Sweetp4u
Mischief Maker
- Joined
- Aug 22, 2001
- Posts
- 14,767
ooc: This is closed for myself and Black Bart, please do not reply in this thread.
Kierstin Leonora Westfall
Kierstin
26 years old. Rich Dark Brown thick hair and bright green eyes
5’7” curvy tight form, well-endowed in all the right places. A Full B cup, possibly fit a C well enough but prefers her breasts high, tight and in full sight. Called a “go getter” for a reason. Being one of a set of twins and only surviving child of Barbara and Richard (Ricky) Westfall, she was given everything she ever wanted from birth on up to present. Her daddy calls her “Princess” for a reason, it’s a title she’s earned and is proud of. Ballet training, Piano, Etiquette, formal ballroom dancing training and the list goes on and on. She was Miss Rhode Island two years running before she stopped competing and went to college. Its said that there isn’t anything she could not achieve if she wanted it badly enough…
Four years of college, graduated ‘magna cum laude’ and hired on at Duncan, Martin and Williams of New York City three years ago, to be a paralegal under Mr. Trace Williams, and ended up being more of a P.A. than a Paralegal. She’s become “invaluable” to the company; until Mr. Williams was asked to “quietly” step down.
Date: Today
A low groan came from the slouched heap of woman sitting on the cabin floor, about to fall over. She’d be waking soon, to the bitter cold of February and wearing only her underwear. A bruise marred her temple and dried blood was caked at the corner of her lips. She flinched a little, her head lolling back to bounce and roll against the bed behind her. Her brows furrowed but her eyes remained closed as she made a small sound of protest. Her body worn out from the tussle the night before was also sedated by some foul chemical she had yet to wake and appreciate or bemoan. Her dainty ankles were wrapped in manacles, hooked to chain that wound like a dead snake through large rings bolted into the wood of the floor: all shiny and new, just for her. Her wrists bore a similar set up but smaller manacles and the chain in which was threaded through matching metal rings, were dangling from the ceiling and waiting to be pulled tight.
“please..” Uttered softly, a small whimpered cry as she relived the nightmare in her dreams, of the night before. She said more to her attacker in said dream, but lacked the power to speak it aloud to the real world… Not that it mattered, for the man seated at the table, watching her every move, didn’t seem to bare any remorse, concern or worry for the young lady he held… quite the opposite.
Such a complicated love, theirs. It started out so sappy and sweet, three years ago this month.. and just before valentine’s day then too. Full of sass and lust, who knew things could go south so damned fast? He had been married at the time, but she hadn’t let that stop her from accepting his overtures. The flowers, candy and dinners were typical beginnings. He graduated quickly into spoiling her, showering her with diamonds and designer gowns. He showed her so many things her sheltered life hadn’t, the pleasures to be had at his hand and by his command became…. Addictive.
They fell in love, or so she thought. The tune changed when she helped him divorce his wife…. If one could call what she’d done as help? She tried to win him over, despite the messy divorce. He got aggressive and cruel with his words, ignoring her completely. She nearly went insane until he finally gave in and tried again, perhaps because the partners found out she was blackmailing him? She never had a chance to ask, as that was the final straw, so to speak. He had nothing left, she’d managed to take it all from him. No, not monetary things, that’s so trivial… No, she took his dignity, his respect, and even his love and turned it into…
People do a lot of crazy things in the name of religion, country and love. He just hadn’t seen it that way..
So there she is, waking up in a remote cabin in the middle of nowhere, without a stitch of clothing and possibly the last few hours of life she may have at the mercy of the man she once loved and now loathed with the depths of her soul.
Foggy green eyes were partially opened as her reclined limp body sat staring at Trace, her face pale as she tried to piece together just what happened last night? How did she get here? The ringing in her ears was loud, and the hammering in her heart jerked with a painful lurch at the sight of the man, but overall the urge to puke came first and foremost as waves of nausea washed over her. She trembled and tried to lift a hand, the weight of the chain unexpected and so did not move to do her bidding. She blinked slowly, twice, one eye and then the other. Her eyes peeling open slowly as she parted her lips a little, inhaling a shaky breath, lips moved in question but no sound ushered out. The room swam and he was half clear and half fuzzy. Letting her eyes close again, she sat as still as death for the longest time.
It came back to her then, and with it anger as memories slowly played like a reel through her head. She’d come home and he pounced on her before she got through the living room. She had bit him, kicked him and even landed a few punches herself before he ended up hitting her. Forcing her down without care of her person or smaller size, he’d landed on her and shoved that foul smelling cloth into her face. Perhaps he had a few bruises himself, she hoped like hell his nuts were permanently damaged from her knee, she was sure that he’d split her lip and possibly cracked a rib landing on her.
“Bastard!” She spat out, her chest rising and falling in great heaving breaths as she fought back bile by swallowing the saliva flooding her mouth.
Kierstin Leonora Westfall
Kierstin
26 years old. Rich Dark Brown thick hair and bright green eyes
5’7” curvy tight form, well-endowed in all the right places. A Full B cup, possibly fit a C well enough but prefers her breasts high, tight and in full sight. Called a “go getter” for a reason. Being one of a set of twins and only surviving child of Barbara and Richard (Ricky) Westfall, she was given everything she ever wanted from birth on up to present. Her daddy calls her “Princess” for a reason, it’s a title she’s earned and is proud of. Ballet training, Piano, Etiquette, formal ballroom dancing training and the list goes on and on. She was Miss Rhode Island two years running before she stopped competing and went to college. Its said that there isn’t anything she could not achieve if she wanted it badly enough…
Four years of college, graduated ‘magna cum laude’ and hired on at Duncan, Martin and Williams of New York City three years ago, to be a paralegal under Mr. Trace Williams, and ended up being more of a P.A. than a Paralegal. She’s become “invaluable” to the company; until Mr. Williams was asked to “quietly” step down.
Date: Today
A low groan came from the slouched heap of woman sitting on the cabin floor, about to fall over. She’d be waking soon, to the bitter cold of February and wearing only her underwear. A bruise marred her temple and dried blood was caked at the corner of her lips. She flinched a little, her head lolling back to bounce and roll against the bed behind her. Her brows furrowed but her eyes remained closed as she made a small sound of protest. Her body worn out from the tussle the night before was also sedated by some foul chemical she had yet to wake and appreciate or bemoan. Her dainty ankles were wrapped in manacles, hooked to chain that wound like a dead snake through large rings bolted into the wood of the floor: all shiny and new, just for her. Her wrists bore a similar set up but smaller manacles and the chain in which was threaded through matching metal rings, were dangling from the ceiling and waiting to be pulled tight.
“please..” Uttered softly, a small whimpered cry as she relived the nightmare in her dreams, of the night before. She said more to her attacker in said dream, but lacked the power to speak it aloud to the real world… Not that it mattered, for the man seated at the table, watching her every move, didn’t seem to bare any remorse, concern or worry for the young lady he held… quite the opposite.
Such a complicated love, theirs. It started out so sappy and sweet, three years ago this month.. and just before valentine’s day then too. Full of sass and lust, who knew things could go south so damned fast? He had been married at the time, but she hadn’t let that stop her from accepting his overtures. The flowers, candy and dinners were typical beginnings. He graduated quickly into spoiling her, showering her with diamonds and designer gowns. He showed her so many things her sheltered life hadn’t, the pleasures to be had at his hand and by his command became…. Addictive.
They fell in love, or so she thought. The tune changed when she helped him divorce his wife…. If one could call what she’d done as help? She tried to win him over, despite the messy divorce. He got aggressive and cruel with his words, ignoring her completely. She nearly went insane until he finally gave in and tried again, perhaps because the partners found out she was blackmailing him? She never had a chance to ask, as that was the final straw, so to speak. He had nothing left, she’d managed to take it all from him. No, not monetary things, that’s so trivial… No, she took his dignity, his respect, and even his love and turned it into…
People do a lot of crazy things in the name of religion, country and love. He just hadn’t seen it that way..
So there she is, waking up in a remote cabin in the middle of nowhere, without a stitch of clothing and possibly the last few hours of life she may have at the mercy of the man she once loved and now loathed with the depths of her soul.
Foggy green eyes were partially opened as her reclined limp body sat staring at Trace, her face pale as she tried to piece together just what happened last night? How did she get here? The ringing in her ears was loud, and the hammering in her heart jerked with a painful lurch at the sight of the man, but overall the urge to puke came first and foremost as waves of nausea washed over her. She trembled and tried to lift a hand, the weight of the chain unexpected and so did not move to do her bidding. She blinked slowly, twice, one eye and then the other. Her eyes peeling open slowly as she parted her lips a little, inhaling a shaky breath, lips moved in question but no sound ushered out. The room swam and he was half clear and half fuzzy. Letting her eyes close again, she sat as still as death for the longest time.
It came back to her then, and with it anger as memories slowly played like a reel through her head. She’d come home and he pounced on her before she got through the living room. She had bit him, kicked him and even landed a few punches herself before he ended up hitting her. Forcing her down without care of her person or smaller size, he’d landed on her and shoved that foul smelling cloth into her face. Perhaps he had a few bruises himself, she hoped like hell his nuts were permanently damaged from her knee, she was sure that he’d split her lip and possibly cracked a rib landing on her.
“Bastard!” She spat out, her chest rising and falling in great heaving breaths as she fought back bile by swallowing the saliva flooding her mouth.
