Did you enjoy my A to Z Stories? If you want me to continue writing one of those stories, vote for it by liking the post, leaving a positive comment, or voting on this Google Form! If you vote using the Google Form, you can enter into a drawing to win a free copy of the e-book! (More details in my Theme Review.)

This week’s kinky stories were:

1. T is for Tunnel
2. U is for Unlocked
3. V is for Vacation
4. W is for Wish
5. X is for Xerox
6. Y is for Yes
7. Z is for Zoo

We have reached the end of the A to Z Challenge. Woah!

Come back May 8th to read the continuation of the favorite story from Week 1! Each Tuesday following, I’ll have another story for you so keep coming back!

Thanks for reading! Keep in touch. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy Z is for Zoo.

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She went to the zoo on a Sunday afternoon for a stroll. It was a local zoo, and she had a membership, so it didn’t cost her anything. It was beautiful. The animals were well cared for. Some of them weren’t even ‘on display’ because they were actually there for rehabilitation, not so much as exhibits. She loved walking through. It was great exercise, and the scenery was beautiful. She was a young, single woman, and had nowhere else to be, so why not?

When she got to the far end of the zoo, one of the guys who worked there caught her eye. He was feeding some sheep. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she replied. She was used to seeing him around and didn’t think anything of his friendliness.

“Do you want to come feed the sheep?”

Me? She mouthed to him, pointing at herself, looking around to see if there was anyone else he could be talking to.

“Yeah, you,” he laughed. “Come on.”

“Yeah, okay,” she replied, and she approached the fence.

At the back of her mind, she knew that it was late. The zoo would be closing in about half an hour because the sun was starting to set. She wasn’t sure how much longer she was allowed to be there, but if an employee was with her, she couldn’t see the harm in it.

He stopped feeding the sheep and gestured toward the gate to the area. She met him there, and he opened it for her. “I’m Vito.” He extended his hand for her to shake.

She did, and said, “I’m Simone.”

“Hi,” he said again, and something passed across his face that she couldn’t identify.

“Hi,” she echoed with a giggle.

“Come on,” he said, and he took her over to where the sheep were grazing. He showed her how they were gentle and how to pet them. He helped her feed them the special food he had. Before she knew it, it was twilight, and no zoo patrons were wandering around.

“I—” she said, feeling unsure of herself, looking around.

“What?” he asked, his eyes intent on her.

“I don’t think I should still be here. Isn’t the zoo closed?”

He didn’t take his eyes off of her. “It’s okay; you’re with me.”

She nodded, but she felt unsure.

“Come on, let’s go wash our hands,” he said, and he put one hand on the small of her back to propel her toward a small building nearby that had an office and some bathrooms in it.

“Is this your office?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “though most of it is just storage for the animal feed and supplies for them. Plus the bathrooms.”

“Cool,” she said, trying to smile brightly, but feeling more and more uncomfortable by the moment.

“Go ahead in,” he said, indicating the door to the building. She stepped into the darkness and pushed the bathroom door open. He smiled at her and opened another door that said Men on it. She went into the bathroom and washed her hands, feeling like she was being ridiculous for worrying about Vito. He seemed like a standup guy.

But when she opened the door to the hallway, the feeling returned full force. “Vito?” she called out softly.

“In here,” he called from the third door along the short hallway. She looked in and saw that he was in his office, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Oh!” she gasped. “I’m sorry,” and she spun around.

“No!” he called back. “I’m sorry, I just had to change my shirt. You were quicker than I thought,” he said, but as he came around the desk to the doorway, he wasn’t putting his shirt on.

And when she reached the door to the outside, she found that it was locked, and she couldn’t figure out how to get it open. She turned around to ask Vito’s help, and he was standing right behind her.

“Don’t scream,” he said menacingly. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Her eyes were wide, and she felt like her whole body was in shock. “Hurt me?” she asked in a squeaky voice.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeated, and he took her hands in his and pulled her away from the locked door. “Trust me?”

She didn’t trust him, not for a moment, but she felt frozen. She let him guide her to the office. She wasn’t sure how she could get out of the situation if she wanted to, but she wasn’t entirely sure she even wanted to. Vito was cute, and despite the fact that he had her locked in a little building with no one else around, she was intrigued by what he was going to do with her. She felt more than a little turned on, even if what he was doing was wrong.

She had been quiet so long, he repeated, “Trust me?”

She nodded, despite herself.

He took her into his arms and kissed her. She expected to feel repulsed, but instead, she just felt more turned on. He was a good kisser. Really good. His tongue probed her mouth as his hand slid under her shirt. She felt a flutter of panic, but mostly she was aroused. He was going to take advantage of her, and she wasn’t going to fight it, at least not too much.

---

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy Y is for Yes.

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Winner! This post won for week 4. Check out the continuation here.

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Why did I say yes? What was I thinking? I should have said no. I should have walked away. I should have…

But it was too late now.

When my boss asked me to work late, I said yes, and here I was, working until midnight.

I worked in a finance office, and I was the low (wo)man on the totem pole. So, when the boss needed someone to oversee a software update that was going to run late, he asked me. And I said yes because I wanted to impress the boss. I was an idiot.

I sighed and spun around in my desk chair. At 25, I was sometimes restless in an office job. But it paid well, and I generally liked the people I was working with. I had never worked this late before. I stopped spinning in the chair and decided to get up and get a cup of coffee from the kitchen. I had never worked this late previously, and the building was so much darker than I thought it would be.

My heels clicked on the tile floor in the hallway. The sound was ominous, and I felt a thrill of fear. I tugged at the hem of my skirt to pull it down and cover more of my legs. Then I pulled the collar of my sweater up around my face. I felt more protected that way. Each section of the hall lights turned on automatically as I walked toward the kitchen.

Besides the light I had left on in my office and the hall light, there were no other lights on in the building. The fear intensified into a knot in my stomach. What if someone else were in the building? What if someone were hiding?

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at myself. I had an overactive imagination sometimes. This was clearly one of those times. If someone else were in the building, the automatic lights would be coming on from the movement. I was just being ridiculous.

I went into the kitchen and made my coffee. I brought it back to my desk and sat down. I delved back into work, focusing for a while in the quiet. The hall light turned off on its own after fifteen minutes of no movement. I kept working.

Twenty minutes later, I saw the hall light turn on. The knot of fear in my stomach burst, and I broke out in a cold sweat.

I stood up from my desk and debated. Should I try to close my door quietly? Should I just hide behind my desk? My light. Oh shit, my light was on. That would be obvious even if I did close my door.

By the time I had processed it all, I had heard footsteps, and I was so scared that I fumbled and knocked over the cup of warm coffee. It spilled all down the front of me.

“Shit!” I said aloud before I could stop myself. Oh shit, indeed.

The footsteps came closer to my office door, and I panicked. I dropped to the floor behind my desk and held my breath.

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Winner! This post won for week 4. Check out the continuation here.

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Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy X is for Xerox.

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I watched as the Xerox machine pulled in papers, printed on them, and spit them out the other side. Another page went through. I was transfixed, not because I thought it was interesting, but because I was trying to process something and the repetitive motion of the paper in the machine was helping me to zone out and focus.

I had been a teacher for over ten years. I was single, still relatively young, and had romantic tastes that sometimes went to the taboo, or at least unconventional. Because of that, I had a hard time pursuing romantic relationships. Every person I met seemed to think that I was a teacher and therefore must be boring. It was hard to put in my online dating profile that I was a kinky woman who wanted to be fucked and maybe even beaten. I certainly couldn’t attach my picture to that description, and how many people even looked at profiles without pictures? (Not many, is the answer, in case you were wondering.)

So when someone had expressed an interest online, and the conversation we had included discussing sexual preferences, I was surprised to find someone who felt the same way I did. The problem was that after texting for weeks, he convinced me to send him a nude photo.

I know, I know that was a terrible idea. Terrible with a capital T. Maybe TERRIBLE with all caps. I get it, bad idea. But I really liked him, and I trusted him. But clearly, I had placed my trust in someone I shouldn’t have because now he was blackmailing me.

The school day was over, the kids were gone, and he was texting me assignments under threat of releasing a nude photo of me to my colleagues. Shit.

I sighed heavily and picked up the papers that were done running on the Xerox machine. I glanced at the clock on the wall and knew my time was almost up. I would either have to face the music and let the guy release the picture, or I would have to acquiesce to his request. I knew what choice I was going to make. I didn’t really have much of one, I felt. I didn’t see any way out other than to do what he asked and hope that I could get out of the situation eventually.

I went into my classroom and shut the door. He wanted me to take my panties off and take a picture of them on the floor of my classroom. I was so nervous. If I got caught, it would be a lot worse than someone spreading the picture around. So much worse. Thankfully I had worn a skirt by chance, and I slipped my pink panties down around my ankles and over my feet so they were on the floor. I took a picture and quickly put them back on.

I sent the picture off and took a few deep breaths. That hadn’t been so bad, in the end, had it? Plus, it was kind of hot. I was really turned on. I noticed when I put my panties back on that I was really wet.

But what would come next?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

My phone buzzed on my desk, and I looked at the text. “Good girl,” it said. “Now take those panties and put them in your mouth. I hope you can get them all the way in your mouth because you have to walk to your car with them in. I want a selfie before, during, and after.”

Shit.

I slipped the panties back off, and sure enough, there was a large wet spot on them.

I wore bikini panties usually, and that’s what I was wearing today. Getting them entirely in my mouth might be difficult, but I thought I could do it. I started shoving them in, and after a few tense moments managed to get my lips around them. I took a selfie with my mouth closed and one with my mouth open. I sent them both.

Then I finished packing up my stuff and headed out. I took the stairwell at the end of the hall that was used less frequently. I watched for security cameras and made sure I had my back to one when I took a selfie. I didn’t expose the panties in my mouth this time. I hoped that it would be enough.

Finally, I made it to my car. I took two more selfies and then started the car and pulled out. I didn’t want to take them out of my mouth in the parking lot. What if someone saw me!?

When I was a few blocks from the school at a stoplight, I got another text. “Take the panties out of your mouth and put them back on. Send a picture. You have five minutes.”

I found a place I could pull over safely and slide them back on. They were wet and felt gross against my skin, but I took a picture and sent it off.

This time, I also said something. “I need to drive home. Please give me twenty minutes.”

I didn’t pull out again until I got a reply. “Fine, but there will be consequences to that. Expect a long assignment when you get home.”

Oh boy.

I didn’t know what to make of that, but I could feel my pussy getting wetter at the thought of all the terrible things he could make me do, and all because I had been stupid enough to send him that nude selfie.

---

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy W is for Wish.

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I was wishing I was anywhere else but here. But this was a situation I couldn’t wish myself out of. This was one I was stuck in. Literally, in fact, because I was tied to a bed.

Okay, “tied” wasn’t really accurate. I had Velcro restraints on my wrists and ankles, and they were clipped to straps that ran under the king-sized bed I was lying on. I was completely naked and staring at the inside of a blindfold.

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure how I had ended up here. I remember getting out of my car at the library in the underground garage. And then… I woke up here. That’s all I could remember. I mean, I remembered things like my name (Laney) and what day of the week it was (Saturday). But as for where I was or who I was with, I had no idea.

Part of me knew that I should be more afraid, but I was surprisingly calm. I was silent as a mouse, listening to the ambient sounds, trying to pick up on anything distinctive. I heard nothing out of the ordinary. I didn’t even hear the footsteps of my captor.

I must have drifted off because I felt something on my nipple. I wasn’t sure what it was at first but then the pain bit into me, and I knew a clamp had been put on me. Another one followed on the other nipple, and I gasped in pain that time. I took a few deep breaths to fight through the sting of the clamps, and I was just getting used to them when the chain that connected them was pulled. My back arched and I lifted as far off the bed as I could. I knew I was whimpering, but I couldn’t help it.

“Does that hurt?” he asked in a mocking tone. Who ‘he’ was, I didn’t know, but at least now I knew it was a guy who had me.

I didn’t know if I should actually respond, so I didn’t. I bit my lip instead.

“I said, does that hurt?” he repeated, and he tugged on the clamps.

“Yes!” I gasped.

“Yes, Sir,” he corrected.

“Yes, Sir,” I repeated, and then I moaned in pain.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

I was confident this was a trick question, but I answered it honestly anyway. “Stop pulling on the clamps? Yes, Sir.”

He tugged again and then let them go. I fell back onto the bed gasping.

His hand trailed across my stomach and then lower. He slipped a finger between the folds of my pussy.

“My, my, my,” he said, “you are very wet.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said. There was no denying it.

“Does it turn you on to not even know what I look like?”

Again, I wanted to lie, but I knew there was no point. My body was betraying my desire. “Yes, Sir.”

“Then I better not let you see me,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

I didn’t respond because I didn’t know what to say.

His finger slipped out of me and trailed down my full thigh down to my feet. He tickled me, and I squealed. “Ticklish?” he asked.

“Very much so, Sir,” I said.

He started really tickling my feet then, and I couldn’t help but laugh and squirm on the bed. I couldn’t shake him off, though I tried. I could feel myself getting wetter at the realization of just how helpless I was in this situation.

“Please, Sir, please stop,” I began to beg, but he kept tickling me.

Eventually, he stopped, and I took some deep breaths, trying to work past the pain in my nipples that had been masked by the tickling.

“Do you want those clamps off?” he asked.

I nodded, biting my lip.

He laughed at me. “Too bad.”

He pulled on the chain again, and I screamed. I couldn’t help it. The pain was just overwhelming. He let go of the chain again, and I fell back to the bed.

“Have you ever worn nipple clamps before?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

“So you know that the worst part has yet to come.”

“Yes, Sir.”

And even though I knew it, and even though I thought he was going to do it then, I screamed even louder when he pulled the clamps off all at once. As the blood rushed back to my poor tortured nipples, the pain was excruciating. Worse than it had been from anything else he had done. I writhed on the bed as much as I could given the restraints holding me down.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and then he brushed his fingers across my aching nipples, and I whimpered. “I love hearing you whimper like that.”

I found myself whimpering more after his comment.

“You are such a good little slut,” he praised, whispering right in my ear.

“Thank you, Sir,” I whispered back.

And then he was gone. I heard his steps retreating and then a door open in close. Then I heard nothing. And I wondered where he had gone and when he would be back to torture me some more.

---

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy V is for Vacation.

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Vacation! The best week of the year!

Every year, I took two weeks off work to go to the beach. Depending on my finances, I would either go to the East Coast or the West Coast. Unfortunately, I was a beach girl living in the mid-west. Someday I wanted to move to a coast, but it just wasn’t feasible yet. So instead, I would plan vacations there.

This year, it was the East Coast: Maine. I found a nice bed and breakfast that was right across the street from the public beach. It had a pool and balconies. I had booked a beautiful room with a balcony.

On the second night of my vacation, I sat out on my balcony looking out over the ocean with a glass of wine. I glanced over and saw that there was a guy on the next balcony over, with a glass of wine in his hand, too.

“Hello,” he said when he saw me glancing over at him.

“Hi,” I said, shyly.”

“Cheers,” he said raising his glass to me.

“Cheers,” I echoed.

“Are you on vacation?” he asked.

“Yes, you?”

“Yep.”

I smiled back at him but didn’t know what else to say. I hadn’t been looking for a conversation, but then again, having a little company might be nice.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Kansas,” I replied.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“A little far away from home, aren’t you?”

I giggled. “Yeah, but I like the ocean.”

“Me, too,” he said. “I live in Pennsylvania, but I just love Maine.”

“It’s beautiful here,” I replied. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Oh!” he said. “I come here every summer. I could show you around if you want.”

I thought for a moment. Having a friend wouldn’t be a bad thing. “Sure, that would be nice.”

“Great,” he said. And he grinned. “I’ll come knock on your door tomorrow at nine?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “I should probably get to bed anyway.”

@}–}—–

In the morning, he knocked on the door precisely when he said he would.

“Hey,” I said when I opened the door.

“Good morning!” he handed me a coffee in a paper cup. I took it gratefully.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Doesn’t everyone drink coffee in the morning?”

I laughed. “I don’t think everyone does, but I do!” I sipped it and moaned softly. “This is amazing coffee.

“It’s from the hotel lobby.”

“Really? Well, it’s amazing.”

He chuckled. “I think you’re just caffeine deprived. It’s not that great.”

“That absolutely may be!” I agreed.

“Shall we?” he asked.

We walked out into the hallway, and I shut the door behind me. I felt exhilarated to be embarking on the small town to explore.

@}–}—–

He felt exhilarated, too. But his exhilaration came from the fact that he knew he would be getting laid when they got back. Maybe she would agree with him, and they could have sex willingly. But he honestly didn’t care. If she weren’t willing, he would have her anyway.

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Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy T is for Tunnel.

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At the end of the street where I live, there’s a tunnel. It’s a short tunnel, maybe 25 feet in length. But it turns at a sharp enough angle that you can’t see out the other side until you’re in the tunnel. Most of the time, I avoid it. I don’t like that I can’t see what’s coming. It makes me supremely uncomfortable. But the path around the tunnel takes me an extra half mile out of my way. So sometimes, there’s no way around it.

Today is one of those days.

@}–}—–

I take a deep breath as I enter the tunnel. I almost want to hold my breath as I did as a child when we would drive through tunnels, but it will take me too long to get through. I don’t walk that fast. I am listening intently, hoping that I don’t hear any sounds, but I am disappointed. There are footsteps ahead of me, and they sound like they are coming closer. Damn.

The first thing I see as I follow the curve of the tunnel is a pair of shoes. They are nice shoes. Big. You know what they say about men with big feet, I chuckle to myself. Then a pair of khaki pants. Nice pants. Pressed. This guy is pretty dressed up for a walk down the sidewalk. I wonder if he’s coming or going. But then I see his face, and the color drains from mine. The look on his face is dark. Foreboding. I am not sure what to make of it, but I am sure it’s not good.

I stick to my side of the tunnel, hoping to pass without incident. I am not that lucky.

As he approaches, he reaches out and grabs me, his hand curling around my upper arm. I am sure his grip will leave a bruise. He pulls me close to him and swings me around so that my back presses against his front. He performs the motion so smoothly that I know this isn’t the first time he’s done it. His other hand clamps over my mouth, but I wasn’t going to scream anyway. My brain has shut down, and I am too surprised to think. I’m too surprised to remember to inhale so I can cry out.

I am wearing a short skirt, and he releases my arm and pulls the skirt up to my waist. I am wearing bikini panties that connect at my hips with a short string. His strong hands snap the string, and my panties fall to the ground. Instantly, I feel my pussy get wet with desire. I’m surprised at the force of my arousal. He bites into my neck, right where it smooths into the curve of my shoulder, and I realize that he must have opened the fly on his pants because he’s pushing his cock into me. He’s biting me like an animal, holding onto its conquest without hands. One hand is still over my mouth, and the other is now fondling my clit, rubbing it in time with the thrusts of his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

I can’t help it. I can’t help my body’s reaction, and I can feel my orgasm building and building and building, until finally… I cry out, unable to stop myself. My pussy pulses, milking the cum from his cock as he fucks me. As his cock softens and slips from my tender folds, I feel some of his cum slide out with it and run down my leg.

His hands slowly retreat from around my body, but before he moves away from me, he whispers, “Same time next week?”

I answer his question with a nod.

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Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.