Stories (14)
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The Siren's Noose*
Maria lay strapped to the interrogation couch, her naked body tense and trembling. Her olive skin glistened under the harsh lights of the Orb’s interrogation cell, her curves displayed against the cold, white surface of the machine. The couch was tilted back at a 45-degree angle, and though her head was supported, the rest of her body was painfully exposed. Her arms were tightly secured at her sides, but her legs were held wide apart by metal clamps. She was creating a Y shape, her groin exposed. Every instinct told her to close her thighs, to shield her sex organs. She tested the bonds again, her muscles straining as she tugged with her arms, her thighs trembling as she tried to pull her legs together. But the restraints only dug deeper into her skin, reminding her of how helpless she was. She looked magnificent, her figure perfect, but it didn’t matter. This vulnerability terrified her.
By James Missagliaabout a year ago in Filthy
A Girl's Night Out. Content Warning.
The wooden walls of the bar were literally vibrating with the music, a primal beat that made you want to sway, to give in to the heat of the night. The dance floor was packed, the air was humid, and electric. Brazil isn’t a cool country and tonight was all about sweat and drums.
By James Missagliaabout a year ago in Filthy
A Hot Day in Tuscany
It was a hot day in Tuscany. Karla gripped the wheel of her sleek sports car as it wound through the sun-dappled mountain roads of Italy. Her foot had the accelerator hard to the floor. The curves were thrilling, the wind rushing over her face, her hair slipping loose from her Hermes carf. She felt utterly free, intoxicated by the rolling hills and the glimmering villages that nestled in the far distance, fading into pastel colours.
By James Missagliaabout a year ago in Filthy
And The Winner Is.... Content Warning.
The ministry of Justice’s corridors glistened with their usual, unnerving sterility. Shanrin could feel gravity on her bones, pulling her to Earth after six months in the artificial version aboard the Orb. There was something sensual in it's simplicity. That feeling of her heels hitting the floor, the pressure of real gravity. And the scent of real air, laced with traffic fumes. Tonight, she had only one plan: a fine meal, a glass of something red. And maybe an hour or two to herself, away from the insistent hum of machines and heaps of paperwork. All she had to do was give her report and go on leave back to Virginia.
By James Missagliaabout a year ago in Fiction
Windows of pleasure, windows of.... Content Warning.
Margot lay back on the cool, worn leather, her breaths coming slow and measured. The latex of her dress hugged her body like a second skin, slick and almost too tight, restricting every move she made. She flexed her wrists against the straps again, testing them, but there was no give—they held her in place with unnerving finality. A chill spread through her, though it had nothing to do with the cold steel walls of the interrogation cell. She was on the Orb, the shadowy blacksite that everyone knew existed but no one dared speak about openly. They kept it for whispers.
By James Missagliaabout a year ago in Filthy
So Are You Saying Yes... ?
Picture the scene: we are in the dungeons of the inquisition, deep below Toledo. The shivering victim has been undressed, "examined," and is now lashed across a bench in the flickering torchlight. A grim figure approaches, in his hands—a devilish instrument of torture. The orange glow of the brazier reflects from its jagged metal surface. The victim's eyes widen. Her pretty lips are quickly moistened in fear (and... just perhaps... arousal?)
By James Missaglia7 years ago in Filthy
All the Colors of Sin - Rose
When just a little can be too much. You have to understand, I could only do this to Alice because she’s so beautiful. A heartbreaker. The sort of woman you see at a restaurant and your date pales by comparison. Your whole evening just seems dulled because you’re not with Alice, you’re with Sarah from accounts. It’s a form of beauty that doesn’t need to be touched, just looked at. Though normally we touch a lot, kissing, screwing, you name it. Our sex life was still at the stage of experimenting when we were in the sack and texting each other when we were stuck at work. Usually about what we wanted to do to each other the next time we got our clothes off.
By James Missaglia8 years ago in Filthy
All the Colors of Sin - Pink (Part One)
Thomasina adored her master. He was a man of obscure tastes and barely controlled passions. She knew that he loved her and she enjoyed the affection and attention that he showed. Unlike so many previous boyfriends, he was not afraid to express his feelings and unlike previous Doms, he did not see kindness as some form of weakness. Cooking breakfast for them both did not undermine his control in the bedroom. If you saw them out for an evening you would judge them as an attractive couple who were concerned with each other's happiness. Normal. Exchanging the banter and teasing that all couples do, from time to time.
By James Missaglia8 years ago in Filthy
Waiting for the Rain
She dressed herself the way she knew he liked. High heeled boots of black leather. Gloves that came down to the wrist. Her collar— she could not be without that. She washed her hair, and dabbed at herself with Angel, and made her face up the way he enjoyed. Dark red lips, slightly-gothic eyeliner. It created the theatrical look her master demanded.
By James Missaglia8 years ago in Filthy
