Seeking Men for DD's first few ideas

Started by DiverseDesires, June 02, 2010, 02:50:49 PM

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A first few ideas.......

1. “A slut with a name”  modern day, Male, older, role needed:   21yr old  Lisa, is mistakenly taken for a prostitute, on the way home late at night - story prompt below, which can lead in lots of different directions – let me know if you have somewhere you'd like to take it.  TAKEN

2. “Taming Adriana” modern day, male role needed:  Adriana, a spoiled, rich little madam, has been living the high life – but then Daddy insists she should settle down and stop the partying lifestyle, and as he holds the purse strings she pretends that she has met a sensible guy and is getting engaged.  Daddy says she must bring him to the ancestral home for a weekend to meet the family – so she advertises for a man to fill the role.  She plans on being the controller, the employer, but the the tables are turned when the guy she hires is not as meek as she thought, and by blackmailing her he takes control even before the weekend is at an end. TAKEN
3. I would love to do a regency romance, I have a story prompt (see “Cessy” below) but would be interested in hearing from anyone interested in this period.  I wouldn't mind how steamy it got, or not, as the case may be.

4. Would also be interested in older male teacher with me as a female student or staff; boss/secretary etc  Please see my ons and offs, as I would also love your suggestions for modern day, fantasy or historical roles


A Slut With a Name

Oh I was so cross!  Cross with myself for loosing my temper and having to walk all the way home, in the freezing cold.  Cross with the cheating bastard of my just become ex-boyfriend.  And even more cross with myself - for having dressed to please him earlier that evening. Which I was why I was freezing cold in my my short skirt, skimpy top, and these stupid high heels shoes, which were killing my feet.  If it wasn't so cold I'd take them off and walk barefoot.

Lord it was cold, it was going to take ages to walk all the way out to where I was living.  If a car came along I might be tempted to thumb a lift – although perhaps not dressed like this!  I heard a car approaching, unfortunately in the wrong direction, so my resolution to behave sensibly wasn't going to be put to the test.

I was surprised when the car drew up by the side of me and the window slid down.  I leaned down to look inside, wondering if the driver was lost, and found myself looking at a  older guy, looking rather cross and fed up.

“Well, how much?” he said abruptly.

“Er....? How much what?”  I snapped back at him, thinking what a rude guy!

“How much for you to suck me off?”  He replied impatiently.

“Oh!” I said the penny dropping “You think I'm a p-prostitute?” going bright red with embarrassment.  “N - no you've got it wrong, I m-mean you are mistaken” stuttering slightly.  And then pulling myself together and starting to feel upset and cross that he'd spoken to me in such a way, added, “I'm just walking home” and with that carried on walking down the the street.

He reversed back aways so that he was now ahead of me, got out of the car and waited for me to draw level, saying “Look, I'm sorry if you are offended, but if you will walk around dressed like a tart – you shouldn't be surprised at being propositioned!”

I just glared at him.   Raising one eyebrow slightly he looked me over, and realising just what he saw I felt like a cow for being rude to him.  “Sorry to be so rude, but I've had an awful night. I've just dumped my cheating pig of a boyfriend, and to cap it all I live in Hazlehurst, and my feet are killing me” I said

His eyes narrowed slightly “Well perhaps we could help each other out.  You presumably could do with a lift, and I could do with some relief from a cock-teasing little madam I took on a date tonight. How about you suck me off and I take you home?” he said his eyes resting on my large breasts clearly outlined under my little top.

I was about to tell him where to get off when I thought 'Why not?'  I had sucked my ex off enough times to keep him quiet, what was the difference?  I was dressed like a slut, why not be one, even becoming turned on by the idea!  I looked at him more closely - even though he was quite a bit older than me, actually he looked quite fit, tall, quite lean, with broad shoulders and better looking than my ex really.

“You're on.” I said feeling deliciously naughty.


Lord she had never known a storm like it before, it had come so suddenly, the sky was dark grey and orange, and the rain fell in sheets, so hard it stang her.  She could barely control her mount, terrified by the heavy rain, skittering at the thunder, her head tossing, desperate to get away from the fierce weather and bucking madly at the lightening when it flashed across the sky. 

Cessy knew the sheep barn was the closest shelter, and thought at least there should be some firewood left from lambing there, and she could get warm and dry while she waited the storm out.  As she gentled her horse encouraging her on, she wondered if in fact she might need to spend the night there , if the storm did not quieten,   as her Papa would probably think she had stayed with Miss Maysfield, and was sitting out the storm in comfort, sipping tea before her fire.

She could now just see the barn through the gloom, and she urged her mare 'Dina' on. As she reached the entrance  She slipped off the horse, picking up the skirt of her now soaked riding habit she took a firm hold of the Dina's bridle and led her into the barn  Then she stood stock still with a gasp as there was already someone in the barn.  A beautiful dark stallion stood patiently, nuzzling a gentleman lying on the floor.

Cessy, not one to fall into a fit of the vapours, and very used to dealing with a crisis, surveyed the scene and realised from the broken rungs of the ladder lying about him and way he lay, that he must have fallen from quite a height, and seemed unconscious.

She tied up Dina, and knelt beside him pushing the horse's wiffling nose out of the way, she took note of the man's breathing, which was good, so was his colour.  With the experience she had gained at the clinic and from her time in Brussels with the wounded soldiers after Waterloo, she professionally opened one eyelid, and then the other, noting from his lack of response that he was deeply unconscious, but also, with relief, that the pupils were both the same size.

She looked at his face, taking in the the dark lashes, the aristocratic nose and firm chin, he was a beautiful man, the only thing marring the perfection of his features was a large scar running from somewhere in his hair just above his ear, down his cheek and almost to his chin.  She could tell from the raised skin it must have been quite a deep cut, well-tended, but not that old, as it was still a little bit pink and he could still see faint marks from the stitches.  It was too old a wound to be the cause of his unconsciousness though so she gently felt his head, until slipping her hand beneath the back she felt the warm stickiness of his blood.

She was shivering quite badly now, but knew her own needs must wait and swiftly thought through what she must do.  The bleeding must me dealt with first, and the wound cleaned. Then warmth, as he must be kept warm. She lifted the skirt of her habit and undid her petticoat, thankful she was wearing the simple one she always wore under her riding habit.  She tore it into strips, and took half of them out to the doors and held them out into the rain, which was still so heavy, she only had to wait but a moment for them to be good and wet.

Putting his head over to one side she used the wet cloths to carefully clean the wound, and then gently palpated around it, relieved from the firm bone surrounding it that it looked as though his skull was not broken.  She folded a dry strip into a pad and held it in place with a couple more, using them as bandages around his head.

She stood and looked at him, considering the best way to make sure he staid warm and did not go into shock, as his skin was already quite chilled to her touch.  Thankfully she did not have to struggle to take his coat or waistcoat off as they already lay on a hurdle near the door, so he must have taken them off as he entered.  His fine lawn shirt was hardly damp, so she didn't need to remove it.  She took his cravat off though, to make him comfortable, and looking at his sopping wet breeches, knew that these too had to be removed.  She eyed his boots with their beautiful glossy shine, smiling to herself as she was sure it was not this perfect gentleman who had worked on them so lovingly. 

So as to keep his body still and his head quiet she sat on legs and tugged the boots off, the difficult tasking her quite a while, warming her slightly with its physicality and her shivering stopped.  Then she unlaced his breeches and peeled them and his stockings off his thighs and calves, uncovering his muscular strength.  She decided not to take off his undergarment, as, like his shirt, it was only slightly damp, and knew how prideful men were of the bodies and he would not want to be unclothed by a lady. Although, she chuckled to herself, she had seen enough of them in the last year and knew just how shocked most people in society would be if they knew!

The stallion was already standing by her mare, and they seemed to take comfort in being together, neither of them reacting to the storm outside except for an occasional toss of their heads at the thunder and lightning.  She tied the stallion though, just in case, and unsaddled them both, taking the blankets from underneath them back to her patient. She gently rolled him towards her, easing one of the blankets underneath them, her hands marveling at the muscular strength of him that she could feel clearly though the fabric of his shirt. She imagined running her hands underneath it feeling his muscles, something about him called to her, his body so beautiful in it's strength and unleashed power.  She wondered if he was a rake, and how many women had succumbed to his beauty and then blushing at her thoughts shook herself, good lord she had never imagined anything like that with a patient before, what must she be thinking of!

She laid him back down onto the blanket and covered him with other one, and then set about making a fire to warm them both.  Taking the tinder box from her saddle bag, gathering some straw from the corners of the barn and using some of the wood from the pile she soon had a goodly blaze going on the hearth the men used at lambing.  She gathered a bit more straw and wrapping in his cravat, she made a pillow for his head, and making sure it was still tilted slightly on one side to take the pressure of his wound and make him more comfortable. 

Now she knew she must deal with her own needs and get their clothes dry so she dragged a couple of hurdles closer to the fire and with some little difficulty twisting and wriggling to reach all the buttons at the back she took off her habit and laid it over the hurdle to dry, getting his coat and waistcoat too to lay beside it.

As she had already taken off her petticoat, all she was wearing now was her chemise and undergarments, and of course her half boots and stockings, both of which she took off. Her stockings joined their other clothes whilst she put her boots beside the fire with his.

She undid her hair, putting the pins carefully to one side, she sat with her back to the fire spreading her long chestnut locks in a curtain down her back to dry.  Clasping her knees to her chest for warmth, hugging them, she sat quietly, listening to the storm rage outside.  She looked at her patient's face, wondering who he was.  She had never seen him before, neither locally, nor in London., but it was obvious from the style and quality of his clothes and value of his beautiful stallion that he was a gentleman.  Perhaps the scar meant he was a soldier newly come home.

I guessed him to be about five and thirty, some ten years older than myself.  He had dark almost black hair, curling slightly from being wet and I wondered if he usually kept it swept back, as was the fashion.  His lashes were impossibly long laying on his cheek, and he looked so strong, but so vulnerable I had an urge to stroke his face and imagined kissing his full lips gently.  What was it about this man that made her think so?  She considered herself quite an ape leader, well passed marriageable age, and not at all what men of her caste would want in a wife, never had a man attracted her in this way.  When she had first come out she had had her flirtations with he beaux, but none of them inspired love in her, nor did any of them strike a chord of passion her being.

After that her life had led a very different path from society ladies, helping her uncle at the clinic whenever they stayed in London, and of course her time in Brussels with her uncle treated so many wounded soldiers.  She had thought she didn't need a man in her life as she definitely did not want a marriage of convenience, and had turned down a few of those when she was younger, and as for finding love she didn't believe she would find a man that loved her as she actually was, and let her be the person she needed to be.
"The imagination is the spur of delights… all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?" ~Marquis de Sade~

Imaginings  ~  Desirables  ~  Wilful Words  ~  Diary - A/A  Updated September 15th


Hi, I saw your teacher/student idea isn't taken yet. Since I'm a teacher myself who will never act on any fantasies or ideas IRL, I'd love to explore them here.
Would love to here back from you soon.