meangry1
TMF Master
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2003
- Messages
- 728
- Points
- 0
Bright blue eyes that shined beautifully. The eyes are were like an crisp beautiful day on the shores of the Pacific. Something you could honestly lose yourself in for hours and hours at a time if you were not careful. But the blue eyes only acted to accentuate the beauty of the woman. If you were to look beyond the eyes you'd see nose that, while not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, was fair beyond serviceable.
You'd see flowing locks of brilliant fire red hair. An innocent yet seductive smile. The pearly whites that most have to work arduously to attain. Smooth skin, tanned to perfection. The look of softness that comes only from the fairer sex. And that was merely her face.
Let's not forget about a body that even the great Michelangelo could not replicate. The measurements did her no justice. 34C-25-35. Slender but still buxom enough to let you know that she enjoyed a cheeseburger every once and a while. Perfectly toned arms that could cover her almost brilliant bust. A midsection defined perfectly with a little bit of muscle thrown in to a slight showing of her rib bones. Strong yet beautiful legs that would turn heads down any runway. And ample sized feet long slender toes painted a dark shade of blue.
Who was this person, this Goddess?
None other than the recent $250,000 WWE RAW Diva Search winner herself, Christy Hemme.
Currently, she was doing a photo shoot for the WWE website. Considering that the WWE site featured a pretty comprehensive pictorial of all it’s Diva’s within the confines of a specialized page, it was fair to say that this was a pretty decent medium to sell the new christened Diva. What with hundreds of thousands of drooling fans logging in every day and all.
Christy was playing against a black backdrop, in a black satin bra and matching thong. One would think that it would take some amount of shame to be so scantily clad, but Christy knew herself. She knew she was a fine dish and that in and industry that puts emphasis on sexuality in its product, she would have to appease the marks to earn her keep. She put her arms behind her head, making sure to mess up her mane of red hair. With a seductive smile and a look of want in her eyes, the photographer had all he needed to snap the last picture with this current attire.
“Great job Christy. You‘re looking real hot. We‘ve got one last thing to photograph you in and we‘ll call it a day.”
Christy could barely hold her excitement. It was Tuesday, and with Raw a good week away, she had a lot of time off to do whatever she wanted, whether it be a little bit of snow boarding or even just sitting around her apartment being lazy for a change. Being a little energetic, she busted out, “Great! What we changing‘ too?”
With the support staff changing the backdrop to white, the costume designer for the shoot stepped forward with a large white feather boa in hand. Christy’s jaw just about hit the floor.
“We‘re gonna have you wear the boa, get a few shot of it, and be done. Any questions?” The photographer rushed. Obviously, he had placed to be as well.
“Just…just the boa?” Ms. Hemme stated in a dual whine and quizzical voice. “I mean, nothing under it. Just the boa?”
The photographer nodded his head. “Yes. Just the boa. I mean, you enjoy being an exhibitionist to a certain extent, right?”
Christy shivered and covered her body. “Yeah, but just the thought of wearing something like that tickles me like crazy.”
The costume designer gave a giggle in response. “It looks rather tickly, doesn‘t it? Don‘t worry, it will only be a couple minutes anyway. I mean, we had Benoit in a meat freezer for his photo shoot with a bloody cut off. Would you rather be in that skimpy two piece in there?”
Christy shuddered to think of how terrible that would be. With a sly smirk, she responded with a “Nah. Feathers beats freezing cold any day of the week.”
And with that, she took the feather boa and walked to her changing room. Inside, she gripped the boa and looked at it with her face lighting up with joy. She bit her bottom lip, looking down at it in a sensuous manner. What Christy failed to explain to the photographer and costume designer was her insane level of ticklishness. Just the mere thought of feathers caressing her ample body was enough to make her chortle. Beyond that, it had a very different effect on her. She was terribly ticklish, but she enjoyed it. Immensely. Past boyfriends who got close to her found out that her desire to be tied down and tickled skillfully was extremely high. She was a ball of energy, always seeming somewhat tomboyish. But nothing turned her on more then playing the part of submissive damsel.
She quickly stripped herself of her bra and thong and threw the feather boa over he neck. The mere touch of it against he skin made her giggle. She then used it to cover her quickly hardening nipples, tickling them insanely with the soft feathers of her boa. She then used the remainder of the boa to cover up her most intimate of areas. That brought forth a sharp wave of pleasure through her. Staring at herself in a mirror, she could not believe she was about to trot forth and allow herself be photographed like this.
And even more so at this state arousal.
Quickly, she made her way back and had her photographs taken. They would be sure to have the internet fan boys eyes shoot out of their skulls. The shoot took fifteen agonizing minutes for Christy, who was becoming aroused by the little feathers lightly tracing her private areas and neck. She was glad when it was all over, because it was becoming quiet embarrassing to her. With the crew all done, they packed up their things and left. Christy was quick to change to a more comfortable attire, that being a light blue tank top, a floral print mini-skirt, and black high-heeled open-toed sandals.
Christy made small talk with some of the people as they left, waiting to leave last. She wanted to take in her wonderful placement in life. Working with the WWE in the capacity she was was somewhat of a dream come true for her. She turned out the lights for the studio, and then walked on out.
Behind her, she heard the queerest of sounds. Someone taking a bite out of an apple. She could hear the juices and the chewing directly behind her as she tried to make her way to her vehicle. She suddenly stopped and turned around, glancing directly at the culprit.
Trish Stratus.
Dressed in a tight fitting %100 Percent Stratusfaction shirt, a pair of tight denim jeans, and a pair of ADIDAS sneakers, Trish rested her back against the wall near the studio, chomping away at the apple before looking up at Christy.
“Hey there Big Red. How as the shoot?”
Christy was somewhat taken back by Trish being here at this time. After all, it was nearing midnight, and all the shoots for the day were long done before hers even took place. But, she decided to be friendly anyway. “Hey Trish. What‘s up?”
“Oh nothing, just waiting for you is all.” Trish had the most evil smile on her face as she sucked her fingers of the sticky remnants of the apple.
“I‘m not for drinking tonight Trish. Maybe some other time, yeah?” Christy was tired. She wanted to go home. To sit on her comfy couch and watch re-runs on Nick at Nite until she passed into slumber. She wasn’t for getting hammered and having to hug the porcelain god the next day.
“Oh, neither am I. I was thinking something a little more…intimate.” Trish cooed.
Christy was somewhat puzzled now. “Sorry, whatever you have in mind, I‘ll have to pass for now. I think I have a spot on the couch currently waiting for my return.”
Trish threw the core of the apple onto the floor and walked towards Christy. “Sweety, you don‘t have a choice.”
Before she could respond, Trish snapped her finger. Christy was suddenly gripped from behind. She struggled to get free, but before she could make any headway, a white rag was clamped tightly over her nose and mouth. Christy took a panicked breath, which spelled doom for her as she sucked in fumes from the chloroform soaked rag. Before she knew what she had just breathed in, she passed out.
Trish looked at the masked assailant now gripping the lifeless form of Christy Hemme. Trish could only smile.
“I told you it would be that easy.”
*An Hour Later*
Christy stirred awake quickly inside a pitched black room. Her head swam in pain, as if someone had hit her upside the head with a brick. She cleared the cobwebs as best as she could, bringing her hand over to rest against her head.
Well, would have.
Had her arms not been tied behind the chair she was sitting in.
She was startled at first, and tried to use force to get her arms to budge. It did no good. Her arms were brought up over her head, and her wrists were brought behind her. There her wrists were attached to a fur lined pair of cuffs that were beside one another. Basically, her arms were up, bent at the elbow. Her elbows were also strapped to the chair.
She gave off a frustrated breath. She tried to move her legs, but those too would not budge. She could feel her ankles trapped in separate stocks, pulled wide apart to force her legs open. Her thighs were tied as well, thanks to being strapped to the seat of her chair. She tried to adjust her position, but even that was futile thanks to straps that held her in place at her waist and on her head. She also took notice that she was stripped from her casual clothing to a skimpy red lace bra and panty. They left nothing to the imagination.
Currently, she was scared. Stuck in a dark basement with god knows what, she was in deep trouble. She began to scream at the top of her lungs.
“HELP! SOMEBODY! HELP ME! I‘M BEING HELD CAPTIVE! I‘M NOT PLAYING! SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP ME!”
For a few more minutes, this went on, until she heard faint footsteps. They obviously came from behind her. She could hear footsteps against a wooden staircase, which was also behind her. She took this opportunity to beg.
“PLEASE! PLEASE OH GOD PLEASE DON‘T KILL ME! I‘LL PAY YOU! I‘VE GOT A QUARTER OF A MILLION DOLLARS LAYING AROUND! I‘LL GIVE IT ALL TO YOU! JUST PLEASE…GOD…DON‘T HURT ME!”
Then, the lights turned on. The sudden brightness adjustment forced Christy to have to close her eyes. She continued to hear footsteps behind her, inching ever closer. Now, she kept her eyes closed in pure terror. She couldn’t beg. Couldn’t scream. She was sure that this would be her end.
And then, her cheek was pinched aggressively. Her eyes shot open when she heard a rather familiar voice make light of her situation.
“Looks like Big Red is ready for a kinky session of fun, if I do say so myself.”
Christy vocal cords belted out the culprit before her. She was no longer afraid for her life.
“TRISH?!”
She then heard a grouping of footsteps behind her as Trish beamed and looked at the people ascending the stairs.
“Guys, hope your ready for some fun. We got a new girl to break in.”
To be continued
Any help you guys can give me is much appreciated, as are comments. This is my first story, after all, and I don't want it to suck.
You'd see flowing locks of brilliant fire red hair. An innocent yet seductive smile. The pearly whites that most have to work arduously to attain. Smooth skin, tanned to perfection. The look of softness that comes only from the fairer sex. And that was merely her face.
Let's not forget about a body that even the great Michelangelo could not replicate. The measurements did her no justice. 34C-25-35. Slender but still buxom enough to let you know that she enjoyed a cheeseburger every once and a while. Perfectly toned arms that could cover her almost brilliant bust. A midsection defined perfectly with a little bit of muscle thrown in to a slight showing of her rib bones. Strong yet beautiful legs that would turn heads down any runway. And ample sized feet long slender toes painted a dark shade of blue.
Who was this person, this Goddess?
None other than the recent $250,000 WWE RAW Diva Search winner herself, Christy Hemme.
Currently, she was doing a photo shoot for the WWE website. Considering that the WWE site featured a pretty comprehensive pictorial of all it’s Diva’s within the confines of a specialized page, it was fair to say that this was a pretty decent medium to sell the new christened Diva. What with hundreds of thousands of drooling fans logging in every day and all.
Christy was playing against a black backdrop, in a black satin bra and matching thong. One would think that it would take some amount of shame to be so scantily clad, but Christy knew herself. She knew she was a fine dish and that in and industry that puts emphasis on sexuality in its product, she would have to appease the marks to earn her keep. She put her arms behind her head, making sure to mess up her mane of red hair. With a seductive smile and a look of want in her eyes, the photographer had all he needed to snap the last picture with this current attire.
“Great job Christy. You‘re looking real hot. We‘ve got one last thing to photograph you in and we‘ll call it a day.”
Christy could barely hold her excitement. It was Tuesday, and with Raw a good week away, she had a lot of time off to do whatever she wanted, whether it be a little bit of snow boarding or even just sitting around her apartment being lazy for a change. Being a little energetic, she busted out, “Great! What we changing‘ too?”
With the support staff changing the backdrop to white, the costume designer for the shoot stepped forward with a large white feather boa in hand. Christy’s jaw just about hit the floor.
“We‘re gonna have you wear the boa, get a few shot of it, and be done. Any questions?” The photographer rushed. Obviously, he had placed to be as well.
“Just…just the boa?” Ms. Hemme stated in a dual whine and quizzical voice. “I mean, nothing under it. Just the boa?”
The photographer nodded his head. “Yes. Just the boa. I mean, you enjoy being an exhibitionist to a certain extent, right?”
Christy shivered and covered her body. “Yeah, but just the thought of wearing something like that tickles me like crazy.”
The costume designer gave a giggle in response. “It looks rather tickly, doesn‘t it? Don‘t worry, it will only be a couple minutes anyway. I mean, we had Benoit in a meat freezer for his photo shoot with a bloody cut off. Would you rather be in that skimpy two piece in there?”
Christy shuddered to think of how terrible that would be. With a sly smirk, she responded with a “Nah. Feathers beats freezing cold any day of the week.”
And with that, she took the feather boa and walked to her changing room. Inside, she gripped the boa and looked at it with her face lighting up with joy. She bit her bottom lip, looking down at it in a sensuous manner. What Christy failed to explain to the photographer and costume designer was her insane level of ticklishness. Just the mere thought of feathers caressing her ample body was enough to make her chortle. Beyond that, it had a very different effect on her. She was terribly ticklish, but she enjoyed it. Immensely. Past boyfriends who got close to her found out that her desire to be tied down and tickled skillfully was extremely high. She was a ball of energy, always seeming somewhat tomboyish. But nothing turned her on more then playing the part of submissive damsel.
She quickly stripped herself of her bra and thong and threw the feather boa over he neck. The mere touch of it against he skin made her giggle. She then used it to cover her quickly hardening nipples, tickling them insanely with the soft feathers of her boa. She then used the remainder of the boa to cover up her most intimate of areas. That brought forth a sharp wave of pleasure through her. Staring at herself in a mirror, she could not believe she was about to trot forth and allow herself be photographed like this.
And even more so at this state arousal.
Quickly, she made her way back and had her photographs taken. They would be sure to have the internet fan boys eyes shoot out of their skulls. The shoot took fifteen agonizing minutes for Christy, who was becoming aroused by the little feathers lightly tracing her private areas and neck. She was glad when it was all over, because it was becoming quiet embarrassing to her. With the crew all done, they packed up their things and left. Christy was quick to change to a more comfortable attire, that being a light blue tank top, a floral print mini-skirt, and black high-heeled open-toed sandals.
Christy made small talk with some of the people as they left, waiting to leave last. She wanted to take in her wonderful placement in life. Working with the WWE in the capacity she was was somewhat of a dream come true for her. She turned out the lights for the studio, and then walked on out.
Behind her, she heard the queerest of sounds. Someone taking a bite out of an apple. She could hear the juices and the chewing directly behind her as she tried to make her way to her vehicle. She suddenly stopped and turned around, glancing directly at the culprit.
Trish Stratus.
Dressed in a tight fitting %100 Percent Stratusfaction shirt, a pair of tight denim jeans, and a pair of ADIDAS sneakers, Trish rested her back against the wall near the studio, chomping away at the apple before looking up at Christy.
“Hey there Big Red. How as the shoot?”
Christy was somewhat taken back by Trish being here at this time. After all, it was nearing midnight, and all the shoots for the day were long done before hers even took place. But, she decided to be friendly anyway. “Hey Trish. What‘s up?”
“Oh nothing, just waiting for you is all.” Trish had the most evil smile on her face as she sucked her fingers of the sticky remnants of the apple.
“I‘m not for drinking tonight Trish. Maybe some other time, yeah?” Christy was tired. She wanted to go home. To sit on her comfy couch and watch re-runs on Nick at Nite until she passed into slumber. She wasn’t for getting hammered and having to hug the porcelain god the next day.
“Oh, neither am I. I was thinking something a little more…intimate.” Trish cooed.
Christy was somewhat puzzled now. “Sorry, whatever you have in mind, I‘ll have to pass for now. I think I have a spot on the couch currently waiting for my return.”
Trish threw the core of the apple onto the floor and walked towards Christy. “Sweety, you don‘t have a choice.”
Before she could respond, Trish snapped her finger. Christy was suddenly gripped from behind. She struggled to get free, but before she could make any headway, a white rag was clamped tightly over her nose and mouth. Christy took a panicked breath, which spelled doom for her as she sucked in fumes from the chloroform soaked rag. Before she knew what she had just breathed in, she passed out.
Trish looked at the masked assailant now gripping the lifeless form of Christy Hemme. Trish could only smile.
“I told you it would be that easy.”
*An Hour Later*
Christy stirred awake quickly inside a pitched black room. Her head swam in pain, as if someone had hit her upside the head with a brick. She cleared the cobwebs as best as she could, bringing her hand over to rest against her head.
Well, would have.
Had her arms not been tied behind the chair she was sitting in.
She was startled at first, and tried to use force to get her arms to budge. It did no good. Her arms were brought up over her head, and her wrists were brought behind her. There her wrists were attached to a fur lined pair of cuffs that were beside one another. Basically, her arms were up, bent at the elbow. Her elbows were also strapped to the chair.
She gave off a frustrated breath. She tried to move her legs, but those too would not budge. She could feel her ankles trapped in separate stocks, pulled wide apart to force her legs open. Her thighs were tied as well, thanks to being strapped to the seat of her chair. She tried to adjust her position, but even that was futile thanks to straps that held her in place at her waist and on her head. She also took notice that she was stripped from her casual clothing to a skimpy red lace bra and panty. They left nothing to the imagination.
Currently, she was scared. Stuck in a dark basement with god knows what, she was in deep trouble. She began to scream at the top of her lungs.
“HELP! SOMEBODY! HELP ME! I‘M BEING HELD CAPTIVE! I‘M NOT PLAYING! SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP ME!”
For a few more minutes, this went on, until she heard faint footsteps. They obviously came from behind her. She could hear footsteps against a wooden staircase, which was also behind her. She took this opportunity to beg.
“PLEASE! PLEASE OH GOD PLEASE DON‘T KILL ME! I‘LL PAY YOU! I‘VE GOT A QUARTER OF A MILLION DOLLARS LAYING AROUND! I‘LL GIVE IT ALL TO YOU! JUST PLEASE…GOD…DON‘T HURT ME!”
Then, the lights turned on. The sudden brightness adjustment forced Christy to have to close her eyes. She continued to hear footsteps behind her, inching ever closer. Now, she kept her eyes closed in pure terror. She couldn’t beg. Couldn’t scream. She was sure that this would be her end.
And then, her cheek was pinched aggressively. Her eyes shot open when she heard a rather familiar voice make light of her situation.
“Looks like Big Red is ready for a kinky session of fun, if I do say so myself.”
Christy vocal cords belted out the culprit before her. She was no longer afraid for her life.
“TRISH?!”
She then heard a grouping of footsteps behind her as Trish beamed and looked at the people ascending the stairs.
“Guys, hope your ready for some fun. We got a new girl to break in.”
To be continued
Any help you guys can give me is much appreciated, as are comments. This is my first story, after all, and I don't want it to suck.
