There is a small addition to 'Speaking Volumes' and I hope to add a bit more this weekend. I have also worked a bit more on 'A Work Of Art' and one of it's many endings.
I have also received more e-mails concerning 'Summer Project'. I have added to chapter 20 and hope to have it done by the end of the month. . .but we all know that life can intrude on the best laid plans. I have also started on the 2nd book of 'Summer Project and I am nearing the end of the first chapter. The working title is 'The Summer Project Book 2: The Reveal' unless someone can come up with a better title. However, I am not adding to my mailing list until I can clean it out. It was first compiled when I started writing 'Summer Project' and I am sure that there is numerous defunct email addresses in it. I will let people know when I will be taking names again so you can receive your chapters directly.
As always, feel free to post comments, e-mail me or IM me on AIM (Fesseln1).
Take care,
T.S.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tough Week
As you can tell, I haven't been able to write more to any story. Again, life intruded and a friend needed me to do him a favor, thus my writing time evaporated. However, I hope to add to it in the next day or so, life permitting.
I have done some re-reading of 'A Work Of Art' and have touched up a few things here and there as well as adding about a page. After such a long time between writings, I can see my 'style' has changed a bit and fiting my current style with the past one is proving an interesting challenge.
Feline has posted some comments on The Bound Forum . I have always found her comments fair and her stories very well written. Her latest reviews are upon 'Walk The Line' and 'Bounding Main' if you care to read them.
As always, take care and look for additons to 'Speaking Volumes' in the next couple days.
T.S.
I have done some re-reading of 'A Work Of Art' and have touched up a few things here and there as well as adding about a page. After such a long time between writings, I can see my 'style' has changed a bit and fiting my current style with the past one is proving an interesting challenge.
Feline has posted some comments on The Bound Forum . I have always found her comments fair and her stories very well written. Her latest reviews are upon 'Walk The Line' and 'Bounding Main' if you care to read them.
As always, take care and look for additons to 'Speaking Volumes' in the next couple days.
T.S.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
A Work In Progress
I thought I might do something different; something I hadn't done before and it might fun. I have decided to post the beginnings of a story and develop it here on the blog site. I will add to it from time to time and you will be able to see how a story progresses. The story I have chosen is the first of the setting challenges and the working title is 'Speaking Volumes'. Keep in mind this is a working draft and I can and will make changes along the way to completing it. A paragraph you may have read earlier might just disappear or moved to a much better part of the story.
Anyway, enough said. Here is the beginnings of 'Speaking Volumes'
A GREAT VOLUME OF TROUBLE
T.S. FESSELN
Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any res to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depictions of sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below.
Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him at FESSELN1@aol.com. Or visit his weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged.
It was a perfect day for reading, at least, that is what Erika thought. Looking out of her used bookstore window at the gray drizzle that cloaked the morning, she thought it gave the old main street a forlorn Dickensian look. On a day like today,she could see herself curled up in her armchair with a Kay Hooper mystery and a glass of wine. Too bad nobody else this morning felt that same way. The drizzle seemed to keep everyone inside.
Erika was not what one would picture as a book dealer. Most pictured her as a quiet, librarian type with her hair up in a bun and an ugly pair of 1950’s glasses. No, Erika could have been a model if she had so wished. At six-foot, her lithe figure was as sleek as a giraffe and her long, ash-blonde hair and blue eyes helped finish her Valkerian good looks. Erika did wear glasses, but they were much more stylish and they were for reading only.
The bookseller always tried to dress smartly and today was no exception to her inner fashion model. She wore a tight ivory-colored blouse and grey suit jacket with a matching skirt that stopped just above her knees. Erika also felt a bit sexy today so instead of her normal pantyhose, she decided upon a pair of smoke-colored stockings and garter belt with a pair of black lace panties. There were days like today she liked to flaunt her womanhood and tonight she would make sure her husband would benefit from it.
The book-dealer’s chore for the day was going through the three boxes of books she had won at an estate auction. For the most part, they were turn-of-the-century volumes by Kipling, Twain and Stephenson. They had that wonderful old book smell to them and were in superb condition with only a little sun-fading to mar their gilded spines. There were several she hadn’t recognized the titles of, so she set them in a stack to research a bit later. She had also taken a few intriguing books home to read after her husband would call it a night. Like her, her husband had long hours in the field and was comfortably worn out by ten o’clock. Erika, on the other hand, couldn’t shut her eyes until at least midnight so those became her reading hours.
Erika was fully engrossed in grading a series of English history books when the bell chimed above the door. Coming in was an attractive couple both dressed in dark suits that screamed ‘professional’. The man was tall, carried a large satchel briefcase and filled his suit quite nicely. His head was bald and he sported a graying mustache and goatee. His companion was shorter brunette with alluring green eyes and a no nonsense look about her.
“May I help you?” Erika asked, stepping out from behind the counter.
“I certainly hope so,” the woman spoke with a slight English accent, “You purchased just recently a portion of the McQuade estate’s library?”
Red flags went up in Erika’s head.
“Yes,” the blonde answered cautiously.
The woman glanced at her partner before turning back to Erika, “Very good. There has been a mistake made when the estate was disposed of, mainly, several books that Mr. McQuade had borrowed from our client and had not returned to him before Mr. McQuade had passed.”
“I see,” Erika said, “And do you have a list of titles? I can set the volumes aside as I sort through and give you a call back if any are in my purchase.”
“Actually, there is only one title we have not tracked down yet, ‘The Care And Treatment Of Particularly Fair Women’ by Dr. Geoffrey Brand. Our client is eager to get that particular book back into his collection.”
Erika recalled immediately the book the woman was asking about. It was one that she had selected to take home and peruse. The title bemused her and she wanted to see what Dr. Brand had to say.
“Well, I will see what I can do but I have yet to go through these boxes. If you would like to leave a phone number I would gladly. . .”
“Quite frankly, we don’t have time,” the woman interrupted, “We are only here for a day or two before heading back to England. So if you would kindly go through these boxes now, we will wait and take the book when you get to it.”
Erika was starting to get a bit impatient with these two and her impatience was slowly starting to turn to anger.
“First of all, Ms. Ah. . .”
“Roberts,” the woman said.
“I really don’t have proof that that book is your clients. You will have to provide some way of showing that it is his,” Erika continued, “Second, I bought these books in good faith so if the volume you want is in here, I will gladly sell it to you for a fair price but not before I am ready to do so.”
The couple both looked a bit disturbed by this.
“I see,” the woman said as the man started towards the front door, “I am afraid we cannot provide any of the evidence of ownership you are looking for. . .”
Erika noticed the man turning the lock shut and flipping the open sign to closed.
“. . .and as for compensation for your purchase of the book, well, again, my client is very adamant about not having to purchase the book twice, since it cost him dearly the first time.”
Erika tried to keep her cool and slowly started to back towards the counter and the phone. She had no silent alarm and the alarm system she did have would require her to punch in several numbers and she didn’t think she would have time to do that before the couple was upon her. The phone at this point was her best option.
“Please see it from our client’s point of view,” the brunette continued, “It is his property and he has a right to get it back.”
“Is his name plate inside the book?” Erika asked, stalling as she continued to slowly back up.
The woman matched her step for step and the man was making his way towards her as well.
“My client didn’t say,” Miss Roberts said.
Erika turned and ran but the woman was prepared for just that and grabbed a hold of the bookstore owner. Erika turned and tried to pry the woman off when the man grabbed her as well, pinning her arms to her sides.
The blonde began to scream but the brunette produced a dark rag from her coat pocket and stuffed it quickly into her mouth as Erika kicked and struggled futilely. The pair then wrestled the blonde to the floor and pinned her there; taking her wrists and pinning them to her back.
The brunette, Miss Roberts, opened up the leather satchel that the man had brought in and brought out a pair of glinting handcuffs. In a wink, they had her wrists tightly locked behind her back. The same fate befell her ankles before they turned her over.
“We are sorry to have to do this, but we really do need that book,” the woman said, knelling down and brushing the stray blonde hairs out of Erika’s face.
The man went over and turned off the lights then whispered to the woman who nodded and went behind the counter and pulled out a pad of paper and a marker.
‘They had prepared for just this,’ Erika thought as she squirmed a bit on the floor trying to force her way out of the handcuffs.
The man knelt down beside the bound woman and pulled from the satchel a small coil of rope. Erika watched with morbid fascination as the man quickly tied her knees together, cinching them tight but not so much as to cut off her circulation. He rolled her over and quickly did the same to her elbows, making them almost meet in back of her.
Erika then felt him unlock her cuffs, but her freedom was brief as he tied more rope around her fluttering hands. Again, he did the same with her ankles then forced her feet back and cinched them to her wrists in a tight hogtie. Lastly, the man tied a small rope over her mouth, forcing the rag to stay crammed in her mouth.
The brunette returned with the sign she had written. It looked close enough to Erika’s handwriting that it was scary:
“Closed due to an emergency. Will open tomorrow.”
Quickly the couple began to search the store. The brunette began with the box of books from the estate she hadn’t gone through yet and the man disappeared down one of the aisles, presumably to find the title if it had already been placed on the shelves. While they ignored her, Erika writhed on the floor, trying to find some kind of slack in her bonds. The man had done his job well, however, and Erika began to get sore from the effort.
“Enjoying yourself, dear?” the brunette asked, looking down at her captive.
Erika shook her head no and mewled into her gag.
“That is really too bad, really. You know, you look absolutely scrumptious lying there all bundled up. I would pay more attention to you, dear, but we have our client to consider.”
‘What did that mean!’ the thought screamed through Erika’s head.
The man came back to the woman, “It is not on the shelves.”
The man’s voice was the kind of deep, gravely voices one associated with mobsters save for the English accent.
The pair went to look at the boxes again not-too-carefully, throwing the books in a pile as they check the titles. Again, Erika struggled, causing her skirt to ride up her leg and revealing the top of her stocking. It was her modesty that stopped her from struggling more and enticing the pair to do more than robbing the store.
After whispering a bit, the man left out the back door and Ms. Roberts squatted down beside her captive.
“Erika, may I call you Erika? That is the name on your business listing.”
The bound woman just stared back at the brunette with her lagoon blue eyes, not moving.
“You have built quite a lovely store, Erika Adams: Proprietor. Probably took many years to build this sort of inventory, I suspect. And quite a number of pounds. . .I’m sorry, dollars. I travel so much sometimes I forget where I am. Where was I? Yes, there must be thousands of dollars in old books on these shelves. . .”
Just then, the man returned with a gasoline can in hand.
“. . .It would be a shame to see all these lovely volumes go up in flames. I am sure your are insured, but the money can’t replace that wonderful set of ‘Journeys Through Bookland’ sitting in that counter, now could it?”
Erika slowly nodded her head.
“Can you remember that scene in Fahrenheit 451 with all of those books going up in flame, Erika Adams?”
Again, Erika nodded her head. Inside her was tied up in gut-wrenching knots of fear and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to make everything go away.
“We can avoid all of that unpleasantness if you tell us where our client’s book is. Marx here is going to untie your gag and you are going to tell us where the book is. If you scream, dear, it will be the last sound you will ever make. Do I make myself clear?”
Terrified, Erika nodded.
“Good. Then we have come to an arrangement. Marx, would you be so kind as to un-gag Mrs. Erika Adams.”
The bound blonde felt the knot being untied behind her head the Marx unwound it from holding in the cloth. Not-to-gently, Marx then pulled the black cloth from out of Erika’s mouth.
“It’s at home,” Erika gasped, “Untie me and I will take you there to get it.”
Erika hardly got the words out before Marx shoved the cloth back into Erika’s mouth and retied the rope hold it in there, this time tighter than before. The nylon rope felt as if it was cutting into the sides of her mouth.
“Thank you, dear,” the brunette said, patting Erika on the head, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
The couple left Erika hogtied on the floor while they fetched Erika’s handbag and got out her keys and wallet. She watched them look at her driver’s license and write down the address as they consulted the yellow pages map. They whispered a few things to each other then the man grabbed the gasoline can and went out the back door, her keys in his hand.
Ms Roberts knelt down beside Erika again, “We are going on a little trip to your house, Erika, and you will be coming with us. It would be dangerous to leave you tied up like this here. Things happen. Now, I don’t want much fuss out of you. It is better for the both of us, dear.”
The brunette woman began to stroke her leather gloved fingers through Erika’s hair, almost lovingly.
“I can imagine your husband enjoys your many gifts, Erika, your quite an attractive woman. . .”
An icy dread began to trickle through Erika as she laid there bound, her hands squirming in their tight bonds trying to find some way of getting out of this.
The man came back, “Ready.”
“Here is the thing, dear Erika,” the woman said, “We are about to go so promise me that you won’t make a fuss.”
The bound blonde just stared wide-eyed at the woman.
“Promise me or I will leave you alone here with Marx.”
Erika nodded, sobbing into her gag. She still couldn’t twist her mind around what was happening to her. Together, the strangers picked her up off the floor and carried her to the back door and to the alley behind the store. There idling was her Buick and the trunk was already open. Quickly the couple set her inside and closed the trunk lid down, plunging her into darkness.
Once again, Erika struggle futilely at her bondage as she felt the car being driven. Even though it was a large trunk, Erika was beginning to feel very claustrophobic bound there in the dark.
She didn’t think that the couple would kill her. They would have done that already since they had everything they needed to get into her house and get their precious book. She had wished she had read that book last night to see what kind of book it was to drive someone do such a thing. She could see someone resorting to theft for a copy of Blake’s ‘Tales of innocence and experience’ or a first edition of Poe’s ‘Mystery and Imagination’, but she had never had even heard of this author nor the book.
Erika lived about a forty minute drive away in a new, comfortable suburb. It gave Erika plenty of time to try to affect an escape. She scooted around, feeling for anything to try to loosen or cut the cords binding her hands. She wished she had paid more attention to how the trunk was laid out and what was inside.
Then the car slowed, then stopped.
“They couldn’t have gotten there already,’ Erika thought to herself, ‘No, they couldn’t have.’
Then the car started up again only to drive the short distance into the garage. She heard the door open and the latch on the trunk pop open.
Erika looked up at the brunette, this time she was wearing a blonde wig.
“I am so glad you had a garage door opener, dear, it saved us from trying to sneak you in,” she smiled.
Erika looked around but she didn’t see the man.
“Don’t you worry, Erika Adams, Marx is letting himself in the front and soon will meet us her to take you inside,” the woman said, taking off her wig.
“For the neighbors, dear,” she said, “Behind the tinted glass you would really have to look to see that it wasn’t you. However, no one was peeking out their curtained little windows so we are all safe with our little secret.”
A few moments later, the bald-headed Marx appeared by her side. Without a word, he wrestled her out of the trunk and carried her inside, following the brunette.
“Let’s take her into the bedroom where she will be a bit more comfortable,” Erika heard the woman say as Marx took her through her living room and up the carpeted stairway, carrying her like a sack over his right shoulder.
The bedroom was one place Erika did not want to be put. The brunette’s words and her gentle caresses still echoed in her mind. The blonde yelled into her gag and shook her head as Marx continued to carry her.
“Now, now, dear. Everything will turn out as it is supposed to if you stop making a fuss,” Miss Roberts smiled as she followed Marx up the stairs, “So please, Erika Adams, please stop. . .”
Then the brunette leaned forward and whispered into the brunette’s ear, “. . .you are making my horny.”
Marx felt his squirming bundle stop squirming as he made his way through the bedroom doors. The master suite was large and dominated by a huge mission-style bed, a perfect place to put her while they searched for the book. The bed was high enough off of the floor that their captive would think twice before trying to wriggle her way off of it.
Marx carefully set the woman down while his partner crawled up in bed beside her.
“Home, sweet home dear,” the brunette smiled as she curled up facing Erika, “Now, Marx here is going to take that nasty gag out of your mouth again and you are going tell us exactly where you have put our client’s book. Any fuss and we may have to do things you may not enjoy. Do you understand that, dear Erika?”
Erika nodded her head. The sooner these people were out of her life, the better.
“That’s a good girl,” the brunette patted her on the head.
Once again, she felt the ropes around her head loosen and Marx extracted the black cloth. So took a minute to swallow before replying to the couple’s question.
“It is right beside you,” Erika said, “On my nightstand. Please let me. . .”
Marx pushed the cloth back into her mouth and retied the rope holding it in.
The brunette rolled over and looked and sure enough, there was the book; a small, burgundy leather bound book with its title embossed in gold leaf. It was an once-in-a-lifetime moment. Here it was, Dr. Geoffrey Brand’s manual for the husbands of his graduates. For decades, Dr. Brand hosted a training school for women second-to-none, teaching his wards submissiveness and the sexual arts not practiced on the continent. His time in India coupled with his concubine Indira made for a magical blend of ‘classes’ in his school. Within the covers of that book were basically how to treat your slave/wife including the riding-crop commands she was expected to obey. Only several hundred of these were ever produced, one for each ‘graduate’. And now she and Marx would have their own copy to use.
Quickly the brunette rolled off of the bed and picked up the small book. In her hands, it felt like the holy grail.
“Thank you, dear Erika, you do not know how much this means to our client,” the brunette turned back to the bound woman, “Now we have to prepare you for your husband’s return!”
It was the gleeful way the strange woman had said it that sent icy daggers through her gut. They had the book why wouldn’t they just go.
The brunette rolled Erika over onto her front while her partner undid her hogtie. After undoing the rope, the couple rolled Erika back over where the brunette climbed back into the bed and straddled the poor, bound woman.
Erika began to struggle anew as she felt the man’s hands reach and her skirt and unfastened its hooks. Erika bucked and squirmed as much as she could but it was in vain as she felt her skirt’s zipper being pulled down.
“Now, now, dear Erika, it isn’t what you think,” Miss Roberts said as she looked into Erika’s blue eyes and smiled, “Or maybe it is!”
Erika felt her skirt being pulled off over her bound legs. She now regretted this morning’s decision to wear her garter belt and stockings. Her black lace panties covered very little and was meant for her husband’s eyes only.
Looking behind her, the brunette grinned, “I see you dressed for the occasion.”
Erika felt the embers of her embarrassment flushing her skin red as she felt her suit jacket being unbuttoned slowly. The bound woman closed her eyes tightly as each button was slipped out of its hole. Erika also felt each of her shoes being taken off and cast aside.
Nearly every woman has had fantasies about being raped and Erika was no exception. Teenage dreams of pirates and gold and being bound and taken to far away lands fueled her dreams and choices of romance novels. Yet she had never taken it further than that and neither had her boyfriends or her husband. If they had fantasies, they kept them to themselves, unlike their hands.
Now Erika was in that taboo fantasy world as she wasn’t sure that she was liking it.
Erika felt her jacket being open up and she knew the buttons on her blouse would be next. Instead, she felt the brushing of the brunette’s fingertips over her breasts through the blouse, gently teasing at her nipples.
“Yes, I thought so dear, you are enjoying this a bit, aren’t you?” the brunette said.
Erika flushed from embarrassment again. The gentle caresses caused her nipples to stiffen and sent little sparks of pleasure swirling through her like fireflies. Slowly she felt the buttons of her blouse being undone as the brunettes warm fingertips traced over her skin.
The ropes around the statuesque blonde’s ankles loosened as Marx gently untied them, only the tie a loop around each of her ankles, drawn tight around one of the posts on either side of her footboard. The rope around her knees was next, cast away like her skirt.
Then Marx pulled on each of her ankle ropes, pulling her legs apart.
Erika began pleading into her gag and shaking her head.
“Quiet, my dear Erika, quiet,” the brunette whispered quietly as she continued to unbutton the bookseller’s silken blouse.
As her legs were stretched apart as far as they could go, the last button parted from its hole and the woman opened Erika’s blouse revealing the blonde’s large breasts and pale pink nipples stiff from the brunette’s attentions.
Erika felt the woman gently ease the blouse off of her shoulders along with her jacket. She then watched helplessly as the bald-headed man lifted her up into a sitting position and the woman put her arms around her to keep her there. Erika felt her elbow’s bonds being loosened and removed and her jacket and blouse pushed down her arms past her rope-sore elbows.
Then Marx retied them and then did the same with her wrists, pulling both her jacket and blouse off but instead of retying them, he forced them in front of her where the brunette grab a hold of each wrist.
“Now remember what I said about making a fuss,” the brunette said looking into Erika’s eyes.
Erika felt the ropes around her elbows part again and for a brief second she thought about fighting of this woman, but she knew she couldn’t with her legs still bound as they were. More than likely, it would end in a painful lesson so she didn’t struggle as Marx retied her wrists in front of her and pulled them over her head, forcing Erika to lay back onto the bed as he lashed her wrists to the slatted headboard until she could hardly move.
Again, Erika was struck by the fact that everything about this seemed smoothed and practiced, as if the couple had done this time and time again. She watched helplessly as Marx gathered up her clothes and left the bedroom.
Still straddling the blonde, the woman began to gently pinch Erika’s nipples, sending more warm flickers of pleasure sparking though her and causing her to moan quietly behind her gag.
“Now that we are alone,” the brunette whispered, “I just wanted to say how tempting you are, bound here on your bed. Now, where do you keep your marital aids, Erika Adams dear?”
Erika glanced briefly over at her nightstand before realizing what she had done.
“Thank you, dear.”
The brunette rolled off of the bound woman and opened the drawer. There was amongst the reading glasses and highlighters and flashlights a pair of vibrators and some lotions. Both vibes were of the battery operated kind that suited her just fine. Taking some K-Y, the brunette lubricated the vibrator generously before kneel between Erika’s spread legs.
Erika watched helplessly as her captor eased her lace panties over and spread her lips. She could feel the nudge of the vibrator as the brunette gently pushed it inside of her, making sure it was all the way in before putting Erika’s panties back in place.
“Now, dear, we will be leaving you, but,” the brunette turned on the vibrator on high, “but we will leave this to keep you company until your husband come home. I will write him a very sexy letter asking him to take every advantage of your situation until he has had his fill. Marx is leaving the trail of your clothes to lead him here and I can imagine it won’t take him long at all to enjoy your many treasures while you are a bit on the helpless side. By the time your romance is ending we will be very far away. So, Erika Adams, enjoy our little parting gift.”
With that, the brunette kissed Erika on the forehead and produced from the jacket pocket a black velvet scarf which she tied over the blonde’s eyes.
“Again, sweet dreams, Erika Adams.”
As the brunette left, she could a sworn she heard the bound woman moan as if in pleasure. Yes, her husband was in for the treat of his life.
-end-
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more of my writings, please e-mail me at FESSELN1@aol.com. Or visit my weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any and all comments are welcomed and appreciated.
Again, please feel free to comment or add your suggestions.
Take Care
T.S.
Anyway, enough said. Here is the beginnings of 'Speaking Volumes'
A GREAT VOLUME OF TROUBLE
T.S. FESSELN
Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any res to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depictions of sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below.
Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him at FESSELN1@aol.com. Or visit his weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged.
It was a perfect day for reading, at least, that is what Erika thought. Looking out of her used bookstore window at the gray drizzle that cloaked the morning, she thought it gave the old main street a forlorn Dickensian look. On a day like today,she could see herself curled up in her armchair with a Kay Hooper mystery and a glass of wine. Too bad nobody else this morning felt that same way. The drizzle seemed to keep everyone inside.
Erika was not what one would picture as a book dealer. Most pictured her as a quiet, librarian type with her hair up in a bun and an ugly pair of 1950’s glasses. No, Erika could have been a model if she had so wished. At six-foot, her lithe figure was as sleek as a giraffe and her long, ash-blonde hair and blue eyes helped finish her Valkerian good looks. Erika did wear glasses, but they were much more stylish and they were for reading only.
The bookseller always tried to dress smartly and today was no exception to her inner fashion model. She wore a tight ivory-colored blouse and grey suit jacket with a matching skirt that stopped just above her knees. Erika also felt a bit sexy today so instead of her normal pantyhose, she decided upon a pair of smoke-colored stockings and garter belt with a pair of black lace panties. There were days like today she liked to flaunt her womanhood and tonight she would make sure her husband would benefit from it.
The book-dealer’s chore for the day was going through the three boxes of books she had won at an estate auction. For the most part, they were turn-of-the-century volumes by Kipling, Twain and Stephenson. They had that wonderful old book smell to them and were in superb condition with only a little sun-fading to mar their gilded spines. There were several she hadn’t recognized the titles of, so she set them in a stack to research a bit later. She had also taken a few intriguing books home to read after her husband would call it a night. Like her, her husband had long hours in the field and was comfortably worn out by ten o’clock. Erika, on the other hand, couldn’t shut her eyes until at least midnight so those became her reading hours.
Erika was fully engrossed in grading a series of English history books when the bell chimed above the door. Coming in was an attractive couple both dressed in dark suits that screamed ‘professional’. The man was tall, carried a large satchel briefcase and filled his suit quite nicely. His head was bald and he sported a graying mustache and goatee. His companion was shorter brunette with alluring green eyes and a no nonsense look about her.
“May I help you?” Erika asked, stepping out from behind the counter.
“I certainly hope so,” the woman spoke with a slight English accent, “You purchased just recently a portion of the McQuade estate’s library?”
Red flags went up in Erika’s head.
“Yes,” the blonde answered cautiously.
The woman glanced at her partner before turning back to Erika, “Very good. There has been a mistake made when the estate was disposed of, mainly, several books that Mr. McQuade had borrowed from our client and had not returned to him before Mr. McQuade had passed.”
“I see,” Erika said, “And do you have a list of titles? I can set the volumes aside as I sort through and give you a call back if any are in my purchase.”
“Actually, there is only one title we have not tracked down yet, ‘The Care And Treatment Of Particularly Fair Women’ by Dr. Geoffrey Brand. Our client is eager to get that particular book back into his collection.”
Erika recalled immediately the book the woman was asking about. It was one that she had selected to take home and peruse. The title bemused her and she wanted to see what Dr. Brand had to say.
“Well, I will see what I can do but I have yet to go through these boxes. If you would like to leave a phone number I would gladly. . .”
“Quite frankly, we don’t have time,” the woman interrupted, “We are only here for a day or two before heading back to England. So if you would kindly go through these boxes now, we will wait and take the book when you get to it.”
Erika was starting to get a bit impatient with these two and her impatience was slowly starting to turn to anger.
“First of all, Ms. Ah. . .”
“Roberts,” the woman said.
“I really don’t have proof that that book is your clients. You will have to provide some way of showing that it is his,” Erika continued, “Second, I bought these books in good faith so if the volume you want is in here, I will gladly sell it to you for a fair price but not before I am ready to do so.”
The couple both looked a bit disturbed by this.
“I see,” the woman said as the man started towards the front door, “I am afraid we cannot provide any of the evidence of ownership you are looking for. . .”
Erika noticed the man turning the lock shut and flipping the open sign to closed.
“. . .and as for compensation for your purchase of the book, well, again, my client is very adamant about not having to purchase the book twice, since it cost him dearly the first time.”
Erika tried to keep her cool and slowly started to back towards the counter and the phone. She had no silent alarm and the alarm system she did have would require her to punch in several numbers and she didn’t think she would have time to do that before the couple was upon her. The phone at this point was her best option.
“Please see it from our client’s point of view,” the brunette continued, “It is his property and he has a right to get it back.”
“Is his name plate inside the book?” Erika asked, stalling as she continued to slowly back up.
The woman matched her step for step and the man was making his way towards her as well.
“My client didn’t say,” Miss Roberts said.
Erika turned and ran but the woman was prepared for just that and grabbed a hold of the bookstore owner. Erika turned and tried to pry the woman off when the man grabbed her as well, pinning her arms to her sides.
The blonde began to scream but the brunette produced a dark rag from her coat pocket and stuffed it quickly into her mouth as Erika kicked and struggled futilely. The pair then wrestled the blonde to the floor and pinned her there; taking her wrists and pinning them to her back.
The brunette, Miss Roberts, opened up the leather satchel that the man had brought in and brought out a pair of glinting handcuffs. In a wink, they had her wrists tightly locked behind her back. The same fate befell her ankles before they turned her over.
“We are sorry to have to do this, but we really do need that book,” the woman said, knelling down and brushing the stray blonde hairs out of Erika’s face.
The man went over and turned off the lights then whispered to the woman who nodded and went behind the counter and pulled out a pad of paper and a marker.
‘They had prepared for just this,’ Erika thought as she squirmed a bit on the floor trying to force her way out of the handcuffs.
The man knelt down beside the bound woman and pulled from the satchel a small coil of rope. Erika watched with morbid fascination as the man quickly tied her knees together, cinching them tight but not so much as to cut off her circulation. He rolled her over and quickly did the same to her elbows, making them almost meet in back of her.
Erika then felt him unlock her cuffs, but her freedom was brief as he tied more rope around her fluttering hands. Again, he did the same with her ankles then forced her feet back and cinched them to her wrists in a tight hogtie. Lastly, the man tied a small rope over her mouth, forcing the rag to stay crammed in her mouth.
The brunette returned with the sign she had written. It looked close enough to Erika’s handwriting that it was scary:
“Closed due to an emergency. Will open tomorrow.”
Quickly the couple began to search the store. The brunette began with the box of books from the estate she hadn’t gone through yet and the man disappeared down one of the aisles, presumably to find the title if it had already been placed on the shelves. While they ignored her, Erika writhed on the floor, trying to find some kind of slack in her bonds. The man had done his job well, however, and Erika began to get sore from the effort.
“Enjoying yourself, dear?” the brunette asked, looking down at her captive.
Erika shook her head no and mewled into her gag.
“That is really too bad, really. You know, you look absolutely scrumptious lying there all bundled up. I would pay more attention to you, dear, but we have our client to consider.”
‘What did that mean!’ the thought screamed through Erika’s head.
The man came back to the woman, “It is not on the shelves.”
The man’s voice was the kind of deep, gravely voices one associated with mobsters save for the English accent.
The pair went to look at the boxes again not-too-carefully, throwing the books in a pile as they check the titles. Again, Erika struggled, causing her skirt to ride up her leg and revealing the top of her stocking. It was her modesty that stopped her from struggling more and enticing the pair to do more than robbing the store.
After whispering a bit, the man left out the back door and Ms. Roberts squatted down beside her captive.
“Erika, may I call you Erika? That is the name on your business listing.”
The bound woman just stared back at the brunette with her lagoon blue eyes, not moving.
“You have built quite a lovely store, Erika Adams: Proprietor. Probably took many years to build this sort of inventory, I suspect. And quite a number of pounds. . .I’m sorry, dollars. I travel so much sometimes I forget where I am. Where was I? Yes, there must be thousands of dollars in old books on these shelves. . .”
Just then, the man returned with a gasoline can in hand.
“. . .It would be a shame to see all these lovely volumes go up in flames. I am sure your are insured, but the money can’t replace that wonderful set of ‘Journeys Through Bookland’ sitting in that counter, now could it?”
Erika slowly nodded her head.
“Can you remember that scene in Fahrenheit 451 with all of those books going up in flame, Erika Adams?”
Again, Erika nodded her head. Inside her was tied up in gut-wrenching knots of fear and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to make everything go away.
“We can avoid all of that unpleasantness if you tell us where our client’s book is. Marx here is going to untie your gag and you are going to tell us where the book is. If you scream, dear, it will be the last sound you will ever make. Do I make myself clear?”
Terrified, Erika nodded.
“Good. Then we have come to an arrangement. Marx, would you be so kind as to un-gag Mrs. Erika Adams.”
The bound blonde felt the knot being untied behind her head the Marx unwound it from holding in the cloth. Not-to-gently, Marx then pulled the black cloth from out of Erika’s mouth.
“It’s at home,” Erika gasped, “Untie me and I will take you there to get it.”
Erika hardly got the words out before Marx shoved the cloth back into Erika’s mouth and retied the rope hold it in there, this time tighter than before. The nylon rope felt as if it was cutting into the sides of her mouth.
“Thank you, dear,” the brunette said, patting Erika on the head, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
The couple left Erika hogtied on the floor while they fetched Erika’s handbag and got out her keys and wallet. She watched them look at her driver’s license and write down the address as they consulted the yellow pages map. They whispered a few things to each other then the man grabbed the gasoline can and went out the back door, her keys in his hand.
Ms Roberts knelt down beside Erika again, “We are going on a little trip to your house, Erika, and you will be coming with us. It would be dangerous to leave you tied up like this here. Things happen. Now, I don’t want much fuss out of you. It is better for the both of us, dear.”
The brunette woman began to stroke her leather gloved fingers through Erika’s hair, almost lovingly.
“I can imagine your husband enjoys your many gifts, Erika, your quite an attractive woman. . .”
An icy dread began to trickle through Erika as she laid there bound, her hands squirming in their tight bonds trying to find some way of getting out of this.
The man came back, “Ready.”
“Here is the thing, dear Erika,” the woman said, “We are about to go so promise me that you won’t make a fuss.”
The bound blonde just stared wide-eyed at the woman.
“Promise me or I will leave you alone here with Marx.”
Erika nodded, sobbing into her gag. She still couldn’t twist her mind around what was happening to her. Together, the strangers picked her up off the floor and carried her to the back door and to the alley behind the store. There idling was her Buick and the trunk was already open. Quickly the couple set her inside and closed the trunk lid down, plunging her into darkness.
Once again, Erika struggle futilely at her bondage as she felt the car being driven. Even though it was a large trunk, Erika was beginning to feel very claustrophobic bound there in the dark.
She didn’t think that the couple would kill her. They would have done that already since they had everything they needed to get into her house and get their precious book. She had wished she had read that book last night to see what kind of book it was to drive someone do such a thing. She could see someone resorting to theft for a copy of Blake’s ‘Tales of innocence and experience’ or a first edition of Poe’s ‘Mystery and Imagination’, but she had never had even heard of this author nor the book.
Erika lived about a forty minute drive away in a new, comfortable suburb. It gave Erika plenty of time to try to affect an escape. She scooted around, feeling for anything to try to loosen or cut the cords binding her hands. She wished she had paid more attention to how the trunk was laid out and what was inside.
Then the car slowed, then stopped.
“They couldn’t have gotten there already,’ Erika thought to herself, ‘No, they couldn’t have.’
Then the car started up again only to drive the short distance into the garage. She heard the door open and the latch on the trunk pop open.
Erika looked up at the brunette, this time she was wearing a blonde wig.
“I am so glad you had a garage door opener, dear, it saved us from trying to sneak you in,” she smiled.
Erika looked around but she didn’t see the man.
“Don’t you worry, Erika Adams, Marx is letting himself in the front and soon will meet us her to take you inside,” the woman said, taking off her wig.
“For the neighbors, dear,” she said, “Behind the tinted glass you would really have to look to see that it wasn’t you. However, no one was peeking out their curtained little windows so we are all safe with our little secret.”
A few moments later, the bald-headed Marx appeared by her side. Without a word, he wrestled her out of the trunk and carried her inside, following the brunette.
“Let’s take her into the bedroom where she will be a bit more comfortable,” Erika heard the woman say as Marx took her through her living room and up the carpeted stairway, carrying her like a sack over his right shoulder.
The bedroom was one place Erika did not want to be put. The brunette’s words and her gentle caresses still echoed in her mind. The blonde yelled into her gag and shook her head as Marx continued to carry her.
“Now, now, dear. Everything will turn out as it is supposed to if you stop making a fuss,” Miss Roberts smiled as she followed Marx up the stairs, “So please, Erika Adams, please stop. . .”
Then the brunette leaned forward and whispered into the brunette’s ear, “. . .you are making my horny.”
Marx felt his squirming bundle stop squirming as he made his way through the bedroom doors. The master suite was large and dominated by a huge mission-style bed, a perfect place to put her while they searched for the book. The bed was high enough off of the floor that their captive would think twice before trying to wriggle her way off of it.
Marx carefully set the woman down while his partner crawled up in bed beside her.
“Home, sweet home dear,” the brunette smiled as she curled up facing Erika, “Now, Marx here is going to take that nasty gag out of your mouth again and you are going tell us exactly where you have put our client’s book. Any fuss and we may have to do things you may not enjoy. Do you understand that, dear Erika?”
Erika nodded her head. The sooner these people were out of her life, the better.
“That’s a good girl,” the brunette patted her on the head.
Once again, she felt the ropes around her head loosen and Marx extracted the black cloth. So took a minute to swallow before replying to the couple’s question.
“It is right beside you,” Erika said, “On my nightstand. Please let me. . .”
Marx pushed the cloth back into her mouth and retied the rope holding it in.
The brunette rolled over and looked and sure enough, there was the book; a small, burgundy leather bound book with its title embossed in gold leaf. It was an once-in-a-lifetime moment. Here it was, Dr. Geoffrey Brand’s manual for the husbands of his graduates. For decades, Dr. Brand hosted a training school for women second-to-none, teaching his wards submissiveness and the sexual arts not practiced on the continent. His time in India coupled with his concubine Indira made for a magical blend of ‘classes’ in his school. Within the covers of that book were basically how to treat your slave/wife including the riding-crop commands she was expected to obey. Only several hundred of these were ever produced, one for each ‘graduate’. And now she and Marx would have their own copy to use.
Quickly the brunette rolled off of the bed and picked up the small book. In her hands, it felt like the holy grail.
“Thank you, dear Erika, you do not know how much this means to our client,” the brunette turned back to the bound woman, “Now we have to prepare you for your husband’s return!”
It was the gleeful way the strange woman had said it that sent icy daggers through her gut. They had the book why wouldn’t they just go.
The brunette rolled Erika over onto her front while her partner undid her hogtie. After undoing the rope, the couple rolled Erika back over where the brunette climbed back into the bed and straddled the poor, bound woman.
Erika began to struggle anew as she felt the man’s hands reach and her skirt and unfastened its hooks. Erika bucked and squirmed as much as she could but it was in vain as she felt her skirt’s zipper being pulled down.
“Now, now, dear Erika, it isn’t what you think,” Miss Roberts said as she looked into Erika’s blue eyes and smiled, “Or maybe it is!”
Erika felt her skirt being pulled off over her bound legs. She now regretted this morning’s decision to wear her garter belt and stockings. Her black lace panties covered very little and was meant for her husband’s eyes only.
Looking behind her, the brunette grinned, “I see you dressed for the occasion.”
Erika felt the embers of her embarrassment flushing her skin red as she felt her suit jacket being unbuttoned slowly. The bound woman closed her eyes tightly as each button was slipped out of its hole. Erika also felt each of her shoes being taken off and cast aside.
Nearly every woman has had fantasies about being raped and Erika was no exception. Teenage dreams of pirates and gold and being bound and taken to far away lands fueled her dreams and choices of romance novels. Yet she had never taken it further than that and neither had her boyfriends or her husband. If they had fantasies, they kept them to themselves, unlike their hands.
Now Erika was in that taboo fantasy world as she wasn’t sure that she was liking it.
Erika felt her jacket being open up and she knew the buttons on her blouse would be next. Instead, she felt the brushing of the brunette’s fingertips over her breasts through the blouse, gently teasing at her nipples.
“Yes, I thought so dear, you are enjoying this a bit, aren’t you?” the brunette said.
Erika flushed from embarrassment again. The gentle caresses caused her nipples to stiffen and sent little sparks of pleasure swirling through her like fireflies. Slowly she felt the buttons of her blouse being undone as the brunettes warm fingertips traced over her skin.
The ropes around the statuesque blonde’s ankles loosened as Marx gently untied them, only the tie a loop around each of her ankles, drawn tight around one of the posts on either side of her footboard. The rope around her knees was next, cast away like her skirt.
Then Marx pulled on each of her ankle ropes, pulling her legs apart.
Erika began pleading into her gag and shaking her head.
“Quiet, my dear Erika, quiet,” the brunette whispered quietly as she continued to unbutton the bookseller’s silken blouse.
As her legs were stretched apart as far as they could go, the last button parted from its hole and the woman opened Erika’s blouse revealing the blonde’s large breasts and pale pink nipples stiff from the brunette’s attentions.
Erika felt the woman gently ease the blouse off of her shoulders along with her jacket. She then watched helplessly as the bald-headed man lifted her up into a sitting position and the woman put her arms around her to keep her there. Erika felt her elbow’s bonds being loosened and removed and her jacket and blouse pushed down her arms past her rope-sore elbows.
Then Marx retied them and then did the same with her wrists, pulling both her jacket and blouse off but instead of retying them, he forced them in front of her where the brunette grab a hold of each wrist.
“Now remember what I said about making a fuss,” the brunette said looking into Erika’s eyes.
Erika felt the ropes around her elbows part again and for a brief second she thought about fighting of this woman, but she knew she couldn’t with her legs still bound as they were. More than likely, it would end in a painful lesson so she didn’t struggle as Marx retied her wrists in front of her and pulled them over her head, forcing Erika to lay back onto the bed as he lashed her wrists to the slatted headboard until she could hardly move.
Again, Erika was struck by the fact that everything about this seemed smoothed and practiced, as if the couple had done this time and time again. She watched helplessly as Marx gathered up her clothes and left the bedroom.
Still straddling the blonde, the woman began to gently pinch Erika’s nipples, sending more warm flickers of pleasure sparking though her and causing her to moan quietly behind her gag.
“Now that we are alone,” the brunette whispered, “I just wanted to say how tempting you are, bound here on your bed. Now, where do you keep your marital aids, Erika Adams dear?”
Erika glanced briefly over at her nightstand before realizing what she had done.
“Thank you, dear.”
The brunette rolled off of the bound woman and opened the drawer. There was amongst the reading glasses and highlighters and flashlights a pair of vibrators and some lotions. Both vibes were of the battery operated kind that suited her just fine. Taking some K-Y, the brunette lubricated the vibrator generously before kneel between Erika’s spread legs.
Erika watched helplessly as her captor eased her lace panties over and spread her lips. She could feel the nudge of the vibrator as the brunette gently pushed it inside of her, making sure it was all the way in before putting Erika’s panties back in place.
“Now, dear, we will be leaving you, but,” the brunette turned on the vibrator on high, “but we will leave this to keep you company until your husband come home. I will write him a very sexy letter asking him to take every advantage of your situation until he has had his fill. Marx is leaving the trail of your clothes to lead him here and I can imagine it won’t take him long at all to enjoy your many treasures while you are a bit on the helpless side. By the time your romance is ending we will be very far away. So, Erika Adams, enjoy our little parting gift.”
With that, the brunette kissed Erika on the forehead and produced from the jacket pocket a black velvet scarf which she tied over the blonde’s eyes.
“Again, sweet dreams, Erika Adams.”
As the brunette left, she could a sworn she heard the bound woman moan as if in pleasure. Yes, her husband was in for the treat of his life.
-end-
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more of my writings, please e-mail me at FESSELN1@aol.com. Or visit my weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any and all comments are welcomed and appreciated.
Again, please feel free to comment or add your suggestions.
Take Care
T.S.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
'Summer Project' Chapter 19 is on it's way
Yes, it is finally done and should be posted to various websites shortly:Gromet's Plaza 1 , GaggedUtopia's Story Archive and Storiesonline amoungst others. I have worked on 'A Work Of Art' a bit today as well.
Take care
T.S.
Take care
T.S.
Now just for the editing. . .
Chapter 19 of 'Summer Project' is done and is in the hands of a proof reader better than myself. When the corrected chapter returns and I make the necessary changes/corrections, it will be posted to the various websites that host my work.
I intend on working a little on both 'A Work Of Art' and 'Speaking Volumns'.
As always, take care,
T.S.
I intend on working a little on both 'A Work Of Art' and 'Speaking Volumns'.
As always, take care,
T.S.
Monday, June 22, 2009
In The Quiet Of The Morning
It is obvious by now that I didn't get chapter 19 of 'Summer Project' done. It is nearly complete and I am hoping that in the quiet of the morning tomorrow to complete it and send it off for proofing. I have also begun work on the location challenge and have the story outlined as well as the first page completed.
I am mostly disappointed in myself for not getting it completed. I can usually set deadlines for myself and complete them, but this weekend time seemed to slip through my fingers like so much sand. So tomorrow, when the first sunlight begins to spread through the house and the only sounds are the songs sung by birds and the occasional car starting for the commute to work, I hope to be plugging away on my computer to finally put to bed chapter 19 so it tasks me no more.
Then I will set my sights on finishing 'A Work Of Art' and all of it's endings.
Take care
T.S.
I am mostly disappointed in myself for not getting it completed. I can usually set deadlines for myself and complete them, but this weekend time seemed to slip through my fingers like so much sand. So tomorrow, when the first sunlight begins to spread through the house and the only sounds are the songs sung by birds and the occasional car starting for the commute to work, I hope to be plugging away on my computer to finally put to bed chapter 19 so it tasks me no more.
Then I will set my sights on finishing 'A Work Of Art' and all of it's endings.
Take care
T.S.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
The Mind Of Fesseln part D
As I finish up the latest chapter of 'Summer Project', I thought I would take a little bit of time about how I go about my thoughts on developing a character.
I hate cardboard cut-out characters. Granted, writing this stuff isn't high literature, but if you are going to put something out there for the public, you should make a decent effort to make the characters seem real. When I develop a character I keep in mind not only looks but also personality. Are they fun-loving? Grumpy and timid? What does a character like versus what they can't stand. For me, they are the story because without them, it is just an empty room.
When I make a character, I actually look at a specific model and try to describe them the way I see them. The personality develops from there and doesn't have to necessarily mesh with looks. A woman can be submissive or a tiger, depending on what the story needs. Adding little touches such as what they like to wear or their favorite smell makes the story believable.
So which character is your favorite or most memorible? Please let me know.
As I have said before, I am trying to finish up chapter 19 of 'Summer Project' so it can go on to the proof reader so I can get it posted by this weekend (with any luck).
Take care
T.S.
I hate cardboard cut-out characters. Granted, writing this stuff isn't high literature, but if you are going to put something out there for the public, you should make a decent effort to make the characters seem real. When I develop a character I keep in mind not only looks but also personality. Are they fun-loving? Grumpy and timid? What does a character like versus what they can't stand. For me, they are the story because without them, it is just an empty room.
When I make a character, I actually look at a specific model and try to describe them the way I see them. The personality develops from there and doesn't have to necessarily mesh with looks. A woman can be submissive or a tiger, depending on what the story needs. Adding little touches such as what they like to wear or their favorite smell makes the story believable.
So which character is your favorite or most memorible? Please let me know.
As I have said before, I am trying to finish up chapter 19 of 'Summer Project' so it can go on to the proof reader so I can get it posted by this weekend (with any luck).
Take care
T.S.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Okay, I have done it. I have joined the ranks of thousands that twitter. I guess that it is the best medium to try to have discussions at a later time or something like that. Perhaps even schedule a time for just that if any of you so desire. The name is T.S. Fesseln.
I am feeling much better now and I hope to complete Chapter 19 perhaps as soon as Sunday, but I don't want to push myself. But sometime next week I should have it completed.
Please feel free to comment and take the consensual vs non-consenual survey:Fesseln's Fiction September 2008. I have also updated the stories list.
My next major project is finishing 'A Work Of Art' and all of it's endings so you can choose which one you like the best.
As always, take care
T.S.
I am feeling much better now and I hope to complete Chapter 19 perhaps as soon as Sunday, but I don't want to push myself. But sometime next week I should have it completed.
Please feel free to comment and take the consensual vs non-consenual survey:Fesseln's Fiction September 2008. I have also updated the stories list.
My next major project is finishing 'A Work Of Art' and all of it's endings so you can choose which one you like the best.
As always, take care
T.S.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Even the best laid plans. . .
Well, I had meant to finish up chapter 19 of 'Summer Project', but one of the most insidious things on the planet has gotten to me, the summer cold. So, the odds are not favorable that I will complete it by this weekend. But who knows, between bouts of coughing and sneezing I may pull it off. But, I thought it better that you should know now and not be disappointed come this weekend.
Take care
T.S.
Take care
T.S.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Sequels
I have received various feedbacks concerning 'sequels' to stories I have written recently, chiefly 'Bounding Main' and 'Walking The Line'. Both lend themselves easily to follow-up stories, but as I pointed out earlier, time is limited. If I were to do one after finishing the sequel to 'Maid Requested', which of the two stories would you like to see a sequel to: 'Bounding Main' or 'Walking The Line'?
I will work on finishing up Chapter 19 of 'Summer Project' tomorrow and hopefully post it this weekend.
take care
T.S.
I will work on finishing up Chapter 19 of 'Summer Project' tomorrow and hopefully post it this weekend.
take care
T.S.
Friday, June 05, 2009
The Mind Of Fesseln part D
Time. That is why it takes so long to see a story or chapter come to fruition. On average, when given a block of time that is not consumed with chores around the house, I write about 1/2 a page an hour. Of course, that is the actual writing. When doing stories like 'On French Soil' or 'Bounding Main', there is a certain amount of research that goes on as well. In 'Bounding Main', even though I have sailed, I have never sailed the size of boat in the story nor have I ever sailed on Lake Mead. So in order to make the story credible, I had to do a little research.
Stories like 'Summer Project' tend to take less time researching, but occasionally I will place characters in situations that I myself have not experienced so I rely of what experiences other people have had. Long stories like 'Summer Project' also have outlines, a skeleton, on which to build the story so it has continuity of plot.
I have started 'Speaking Volumns', the first of the setting challenges and have started getting Chapter 19 done of 'Summer Project'.
Please feel free to add settings and make comments.
Take care
T.S.
Stories like 'Summer Project' tend to take less time researching, but occasionally I will place characters in situations that I myself have not experienced so I rely of what experiences other people have had. Long stories like 'Summer Project' also have outlines, a skeleton, on which to build the story so it has continuity of plot.
I have started 'Speaking Volumns', the first of the setting challenges and have started getting Chapter 19 done of 'Summer Project'.
Please feel free to add settings and make comments.
Take care
T.S.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
The Bounding Main
Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depictions of sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below.Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him at FESSELN1@aol.com. Or visit his weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged.
Spring fever had hit Gina hard. Nights in Las Vegas were still on the cool side and the prospect of spending some time at Lake Mead on their 25 foot Catalina sailboat was intoxicating. Stephen had sprung the idea on her a few days ago and they decided a weekend on the water was just the thing to prep for the coming summer. For days that was all that Gina focused on.
At 4:00 in the morning, both Gina and Stephen rolled out of bed and after a quick shower and breakfast, they started to get ready for the short trip out to the Lake Mead Marina.
Gina was a sun worshiper bar none and she found herself trying on a few of her swimsuits to get into the mood. The one she had on now was a daring bright blue string bikini that covered very little and that suited Gina just fine. She was a slender five-foot nothing with natural ash blonde hair that she kept in a pageboy cut. Gina posed in front of the mirror not noticing her husband of eleven years had stepped into the bedroom.
“You look stunning,” her husband said as he locked his large arms around her and gave her a warm hug.
“Good, that was the look I was hoping for,” she smiled as she turned and looked up into her husband’s crystal blue eyes and grinning freckled face.
“Got everything packed?” he asked after giving her a peck on her forehead.
“Almost, and you?” Stephen smiled, “Just one or two more things then we are on the road.”
“Well, you better get started. You know how crowded the ramp gets Fridays. That’s why we woke up at this ungodly hour so we can beat that crowd.”
“You’re right, honey,” he said as he scooped her up and threw her unto their bed and climbed on top of her.
“Hey, cut it out! We don’t have time for this!” Gina screamed as her six-foot, two-hundred pound all-muscle husband pinned her to the bed.
Stephen grinned his metal-melting grin, “I am just finishing the packing.”
Gina’s dark brown eyes widened, “Oh no. . .no you don’t.”
But it was too late. Stephan had already hidden some ropes beside their bed and quickly grabbed a couple of coils before rolling his wife onto her front. Pinning her wrists as she bucked and squirmed, Stephen quickly crossed them and lashed them together.
“Come on, Stephen, stop it,” she pleaded as she laughed, “really!”
Stephen did not ‘stop it’. Gina hadn’t given their safe word yet which meant she was enjoying this as much as he. Stephen knew deep down inside that Gina probably expected some sort of play during their weekend trip, but probably not so soon. Besides, she had it coming by wearing that tiny little blue bikini. Gina’s ankles were next as he lashed them together, tickling the soles of her feet when she struggled too much. Squeals of laughter filled their bedroom as tied more rope around her knees, cinching them tightly together. When he was done, he rolled his wife back over and positioned himself over her, looking into her dark-brown eyes.
“Are you going to behave or am I going to have to gag you?” Stephen asked.
The petite blonde smiled back, “What do you think, my love?”
For the most part, Gina loved being gagged. It was like she was a bottle of Pepsi being shaken up and the gag was the lid; keeping all that fizzy goodness inside. Her husband opened their nightstand drawer and dangled a black leather penis gag above her.
“Open wide,” Stephen said.
Gina smiled, locked her mouth shut and shook her head no.
“You are going to make this hard, aren’t you?”
Gina nodded.
That was all it took. Stephen dug is fingers in and tickled her ribs, causing another scream of laughter to erupt out of his wife. Quickly, he pushed the gag into her mouth before she recovered and buckled it snugly behind her neck. The leather part of the gag covered her mouth completely and the penis portion of the gag made sure the best she could muster was a whinny grunt.
“Now we are packed. Is that the bag you were planning on taking?” Stephen asked about the large athletic bag at the end of the bed.
Gina nodded. For the most part, she had all of her essentials packed. All she really had left was the swimsuits she was trying to decide upon. They were always the hardest for Gina to decide upon as her collection of swimsuits rivaled anything else in her closet, including their bondage gear.
“Let me get this stowed on the boat and then we’ll get you comfortable for the drive out to the lake.”
With that, Stephen zipped-up her bag and carried it out of the room.
Gina writhed a bit on her bonds, testing their effectiveness. As usual, her husband did a remarkable job of making her helpless. There was no slack in any of the ropes and the gag was buckled solidly over her mouth. . .it was a delicious feeling. The more the blonde squirmed the hornier she got. She closed her eyes and imagined what Stephen would do to her after they got on the boat.
“Did you remember your suntan lotion?”
Stephen question interrupted her lascivious thoughts and she looked at him with her bedroom eyes. Right now she didn’t give a damn about being late or where the suntan lotion was. All she really needed from her husband was for him to take her now. He sat down on the bed beside her and to her delight, began playing with her pierced nipples through the swimsuit fabric, sending a spray of pleasure through her entire body.
“Did you?” he asked, stopping his attentions and looking her in the eye.
Gina moaned her displeasure and then nodded. Her suntan lotion was in her bag.
“Did you remember to bring any toys?” Stephen smiled, running his warm hand over the flat of her stomach.
The bound blonde did indeed remember some of her toys, including a vibrator that she was particularly fond of; a neon purple one with a smaller egg vibrator that would rest against her clit. It would drive her into orgasm again and again. A pair of leather cuffs, padlocks, a leather collar and a ballgag finished up the list. She had never been a scout, but she was always was prepared on their little trips.
“Good girl. I knew there was a reason why I married you. Now it’s time to get you settled so we can get on our way.”
With very little effort, Stephen picked his wife up and put her over his shoulder. At a solid six foot, there was really very little Gina could do anyway. She was the one who showed him what ropes were really for and he took to tying her up like a duck to water. He carried her squirming bikini-clad form through the house and outside to the driveway.
The sun was just starting to brighten the night and Gina felt a cool breeze caress her as her husband carried her to the boat outside. The Catalina was a large sailboat that could sleep four comfortably and had a small kitchen and a head. The boat on its trailer towered above her as he set her down. An a-frame ladder was beside it so Stephen could get the boat prepped and their stuff stowed aboard. Making sure the ladder was steady, Stephen picked up his bound wife and carried her carefully up the ladder, carefully setting her on the stern and swinging her legs over into the cockpit. As soon as he saw that she was steady, he climbed aboard himself and started to carry her down into the cabin.
Whack!
Stephen cussed as he hit his head on the cabin door. The trouble with being a well-built six foot man was that sailboats weren’t designed with him in mind. Every trip he banged his head at least once. Stephen continued to cuss as Gina laughed behind her gag.
Awkwardly, Stephen maneuvered her into the cabin and onto one of the two padded settees along the side. Carefully, he laid her down.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he smiled.
The joke was an ancient one for her but one that she never was tired of hearing. It was nearly as good as ‘I love you’ For Gina. The cabin was dark save for what little light came in from the open cabin door and the small portholes lining the top of the cabin. Gina and her husband had just refurbished the cabin a couple years ago, redoing the woodwork and brightware throughout. A small electric refrigerator replaced the space for the cooler and they had installed many small cleats even to places that would normally not have them.
It didn’t take long for Gina’s husband to reappear, this time with a small bag of his own as well as several coils of rope.
“Now, I don’t want you to get hurt,” Stephan said as he uncoiled one of the pieces of rope, “So get comfortable.”
Gina nestled the best she could into the padded bench. Stephen then gradually wove a web of rope around her, practically welding her to the bench. With every rope pressing against her skin and with every brief touch of her husband’s fingers as he cocooned her to the bench, she could feel the familiar erotic warmth spreading inside of her and she couldn’t do anything about it.
Stephen sat back and admired his handiwork and his wife, whose lithe body was writhing and whose eyes pleaded to release her in the way no knife could.
Once again, he played with Gina’s nipples through her top, sending more whorls of pleasure into her seething Eros. She closed her eyes and let the passion swirl over her, moaning into her gag.
Then he stopped.
Gina opened her eyes and looked into those of her husband.
“No, not yet, not until we get onto the water,” he grinned, “but I have something to keep you occupied until we get there.”
From his bag her husband pulled out a small egg vibrator with a cord and small clip-on box. She recognized it as one of their remote-controlled ones that he enjoyed tormenting her with. She shook her head no and pleaded into her gag, but she knew what she wanted made little difference now. Slowly he pulled down the bottom of her bikini until her cleanly shaven puss was exposed. Slowly, he eased his finger between her swollen lips and began to caress her moistened slit, massaging her desire until her hips began to buck up to meet his touch, wanting him to go deeper. Stephen then eased the vibrator inside her, stopping when it was fully inside and nothing but the thin black cord showed. He quickly pulled her bikini back up and gently caressed her hair.
“It’s okay, honey, I promise I won’t turn it on too much. I wouldn’t want to spoil what is to come.”
Gina mewled into her gag as her husband got up and climbed out of the cabin, shutting the door behind him. She both loathed and loved this kind of torment. Sometimes he would keep her on edge for hours, taunting her with his fingers, tongue and toys until she thought she would go insane with lust. But finally he would let her cum and cum she did, again and again until she drained every last ounce of energy out of herself and she lay in an angelic comatose state; awaiting to be freed on her bonds.
The movement of the boat awoke her from her lascivious daydream as Stephan pulled out of their driveway and out onto the open road. The trailer on which the sailboat was cradled didn’t have much in terms of shock absorbers, so she felt as if every pothole and crack was aimed at her discomfort to the point where she couldn’t get into her sub-space.
Then her vibrator turned on.
It was like a high-pressure jet of pure bliss shooting through her entire being. Gina bucked against the ropes as the vibe hummed, moaning into her gag and feeling the rushing tide of an orgasm seething within her. Pinned to the bench, she could only enjoy the vibrators caress, not help it. She knew she was on the brink waiting to be swallowed in ecstasy.
Then the vibe stopped.
Gina screamed her frustration into her gag. So close. Stephen wasn’t even beside her and he seemed to know just when to stop. She opened her eyes and looked about the cabin. There it was; a battery operated baby monitor. She was sure that Stephen was listening at the other end. Well two could play at this little game.
Gina tried to focus on something else, like what they were going to have for lunch. They had stocked the boat well and the bound blonde started to mentally go down the grocery list of stuff crammed into the small pantry and fridge.
The vibe started up again.
Gina tried to keep her moans to a minimum as the pleasure washed through her again. This time she would try to be silent and fool him into keeping the vibrator going until it was too late to prevent her from cumming. It was going to be hard. Gina had always been a noisy lover and Stephen enjoyed that. Even gagged, she could still make herself heard, but not intelligibly. As the buzz of the vibrator continued inside her, she continued thrusting herself against the ropes and kept her moans to soft mewls. Gina was rushing to her climax as the bliss crashed inside her; threatening to engulf her. Closer. . .closer. . .
The vibe stopped.
Again Gina screamed her irritation through her gag. She knew that her bikini was now wet and the incense of her desire filled the small cabin and there was nothing to stop her husband from continuing to torture her.
Stephen smiled while listening to her frustrated whimpers. The baby monitor was more sensitive then Gina knew. From years of marriage, he knew all of her signs of a coming orgasm, including her rapid pants then suddenly holding her breath. When the panting started, that’s when you stopped your attentions.
Although the trip was a short one, Gina thought it was hours. The slowing of the trailer and then the several stops meant that they had arrived at the marina’s ramp. Slowly Stephen backed the boat into the water until he couldn’t back the Durango back any further.
The sun was just beginning to spread it’s golden fingers over the lake, burning everything to the color of molten bronze. Stephen climbed aboard and started to throw over the mooring lines.
“Need some help,” a man that was prepping his powerboat called out.
“Sure,” Stephen replied.
“Sort of a big boat for one person,” the man said as Stephen threw him the line and draped over the foam fenders.
“She’s designed to be handled by one man. The Catalina is a wonderful boat to just go out and relax or to race around the lake.”
Gina continued to hear the men maneuver the boat out of its trailer and into the lake. The sounds of slapping water and the creaks of its hull were welcome as she felt the boat finally drift away from the trailer.
“Do you mind watching her while I park the truck?” Gina heard Stephen ask.
“No, I don’t mind at all,” the stranger replied.
Gina froze as she heard the stranger climb aboard. She was a hatchway or porthole away from being discovered, tied up and wearing practically nothing. Then the vibrator turned on. The blonde fought down a moan as her humming phallus continued to tease a wave of pleasure through her. The fear of being seen like this only added to the churning bliss spreading through her. She fought against her climax as hard as she fought against her ropes, but she was rapidly losing her battle. She knew how hard she would cry out once she came and she knew the stranger would hear her.
“Thanks, I can rig her up from here. Don’t want to keep you from your weekend,” Stephen said.
“Don’t mention it.” With that, the stranger left.
Then Stephen turned off the vibrator and began getting the mast up and the sails rigged. He could hear his with pleading to do something with her but he concentrated on getting the sailboat ready. Finally everything was set other than hoisting the sail and jib, Stephen undid the lines and turned on the outboard motor to get them away from the slip and past the breakers to the open water of the lake.
It was a beautiful and alien landscape of burnt browns, reds and tans. Lake Mead was pretty much just rock and water with little in the way of foliage. The sky was beginning to burn a bright blue and Stephen knew it was time to bring up his wife to enjoy it as well.
The morning sun poured through the cabin door as Stephen climbed down. Gina was now hornier than ever and as Stephen began to untie the ropes holding her to the bench, she tried to press herself against him, writhing in hopes of getting him to finish what he had started within her.
“Do you want to cum?” her husband asked as he pulled away the last of her bench restraints.
Gina nodded, moaning into her gag and twisting her bound body enticingly
.
“Okay, I am going to untie you briefly until we can get you to the foredeck. After that, you must let me tie you again or I will not play with you at all for the rest of the weekend and your favorite vibe will be deep sixed. Understood?”
Gina nodded again. “Oh, the gag stays in.”
Gina nodded with agreement.
Stephen quickly untied both her knees and ankles, carefully coiling up the pieces of rope as he undid them. Then, sitting Gina up, he undid her wrists. Gina rubbed them a bit, bringing back some of the circulation lost laying on them during the trip to here.
“I suggest you use the head before we go out on deck. When you are ready, come on out and bring a beach towel. I’ll be waiting on you.”
Stephen went back out and Gina took his advice and relieved herself before going up. She broke one rule though, she undid her gag just long enough to take several gulps of cool bottled water before fastening the gag back on as tightly as Stephen had it before.
Gina could tell as she stepped out of the cabin that it was going to be a gorgeous, cloudless day. There was just a slight breeze as Stephen let the boat drift a bit. He hadn’t put up the sails yet, he had other things to rig first. He set the rudder and dropped the keel board as Gina gingerly made her way forward, sitting down in front of the cabin. Stephen joined her with several ropes in hand. Stephen took the blanket from her and spread it across the foredeck and helped his wife onto it, facing the bow. Taking her hands, he tied her wrists together in front of her, making sure to cinch them tight before pulling her arms above her head and anchoring them to the mast. When he was sure that she couldn’t reach the knots, he tied her ankles together similarly and stretched her out towards the bow and tied her ankles off on the stanchion there.
“Comfy,” her husband asked.
Gina smiled, her whole face lighting up.
“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.”
When her husband returned, he had her suntan lotion in hand. Gina squealed as he poured the cold oil onto the flat of her stomach. Slowly, Stephen massaged the oil in, covering every bit of her, from head to toes until she glistened like a bronze statue.
“You know, honey, you’re going to have some interesting tan lines,” Stephen pointed out with a smile.
Gina laughed through her gag.
The last thing Stephen did was put Gina’s straw sunhat on her and placed a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. They looked ordinary enough but her husband had painted them black, making a blindfold out of them.Gina writhed, luxuriating in the suns warm touch and the ropes that held her prisoner there. She felt his fingers flick at her nipple rings, send another spurt of bliss shooting through her. The blonde’s moans began anew as his fingers worked their magic on her body. Slowly his fingertips traced down until they reached the hem of her bikini panties. He eased his fingers inside and began to caress her moistened slit, slowly working up and down; careful not to touch her swollen pearl.
Then he turned on the vibe.
Gina arched her body as her husband tickled at her clit. Her denied climax roared through her, engulfing her in a crashing wave of white hot pleasure. She bucked and thrashed in her bonds as wave after erotic wave drowned her until she collapsed, drained.
She heard the sails being hoisted and the boat beginning to move briskly over the lake. The vibe was quiet now but Gina knew all too well that it could awaken at any time and the cycle of torment would begin again, and this evening she would repay him for this by being his willing slave.
-end-
'The Bounding Main'
"The Bounding Main' is completed and should be posted on various websites shortly. I am planning on posting it here as well with in the next day or so.
My next project is to complete Chapter 19 of 'Summer Project' within the next week or so and go on to one of the settings that you have asked me to do. At this point, with so few settings posted, I will attempt to do all of them. That may change if more of you post settings that you would like to see.
Take care
T.S.
My next project is to complete Chapter 19 of 'Summer Project' within the next week or so and go on to one of the settings that you have asked me to do. At this point, with so few settings posted, I will attempt to do all of them. That may change if more of you post settings that you would like to see.
Take care
T.S.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
The Mind Of Fesseln part C.2
June is an erotic month. All those weddings taking place and spring still lingers in the air (not to mention all those honeymoons). So far this June has been a bit on the rainy side here but being trapped indoors can be fun too.
As sort of a challenge to myself and perhaps some fun as well, I propose some of you readers give me a setting and I will write a story to fit it. It can be anything from an abandon gas station to a crowded city park during lunch. I will randomly pick one to place a story in. You can also choose whether it is consensual or not.
The bigger the selection, the better. So please don't hesitate to voice what setting you would like a story to take place in.
As always, take care
T.S.
As sort of a challenge to myself and perhaps some fun as well, I propose some of you readers give me a setting and I will write a story to fit it. It can be anything from an abandon gas station to a crowded city park during lunch. I will randomly pick one to place a story in. You can also choose whether it is consensual or not.
The bigger the selection, the better. So please don't hesitate to voice what setting you would like a story to take place in.
As always, take care
T.S.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
In The Mind Of Fesseln Part C
As I finish up 'The Bounding Main', I thought I would share a little of my philosophy on writing, at least talk about what things are important to me when I write.
One of the first things I consider important is setting. It isn't enough for me to be introduced to the characters, I also want to place those characters on a stage; give them somewhere to interact. When I first started writing I found that I was focused on the characters and the acts they were doing. I described techniques but not placing them in a context of where they were at. I have found that, for me, describing the place is as important as the character or the acts.
'The Gift' is a story I started with a setting, a very snowy day in the Midwest. I started by describing the scene and the story flowed from there. In stories such a 'The Masque' and 'A New Haunt', setting is absolutely essential to the plot, without the setting the story would be as vacant as the Arctic.
I try to view what is going on in the story as if I am a camera lens. If I don't describe it how will others see it in their mind's eye?
Take care and look for 'The Bounding Main' sometime in the next week or two.
T.S.
One of the first things I consider important is setting. It isn't enough for me to be introduced to the characters, I also want to place those characters on a stage; give them somewhere to interact. When I first started writing I found that I was focused on the characters and the acts they were doing. I described techniques but not placing them in a context of where they were at. I have found that, for me, describing the place is as important as the character or the acts.
'The Gift' is a story I started with a setting, a very snowy day in the Midwest. I started by describing the scene and the story flowed from there. In stories such a 'The Masque' and 'A New Haunt', setting is absolutely essential to the plot, without the setting the story would be as vacant as the Arctic.
I try to view what is going on in the story as if I am a camera lens. If I don't describe it how will others see it in their mind's eye?
Take care and look for 'The Bounding Main' sometime in the next week or two.
T.S.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
An End To The Challenge. . .
I want to first thank all of you that have posted. It is nice to hear from readers and what they like and what they want to see continue. I encourage all of you to continue posting comments about story plots and what you would like to see and what you didn't care for. Criticism is welcome as well.
A few of you mentioned 'A Work Of Art'. Simmering on the back burner is the second part to the story. The problem is that I have about six possible endings to the story and have had trouble deciding which to go with. I have played with the idea of posting all of the possible endings here and on Gromet's website and letting the readers decide which ending they like best. Is that something you would like to see?
The next completed story will be 'Bounding Main' and will feature a pair of characters first introduced in the story 'Away In The Manger.' The outline is also completed for Chapter 19 of 'Summer Project' and the first stages of the second 'book' are starting to take form.
It is sort of odd that my favorite storyline has not made it into anyone's comments. 'On French Soil' captures quite a bit of what I strive for in a storyline. I hope the second 'book' for 'Summer Project' will do the same.
Please do not stop the comments from coming. They are valuable in determining what direction my writings take.
Take care
T.S.
A few of you mentioned 'A Work Of Art'. Simmering on the back burner is the second part to the story. The problem is that I have about six possible endings to the story and have had trouble deciding which to go with. I have played with the idea of posting all of the possible endings here and on Gromet's website and letting the readers decide which ending they like best. Is that something you would like to see?
The next completed story will be 'Bounding Main' and will feature a pair of characters first introduced in the story 'Away In The Manger.' The outline is also completed for Chapter 19 of 'Summer Project' and the first stages of the second 'book' are starting to take form.
It is sort of odd that my favorite storyline has not made it into anyone's comments. 'On French Soil' captures quite a bit of what I strive for in a storyline. I hope the second 'book' for 'Summer Project' will do the same.
Please do not stop the comments from coming. They are valuable in determining what direction my writings take.
Take care
T.S.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Creation Challenge
It has been a short time since I last talked about comments and since then,very few of you have actually responded. I can tell from the counter many of you have visited the blog and have read my views and stories and news about up coming chapters. I am currently working on chapter 19 of 'Summer Project', a story of a Vampire, a bondage/sailing tale and the sequel to 'Maid Service Requested'. All of these I have worked on in the last week. So here's the deal. I will be stopping work on all of these plus others until I get at least 20 comments from new people. I know it sounds like an NPR donation drive but part of why I created this blog is to have a little interaction from it's readers. So take the consensual vs. non-consensual survey ( September 2008), post your thoughts on how ludicrous this post really is or tell me where you would like to see your favorite story to go. I hope to hear from you soon so I can get started again on some stories.
T.S.
T.S.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
In The Mind Of Fesseln part B
Some of you may wonder if I do any of the things posted in my stories and the answer to that question is yes. Without going into great detail, the women I have been blessed to share that part of my life with all enjoyed some aspect or all aspects of it. Some of the scenes written in my stories reflect those experiences and rememberances.
Bondage has been part of my sexual life since I began having one in college (yes, I was a late starter). I have always took the safe and sane route because a willing partner is too precious to injure. Trust is the key that allows you to lock that lock.
Some aspects I have asked about from others either in the business or participants of acts that I have no desire to preform. This gives me an idea of how people feel in scenes that I write that I have not experienced myself with a loving partner.
As to stories, I am currently working on the sequel to 'Maid Service Requested' and should be completed in the next couple of weeks. As always, please feel free to leave your comments.
Take care
T.S.
Bondage has been part of my sexual life since I began having one in college (yes, I was a late starter). I have always took the safe and sane route because a willing partner is too precious to injure. Trust is the key that allows you to lock that lock.
Some aspects I have asked about from others either in the business or participants of acts that I have no desire to preform. This gives me an idea of how people feel in scenes that I write that I have not experienced myself with a loving partner.
As to stories, I am currently working on the sequel to 'Maid Service Requested' and should be completed in the next couple of weeks. As always, please feel free to leave your comments.
Take care
T.S.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Chapter 18 of Summer Project posted
The latest chapter of 'Summer Project' is currently en route to various websites for posting. If you cannot find it, please let me know and I will direct you where you can find it.
T.S.
T.S.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
'Summer Project Chapter 18'
Chapter 18 of 'Summer Project' is completed and now is being proofread by someone other than myself. As soon as it is sent back to me, I will post it to various sites. Hopefully this will be posted before the weekend. Now to go and get a few household chores done.
T.S.
T.S.
Monday, May 11, 2009
In The Mind Of Fesseln Part A
A few of you have written me about how I write. I figured I would let you glance into the warped and jellified brain of T.S. and how I go about the writing process in a series of little blogs. Todays lesson is coming up with an idea.
Most of my ideas start with the title for the story. Very rarely do I start a piece without coming up with a title. In fact, my computer is filled with partially completed stories that have a working title and a few paragraphs attached to it. 'Walking The Line' is just such a story. It came to me when listening to that old Johnny Cash song and putting a perverted twist on it.
Longer stories, like 'Summer Project', the concept just sort of came to me. I knew where I wanted the story to go and the points I had to get to to get it there. So nestled in this computer of mine is a general outline of the story.
Some stories I start don't seem to go anywhere and grind to a halt. I know what I want to do but the concept just slows to a mere trickle. Those I keep on the back burner and I will revisit them from time to time. When looking at my list of stories:Fesseln's Fiction: August 2008, you see a few titles as 'In Progress'. These stories have more than a few pages written and I hope to complete them in the near future.
A few stories are for people that have sent in their ideas or have a desire for me to write a story for them. 'Seperate Vacation' and 'Cherry On Top' are two such stories that have come to be this way. There are several stories I have written for others that I have not published for various reasons but may reveal themselves later, with the names changed to protect the guilty.
For you 'Summer Project' fans, another chapter is nearing completion and I hope to have it completed soon.
As always, feel free to leave comments.
T.S.
Most of my ideas start with the title for the story. Very rarely do I start a piece without coming up with a title. In fact, my computer is filled with partially completed stories that have a working title and a few paragraphs attached to it. 'Walking The Line' is just such a story. It came to me when listening to that old Johnny Cash song and putting a perverted twist on it.
Longer stories, like 'Summer Project', the concept just sort of came to me. I knew where I wanted the story to go and the points I had to get to to get it there. So nestled in this computer of mine is a general outline of the story.
Some stories I start don't seem to go anywhere and grind to a halt. I know what I want to do but the concept just slows to a mere trickle. Those I keep on the back burner and I will revisit them from time to time. When looking at my list of stories:Fesseln's Fiction: August 2008, you see a few titles as 'In Progress'. These stories have more than a few pages written and I hope to complete them in the near future.
A few stories are for people that have sent in their ideas or have a desire for me to write a story for them. 'Seperate Vacation' and 'Cherry On Top' are two such stories that have come to be this way. There are several stories I have written for others that I have not published for various reasons but may reveal themselves later, with the names changed to protect the guilty.
For you 'Summer Project' fans, another chapter is nearing completion and I hope to have it completed soon.
As always, feel free to leave comments.
T.S.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Comments on Comments
I don't usually get up on a soapbox like this, but I just wanted to say a few words about leaving comments to authors, whether it is for my own works or for someone else's. Nearly all of us who post stories on various forums are not getting paid for it. There is alot of time and effort put into these stories that are posted so the only compensation that we recieve is comments from our readers. I know I enjoy reading the opinions and suggestions of my readers. So please, take a moment and write something because the author on the other end will appreciate it.
T.S.
T.S.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Walking The Line
Sometimes a story just comes to you and you have to write it. 'Walking The Line' is just that kind of story. It has been quite some time since I last did a self-bondage piece, so writing it was sort of a refreshing breather. I have posted it here as well as sending it off to various websites. Please enjoy and give me any comments you wish.
WALKING THE LINE
T.S. FESSELN
Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depictions of sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below.
Even though Amber looked peaceful resting on her deck chair, she was anything but. The blonde felt as if every nerve inside of her was a live, sparking wire. She was planning another adventure tonight after the sun had set and the blues and purples of twilight had taken over her back yard. She had everything she needed in a canvas tote beside her; handcuffs, blindfold, leather straps, a black leather ball gag, nipple clamps, vibe, locks and a large ring of keys. Also coiled on top was a thirty-some-odd foot clothes line that she had prepared for this evening. She had checked everything several times and now all that was left to do was wait.
The weekend sounds of lawnmowers, laughing kids and bird chirps had slowly segued into the sounds of crickets and the hush of air conditioners trying to keep up with the June heat. Amber had on her neon pink bikini that left little to anyone’s imagination. She was proud of her tanned good looks and kept herself that way by exercising and eating right. Her body was an advantage she had used time and again at the office when pushing some project; that and her long, platinum blonde hair and hazel green eyes unnerved many a male counterpart. For the most part, men were really afraid of beautiful women and she counted herself one among those women.
With the last orange of the setting sun fading away, Amber knew it was time to get to work. She gathered up her bag and stepped down off of her wood deck. Her back yard was perfect for these little adventures of hers. A tall privacy fence surrounded her small back yard and several lilacs and mock-orange bushes help keep the space personal and private. The dark just made sure that her escapades remained her secret.
The wooden deck stood about three feet above the lush, freshly mowed grass and anchored on the corner was a sturdy eye-bolt. Amber pulled out the clothesline, threaded her ring of keys onto it and tightly knotted that end to the bolt. It wasn’t an ordinary clothesline, but one she a stippled with large wooden beads that she had hot-glued into place. The beads were placed randomly, some singly and others in clumps of two or three. There were also several that were not glued and slipped freely along parts of the cord. Carefully Amber uncoiled her beaded line until she reached the small shed at the corner of her yard.
Like the deck, the shed had a couple of eyebolts placed on it as well as a cam cleat that Amber had purchased from a marine supply store. One of the eye bolts was placed about the same height as the one on the deck. The other one was placed a couple of feet higher and the cleat was bolted between the two. Amber threaded the other end of the line up through the lower bolt to the upper bolt before bringing the line back down through the cleat. She didn’t tighten the line, however. She had to get herself prepared.
First thing was to strip out of her bikini and throw it into the shed, locking the sheds’ door with a padlock whose key lay on her kitchen counter. Her nude dress code was now enforced until she got out of tonight’s predicament. Amber enjoyed the feel of the warm air on her naked skin as she got out her ankle cuffs from the bag. Straddling the line with her back to the shed, she fastened the leather cuffs around each ankle and locked each to a small length of chain. Lifting the line up between her thighs, she held it there while she fastened a black leather strap above her knees tightly. Now Amber could only take very small steps.
The blonde enjoyed the warm erotic rush spreading through her as she tried to take a step or two. That was the best part of bondage; the helplessness. She buckled another strap around her waist and hooked the vibrator’s controls to it before easing the chrome vibrator inside herself. Slowly she pushed it inside until it filled her completely but Amber did not turn it on; not yet.
Carefully backing herself up to the shed, it was now time for Amber to pull the line taut. Pulling the line down through the cleat, the line began to become a tight as a bowstring as it passed between her legs, forcing the vibrator deeper insider of her. It was a tight as she dared to make it as it cleaved between her swollen lips and pressed against her clit.
Quickly Amber got out her nipple clamps and fastened each onto herself, producing a delicious feeling of near pain as the jaws pinched down on each nipple. She could feel the small ripples of pleasure starting to wash over her and she hadn’t even turned on the vibe yet. She moaned involuntarily as she relished the feeling before going on.
The gag was next. It was a pear shaped one of black leather that filled her mouth almost completely. It was also the one that seemed to silence her the most. Amber was afraid of trying out one of the pump gags so this was the second best way of suppressing her moans. The tangy taste of the leather filled her mouth as she buckled the gag tightly then locked its small padlock behind her head.
The leather handcuffs were next and Amber quickly buckled each around her wrists. Each one had it own little lock and she clicked each one shut. The last thing she would do is to lock each of them together behind her back with a stout padlock. But she had a couple of other things to do first.
Her blindfold was made of leather as well and it was line with a soft wool. Amber found it was very effective and in the darkness of the night, she may have well been blind. It was really a shame that here was no way of locking it as well, but soon she would be helpless to take it off and that was almost as good.
Amber found the buttons to her vibe and turned it on a low pulse, sending wave after warm wave of pleasure coursing through her. Quickly she put her hands behind her back and with a click of a padlock, she was now helpless.
The blonde wriggled a bit to make sure everything was as tight as she could make it. The pulse of the vibe within her and the cord pressing against her sex fueled her libido as she let the delicious feeling of helplessness wash over her. It was this feeling, that she was no longer in charge of her body that made bondage her sex act of choice. Amber had had a few lovers that tried to tie her the way she wanted but they all failed in making her truly defenseless so she had to find her own way of getting that feeling; thus her descent into self bondage with the aid of several websites that she had found on the subject.
A warm rush of bliss swirled through her and she brought herself back to the task at hand. She would slowly make her way up the beaded rope to the keys to her release. She would then maneuver the ring of keys back down to the shed where she would loosen the line and unlock herself from her slavery and hopefully she would have an orgasm or two along the way.
Inch by inch she made her way down the line blindly. It was decadently slow with every little movement rubbing against her sex and sending more ripples of bliss through her.
Then her clit brushed up against one of the beads. An electric shock of pure pleasure ripped through her as she forced herself over the large bead, almost sending her over the edge. But Amber pushed ahead slowly after drinking in the moment.
Bead after bead sent more bolts of passion through her as she slowly made her way to her deck until about half way she had to lock her knees as a wave of rapture engulfed her in her first small orgasm. She didn’t know how long she stood there but the sound of her neighbors next door playing with their dog brought her out of her self-imposed revelries and back to the matter at hand.
Amber was glad she had gagged herself because otherwise she was sure that Amy and Mike would have heard her. From the sounds of it, Mike was throwing that glow-in-the-dark Frisbee to his dog, Boone, a golden retriever that yelped happily as he caught each throw. They were way too busy with their game to pay attention to her and hers.
Foot by foot, Amber slowly made her way forward. The few sliding beads made the journey that much more interesting since she would just push them along until they hit a glued one and she had to force herself up over both with her pleasure-ached pussy. Finally, after what seemed hours, she could feel the cold keys against her bound thighs.
In her mind, she pictured lifting herself up with her toes and working the ring of keys back until they were in back of her. However, it was much tougher and Amber found herself sweating from her effort and frustration. Finally, she managed to get it accomplished but she was now exhausted from the effort and she still had to make her way all the back to the shed.
Grasping the large key-ring in her hand, she slowly backed her way down the line. Each bead pushed against her anus as she eased herself over each. Even though she was horny as hell and so mush wanted to cum, she knew that she would collapse on the lawn if she did and getting back up would be a nightmare. She Amber focused and continued on.
Then she heard the crash of the bushes.
“Hold on, Boone, I’ll get it down for you,” she heard Mike tell his retriever.
The Frisbee must have landed in the top of one of her bushes. Amber froze and listened as she heard some scrambling against her fence and the rustle of some branches.
“Here boy, go get it!”
Amber let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t seen her but the incident made her fires burn that much hotter and she could feel another orgasm swelling inside her until she couldn’t suppress it any long. Clutching the line with dear life, she let the white hot rapture engulf her as she moaned and bucked what little she could in her bondage, leaving her drained and barely standing.
“Mike told me what he saw out here but I had to take a look for myself,” Amy said.
Ice-water shock flooded through Amber as she stood there, frozen.
“I can see that you are enjoying yourself,” Amy continued in her slight southern accent, “and I took a couple of photos just so we can remember it together.”
Amber could just see her neighbor Amy standing there with her camera. She was a short little brunette with the kind of girl-next-door good looks that men wanted to marry.
“Don’t worry, Mike is still next door. You got him all hot and bothered and I am sure that I’ll get some when I get home; but I am curious, do these hurt?”
Amber felt Amy flick her nipple clamps, sending another shower of pleasure through her. She moaned into her gag.
Amy laughed, “I see. Well, I never expected you would be into something like this. I always envisioned you the tigress on the hunt. But neighbors do surprise you sometimes, don’t they?”
The bound woman found herself blushing and wishing that she could be anywhere but there. Then she felt Amy grab the keys and wrench them from her grasp.
“I think I will take these,” Amy said of the protests of the bound woman in front of her, “And when you work yourself out of this, feel free to hop over to our place and we’ll give them back to you. . .maybe.”
Amber felt the Amy working the key-ring off of the line. Amber knew it was one of the split rings so Amy didn’t have to undo the line in order to get them off. Amber was still mewling her protests as Amy pulled off her blindfold.
“Now, I don’t want you to hurt yourself getting over to our place, hon. I don’t want you to bruise that pretty little bod of yours, at least not yet. We’ll leave the front porch light off and make sure that your house is nice and locked-up tight for the night. Good thing you left a spare key with us now isn’t it?”
Amy petted the bound blonde on the head while looking into her green eyes.
“Now, you hurry on up. Like I said, Mike is hot-and-bothered so I don’t know how long I can keep his hands off of me and we like to make sure we don’t get disturbed when we’re together, you know. So you best get started and we hope to see you soon.”
With a little wave, Amy walked away, swinging the keys on her index finger and whistling some familiar tune.
Amber pondered a bit then, defeated, then started to move down the line. Tonight’s adventure was far more than she had bartered for.
And for that, she was glad.
WALKING THE LINE
T.S. FESSELN
Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depictions of sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below.
Even though Amber looked peaceful resting on her deck chair, she was anything but. The blonde felt as if every nerve inside of her was a live, sparking wire. She was planning another adventure tonight after the sun had set and the blues and purples of twilight had taken over her back yard. She had everything she needed in a canvas tote beside her; handcuffs, blindfold, leather straps, a black leather ball gag, nipple clamps, vibe, locks and a large ring of keys. Also coiled on top was a thirty-some-odd foot clothes line that she had prepared for this evening. She had checked everything several times and now all that was left to do was wait.
The weekend sounds of lawnmowers, laughing kids and bird chirps had slowly segued into the sounds of crickets and the hush of air conditioners trying to keep up with the June heat. Amber had on her neon pink bikini that left little to anyone’s imagination. She was proud of her tanned good looks and kept herself that way by exercising and eating right. Her body was an advantage she had used time and again at the office when pushing some project; that and her long, platinum blonde hair and hazel green eyes unnerved many a male counterpart. For the most part, men were really afraid of beautiful women and she counted herself one among those women.
With the last orange of the setting sun fading away, Amber knew it was time to get to work. She gathered up her bag and stepped down off of her wood deck. Her back yard was perfect for these little adventures of hers. A tall privacy fence surrounded her small back yard and several lilacs and mock-orange bushes help keep the space personal and private. The dark just made sure that her escapades remained her secret.
The wooden deck stood about three feet above the lush, freshly mowed grass and anchored on the corner was a sturdy eye-bolt. Amber pulled out the clothesline, threaded her ring of keys onto it and tightly knotted that end to the bolt. It wasn’t an ordinary clothesline, but one she a stippled with large wooden beads that she had hot-glued into place. The beads were placed randomly, some singly and others in clumps of two or three. There were also several that were not glued and slipped freely along parts of the cord. Carefully Amber uncoiled her beaded line until she reached the small shed at the corner of her yard.
Like the deck, the shed had a couple of eyebolts placed on it as well as a cam cleat that Amber had purchased from a marine supply store. One of the eye bolts was placed about the same height as the one on the deck. The other one was placed a couple of feet higher and the cleat was bolted between the two. Amber threaded the other end of the line up through the lower bolt to the upper bolt before bringing the line back down through the cleat. She didn’t tighten the line, however. She had to get herself prepared.
First thing was to strip out of her bikini and throw it into the shed, locking the sheds’ door with a padlock whose key lay on her kitchen counter. Her nude dress code was now enforced until she got out of tonight’s predicament. Amber enjoyed the feel of the warm air on her naked skin as she got out her ankle cuffs from the bag. Straddling the line with her back to the shed, she fastened the leather cuffs around each ankle and locked each to a small length of chain. Lifting the line up between her thighs, she held it there while she fastened a black leather strap above her knees tightly. Now Amber could only take very small steps.
The blonde enjoyed the warm erotic rush spreading through her as she tried to take a step or two. That was the best part of bondage; the helplessness. She buckled another strap around her waist and hooked the vibrator’s controls to it before easing the chrome vibrator inside herself. Slowly she pushed it inside until it filled her completely but Amber did not turn it on; not yet.
Carefully backing herself up to the shed, it was now time for Amber to pull the line taut. Pulling the line down through the cleat, the line began to become a tight as a bowstring as it passed between her legs, forcing the vibrator deeper insider of her. It was a tight as she dared to make it as it cleaved between her swollen lips and pressed against her clit.
Quickly Amber got out her nipple clamps and fastened each onto herself, producing a delicious feeling of near pain as the jaws pinched down on each nipple. She could feel the small ripples of pleasure starting to wash over her and she hadn’t even turned on the vibe yet. She moaned involuntarily as she relished the feeling before going on.
The gag was next. It was a pear shaped one of black leather that filled her mouth almost completely. It was also the one that seemed to silence her the most. Amber was afraid of trying out one of the pump gags so this was the second best way of suppressing her moans. The tangy taste of the leather filled her mouth as she buckled the gag tightly then locked its small padlock behind her head.
The leather handcuffs were next and Amber quickly buckled each around her wrists. Each one had it own little lock and she clicked each one shut. The last thing she would do is to lock each of them together behind her back with a stout padlock. But she had a couple of other things to do first.
Her blindfold was made of leather as well and it was line with a soft wool. Amber found it was very effective and in the darkness of the night, she may have well been blind. It was really a shame that here was no way of locking it as well, but soon she would be helpless to take it off and that was almost as good.
Amber found the buttons to her vibe and turned it on a low pulse, sending wave after warm wave of pleasure coursing through her. Quickly she put her hands behind her back and with a click of a padlock, she was now helpless.
The blonde wriggled a bit to make sure everything was as tight as she could make it. The pulse of the vibe within her and the cord pressing against her sex fueled her libido as she let the delicious feeling of helplessness wash over her. It was this feeling, that she was no longer in charge of her body that made bondage her sex act of choice. Amber had had a few lovers that tried to tie her the way she wanted but they all failed in making her truly defenseless so she had to find her own way of getting that feeling; thus her descent into self bondage with the aid of several websites that she had found on the subject.
A warm rush of bliss swirled through her and she brought herself back to the task at hand. She would slowly make her way up the beaded rope to the keys to her release. She would then maneuver the ring of keys back down to the shed where she would loosen the line and unlock herself from her slavery and hopefully she would have an orgasm or two along the way.
Inch by inch she made her way down the line blindly. It was decadently slow with every little movement rubbing against her sex and sending more ripples of bliss through her.
Then her clit brushed up against one of the beads. An electric shock of pure pleasure ripped through her as she forced herself over the large bead, almost sending her over the edge. But Amber pushed ahead slowly after drinking in the moment.
Bead after bead sent more bolts of passion through her as she slowly made her way to her deck until about half way she had to lock her knees as a wave of rapture engulfed her in her first small orgasm. She didn’t know how long she stood there but the sound of her neighbors next door playing with their dog brought her out of her self-imposed revelries and back to the matter at hand.
Amber was glad she had gagged herself because otherwise she was sure that Amy and Mike would have heard her. From the sounds of it, Mike was throwing that glow-in-the-dark Frisbee to his dog, Boone, a golden retriever that yelped happily as he caught each throw. They were way too busy with their game to pay attention to her and hers.
Foot by foot, Amber slowly made her way forward. The few sliding beads made the journey that much more interesting since she would just push them along until they hit a glued one and she had to force herself up over both with her pleasure-ached pussy. Finally, after what seemed hours, she could feel the cold keys against her bound thighs.
In her mind, she pictured lifting herself up with her toes and working the ring of keys back until they were in back of her. However, it was much tougher and Amber found herself sweating from her effort and frustration. Finally, she managed to get it accomplished but she was now exhausted from the effort and she still had to make her way all the back to the shed.
Grasping the large key-ring in her hand, she slowly backed her way down the line. Each bead pushed against her anus as she eased herself over each. Even though she was horny as hell and so mush wanted to cum, she knew that she would collapse on the lawn if she did and getting back up would be a nightmare. She Amber focused and continued on.
Then she heard the crash of the bushes.
“Hold on, Boone, I’ll get it down for you,” she heard Mike tell his retriever.
The Frisbee must have landed in the top of one of her bushes. Amber froze and listened as she heard some scrambling against her fence and the rustle of some branches.
“Here boy, go get it!”
Amber let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t seen her but the incident made her fires burn that much hotter and she could feel another orgasm swelling inside her until she couldn’t suppress it any long. Clutching the line with dear life, she let the white hot rapture engulf her as she moaned and bucked what little she could in her bondage, leaving her drained and barely standing.
“Mike told me what he saw out here but I had to take a look for myself,” Amy said.
Ice-water shock flooded through Amber as she stood there, frozen.
“I can see that you are enjoying yourself,” Amy continued in her slight southern accent, “and I took a couple of photos just so we can remember it together.”
Amber could just see her neighbor Amy standing there with her camera. She was a short little brunette with the kind of girl-next-door good looks that men wanted to marry.
“Don’t worry, Mike is still next door. You got him all hot and bothered and I am sure that I’ll get some when I get home; but I am curious, do these hurt?”
Amber felt Amy flick her nipple clamps, sending another shower of pleasure through her. She moaned into her gag.
Amy laughed, “I see. Well, I never expected you would be into something like this. I always envisioned you the tigress on the hunt. But neighbors do surprise you sometimes, don’t they?”
The bound woman found herself blushing and wishing that she could be anywhere but there. Then she felt Amy grab the keys and wrench them from her grasp.
“I think I will take these,” Amy said of the protests of the bound woman in front of her, “And when you work yourself out of this, feel free to hop over to our place and we’ll give them back to you. . .maybe.”
Amber felt the Amy working the key-ring off of the line. Amber knew it was one of the split rings so Amy didn’t have to undo the line in order to get them off. Amber was still mewling her protests as Amy pulled off her blindfold.
“Now, I don’t want you to hurt yourself getting over to our place, hon. I don’t want you to bruise that pretty little bod of yours, at least not yet. We’ll leave the front porch light off and make sure that your house is nice and locked-up tight for the night. Good thing you left a spare key with us now isn’t it?”
Amy petted the bound blonde on the head while looking into her green eyes.
“Now, you hurry on up. Like I said, Mike is hot-and-bothered so I don’t know how long I can keep his hands off of me and we like to make sure we don’t get disturbed when we’re together, you know. So you best get started and we hope to see you soon.”
With a little wave, Amy walked away, swinging the keys on her index finger and whistling some familiar tune.
Amber pondered a bit then, defeated, then started to move down the line. Tonight’s adventure was far more than she had bartered for.
And for that, she was glad.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
'End' of 'Summer'
Greetings. It has been years in the making and now it is time to end 'Summer Project', or at least and end to the begining 'book' . After much thought and several recent readers comments, I have decided chop-up the storyline into seperate 'book' sized chunks. What does that mean? It means that the current 'Summer Project' will end in the next several chapters (I am thinking around Chapter 20 or so) and begin again further down the time line.
What it doesn't mean is an end to the actual story. When I began writing this, I had a definate ending in mind and a few points to get to along the way. I have reached a few of those points and there are many more along the way as well as a mystery or two as the story develops (here's an example, the original working title was 'The Summer Before'.) I haven't decided on the title of the second book, but it will have 'summer' in the title. Perhaps some of you may have and idea.
I also need to work on 'On French Soil' and that story I need to be in the proper mind set. The plot is complicated and numerous characters fade in and out of the story line as it meanders to the climax. I also need to get into the period in terms of language and imagery so as to make it as believable as possible.
Other storylines need to be finished or a sequel added to them. Please let me know which ones you would like to see. Also, please add your comments to the consensual vs non-consensual survey in Fesseln's Fiction: September 2008 .
Take care and look for chapter 18 to 'Summer' as well as other stories.
What it doesn't mean is an end to the actual story. When I began writing this, I had a definate ending in mind and a few points to get to along the way. I have reached a few of those points and there are many more along the way as well as a mystery or two as the story develops (here's an example, the original working title was 'The Summer Before'.) I haven't decided on the title of the second book, but it will have 'summer' in the title. Perhaps some of you may have and idea.
I also need to work on 'On French Soil' and that story I need to be in the proper mind set. The plot is complicated and numerous characters fade in and out of the story line as it meanders to the climax. I also need to get into the period in terms of language and imagery so as to make it as believable as possible.
Other storylines need to be finished or a sequel added to them. Please let me know which ones you would like to see. Also, please add your comments to the consensual vs non-consensual survey in Fesseln's Fiction: September 2008 .
Take care and look for chapter 18 to 'Summer' as well as other stories.
Friday, April 10, 2009
'Summer Project' chapter 17
At long last, chapter 17 of 'Summer Project' has been completed and sent on it's way to various websites for posting. As for those who wished to be on the mailing list, please email me and I will send you a copy. My list has been overburdened with old and defunct addresses and updating it will take some time. Other things in the works include the sequel to 'Maid Service'. Time here is a bit limited so I hope that you will patient with me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
