Sylvia Plath Short Stories Novels & Stories

Gabriella The silence of the penthouse was suffocating after the door clicked shut behind Derek and his "princess." I paced the length of the living room, my heels clicking against the cold marble, a stark contrast to the chaos running through my head. I felt like a bird whose cage had finally been kicked open, but the sky outside was dark and terrifying. I stared at the phone in my hand, my thumb hovering over Brent’s contact. This was the point of no return. One tap, and I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a traitor. An adulterer.

Later that evening after the Carson’s have gone to bed and the house is quiet, Sylvia got under the covers of her queen sized bed before opening her journal to write her plan. As the young woman started to write her left hand went to her stomach just like every other night before tonight, but instead of being happy about the impending arrival, Sylvia’s heart was heavy for the first time in ten months as her child moved within her. Sylvia continued to write as she thought silently. How would she be able to help her best friend? Would she even allow her to help?

Pondering the possibilities, I suddenly recalled the old house of Friday night. Remembering the bet that I had placed and won with my best friend, that a certain house was not haunted, I was excited to get started on a new day. Now that my night in the house was over, I began thinking about how I was going to ask Tania for a date. Heading for the shower, I pondered what I would do if she said no and turned on the water. Stepping under the warm cascading water, I compared my many fantasies about her with the intimate ghost encounters. There was no way to compare my fantasies of Tania to what I had experienced last night. I was on the road of falling deeply in love with her before we even had

it was an erotic story ,titled the hot kidnapper) I raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in my eyes. I push off from the desk and walk closer, my heels clicking on the floor. “A story, huh? You think you can just walk in here and write a tale for me? How about you show me what you’re made of first? Tell me, what’s your fantasy? What gets you going in the dark?” I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, my large breasts pressing against your arm. (Pushing the paper to you I ask you to read it aloud ,you cheeks turn a faint red as you try to explain you brought the wrong story,I press a finger to your lips shushing you and telling you to read, you read it all)

BEFORE YOU READ Nobody is coming to save you. Themes: Forced Proximity, Snowed In, Size Difference, Breeding Kink. This story features a possessive, reclusive hero who hasn't seen a woman in years. Expect primal play, rough sex, and intense possessiveness. (***) Gabrielle

she said in a small voice. "Take your time, girlfriend," Courtney said. She put her arm around her friend. Sophia looked up. "Your story really got to me, Nick. I kind of...well...I imagined I was the girl in your story. I even..." She looked down again, and I couldn't imagine any more blood going to her face and neck. She shook her head in some kind of decision and looked up. "I even got out my butt plug and went for two clamping orgasms!" she said in a rush.

(And I surely didn’t want her to pull back either! The story involved a woman in college who had gotten fired from her waitress job and was having trouble making ends meet. She moved in with one of her friends and her husband for a time—taking their extra bedroom. Of course, one thing led to another and before the story was halfway through, the three of them were sharing a bed and a home in a continual fuck-fest. I felt Carrie squirming against my back as she read. I could almost feel the hardness of her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. I groaned out loud as her hand pulled slowly out of my shorts to push back a wisp of hair that had fallen across her eyes.

She asked worriedly, "What's the matter with you, Sylvia?" "Oh, it's nothing," Sylvia replied dismissively, even as a faint tremor ran through her legs. She silently conceded the fact that she had definitely gone too far with Ashton the previous night. She then looked over at the radiant Melody and said with a smile, "You should come over here, Melody; I'm going to tell you a story about a legend!" "What kind of legend?" Melody asked, her gaze fixed on Sylvia's face with suspicion. She noticed that Sylvia appeared more radiant and flushed, carrying a noticeable increase in feminine allure. Every subtle movement hinted at a captivating seduction.

He didn’t even pretend not to — his gaze lingered, heavy, before dragging back up to her face. “What the hell am I doing?” she thought. *I should leave. I should really fucking leave right now.* Instead she said, “Page 41. The Plath passage. You circled it like it mattered. Read it back to me if you’re so sure.” Marcus shook his head once, slow. “No. You read it to me.” It felt like a trap. A test. She wanted to pass it. She wanted to fail it spectacularly.

Sylvia suggest softly. Needing privacy from the curious eyes, her pieces of memory come alive, and she goes and stands in the shadows of her living room. She looks at Sylvia but she wasn’t really seeing her. Slowly she allows the images to emerge from their hiding place. “Firstly, when I wake, I look, but I can’t see anything. Everything is in darkness, but when I blinked, a man appears. He is in a blazing inferno, right in front of me. I can see the silhouette of people in the house.” She paused, trying to comprehend her tale.