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An image says so much...

This sounds like a really cool idea, hope you don't mind if I give it a shot.

fuckmeat's image #7​

He had to look twice before he could believe she was there. But there was no doubt about it - crouched behind the countertop, staring at him with half-crazed eyes. The other half was filled with fear shot through with no small amount of malice. She looked like a cross between a mall goth and The Joker. War paint. She'd be too attractive to raiders if she wasn't painted up like a clown from your darkest nightmares. The rusted knife was just garnish. You couldn't cut with it, but it still had a sharp point. That's all you really need; a dull blade just means they'll definitely feel it. He figured she liked knowing they felt it.

"You been hidin' there long?," he asked.

"Long enough," she replied. No tremble in her voice. She was scared but she knew how to control it. That was good - it meant she wouldn't do anything rash.

"Are we gonna have trouble?"

"You tell me."

His pistol was on the table behind him. Could he turn, grab it, aim and shoot before she leaped over the counter and shoved that dirty blade through his throat? He knew that's where she would aim it - after all, that's where he would. He could feel her sizing up his jugular already.

"I'm just lookin' for food," he said, standing stock still. She laid one palm flat on the countertop, the other hand gripping the knife firmly.

"No food," she replied.

"Then I guess I'll go," he said quietly. Her lips curled into a smirk for half a second.

"Who you with?," she asked him.

"Nobody," he said, but whether it was true or false, she had already assumed he was lying.

"You stay there, I think," she said, shifting her weight slightly, making sure she could pounce at a moment's notice. "You stay there and we'll wait to see if 'nobody' comes."

"Fine," he said, frowning and crossing his arms. They watched each other intently and the sun moved across the window, the shadow of a cross stretching across the floor.
 
Monique's #2

"Come and find me!" Jenny ran through the hallway, screaming out a laugh as Brad came barrelling after, a giant grin on his face as he tore his tee off over his head. Her heels nearly lost control as she skidded into the library, still laughing hysterically as she tried to hide behind the oversized red leather chair in the center of the room. "You gotta catch me, catch me!"

Brad was laughing himself, the grin growing so wide it had to be hurting his cheeks as he watched her, leaning over as he waited to pounce. "You little tease... I'm gonna get you, just you wait..."

"Ah-ah-ahh!" She tsk'ed a finger at him, only to shriek again as he shoved the chair completely aside, charging toward her and scooping her into his arms while still on the move. He brought her to the wall of books, nearly slamming her against it as he lifted her up, letting her bottom rest on one of the shelves while his hands moved to caress the now-exposed flesh beneath her little dress.

"Now I get my reward, right?," He mumbled, leaning in to kiss her neck as those hands continued to wander. Up her thigh, beneath the silk, lips meeting her skin as fingers explored. "Such a big house..."

"God I love this place," She moaned, her hips rocking against his growing arousal as her hands worked to undo his belt. "Breaking in every room..."

He kissed the left side of her neck, growling softly. "...Eat in kitchen, formal dining room..."

"Don't forget the living room and den..."

"Hmm-mmm." He looked at her devilishly, groaning as those eager little fingers made it past the barriers of his jeans and made it to find his length, stroking it gently as she spoke on their new home. "Swimming pool... Laundry room..."


"Mister Connor? Missus Connor?" The realtor peeked around the corner of the doorframe, her eyes growing wide at the sight she found and quickly turning back into the hall, her cheeks a vibrant red as she shielded her eyes. "I-I take it you like the house, then?"
 
FM's #6

"The cage is to keep you safe." The voice was warm velvet, a husky seductive sound coming from behind the bales of hay that divided the back of the barn from the front.

Julia looked around, searching for the speaker, waiting to find out just what was wanted from her.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you. Much. Eventually, if you are a good girl, I may even be interested in letting you go home. That could take a while though." The voice had gotten darker, deeper, whiskey rough. The person who stepped out from behind the bales did not really match the voice. At least, not until she had squatted down to catch Julia's eyes with her own black gaze.

"You look delectable. I always wanted my own caged girl..." She smiled then. The darkness which capered in that grin caused Julia to look away.

"Not to worry, sweets. I will let you out soon enough. I am not sure just how much you will enjoy that, though."

The other woman stood up and smiled again. "I will just let you think on your new position for a while."

Those words. That voice. Julia was terrified.
 
Minx's Image Five

monique_minx said:
IMAGE FIVE
http://i266.photobucket.com/albums/ii278/witchywoman_328/sexycouple1.jpg
Click to expand...

Jean was laughing and dancing with her girlfriends like she hadn't in months, she'd broken out of her stupor and they'd decided to take her to a new nightclub. She'd already thrown back several tequila shots and now she was breaking a sweat with some sinfully dirty dancing; very unlike the movie.

However with a break in the music and a parting in the crowd, she spun and swore silently; it was happening again. She'd missed him so much...he was appearing to her, she'd seen him before and knew it wasn't real. It was just so real to her because she wished for him. When the next song started however she turned back to her girlfriends and began to dance up a storm all over again; anything to get him off her mind.

Soon enough a warm body with a chiselled chest was pressed against her back and swaying to the music with her. His hands gliding down her arms in an almost possessive manner, reaching her hips and holding them tightly. Jean frowned then and started to surge forward; pulling away from him but he gripped her once she moved a step and tugged her back; she hit his chest hard and gasped.

His hot breath tingled on her neck as he dipped his head, tossing her brown waves aside as his hand moved up her breasts and groped them with an animalistic tenacity.

"Stop it..." She near whispered and groaned in anger at herself; it was meant to sound louder but clearly this absolute stranger was arousing her.

"Am I not all you want? Am I not real enough for you? Am I not treating you as you deserve?" He whispered harshly into her ear as her eyes flitted about searching for her friends.

She gasped softly and closed her eyes, "You're not...you can't be! You left..." Jean whispered in a tone of panic and terror over her own state of mind and whether or not he was actually real.

He grinned and hovered over a small scar on her neck, he dipped his head and bit hard into her soft flesh. She whimpered louder and louder but none in the club could hear her, try as she might to pull away; he was stronger than he looked. He released her slowly, a warm trickle of blood flowing down the back of her singlet top let her know that scar was an open wound once again.

Jean attempted to spin around but he clamped down on one of her arms and one of her breasts hard to ensure she didn't.

He growled into her ear, "Don't. Move. A muscle."

She began to breathe heavily, she feared what he was doing to her, the sensations he was sending through her veins which seemed both icy and boiling.

"Ste-" She started to speak and his hand moved from her breast to her mouth, cutting her off.

"Tsk tsk Jean. That's a little disrespectful don't you think?" She whimpered through his hand as he spoke in that terrifyingly calm voice she knew so well, his hand left her mouth and moved slowly down her torso, across her breasts and down to what was hidden between her legs by those tight, sexy jeans.

"Now...let's see just what you're hiding from me...from the world..." He started to unbutton her jeans with that single hand but a soft squeak from her gave him pause as the button loosed. His palm flattened against her crotch and began to rub over the fabric.

"What? You don't want to show me? Or you don't want me to see just what you've been doing with that tight little cunt of mine?" He snarled into her ear and she shut her eyes, losing absolute control was not an option but the rising crimson flush in her cheeks betrayed exactly what he was doing to her.

Jean broke then and murmured, "Master don't! Please! I beg you!"

He paused his ministrations and his breath coated her ear, "You keep me coming back for more...now, do you really want me to stop or do you want to come home with me pet?"

She paused, she knew his secrets, she knew him well enough to know that going home with him would have her regretting it. She knew he'd take it out on her, his mistake of letting her go...it would be her fault and she would become the one who left and not the one that was left. Funny thing about love...it makes you absolutely mental, drives you to insanity and back again and leave you panting for more. Thus her answer was all too easy...

"Home..." She breathed and relaxed into his arms, the pain would be worth the pleasure and more than worth the love. Then again, she was the pretty little masochist he'd had so much fun with, not a darker heart than his Jean.

That infamous evil grin she knew was spreading over his lips made its appearance for the first time in months and he growled, "Then you're mine!"
 
Fm #2

The ground crunched like gravel under each of her careful steps. Her rich brown eyes swept her local environment, keenly aware that trouble could be nearby. Signals that she was unaware of were alerting her, forcing her into a heightened state. Her suntanned skin darkened as more blood rushed throughout her body. Each step became more controlled, creating less noise to alert others of her presence. Greasy palms from dear induced sweat tightened their grip of the home made long arm. It was a large caliber weapon that was created from parts to house the bolt, barrel and barely working trigger mechanism. But anything she encountered, her blunderbus would take down with one shot.

Her right foot was starting to rise from the concrete fragments when she thought she heard a noise. Impersonating a statue, only her eyes flickered about looking for the source, while her ears strained to hear over the booming of her pulse within her ears. Her body was screaming for her to run for some cover, rather than standing like a cutout target. Sweat beaded on her forehead, dripping and forming tiny rivulets that ran down her face from under her bandanna.

With speeds matching those of glaciers, the roughly cut stock of the blunderbus was moved to rest against her shoulder. Slow, deliberate footsteps were taken. Her head slowly rotated as her eyes scanned everywhere as rapidly as possible. Her arms ached. Her heart hammered against her chest. Sweat ran into her ears and across her lips. She instinctively rolled her lips; the sharp taste of the salty fluid strangely calming her. Bringing her focus back to where she was, rather than what might be out there.

Her direction of travel changed. The new destination was a doorway with the door still intact and closed. Each step was a little faster, the noise barely audible to her own ears. Each step brought her closer to her safe spot. Still, she knew it was out there, somewhere. Close enough to have her on edge.

An eternity passed before her booted foot came to rest on the concrete step. The remaining four steps were taken quickly before she knelt before the door. Her mouth opened wide to allow for quick, quiet breaths as she allowed herself to calm down. All the while, her eyes scanned everywhere searching for the trouble she knew was there.

The roar gave her little warning before the door behind her was torn from the frame, crashing down on her. Fragments of the door pierced the rapidly crumpling light armour on her back. Larger chunks of wood plunged deeply into the exposed muscle between the ribs and hips. The force of the blow also threw her forward, face first into the rubble strewn street. The blunderbus broke apart under her body under the weight of her attacker, the door and herself. Wind was expelled from her lungs as she was cruelly bent over the steps she was draped over. Another roar filled the air before something landed heavily near her head. Her vision was filled with stars before going black.

The last thing she was aware of was the weight lifting form her back, and the sound of the roars growing softer...
 
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