Dork Diaries Novelas e Histórias

I'll leave that for a future post if anyone wants to hear. I lived in the country, and was an only child, so no friends near or siblings to experiment with. So one hot summer day I walked the quarter mile down between the fields to the small creek. I wasn't supposed to go down there but mom never paid attention. So I went skinny dipping in the secluded creek. This particular day a rather large, but friendly dog was running around, a Lab mix of some sort. I went to high ground to see if someone was around, but nobody. I had already been jacking off in the creek when the dog came over, tail wagging. I noticed he had a dick like me. So naturally I started touching it and it grew. I started to s

Alex's POV Another useless idle day spent in a boring office full of paperwork and awful bosses who treat me like trash. I was far too annoyed, far too stressed, as I began searching BDSM clubs, submission, and someone else taking control of your life. Somehow it sounded wild yet tugged something within me. The Vault was the name that kept popping up. That was the secret spot where real Doms played rough.

“I heard that diary of yours isn't all rainbows and butterflies. I heard it's got some pretty... interesting content.” My face flushed crimson. How could they possibly know about that? I'd never shown my diary to anyone. It was my private space, the only place where I could be honest about my thoughts, my fears, my… “Never thought a girl like you could have such dirty thoughts,” Derek said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that made my skin prickle. “All those dark fantasies you write about. The things you want to do. The things you want done to you.”

"You are crazy" "Crazy is my middle name". Dora and I have been best friends since when I came to Madison High in freshman year, she's the only one who knows I'm adopted but she doesn't know the other secrets. She's pretty, optimistic and did I mention she's a psychotic bitch. She has short dark hair with olive colored eyes and a willow figure. Dora Rodriguez. And also she's smart like super smart, she never gets into trouble with any teachers. "I saw you almost got ran over". She open her locker taking her things. "By Nessa Quinn".

What is written inside it? She did not sleep. She sat at her small desk with her laptop open and the cursor blinking in an empty search bar and thought about where you even begin when what you are looking for has no name and no shape and the only person who knows anything about it is a girl who tried to kill you four hours ago. She typed: dark journal occult. Deleted it. Typed: ancient journals with hidden locations. Deleted that too. She pushed back from the desk and pressed her palms flat on her knees and stared at the ceiling.

My fingers began flying across the mechanical keyboard, creating a sharp, rhythmic clacking sound in the quiet room. "Dorian Voss," I muttered aloud, pronouncing each letter as I typed the name into the search bar. The surrounding room was completely dark, save for the soft, bluish glow of the laptop screen illuminating my features. "There should at least be something online about Dorian," I whispered to myself, watching the loading icon spin in the center of the display. The network signal in this sprawling mansion wasn't particularly strong, so it took another agonizing thirty seconds for the web page to fully render.

I can't see his face and I don't have a plan on looking at it. "Dawson speaking. How may I help you?" I say calmly but I received no response but a chuckle. His deep voice seemed to ragged. It makes my eyes widen when slipped something beneath the door as it hit my foot. I looked back at the monitor but he's not there anymore. I almost cringed at the thought of ghosts, silly. I picked up the paper as I looked at the fronts "take a peek". Strange. Do I really need to look at it? Well, maybe later. I'm still hungry though. I slipped it in my pocket then make my way back to the dining room.

“...No. You misunderstood. I'm not hungry or thirsty anymore. I just want to talk to you.” “...rrr,” Dior replied, whether Farrah understand or not it seems that he really didn't care. This kind of dynamic reminds Farrah of kidnapping, the way Dior acted towards her looked like something an abductor would do. “How have you been? It must have been hard? But even though you are now a zombie, you still manage to become stronger and even retain some basic human intelligence. You're so great. I-I'm so glad.” She stuttered, stopping herself from being emotional.

I dart into the kitchen and scream and laugh like a maniac when I'm picked up from the floor. "I got you now!" Dior announces. "You're all mine for the taking!" I kick with my legs, but Dior hardly seems to notice. I'm in what I would like to call a hedgehog position, all rolled-up and helpless as Dior dances around with me. "You smell so sweet," Dior nibbles at my neck, sucking in a sensitive spot that makes me cry out. "Oh, are you ticklish? How amusing." "No, stop that! Put me down, please!" I'm laughing tears and barely breathing. I judge I've gone into shock. "Help me! Finn! Anyone! Dior is harassing me!"

I say a little impatiently, she nods and approaches the laptop, Scott turns it to give her access and can carry out the transaction once she does it, she turns to me and comment “So they made it... D and you made it in...” I frown upon hearing that name, that's what they used to call Dark before joining the organization, why? Because wherever he went he always left a trail of death in his wake… D, for Death. “That's right... and you are?...” she asked, since she finally caught my attention, she smiles and comments wistfully “ready ...” Scott interrupts us verifying the transaction “I doubt very much that you remember me, but let's say that I am one of the many survivors that they ran into on