Creative Writing: Room 111

His mind reeled in such agony that he dropped the blade he had drew and clamped his hands over his ears, slamming his eyes shut as the voice grew louder. "...As for why you are here, what you are looking for...I do not know. But I have a guess as to what you want." So loud. "...I did not think you would take so long." His jaw clenched as his teeth crushed together, his knees almost buckling. What was she doing? It was all...

"Look at you, you weak bitch. On your knees, where you fucking, belong." He laughed, a cold, merciless sound that matched the expression on his face as he slapped her, almost tauntingly with his meat again, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh loud in the night air, and then forced her head back, and her body to arch with the impetus with which he jerked on her hair. His feet moved forward and he planted them either side of her shoulders. "That's right, you're going to do anything I want." She'd had more than ample opportunity to utter the safe-word he told himself, as the whip arced again, this time cracking six inches above her thigh, before the leather tails struck skin and curled around her thigh, and simultaneously the string of the corset was ripped, rather than pulled open, and Lila Ross's tits feel free. A large rough hand quickly grasped one in it's palm, and Tom stepped forward, swinging the whip again as he squeezed, and stepped forward; his raging and throbbing manhood at the woman's eyes level. "You don't want me to hurt you, then open your fucking mouth and beg for me to screw it, like your husband wouldn't

She stood behind him as he blindly looked through the dimly lit basement. He turned to the right, so close to where she was standing with his gun raised. When he turned around full she raised the paperweight and went to strike. Except the knot in her stomach stopped

To this day, years and years later, Morgana could recall every moment of his assault on her. He bent her over the bed and forced her, pounding into her savagely. Then he shoved her to her knees and stuffed his cock into her mouth; she vomited all over him. Then… Then he pushed her onto the ground, face first. He fell on top of her and jammed his hardness into her backside. Gods, the pain was so blinding she could feel her flesh tearing, the blood coursing down her legs, even now.

The woman moved closer. Her eyes were brown. Her expression serious enough that Cass knew he must have looked like shit. She asked him to sit. He knew better than to argue with a woman, he couldn’t win on a good day. As a rule he never argued with the fairer sex, they knew things he didn’t. Using the walk as a guide he slid down until his body crunched down into a sitting position. Another cry of pain escaped him, his hand slipping down to his ribs. Whoever said that you should get back a bike again after a fall was a dirty liar.

Still on her front, with ass and thighs scratched and welted, back bruised from the battering received from his body, with her wrists shackled, and his seed dripping from her abused pussy. "Babe, I've got to go, there's been a break in the case. I hope this lived up to your expectations." Tom whispered as he unlocked the cuffs, paused for only a moment, then smoothed down his clothes, buckled his trousers, walked to the door, and didn't look back once before her exited their residence. Avoidance, or possibly he didn't want to be reminded of how much the sight of the bruised and battered woman laying on the sofa aroused

Beep Beep Beep. I looked back at the monitor when i realized, her heart-beats back, she's alive. “Oh thank you! You scared me!” I hollered in joy.

It must have been around eight o’clock in the evening when Johnny saw the flickering lights from the tiki torches that were bordering the outdoor terrace. The two had been facing each other for a while now in the hotel’s lounge, and Johnny’s sight of the outdoor terrace gave him the out he needed to get Clarissa to a more secluded and romantic spot. “Pick up your drink…we’re going onto the terrace,” he quickly and bluntly told her with a grin. As soon as she could grab her lemontini with one hand and her purse hanging from her arm, her beau gracefully clasped her other hand and led them both through the crowd of hotel guests to the terrace entryway. She couldn’t help but be turned on by his spontaneous ways and smiled the whole way to the terrace

I looked through the gate to see a blonde, balding man approaching. “The sign is beautiful. I can’t wait to see the rest of the neighborhood,” I called back. “The name’s Jack,” he said, “allow me to open her up.” He reached into his pocket and the thick steel victorian styled bars started to slide back. Once they were open, we stepped through the entrance. “Good to meet you, Jack. My name’s James, and here’s my wife Patricia. Oh, and I shouldn’t forget our boy Willard.” He shook our hands, but all the while, he stared at Willard. There was a mix between a whimper and a growl. “What’s gotten into you, Willard? You usually love strangers,” Patty said while kneeling down and giving him a scratch behind the ears. I clap Jack on the top of his arm to get his attention. “Mind if we take a look around?” He looked up at me as if he were staring off into space when he replied with, “yeah, and I’ll take you two around to the office if you guys feel like settling down here.” “He seems nice,” said Patty, “I can’t wait to meet the rest of

He was on top of her before she saw him coming. The sound of her purse hitting the street came seconds before her own body followed. She protected her skull from hitting the asphalt, but the rest of her body took the brunt of the fall. She couldn’t even get her bearings before hands pinned her to the ground. His knee was on her stomach, making it almost impossible for her to get air in her lungs.

“Is he…? Is he…? Oh! Mon Dieu!” stuttered his wife Amandine, sitting next to her daughter, on their favorite sofa. “Is he really dead?”

Conversations like that had been going on this corner of town for the last couple of days. The reason for this was that a frequent visitor had taken a liking to the "Shiny Sun Pub", a rundown bar that paid no honor to its name. In fact, the only shining thing in this place was the delusions of its owner and manager.

He was just going up to the raptor cage when he noticed her. She didn’t look like a women going to visit raptors. She was wearing those ridiculous heels (ones he wanted digging in his back), a long-sleeved blouse he thought would be too hot for a summer's day (one that he wanted to unbutton, revealing her breasts to him), and a long skirt (that he wanted bunched up in his hands as he pulled it

‘I’m not sure. You see, I don’t feel dead.’ Clemmie admitted. Then she asked a little nervously, ‘How did you…?’

“You better keep your head, little girl. Or I won’t know where I am,” the old man said in a cynical, raspy voice. Michelle froze in terror, fearing if she moved or said a word the man would do something. She stood there silent, she keeps her head down as she tries not to breathe heavily when he says,