Old 03-10-2018, 06:43 AM   #1
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Default Layla and the Puppets

Layla and the puppets

This is an old story I've had in mind for years. Someone tasked me with writing 2 pages of it. If you want me to continue, you can make me do so in my calendar. Every Sunday would work for me. It's not your usual fap story, it's longer. Tell me if you find it boring or not. This first part was supposed to be longer (I had to rewrite it in English since it's not my first language). I have a massive hangover today so it might not be my best English, sorry about that.

I hope you enjoy it!


It was not really a bar. The old warehouse in front of the university was taken over by students for longer that I could remember. It's a mix between a squat, an exhibition center, a café, a place for political meetings and soothing last nights' hangover. I was surprised when I saw her there. Layla was not the social kind. We were both studying mathematics at the uni, but I was barely seeing her in class. She would disappear without any warnings, then rise from the ashes she seemed to have vanished into to get one of the best grades. And she would never show up when we invited her to a party.
Layla could be invisible, but once you saw her, you couldn't look anywhere else. She had short hair, right from a 1950's movie, and was always wearing formal clothes: black suit, black tights, black tight skirt, only her heels and her eyes were colorful. She was sitting on a barstool, looking preoccupied. I decided to approach her:
— Are you in trouble?
— Hello, Tom. I'm alright.
— Really? You seem bothered by something.
— So? You'd offer to help, maybe?
— Why, yes! Is it about school?
— No, it's not about school.
— Come on, tell me!
She looked at me from bottom up and pinched her lips, then grinned.
— You're too curious. Sit down.
I sat on the bar stool in front of her, trying not to look at her cleavage.
— I want to get to know you, Layla.
— Do you know?
— Yes, you never come with us and we barely speak.
— Well... I could make use of you. But I need one thing.
— What is it?
— You have a choice. Either you walk away and you never get to satisfy your curiosity, or you come and help me. But if you do, I want you to go all the way. You do what I say, you don't back down, you don't complain. What do you say?
That last phrase aroused me a little. I couldn't say why, but when her voice got more forceful, my heartbeat accelerated immediately.
— Yes, okay. I will do what you want.
— Good. Now you come with me, we're leaving.
— What do we do?
— We need to get you dressed, we're going to a wedding reception.
— To a what?
— You will play the role of my boyfriend. I can't bring you in... these. You'll act as if you're deeply in love with me. When the reception is over, you leave.
— Why do you need me to play your boyfriend?
— So my family leaves me alone and doesn't peek its nose into my life.
— Still, I'm not so badly dressed.
She laughed, looking at my unironed shirt and my favourite jeans.
She grabbed my hand as we went inside a small store I've never seen before. There were couches and neatly organized sets of clothings along the walls. Apparently, she knew this place already.
— Do you have a favorite color for your tie?
— I don't wear ties...
She looked at me and laughed: 'Of course you don't. Blue it is.'
After talking to the tailor, he brought her several pieces of clothes for me to try. When I closed the curtain, Layla slipped inside quickly.
— Hey, I need some privacy.
— You're my boyfriend, remember?
— Yes but still…
— Consider that you are my property, mind and body, for the time of this operation. I can, see, use, abuse, any part of your body, from your mouth to your butthole. I decide what you do, what you say, what you think. Now get naked, we're in a hurry.
She threw an icy look at me. She was not kidding. I started to have a soft erection. It was clearly visible through my underwear but she didn't seem to care. She sat in the corner, handing me clothes one by one, commenting on them. Once fully dressed, she made me go out and told me to go next to the mirrors. Both her and the tailor were looking at me. I was not used to wear suits and this situation was making we quite uncomfortable.
— What do you think?
— Well, I don't know…
— Not you! Sir?
— I wish I had more time to fit this trouser, but you look dashing, young man.
— Yes, it should do the trick. You can add a travel bag. I'll pay now please. Pick up your things and go wait for me outside, Tom.
Later, I realized the suit costed 3 times more than a month of my salary as a barista. She then drove us to the country side, to her parents house. It was a big, beautiful house, almost tacky. She parked her car before the main gate.
— My parents can't see you like this.
— Like what?
— Not dressed, not shaved, and you smell like an old piece of muddy cardboard.
— Thanks...
— We will sneak in my old room. Take your suit and follow me.
We followed the bushes along the garden's walls, until we reached the side of the house. We could hear on the other side of the gardens the caterers placing tables and preparing dishes.
— You see this window on the second floor? You stay here against the wall. I will open it and you'll climb your way up.
I didn't had time to explain to her that he was afraid of heights. I started to wonder whether I should turn away from her. After all, why going through all this fuss just to please her? It's only when I tried to grab my phone that I realized she took it, as well as my wallet. I should've been angry at that point, but I was also weirdly horny. The way she looks at me made me want to crawl in front of her.
I heard her whistle softly from her room.
— Grab the suit and hang it on your belt. Hold on to the pipe in front of you tightly, you can use the ties as steps.
I began to climb the wall, but I stopped between the two floors. I was terrified. I couldn't let go of the pipe to push me towards the window.
— What are you doing?
— I… I can't. I can't climb, I'm sorry.
— Yes you can. You have to. Now, trust me. Put your left feet where there's a brick missing, just there on your left. Then push up and hold on to the ledge. I will catch you.
— Layla…
— You can either go up or go down, but either way you can't stay there. I'd rather like you go up, don't you?
I hold my breath and pushed my way up to the window. I panicked and fell over Layla in my rush to enter the house. We both fell on the ground. She carressed my cheek.
— I'm proud of you, Tom.
— Ehm… Thanks.
28-year old pansexual man from Europe.

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Old 03-10-2018, 05:33 PM   #2
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nice start. would love to hear the rest.

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