Monday, December 11, 2023
Sunday, December 10, 2023
Prelude to Darkness part 2
Seated in her wheelchair with both legs in long pink walking casts, she faced the daunting task of rising. The casts rested snugly on the leg rests, and with a determined glint in her eyes, she began the challenging transfer. Slowly and methodically, she slid the casts off the leg rests, revealing the vulnerability of her badly broken limbs.
Using her forearm crutches for support that had been attached to the back of her wheelchair, Amelia's determination and strength was obvious as she wrestled with the challenge to stand on her fractured legs for only the 3rd time in the last 3 months. Finally, with a determined push on her crutches, Amelia rose from the wheelchair. The towering figure, previously confined to the seated chair, now stood, broken but tall and in control.
With a devilish glint on her lips. This tall, blond, long-legged woman sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. Within a second she had me sensually and sexually attracted to her words and so, so much more.
As she navigated the space between us, swinging both legs at the same time, I was mesmerised by the beauty of her long casts.
While she was now standing before me with the help of her black crutches, I should have said NO, I can't, I won't.
"Hello, Mr. Harlow, so nice to finally meet you," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of Je ne sais quoi.
After I pointed to the unoccupied chair, she moved towards it with surprising ease despite her crutches and broken legs. They were part of her, however, the visible strain across her face betrayed the pain radiating from her broken legs as she gingerly lowered herself into the chair.
Concerned, I suggested fetching an extra chair to facilitate the elevation of her fractured legs, hoping to offer some relief from the obvious pain she was feeling. As I returned with the additional chair, I could see the grimace of pain on her face. With a gentle touch, I assisted her in lifting her long and heavy casts onto the propped-up chair.
The sudden proximity to her broken legs unleashed a wave of unexpected sexual sensations within me, my penis was fully erected. Her casts, long and hard, became an unanticipated focal point under my fingers.
I was unable to resist, I found myself rubbing the surface of the casts. The texture of her pantyhose covered casts felt nice under my fingers, both smooth and rigid. The contours of her sexy long shattered legs beneath the cast wanted to reveal what was hidden beneath. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with a strange tension as my fingers traced the length of the casts.
I... inadvertently explored between her long legs, against any and all professional conduct.
Caught in this peculiar moment, I became acutely aware of the intimacy that had unexpectedly unfolded so quickly. She quietly moaned, smiled while her blue eyes stared deep into my brown eyes.
Those lips...
I continued to gently rub her casts and her wet vagina after ripping her pantyhose to slide my finger in and out of her vagina, blurring the lines between respect and sexual desire. I was out of control. What finally stopped me was that I couldn't help but wonder about the significance behind her remark, "to finally meet you" and her orgasm also helped to stop me and regain some control.
"I've heard from my father that you're the best in the business, and I need the best."
Little did I know that her arrival would unravel an erotic, sexual and nightmarish tale, one that would blur the lines between desire and going straight to hell. As we sat in my office, Amelia's eyes gleamed from sexual lust a few minutes ago to total control.
"You see, Mr. Harlow," she began by slightly moving back closer together her broken legs
"I've been plotting in my hospital bed with both shattered legs elevated and in tractions, meticulously planning how to make him pay for what he did to me. What he did to this version of me"
Intrigued, I leaned forward, drawn into the twisted narrative she was unfolding. I accidentally touched her toes at the end of the left cast sending a wave of images through me. Images of her long and sexy leg casts on my shoulders while we made furious love, Amelia looking so desirable.
"I want him to feel every ounce of pain he inflicted on me. No, I want him to suffer more," she continued, her voice a low haunting whisper.
Amelia detailed her revenge, a dark list of retribution, as I listened in both horror and fascination. "And, Mr. Harlow," she turned her gaze towards me, "you'll play a crucial role in bringing this nightmarish justice to fruition."
Her plan was diabolical, a combination of seduction, manipulation, and pure vengeance. As she outlined my role, the lines between right and wrong blurred, and I found myself ensnared in a web of desire and darkness.
Amelia became my personal assistant over the next few months, and from the moment she hobbled into my office on her crutches, her right leg now healed but her left one going through multiple surgeries and still in a black non weight bearing full leg cast, the atmosphere changed in the office.
It always did when she rolled in her wheelchair or hobbled in on her crutches or limped in.
There was an unsettling energy, an unspoken agreement that lingered between us. Her eyes held a secret past, a hidden history that fuelled my curiosity and, dare I say, my obsession with this sexy powerful woman.
As I observed her, my fascination grew with every step she took. The knee-high socks, a rebellious splash against convention, wrapped around her right calve traced the lines of her sexy lower leg, emphasizing curves that seemed to tell a story of their own with her Nike shoe.
What intrigued me even more was her movement, after months on crutches she was performing a delicate choreography with them. The rhythmic tap of the crutches tips on the floor and the soft tap of her running shoe looked and sounded so natural and easy for her.
And then there was the way her short skirt swayed with each step, a companion to her crutches. The fabric whispered practicality and femininity, a captivating contrast to the beautiful look of the knee socks that I totally loved.
If her tight fitting blouse played its part, framing her large round breasts it only completed her ensemble. She was displaying just enough skins.
La piece de resistance was the white knee sock over her cast. In a way it was hiding the complexity of her black cast, stretched to the maximum the sock covered the foot portion of her cast all the way up her knee, well almost.
Amelia's father "convinced", Dr. Steffi Robinson elevated the concept of a mere medical cast into a stylish accessory. Unlike the sometimes boring appearance of medical casts, Dr. Robinson transformed Amelia's cast into a visual piece. The cast seamlessly melded with her knee sock.
The stretched knee sock traced the contours of her perfectly formed cast, bringing all the attention to the curves of her broken leg. A synergy between the crutches, skirt, and blouse, creating a look that was impossible to ignore, Amelia's casual look intensified my desire for her.
Each element, from the well shaped cast to her white knee sock, contributed to go beyond the functional. Dr. Robinson's meticulous craftsmanship had turned a medical necessity into a captivating attraction.
As I stared at the beautiful woman, I couldn't help but wonder about the stories behind her love for knee socks, crutches, skirts, and tight fitting blouses that weren't just accessories; they were so much more, they were part of her play.
Like any other man I can appreciate a beautiful woman moving around on crutches but Amelia's beauty was a beauty that went beyond the physical. She had an appreciation for the unconventional allure because she wasn't afraid to interplay disparate elements.
If anything she styled her cast as a fashionable accessory, turning it into a distinctive element that added to her beauty. It contributed to her tall and uniquely captivating, slightly mysterious, and seductive presence. Without a doubt I'm sure she had used recreational casting in her life before to get what she wanted.
Late one night, because Amelia mostly worked nights, as I was poring over documents looking to find the mystery man driving the sports car, Amelia entered silently on her crutches and...
Prelude to Darkness
Part 3 to come
K
Saturday, December 9, 2023
Friday, December 8, 2023
Prelude to Darkness part 1
Prelude to Darkness
Part 1
One week ago, the dim glow of the antique desk lamp cast eerie shadows across the mahogany walls of my office. The air was heavy with tension, and the only sounds that echoed through the room was the soft hum of the flickering bulb and the grandfather clock seconds ticking.
I settled into the plush leather chair behind my imposing oak desk, fingers steepled together, grappling with the weight of the day's unfolding events. The news of my secretary's sudden heart attack lingered heavily, casting a sombre shadow over the atmosphere of my office.
As the reality of her passing sank in, the day took another chilling turn. The grandfather clock stopped ticking at exactly 2:15 pm and I stood up. My gaze drifted to the window, drawn to the bustling street below. She was walking on the sidewalk facing me, staring at me and smiling.
She was tall, slim and athletic looking. Lustrous blond hair, piercing blue eyes, full lips and she moved with a natural grace on her heels. Her 4 inch stilettos heels clicked against the pavement, echoing a haunting melody from the Rolling Stones amidst the city's usual chaos.
She stared at me again, smiled and I swear she said,
"Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what's confusing you
It is just the nature of my game"
And I said "Woo, who sexy"
At the same time the wind picked up and played with the hem of her coat, creating a sombre symphony with Sympathy For The Devil playing in my office. I don't know where it came from since I don;r have speakers in my office. She stepped off the sidewalk and navigated the crosswalk exposing her perfect long legs.
However, the ordinary rhythms of life "shattered" when a red sports car raced into view, its low profile tires screeching against the pavement trying to stop. Time slowed, and the scene unfolded before me, like a grim painting of Satan's daughter.
Caught in the chaotic ballet of life and hell, She found herself at the mercy of fate. The impact was swift and so loud, a sickening cracking of bones reverberating through the glass pane separating us. Her broken body crumpled to the asphalt, an unexpected casualty of the indifferent dance between vehicles and pedestrians.
The perpetrator, a man burdened with guilt and the stench of alcohol, emerged from his car. He stumbled towards her, his gaze fixated on the shattered figure sprawled before him. A gnawing realization claws at him, to a minimum she has 2 broken legs, or death. A direct consequence of his reckless actions.
"Help me! I can't move" She moaned and pleaded, her voice strained with pain and lust. Her blue eyes, once gleaming with determination, were now clouded with agony and pain.
The man, his face contorted with panic, stared at her legs, and the severity of the fractures was unmistakable. Fear gripped him, not just for the impending legal consequences but for the life he had jeopardized. His mind raced through the possibilities.
A hit and run vs the potential prison sentence, the damning weight of guilt on him and his family.
"Please, help me! You have to do something, I can't move my legs, I think they are both broken. I have so much to do in this world for my dad" She implored, but her voice wasn't pleading but warning him.
He grappled with Satan's options laid out before him. On one path, the right thing to do, a responsible admission of guilt, facing the legal consequences, and seeking redemption. On the other side, Satan's wrong path, the cowardly escape from accountability, whispered promises of temporary freedom at the expense of a woman suffering.
The silence between them thickened, suffocating in its intensity. She, broken and vulnerable, read the turmoil in his eyes. Her words sliced through the air like a serious warning, like a striking rattlesnake.
"Don't do it I want you, because I swear you will regret it. I'm not just a woman suffering in pain from your actions, I'm his daughter"
The man, caught in the middle of morality and self-preservation, hesitated for 2 seconds. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead as he contemplated the choices that would define his fate. With a resigned nod, he turned away from her, Satan was winning, he retreated to his car, and drove away into the night talking on his phone...again...Don't they learn she wondered.
Left in the wake of his departure, she laid on the cold asphalt, a shattered, twisted and useless but still sexy body for some.
As the minutes stretched into an eternity, a mix of pain, anger, and helplessness enveloped her. She had become not only a victim of a hit and run but also a pawn in the moral quandary of a man wrestling with her own father.
My heart raced as I witnessed the unfolding tragedy. Strangers rushed to her aid, their faces twisted in concern and disbelief looking at her legs, twisted, broken and partly attached to her body. A chill crawled up my spine, the weight of an unspoken connection I had just witnessed.
The tall woman's elegant attire, once pristine, was now showing the brutality of the impact, her blond hair dishevelled, her black dress stained with asphalt and blood. Her broken legs bent out at an unnatural angle, a grotesque reminder of the fragility of the human limbs.
A pump, a silly over expensive high heel shoe still attached to one of her broken legs, served as a haunting symbol of the horror that had unfolded.
The ambulance arrived with a wail of sirens, its red and blue lights casting an ominous glow on the scene. Paramedics carefully attended to her, the gravity of the situation bearing down on me. The echoes of the day's dual tragedies lingered in the air of my office, a heavy silence punctuated only by distant sirens and the muffled gasps of onlookers.
The grandfather clock resumed its measured ticking, bringing me back to the present moment.
I remained seated, my fingers now unconsciously tracing the smooth edges of the desk. The events of this fateful day had left an indelible mark, a dark stain and cloud on my routine of advocating for the indefensible, defending those who perpetrate heinous crimes such as murder, rape and white collar crime solely for financial gain.
That was my insidious manifestation of the sin of greed, where the lure of money literally blinded me. The oak desk, once a symbol of power and control, now felt like a witness to the fragility of life. Twice in one day.
Two lives, intertwined with mine in different ways, had been altered irreversibly. The weight of the day pressed upon me.
By the way, my name is Vincent Harlow, and I run a very profitable on the edge law firm in the heart of his city. It was his city, his people I was representing. My reputation as a ruthless and cunning lawyer was well earned, but nothing could have prepared me for the sinister turn my life was about to take.
It all began with Amelia, beautiful and sexy Miss Turner, a much younger woman than me with an air of mystery that intrigued me from the moment I saw her being hit by the car, the moment she later rolled into my office in her red wheelchair, both her broken legs elevated in leg rest.
She was dressed in a very sexy and tight fitting black dress... with her long, totally non weight bearing pink casts peeking out from beneath stylish pantyhose. She didn't look vulnerable at all but in her wheelchair, instead she looked dangerous and so attractive. I can't explain why I felt like I did towards this young woman, maybe if you read more you will understand. It's up to you.
"Please to meet you "she said and the song was back in my head.
Prelude to Darkness
Part 2 to come
K
Thursday, December 7, 2023
Wednesday, December 6, 2023
Prelude to Darkness intro
In our social media world, what if an eighth deadly sin emerged, the tempting menace of Fetishism, a perilous temptation surpassing conventional desires. This sin would be an obsessive fixation on unconventional and often taboo objects or acts, leading individuals down a path of distorted desires that overshadow genuine connections.
The sin of Fetishism would create a web of compulsive and unhealthy attractions, eroding the fabric of meaningful relationships as the pursuit of these unconventional desires takes precedence. Resisting the seduction of Fetishism would demand a return to wholesome and authentic connections, emphasizing the importance of genuine human bonds over the fleeting allure of fetishistic indulgences.
Bla, bla, bla
Listen to me, complete bullshit...
"Welcome to a tale inspired from your own desires, fears and emails. In the year 2024, my daughter steps forth in your world where the mundane meets the macabre. Witness her journey, a beautiful dance between good and bad, as she seeks retribution against those who dared...I, Satan, invite you to explore the depths of frailty and the darkness and beauty that lies within my beloved and sexy daughter, where the boundaries between pleasure and pain, justice and vengeance, young and old, become but mere illusions.
I challenge you to read part 1, just as I urged my daughter in her sexy high heels shoes to step from the sidewalk to the crosswalk. She embodies the woman of your dreams, the irresistible love of your life that you find impossible to resist.
I mean look at her photo, those eyes and lips...
Respectfully yours
Satan
Tuesday, December 5, 2023
Monday, December 4, 2023
The president's daughter conclusion
In the privacy of my apartment, I was excited as I carefully plotted my next move. Eager to surprise Mia, I stood before the full-length mirror, studying my reflection as if composing a new sexual persona to please my lover. I had already ordered a cotton amputee sock, and a set of crutches, carefully concealing them from Mia's view. As I began to apply the make-believe stump, wrapping my leg, I was amazed at the authenticity of the illusion taking shape before my eyes.
Pretending to be an amputee felt strangely natural to me, as if it were an extension of my own sexual persona. Adjusting my weight onto the crutches, I tested my balance, my movements guided by a need to surprise and please sexually my future wife.
As I looked at my legs, I rubbed my make-believe stump, the flesh-toned material blending seamlessly with my skin. I adjusted the sock, ensuring a snug fit, the gradual loss of sensation in my left leg was unfamiliar yet such a sexual turn on, the added challenge was such a thrill.
As I took tentative steps across the room on my crutches I felt a rush between my leg and stump, with a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I couldn't wait to see the look of surprise on Mia's face.
Rummaging through my small collection of shoes, I searched for the perfect high heel that would complement the illusion. I carefully considered the height, the shape, and the color, knowing that the right shoe would not only complete the look but also add a touch of sophistication to my persona.
I slipped on the shoe, loving the way it elevated my posture and added to my playful transformation. The gentle curve of the heel added a sway in my step, while the subtle click of the sole and stiletto heel on the floor resonated. As I stood before the mirror, the complete image took shape.
The sight of the sleek pencil skirt hugging my curves, its deep navy hue contrasting with my white blouse hugging my breasts. The hem of the skirt fell just above my knee allowing a glimpse of the artificial amputated limb.
Leaving my apartment, the gentle click of my heel echoed softly in the hallway. I glided through the hallway, the elegant sway of my stump between the crutches became a seamless extension of my body's newfound grace. As I approached Mia's door, the scent of familiarity greeted me, a blend of her favorite candles.
With a gentle knock, the anticipation swelled, listening to the soft echo of her own crutches that followed. The door swung open, revealing the radiant smile that graced Mia's face, with its irresistible charm.
Her eyes widened in pleasant surprise as she took in my striking new appearance having recently recreationally lost my left leg at the knee following a terrible accident.
"Wow, you look amazing, come in, come in. I've been waiting for you but I wasn't expecting you to look so amazing only 2 days after your amputation," she played on.
I could see her gaze lingering appreciatively on my stump. Mia leaned gently on her crutches, closing the distance between leg cast and my strong right leg, and softly pressed her lips against mine while her cast rubbed my leg.
As her tongue gently explored, every sexual nerve in my body seemed to come alive, pulsating with a desire that I could no longer contain. Our kiss deepened, becoming a passionate exchange. I held her closer, time seemed to stand still as we enjoyed the intimacy of the moment, letting our hearts guide us to a place where nothing else mattered.
Our crutches dropped simultaneously, the clatter on the floor barely audible amidst the intensity of the moment. Mia, being careful not to put weight on her short cast knowing her tibia couldn't take it, she skilfully hopped over to the couch. Meanwhile, I balanced on one leg, the high heel adding an extra challenge, but my determination to be close to Mia eclipsed any discomfort.
I looked into those haunting blue eyes. Less than 6 inches separated us. Mia then leaned forward and kissed me on the lips with her hand on my stump rubbing it while she looked into my face for a reaction and found happiness that I was pleasing her.
"Oh God Sarah I wasn't sure how you would feel about my sexual attraction to amputees but this is more than my craziest dream."
"To tell the truth, to see you the last 6 weeks in your cast and on crutches made it easier to try it,"
I kissed her once again and felt her mouth open, allowing my tongue easy access. Our tongues met and began to dart in and out of each other's mouth. I began to unbutton Mia's blouse, slipping my hand inside her bra and I cup her perfect breasts while my fingers began to work their magic on her long hard nipples.
She let out a soft moan, just to let me know that she wanted me to continue. Her broken leg rubbing against my stump. Within seconds her blouse was on the floor and I removed her bra.
"You are so sexy Mia," before she could say anything my mouth was on her dark nipples, my tongue licking.
Her hands moved down to my stump then my skirt. I shifted a little, lifting my ass off the couch. With a slow and caring tug, she pulled my skirt and panties along my stump and good long leg. She began to kiss downward, along my belly, I was totally shaved.
Mia slipped a finger inside me followed by her tongue. My stump and leg were stretched as far apart as I could. For the moment I was content to just enjoy her. She thrusted her eager tongue in and out.
She then carefully stood up on her short leg cast and foot, her broken leg without the support of her crutches was very vulnerable, pain showing across her face. Despite the slight wince, her blue eyes were bright with lust and sexual needs.
With graceful movements, she swayed her hips slowly, her body gently following the rhythm of an imaginary melody. While caressing her large breasts, her eyes were on my short stump.
I was transfixed by her beauty while I kept masturbating. I couldn't help but watch as she danced, her broken leg dangerously bearing the weight with the pain she was undoubtedly feeling.
"You're amazing, so sexy but be careful."
Mia's gesture caught me off guard when she leaned in and pulled me up, on my one leg. She couldn't help but moan from the pain and pleasure she was feeling as she supported my weight, her broken leg taking the strain, and the pain coursing through her sexy long body was evident.
"Careful," I said as I steadied myself on my single leg, I couldn't feel my wrapped leg anymore, just like an amputee would while she was holding me up. In that quiet, intimate moment, our eyes locked, Mia's grip tightened on me as she moaned.
"I love you," I whispered.
Mia's lips curled into a tender smile. "I love you too, Sarah. More than words can say."
I brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, my fingers gentle as they traced the curve of her cheek.
"Will you marry me?"
"Yes, Sarah. A thousand times, yes,"
But as Mia leaned in, her gaze locked with mine, a flicker of hesitation evident in her eyes.
"Sarah, I think I might have broken my leg again dancing on my cast," she said quietly licking her lips, smiling.
My heart sank at the news, I couldn't feel my leg and wondered how long it would take before...You know.
"We'll figure it out. We'll find a way, my sexy amputee,"Mia said, rubbing my stump and then she kissed me keeping her broken leg off the floor.
The end
K