Tina's Chalet Getaway

[MTPersson]

A wonderer in the night could see it from miles away. A bright splash of light against the encroaching darkness. A warm glow to beat away the freezing cold of the night and the snow. A safe haven to spend the night.

Trudging through the newly fallen powder, they pass a simple wooden sign, a name etched in quiet lettering.

Ciel Foyer

Loud knocks on a heavy, oak door mark their arrival and a wave of light and joviality come rushing out to usher them into their warm embrace. The hostess beckons them to enter.

No expense has been spared; that much can be seen. Large polished slabs of stone lie underfoot and the walls look as if they have been carved from the mountainside itself. A large alcove is full of wine bottles; red, white and champagne. Row upon row of neatly presented alcohol; more a piece of art than practical storage soultion. She stops, slides back one of the glass panels, and takes one, peering invitingly over her shoulder. Perhaps a little tipple, to chase away the cold.

Their big, snow covered boots follow the delicate clicking noise of her heels down the narrow corridor. A door which has been left ajar offers a glimpse of the wonders beyond. A plush bed with silk covers, fluffy pillows and a flash of naked female skin before it is gone. The hostess’ bedroom. An area of the chalet for which admission is, they imagine, by invitation only.

The narrow corridor opens into a wide, spacious living area with cream coloured leather couches positioned to look out over the amazing vista. Snow covered mountains which look much more inviting inside the warm chalet. They have already forgotten the chill wind that had been whipping at their face mere moments ago.

But they don’t stop there, they carry on forward as she slides open one of the floor to ceiling windows and leads them out onto the terrace where a roaring fire invites them to sit on one of the chairs and wrap a warm fur around their body. The hostess is already there, popping the cork on the champagne and pouring it into two simple flutes. Turning to look at them, she says,

“Welcome to my home, make yourself comfortable.”​

 

[MTPersson]

SRP Threads

Ongoing

"The Interpretation of Dreams" with Bevatoria.

On Hold

"Finding Inspiration" with Bevatoria - My first real SRP, not sure whether it will continue but it's my fault for going on holiday and losing the sense of my character.

Closed

"The Witching Hour" with SweetAsSuga - Interrupted by wedding, never got going

 

[MTPersson]

SRP Profile

I have an official, albeit abridged version in the official thread but I thought that this would be a good place to expand on a few points.


Gender: I am a female person therefore I will write characters who are also female persons.

Age: Being 23, I naturally write my characters as if they were my age. I can easily manage characters between 18 and 30 but any older than that and I might start having problems. I just haven't had the life experiences that would help be create an authentic voice for the character.

Orientation: In real life, I would say I'm straight so would again naturally deviate towards characters of this orientation. However, I wouldn't find it a problem to write as a character who is a lesbian or bisexual. Just because I'm straight, doesn't mean I can't have girl crushes too!

Power Exchange: I did a test on here once which told me that my 'type' was a switch and I think that it was pretty spot on. I would say I swing more towards submissiveness, especially with men but that doesn't mean I'm going to write as if I'm a pushover. I'm going to make you work for your dominance. Equal partnerships are always nice to write, just as long as the romance and the tension are there.

Race: I'm white but I would like to try a few different races some when. I'm open to anything, really.

Body Type: As with most of the other criteria so far, when my partner has no particular preferences, I write my characters so they have a similar body type to myself. Tall and slender with blonde hair. I should really change it up sometimes and maybe have red hair or be a bit curvier but my method of writing and of visualising the scenes always ends up with me being placed in them. That said, if it was integral to the plot, I would have no problems with writing a character who doesn't fit into that mold.

Alternate species/fantasy races/furries/mutations: Honestly, I don't know why this category is here. Each to their own I suppose. Needless to say, I don't write anything other than human characters, so if that is what you are looking for, sorry.

Settings: Modern day examples are probably the easiest, hassle free option for settings. I prefer to create a city or area in which the story takes place - maybe borrowing landmarks or ambiance from real life - so I stop myself getting bogged down in details. It also means you're not constrained by reality and geography. You can just make up the perfect building or park to drop your characters into. Historical fiction would pose a bit of a problem for me as I would try and make it as accurate as possible. I'm a bit fastidious about rubbish like that and the extra work may have a negative effect on the timing and flow of posts. That said, practice makes perfect.

Likes/kinks: YAY! The exciting bit at last. In no particular order, my favourite things are:

• Rough Sex - Maybe linked to my submissive side but I love sex when it is wild and free. When I wake up in the morning, I want to know I've had sex so I want to ache, have marks down my arms and legs, and a throat so sore I sound like I smoke fifty cigarettes an hour.
  
• Gentle, Loving Sex - The switch in me coming out now. Just because I love it rough doesn't mean I don't like it soft. Sometimes you just want someone to hold and cuddle up to on a cold, winter's night. A different kind of passion to the one above, but still one which is incredibly arousing to me. A scenario where two people are so deeply in love with one another and only care about making the other happy is so hot to me.
  
• An exploration of power and its dynamic between two or more people - Whether it's me writing a submissive character (way more likely) or a dominant one, I'm interested in exploring these kind of relationships on a deeper, more emotional level. I'm not interested in writing a story where a guy (or girl) has a sub girl he fucks when he likes. I want to know why he likes having the power, why she likes being out of control and being used. By doing that, you get something that's not just another piece of crap for someone to wank over. You get a proper story.

Other general likes or things I want to explore:
Bondage, oral sex, spanking, teasing, foreplay, toys, biting, coercion, restraint, multiple partners, anal, gags, DP, masturbation (both solo and mutual), humiliation, romance, abduction, being hunted, intimacy, facials, orgasm denial, being the bad girl, blackmail, being the good girl, sex in rooms of the house other than the bedroom.

Hard limits: If you excrete it from your body and into a toilet then I don't want it happening to me. That means no scat, piss, vomit, blood etc. The usual warnings about animals and minors. There are also some names I don't like being called, be sure to check with me beforehand just to make sure it's OK.

Availability: I am on most days though I don't always feel like writing. I want to create stories and worlds which are believable and grip those who read them so I will take my time to craft the responses to your posts. If, for some reason, I need to take an extended leave of absence, I will always inform partners beforehand.


And that is me. I'm sure by now your mouse cursor is hovering over the 'Message MTPersson' button but wait one minute, please.

Take a breath. Nice and deep.

I want you to seriously consider the following things: Your past output; your writing style; your motivation for wanting to write; your commitment to seeing a project through.

If your posts are, on average, less than 300 words; you have an awkward and sometimes hard to follow writing style; you want a fast wank; or your want to write is a spur of the moment thing then please refrain from hitting that button.

If though you are none of the above things then I would be more than delighted to hear from you. Don't be afraid to send me a message stating your intent and maybe we can work something out from there.

T x

 

[thestruggle]

trudges up to the entrance of the chalet, clasping a gift for the occupant. Places it gingerly by the door, adjusts her wooly scarf, and skis off into the night!

 

[MTPersson]

Standing on the balcony, she sees the figure ski off down the mountainside; back towards the twinkling lights of the town in the valley. She walks through the chalet, bare feet barely making a sound on the cold stones of the floor before opening the front door and picking up the gift that had been left for her.

Gerberas. Her favourite. She leans forward and inhales the soft and delicate scent the flowers give off; she allows it to fill her nostrils and excite her senses before letting out the deep breath.

Smiling, she closes the door, shutting out the flurry of snow that has started to fall and returns to the living room. Delicately placing the vase on the counter of the bar, she smiles to herself. She knows who the gift is from, knows where they like to hid away from the world.

Maybe she should return her thanks in kind. With a present of her own. A smirk crosses her lips as she returns to her spot on the balcony and takes another sip of champagne from her flute. Maybe tomorrow.

 

[MTPersson]

The New Headmistress

She sat down in her tall office chair and placed the steaming mug of coffee down on the wooden surface of her writing desk. Checking the ink in her fountain pen, she pulls forward and empty sheet of white paper and smiles in anticipation. It was the first time in a while that she had time to extract the ideas that were taking up precious room in her imagination.

It was time to get them out and onto paper where she could forget about them and create new worlds and scenarios in their place.

The pen started gliding freely across the page...


*


She read the letter for what must have been the hundredth time that week. There was still something unworldly about it; it was something she couldn't quite believe but there it was in elegant black and white script.

Miss Shelton,

We, the board, are delighted to inform you that subsequent to your recent interview, we have chosen you to fill the role of headmistress at St. Thomas' School.

It has been arranged that you are introduced to the full board on the morning of the 11th of the present month after which your duties will commence immediately.

Once again let us offer our whole hearted congratulations.

Simon Grayson.
Chairman.

Katherine hadn't expected to get the job. Her mind went back to that interview; her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth causing her mouth to make odd clicking sounds every time she spoke; the way she had blundered her way through their simple questions. Frankly, she was expecting them to just forget about her and not even send her a letter stating she had failed to secure the job. After all, she didn't have any experience of a role with so much responsibility attached to it; she had only applied on the incessant prodding she had been given by her flatmate.

For four years, the twenty-nine year old had been working as an English teacher in a number of poor, inner-city schools where the most students could expect to leave with, was either an STD or a child. It had been soul destroying work, watching all of those kids coast through the system with very little hope of breaking out of the downward spiral they had been unfortunate enough to be born into. On more than one occasion, she had cried herself to sleep at night.

St. Thomas' was the exact opposite. Where the inner-city schools had been run down and crumbling, St. Thomas' occupied a large Edwardian mansion in the heart of the countryside. Far from the stark conditions Katherine had experienced before. The students, too, were different. The best and brightest of the countries wealthiest families came here and all were destined to fill the most important jobs in the future. In the past CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, senators and even a vice-president had attended the school.

The week had gone quickly for Katherine and no matter how much she read the letter, it didn't change and when the morning of the 11th came along, it still said she was the new headmistress. She had woken early, way to early, and dressed in the outfit she had laid out the night before. A simple pair of black pants and a red, wrap around blouse. Driving down the long gravelled road that led off the state road in her beat up four by four, the school building loomed up from among the surrounding countryside. Katherine was so nervous and early that she spent the next hour and a half sat in her car, shaking and continuously checking the clock on her dashboard.

When the time finally came, Katherine changed into her heels and started across the car park to the entrance. After introducing herself to the receptionist, she was led towards the board room. Neither of them said a word, the only sound being the clicking of her heels on the polished wood floor. Katherine could have sworn the receptionist could hear her heart trying to beat its way through her chest. The pair of them arrived at a tall set of black, oak doors. The receptionist turned and smiled at her,

"Don't worry, you'll do fine. They're not half as scary as they look." And with that she walked off in the direction they had come from. Katherine took a deep breath and knocked politely before pushing open the door and walking into the brightly lit room.

Sunlight poured into the room from the many windows that lined the eastern wall. A huge oval table dominated the room and Katherine's eyes were drawn to the twenty men and women who were sat around it. Each was dressed immaculately in monochrome suits and dresses; a few with smiles on their faces, most with frowns and looks of boredom.

"Ah, Miss Shelton, a pleasure to meet you again."

A man in his early forties, dressed in an immaculate black suit was walking towards her with his hand outstretched. Katherine recognised him as one of the men who had been in her interview. He had't spoken to her then, just sat there and took notes. Offering her own hand, he took it and shook it warmly before turning to the rest of the assembled people and saying,

"Ladies and gentleman, may I introduce to you our new headmistress, Miss Katherine Shelton."

The board members just looked at the pair of them. Those who had been smiling still smiled and hose that had been frowning were still frowning. The gentleman shaking he hand was grinning widely though and didn't seem to notice that there was no rapturous round of applause for her. Instead, he directed her towards a chair and returned to his own at the head of the table.

"Now, Miss Shelton, there are a few things we need to tell you about how St. Thomas' is run. Just everyday things to help you get on with doing your job to the best of your abilities.

"The men and women you see around you are the benefactors of this school. They pay huge sums of money each year to help with wages, maintenance, supplies, you get the picture."

His arms were spread wide gesturing towards the suited people around them.

"Their generous donations are the reason why pupils here aren't required to pay astronomical tuition fees; a subsidy of sort. However, they don't do this out of the goodness of their hearts, Miss Shelton."

His tone had darkened and he was no longer smiling. Katherine felt a shiver run down her spin and could have sworn the room had suddenly got a lot darker despite the sun still shining through the windows behind her.

"Each year they require one student to be chosen and trained to do as they please. It is the job of the head of the school to pick said student and train them. Your job Katherine."

The use of her first name spooked her. The sudden change in tone and intimacy catching her off guard. Training? What the hell was going on here? They couldn't be talking about slavery, not here in the twenty first century. Then what did Katherine know about how the wealthy lived and played? She was new to this world and was suddenly feeling very out of her depth.

"I'm sorry?" Was all she could manage to splutter, her mind still trying to process the revelation.

"The board requires one student, male or female, to be trained in order to serve their every whim. It is your job to choose that student and train them."

"Every whim? Do you mean sex?"

"In some cases, yes." He said it in such a casual, off the cuff way that Katherine couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh.

"I'm sorry but I refuse. This isn't the job I applied for. You can't stop me just walking out right here, right now." She got up and headed for the door, her head spinning. She just needed to make it back to her car and then she can be out of here. Her hand was on the handle when he spoke to her again.

"If you leave, you will owe us five years of your prospective wages, which I seem to remember being substantial. Need I remind you of contractual obligations?"

It was true, she remembered the clause. She was signed on a five year rolling contract and if at any point she decided to quit, she would owe the school wages for the remaining years on her contract. She had just agreed to it; she wasn't planning on going anywhere, the job seemed perfect for her. That was until a few minutes ago. She paused by the door, her hand on the handle still. There was no way she could afford to pay them that amount of money, she was broke. Her head sank and she released her grip on the door.

*

There was a knock on her door. Without looking up from her writing, Katherine called out.

"Come in."

The door opened and a young girl with blonde hair tied back with a pale bow stepped into the office.

"Ah, Miss Stevens. I guess your wondering why I've called you here."


*


She sat back and stretched her arms out in front of her. It was done. Rough around the edges maybe and a little rushed. It needed some work, some polishing but the idea was down in writing and she could stop thinking about it.

Except now she had written it down, it was all she could think about.

Damn

 

[MTPersson]

Have to channel the mindset that goes with those eyes

 

[MTPersson]

Cspt1

P R O L O G U E​

Fairy Tales​

Once upon a time...

That’s how all the best fairy tales begin. In my earliest memories, my grandfather, bald as a stone, sits me on his knees and tells me stories.

Once upon a time...

Those four simple words are enough to take me back to those moments. The smell of stale cigarette smoke on his waistcoat filling my nose, the feel of my velvet dress on my bare legs and my feet dangling in the air, too short to reach the ground from my elevated perch. Four words, but maybe not too simple after all.

Whilst the stories my grandfather told me were of adventure and heroic deeds, the ones my grandmother told were always about love. Herorines sad and alone living in a world of solitude waiting for the day when her life stops being what other people want it to be and begins soaring amongst the clouds of her.

When I was young, I would dream of that day. The day when someone would find me and whisk me away in a blur of passion and excitement to who knows where and we would live a life where no on could tell us what to do or how to act. We would be our own people and that would be enough for us. That would make us happy.

Like most things, time and age slowly corroded away my dreams and I began to scoff at my grandmother when she said my life would turn out like her stories. Fairy tales are for children, I would say to her; Jobs, hard work and mortgages are for grown ups and she would just sit there and smile in that knowing way she had.

How surprised was I when the path of my life crossed with that of another who made my heart explode with exhilration and my soul soar. Someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. But the tangled webs that the threads of our lives create never weave the world in the way you expect them to and I soon realised that my grandparents was wrong.

Fairy tales don't exist.

My name is Sophie Boyd and once upon a time, I fell in love with a sociopath.

 

[MTPersson]

C H A P T E R​

1​

Chloe



COMING SOON​

+

 

[LucianDevine]

Trudges slowly through the fresh powder that has gradually accumulated, and is slowly filling his footprints, likely to leave no evidence of his passing before long. He's bundled up against the cold with a full winter suit covered further still with a parka. His face is shielded by a scarf wrapped around his neck, and a partial face mask shielding everything from his nose down against the wind that blows so steadily.

The walk has been a long one, the fresh powder making the trip all the longer, but with his destination finally coming into view as he comes around the last corner, it lifts his spirit and fills him with enough energy to quicken his pace for the last leg of his trip.

Even as he gets closer to the warmly lit building, he wonders if the hostess is home. There was nothing to do about it though, but hope for the best as he steps up to the heavy oak door and pounds his fist against it three times.

 

[MTPersson]

 

[MTPersson]

 

[MTPersson]

 

[MTPersson]

 

[MTPersson]

 

[MTPersson]

 

[MTPersson]

Two friends/strangers (most likely out of town students) are dared to enter a house which they are unaware is notoriously 'haunted'.

The stories vary; some say it used to be an asylum for the insane and that it's haunted by the ghosts of maniacs and killers who stayed there. Others believe wealthy family once lived there and that one morning they simply vanished leaving behind all of their earthly possessions untouched and unmoved; victims of a sinister plot, their spirits wander the house thinking they're still very much alive.

The stories vary but one detail remains constant through all of them; no one has had the courage to enter the house for decades and the last people to do so have never been seen since they past the threshold of its doors.

Our skeptical pair enter the house but what happens inside? Do spirits manipulate them for their own amusement? Does one of them become possessed? Or are there in fact no ghosts and one has an ulterior motive for luring the other into the abandoned building?



Or, of course, something else entirely happens.

 

[MTPersson]