Dc Sensory Deprivation Tank Novels & Stories

"Oops, I did it again. I played with your heart, got lost in the game.” I close my eyes; I am enjoying the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. The sound of my voice echoing across the fields. Then I open my eyes; I am scared out of my mind by someone standing over me. "Where did you come from?! You should not creep up on people!" "I can ask you the same thing, what the hell are you doing out here?" His eyes run over my body, and I can see amusement build in his smile. "I never thought I would see the day that I find a clearly lost woman in a wedding dress in the back seat of a car singing to Britney Spears." Tyler Moore is the Sheriff of a small town far out from the city. With a body that is carved to perfection, this soft-spoken man should not be underestimated. Even though he is elegant and yet powerful, there is far more than lives underneath the façade that he brings. Jenna Davis, a girl that decides to leave her husband at the altar, runs away to the small little town where Tyler lives. She gets stuck on the side of the road in nothing but an empty tank, a wedding dress, and singing to Britney Spears. Tyler is the one that finds the poor damsel on the side of the road. Even though he finds her situation amusing, he is immediately captivated by her. She pushes him to his limits and brings the danger that he craves, that he desires. The two soon send off on a whirlwind relationship, but there is one thing that Tyler refuses to give…his heart. Will Jenna ultimately win his heart?

"Oops, I did it again. I played with your heart, got lost in the game.” I close my eyes; I am enjoying the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. The sound of my voice echoing across the fields. Then I open my eyes; I am scared out of my mind by someone standing over me. "Where did you come from?! You should not creep up on people!" "I can ask you the same thing, what the hell are you doing out here?" His eyes run over my body, and I can see amusement build in his smile. "I never thought I would see the day that I find a clearly lost woman in a wedding dress in the back seat of a car singing to Britney Spears." Tyler Moore is the Sheriff of a small town far out from the city. With a body that is carved to perfection, this soft-spoken man should not be underestimated. Even though he is elegant and yet powerful, there is far more than lives underneath the façade that he brings. Jenna Davis, a girl that decides to leave her husband at the altar, runs away to the small little town where Tyler lives. She gets stuck on the side of the road in nothing but an empty tank, a wedding dress, and singing to Britney Spears. Tyler is the one that finds the poor damsel on the side of the road. Even though he finds her situation amusing, he is immediately captivated by her. She pushes him to his limits and brings the danger that he craves, that he desires. The two soon send off on a whirlwind relationship, but there is one thing that Tyler refuses to give…his heart. Will Jenna ultimately win his heart?

Just then, he pulled her closer to him and placed his hands softly on her waist. Belle’s heart was racing faster than it had ever done before. She couldn’t believe what was happening. He was taller than her and she loves a man who was taller than her. Ronnie’s brain reeled from sensory overload. Belle’s honeysuckle scent,her red velvet lips, shoved him to the brink. It had been a long time. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman the way he wanted her. He leaned forward, looking into her eyes, he whispered in her ear with a soft voice; “Can i kiss you?” Belle was almost trembling but not because she was afraid. It was because she had waited for this moment and it was finally happening. She stared right back into his eyes and nodded in consent. Ronnie smiled at her softly. She could tell he was pleased by her approval. He pulled her closer again. This time, so his body was brushing against hers. Her boobs were touching his broad and chiseled chest. He could see her black bra through the dress she wore which showed off her cleavage. It drove him wild seeing them. She felt him nudging at her lower thighs. He felt really big she thought. He breathed deeply as he ran his hands through her hair and face. He softly held her chin up closer to his face so his lips could touch her soft moisturized lips and then he kissed her. Her lips felt so soft he couldn’t stop kissing them. She wondered if she had finally found the perfect guy to prove to her friends she’s a real lover girl and not a nonchalant girl who hates or doesn’t really care about love.

Mmm, yeah … That was the sound I heard one night when my mom’s new boyfriend was fucking her senseless through the thin walls of our house. Just two months after my dad left, Marcus moved in — tall, ripped, and dripping with raw, cocky confidence. From the very first day, when I opened the door in my tight tank top and caught him staring hungrily at my full, heavy tits and pointy nipples, I knew he was trouble. But nothing prepared me for the nights. Night after night, their room becomes a den of pure filth. The bed slams against the wall like a drum. Wet, sloppy sounds fill the air as he pounds into her — skin slapping loudly, her desperate moans turning into broken screams of “Yes, Daddy! Harder… give me that big cock!” while he growls back, “You love taking this dick, don’t you, you dirty little slut?” I lie in my bed just down the hall, panties soaked, thighs clenched, hating how much it turns me on. I try to resist. I really do. But soon my hand is sliding down my stomach, fingers circling my swollen clit as I picture myself in her place. I imagine Marcus’s strong hands gripping my hips, his thick, throbbing cock stretching me wide open, fucking me deeper than my mom could ever handle. I ride my vibrator furiously to the rhythm of their fucking, biting my pillow so they won’t hear me cum… but I always do. How long before I stop just listening… and let my mother’s boyfriend want me instead?

Outside the police tape surrounding a fancy hotel, a police officer can be seen blocking my way. "There seems to be a bomb hidden in the hotel! Unauthorized personnel are not allowed to get any closer!" I'm just about to dig out my work badge when the intern next to me, Christine Wyatt, covers her mouth in a pretentiously shocked manner. "Officer, there's a detonator and a timer in his bag! Those things look so scary!" The entire scene goes eerily silent. Almost immediately, I see a few guns getting aimed at my forehead. Anxiety begins overwhelming me. "I'm a bomb disposal expert from the Headquarters Explosive Ordnance Disposal Unit! My bag contains all the tools necessary to dispose of a bomb!" "Throw your bag over to me and keep your hands where I can see them!" Captain Scott Hunter roars at me. My bag is opened afterward. Things like an insulated cutter, a bomb suppression blanket, and a liquid nitrogen cooling tank are scattered across the ground. Before I can explain myself, Christine suddenly points at me while screaming, "Why are you still playing dumb? You just told me that you wanted to set off an explosion in that hotel! "What, now that the police are here, you dare not admit what you just said, huh? You're a terrorist through and through!" Scott reacts quickly by pinning me on the hood of the police cruiser with my hands folded behind my back. "We're taking you back for a thorough interrogation!" My heart almost stops at those words. The bomb that's packed with enough firepower to take out half a street has already gone on a countdown in the hotel lobby. But I, the only bomb disposal expert who can get rid of the bomb, have handcuffs put on me because of Christine's nonsensical accusations. Right now, there are only 29 minutes left before the bomb goes off.

Synopsis of The Vans International Billionaire Julian Vance is a hyper-focused, notoriously paranoid tech billionaire weeks away from launching an autonomous shipping empire that will redefine global logistics. Driven by the ghost of his father’s financial ruin, Julian trusts no one and relies strictly on cold, hard logic. But when a catastrophic routing error threatens to tank his company’s imminent IPO, he leaves a chaotic, failed algorithm scrawled across his penthouse office glass wall in a fit of midnight rage. By morning, the multi-billion-dollar mathematical bottleneck has been flawlessly solved by an anonymous outsider who left behind a sarcastic sticky note. The mathematical savior is Maya Lin, a fiercely independent young woman working two exhausting jobs—grocery cashier by day and night-shift commercial janitor by night—to fund her younger brother’s critical cerebral palsy treatments. Guided by an intuitive, self-taught mind for numbers, Maya simply couldn't look past the broken syntax. When Julian discovers the breach on security footage, his lifelong paranoia flares. Convinced Maya is a highly trained corporate spy sent by his bitterest rival, he decides to keep his enemy close. He pulls her out of the shadows, forcing her into a high-stakes, 24/7 role as his personal executive assistant. Trapped in a world of intense corporate deadlines and forced proximity, the firewall between them crumbles. Maya handles Julian’s high-pressure lifestyle with unvarnished honesty, even anchoring him through a severe panic attack, while Julian discovers the raw brilliance and desperate family sacrifices behind her defensive exterior. But when a real, devastating cyberattack leaks the proprietary code, the engineered evidence frames Maya. To claim a future together, Julian must choose between the ruthless, defensive logic that built his empire or calculating the ultimate wildcard: trusting the woman who rewrote his entire life.

*Smut After her mate's brutal rejection, healing prodigy Sandra surrenders to a dangerously seductive stranger in a dark alley, only to discover he's her uncle Marcus. Trapped by blackmail in his isolated house, forbidden desire ignites between lessons. But Marcus harbors a deadly secret about her father's death. ----------------- “Fuck, Sandra,” he growled, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric until it stiffened, aching. “Vanessa’s right upstairs. If she hears us—” “I don’t care,” I panted, rocking up against him, chasing that thick pressure. “Make me forget today. Just tonight. Please.” I’m going straight to hell,” he muttered, then closed the gap. His mouth took mine slow this time, deliberate, like he was memorizing the taste of me. I sighed into it, hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. He tasted like black coffee and smoke and sin, and I wanted more. He tugged me closer, one hand fisting in my hair, the other splayed low on my back, pressing me against him. Heat flared low in my belly, spreading fast. I shifted, trying to ease the ache between my thighs, and he groaned against my lips, grip tightening. His tongue traced the seam of my mouth; I opened for him instantly, meeting him stroke for stroke until we were both breathing hard. He tilted my head back, lips moving down my throat, teeth grazing the frantic beat of my pulse. I gasped, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. “We should stop,” he rasped against my skin, but his hand was already pushing under my thin tank top, calloused palm gliding up my ribs. “We should,” I agreed breathlessly, then dragged his mouth back to mine, kissing him deeper, hungrier.

The second day after I was transferred back to Los Angeles, I ran into someone I used to know on a street corner. She stepped right in front of me, eyes going wide. “Mia? Mia Rossi? Why would you come back now? Dante's marrying Camille at the cathedral in a week.” Dante was my first love, and also the youngest heir to a mafia dynasty on this side of the Atlantic. He'd made me a promise once: that he'd make the entire Moretti family kneel and welcome me in. We had a deal: the day he officially took over as Don would be the day he married me. But his family had other plans. They arranged a match for him: Camille, a princess from one of Sicily's five great families. Pure bloodline, the genuine article. At first, Dante swore up and down she meant nothing to him. Less than nothing. Then I started noticing how he looked at her. Softer every time. Like he was falling. One night, riding home after a shift at the bar, Camille's car came out of nowhere and took me down. The gas tank caught, and half the block reeked of burning rubber and scorched metal. I was pinned under the wreckage, blood seeping from the back of my skull down my neck, warm at first, then cold. Dante was the first one there. He beat the ambulance. The first thing he did was walk past me. He crouched down, lifted Camille out of the passenger seat, and didn't look at me once, just dropped a few words over his shoulder: “I already called an ambulance. Hang tight. Camille's had too much to drink. I need to get her home.” That was the moment I was done with him. Completely, finally done. While he was gone, I discharged myself. I bought the farthest plane ticket I could find that same night and left without looking back. Five years passed. “Mia, you have no idea.” The woman grabbed my wrist, dropping her voice. “Dante spent years turning half of Europe upside down looking for you. You came back at the right time. He still keeps a seat for you every month on his birthday. Camille's too proud for a lot of things,