The Impossible Seduction keeps getting hotter and more twisted and less and less impossible!
Two dominant lesbian neighbors seek to seduce and sexually tame and totally dominate the women of the gated community they all live in. The adult women they want to have submit to them — blondes, brunettes, and redheads — total ten.
All ten of their adult female neighbors are straight heterosexuals and none have any experience with lesbian sex. For each one it is a first time experience. Can the two dominants make them all love lesbian submission?
Megan Reynolds decided to leave the gated community having mixed feelings about her newfound sexuality. But she had to get past the black lesbian prison parolee “security guards”….
Now their leader has spoken a key phrase, one which Megan’s new Mistress instructed her meant that she has to do whatever that person then tells her to do! Will her submissiveness rule her and make her submit to a new Mistress?
The dominants unleash on Janelle the consequence for failing to seduce Bridget Finn. Of course, they would have done it even if she had seduced Bridget! Is it really a punishment if she likes it?
The dominants still have Naomi Pierson literally in their grasp and are watching all the other women, plotting and planning, as their evil conspiracy takes further shape and meets ever greater success. Can anything stop these two wicked women?
Domination and submission, lesbian seduction, nasty and naughty forbidden sex, bondage, hot and sexy.
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I write erotica. Sharing the inner thoughts and emotions of characters is the ultimate voyeurism.
I am a big believer in plot and character development.
I want the characters to be as real as possible. Character motivations drive the events and
Sex scenes are detailed and graphic. I want to always give a perfect picture of exactly what is
happening and why and how and how the characters feel physically and emotionally.
I have two degrees and am dedicated to providing the highest quality erotica.
If you’re curious about my chosen name, I can tell you how it came about. I was once an
inanimate small Russian Orthodox church in Serafimovich in Volgograd Oblast. I was brought to
life during a 3:00AM “witching hour” satanic rite conducted by a small cult that had never done
much before and not much since. I am it’s lone claim to fame.
Although I promptly refused the cultist’s demands that I storm through the town leaving a path of
destruction (my refusal seemed to surprise and upset them) I knew I would not be welcome in
the world of mankind. Who wants a big (even a small church is big) moving church wondering
around asking questions and raising even more questions?
I left for the broad open plains in the surrounding areas. I usually stayed still during the day and
wondered about at night assuaging my curiosities so as to cause the least alarm among the
The cultists did pursue me with great insistence and continued demands for me to be violent.
They claimed I owed it to them for utilizing the souls of deceased Nazis from nearby Stalingrad
in order to bring me to life.
Despite the politeness of my refusals they eventually, the fourth night, took to throwing Molotov
cocktails at me. Ever been set on fire? I’ll share this with you: not fun. I do not recommend it.
Having newly mobile drain spouts and gutters and ready access to streams saved my hide. My
This went on night after night and, let me tell you, it got old quick. Then… things got worse. The
Angels showed up. The avenging kind. Revenge for what? Well, as they claim, I guess I am
some kind of “abomination before God”. I really don’t get that “before God” part. Is it OK to be
an abomination behind him?
So, unlike the Molotov cocktail throwing cultists, these Avenging Angels utilized lightning bolts.
But, just like flaming Molotov cocktails, those lightning bolts got old quick. Real quick.
So, how am I still here to tell you about all this and how can I even type it? I will tell you.
I’m really quite a lucky church even within bouts of bad luck. Just two months before the cultists
animated me the priest of my church needed to replace the lightning rod on me. A rusty
contraption poorly assembled and a hazard to the churchgoing folk.
A normal average-sized lightning rod could never have absorbed those Avenging Angel
lightning bolts. However, my priest was a proud priest and he wanted me to be taller than that
other Orthodox Church on the Western edge of Serafimovich. By doggedly yelling at the
congregation seven Sunday’s in a row he raised enough money to have the biggest lightning
rod in all of Volgograd Oblast installed on me, thus bringing my height up an additional
So, I mostly absorbed those lightning bolts. Those Avenging Angels were very upset and I did
feel bad for them but, hey, what choice, right?
Some lightning bolts did get through when shot from near enough and at certain angles. Hurt
bad! Note: Pain is one of the biggest drawbacks to being brought to life. I think we can all agree
One benefit of Avenging Angel’s lightning is poor aim. By accident this led to a sharp decrease
in the population of cultists. The downside of Avenging Angels is that they don’t need to sleep
and never give up. They don’t get bored. They don’t lose focus. They just keep coming.
I didn’t sleep for twenty-seven days and the whole time was so painful.
Even my giant lightning rod was beginning to melt….
The end was coming for me. A big conflagration. Then ashes. Then Hell, right? They weren’t
going to destroy me and then take me up to Heaven were they? Elitists, that’s what they are!
After twenty-seven days of this unfair lightning bolt abuse I was, by then, in Syria a bit North of
the Sea of Galilee. I didn’t know where I was at the time, of course.
I plunged into a river to escape or limit the bolts. I was so tired I thought I’d float and just sleep a
while even if they were bolting me incessantly. I was that tired!
I even thought if I was lucky I wouldn’t even wake up at all….
I did fall asleep.
I did wake up.
I was on the shore on the West side of the river. I… wasn’t a church any more. I was… a
Human? Still not completely sure if I am. Or what happened. Or where the Avenging Angels
went. Or if they’re coming back after reloading on lightning bolts.
Humans need names. Why? People always ask. Like, usually right away. Turned out that the
river I plunged into was the Jordan River. And, you know, I used to be a church. So, I tell people
to call me Jordan Church.
I’m sort of in hiding now, but I’m really not sure if you can hide from Avenging Angels or if I still
need to. Cultists would be more of a problem now though. I assume Molotov cocktails feel just
terrible on human skin!
I write erotica because, as a human, I now have bills to pay. I used to be a building and now I
have to pay to live in one! Oh, how I have fallen.
I chose erotica because it fascinates me. Hey, I’m only human!