some fruit juice as an afterthought to give it
color. Yet, she drank it, propped on one elbow.
"Sorry you didn't get to feel their hands on you, doll. I know how you
like strangers groping you. I bet you're all wet now, ain't you? My
little beach slut..."
Jenn felt her hand move to her crotch and push aside the tiny triangle
covering her slit and run a finger through it. She moaned softly, her
hips shifting up with the motion. She did not fight her body--that
never worked anyways--and she was rewarded by a lance of pleasure
stabbing through her clit. She pulled her finger out and brought it to
her lips, letting it hover teasingly. "You're absolutely right, big
guy. Jennie is dripping wet, as you can see." she said, sliding her
wet finger through her lips and sucking on it, her eyes in Biff's
eyes. "Jennie is all ready for you. Would you like to fuck Jennie? You
could give those boys a little show. Show them what they're missing
out on?" Please don't, she pleaded internally. Not out here. Take me
back to our room if you're gonna have me.
Biff let his eyes travel down her body, and he licked his lips. Jenn
felt her nipples tighten in response, and she knew full well that Biff
had noticed, because he grinned widely. But rather than proceed with
fondling her, as she was expecting, he leaned back and stared in the
distance where the teenage boys were kicking a soccer ball around,
drinking beer. He grinned again.
"A tempting offer, doll, but I have another idea. It's been a while we
haven't recorded a little something for your ex-fiance, hasn't it? I
think I know exactly what would make for a great movie." He paused
dramatically, taking a sip from his drink.
Oh fuck, she thought, not that.
Biff seemed to read her mind. "How about you go and see those boys
down there and invite them over to our suite later tonight? I think
it'll be fun. We'll have ourselves a little party. Go on, doll, go
invite then. Now."
His tone made the command clear, so there was no room for her to
interpret his instructions creatively. She reluctantly accepted that
she would most likely be the star of another gangbang tonight. One
day, she thought, one day I'll get you for this, you fucking bastard.
She stood up and shook off the sand that had blown onto her skin. As
she reached down to grab her towel, Biff stopped her. "No," he said,
shaking his head. "Go like that. I don't want you covering that hot
little body of yours. Besides, how are you going to convince them to
come along if you're not showing off your wares? Whatever you do, make
sure they accept your gracious invitation. I want you at your most
persuasive, if you know what I mean." He winked exaggerately.
She felt her face smile, her hips cock to the side. "Of course, big
guy. Jennie will be at her most convincing. She will use her
best... arguments." She grabbed her breasts and squeezed them, to her
own embarrassment.
"Looks good, doll. Whatever works. Now move that cute ass of yours
before they scram."
She could feel his eyes on her body as she made her way down the beach
to where the boys that had ogled her earlier were hanging out. She
tried to focus on the warm sand beneath her feet, the hot sun on her
skin, the light breeze that caught in her hair, anything to avoid
thinking about what she was doing. This place would be so perfect if
it wasn't for... you know...
As she neared them, her body went automatically into what she had come
to call high seduction mode. Her steps became shorter, her movements
more fluid, her hips swayed more--every movement ensuring that her
breasts would bounce as much as possible. She knew her face harbored a
little smile, her eyes unreadable behind dark sunglasses, but looking
hungry. She reached up to untie the ponytail that kept her hair up and
let her long hair cascade down to her shoulders. She had no
illusions--she knew she looked like a wet dream, and could foresee
exactly what the next few minutes would look like. She braced herself
for it, knowing there was no fighting it, and she hated that all she
was left with was trying to find solace in the pleasure that those
boys ogling and pawing her would bring.
The boys noticed her when she was almost upon them. One of them saw
her first and stared--earning a soccer ball to the face for his
trouble--and he pointed her out excitedly to his friends. They stopped
what they were doing and watched her approach. This time they remained
silent, probably unsure of her intentions.
She advanced in the middle of the rough semicircle they formed, all
five of them. Once there, she stuck a model's pose, head high, chest
thrust out, with one leg off the side and one hand on her hip. "Hello
boys," she said, her voice low, caressing, enticing.
The boys stared, dumbstruck. Their eyes roamed up and down her body,
and it reacted to the attention. She felt her breasts swell, her clit
throb, her pussy moisten. Her body was getting ready for sex. Getting
primed, Biff called it, like a car revving up before a race. From the
boys' expressions, she knew they had noticed her nipples hardening
through her minuscule bikini. Here she was, practically naked but for
a few patches of material on her nipples and her crotch, tanned and
glistening and looking like a goddess on this Caribbean beach.
"You boys like what you see?" Clearly they needed a bit of a push. All
their earlier bluster seemed to have gone out of them. They looked
like the teenage boys they were, unsure how to act with a woman that
was comfortable with her own sexuality. Little do they know, she
thought. "You were certainly looking at Jennie hard enough back
there. It made Jennie feel all dirty. And you know what?" She paused,
then slowly spun on herself, hearing them gasp when she faced away
from them and they could see exactly how much material was not
covering her rear, getting a perfectly view of her ass barely marred
by a tiny string running between her cheeks. When she completed her
turn, she saw that they all sported erections. "Jennie really enjoys
feeling dirty," she purred.
They were staring at her, silent, motionless. She had taken them by
surprise, she figured. Between the fact that she was taking the
initiative, and the fact that she was referring to herself in the
third person--something Biff had her do once and had made permanent
once he realized how much he enjoyed it and how much it disgusted
her--the boys had no idea what she was up to, and would not make a
move. She, therefore, had the take the first step.
She cast her attention towards one of the boys, who had his eyes glued
to her breasts. He was of average height, and looked like every other
local boy on the island. He looked young, innocent, and his eyes
seemed kind. She smiled, and took a step towards him. "Do you like
them?" she asked him. His eyes widened and he looked like he was about
to scamper away. "It's okay," she soothed him. "You can look. You can
look as much as you want. After all, if Jennie wears a suit likes
this, it must be because she wants boys like you to look, don't you
think?" She slid her hands beneat her breasts and hefted them up,
squeezing them together. The boy's eyes widened even more. "Would you
like to touch them?" she asked softly. The way that boy was looking at
her made her almost blush--he was acting like he was in the presence
of an angel. She smiled encouragingly, and stepped yet closer to
him. The boy lifted a hand, cautiously, hesitatingly, and let it hover
a few inches from her chest without going any further. There was a
deep silence, the tension building, almost palpable.
The spell was broken when one of the boys, taller than the others,
spoke up. "Come on, Tiger, what are you waiting for?" He tried to sound
cool, but there was a hesitation in his voice, a tremor. When she did
not react, he continued, the hesitation gone. "Come on, grab her tits
already!" There he is, she thought, the one I have to get on
board. Get him, and they'll all follow. The boy he had called Tiger
came to a decision, and ran two fingers from the middle of her chest
down to the insides of one of her breasts before palming it with a
slightly shaking hand.
Jenn moaned. Not only was her body primed to respond to the boy's
touch, but it actually felt good. And from the look on Tiger's face,
this must have been the first time he had touched a woman's
breast. She cooed softly. "There you go, Tiger. Just like that--press
on it. Does it feel good?" His eyes never leaving her chest, he
nodded, slowly, a wonderful smile spreading over his features.
Tiger squeezing her breasts--he now had both of his hands on her
chest, caressing her--was the needed catalyst. One of the boys, tall
and gangly, cheered--"Hell yeah! Tiger! Squeeze her tits!"--while the
remaining two high-fived and grinned widely. Jenn looked around the
group, catching the eyes of every single one of the boys while Tiger
had his two hands on her breasts fondling and stroking them softly.
Everyone was staring at her with what she recognized as hunger in
their eyes, having lost their initial uneasiness, and the pairing of
their evident lust and Tiger's hands groping her triggered a wave of
arousal to surge through her body. Her gaze landed on the tallest boy,
the one that had urged Tiger on just before. His eyes were slowly
roaming over her body, taking in every detail, and Jenn was painfully
aware of how naked she actually was. She wanted to blush and cover
herself, but instead looked directly at the tall boy, a teasing smile
on her face. Time to close the deal, she thought.
She gently took Tiger's hands in hers and took a step forward to give
him a kiss on the corner of the mouth. "Thank you Tiger. Your hands
felt wonderful," she whispered. Tiger did not respond, only looked at
her with his large eyes. Following some instinct, she added, "you must
be quite popular with the ladies. You have great hands." He blushed
violently, but still said nothing.
Jenn turned towards the tall boy, and slowly, teasingly, took the few
steps needed to bring her right in front of him. "Hey there," she
said, keeping her voice low. She took another step, and was now deep
into his personal space, her face no more than six inches from his. He
was maybe half a head taller than she was, so she had to look up
slightly. She put on her best doe eyes. "And what's your name?"
"They call me Bulldog," he said.
"Jennie."
"Yeah, I kindda got that." He looked down to her chest, admiring what
Tiger had handled just seconds earlier.
"Tiger, Bulldog... do you all have animal names?"
Bulldog nodded. "That's us. We're the Wild Crew. We're the bad boys
around here. You got Weasel over there--" he pointed to a slight boy
with short cropped hair, a quiet demeanor, and shifty eyes, "you got
Mantis--" he pointed to the tall gangly boy who had cheered earlier,
"and then you got Rhino there--" and he pointed to a large boy
standing between Mantis and Tiger. Every one of the boys responded to
their name by striking a pose with some attitude--trying to impress
her with their power and coolness. Right--the bad boys around
here. She would have laughed had she been able to. Instead, she turned
her attention back to Bulldog.
"So you're the boss then? The top dog, so to speak?"
The boys chuckled at that, and Bulldog gave a twisted smile.
"You could say that. That's my crew, right here."
"Well, you should know, Bulldog, that Jennie was getting pretty lonely
down there, all by herself, and she is in the mood for some fun
tonight. Do you think Jennie could interest you and your crew in a
little party that she and her boyfriend are throwing tonight?" Jenn
stepped closer to Bulldog, the tip of her nipples grazing his chest
through her bikini, her lips a breath away from his.
"A party, huh? And who's going to be there at that party of yours?"
Bulldog ran the tip of his finger from her shoulder to the crook of
her elbow, sending shivers down her spine.
"Well," said Jenn, looking coy, "there's going to be you, and
hopefully him, and him, and him, and him, and--of course--Jennie and
her boyfriend."
"Right. And what about that boyfriend of yours?"
"Oh, he's cool. Let's just say that he likes to share his toys. And
Jennie is by far his favorite toy to share."
Jenn closed the distance between her and Bulldog, her breasts pressing
against his naked chest. She felt shivers run down from her sensitive
nipples all the way down to her crotch. She exhaled, knowing that
Bulldog could feel her warm breath on his lips.
Bulldog's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sounds too good to be true..." he
said, his voice trailing off.
"Oh it is," whispered Jenn, her voice throaty. "It's better than
anything you could possibly imagine. You know those dreams you have at
night when no one is looking? Jennie can make all of those dreams come
true. It will be a party you won't forget--ever." She pressed her lips
on his, and like a dam bursting he grabbed her and pulled her against
him, squishing her body, flattening her breasts against his chest. Her
leg slinked between his, rubbing up and down slowly. The kiss
deepened, his tongue invading her mouth, her own responding in
kind. Jenn was used to kissing strange men by now, and while it was
not pleasant, at least his breath was fresh. She tried her usual
trick, shutting off her mind and imagining that she was in a deep
embrace with Daniel, and that made it somewhat more bearable.
Bulldog ran a hand down her back and cupped one of her ass cheeks,
pulling her pelvis up and hard against his crotch, and she felt the
raging erection in his shorts. Her body reacted to the contact as if
she had stuck a fork in an electrical outlet. She moaned in his mouth,
and he kissed her harder. Part of her, the part she could not control,
the part that Biff had messed with, wanted nothing more than to feel
Bulldog's hard cock ravaging her. She marveled at the strength of the
feeling, knowing that however much the act might disgust her, it would
also bring her untold pleasure. That was Biff's cruel legacy, to make
her enjoy--crave--something she hated so much.
Bulldog eventually broke the kiss, leaving her panting. He grinned
smugly. "Fine. We'll come to your party. But I'll hold you up to what
you said. It better be worth it."
"Oh, it will be worth it, trust Jennie. Eight o'clock, room 13 of the
Lilac Bloom. You know where it is?"
"Of course."
"Jennie will see you all there, then." Jenn exhaled within the
confines of her mind. This had been easier than she had feared. She
turned around, making sure to give Bulldog a good look at her ass, and
his intake of breath was enough to suggest he greatly enjoyed the
view.
The boy called Tiger was still looking at her, but unlike all the
others, he was staring straight at her face. She smiled, and stepped
up to him. She caressed his face, young and soft. "How about you,
Tiger? Are you going to be there this evening? Are you going to come
and party with Jennie?" Tiger nodded forcefully.
"I think you and Jennie will have a lot of fun together," she
whispered. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the mouth, closing
her eyes. His lips were tentative, and she instinctively knew that
this was his first time kissing a girl. The kiss was a bright flare of
innocence in a past several weeks severely lacking any. The thought
that she would likely take his virginity tonight made her feel both
guilty and warm inside, as well as adding to her overall arousal.
Her hand lingering on his face and his untrained lips, she turned to
go, happy to leave their circle and their leering gaze. She had taken
three steps before the tall gangly boy that Bulldog had called Mantis
spoke up.
"Hey Jennie--who's Biff?"
Jenn's heart sank. Of course--what did I expect, that they would not
notice?
Like Biff had instructed her to do whenever the situation arose, she
turned around to face the five boys, and stood straight, her hand
running down the sides of her body to rest on the strings of her
bikini bottoms, pushing them out slightly and framing the tattoo that
graced her lower belly in a rainbow arc a hair's breath above her
clit--the words "Biff's Cunt" in dark red ink. She remembered when
Biff had brought her to that tattoo parlor, how embarrassed she had
been to strip down and let the artist work, having to reply pleasantly
to his sexist banter, while Biff stood by regaling the artist with
anecdotes about her many sexual skills. Biff had contemplated letting
the tattoo artist fuck her by way of payment, but he had not followed
through. Biff had also toyed with the idea of having her nipples
pierced, but there again he had not followed through. But the threat
lingered in the air, and it served to emphasize just how little
control she had over Biff making permanent changes to her body.
And now, everyone that she stripped for, everyone that she fucked,
everyone that was granted use of her body could not help but see that
tattoo over her pussy, and they sometimes asked about it, sometimes
merely snickered, and always it reminded her of what she was.
None of this showed on her face. She smiled wide to the five boys, her
hands framing her tattoo. "Biff is Jennie's boyfriend, of course." She
winked at them all. "Jennie will see you all later, boys."
Leaving them with their questions, she turned on her heels and left,
making sure that she swayed her ass tantalizingly as she walked.
This is just a quick reminder that the ASSTR Administration will be performing maintenance on our server hardware this weekend beginning as early as this evening. During this time, it is likely some or all of the site will be unavailable.I love ASSTR, as they provide a wonderful service, and I cannot hold it against them that they're scheduling their annual maintenance this weekend of all weekends.
But then the lady doth protest too much, because to be honest I still need some time to edit the second half of The Adjusters #20 to my satisfaction. It's a massive 15000+ words monster that has resisted all my attempts at splitting it in two.
Because I do not want a revolt, and to carry you over, I am posting the first part of the episode here and now. The full episode will be up when ASSTR comes back online, by which time the final editing pass will be done. Thanks for your patience!
Lying in the sun on this relatively isolated beach near St John's, in
the Virgin Islands, Jennifer Hansen was not only enjoying the warmth
on her skin, but mainly the feeling of being herself, alone, free--if
only temporarily. Biff had gone to get some drinks, and this time he
had not left her any instructions aside from staying put and not to
hide her body. All in all, this was a rather minor set of
instructions. And so she was left to savor the pleasures of this
idyllic area of the Caribbeans, her very own gilded prison
She spotted from the corner of her eye a group of older teenage boys
walking past the towel she was lying on, local black kids judging from
their clothes and general demeanor, and saw them openly stare at
her. And why would they not? she reflected bitterly--I look amazing,
my body's taken to the sun like a fish to water, and this micro-bikini
hides absolutely nothing. When she felt their eyes on her, she could
not help the thrill of arousal shooting straight to her crotch, and
her body reacted automatically ever since--before she could complete
the thought, her nipples tightened, her thighs clenched, and her pussy
started juicing up. Here we go again.
The boys whistled as they walked past her. "Nice tits, babe!"--"Want
me to rub some lotion on you? I got great hands!"--"You fuck as good
as look?" Nothing terribly original, nothing she had not heard a
thousand times already since they had landed on this goddamned island
already a month ago.
She felt no compulsion to respond to their prompts--Biff had made
sure that her body would react to people looking at her, but
mercifully did not force her to engage in conversation automatically
anymore--and she was grateful that they did not actually stop to
pester her. They kept walking and admiring her body, their gaze
lingering on her breasts, barely covered by two small triangular
patches over her nipples, before traveling down to her taut stomach
and then to her crotch, also barely covered by a triangular patch
even smaller than those over her nipples, and then down her long
naked legs. Biff wanted her on display. She was insanely thankful
that he was not there right then, as he would almost certainly have
made her put on a show of some sort for those boys.
Biff. She could feel her body tense and her teeth clench. What had he
done to her? That question was still going round and round in her
head, like an earworm of which she could not rid herself. In those
rare instances when he let her speak freely, she had asked him--okay,
screamed at him--and he had always merely replied that it was magic
and that he had used his amazing mesmerizing powers, all of that said
with his most sufficient smile.
She had had a lot of time to reconstruct the sequence of events that
led her to her current situation, but she was missing a lot, and it
was not even clear that knowing what had happened was helpful. It
started with Biff cornering her after one of her classes back in
January, and he must have drugged her because everything was a blur
after that, a blur in which images flashed in and out--lab equipment,
Biff, a bespectacled young man she would later learned was called
Bernie, other images that she could not identify. And then the
memories of what she caught herself calling her disconnected
life--obeying whatever Biff told her to do, her consciousness a silent
passenger in her own body, a witness to the events of her life, unable
to affect them. When Biff had showed up at her apartment and ordered
her to give him head. When he had called her after class the next day
and told her to dress sexy and go meet him and he had taken her for
the first time, while he recorded everything, and afterwards when
Bernie had shown up and injected her with something and everything
became a blur again. When they skipping from cheap motel to cheap
motel, finally ending up in that abandoned farm house. Until this trip
to the Caribbeans, that had seemed to so anger Biff. Memories. She had
screamed herself hoarse there at the beginning--in a manner of
speaking, of course, since she was trapped inside her own head. But
not anymore. She was tired of screaming. It did not work. Nothing
did. She was a toy for Biff, a life-sized doll for him to play with.
And play with her he did.
It had been nonstop since that first day, over and over again. She
shivered internally just thinking about it all. He did not seem to get
tired of taking her. Wherever they were, whomever was around, he would
slip his dick between her legs and take her, hard and fast. He loved
her mouth, spending many hours just sitting back and watching her bob
her head up and down on his dick until she felt her jaw would fall
off. And he had a special spot for her ass, which he had fucked for
the first time after a week of preparation. Plucking her anal cherry,
he still called it. Bastard.
Two months of sexual slavery. There was no other word for it. She
hated it, hated it all, which made it all the more worse. Because Biff
had made sure that her body would be exquisitly sensitive to any sort
of stimulation, even just being looked at. Just the thought of
someone's hands running down her sides to her hips was enough to make
her pussy tingle in anticipation. And when a dick slid inside
her--Jesus, it felt like nothing else in the world! She hated what she
was doing, what she had no choice of doing, but at the same time, she
was at the receiving end of pleasure unlike any she had ever felt
before. Her body was betraying her, over and over again. Is that how
you go insane? she wondered.
Had she, in fact, gone insane? Was that the explanation? Was this all
a supremely complex hallucination her sick brain was conjuring up?
That thought was almost comforting. A vision of herself in an insane
asylum--in a corner of a fully padded room, drooling all over herself,
arms tied in a straight jacket to keep her from frigging herself to
death--flashed in her mind, and even that image made her pussy juice
up. Another wonderful gift from Biff, who thought it was a hoot to get
her body to react with arousal whenever she felt humiliated.
At the periphery of her perception, she felt the teenage boys moving
away, turning their heads to look at her and let their eyes crawl over
her exposed body one last time.
One last time. Daniel. Oh God, Daniel! Stop it, she chided
herself. Don't go there. But she did. She flashed back to that one
last time she had seen her fiance, fast asleep in their bed and
hugging her pillow. He had looked so peaceful, untroubled by anything,
almost innocent. She had wanted to shake him awake, beg him to run
away with her, run far, far, away from Biff and his friends. But she
did not. She could not. Biff's instructions had been to act normal
until he contacted her again, and so she had merely kissed Daniel
lightly on the forehead, left him a short note to thank him for what
she feared was their last night together and to tell him that she was
thinking of renting a movie for the evening. And then she had gone to
class. And then Biff had snatched her away. "Dress sexy, doll" Biff
had told her, "and come meet me at this address." And she had done
it. She had gone back home to pick up her sexiest yet classy
outfit--her favorite dress shirt with that short black skirt that she
had worn at her prom and had made her date almost spill his drink--and
she had had one last look around, scared beyond measure that she would
not be allowed to return, that Biff would keep her to himself,
unwilling to let her go, and unable to do anything about it. She had
felt so alone, would have given anything for a chance to feel Daniel's
arms around her telling her everything would be all right. But that
kind of succor had not been available--it rarely was, she had
discovered early in life--and she was now indeed alone.
All the more so because who knew what Daniel thought of her at this
moment? As far as he knew, she had dumped him to go frolic with
Biff. The fact that on their last night together, following Biff's
instructions to fuck him as well as she knew how, she had seduced her
fiance by telling him a story featuring Biff must have felt like
twisting the knife in the wound. Never mind that she had been trying
to tell him what had happened to her, within the leeway of the
instructions that Biff had given her--Daniel had not picked up on the
clues. And why should he have, she despaired, it's not like I was
behaving much different than usual. And clearly, he had seemed to
enjoy it.
Oh, Daniel had searched for her at first, she was sure of it. That may
even have been the reason why Biff had had them leave town so
fast. And there had been that sleazy-looking private investigator on
their tail, too. But of course, Biff had been unable to resist the
temptation and had sent her off to seduce the man, telling her to
offer him her best blow job, and also to give him her engagement ring
and a message for Daniel, namely that it was all over between
them. Between that and the video clips of her fucking with enthusiasm
and eagerness and imagination that Biff recorded and that he said he
regularly emailed to Daniel--he had this sick kick of wanting to
torture Daniel by showing him how much of a slut his fiancee could be
for other men, like the first time Biff claimed her ass, her first
threesome with another girl, her first gangbang--and the emails that
he forced her to write to Daniel recounting her adventures--porn, pure
and simple, with me as the star, she thought--well, she could
understand that Daniel might want nothing else to do with her, might
want to just forget about her, thinking of her as a cheating
bitch. How could she blame him? She could not hope that he trusted her
enough to know that she was not doing any of it of her own free
will. After all, even she did not understand what was happening. Were
Daniel right before her, she would not know even where to start
explain what was going on. And that's assuming that Biff would let me
talk freely--she shivered at what Biff could make her do or say were
she to see Daniel again. Perhaps it was all for the best that she was
so far from him.
"So did those boys check you out good, doll?" Biff's voice, always
faintly mocking, boomed from behind her. His shadow crept over
her. "Beause I gotta tell you, the view's damn nice from up here."
She looked up over her sunglasses at the upside-down hulking
figure. He was holding two large glasses filled with multicolored
liquid in swirling patterns. He was wearing a tee shirt and bermuda
shorts, the typical American student on an island party binge
outfit. Here we go again, she moaned inside, realizing that she had
hoped without hope that he would take longer to do what he did.
"They did, big guy," she said, unable to control her words or her tone
of voice, low and sultry. In her mind, she pictured it as a thick
veneer over her personality, one that she had absolutely no control
over, making her act as a nymphomaniac girlfriend--all per Biff's
instructions, of course. It was still her, anyone could head, anyone
could tell, but she was not driving. Even though she had been living
like this for weeks now, it remained disconcerting and scary as all
hell. "Jennie could see them stare at her big titties, wanting to grab
them and press into them hard, you know, the way you like to do it?
But they just walked away." She managed to sound disappointed.
Bill grinned, and dropped down next to her. He handed her one of the
glasses. The concoction tasted like someone had poured out a bottle of
rum, and added some fruit juice as an afterthought to give it
color. Yet, she drank it, propped on one elbow.
"Sorry you didn't get to feel their hands on you, doll. I know how you
like strangers groping you. I bet you're all wet now, ain't you? My
little beach slut..."
Jenn felt her hand move to her crotch and push aside the tiny triangle
covering her slit and run a finger through it. She moaned softly, her
hips shifting up with the motion. She did not fight her body--that
never worked anyways--and she was rewarded by a lance of pleasure
stabbing through her clit. She pulled her finger out and brought it to
her lips, letting it hover teasingly. "You're absolutely right, big
guy. Jennie is dripping wet, as you can see." she said, sliding her
wet finger through her lips and sucking on it, her eyes in Biff's
eyes. "Jennie is all ready for you. Would you like to fuck Jennie? You
could give those boys a little show. Show them what they're missing
out on?" Please don't, she pleaded internally. Not out here. Take me
back to our room if you're gonna have me.
Biff let his eyes travel down her body, and he licked his lips. Jenn
felt her nipples tighten in response, and she knew full well that Biff
had noticed, because he grinned widely. But rather than proceed with
fondling her, as she was expecting, he leaned back and stared in the
distance where the teenage boys were kicking a soccer ball around,
drinking beer. He grinned again.
"A tempting offer, doll, but I have another idea. It's been a while we
haven't recorded a little something for your ex-fiance, hasn't it? I
think I know exactly what would make for a great movie." He paused
dramatically, taking a sip from his drink.
Oh fuck, she thought, not that.
Biff seemed to read her mind. "How about you go and see those boys
down there and invite them over to our suite later tonight? I think
it'll be fun. We'll have ourselves a little party. Go on, doll, go
invite then. Now."
His tone made the command clear, so there was no room for her to
interpret his instructions creatively. She reluctantly accepted that
she would most likely be the star of another gangbang tonight. One
day, she thought, one day I'll get you for this, you fucking bastard.
She stood up and shook off the sand that had blown onto her skin. As
she reached down to grab her towel, Biff stopped her. "No," he said,
shaking his head. "Go like that. I don't want you covering that hot
little body of yours. Besides, how are you going to convince them to
come along if you're not showing off your wares? Whatever you do, make
sure they accept your gracious invitation. I want you at your most
persuasive, if you know what I mean." He winked exaggerately.
She felt her face smile, her hips cock to the side. "Of course, big
guy. Jennie will be at her most convincing. She will use her
best... arguments." She grabbed her breasts and squeezed them, to her
own embarrassment.
"Looks good, doll. Whatever works. Now move that cute ass of yours
before they scram."
She could feel his eyes on her body as she made her way down the beach
to where the boys that had ogled her earlier were hanging out. She
tried to focus on the warm sand beneath her feet, the hot sun on her
skin, the light breeze that caught in her hair, anything to avoid
thinking about what she was doing. This place would be so perfect if
it wasn't for... you know...
As she neared them, her body went automatically into what she had come
to call high seduction mode. Her steps became shorter, her movements
more fluid, her hips swayed more--every movement ensuring that her
breasts would bounce as much as possible. She knew her face harbored a
little smile, her eyes unreadable behind dark sunglasses, but looking
hungry. She reached up to untie the ponytail that kept her hair up and
let her long hair cascade down to her shoulders. She had no
illusions--she knew she looked like a wet dream, and could foresee
exactly what the next few minutes would look like. She braced herself
for it, knowing there was no fighting it, and she hated that all she
was left with was trying to find solace in the pleasure that those
boys ogling and pawing her would bring.
The boys noticed her when she was almost upon them. One of them saw
her first and stared--earning a soccer ball to the face for his
trouble--and he pointed her out excitedly to his friends. They stopped
what they were doing and watched her approach. This time they remained
silent, probably unsure of her intentions.
She advanced in the middle of the rough semicircle they formed, all
five of them. Once there, she stuck a model's pose, head high, chest
thrust out, with one leg off the side and one hand on her hip. "Hello
boys," she said, her voice low, caressing, enticing.
The boys stared, dumbstruck. Their eyes roamed up and down her body,
and it reacted to the attention. She felt her breasts swell, her clit
throb, her pussy moisten. Her body was getting ready for sex. Getting
primed, Biff called it, like a car revving up before a race. From the
boys' expressions, she knew they had noticed her nipples hardening
through her minuscule bikini. Here she was, practically naked but for
a few patches of material on her nipples and her crotch, tanned and
glistening and looking like a goddess on this Caribbean beach.
"You boys like what you see?" Clearly they needed a bit of a push. All
their earlier bluster seemed to have gone out of them. They looked
like the teenage boys they were, unsure how to act with a woman that
was comfortable with her own sexuality. Little do they know, she
thought. "You were certainly looking at Jennie hard enough back
there. It made Jennie feel all dirty. And you know what?" She paused,
then slowly spun on herself, hearing them gasp when she faced away
from them and they could see exactly how much material was not
covering her rear, getting a perfectly view of her ass barely marred
by a tiny string running between her cheeks. When she completed her
turn, she saw that they all sported erections. "Jennie really enjoys
feeling dirty," she purred.
They were staring at her, silent, motionless. She had taken them by
surprise, she figured. Between the fact that she was taking the
initiative, and the fact that she was referring to herself in the
third person--something Biff had her do once and had made permanent
once he realized how much he enjoyed it and how much it disgusted
her--the boys had no idea what she was up to, and would not make a
move. She, therefore, had the take the first step.
She cast her attention towards one of the boys, who had his eyes glued
to her breasts. He was of average height, and looked like every other
local boy on the island. He looked young, innocent, and his eyes
seemed kind. She smiled, and took a step towards him. "Do you like
them?" she asked him. His eyes widened and he looked like he was about
to scamper away. "It's okay," she soothed him. "You can look. You can
look as much as you want. After all, if Jennie wears a suit likes
this, it must be because she wants boys like you to look, don't you
think?" She slid her hands beneat her breasts and hefted them up,
squeezing them together. The boy's eyes widened even more. "Would you
like to touch them?" she asked softly. The way that boy was looking at
her made her almost blush--he was acting like he was in the presence
of an angel. She smiled encouragingly, and stepped yet closer to
him. The boy lifted a hand, cautiously, hesitatingly, and let it hover
a few inches from her chest without going any further. There was a
deep silence, the tension building, almost palpable.
The spell was broken when one of the boys, taller than the others,
spoke up. "Come on, Tiger, what are you waiting for?" He tried to sound
cool, but there was a hesitation in his voice, a tremor. When she did
not react, he continued, the hesitation gone. "Come on, grab her tits
already!" There he is, she thought, the one I have to get on
board. Get him, and they'll all follow. The boy he had called Tiger
came to a decision, and ran two fingers from the middle of her chest
down to the insides of one of her breasts before palming it with a
slightly shaking hand.
Jenn moaned. Not only was her body primed to respond to the boy's
touch, but it actually felt good. And from the look on Tiger's face,
this must have been the first time he had touched a woman's
breast. She cooed softly. "There you go, Tiger. Just like that--press
on it. Does it feel good?" His eyes never leaving her chest, he
nodded, slowly, a wonderful smile spreading over his features.
Tiger squeezing her breasts--he now had both of his hands on her
chest, caressing her--was the needed catalyst. One of the boys, tall
and gangly, cheered--"Hell yeah! Tiger! Squeeze her tits!"--while the
remaining two high-fived and grinned widely. Jenn looked around the
group, catching the eyes of every single one of the boys while Tiger
had his two hands on her breasts fondling and stroking them softly.
Everyone was staring at her with what she recognized as hunger in
their eyes, having lost their initial uneasiness, and the pairing of
their evident lust and Tiger's hands groping her triggered a wave of
arousal to surge through her body. Her gaze landed on the tallest boy,
the one that had urged Tiger on just before. His eyes were slowly
roaming over her body, taking in every detail, and Jenn was painfully
aware of how naked she actually was. She wanted to blush and cover
herself, but instead looked directly at the tall boy, a teasing smile
on her face. Time to close the deal, she thought.
She gently took Tiger's hands in hers and took a step forward to give
him a kiss on the corner of the mouth. "Thank you Tiger. Your hands
felt wonderful," she whispered. Tiger did not respond, only looked at
her with his large eyes. Following some instinct, she added, "you must
be quite popular with the ladies. You have great hands." He blushed
violently, but still said nothing.
Jenn turned towards the tall boy, and slowly, teasingly, took the few
steps needed to bring her right in front of him. "Hey there," she
said, keeping her voice low. She took another step, and was now deep
into his personal space, her face no more than six inches from his. He
was maybe half a head taller than she was, so she had to look up
slightly. She put on her best doe eyes. "And what's your name?"
"They call me Bulldog," he said.
"Jennie."
"Yeah, I kindda got that." He looked down to her chest, admiring what
Tiger had handled just seconds earlier.
"Tiger, Bulldog... do you all have animal names?"
Bulldog nodded. "That's us. We're the Wild Crew. We're the bad boys
around here. You got Weasel over there--" he pointed to a slight boy
with short cropped hair, a quiet demeanor, and shifty eyes, "you got
Mantis--" he pointed to the tall gangly boy who had cheered earlier,
"and then you got Rhino there--" and he pointed to a large boy
standing between Mantis and Tiger. Every one of the boys responded to
their name by striking a pose with some attitude--trying to impress
her with their power and coolness. Right--the bad boys around
here. She would have laughed had she been able to. Instead, she turned
her attention back to Bulldog.
"So you're the boss then? The top dog, so to speak?"
The boys chuckled at that, and Bulldog gave a twisted smile.
"You could say that. That's my crew, right here."
"Well, you should know, Bulldog, that Jennie was getting pretty lonely
down there, all by herself, and she is in the mood for some fun
tonight. Do you think Jennie could interest you and your crew in a
little party that she and her boyfriend are throwing tonight?" Jenn
stepped closer to Bulldog, the tip of her nipples grazing his chest
through her bikini, her lips a breath away from his.
"A party, huh? And who's going to be there at that party of yours?"
Bulldog ran the tip of his finger from her shoulder to the crook of
her elbow, sending shivers down her spine.
"Well," said Jenn, looking coy, "there's going to be you, and
hopefully him, and him, and him, and him, and--of course--Jennie and
her boyfriend."
"Right. And what about that boyfriend of yours?"
"Oh, he's cool. Let's just say that he likes to share his toys. And
Jennie is by far his favorite toy to share."
Jenn closed the distance between her and Bulldog, her breasts pressing
against his naked chest. She felt shivers run down from her sensitive
nipples all the way down to her crotch. She exhaled, knowing that
Bulldog could feel her warm breath on his lips.
Bulldog's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sounds too good to be true..." he
said, his voice trailing off.
"Oh it is," whispered Jenn, her voice throaty. "It's better than
anything you could possibly imagine. You know those dreams you have at
night when no one is looking? Jennie can make all of those dreams come
true. It will be a party you won't forget--ever." She pressed her lips
on his, and like a dam bursting he grabbed her and pulled her against
him, squishing her body, flattening her breasts against his chest. Her
leg slinked between his, rubbing up and down slowly. The kiss
deepened, his tongue invading her mouth, her own responding in
kind. Jenn was used to kissing strange men by now, and while it was
not pleasant, at least his breath was fresh. She tried her usual
trick, shutting off her mind and imagining that she was in a deep
embrace with Daniel, and that made it somewhat more bearable.
Bulldog ran a hand down her back and cupped one of her ass cheeks,
pulling her pelvis up and hard against his crotch, and she felt the
raging erection in his shorts. Her body reacted to the contact as if
she had stuck a fork in an electrical outlet. She moaned in his mouth,
and he kissed her harder. Part of her, the part she could not control,
the part that Biff had messed with, wanted nothing more than to feel
Bulldog's hard cock ravaging her. She marveled at the strength of the
feeling, knowing that however much the act might disgust her, it would
also bring her untold pleasure. That was Biff's cruel legacy, to make
her enjoy--crave--something she hated so much.
Bulldog eventually broke the kiss, leaving her panting. He grinned
smugly. "Fine. We'll come to your party. But I'll hold you up to what
you said. It better be worth it."
"Oh, it will be worth it, trust Jennie. Eight o'clock, room 13 of the
Lilac Bloom. You know where it is?"
"Of course."
"Jennie will see you all there, then." Jenn exhaled within the
confines of her mind. This had been easier than she had feared. She
turned around, making sure to give Bulldog a good look at her ass, and
his intake of breath was enough to suggest he greatly enjoyed the
view.
The boy called Tiger was still looking at her, but unlike all the
others, he was staring straight at her face. She smiled, and stepped
up to him. She caressed his face, young and soft. "How about you,
Tiger? Are you going to be there this evening? Are you going to come
and party with Jennie?" Tiger nodded forcefully.
"I think you and Jennie will have a lot of fun together," she
whispered. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the mouth, closing
her eyes. His lips were tentative, and she instinctively knew that
this was his first time kissing a girl. The kiss was a bright flare of
innocence in a past several weeks severely lacking any. The thought
that she would likely take his virginity tonight made her feel both
guilty and warm inside, as well as adding to her overall arousal.
Her hand lingering on his face and his untrained lips, she turned to
go, happy to leave their circle and their leering gaze. She had taken
three steps before the tall gangly boy that Bulldog had called Mantis
spoke up.
"Hey Jennie--who's Biff?"
Jenn's heart sank. Of course--what did I expect, that they would not
notice?
Like Biff had instructed her to do whenever the situation arose, she
turned around to face the five boys, and stood straight, her hand
running down the sides of her body to rest on the strings of her
bikini bottoms, pushing them out slightly and framing the tattoo that
graced her lower belly in a rainbow arc a hair's breath above her
clit--the words "Biff's Cunt" in dark red ink. She remembered when
Biff had brought her to that tattoo parlor, how embarrassed she had
been to strip down and let the artist work, having to reply pleasantly
to his sexist banter, while Biff stood by regaling the artist with
anecdotes about her many sexual skills. Biff had contemplated letting
the tattoo artist fuck her by way of payment, but he had not followed
through. Biff had also toyed with the idea of having her nipples
pierced, but there again he had not followed through. But the threat
lingered in the air, and it served to emphasize just how little
control she had over Biff making permanent changes to her body.
And now, everyone that she stripped for, everyone that she fucked,
everyone that was granted use of her body could not help but see that
tattoo over her pussy, and they sometimes asked about it, sometimes
merely snickered, and always it reminded her of what she was.
None of this showed on her face. She smiled wide to the five boys, her
hands framing her tattoo. "Biff is Jennie's boyfriend, of course." She
winked at them all. "Jennie will see you all later, boys."
Leaving them with their questions, she turned on her heels and left,
making sure that she swayed her ass tantalizingly as she walked.
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