So this is my first story. Any feedback is appreciated, hope you enjoy.
I'm stressed out. Like really so damn stressed. My parents were out of town, something about a vacation retreat that they "needed" to drop everything for and go.
I've never been home alone, and I'm 18. I'm wearing a loose tank top and short shorts as I'm trying to occupy my mind by studying for final exams even though my grades were perfect I just needed something to make me not think about someone walking into my house.
It was finally here, my time to retire. I had been a Navy Seal for 10 years and my body and mind was in need of a rest; and by rest of course I mean an easy job like a security guard for a pharmaceutical company. The worst of anything that could happen at a place like this was some raging lunatic storming the front desk asking for a refund because the medicine his wife was taking turned her into a rabid zombie.
Everyone in this story is over the age of 18.
Hello my name is Emma and I was finally on my way home from a hard day at court. I was a lawyer for a very well respected law firm. Our firm focused on defending the those that must would call guilty. Today I had helped clear a man that I'm pretty sure was guilty. I have never felt too bad about it before but for some reason today had left a bad taste in my mouth.
Everyone in this story is over the age of 18.
If you have not read part 1, I would recommend going back and reading it now.
It had been over a week now since I last saw Luke. He had all the control now as I did not get his number in return. Work had been stressing me out more then ever and I needed some release. I would pleasure myself every night but it did not have the same effect that a night with Luke did.
PART ONE:
In an alternate universe, Nate's charges weren't dropped. His lawyer advised him to stop fighting and take the plea.
In that alternate universe, Nate reported to prison to serve out his two-year term (carefully negotiated, the sentence was much lower than it could have been and his taking it avoided the risk of a jury proving him guilty and sending him away for decades).
In that alternate universe, Nate arrived at the jail with nothing but the clothes on his back.
Finally getting home from work, I walk into the dimly lit apartment. I realize that things are out of place. I look up and see him standing before me, silent, powerful. I know I am in for a good session tonight.
He looks at me, cocks his head to the side and says, "Strip, slut."
I obey without hesitation or even a questioning glance. I know better. He guides me over to the couch and orders me to sit.