Prisoner of Her Twisted Obsession


Her Twisted Obsession – Somewhere Near You

This is the one he had been waiting for. The life-changer; the one he had dreamed about for a long time.

Who loves more fervently than the middle-aged and lonely? Who will do anything to make their dreams come true? Or to keep their most private secrets?

He suppresses a smile as he watches her dressing. It is a sight he enjoys. One that makes him feels good; in control. His eyes wander across her body. For forty-four, she’s still in good shape. She’s obviously tried to look after herself. Okay, she’s carrying an extra pound here and there, but no more than that. She is still attractive, still worth a fuck; but she doesn’t know it or can’t believe it. He loves insecurity in a woman. Gnaws at them nicely.

But to him right now, she is very much more than just a fuck. When he looks at her, he sees beyond her full creamy big nippled tits and well-rounded arse to a new life. A life without worry or concerns; a life where he can indulge himself in his very darkest desires without fear or consequence.

The good life at last for him and Kinky.

He lies there still naked, basking in the warm glow that only gratitude can bestow. She is older than his mother, exactly twice his own age. She can’t believe her luck. He likes the power that gives him. The power to make sure she knows her place, knows she has to please, deny him nothing.

He knows he has her. She is dependent on him already; addicted. He knows he can do anything he wants. Anything. And he will. It won’t be long now. She won’t say no, she is too frightened of losing him; too insecure to resist.

Soon she will wish she had never met him. He can’t wait for that moment; the moment when realisation dawns. The sweetest part will be that it will be too late by then: past the time when she might do anything about it. All she can do then is accept. And then they will pick her bare; leaving nothing but the bones.

She is everything he worthy of his contempt; lonely, insecure, needy, trusting, and monied. What more could any man want?

She is hurrying now. She has to go to work. He likes the way her eyes keep flicking over his body; he likes the way she is continually drinking him in, not believing her good fortune. How lucky she feels. She smiles that smile at him, the one that says ‘I’m yours, and you’re mine; aren’t we blessed to have found each other?’ What shit. What total fucking bollocks.

But now she has to go to work.

But he does not. He can lie in; lie here in her big expensive king-sized bed. Who needs work? Work is for the drones.

He intends to gut her like a fish. Leave her with nothing. But it’s not just about the money for him. He wants to take it all, her dignity, her pride, what little self-esteem she has. The thought of emotionally disembowelling her is starting to make his cock hard again.

She needs him, and no desperate need should go unexploited.

‘Do you love me?’ he asks.



‘Yes, I will meet you’, she typed. It was a lie. She knew she wouldn’t turn up. She never did.

‘Great, just for a coffee? At least to start with?’

‘…would love to. Would like to see you in the flesh.’

‘…so where and when?’

‘You say.’

This was the endgame, all her online chat contacts eventually pushed for the meeting, and there it ended. Meeting wasn’t in the plan. Couldn’t be.

She went through the motions of setting a meeting in a nearby coffee shop at noon the next day. She closes Yahoo chat and consigns that one to history. Just like all the others. Good while it lasted. But now MintBabe36 is dead, but she was useful while she lasted.

How wrong she was.


When she was younger, Elizabeth Thatcher often thought about her future life. How she would have a husband, children and a house in the country. In her more idle moments she would elaborate her dream, fleshing it out with pleasing detail. Her husband would be some respectable and ‘safe’ professional, perhaps an accountant or better still a surgeon. Her children would be Adam for the boy, and Audrey for the girl. Only a year apart they would grow up close and always watch out for each other. The house would be a period property with a large garden, plenty of natural light and neighbours who were also good friends.

But now, at forty-four, Elizabeth doesn’t have a husband, she doesn’t have any children, and she doesn’t even have that house in the country. All the musings of her youth have passed her by. She doesn’t even have neighbours she can count as friends.

What she has is a shop.

It is a nice shop, in the high street with a loyal customer base. She sells various pills and potions, health foods and drinks designed to keep you clean and healthy inside, and young-looking and fresh on the outside. She herself is a mine of information. People swear by her advice and recommendations. To her customers she is the nice lady in the herbalists; always ready with a smile and wise words about her vast and obscure range of brews and blends.

She is a creature of habit, and feels safe in her set routines. While she has a certain disappointment that her life has gone this way rather than the way of her hopes, she is not at all unhappy. She has found a working life in her shop; she regards her customers as a kind of extended family, and feels secure in their appreciation.

But her greatest passion, perhaps her only real passion, is reserved for her secret life. A secret indulgence she has which she cherishes and enjoys above all other things. On this she lavishes her best and more productive hours.

Her secret is that she is not one person but many. She has many secret selves and is appreciated far beyond the confines of her small town. Her spare room with its computer and her carefully selected wardrobe is her place of transformation, her theatre where she creates lives many times more vivid to her than her own…

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Unmarried, 44 year old Elizabeth Thatcher spends her evenings living out her sexual fantasies in a variety of anonymous web-cam encounters. But when she finally meets one of her chat-room viewers, it is apparent she has a need to replace the virtual with the real, and she is sucked into a very different world; a harsh world, a dangerous world. A world where no desperate need goes unexploited.

Nick and his street-urchin girlfriend Kinky are ambitious and ruthless predators. Their aim is to exploit Elizabeth’s desperate needs for their own ends. Their intention is to ‘Strip the Bitch’ – strip her financially, sexually, of all her pride and self-esteem.

Is this Elizabeth’s most feared nightmare? Or the most secret of her secret fantasies?

Twisted obsession


Another story of mine is……More recently, I have a story of a woman alone on the late night train. Her journey isn’t just about distance, its about travelling to the dark side of her own sexual nature. An example of my own humiliation fantasies becoming a story.

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