(F4M) It was a mistake to play Truth or Dare with my brother friend(s). Now I'm stuck in their basement, bound with speaker wire and a dildo gag shoved down my throat. I wish I would have told someone I was here (Noncon, Heavy Bondage, Slave Training) nudes
(F/A) My photography teacher, who I must admit I had a huge crush on, approached me for help in exchange for extra credits. He needed help with a project and wanted me as the model for the shoot. I agreed not realising what I was getting myself into.
Breaking The Story...The Pandora's Box disappearances....an interactive one on one ( Male for Female) roleplay mind control?/hypnosis? Whodunnit Mystery. Will she break the case or will the case break her? @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@####@@@@@#####
(F4A) The night had started with excitement and anticipation cracking in the air like static. The shimmering fabric of my dress caught the dim light of our apartment, making me feel alluring and confident. I had dressed up for what was supposed to be an
(F44) I remember sitting in Professor Sterling's office, feeling so incredibly important. He was this brilliant psychologist, and I, fresh out of high school, was just a freshman trying to find my place. He’d singled me out after class one day, said I
(F/A) Sure i was too old to be Trick or Treating but i still did it, although right now i wish i didn’t. I knocked on the wrong door, the man behind it grabbed me before I could react and covered my mouth with a dirty rag. I woke up only a few minutes
(F4M) It was a mistake to play Truth or Dare with my brother friend(s). Now I'm stuck in their basement, bound with speaker wire and a dildo gag shoved down my throat. I wish I would have told someone I was here (Noncon, Heavy Bondage, Slave Training)
(F4A) I lie here, the soft cushion beneath me a stark contrast to the harsh reality of my predicament. My wrists, bound tightly behind my back, ache from the constant pressure of the rope. The gag in my mouth, woven and slightly rough, presses against my
(FF4A) **Sophia's Perspective:** I remember the first day I stepped into his house. I was seventeen, just a girl tumbling out of the foster system, holding onto the threads of hope that someone out there wanted me. When I met him—our foster father—I
