Just another non-shakespearian happy-painslut-story. This is an older one.

Sarah was working on her Weekend routine. Ever since she went to college and had to share a room with that black girl Liza she had to think of ways to satisfy herself secretly. Not that it would have been any different from the time she lived at home but somehow she hoped it would be easier once she got a couple of hundred miles between her and her parents. But luckily Liza left off every Friday like clockwork to go back to her own family so she got the time from Friday afternoon till Sunday afternoon for her own special amusement.

Chapter 01 – Lord Walshingham

     “You’ve done my nephew a bit of a bad turn,” said the imposing English lord.   Gwyneth and I had been forcibly conducted to the main hall of what I assumed was his country estate, Ashcroft Hall.  I had just demanded why we had been brought before him.

Chapter 4  "Mayhem in Manhattan"
================================

Out on the highway, I had chance to relax.  Ironically, if you stick
to the speed limit there is actually *less* chance of being pulled
over on the Interstate than on some side road.  Highway Patrol
officers and State Troopers assigned to major routes never have
problems making their quotas, so random checks are less frequent.

Chapter # 4

The three partners at B, B & B had spent several hours discussing and revising the Twelve Unspoken Character Traits they were looking for in the submissive woman they hired. The original version had originally been developed by Joan their Operations Director some weeks earlier. 

I could never finish this story. I couldn't decide what to do next. If
anything, there were too many possibilities, rather than too few. I put an "end
of part one" at the bottom, assuming I'll finish it one day.

__________________________________________________________

I was sitting in my usual spot in the last booth, working on a history
paper, when she came in. It was late April and I would be graduating from
college in less than three weeks. The paper I was working on was the last
one I'd ever write unless I decided to go on to grad school, something that
seemed fairly unlikely at the time. My name is Hanna Hill and I own a bar
called The Haven.

Helen worked for a small firm of accountants in town. 
She'd been there around six years and was well liked and 
respected within the organization. Her role was 
Administration Manager and she looked after a modest 
department of secretaries and administrative staff. 
Normally, she worked 9 to 5. She returned home 
punctually at 5:40 pm or perhaps 5:50 pm on a busy day.