The Dark Side Of Cybering
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
10,924
Reviews:
24
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
10,924
Reviews:
24
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
oooooooooo
Up for 24 hours straight, her arms weak from fatigue at typing those longs hours, Joan tried desperately to rewrite her story.
It would not come. The words, the plot, the characters. They seemed now to be so vague, so false.
At 2 am, she went into the kitchen to get a drink. As she poured the whisky and the sweet and sour, she noticed a piece of glass on the floor she had neglected when cleaning earlier. She reached down to pick it up. In her hand it was innocent enough. The tiny sliver of glass just reflected a bit of light. She knew, however, that with enough applied pressure, this little piece of glass could be deadly.
Just like the internet.
In the matter of a short time, the internet had taken her life. Not her physical life, but the life she had built up until then. She neglected her home, her novel, her life’s work. Forgot to back up her novel, neglected to lock her doors. What the hell was wrong with her?
Oh, Joan knew. She read the paper. It was not as though she had never heard about the people who had gotten addicted to the internet. In her mind, however, she had always seen them living in trailer parks, teeth missing, without even a high school diploma. Not anyone with a master’s degree. Not HER!
She laughed at herself, then began to cry. The sleeplessness and stress broke her down and she slid to the floor and wept like a child, the little piece of glass piercing her skin as she tightened her fist.
On the ground she bawled. Screaming out in rage and sorrow. For a long time she cried until exhaustion overtook her and she half crawled, half walked to her room and collapsed into her bed.
In a restless sleep she dreamed. The images roaming into her mind, showing pictures of herself lewdly being used by a faceless man. Strapped to a table, legs wide apart, having things shoved into her vagina, being slapped hard all over her bare skin. Having various sex toys being used on her, hair being almost yanked from her head. Being forced to do what she had for so long not allowed herself to even think about.
The faceless man in her dreams running the riding crop lightly over her breasts, then raising it and slapping it down hard on the nipple. Feeling herself trying to scream but unable to because of the gag in her mouth. The hot branding iron being brought to her skin and touching the tender inner thigh, searing her flesh.
Joan woke to the doorbell ringing. Slowly she crawled out of her bed and wrapped her robe around her shoulders. The light streaming through the living room windows made her squint as she treaded across the carpet to the door. She looked out the peep hole and saw no one. She made sure the chain was in place and cracked the door open. There was no one there, but before she closed the door, she happened to glance down and saw what made her nearly faint.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Her hand was shaking so badly that the paper in her hand could barely be read. The box that had been torn open lay there, full of the sex toys she had ordered. The paper, a regular, common, every day piece of notepad was the most sinister thing Joan had ever been close to.
It read, “Have fun with these, Joan. I WILL be watching.”
It would not come. The words, the plot, the characters. They seemed now to be so vague, so false.
At 2 am, she went into the kitchen to get a drink. As she poured the whisky and the sweet and sour, she noticed a piece of glass on the floor she had neglected when cleaning earlier. She reached down to pick it up. In her hand it was innocent enough. The tiny sliver of glass just reflected a bit of light. She knew, however, that with enough applied pressure, this little piece of glass could be deadly.
Just like the internet.
In the matter of a short time, the internet had taken her life. Not her physical life, but the life she had built up until then. She neglected her home, her novel, her life’s work. Forgot to back up her novel, neglected to lock her doors. What the hell was wrong with her?
Oh, Joan knew. She read the paper. It was not as though she had never heard about the people who had gotten addicted to the internet. In her mind, however, she had always seen them living in trailer parks, teeth missing, without even a high school diploma. Not anyone with a master’s degree. Not HER!
She laughed at herself, then began to cry. The sleeplessness and stress broke her down and she slid to the floor and wept like a child, the little piece of glass piercing her skin as she tightened her fist.
On the ground she bawled. Screaming out in rage and sorrow. For a long time she cried until exhaustion overtook her and she half crawled, half walked to her room and collapsed into her bed.
In a restless sleep she dreamed. The images roaming into her mind, showing pictures of herself lewdly being used by a faceless man. Strapped to a table, legs wide apart, having things shoved into her vagina, being slapped hard all over her bare skin. Having various sex toys being used on her, hair being almost yanked from her head. Being forced to do what she had for so long not allowed herself to even think about.
The faceless man in her dreams running the riding crop lightly over her breasts, then raising it and slapping it down hard on the nipple. Feeling herself trying to scream but unable to because of the gag in her mouth. The hot branding iron being brought to her skin and touching the tender inner thigh, searing her flesh.
Joan woke to the doorbell ringing. Slowly she crawled out of her bed and wrapped her robe around her shoulders. The light streaming through the living room windows made her squint as she treaded across the carpet to the door. She looked out the peep hole and saw no one. She made sure the chain was in place and cracked the door open. There was no one there, but before she closed the door, she happened to glance down and saw what made her nearly faint.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Her hand was shaking so badly that the paper in her hand could barely be read. The box that had been torn open lay there, full of the sex toys she had ordered. The paper, a regular, common, every day piece of notepad was the most sinister thing Joan had ever been close to.
It read, “Have fun with these, Joan. I WILL be watching.”