Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: Not How Most Therapists Work (The_PG/Cataclysm)

The tortured girl couldn't move, couldn't fight. She screamed and kicked, hurting her ankle as she thrashed. She couldn't stop that terrible box from making her cum. It brought another strong orgasm from her adorable form, and he switched it off. The young girl was a mess. Her tanned skin was dripping with sweat and her own dirty juices. Her bangs were plastered to her forehead and her hair was a total mess. Her eyes rolled in her head, seeming to have trouble focusing on one thing. Her clothes were just tugged off down or up her body to reveal her parts. She really did look the part of some kind of ravished child sex idol. She looked over at him, dazed, exhausted and pleading. She just wanted to go home. No more pleasure. She couldn't take much more, she'd go crazy if he made her cum a few more times. But the doctor had other plans for her limp, sweaty little body. He touched her tummy, and she groaned softly, her nerves on high alert after all of those strong orgasms. He began to fiddle with his box, and the electricity began to flow again as she let out a new pained groan. Her body was tensing up slowly as he messed with his dials. Soon, that pressure was slowly building. She began to move more, her body reacting strongly as always to that terrible electric current. She began to arch herself upwards, gasping in little breaths as her pussy leaked more fluids down her cute little ass. He set it just right, and watched her. Her chest heaved, and she moaned, feeling that pressure building right beneath the surface. It was so close.. Her hips thrust at the air, her body stretched taut as she was pushed right to the edge of a tremendous orgasm. He turned down the dial gently and she slumped back to the metal bed. He did it twice more, until she was sobbing and panting, her eyes pleading with him to finally let her cum. She'd be a fine girl to play with. Finally, he pushed the machine up to full tilt and her body jerked hard, and her mouth opened in a shriek of pure terror and extacy. She soon found a hot salty thing in her mouth. It took her a moment to realize that it was Dr. Matt's thick cock. It was only in an inch or so, and he came, spraying a few shots into her mouth. Her body was locked in orgasm and he had to rub her throat to keep her from drowning in his seed. The poor girl stayed arched, her body twitching violently as she was held in a state of perfect bliss and pain, for nearly two minutes. She collapsed to the table, gasping in huge breaths and shrieking at the top of her lungs, her body convulsing. Finally, her erratic movements shook the black box, and it slid off her slippery flesh and hit the ground. It didn't break, but the wires that went to the pads became disconnected. Cathrine's eyes rolled up into her head, and she slipped into unconsciousness.
Thread: Not How Most Therapists Work (The_PG/Cataclysm)

There were a few scary moments where Matt came down from the ridiculous high of his orgasm and found Cathrine unconscious beneath him. He quickly checked her pulse and breathing, but only after finding them normal did he let out a relaxed sigh and glance at his watch. Her mother wouldn't be back for a few minutes yet. Just enough time to clean up her wet little body, replace her clothes, fix her hair, and print out a few of the selected shots from the camera. He did not untie her yet. Instead he waited for her to startle awake. Immediately she looked ready to scream, so he placed his large hand over her mouth and put a finger to his own lips warning her to be quiet. Now... Don't go screaming dudette. I know you liked what happened to you. You felt the high, you rode the wave. It was delicious. You liked it more then chocolate. Didn'tcha? He nodded his head up and down, real slow like, and chuckled when she began to copy him. Good, now that we got that settled I want to show you something. Don't scream, mkay dude? Carefully he removed his hand, and picked up one of the many pictures he had made. The look of ecstasy on her face. Her flat breasts, taunt stomach, and hairless snatch. All of them bared for the world to see. You see dude, I'll post these all over the internet and all over your school if you tell anyone about what I did. Also, I'm gonna ask your mom if you can babysit my girlfriends kid tomorrow, she'll bring you to my house, and we'll have some fun. Mkay? Leaning over with his long locks falling around their faces, he kissed her lips sweetly. Then, realizing they had more time, he pressed his lips harder and forced his tongue inside and against Cathrine's. Meanwhile he unclasped the locks that bound her wrists and ankles, leaving her free to try and get away... Or wrap herself around him as he continued to kiss her hotly.
Thread: Not How Most Therapists Work (The_PG/Cataclysm)

The girl woke with a start, gasping and jerking in her chains as she came to. She quiverred, her body cool and wet, and she went to scream, but that cruel therapist put his strong hand over her mouth. She squirmed, but was still unable to move, and worse, was now feeling exhausted. She looked up and whimpered, nodding her head when he asked a question. Little Cathrine had enjoyed it, her messy thighs were proof enough of that. But she just couldn't fight him just yet. He pulled out a few large, glossy photos of her, and each one made her blush darker than the last. She was close to crying by the time he was done, her face scrunching up as she prepared to cry again. The full color photos all showed the girl in states of various orgasmic pleasure. Her arched back, her sweating body, her mouth hanging open as she moaned loudly. The girl began to whimper louder as she looked at all those awful pictures. The therapist told her that the next day she'd be babysitting, and she began to breathe faster, a look of terror coming over her face. No... No! Please! I can't take this! I'll die! She cried out, becoming frantic. He kissed her hard, holding down her head and pushing his thick tongue into her mouth. He untied her hands and she grabbed his head and pushed it back a bit. Please... Anything... Don't make me come to your house... She begged, squirming on the table, her hands covering her breasts and pussy.
Thread: Not How Most Therapists Work (The_PG/Cataclysm)

Matt was a bit disappointed. He broke the kiss by slapping Catharine hard across the cheek. Then he did it again on the opposite cheek so they both were rosy and a bit swollen. That shocked her into silence, long enough for him to speak in his chilled out, even keeled, monotone. Look girl, if you don't agree to, He carefully held up his fingers in air quotes, Babysit for me. I'm going to post these all over myspace, facebook, the internet. Then I'll email them to your parents. Everyone is going to see you having the time of your life, and not a single one shows my face. Or even this room. Nobody is going to believe you. Not when I have two assistants that will say anything I tell them to. It was fairly obvious from the look on her stunned little face that Catherine was beginning to understand. Sure, if it had been her word vs his with the pictures he probably would have been convicted. However, if he had two registered assistants who would swear that the door was open and they came in the room not once, but several times during the massage, well, nobody would believe a little horny girl. Not when a hunk like Matt had hurt her feelings by telling her she was too young for him to date, or kiss. Your mother will be here any second... So get dressed... Then make up your mind. Do you want to get paid to baby sit? Or half to move to a different city and go to a new school after everyone sees you naked. Hmmm? Your choice. Matt tossed the pictures on the chair, pointed to her clothes, and left the room to intercept her mother who had just arrived. He didn't need the nosy mom walking in on her naked daughter quite yet... That might come later. After a few minutes, he knocked on the door, All good? He asked as he stepped in with Cathrine's mom. Catherine, I was just telling your mom about babysitting for my girlfriends kid tomorrow. What do you think about doing that? We'll pay fifteen an hour, and the kids easy as play dough.
Thread: 40 words

sitting on a kitchen chair naked you facing me straddling me also naked me fucking you sitting up me deep inside you your breasts pressed against my chest our tongues dancing until we cum together sitting on a kitchen chair
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

I was in Pittsburg, staying at the Renaissance Hotel on 6th Street, having a late dinner in the Opus with three male co-workers, after a long day of conferencing. I have to admit I was worn out, but the wine, while relaxing me and helping to free me from the stress of the day, also served to heighten my already-attuned sexual radar. While we were sharing stories of business exploits mixed with ribald humor, my attention began to turn from the conversation and the prime rib in front of me, as my eyes locked first once then twice on a woman seated about 20 feet away. The brunette, with hair flowing just below her shoulders was eating with a female companion, and their laughter and upbeat spirit helped to lighten the darkened atmosphere of the swanky restaurant. By the time our eyes had locked on each other for the third time... being clearly more than just a glance... I felt a slight stirring in the lower regions. I think I was starting to get an erection.... With this third look, our eyes kept their attention on the other person, and she flashed me a quick, somehow shy, maybe embarrassed smile. She glanced aside at her friend, to make sure she had not noticed... and she was safe. Her dark-haired companion had been re-arranging the salad with her fork. Hopefully I thought she glanced back at me, to find an inviting, serious look that sought to communicate, I want you... now. Her eyes broke our stare, and she hurriedly fumbled with the slice of bread on her plate, while I grunted a response to my table mates, never looking away. For me... the hunt was on. Something about this girl... this woman... captivated me. Her mesmerizing eyes? The flow of her hair? Her relaxed laugh? Or a erotic energy that seemed focused my direction... I don't know. But I wanted her... I knew that. I took out a business card, scribbled my room number on the back, stuck it in my shirt pocket, and took a less-than-direct route to the restroom, passing within feet of this woman who had caught me with such an allure. A slight up-turn of the edges of my mouth as she glanced at me as I walked by, and I hoped the message was clear. I would know in a manner of minutes. I took a bit longer than needed in the restroom... brushed my fingers through my hair, and stepped back out into the restaurant, my eyes immediately locking on her position. As though on cue, she stood up, excused herself and started toward the women's restroom. I paused momentarily, and then brushed near her shoulder as we both rounded a table. I spun around apologetically but planned, reaching for her hand ever so briefly to appologize for my clumsiness, and slipped my card into her hand. She assured me, softly, Oh, don't worry about it, and the game was on. She picked up the hidden cues, playing along with me, conveying -- without so much as a word -- that she felt a desire for me, as well. My heart was pounding, wildly... Could others hear it? ... and wondered if I would learn her name before our first kiss.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

The brush of my body against this woman was so much more than incidental. If it were possible for there to be electricity between two complete strangers, that's what I felt. As I returned to my table, I kept an eye on you as you walked toward the restroom, like someone distracted, almost in a hurry. I imagined you in there, glancing in the mirror, studying the name on the card, taking in the room number. Would you crush it and throw it into the wastecan? Would you report me as some kind of stalker to the hostest? Or would you accept my... invitation? My heart was pounding wildly. I excused myself from the table, telling my co-workers that I needed to make it an early night. I then took the check, scribbled my name and room number on it, to be added to my charge, and disappeared out of the restaurant before you had the chance to return to your table. My hand trembled as I pushed the button for the elevator. I had done nothing like this ever before, and for all the ways it could go wrong, resolved never to do it again. Except. Except that I was totally memerized by your eyes and the connection I felt we had made. My mouth was dry as I entered my room, slipped out of my shoes and my suitcoat. I checked my hair in the mirror and made sure the lighting was soft but not dark. And then waited. Kevin, what kind of idiot are you? I wondered to myself. Surely you would never come to my room.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

Gone. Great googy mooglies, what kind of idiotic moron was I? Closing my eyes and turning back around the corner, I catch sight of you at the elevators, pressing the button to go up. To your room, I can only assume, or hope, and squeezing back into the alcove, I hold my breath, unsure as to why I'm hiding from you. It was that blush that was streaked across my cheeks, I was sure of it. Possibilities swirled in my head as I considered what I might be able to... what excuse I could... Of course. I looked flushed. Maybe I was... sick, yes. I had to go. Wendy, of course she would understand, wouldn't she? It wasn't like they might not have another time to catch up, reminisce and hear about Lance, or whatever next conquest she had made. It had been nice to hear about, since I haven't been with someone for almost a month. Work. Life. It went by so fast. As did opportunities. Squaring my shoulders, I resolutely move to our table and smile down at Wendy, whose eyes show concern for my appearance. Something must not have agreed with me, I say with just the right touch of weakness. I'm going to see about maybe... staying overnight here. I don't even trust myself to drive. She looks like she's going to come up with some excuse, but I brush them all away. You're not even finished your meal, hun. And since I'm here, we'll be able to continue our conversation... Tomorrow. Cutting off anything further, I say, Think nothing of it, and walk swiftly to the elevators before my resolve wanes and I ask myself a stupid question. Like... what was I going to say to... Kevin... to you... when I got there? The doors open and I step in, still considering. Then my eyes widen as the elevator doors close on my startled expression, and I half try to talk myself up and talk myself out of this next move. Ungrateful, tinted mirrors deepen my blush and I lean against them in defiance, seeking the coolness of them while reaching for that place, that solid place where I made my decision. Still searching, the doors open on your floor. Although I memorized the room number, I still glance down to my palm, just to reassure myself that I didn't actually imagine this whole thing. Stepping quietly down the hall, I pad along the carpet and stopping in front of your door, my hand hovers, about to knock. Should I tap? Or knock? 'Oh, hell,' I think, 'snap out of it, Teresa! You're here now. Why did you take that first step if you weren't sure?' Wavering, but daring as well, I choose a comfortable knock in between, which STILL sounds too loud to me and I hold my breath, now unsure that you're even IN your room.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

The knock was tentative, and my heart skipped a beat. I was nervous as hell, and tried to swallow, but there was nothing there to swallow. I was scared my voice would crack as I opened the door. I had to look calm, assured, confident. I sure wasn't feeling it. I swung the door open... and my eyes couldn't blink. You were captivating across the room up close... six feet away was it?... you were stunning. My heart was pounding. Please don't run , I said silently... to you. Please don't run ... Hi. I'm Kevin. My voice sounded unnatural. I'm really glad... you accepted my invitation. Want to come in? I extended my hand for a handshake. It felt unnatural, but that's what we do in our culture. My tongue extended just slightly to wet my lips. I hoped you didn't notice. Damn, she's hot , I thought... hoping my words were just inside my head.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

Although I was expecting it, the door opening almost scared me. As it was, I almost jumped and would have even more embarrassed than I already was, standing outside of a strange man's room. Your room. My hand clutched the card reflexively as I was held by you standing in front of me, looking every ounce as nervous as I was. I almost stepped forward without an invitation so that I could guarantee my feet would work and my knees wouldn't give out. And to show my resolve to simply come into your room. But was anything really that simple? Close up, I could see your eyes more clearly, and the connection that was felt a few floors down now galvanized itself so that I could not look away. I wanted to say, 'I don't usually do this,' but until something more than gaping shock and erratic heartbeats happened, I found it a distracting thought that was irrelevant in the extreme. And glad not to have to say a damned thing, because it seemed that every ounce of spit I had in my mouth had vacated the premises. I couldn't even swallow. Kevin, I heard myself repeat, making sure that I was still in reality and that tinny sound in my ears really WAS my voice. Nice to meet you, I reply politely, automatically and then, you ask the question that I'd been asking myself all the damned way up here. I seem to be too distracted to even introduce myself. Seeing your hand, I grasp it, and the warmth steals its way into mine, then travels almost halfway up my arm. It was stronger than the briefest touch downstairs, and I am drawn into the room before I can even answer you. Thank you, I murmur, and then suddenly become aware of my surroundings. Expecting someone? I ask, surprising myself with my boldness, and then feeling that blush paint its way from my neck and then crawl across my features as I look away, realizing that I haven't even let go of your hand yet. Licking your lips was the least of my concerns, as I pressed the back of my free hand to my cheek, trying to will down the warmth.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

Your nervousness helped to settle my own I was grateful not to be the only one wondering well the hell I had gotten myself into. At the same time, I was nearly speechless. When we were in the restaurant, I had spent enough time staring at you leering, some might say that I had nearly memorized your features. But here, in person, you were more beautiful than I had realized. It's strange to see, but here, up close, I saw you may I say? your imperfections the hairs that were out of place, the frightenness in your eyes, the very... womanness of you... and I was that much more attracted. Our hands were still joined, and there was some electricity there. I wasn't sure I could or ever wanted to let go. And then a soft smile spread across my face, as I saw the blush spread down to your upper chest, the way a woman does. I'm sorry... I still don't know your name. My heart was racing, and then I started to blush. I was aware of the beginning of an erection. My eyes tried to reassure you... you were safe, here, with me.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

Teresa, I say, feeling your hesitation at letting me go my response so breathless, I have to clear my throat and say it again. Teresa, I repeat, with a stronger voice. Finally gathering enough courage to look up at you, I am immediately reminded of why I decided to come up to your room - accept your invitation - in the first place. It was as though your eyes were drinking me in I watched, fascinated, and felt at that moment, that I was the most important thing to you. Your hand had not let go of mine, and my fingers curled tighter around yours. The attention made me shy, and my lips twitched with a self-conscious smile. It might have been that blush that brushed your cheeks, and a look in your eyes that sought to calm me. It could have been the promise of muscular, broad shoulders as they were barely contained inside of your shirt. Or it could have been that feeling that spread further from our contact that drew me closer, and made me want to feel more of it. Whatever it was, I felt my heartbeat slowing, my breathing become deeper, and the nervousness and self-doubt that I had when I tentatively tapped on your door slowly dissipate. That connection I felt in the restaurant was amplified by your apparent hesitation as well, and a tingle spread upwards and outwards as my lips parted slightly. Hi, I venture softly, and smile, my eyes sparkling. Nice room.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

Hi, Teresa, I respond shyly, quietly. Something about knowing your name makes my heart race it's as if that's the sign that this isn't just a dream... that you truly are... here in my room. Our hands still joined, I half bring you in while you half respond on your own, and my left hand goes to swing the door shut. I start to become more bold, laying aside the thoughts of you-should-have-never-done-this in exchange for yes-she's-truly-here. Suddenly the proper greeting is no longer a hand-shake but a hug... soft, reassuring, warm, even comforting. May I? I ask as I pull you gently close, our right hands changing from a shake to a hold while my left goes around your back. Your body pulls close and I breathe in your aroma somehow the soft scent that you carry perfectly matches what I would have expected, and though somehow forbidden this hug feels perfectly right. It's as if we... match. Do you live here in Pittsburg... Teresa? I ask. My voice is remarkably soft. I am keenly aware of the rhythm of my heart, and of how your hair was soft against my cheek.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

As you draw me closer, enveloping me in a hug, doesn't that word pale in the face of what was actually happening?, I feel my heart beat in my chest, because the waiting and wondering has somehow stopped. I didn't misunderstand. And you didn't look at me as though a third eye had grown from my forehead. You didn't even laugh at my boldness and slam the door to your room in my face... all very imagined outcomes from the chance encounter. Your eyes were warm, inviting, caring, and the touch, intimate and tender, is returned just as tenderly. Your presence that caught my eye in the restaurant was so much more intoxicating this close, your scent filling my senses with a fine mix of freshness, nerves and something that escapes my catalogue of smells. Not cologne. Not applied. This must only mean that it's you. Without even speaking, I lean into that warmth, and hear your voice resonating in your chest. The sound is even more calming, and when you say my name for a second time, I feel a sharp zing, and stifle a gasp. Everything was conspiring against me, and this meeting, this tryst, was more anticpated than anything I had ever waited for in my life. My hand heats in yours slightly, as I'm very aware of the skin contact and the fact that you are still touching me. Yes, Kevin, I murmur, nestled in your arms. It's a comforting place and one I would prefer not to relinquish just yet. And do you often travel here?