Hello one and all, I am aspiring writer, among other things. I would like to get some feedback and if you would also rate my stories after you read them id be great full (if its a 5, haha just kidding) but on a serious note im looking for any helpful hints you may have for me. also please send me a friends request after you read. I will accept pretty much everyone.
Upon a cursory review, along with what Sprite said, I like to see writers vary their sentence structures and length. It shakes up the read a bit, even just in a small way.
Sure, be happy to. Since you write in the bdsm category, here's a bdsm story, or at least the beginning of one - what's important are capturing the essence of the character - once you have someone hooked on the characters themselves, the story will feel real to them. If you can carry that from start to finish, you will have your reader hanging on every word...
---
“Do you trust me?” she asked, and I’d answered without thinking, my words followed with a soft kiss, my body tingling all over as she pulled me closer, her tongue slipping easily between my lips.
“Of course I do. Why would you even ask?” I answered breathlessly, feeling the welcome warmth of desire kissing the insides of my thighs. She gave my ass a quick squeeze and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.
“You make me want to do bad things to you, baby.”
“I like it when you do bad things to me, Mrs. Vandermeer.”
She smiled wickedly, her gaze holding mine as I trembled against her, rubbing my wet pussy against her thigh and letting out a fevered moan of desire. She kissed me playfully on the nose, and shook her head before pushing herself away from me. Helplessly I watched her retrieve her black lace bra from the dresser and slip her arms into the straps.
She hadn’t really given me an answer, but I hadn’t really expected one. Abby was good at not giving answers. You might even say she was a professional. It came with the territory. She was a Professor at a prestigious university, teaching courses in political science. Up until now, she’d done all the right things. Gone to the best schools, graduated at the top of her class, met all the right people and kept her reputation above reproach. She’d married into money and given birth to two perfect, blonde, blue eyed, kids, just like her... And then she’d met me.
I was her Achilles’ heel she’d tell me from time to time. Usually it was while putting her clothes back on, like right now. I lay on the sheets, just watching her dress, my naked body covered with our perspiration and cum, a satisfied smile glowing on my face as she’d pause, a rare haunted look in her clear blue eyes.
“Baby,” (She always called me baby, never used my real name, Shannon. Okay, that’s not totally true. There were other names she called me in the throes of passion. Her dirty little whore, her slut, her fuck doll, but afterwards, it was always ‘baby’.) “Why do I keep coming back to you? Anyone finds out, my career is toast.”
“Because your husband doesn’t let you do this, Abby.”
Wincing softly, I rolled away from her so that she could get a good look at my ass. It was bright red from the paddling she’d given me. I could still feel the heat in my tender flesh spreading down my thighs and translating in my pussy as pleasure as I did my best to point at my cherry red cheeks. With my forearms bound tightly together behind my back, it took some effort.
You can’t truly call yourself peaceful unless you are capable of violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful. You’re harmless.