Chains or rope?
That is the question.
Showing posts with label oral sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oral sex. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Master? Are You Home?
it's been a hard week for the philosopher and me. not relationships problems. but the weather. the heat. neither of us do well with heat. a redhead thing? who knows. we have so many thing in common that it is hard to assign causality to any one of our shared characteristics.
my master hasn't been sleeping well. he has no air conditioning. he is exhausted and drained. i do have AC, and am quite self-indulgent about it, but the heat and humidity outside seeps into my soul and pulls me down. i'm tired all day and then return to life in the evening - not bouncing but settling in, resisting bedtime for way too long and returning to the sunlit world way too early. i drag through the work day and the cycle starts all over again.
so i haven't been up for writing cute and sexy. or dark and sexy. i'm discouraged over the housemate search, and sad at the thought of anyone here with me other than the man who felt like he'd always been here from within 15 minutes of the moment he first appeared at my door. and then i remembered our archives, and my eye lit on this exchange from last April, dating 2-1/2 months into our epistolary courtship., when the weather was very different indeed from this last week. and as i read it over i started to smile inside.
i hope the memories make my heat-oppressed master smile.
and that you can smile along with us.
ps - Paul, in a comment, asked why i have to blog naked. the simple answer is that my master ordered me to. no other explanation is needed. but if you really want the whole story, you can find it here.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kitten stuck her head through the cat door and looked around cautiously. It wasn't a cat door, actually; more like an entryway designed for a full-sized Saint Bernard. She started to curse, thought better of it, and changed mid-epithet to a grumble. Sometimes that crazy Irishman of hers let his dry sense of humor get the better of him. Installing a cat door for her. Really! At least he was sensitive enough to put it in the back of the house, where her strange entrances and exits were less likely to be spied by a neighbor. Ah well, she shouldn't complain. Life with him was good, if a little unusual. He may have seemed insane at times, but then she was complicit by obeying his every demand. Willingly. They had created this madhouse together, and she was a happy inmate.
She hauled herself though the rest of the way, and stood up. It was dark downstairs, and she couldn't tell if he was home or not. She removed her coat and shoes, and wondered what to do about the rest of her clothes. She'd been punished the night before, in addition to being placed under one of his periodic NO TOUCHING, NO CUMMING orders, so she really didn't want to do anything to displease him, especially if the foul weather had put him in a foul mood. Did he want her naked or not? She decided to play it safe and keep her clothes on. This gave him the option of ordering her to strip for him or undressing her himself. She did decide to remove her socks and stockings, leaving the slave chain that gave her such pleasure and allowing her to approach him barefoot. Then she reached up to the hook by the door for the leather collar hanging there, and buckled it around her neck. She hated having anything around her neck, but she loved the collar, with the fine embossing in a Celtic knot design. She loved anything that signified her submission, that reminded her, and him, that she was his slave.
She just hoped he would be feeling generous towards her tonight.
No sign of life. Was he not home yet? or waiting for a false move so he could punish her? Uncertain what to do, she fell to her knees and crawled to the foot of the stairs.
"Master? Are you home?"
= = = = = = = = = = = =
He sees her, but she doesn't see him. . .so he enjoys the sight of her nervous grace, her restless placidity, as she boldly seeks out the source of her fear and her desire.
He smiles as she puts the collar on, and waits kneeling at the foot of the stairs, meowing pitifully, and looking expectantly up into the darkness. . .
He creeps up behind her, and says, in his most comforting voice. . .
"I'm home, kitten"
(I've had a helluva day. . .quite exhausted. . .but I want to play with my kitten!)
= = = = = = = = =
She jumps 3 feet in the air at hearing his voice unexpectedly behind her. Her heart goes into double time, but not just from being startled. His presence always does that to her. His presence, his voice, his touch... She feels the flames of desire flare up, the true burning in her cunt... they were always there when he was there, and even when he wasn't, but it was a pain she was happy to endure.
His voice sounded tender, with a slight wicked touch, since obviously he knew she would be startled. But she also heard weariness, and was glad that it seemed he still wanted to make time for her.
She was his slave, and would do whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, to please him. This was what she lived for.
= = = = = = = = = = =
He stares lasciviously at her. . .his wolfish gaze wandering eagerly and arrogantly over her body. . .
(What are you wearing, kitten?)
. . .and he looks contemptuously at her clothes. . .the clothes that will soon be nothing but tattered rags on the floor. . .
= = = = = = = = =
The weather was windy and nasty, and she had dressed for comfort and warmth, not for seduction. Comfortable blue jeans that did nothing for her ass. A sturdy cotton turtle neck in a bright fuchsia that reminded her of the fuchsia hedges on Ireland's Dingle Peninsula, and therefore of him. Her usual blue Polartek zip-up top. Her favorite enameled kitty earrings, that didn't reveal the cat face until you were close up.
He didn't seem impressed...
What he did seem was hungry, and she was to be the main course.
= = = = = = = = =
She did not dress for seduction. . .and that's why she was so seductive. Beneath those plain looking jeans and serviceable top. . .was a purring sex kitten, his very own slave. . .his precious minette. . .
He gestures to the blue zip-up. . .
his eyes speak the inevitable command. . .
Remove it. . .
(Is it cold, sexy? )
= = = = = = = = = =
She removes the Polartek top and shivers. Not just because of the chill whipped through the old windows by the wind, but because she knows this is just the beginning. She doesn't know exactly what route it will take from here, but she knows that wherever he takes her, she will obediently, willingly, happily, gratefully follow.
She looks into his eyes, silently asking
"Now what, Master?"
= = = = = = = = = =
"To the bedroom kitten."
"Now."
= = = = = = = = = =
She thrilled at the urgency in his voice, and hurried to obey. Her only doubt was whether to get up there faster by running up the stairs, or to maintain her attitude of submission and crawl.
She crawled, feeling his eyes boring though her jeans into her now very vulnerable ass as he walked up behind her.
= = = = = = = = = =
He loves it when she crawls. . . offering her ass to him. His kitten was so transparent sometimes.
Now that she is in her bedroom. . .and can snuggle in bed if she gets too cold. . .
He undoes her jeans. . .and roughly pulls them down her legs and off. . .
= = = = = = = = = =
She loves when he undresses her. She loves when he is rough. Of course, she also loves it when he's gentle, but she loves it when he's rough, because it betrays the near desperation of his desire. A passion that matches her own.
She collapses to the ground when he yanks off her jeans, knocked off her knees by his urgency. She tilts her head up towards him, as if to say:
"Here i am, Master. At your feet. i am your slave. my body belongs to you. Take what you need."
(8 inches of rain in Central Park?!)
= = = = = = = = =
When the jeans are off. . .and his kitten is at his feet, so desperately, and coquettishly looking up at him. . .he softens a bit. kneeling down he kisses her. . .right above her cunt. . .firmly, but gently. . .
His lips can feel the fluttering of her pulse. . .
He removes her top. . .and now she is wearing nothing but her bra and panties. . .
(was it that much! all i know is that it kept coming down.)
= = = = = = = =
She moans at the touch of his lips.
She moans when he takes off her turtleneck, feeling an extra frisson of excitement when he briefly traps her hands above her head before fully pulling the sweater off.
She feels his eyes on her, boring though her underwear, and the flood in her cunt threatens to rival the ones that swept away refrigerators in New Jersey.
= = = = = = = = = =
He doesn't hear her moans so much as feel them. . .throbbing deep within him. . .
He lifts her up in his arms. . .carries her over to the bed, and gently lays her down.
He kisses her. . .a gentle peck on the lips. . then the neck. . .then the shoulder. . .and runs his hands over the warm pink skin of her legs and belly.
Then he ties her up. . .spread eagle. . .stretched out. . .exposed. . .
And as she gasps and struggles he whispers in her ear:
"I haven't decided if i will let you cum tonight, kitten"
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
She gasps! He was being so sweet, so gentle, signaling perhaps a night of rich if vanilla lovemaking. Which was never boring, their non-kinky lovemaking: their vanilla used fresh full cream and real vanilla beans...
And then tying her up, which always triggered crazed shocks of desire careening up and down through her bound body. Oh she loved when he tied her up, whether or not it led to pain or pleasure, or the fuzzy boundary between them.
But not to let her cum? Again? After she had suffered so the night before?
Tears well up in her eyes. She looks up at him pleadingly.
She says nothing. She is his slave, but she struggles constantly with being fully submissive. She doesn't want to give him any reason to test her further. She just looks in his eyes, and awaits his next words. Or action...
= = = = = = = = = =
Her expression is impossible to read. . .is she disappointed? Frantic with desperate desire? Resigned to her fate?
Her emotions wage war against each other behind her eyes. . .
But she submits. . .just as she has been trained to do.
He strokes her cunt through her panties. . .
(You may actually touch yourself kitten. . .but through the panties!)
= = = = = = = = =
He seems to approve of her response, such as it is, because he starts stroking her cunt through her panties. She moans, then whimpers, as her eyes cloud over. A nagging voice in her mind warns her to hold back, to not sink into the pleasure of his touch, in case he is cruel enough to leave her stranded on top of the waterfall.
But it is too late. It was too late 2 months ago. Once he touches her, she is gone. Gone, and doomed to whatever he has planned next. Which she is anyway. Because he owns this body whose responses he manipulates like an orchestra conductor.
= = = = = = = = = = =
Seeing his success with her cunt. . .he turns his attention to her nipples. . .rubbing them through the bra. . .pinching the nipples. . .
Enjoying her moans. . .
(You may also touch your nipples, kitten)
= = = = = = = = = =
Oh, god! Had it only been two days since he had touched her? It felt like a month.
Small sharp cries issued from her throat as he pinched her nipples, interspersed with the moans. Her breath came faster, and her cunt muscles started squeezing and holding, as if clenching around his cock.
She knew she shouldn't cum without his express permission. She tried to think about other things to bring her down a bit. Were they running out of coffee? But it was hard going. Her brain kept cutting out. She was nothing but a bundle of nerve endings, and they all belonged to him.
"J---? Sweetheart? Master?!! Oh god..."
She wasn't cumming. but she felt awfully good...
= = = = = = = = = =
With a bit of fumbling, given that she was tied up, he managed to unhook her bra, freeing her breasts. . .
Taking her right nipple in his mouth he sucked on it. . .HARD.
He played with her breasts, fondling, squeezing, caressing, licking, sucking. . .
All the while repeating his question. . .
"Do you want to cum kitten?"
(Your bra should be off now)
= = = = = = = = = =
Yes, Master!
Please, Master!
I do so want to cum
I do so need to cum.
I beg you to let me cum.
But I know that I am your slave.
I accept that I am your slave.
You own me.
You own my body.
And I know i must submit to whatever you have planned for me,
be it torment or relief.
(It wouldn't be so hard to free my breasts, as most of my bras hook in the front.)
= = = = = = = = = =
I hook a finger under the waistband of your panties. . .and slide them down. . .pulling them as far as your spread legs will let me. . .and then ripping them off you. . .
You are naked now kitten. . .and not just in fantasy.
take off your panties. . .
= = = = = = = = =
she looks up at him with her passion-clouded eyes. she feels her nakedness, she feels her defenselessness, especially positioned as she is, spread open before him.
the violence with which he removed her last shred of protection both excited her and frightened her. she knows it signals overwhelming desire, but it also sometimes precedes cruelty.
but in the end, she doesn't care.
gentleness or cruelty, she doesn't care.
pain or pleasure, she doesn't care.
as long as he claims her as his own
as long as he shows that he treasures his slave
as long as he betrays the depth of his desire
she doesn't care what he does to her.
honey pools on the sheets.
she strains against the ropes and writhes.
the kitten is on the edge of becoming a wild beast.
and only one man can control her.
= = = = = = = = = =
Gentleness tonight, kitten. . .
I lick at your pussy with long, slow strokes, making my tongue flat and wide. . .then sharp and pointed to tickle your clit. . .
I drink your honey. . .I guzzle it down. . .and I explore your velvety warmth. . .
I can taste you kitten. . .sweet and wild and wicked. . .
Touch yourself kitten. . .stroke your pussy for me. . .
= = = = = = = = = =
i am, Master, my sweet gentle master.
i am.
but i don't feel my finger.
i feel only your tongue.
i worship your tongue...
= = = = = = = = = = =
Fuck yourself, kitten.
I want you to cum.
Now.
= = = = = = = = =
and she cums.
her body arches up.
she strains against the ropes.
her head goes back.
she stiffens, she cries out, she tosses her head
she cries, the tears flow
she sobs out all the pent up tension from the previous two days.
finally, she starts calming down.
she sinks into the pillow.
still bound, she looks up into the eyes of the one who owns her
and murmurs ever so quietly
"J---?"
and smiles
= = = = = = = = =
And he strokes her hair. . .and kisses her tears away. . .and holds her in his arms. . .
And whispers. . .
"my good little kitten."
= = = = = = = = = =
Which is just what she wants him to do.
And just what she wants to hear.
Life is very very good...
= = = = = = = = = =
To bed now kitten. . .it's late. . .your master is tired. . .and happy. . .
= = = = = = = = = = =
Yes . . . to sleep.
i'm glad you are happy.
sleep well.
and may the only flood that enters your mind be one of honey....
honey from your happy kitten's cunt. which is yours. all yours...
good night, sweet Master.
good night.
= = = = = = =
Good night, kitten.
my master hasn't been sleeping well. he has no air conditioning. he is exhausted and drained. i do have AC, and am quite self-indulgent about it, but the heat and humidity outside seeps into my soul and pulls me down. i'm tired all day and then return to life in the evening - not bouncing but settling in, resisting bedtime for way too long and returning to the sunlit world way too early. i drag through the work day and the cycle starts all over again.
so i haven't been up for writing cute and sexy. or dark and sexy. i'm discouraged over the housemate search, and sad at the thought of anyone here with me other than the man who felt like he'd always been here from within 15 minutes of the moment he first appeared at my door. and then i remembered our archives, and my eye lit on this exchange from last April, dating 2-1/2 months into our epistolary courtship., when the weather was very different indeed from this last week. and as i read it over i started to smile inside.
i hope the memories make my heat-oppressed master smile.
and that you can smile along with us.
ps - Paul, in a comment, asked why i have to blog naked. the simple answer is that my master ordered me to. no other explanation is needed. but if you really want the whole story, you can find it here.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kitten stuck her head through the cat door and looked around cautiously. It wasn't a cat door, actually; more like an entryway designed for a full-sized Saint Bernard. She started to curse, thought better of it, and changed mid-epithet to a grumble. Sometimes that crazy Irishman of hers let his dry sense of humor get the better of him. Installing a cat door for her. Really! At least he was sensitive enough to put it in the back of the house, where her strange entrances and exits were less likely to be spied by a neighbor. Ah well, she shouldn't complain. Life with him was good, if a little unusual. He may have seemed insane at times, but then she was complicit by obeying his every demand. Willingly. They had created this madhouse together, and she was a happy inmate.
She hauled herself though the rest of the way, and stood up. It was dark downstairs, and she couldn't tell if he was home or not. She removed her coat and shoes, and wondered what to do about the rest of her clothes. She'd been punished the night before, in addition to being placed under one of his periodic NO TOUCHING, NO CUMMING orders, so she really didn't want to do anything to displease him, especially if the foul weather had put him in a foul mood. Did he want her naked or not? She decided to play it safe and keep her clothes on. This gave him the option of ordering her to strip for him or undressing her himself. She did decide to remove her socks and stockings, leaving the slave chain that gave her such pleasure and allowing her to approach him barefoot. Then she reached up to the hook by the door for the leather collar hanging there, and buckled it around her neck. She hated having anything around her neck, but she loved the collar, with the fine embossing in a Celtic knot design. She loved anything that signified her submission, that reminded her, and him, that she was his slave.
She just hoped he would be feeling generous towards her tonight.
No sign of life. Was he not home yet? or waiting for a false move so he could punish her? Uncertain what to do, she fell to her knees and crawled to the foot of the stairs.
"Master? Are you home?"
= = = = = = = = = = = =
He sees her, but she doesn't see him. . .so he enjoys the sight of her nervous grace, her restless placidity, as she boldly seeks out the source of her fear and her desire.
He smiles as she puts the collar on, and waits kneeling at the foot of the stairs, meowing pitifully, and looking expectantly up into the darkness. . .
He creeps up behind her, and says, in his most comforting voice. . .
"I'm home, kitten"
(I've had a helluva day. . .quite exhausted. . .but I want to play with my kitten!)
= = = = = = = = =
She jumps 3 feet in the air at hearing his voice unexpectedly behind her. Her heart goes into double time, but not just from being startled. His presence always does that to her. His presence, his voice, his touch... She feels the flames of desire flare up, the true burning in her cunt... they were always there when he was there, and even when he wasn't, but it was a pain she was happy to endure.
His voice sounded tender, with a slight wicked touch, since obviously he knew she would be startled. But she also heard weariness, and was glad that it seemed he still wanted to make time for her.
She was his slave, and would do whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, to please him. This was what she lived for.
= = = = = = = = = = =
He stares lasciviously at her. . .his wolfish gaze wandering eagerly and arrogantly over her body. . .
(What are you wearing, kitten?)
. . .and he looks contemptuously at her clothes. . .the clothes that will soon be nothing but tattered rags on the floor. . .
= = = = = = = = =
The weather was windy and nasty, and she had dressed for comfort and warmth, not for seduction. Comfortable blue jeans that did nothing for her ass. A sturdy cotton turtle neck in a bright fuchsia that reminded her of the fuchsia hedges on Ireland's Dingle Peninsula, and therefore of him. Her usual blue Polartek zip-up top. Her favorite enameled kitty earrings, that didn't reveal the cat face until you were close up.
He didn't seem impressed...
What he did seem was hungry, and she was to be the main course.
= = = = = = = = =
She did not dress for seduction. . .and that's why she was so seductive. Beneath those plain looking jeans and serviceable top. . .was a purring sex kitten, his very own slave. . .his precious minette. . .
He gestures to the blue zip-up. . .
his eyes speak the inevitable command. . .
Remove it. . .
(Is it cold, sexy? )
= = = = = = = = = =
She removes the Polartek top and shivers. Not just because of the chill whipped through the old windows by the wind, but because she knows this is just the beginning. She doesn't know exactly what route it will take from here, but she knows that wherever he takes her, she will obediently, willingly, happily, gratefully follow.
She looks into his eyes, silently asking
"Now what, Master?"
= = = = = = = = = =
"To the bedroom kitten."
"Now."
= = = = = = = = = =
She thrilled at the urgency in his voice, and hurried to obey. Her only doubt was whether to get up there faster by running up the stairs, or to maintain her attitude of submission and crawl.
She crawled, feeling his eyes boring though her jeans into her now very vulnerable ass as he walked up behind her.
= = = = = = = = = =
He loves it when she crawls. . . offering her ass to him. His kitten was so transparent sometimes.
Now that she is in her bedroom. . .and can snuggle in bed if she gets too cold. . .
He undoes her jeans. . .and roughly pulls them down her legs and off. . .
= = = = = = = = = =
She loves when he undresses her. She loves when he is rough. Of course, she also loves it when he's gentle, but she loves it when he's rough, because it betrays the near desperation of his desire. A passion that matches her own.
She collapses to the ground when he yanks off her jeans, knocked off her knees by his urgency. She tilts her head up towards him, as if to say:
"Here i am, Master. At your feet. i am your slave. my body belongs to you. Take what you need."
(8 inches of rain in Central Park?!)
= = = = = = = = =
When the jeans are off. . .and his kitten is at his feet, so desperately, and coquettishly looking up at him. . .he softens a bit. kneeling down he kisses her. . .right above her cunt. . .firmly, but gently. . .
His lips can feel the fluttering of her pulse. . .
He removes her top. . .and now she is wearing nothing but her bra and panties. . .
(was it that much! all i know is that it kept coming down.)
= = = = = = = =
She moans at the touch of his lips.
She moans when he takes off her turtleneck, feeling an extra frisson of excitement when he briefly traps her hands above her head before fully pulling the sweater off.
She feels his eyes on her, boring though her underwear, and the flood in her cunt threatens to rival the ones that swept away refrigerators in New Jersey.
= = = = = = = = = =
He doesn't hear her moans so much as feel them. . .throbbing deep within him. . .
He lifts her up in his arms. . .carries her over to the bed, and gently lays her down.
He kisses her. . .a gentle peck on the lips. . then the neck. . .then the shoulder. . .and runs his hands over the warm pink skin of her legs and belly.
Then he ties her up. . .spread eagle. . .stretched out. . .exposed. . .
And as she gasps and struggles he whispers in her ear:
"I haven't decided if i will let you cum tonight, kitten"
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
She gasps! He was being so sweet, so gentle, signaling perhaps a night of rich if vanilla lovemaking. Which was never boring, their non-kinky lovemaking: their vanilla used fresh full cream and real vanilla beans...
And then tying her up, which always triggered crazed shocks of desire careening up and down through her bound body. Oh she loved when he tied her up, whether or not it led to pain or pleasure, or the fuzzy boundary between them.
But not to let her cum? Again? After she had suffered so the night before?
Tears well up in her eyes. She looks up at him pleadingly.
She says nothing. She is his slave, but she struggles constantly with being fully submissive. She doesn't want to give him any reason to test her further. She just looks in his eyes, and awaits his next words. Or action...
= = = = = = = = = =
Her expression is impossible to read. . .is she disappointed? Frantic with desperate desire? Resigned to her fate?
Her emotions wage war against each other behind her eyes. . .
But she submits. . .just as she has been trained to do.
He strokes her cunt through her panties. . .
(You may actually touch yourself kitten. . .but through the panties!)
= = = = = = = = =
He seems to approve of her response, such as it is, because he starts stroking her cunt through her panties. She moans, then whimpers, as her eyes cloud over. A nagging voice in her mind warns her to hold back, to not sink into the pleasure of his touch, in case he is cruel enough to leave her stranded on top of the waterfall.
But it is too late. It was too late 2 months ago. Once he touches her, she is gone. Gone, and doomed to whatever he has planned next. Which she is anyway. Because he owns this body whose responses he manipulates like an orchestra conductor.
= = = = = = = = = = =
Seeing his success with her cunt. . .he turns his attention to her nipples. . .rubbing them through the bra. . .pinching the nipples. . .
Enjoying her moans. . .
(You may also touch your nipples, kitten)
= = = = = = = = = =
Oh, god! Had it only been two days since he had touched her? It felt like a month.
Small sharp cries issued from her throat as he pinched her nipples, interspersed with the moans. Her breath came faster, and her cunt muscles started squeezing and holding, as if clenching around his cock.
She knew she shouldn't cum without his express permission. She tried to think about other things to bring her down a bit. Were they running out of coffee? But it was hard going. Her brain kept cutting out. She was nothing but a bundle of nerve endings, and they all belonged to him.
"J---? Sweetheart? Master?!! Oh god..."
She wasn't cumming. but she felt awfully good...
= = = = = = = = = =
With a bit of fumbling, given that she was tied up, he managed to unhook her bra, freeing her breasts. . .
Taking her right nipple in his mouth he sucked on it. . .HARD.
He played with her breasts, fondling, squeezing, caressing, licking, sucking. . .
All the while repeating his question. . .
"Do you want to cum kitten?"
(Your bra should be off now)
= = = = = = = = = =
Yes, Master!
Please, Master!
I do so want to cum
I do so need to cum.
I beg you to let me cum.
But I know that I am your slave.
I accept that I am your slave.
You own me.
You own my body.
And I know i must submit to whatever you have planned for me,
be it torment or relief.
(It wouldn't be so hard to free my breasts, as most of my bras hook in the front.)
= = = = = = = = = =
I hook a finger under the waistband of your panties. . .and slide them down. . .pulling them as far as your spread legs will let me. . .and then ripping them off you. . .
You are naked now kitten. . .and not just in fantasy.
take off your panties. . .
= = = = = = = = =
she looks up at him with her passion-clouded eyes. she feels her nakedness, she feels her defenselessness, especially positioned as she is, spread open before him.
the violence with which he removed her last shred of protection both excited her and frightened her. she knows it signals overwhelming desire, but it also sometimes precedes cruelty.
but in the end, she doesn't care.
gentleness or cruelty, she doesn't care.
pain or pleasure, she doesn't care.
as long as he claims her as his own
as long as he shows that he treasures his slave
as long as he betrays the depth of his desire
she doesn't care what he does to her.
honey pools on the sheets.
she strains against the ropes and writhes.
the kitten is on the edge of becoming a wild beast.
and only one man can control her.
= = = = = = = = = =
Gentleness tonight, kitten. . .
I lick at your pussy with long, slow strokes, making my tongue flat and wide. . .then sharp and pointed to tickle your clit. . .
I drink your honey. . .I guzzle it down. . .and I explore your velvety warmth. . .
I can taste you kitten. . .sweet and wild and wicked. . .
Touch yourself kitten. . .stroke your pussy for me. . .
= = = = = = = = = =
i am, Master, my sweet gentle master.
i am.
but i don't feel my finger.
i feel only your tongue.
i worship your tongue...
= = = = = = = = = = =
Fuck yourself, kitten.
I want you to cum.
Now.
= = = = = = = = =
and she cums.
her body arches up.
she strains against the ropes.
her head goes back.
she stiffens, she cries out, she tosses her head
she cries, the tears flow
she sobs out all the pent up tension from the previous two days.
finally, she starts calming down.
she sinks into the pillow.
still bound, she looks up into the eyes of the one who owns her
and murmurs ever so quietly
"J---?"
and smiles
= = = = = = = = =
And he strokes her hair. . .and kisses her tears away. . .and holds her in his arms. . .
And whispers. . .
"my good little kitten."
= = = = = = = = = =
Which is just what she wants him to do.
And just what she wants to hear.
Life is very very good...
= = = = = = = = = =
To bed now kitten. . .it's late. . .your master is tired. . .and happy. . .
= = = = = = = = = = =
Yes . . . to sleep.
i'm glad you are happy.
sleep well.
and may the only flood that enters your mind be one of honey....
honey from your happy kitten's cunt. which is yours. all yours...
good night, sweet Master.
good night.
= = = = = = =
Good night, kitten.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Reunion
Tomorrow.
He’s coming home tomorrow.
OK, I use that term loosely. Home. I have no right to use that term. Still. When we are together, home is here. Or perhaps more accurately, when we have been together, it has been here. Mostly. Anyway, he hasn’t protested to my using the term. So far.
Right.
I’m nervous.
I didn’t even really have to say that, right?
I’m stammering and babbling and nervous.
It’s been 4-1/2 months. And except for when he was having that hard time in February, we’ve been talking to each other twice a day on weekdays. Usually. Mostly. So far.
We haven’t seen each other for almost 4-1/2 months. And then we were at a friend’s house, with only a late afternoon and evening alone. And he was already slipping into winter mode. Although we do have a nice picture or two of me giving head to a cucumber…
I’m feeling nervous.
And shy.
We are so close.
So comfortable.
And yet…
When he came down here for the first time, when we met face to face for the first time, I was feeling shy, even though I had been baring my perverted soul to him for months. And yet, within fifteen minutes or so everything was fine. So this time everything will be fine. Really. O f course it will.I’ll pick him up at the bus station, in my man’s white dress shirt. My slave shirt. I’ll be wearing my slave shirt and nothing else.
Well… not quite. He doesn’t want me getting arrested. So we’re compromising on the shirt and very short shorts. No underwear. Although who knows, he could change the order at the last minute. He likes to keep me off kilter.
There’s a box coming in the mail. It probably won’t arrive until after he does, but if it were to beat him here, I am not to open it. He’s done that before. The first box had the cane. The second box had my beautiful Go Blue vibrator. And this time? I can guess. But you never know…
He has brought me presents, too. The best of presents. The slave shirt, that first visit. Brand new and beautiful, glowing white, still in its package with the cardboard and the pins. He brought beautiful hemp ropes. And a tea set, he bought me the most perfect little tea set, and an assortment of teas, and lectured me on the proper way to brew them. And I bought a pretty little white half-apron, and nipple bells with a chain running between them. We amuse each other.
And in some ways the best gift of all? On that very first trip, two little sachets of catnip. One for each beast, so they wouldn’t be jealous. You see why he is more than just a perverted playmate?
I know it will be fine. I’ll bury my shy face in his chest, he’ll twine his fingers in my growing unruly hair, he’ll take me over his knee and spank me for how messy the house is, we’ll snuggle on the couch, we’ll snuggle in the bed…
I’ll draw the curtain on the rest. Even in BDSM, even for a sex blogger, there must occasionally be some privacy.
We’ll be fine.
But still.
I’m feeling very shy…
He’s coming home tomorrow.
OK, I use that term loosely. Home. I have no right to use that term. Still. When we are together, home is here. Or perhaps more accurately, when we have been together, it has been here. Mostly. Anyway, he hasn’t protested to my using the term. So far.
Right.
I’m nervous.
I didn’t even really have to say that, right?
I’m stammering and babbling and nervous.
It’s been 4-1/2 months. And except for when he was having that hard time in February, we’ve been talking to each other twice a day on weekdays. Usually. Mostly. So far.
We haven’t seen each other for almost 4-1/2 months. And then we were at a friend’s house, with only a late afternoon and evening alone. And he was already slipping into winter mode. Although we do have a nice picture or two of me giving head to a cucumber…
I’m feeling nervous.
And shy.
We are so close.
So comfortable.
And yet…
When he came down here for the first time, when we met face to face for the first time, I was feeling shy, even though I had been baring my perverted soul to him for months. And yet, within fifteen minutes or so everything was fine. So this time everything will be fine. Really. O f course it will.I’ll pick him up at the bus station, in my man’s white dress shirt. My slave shirt. I’ll be wearing my slave shirt and nothing else.
Well… not quite. He doesn’t want me getting arrested. So we’re compromising on the shirt and very short shorts. No underwear. Although who knows, he could change the order at the last minute. He likes to keep me off kilter.
There’s a box coming in the mail. It probably won’t arrive until after he does, but if it were to beat him here, I am not to open it. He’s done that before. The first box had the cane. The second box had my beautiful Go Blue vibrator. And this time? I can guess. But you never know…
He has brought me presents, too. The best of presents. The slave shirt, that first visit. Brand new and beautiful, glowing white, still in its package with the cardboard and the pins. He brought beautiful hemp ropes. And a tea set, he bought me the most perfect little tea set, and an assortment of teas, and lectured me on the proper way to brew them. And I bought a pretty little white half-apron, and nipple bells with a chain running between them. We amuse each other.
And in some ways the best gift of all? On that very first trip, two little sachets of catnip. One for each beast, so they wouldn’t be jealous. You see why he is more than just a perverted playmate?
I know it will be fine. I’ll bury my shy face in his chest, he’ll twine his fingers in my growing unruly hair, he’ll take me over his knee and spank me for how messy the house is, we’ll snuggle on the couch, we’ll snuggle in the bed…
I’ll draw the curtain on the rest. Even in BDSM, even for a sex blogger, there must occasionally be some privacy.
We’ll be fine.
But still.
I’m feeling very shy…
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Luscious
Another from the archives of our epistolary courtship. This one I started. And this time I'm leaving in the little side comments that slipped into the story-telling at the end.
There is actually a photo that goes with, but I'm not assuming that the philosopher is willing to share it. He really is very possessive...
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Another tiring day, another tiring commute. Wearily he unlocked the door, grateful to be home, looking forward to the sight of a naked and submissive kitten kneeling by the door in her slave chain and leather collar.
No kitten.
His irritation flared up. Where was that pet of his? He thought he'd been making progress in her training, overcoming her fits of cursing, her independent impulses, her resistance to obedience. He hoped he wouldn't have to punish her again, although the twitch his cock gave at the thought reminded him that it could be enjoyable sometimes. At least for him.
He called out for her, in a not totally friendly manner. "Kitten?!"
No answer.
Then he noticed a little parade of tea candles leading though the living room. Intrigued, he put down his things, took off his coat, and followed the trail, which was certainly more effective than breadcrumbs. When they brought him into the dining room, he stopped in his tracks.
The dining room table was opened to its full length, which seated eight. It was covered with a rich blue table cloth. And on it lay his missing slave. He noted that the blue was a good color for her.
He also noted that she was naked, so at least she was doing something right.
But what he noticed most of all were the fresh strawberries. They started between her breasts, and continued down her belly to her cunt. Her hands were clasped behind her head, and there was a mound of berries on the table at each armpit. Her legs were spread wide; she had managed on her own to tie them to the table legs. Between her thighs was a bowl of whipped cream. Flowers were tucked into the links of her chain.
She was naughty, but she was creative, and certainly irrepressible. As his cock hardened, he sighed and said softly:
"What in the world am I going to do with you?"
= = = = = = = = = = =
He was struck by the odd combination of independence and slavery. . . she had broken orders, to find a bold new way to submit to him.
Such a puzzle, his little kitten. . .like a knot that can't be untied no matter how hard you tug at it. . .or a labyrinth, that will swallow all attempts to navigate it.
His kitten was a mystery. . . and at the same time. . .
She was completely open. . . literally. . . her body exposed and available to his every whim. . .
His philosophical mind pondered the logical problem before him. . . but only for a moment before the wolf's hunger deep within distracted him. . .
Called him to feast. . .
He approached his slave. . . and wondered aloud:
"Where shall I start?"
= = = = = = = = = = = =
She had been looking up into his face the whole time he stood over her. She knew him so well, it was as if she could see his thoughts displayed like opera supertitles across his forehead. And she knew. She knew that when it came down to it, the hungry wolf always won over the strict disciplinarian slave Master. At least she thought she knew. She was counting on it...
He was standing right over her now, his eyes passing up and down her body. He plucked a particularly large strawberry from under her right armpit, dipped the tip in the whipped cream, and held it in front of her face.
"Open your mouth," he said sternly.
Surprised, she obeyed. He inserted the large red berry halfway through her lips and stopped.
"Close your lips. Bite down just enough to hold it in place. Don't suck on the cream. Hold the berry there and don't make a sound."
Now she looked alarmed. She also looked ridiculous with the makeshift gag. He knew that soon saliva and cream would start dripping out the sides of her mouth. He wouldn't leave her that way long. After all, she had meant well. But he did need to remind her who was in charge.
He scooped up a healthy glob of whipped cream with his finger and spread it on her right breast. Then he started to suck . . .
= = = = = = = = =
She wanted to cry out. . .to beg for more. . .but with the strawberry delicately perched between her lips all she could manage was a strangled moan.
Like an animal.
He concentrated on his task. . .licking and sucking her breasts. . .the breasts he loved so much, with their sensitive, expressive nipples.
After licking every last drop of cream from the right breast, he repeated the procedure on the left. By the time he was done, his little kitten had drooled much of the cream away; her face was a mess of saliva cream, and the tears that streaked her cheeks.
"Don't bite, kitten. . .I'm not done." He said scooping up more cream, and scribbling a path with the tip of his finger across her belly and down towards her cunt.
"WHIPPED cream, kitten. . .just the thing for a Dom! How clever you are. . . too clever perhaps. . ."
And then his tongue was busy lapping up the trail of cream. . .
He was patient, taking his time, not rushing to reach the end of his journey down her body. . .
From the moans that escaped past the strawberry. . .he could tell that his kitten was not quite so patient.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
Her mouth was so full of saliva and cream, she was afraid she would choke. She should have thought of a pillow when she had her clever idea. Damn. Somehow he always managed to get the best of her.
His tongue was doing what it always did. Making her crazy. She couldn't help herself. She started to writhe, even tho it dislodged the display of strawberries she had worked so hard to create. And while she had started out with her hands clasped submissively behind her neck, now they too joined in her body's attempts to express what her mouth could not.
He was getting closer and closer to what was now becoming an effluence of honey. She almost held her breath.
Then he stopped licking. He selected another strawberry, from just above her bush of red curls so like his own. He dipped it in the cream. And then he brought it to her strawberry colored clit. And stroked it.
She let out a loud cry, jerked her head back, and bit through the strawberry gag. A small piece remained in her mouth while the larger part fell onto her chest.
(I do have some very large strawberries here, and tested out the biggest one to see how it would be positioned in my mouth. Quite an effective gag, but definitely an ungraceful sight.)
= = = = = = = = = = =
"Naughty kitten! I said don't bite!" He could not conceal his amusement at her writhing and moaning. He continued stroking her clit with the strawberry. . .until it was as red and swollen and juicy as the fruit itself. . .and covered in her own honey.
He grabbed her flailing hands, the hands that were trying to grab his head and direct his tongue to her sweet center. . .but she would not set the pace here. He tied them together, and then stretching them over her head, bound them to the table.
He then went back to her cunt. . .teasing her with the strawberry, and flicking it with his tongue.
"So ripe. . .so juicy, kitten. . .such a sweet dessert you are."
Her squirming had caused her to crush many of the berries that she had so carefully arranged, and her legs and sides, and her ass, had become covered in a mixture of whipped cream and pulped strawberry. This he smeared over her front as well: her breast, her legs, her belly. . . her face. . . all smeared with the sweet paste.
"You look delicious, minette. . .absolutely scrumptious. . ."
And then he kissed her. . .hard. . .right on her throbbing pussy. . .
= = = = = = = = = = = =
(Oh god, it IS throbbing, too... i'm not sure if i can think straight much longer... )
ohhh. she moaned from so deep within her that her toes vibrated. And she kept on moaning. she strained against the ropes and she moaned. She tossed her head from sighed to side and she moaned. her pelvis jerked back and forth and she moaned, until finally he had to hold her down at her hips to keep her from hurting him.
"Hold still, kitten, or I'll have to get another rope."
but he knew she'd never hold still, so he fetched another rope and passed it a few times around her and under the table, so that it held her just above her nest of red curls.
"That's better," he said, satisfied. Then he selected a small berry, loaded it up with cream, reached under her, and eased it into her ass before returning his attention to her pussy.
While kitten kept on moaning.
= = = = = = = = = = = =
(What are you wearing? Take it off.)
Her mouth and ass now full. . .he turned to her final crevice.
As she whimpered and moaned, and squirmed and writhed, he thrust his tongue. . .slowly, deliberately. . .as deep as he could. . .flicking the tip of it all the while.
He fucked her this way for the better part of an hour. . .pulling out for a moment, only to push in even deeper. . .and the taste of the strawberry and the cream, mixed with her own natural sweetness only served to inflame his hunger. . .
He feasted like a starving animal.
= = = = = = = = = =
(My my, do i detect a trace of huskiness in your voice? is my Master getting turned on just a little? What happened to all that Domly self-control? :-)
(As to what I WAS wearing... the same loose-fitting jeans as yesterday, tho a little looser after another day's wear, and a little wetter in the crotch... ok a lot wetter... light-weight black cotton turtle neck t-shirt, etc etc, of which now only the slave bracelet is left. I do love wearing my slave bracelet, Master.)
She had no idea how long he had been fucking her with his tongue. She had no idea of anything any more. She was a moaning, crying, writhing creature, nothing but animal passions, nothing but body, his slave not because he commanded her, not because he bound her, not because he spanked her, not even because she wanted to be. She was beyond wanting, beyond knowing, she was a slave to his tongue and would do anything he wanted if he promised never to stop.
Except that she didn't know how much more she could stand.
And finally, he didn't know how much he could stand, either.
Quickly, he untied her from the table, tho keeping her hands bound. He loved seeing her hands bound. He wrapped the strawberry-cream coated table cloth around her shaking body, gathered her up in his arms, and lowered the whole writing bundle to the ground. Quickly, he spread out the table cloth. Quickly, he pushed her legs apart. Quickly, standing over her, he unbuckled his belt.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
( A bit of huskiness, perhaps. . . but I assure I am still in complete control, my saucy little kitten. . .)
He stood over his slave, and the sight of her naked body, smeared and sticky, drove him wild. He unbuttoned his pants, freeing his erection.
He hesitated a moment, mulling his options. Then a wicked grin crossed his face.
"You've swallowed the strawberry. . .AGAINST MY ORDERS. . .kitten. Perhaps there is something else you would prefer to have in your mouth.
She understands, and moving awkwardly, her hands being tied, and her body slick with strawberry jam, she struggles to her knees. . .parts her lips. . .and takes his cock into her hungry mouth. . .
= = = = = = = = = = =
Now her moans changed to whimpers. She loved having him in her mouth. She SO loved having him in her mouth. When they were apart she'd wake up in the middle of the night and feel the ghost of his cock in her mouth. her lips remembered just how wide it was, her tongue could never forget its sweet taste. And oh, how lovely it was, the feel of his soft skin moving over his hard shaft. God, she adored his cock.
She loved to make him moan. She loved feeling him grow in her mouth. She loved the first drop of precum, the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. But it was always hard doing the job right when her hands were tied behind her back. She moved her mouth back and forth over his glorious erection, she licked, she nibbled, but it still wasn't her best performance. Usually she cupped his balls in her hand, or sucked them into her mouth while caressing his cock with her fingers. Or ran a circle of fingers up and down the base while concentrating her lips and tongue on the top. So much she loved to do for him. But without her hands . . .
Finally he took pity on her frustration. Or, more likely, came to the aid of his own. Taking her head in his hands, he steadied it and started fucking her mouth. Not too violently - he knew she had a terrible fear of choking and an active gag reflex - but enough to make it clear that he was in charge and her mouth was his to use. She surrendered willingly, happily, going into the trance that always overcame her when she gave him head. She was nothing. She was nothing but a source of pleasure for him. She was a mouth and tongue and teeth, she was his sex slave, his kitten, she was anything he wanted her to be.
And that's all she needed.
= = = = = = = = = = =
He gently controlled her head . . . rocking it back and forth . . . enjoying the sensation of her lips and tongue sliding back and forth over the shaft. . .
Soon he was ready to cum. . .his hips were bucking wildly, and his breath was coming heavy and ragged. . .
Just before he exploded, he roared with pleasure and pulled out of her mouth, sending a river of cum roaring down her chin, to mix with the the sweet sticky coating that was already there. he leaned against her shoulders to steady himself. . .his legs suddenly feeling weak. . .
When his sanity had returned. he knelt down before her, cradled her head in his hands, and looked her deep in the eyes. . .whispering. . .
"Would you like to cum now, kitten?"
(Would you?)
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
Feeling him cum like that, hearing him cum like that, it was almost as if she were cumming herself. She felt such joy at the pleasure she'd brought him that tears burst forth. She wished her hands were free to rub into her body the cum cream with which he'd anointed her. Rub it in with the strawberry puree, with the whipped cream, with her sweat, with her tears, with honey scooped from her cunt, to create the most magical of desserts out of their passion for each other.
Oh right, her cunt. There had been a question in there, right?
"Yes, Master, i would very much like to cum if there is nothing else you'd like me to do for you..."
= = = = = = = = = = =
Then cum for me kitten.
= = = = = = = = = = = =
And she did.
(You do know that I'm always very obedient and don't touch myself during the story until you say i can or tell me to cum. you do know that, right? i really am obedient.)
She collapsed down onto the smeared table cloth. He knelt down beside her, gathered her into his arms, and held her and rocked her. And she was content.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
(Your obedience is unquestioned, my naked, submissive little kitten.)
The shrieks and gasps as she came were like music. . .and he smiled as her muscles tensed and her limbs contorted when the orgasm crashed over her like a wave.
And her face. . .at the very peak of ecstasy, it was like a mask slid off her face to reveal the wild animal beneath.
This was his kitten, his slave, his pagan goddess. . .and when it was over, he gathered her limp body in his arms and rocked her.
Soon he would lead her to a warm bath and scrub her clean. . .but for now, she was his kitten and there was only this moment to be lost in. . .
= = = = = = = = = = =
mmm...
you're so far away
and you make me feel so good
(a totally inadequate description. . .)
i do feel as if you are holding me
you ARE holding me . . .
= = = = = = = = =
And now, my naked sex slave, I am lifting you up and carrying you off to bed. . .but alas, only to sleep.
It's late, kitten. . .I have to get up early tomorrow. . .
So to bed, and dream of strawberries. . .and cream. . .
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
oh, Master, i'm so sorry. i kept you up past your bedtime!
thank you for a lovely evening - i'm always so polite …
and yes, dear Master, i'll dream of strawberries …
and of cream…
and of you.
good night, Master, from your devoted slave-kitten.
= = = = = = = = = = =
Sweet dreams, sexy.
= = = = = = = = = = =
Tuesday, 17 April 2007
There is actually a photo that goes with, but I'm not assuming that the philosopher is willing to share it. He really is very possessive...
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Another tiring day, another tiring commute. Wearily he unlocked the door, grateful to be home, looking forward to the sight of a naked and submissive kitten kneeling by the door in her slave chain and leather collar.
No kitten.
His irritation flared up. Where was that pet of his? He thought he'd been making progress in her training, overcoming her fits of cursing, her independent impulses, her resistance to obedience. He hoped he wouldn't have to punish her again, although the twitch his cock gave at the thought reminded him that it could be enjoyable sometimes. At least for him.
He called out for her, in a not totally friendly manner. "Kitten?!"
No answer.
Then he noticed a little parade of tea candles leading though the living room. Intrigued, he put down his things, took off his coat, and followed the trail, which was certainly more effective than breadcrumbs. When they brought him into the dining room, he stopped in his tracks.
The dining room table was opened to its full length, which seated eight. It was covered with a rich blue table cloth. And on it lay his missing slave. He noted that the blue was a good color for her.
He also noted that she was naked, so at least she was doing something right.
But what he noticed most of all were the fresh strawberries. They started between her breasts, and continued down her belly to her cunt. Her hands were clasped behind her head, and there was a mound of berries on the table at each armpit. Her legs were spread wide; she had managed on her own to tie them to the table legs. Between her thighs was a bowl of whipped cream. Flowers were tucked into the links of her chain.
She was naughty, but she was creative, and certainly irrepressible. As his cock hardened, he sighed and said softly:
"What in the world am I going to do with you?"
= = = = = = = = = = =
He was struck by the odd combination of independence and slavery. . . she had broken orders, to find a bold new way to submit to him.
Such a puzzle, his little kitten. . .like a knot that can't be untied no matter how hard you tug at it. . .or a labyrinth, that will swallow all attempts to navigate it.
His kitten was a mystery. . . and at the same time. . .
She was completely open. . . literally. . . her body exposed and available to his every whim. . .
His philosophical mind pondered the logical problem before him. . . but only for a moment before the wolf's hunger deep within distracted him. . .
Called him to feast. . .
He approached his slave. . . and wondered aloud:
"Where shall I start?"
= = = = = = = = = = = =
She had been looking up into his face the whole time he stood over her. She knew him so well, it was as if she could see his thoughts displayed like opera supertitles across his forehead. And she knew. She knew that when it came down to it, the hungry wolf always won over the strict disciplinarian slave Master. At least she thought she knew. She was counting on it...
He was standing right over her now, his eyes passing up and down her body. He plucked a particularly large strawberry from under her right armpit, dipped the tip in the whipped cream, and held it in front of her face.
"Open your mouth," he said sternly.
Surprised, she obeyed. He inserted the large red berry halfway through her lips and stopped.
"Close your lips. Bite down just enough to hold it in place. Don't suck on the cream. Hold the berry there and don't make a sound."
Now she looked alarmed. She also looked ridiculous with the makeshift gag. He knew that soon saliva and cream would start dripping out the sides of her mouth. He wouldn't leave her that way long. After all, she had meant well. But he did need to remind her who was in charge.
He scooped up a healthy glob of whipped cream with his finger and spread it on her right breast. Then he started to suck . . .
= = = = = = = = =
She wanted to cry out. . .to beg for more. . .but with the strawberry delicately perched between her lips all she could manage was a strangled moan.
Like an animal.
He concentrated on his task. . .licking and sucking her breasts. . .the breasts he loved so much, with their sensitive, expressive nipples.
After licking every last drop of cream from the right breast, he repeated the procedure on the left. By the time he was done, his little kitten had drooled much of the cream away; her face was a mess of saliva cream, and the tears that streaked her cheeks.
"Don't bite, kitten. . .I'm not done." He said scooping up more cream, and scribbling a path with the tip of his finger across her belly and down towards her cunt.
"WHIPPED cream, kitten. . .just the thing for a Dom! How clever you are. . . too clever perhaps. . ."
And then his tongue was busy lapping up the trail of cream. . .
He was patient, taking his time, not rushing to reach the end of his journey down her body. . .
From the moans that escaped past the strawberry. . .he could tell that his kitten was not quite so patient.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
Her mouth was so full of saliva and cream, she was afraid she would choke. She should have thought of a pillow when she had her clever idea. Damn. Somehow he always managed to get the best of her.
His tongue was doing what it always did. Making her crazy. She couldn't help herself. She started to writhe, even tho it dislodged the display of strawberries she had worked so hard to create. And while she had started out with her hands clasped submissively behind her neck, now they too joined in her body's attempts to express what her mouth could not.
He was getting closer and closer to what was now becoming an effluence of honey. She almost held her breath.
Then he stopped licking. He selected another strawberry, from just above her bush of red curls so like his own. He dipped it in the cream. And then he brought it to her strawberry colored clit. And stroked it.
She let out a loud cry, jerked her head back, and bit through the strawberry gag. A small piece remained in her mouth while the larger part fell onto her chest.
(I do have some very large strawberries here, and tested out the biggest one to see how it would be positioned in my mouth. Quite an effective gag, but definitely an ungraceful sight.)
= = = = = = = = = = =
"Naughty kitten! I said don't bite!" He could not conceal his amusement at her writhing and moaning. He continued stroking her clit with the strawberry. . .until it was as red and swollen and juicy as the fruit itself. . .and covered in her own honey.
He grabbed her flailing hands, the hands that were trying to grab his head and direct his tongue to her sweet center. . .but she would not set the pace here. He tied them together, and then stretching them over her head, bound them to the table.
He then went back to her cunt. . .teasing her with the strawberry, and flicking it with his tongue.
"So ripe. . .so juicy, kitten. . .such a sweet dessert you are."
Her squirming had caused her to crush many of the berries that she had so carefully arranged, and her legs and sides, and her ass, had become covered in a mixture of whipped cream and pulped strawberry. This he smeared over her front as well: her breast, her legs, her belly. . . her face. . . all smeared with the sweet paste.
"You look delicious, minette. . .absolutely scrumptious. . ."
And then he kissed her. . .hard. . .right on her throbbing pussy. . .
= = = = = = = = = = = =
(Oh god, it IS throbbing, too... i'm not sure if i can think straight much longer... )
ohhh. she moaned from so deep within her that her toes vibrated. And she kept on moaning. she strained against the ropes and she moaned. She tossed her head from sighed to side and she moaned. her pelvis jerked back and forth and she moaned, until finally he had to hold her down at her hips to keep her from hurting him.
"Hold still, kitten, or I'll have to get another rope."
but he knew she'd never hold still, so he fetched another rope and passed it a few times around her and under the table, so that it held her just above her nest of red curls.
"That's better," he said, satisfied. Then he selected a small berry, loaded it up with cream, reached under her, and eased it into her ass before returning his attention to her pussy.
While kitten kept on moaning.
= = = = = = = = = = = =
(What are you wearing? Take it off.)
Her mouth and ass now full. . .he turned to her final crevice.
As she whimpered and moaned, and squirmed and writhed, he thrust his tongue. . .slowly, deliberately. . .as deep as he could. . .flicking the tip of it all the while.
He fucked her this way for the better part of an hour. . .pulling out for a moment, only to push in even deeper. . .and the taste of the strawberry and the cream, mixed with her own natural sweetness only served to inflame his hunger. . .
He feasted like a starving animal.
= = = = = = = = = =
(My my, do i detect a trace of huskiness in your voice? is my Master getting turned on just a little? What happened to all that Domly self-control? :-)
(As to what I WAS wearing... the same loose-fitting jeans as yesterday, tho a little looser after another day's wear, and a little wetter in the crotch... ok a lot wetter... light-weight black cotton turtle neck t-shirt, etc etc, of which now only the slave bracelet is left. I do love wearing my slave bracelet, Master.)
She had no idea how long he had been fucking her with his tongue. She had no idea of anything any more. She was a moaning, crying, writhing creature, nothing but animal passions, nothing but body, his slave not because he commanded her, not because he bound her, not because he spanked her, not even because she wanted to be. She was beyond wanting, beyond knowing, she was a slave to his tongue and would do anything he wanted if he promised never to stop.
Except that she didn't know how much more she could stand.
And finally, he didn't know how much he could stand, either.
Quickly, he untied her from the table, tho keeping her hands bound. He loved seeing her hands bound. He wrapped the strawberry-cream coated table cloth around her shaking body, gathered her up in his arms, and lowered the whole writing bundle to the ground. Quickly, he spread out the table cloth. Quickly, he pushed her legs apart. Quickly, standing over her, he unbuckled his belt.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
( A bit of huskiness, perhaps. . . but I assure I am still in complete control, my saucy little kitten. . .)
He stood over his slave, and the sight of her naked body, smeared and sticky, drove him wild. He unbuttoned his pants, freeing his erection.
He hesitated a moment, mulling his options. Then a wicked grin crossed his face.
"You've swallowed the strawberry. . .AGAINST MY ORDERS. . .kitten. Perhaps there is something else you would prefer to have in your mouth.
She understands, and moving awkwardly, her hands being tied, and her body slick with strawberry jam, she struggles to her knees. . .parts her lips. . .and takes his cock into her hungry mouth. . .
= = = = = = = = = = =
Now her moans changed to whimpers. She loved having him in her mouth. She SO loved having him in her mouth. When they were apart she'd wake up in the middle of the night and feel the ghost of his cock in her mouth. her lips remembered just how wide it was, her tongue could never forget its sweet taste. And oh, how lovely it was, the feel of his soft skin moving over his hard shaft. God, she adored his cock.
She loved to make him moan. She loved feeling him grow in her mouth. She loved the first drop of precum, the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. But it was always hard doing the job right when her hands were tied behind her back. She moved her mouth back and forth over his glorious erection, she licked, she nibbled, but it still wasn't her best performance. Usually she cupped his balls in her hand, or sucked them into her mouth while caressing his cock with her fingers. Or ran a circle of fingers up and down the base while concentrating her lips and tongue on the top. So much she loved to do for him. But without her hands . . .
Finally he took pity on her frustration. Or, more likely, came to the aid of his own. Taking her head in his hands, he steadied it and started fucking her mouth. Not too violently - he knew she had a terrible fear of choking and an active gag reflex - but enough to make it clear that he was in charge and her mouth was his to use. She surrendered willingly, happily, going into the trance that always overcame her when she gave him head. She was nothing. She was nothing but a source of pleasure for him. She was a mouth and tongue and teeth, she was his sex slave, his kitten, she was anything he wanted her to be.
And that's all she needed.
= = = = = = = = = = =
He gently controlled her head . . . rocking it back and forth . . . enjoying the sensation of her lips and tongue sliding back and forth over the shaft. . .
Soon he was ready to cum. . .his hips were bucking wildly, and his breath was coming heavy and ragged. . .
Just before he exploded, he roared with pleasure and pulled out of her mouth, sending a river of cum roaring down her chin, to mix with the the sweet sticky coating that was already there. he leaned against her shoulders to steady himself. . .his legs suddenly feeling weak. . .
When his sanity had returned. he knelt down before her, cradled her head in his hands, and looked her deep in the eyes. . .whispering. . .
"Would you like to cum now, kitten?"
(Would you?)
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
Feeling him cum like that, hearing him cum like that, it was almost as if she were cumming herself. She felt such joy at the pleasure she'd brought him that tears burst forth. She wished her hands were free to rub into her body the cum cream with which he'd anointed her. Rub it in with the strawberry puree, with the whipped cream, with her sweat, with her tears, with honey scooped from her cunt, to create the most magical of desserts out of their passion for each other.
Oh right, her cunt. There had been a question in there, right?
"Yes, Master, i would very much like to cum if there is nothing else you'd like me to do for you..."
= = = = = = = = = = =
Then cum for me kitten.
= = = = = = = = = = = =
And she did.
(You do know that I'm always very obedient and don't touch myself during the story until you say i can or tell me to cum. you do know that, right? i really am obedient.)
She collapsed down onto the smeared table cloth. He knelt down beside her, gathered her into his arms, and held her and rocked her. And she was content.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
(Your obedience is unquestioned, my naked, submissive little kitten.)
The shrieks and gasps as she came were like music. . .and he smiled as her muscles tensed and her limbs contorted when the orgasm crashed over her like a wave.
And her face. . .at the very peak of ecstasy, it was like a mask slid off her face to reveal the wild animal beneath.
This was his kitten, his slave, his pagan goddess. . .and when it was over, he gathered her limp body in his arms and rocked her.
Soon he would lead her to a warm bath and scrub her clean. . .but for now, she was his kitten and there was only this moment to be lost in. . .
= = = = = = = = = = =
mmm...
you're so far away
and you make me feel so good
(a totally inadequate description. . .)
i do feel as if you are holding me
you ARE holding me . . .
= = = = = = = = =
And now, my naked sex slave, I am lifting you up and carrying you off to bed. . .but alas, only to sleep.
It's late, kitten. . .I have to get up early tomorrow. . .
So to bed, and dream of strawberries. . .and cream. . .
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
oh, Master, i'm so sorry. i kept you up past your bedtime!
thank you for a lovely evening - i'm always so polite …
and yes, dear Master, i'll dream of strawberries …
and of cream…
and of you.
good night, Master, from your devoted slave-kitten.
= = = = = = = = = = =
Sweet dreams, sexy.
= = = = = = = = = = =
Tuesday, 17 April 2007
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Holes for Rent
This story was triggered by this post (and very explicit video) on Zille Defeu's fetish fantasies and this from David's A View from the Top. The images, both seen and imagined, stewed and burbled in my brain for days, until they emerged transformed into the following.
I meant to give you this story on Monday, but it needed a little more work. So I posted a little apology, with a promise to deliver on Tuesday. Of course, I had no right to do that. The philosopher has given me the schedule of Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, and I have no authority to change that. So this will count as Wednesday's post. Please forgive me for leading you to expect otherwise. The fault is mine alone.
* * * * * * * * * *
They needed the money.
They needed the money and he needed proof. Proof that he really did own her. Proof that she would submit to whatever humiliating task he forced on her. Proof that she wouldn’t love him the less for it.
They were down in the dungeon. He had tied her to the futon, had spanked her, had beaten her, had adorned her with hot wax. He put his hands around her neck, just tight enough to remind her that he controlled the very breath she took. She was so deep in subspace that she could barely speak, but he knew she could get out the answers to the catechism.
“These breasts,” he twisted her nipples until she screamed. “These breasts, kitten, which I can pinch and twist and cover with clothespins. Who owns these breasts?”
“You own them, master. You own them.” She had to struggle to get the words out, drawing them up from some deep well, miles away, in another universe.
“This mouth,” he forced it open, running his fingers over her teeth, and then briefly fucking her mouth with his tongue. “This mouth,” he continued, “that I will fuck until you choke and gasp for air, this mouth that I will fill with my cum. Who owns it, slave?”
The edges of her consciousness caught the switch from “kitten” to “slave” and she slipped even further into subspace. Each word that followed took a huge effort. She reeled them in one by one.
“Y-You… own it…., master. Y-Y-You o-own…. m-m-my……m-m-m-mouth.”
“This cunt,” his fingers sloshed down the slide of her submission, grabbing onto her clit to save himself from drowining in her womb. “Who owns it, slave? Who owns this cunt?”
He rushed ahead, without waiting for an answer.
“And this ass, slave. This tight little asshole,” which his finger easily breached with the aid of the cunt juices that coated his hand. “Whose little anus is this?”
She tried to answer, she really did. But the bridge to her words had dissolved in the mist.
“I own them.This cunt, this clit, this ass, they’re all mine, slave. YOU’RE all mine, SLAVE. And do you know what that means? Do you know what that means? You’re my property. You know that. And what can I do with my property?”
She tried again. And again, she couldn’t do it.
He slapped her face. Not very hard. Just enough to restore her power of speech and some basic vocabulary.
“I’m your property. You… you can sell me. You can… can… give me away.”
Tears wandered down her cheeks.
“Ah no, kitten, don’t cry. I would never give you away. I would never sell you. But your holes, my little slave… I’m going to rent out your holes.”
She gasped. And disappeared back down into subspace.
The idea was not new to him. The fantasy had lived and congealed in his brain for weeks. All the details had been worked out. But only now was he sure enough of them both to go ahead with it. Her response to objectification and humiliation had been growing, as had his security in the bonds between them. He needed to do this. Just this once. Just to see how far her obedience would take her.
The set-up was simple. He would reduce her to two holes. She’d be nothing but a cunt and an anus. Her mouth was his alone.
He bought a saw-horse, and trimmed the legs until when she was bent over it her hands and feet touched the ground. He wrapped the top in foam rubber, but that was his only concession to comfort.
He advertised to the audience that had witnessed her masturbation performance. The participants were limited to twenty, of which three would be women with strap-ons. He rented two rooms in an office building that would be empty on a weekend night. One would be the waiting room.
She floated through the preparations as if permanently hung over, never quite out of subspace. She tried not to think about what was coming, and could think of nothing else. She was terrified. She was excited. She was leery. And she wanted to prove that she would accede to any demand he made.
The night arrived. The customers arrived. The fee had been paid ahead of time. A healthy fee. He hadn’t told her what they needed the money for, but some of it would be a gift for her – the trip to Paris and Ireland she had long dreamed of taking with him.
What the customers would experience would barely deserve the name of having sex with her. They would be fucking her holes. It would be one step above masturbating. Cold, clinical, and effective. There was one fee for either cunt or anus, and ten per cent off the combined fee for both.
Her ass had rarely been used, and she found herself dwelling on the ass fucking more than anything else. He didn’t want her hurt, so gradually prepared her for the invasion ahead. Every night for two weeks, he kept her filled with a butt plug, increasing the size every few days until she could easily tolerate the middle size and take the largest one without too much pain. He didn’t want to risk bleeding. Her cunt, he knew, could open to most anything with enough lube.
The first customer was a man. He entered the room and saw nothing ahead of him but a pair of buttocks, an anus, and a cunt. Stanchions and ropes, a waiting line at the bank, directed him straight towards the target. He was there to make a deposit.
There was to be no undressing. The customer merely extracted his penis through his fly. At the doorway he was handed a condom. He unrolled it onto his already hard cock, and then anointed it with a handful of Astroglide. Customer #1 was a cunt man only.
The customers were not to touch her with their hands. They could brace themselves on the saw horse as it extended on either side of her ass. She was bound so tightly to the frame, wrists and ankles each chained to the base of one leg, that an erect cock could enter either orifice with a single thrust.
She sensed #1 walking up behind her. Sensed him from the bottom of her subspace pit. Her owner had whispered dire threats in her ear before they started, he had spanked her, he had beaten her, he did everything he could to send her far away. This was a joint experiment – to see how thoroughly she could disappear.
She was nothing. She was her holes. Whatever was left of her brain dwelt in those holes. She felt the first thrust. She felt nothing. She was a cunt. This is what she was born to be. She was a hole, she was nothing, she felt nothing.
#1 fucked. #1 came. #1 left.
#2 and #3 repeated the pattern.
#4 was a women with a very large strap-on. Very hard and very large, but not more than she could take. She swam up a little ways and held on to the sensation. She was being fucked by a stone phallus, by a statue, Venus with a penis. And then she slipped away again.
#5 wanted her ass. Her master basted her with K-Y before allowing the customer to enter. It took a little pushing before he made it through, and she needed to be conscious for it, pushing out to help him enter. It hurt. She tried not to but she cried out. He pounded her ass and she screamed, and that only made him harder and more brutal. She tried to keep silent, but the pain flowed out her eyes instead. She thought his final thrust would split her in two, but at least he finally came and withdrew. She promised herself she wouldn’t scream again, no matter what. The screaming brought her back to consciousness, and she wanted nothing more than to float away.
After that, it was mostly routine. A couple of the guys wanted both holes. The rule was clear: cunt first, then ass. She returned to feeling nothing. She could have been one of those toys men can buy in a sex shop, a pseudo-cunt with which to masturbate. Plastic has no feelings. Plastic doesn’t bleed. Plastic doesn’t cry.
She did bleed, just a little. But she was too far gone into subspace to cry.
He wanted to go to her. He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to tell her what a good job she was doing, how proud he was of her, what a good kitten she was. But he knew better. He knew that his words would shatter the armor she had built around herself, and make it harder to play it through until the end. He knew so well how his slave kitten’s mind worked. He would wait.
Finally, it was time for #20. Just another cock. It was all the same to her by now. Wherever she was. A tiny part of her brain, a microchip calculator, knew this was the last one. This one wanted it all. A fitting way to end. He fucked her cunt, he fucked her ass, he grunted, he groaned, and he came. It was over.
He left her bound while he ushered out this last of their customers. He locked the door and stood for a moment, gathering himself together, wrestling with the feelings that surged within him. Had it been a mistake? Perhaps. He wasn’t sure. But it was done. And they’d never do it again.
The 2 room suite came with a small washroom. He filled a bowl with warm water, and picking up a bar of her favorite soap and a washcloth, he came up behind her. Gently, he cleansed her abused orifices. He knelt at her feet and unchained her ankles, then moved around to the front and unchained her wrists.
He felt a tear drop onto his neck. Standing up, he gathered her into his arms and eased her to the ground. He kissed her tears, stroked her hair, rubbed her limbs to get the blood flowing again, but it wasn’t yet time for the ritual reassurances.
“You’re not quite done yet, kitten. Not quite done.”
He pulled of his jeans, lay down on the industrial carpet, and pulled her on top of him.
“Now, my slave, my pet, my cock whore, my fuck toy. Now. Whose mouth is this, kitten? Whose mouth is this, slave?”
She was wrung out, her head was swimming, but the words rang out in love and triumph.
“It’s YOURS, master. Yours and no one else’s. You own me, master. You own me. They fucked me, but they never had me. Only you.”
Or that’s what she WOULD have said. The last words were lost as he pushed her mouth down over his screaming cock. Clutching her hair in his grasp, the hair she’d grown at his command just for this purpose, he pushed her down over his erection, pushed her throat down over his urgency, he fucked her with all the anger that had built up against the other cocks that had used her, and he exploded his joy at her obedience.
And then he took her home.
I meant to give you this story on Monday, but it needed a little more work. So I posted a little apology, with a promise to deliver on Tuesday. Of course, I had no right to do that. The philosopher has given me the schedule of Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, and I have no authority to change that. So this will count as Wednesday's post. Please forgive me for leading you to expect otherwise. The fault is mine alone.
* * * * * * * * * *
They needed the money.
They needed the money and he needed proof. Proof that he really did own her. Proof that she would submit to whatever humiliating task he forced on her. Proof that she wouldn’t love him the less for it.
They were down in the dungeon. He had tied her to the futon, had spanked her, had beaten her, had adorned her with hot wax. He put his hands around her neck, just tight enough to remind her that he controlled the very breath she took. She was so deep in subspace that she could barely speak, but he knew she could get out the answers to the catechism.
“These breasts,” he twisted her nipples until she screamed. “These breasts, kitten, which I can pinch and twist and cover with clothespins. Who owns these breasts?”
“You own them, master. You own them.” She had to struggle to get the words out, drawing them up from some deep well, miles away, in another universe.
“This mouth,” he forced it open, running his fingers over her teeth, and then briefly fucking her mouth with his tongue. “This mouth,” he continued, “that I will fuck until you choke and gasp for air, this mouth that I will fill with my cum. Who owns it, slave?”
The edges of her consciousness caught the switch from “kitten” to “slave” and she slipped even further into subspace. Each word that followed took a huge effort. She reeled them in one by one.
“Y-You… own it…., master. Y-Y-You o-own…. m-m-my……m-m-m-mouth.”
“This cunt,” his fingers sloshed down the slide of her submission, grabbing onto her clit to save himself from drowining in her womb. “Who owns it, slave? Who owns this cunt?”
He rushed ahead, without waiting for an answer.
“And this ass, slave. This tight little asshole,” which his finger easily breached with the aid of the cunt juices that coated his hand. “Whose little anus is this?”
She tried to answer, she really did. But the bridge to her words had dissolved in the mist.
“I own them.This cunt, this clit, this ass, they’re all mine, slave. YOU’RE all mine, SLAVE. And do you know what that means? Do you know what that means? You’re my property. You know that. And what can I do with my property?”
She tried again. And again, she couldn’t do it.
He slapped her face. Not very hard. Just enough to restore her power of speech and some basic vocabulary.
“I’m your property. You… you can sell me. You can… can… give me away.”
Tears wandered down her cheeks.
“Ah no, kitten, don’t cry. I would never give you away. I would never sell you. But your holes, my little slave… I’m going to rent out your holes.”
She gasped. And disappeared back down into subspace.
The idea was not new to him. The fantasy had lived and congealed in his brain for weeks. All the details had been worked out. But only now was he sure enough of them both to go ahead with it. Her response to objectification and humiliation had been growing, as had his security in the bonds between them. He needed to do this. Just this once. Just to see how far her obedience would take her.
The set-up was simple. He would reduce her to two holes. She’d be nothing but a cunt and an anus. Her mouth was his alone.
He bought a saw-horse, and trimmed the legs until when she was bent over it her hands and feet touched the ground. He wrapped the top in foam rubber, but that was his only concession to comfort.
He advertised to the audience that had witnessed her masturbation performance. The participants were limited to twenty, of which three would be women with strap-ons. He rented two rooms in an office building that would be empty on a weekend night. One would be the waiting room.
She floated through the preparations as if permanently hung over, never quite out of subspace. She tried not to think about what was coming, and could think of nothing else. She was terrified. She was excited. She was leery. And she wanted to prove that she would accede to any demand he made.
The night arrived. The customers arrived. The fee had been paid ahead of time. A healthy fee. He hadn’t told her what they needed the money for, but some of it would be a gift for her – the trip to Paris and Ireland she had long dreamed of taking with him.
What the customers would experience would barely deserve the name of having sex with her. They would be fucking her holes. It would be one step above masturbating. Cold, clinical, and effective. There was one fee for either cunt or anus, and ten per cent off the combined fee for both.
Her ass had rarely been used, and she found herself dwelling on the ass fucking more than anything else. He didn’t want her hurt, so gradually prepared her for the invasion ahead. Every night for two weeks, he kept her filled with a butt plug, increasing the size every few days until she could easily tolerate the middle size and take the largest one without too much pain. He didn’t want to risk bleeding. Her cunt, he knew, could open to most anything with enough lube.
The first customer was a man. He entered the room and saw nothing ahead of him but a pair of buttocks, an anus, and a cunt. Stanchions and ropes, a waiting line at the bank, directed him straight towards the target. He was there to make a deposit.
There was to be no undressing. The customer merely extracted his penis through his fly. At the doorway he was handed a condom. He unrolled it onto his already hard cock, and then anointed it with a handful of Astroglide. Customer #1 was a cunt man only.
The customers were not to touch her with their hands. They could brace themselves on the saw horse as it extended on either side of her ass. She was bound so tightly to the frame, wrists and ankles each chained to the base of one leg, that an erect cock could enter either orifice with a single thrust.
She sensed #1 walking up behind her. Sensed him from the bottom of her subspace pit. Her owner had whispered dire threats in her ear before they started, he had spanked her, he had beaten her, he did everything he could to send her far away. This was a joint experiment – to see how thoroughly she could disappear.
She was nothing. She was her holes. Whatever was left of her brain dwelt in those holes. She felt the first thrust. She felt nothing. She was a cunt. This is what she was born to be. She was a hole, she was nothing, she felt nothing.
#1 fucked. #1 came. #1 left.
#2 and #3 repeated the pattern.
#4 was a women with a very large strap-on. Very hard and very large, but not more than she could take. She swam up a little ways and held on to the sensation. She was being fucked by a stone phallus, by a statue, Venus with a penis. And then she slipped away again.
#5 wanted her ass. Her master basted her with K-Y before allowing the customer to enter. It took a little pushing before he made it through, and she needed to be conscious for it, pushing out to help him enter. It hurt. She tried not to but she cried out. He pounded her ass and she screamed, and that only made him harder and more brutal. She tried to keep silent, but the pain flowed out her eyes instead. She thought his final thrust would split her in two, but at least he finally came and withdrew. She promised herself she wouldn’t scream again, no matter what. The screaming brought her back to consciousness, and she wanted nothing more than to float away.
After that, it was mostly routine. A couple of the guys wanted both holes. The rule was clear: cunt first, then ass. She returned to feeling nothing. She could have been one of those toys men can buy in a sex shop, a pseudo-cunt with which to masturbate. Plastic has no feelings. Plastic doesn’t bleed. Plastic doesn’t cry.
She did bleed, just a little. But she was too far gone into subspace to cry.
He wanted to go to her. He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to tell her what a good job she was doing, how proud he was of her, what a good kitten she was. But he knew better. He knew that his words would shatter the armor she had built around herself, and make it harder to play it through until the end. He knew so well how his slave kitten’s mind worked. He would wait.
Finally, it was time for #20. Just another cock. It was all the same to her by now. Wherever she was. A tiny part of her brain, a microchip calculator, knew this was the last one. This one wanted it all. A fitting way to end. He fucked her cunt, he fucked her ass, he grunted, he groaned, and he came. It was over.
He left her bound while he ushered out this last of their customers. He locked the door and stood for a moment, gathering himself together, wrestling with the feelings that surged within him. Had it been a mistake? Perhaps. He wasn’t sure. But it was done. And they’d never do it again.
The 2 room suite came with a small washroom. He filled a bowl with warm water, and picking up a bar of her favorite soap and a washcloth, he came up behind her. Gently, he cleansed her abused orifices. He knelt at her feet and unchained her ankles, then moved around to the front and unchained her wrists.
He felt a tear drop onto his neck. Standing up, he gathered her into his arms and eased her to the ground. He kissed her tears, stroked her hair, rubbed her limbs to get the blood flowing again, but it wasn’t yet time for the ritual reassurances.
“You’re not quite done yet, kitten. Not quite done.”
He pulled of his jeans, lay down on the industrial carpet, and pulled her on top of him.
“Now, my slave, my pet, my cock whore, my fuck toy. Now. Whose mouth is this, kitten? Whose mouth is this, slave?”
She was wrung out, her head was swimming, but the words rang out in love and triumph.
“It’s YOURS, master. Yours and no one else’s. You own me, master. You own me. They fucked me, but they never had me. Only you.”
Or that’s what she WOULD have said. The last words were lost as he pushed her mouth down over his screaming cock. Clutching her hair in his grasp, the hair she’d grown at his command just for this purpose, he pushed her down over his erection, pushed her throat down over his urgency, he fucked her with all the anger that had built up against the other cocks that had used her, and he exploded his joy at her obedience.
And then he took her home.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Masturbation Melody
In celebration of Masturbation Month
on the seventh of May -
it's Masturbation Day!
with what toy, oh evil master
with what lube in the palm of your hand
could you think, oh best beloved,
to create a simulacrum
of the feel of your cock in my mouth.
it’s not just my skill
and the wet and the warmth.
it’s not just the thrill
of the rape of my throat
you’ve pushed past my tonsils
you’ve ravished my heart
and it’s love, not saliva,
that covers your skin.
but try, my professor
it’s better than nothing
we’ll honor this day
together, apart.
and i’ll moan to the phone
and you’ll spurt to the sky
and we’ll do what we can
and we will muddle through.
for more on this glorious occasion,
see (among other sites)
this and this.
on the seventh of May -
it's Masturbation Day!
with what toy, oh evil master
with what lube in the palm of your hand
could you think, oh best beloved,
to create a simulacrum
of the feel of your cock in my mouth.
it’s not just my skill
and the wet and the warmth.
it’s not just the thrill
of the rape of my throat
you’ve pushed past my tonsils
you’ve ravished my heart
and it’s love, not saliva,
that covers your skin.
but try, my professor
it’s better than nothing
we’ll honor this day
together, apart.
and i’ll moan to the phone
and you’ll spurt to the sky
and we’ll do what we can
and we will muddle through.
for more on this glorious occasion,
see (among other sites)
this and this.
Monday, April 28, 2008
The Orchid Room
A story inspired by a visit to the botanical gardens with an old friend and lapsed lover during an intimate visit conducted with the philosopher's permission. Details of THAT in a future episode. Meanwhile, this, from 10 April 2007.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
there is a very fat log above the path, just before a little bridge, with orchids growing from the top.
especially as a philosopher, you have some unexpected connections, and arrange for us to stay past closing.
these situations usually signal some expression of your cruel imagination, so i am disconcerted, but say nothing.
you order me to remove my clothes. i start to protest, but sensing it is hopeless, i obey, muttering under my breath about the things you subject me to.
you bind my hands in front of me, throw a heavy rope over the log, and raise my hands high above my head. with ropes around the posts at the end of the little bridge, you tie my legs apart.
walking around your helpless slave, you admire the view, probing here and there just to incite my curses. then reaching into the lush undergrowth, you pull out a previously unnoticed basket of vines and orchids, some on long stems and some individual flowers.
with studied deliberation, you wind the vines around my naked form, weaving in stems of orchids while inserting other blossoms into my hair, my bush, behind my ears, frequently stepping back to admire your handiwork and taking photos of your creation as it progresses. since you cannot avoid caressing my skin as you adorn it, i am soon moaning and writhing as best i can within the bondage of the ropes.
you smile at my distress.
finally, your work is complete. you look with pleasure at the piece of living art your slave has become. there is one last test. you insert a finger into the cavern between my thighs. you withdraw it covered with nectar.
satisfied, you pull over a small stool, also considerately left for you, and bury your tongue between my dripping labia.
it is time for the bee to gather honey
= = = = =
As I harvest your wild honey. . .careful not to spill a drop. . .
I inhale deeply, taking in the jungle scent of the orchids, and your excitement.
My kitten is a savage nymph. . .a sylvan goddess with bottomless passion. She dances naked through the woods, and bathes in mountain lakes. . .frolicking with the birds and the beasts.
But I have captured her, for a moment, and that passion is mine to play with for a while. . .
And I take advantage of it. . .tasting, touching, hearing. . .drowning in your body. . .
And your howls of desire can be heard for miles. . .
= = = = = =
you feed your desire, but only tease and incite mine.
i writhe with longing as your tongue plunders the honey comb.
i beg for release, but my tears only harden your resolve to display your mastery, as they harden the weapon growing between your thighs.
finally you cut me down, but for your purposes, not out of pity.
you lead my by my bound hands into the next room and lay me down in a bed of greenery. my hands are tied above my head to sprinkler pipe.
you spread my legs and gaze fondly at the sight within, as i whimper softly...
= = = = = = =
Your moans. . .desperation mixed with raw desire. . .inflame me.
I kneel between your legs, and spread them wide. . .wider. . ! Although I have been lapping greedily at your dripping cunt. more honey flows, more than I could ever guzzle down. . .
I take out my cock. . .huge and erect by now. . .and place the very tip against your glistening lips. . .
But I do not want to end your torture too soon. . .I want to hear you beg for it. . .
Do you want it, kitten. . .do you want me to fuck you?
= = = = = = = = = =
please, Master...
please...
you know i want you to fuck me
i am weeping for it
(for real)
my desire for you devours me
it never stops devouring me
i ache to feel deep within me how totally you possess me
your cock within me says it more definitely
than all the poetic words you send me
please fuck me
please cum within me
flood me with the fountain of your life,
with the cataract that rushes from your source
and paint my cunt with the colors of your soul
i am yours.
claim me.
= = = = = = =
Not yet, kitten. . .
I untie your hands, and lift you into a kneeling position, your hands tied behind your back. . .
I thrust into your mouth. . .
Suck me kitten. . .
= = = = = = = =
everything i feel for you goes into loving you with my mouth...
can you tell?
can you hear it in my moans of pleasure
as i feel the pleasure i am giving you?
i feel you grown even bigger as my tongue caresses you.
i am bound, you invaded my mouth,
but i suck on you with joy.
the world vanishes
you and i vanish
nothing exists but your cock and my mouth
and the tears that express my gratitude for being able to serve your lust.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
there is a very fat log above the path, just before a little bridge, with orchids growing from the top.
especially as a philosopher, you have some unexpected connections, and arrange for us to stay past closing.
these situations usually signal some expression of your cruel imagination, so i am disconcerted, but say nothing.
you order me to remove my clothes. i start to protest, but sensing it is hopeless, i obey, muttering under my breath about the things you subject me to.
you bind my hands in front of me, throw a heavy rope over the log, and raise my hands high above my head. with ropes around the posts at the end of the little bridge, you tie my legs apart.
walking around your helpless slave, you admire the view, probing here and there just to incite my curses. then reaching into the lush undergrowth, you pull out a previously unnoticed basket of vines and orchids, some on long stems and some individual flowers.
with studied deliberation, you wind the vines around my naked form, weaving in stems of orchids while inserting other blossoms into my hair, my bush, behind my ears, frequently stepping back to admire your handiwork and taking photos of your creation as it progresses. since you cannot avoid caressing my skin as you adorn it, i am soon moaning and writhing as best i can within the bondage of the ropes.
you smile at my distress.
finally, your work is complete. you look with pleasure at the piece of living art your slave has become. there is one last test. you insert a finger into the cavern between my thighs. you withdraw it covered with nectar.
satisfied, you pull over a small stool, also considerately left for you, and bury your tongue between my dripping labia.
it is time for the bee to gather honey
= = = = =
As I harvest your wild honey. . .careful not to spill a drop. . .
I inhale deeply, taking in the jungle scent of the orchids, and your excitement.
My kitten is a savage nymph. . .a sylvan goddess with bottomless passion. She dances naked through the woods, and bathes in mountain lakes. . .frolicking with the birds and the beasts.
But I have captured her, for a moment, and that passion is mine to play with for a while. . .
And I take advantage of it. . .tasting, touching, hearing. . .drowning in your body. . .
And your howls of desire can be heard for miles. . .
= = = = = =
you feed your desire, but only tease and incite mine.
i writhe with longing as your tongue plunders the honey comb.
i beg for release, but my tears only harden your resolve to display your mastery, as they harden the weapon growing between your thighs.
finally you cut me down, but for your purposes, not out of pity.
you lead my by my bound hands into the next room and lay me down in a bed of greenery. my hands are tied above my head to sprinkler pipe.
you spread my legs and gaze fondly at the sight within, as i whimper softly...
= = = = = = =
Your moans. . .desperation mixed with raw desire. . .inflame me.
I kneel between your legs, and spread them wide. . .wider. . ! Although I have been lapping greedily at your dripping cunt. more honey flows, more than I could ever guzzle down. . .
I take out my cock. . .huge and erect by now. . .and place the very tip against your glistening lips. . .
But I do not want to end your torture too soon. . .I want to hear you beg for it. . .
Do you want it, kitten. . .do you want me to fuck you?
= = = = = = = = = =
please, Master...
please...
you know i want you to fuck me
i am weeping for it
(for real)
my desire for you devours me
it never stops devouring me
i ache to feel deep within me how totally you possess me
your cock within me says it more definitely
than all the poetic words you send me
please fuck me
please cum within me
flood me with the fountain of your life,
with the cataract that rushes from your source
and paint my cunt with the colors of your soul
i am yours.
claim me.
= = = = = = =
Not yet, kitten. . .
I untie your hands, and lift you into a kneeling position, your hands tied behind your back. . .
I thrust into your mouth. . .
Suck me kitten. . .
= = = = = = = =
everything i feel for you goes into loving you with my mouth...
can you tell?
can you hear it in my moans of pleasure
as i feel the pleasure i am giving you?
i feel you grown even bigger as my tongue caresses you.
i am bound, you invaded my mouth,
but i suck on you with joy.
the world vanishes
you and i vanish
nothing exists but your cock and my mouth
and the tears that express my gratitude for being able to serve your lust.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
To the philosopher, with love and twitches
feeling twitchy
very sexy
need a spanking
want to suck you
perky nipples
swollen cunt lips
dripping
pooling
soggy panties
do you sense it?
hot desire
pure submission
trust unthreatened
proffered buttocks
warm moist slave mouth
limbs to tether
flesh to torture
virgin rosebud
begging pussy
begging kitten
at your feet.
‘tis the spring, sir
i’m your fucktoy
squeeze your hands
around my throat, sir
use me for your
evil pleasure
take me in your
loving arms, sir
wipe my tears and
kiss my mouth that
screamed with pain and
drank your cum.
‘tis the spring and
i’m your kitten.
i’m your selkie
i’m your slave.
‘tis the spring but
i’ll be patient
and I’ll be here
when you’re done.
very sexy
need a spanking
want to suck you
perky nipples
swollen cunt lips
dripping
pooling
soggy panties
do you sense it?
hot desire
pure submission
trust unthreatened
proffered buttocks
warm moist slave mouth
limbs to tether
flesh to torture
virgin rosebud
begging pussy
begging kitten
at your feet.
‘tis the spring, sir
i’m your fucktoy
squeeze your hands
around my throat, sir
use me for your
evil pleasure
take me in your
loving arms, sir
wipe my tears and
kiss my mouth that
screamed with pain and
drank your cum.
‘tis the spring and
i’m your kitten.
i’m your selkie
i’m your slave.
‘tis the spring but
i’ll be patient
and I’ll be here
when you’re done.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Lupercalia
From the day the philosopher first wrote this for me, this has been my favorite story of his. In truth, that is due to the last three words They were written but 10 days after we met on line, but somehow they struck me as being more than just an appropriate ending for the story.
Like Dickens, the philosopher published serially. The installments came in gaps of perhaps 5-15 minutes, but I devoured each one on arrival and then waited impatiently for the next one. Of course, I also fired off responses to each section, including the observation that I had cum partway through. I've left out my comments along the way, but have inserted indications of the segments. I did, however, leave my response to the last three words.
Coming as this story did after my story Cold, I had already been given the identity of kitten. But in those days there was a tigress side that used to emerge as well, and it is that beast which is reflected in the story. As my submission has deepened, the tigress has all but disappeared. This wasn't a deliberate decision on my part, merely a reflection of the powerful impact the philosopher has on my consciousness.
Finally, note that I received this last year on the night before Valentine's Day.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lupercalia
by the philosopher
Tuesday, 13 February 2007
She is a shadow. Less than a shadow, a mere whispered legend, of a beast that haunts the deep forest. Strange howls, which are probably the wind, are heard on certain nights. Young men of the town are occasionally found, scratches on their back, dazed from exhaustion, unable to say what happened to them.
But nobody has ever seen her.
I will see her. I will find the beast, and capture her, and bring her back.
I set my trap. . .baited with the sweetest fruits, and wild honeycomb. . .my instincts tell me that this is what the she-devil craves. And I wait.
Darkness falls, and the woods are silent except for the occasional owl-call.
For hours I wait, in the dark and the cold, until. . .
She is there. A fragrance fills my nostrils, I taste her scent on the night air. I see nothing yet, but a rustling of the brush tells me my trap is well baited. . .
A shadow approaches. . .
- - -
She doesn't see me, so intent is she on filling her belly with treats. The juices run down her chin, so careless is her greed. She is hunger personified. . .a lust that will never be satisfied, or tamed. . .
Or tamed. . .
I will tame her.
In one quick motion, I throw the net. . .it spins through the air, and covers her completely. She howls, and trys to escape, but I am upon her. . .
I tie the net closed, and wrap my arms around her, thinking nothing of the bites and scratches she lavishes upon me. I allow her rage to spend itself. . .then, grabbing a fistful of her hair, I force her head back. I hold her gaze for several long seconds, smiling when she is the first to look away.
Then I force my tongue into her mouth, again not caring when she bites my lip and draws blood. The stab of pain only inflames my lust, and increases my desire to possess her.
- - -
I kiss her through the net that still enwraps her body, my tongue arrogantly probing as deep as I can. When I pull away, she is gasping for breath, and just ever so slightly less resistant.
Still she struggles, more so when she sees the smile on my face, the smile that means that I intend to take full advantage of the situation.
Still grasping her hair, I cut away the net with a small sharp knife, leaving it around her legs to prevent her escape, and tying shreds around her wrists, binding them behind her back.
I then throw her to the ground.
Captured she is, but not yet tame.
Not yet.
- - -
She is an animal, a spirit of the woods, an arrogant sylvan goddess. She has never wanted for anything, taking what she desires from anywhere. . .or anyone she wants. The forest is her realm, and I an impertinent intruder.
But the goddess is about to learn that she is no longer in charge. Her days of power are over.
The first lesson is the most direct. I pull her to my knees, expose my massive erection, and again grabbing her hair, force it between her lips. She almost seems to forget herself, gobbling it down like it was a piece of fruit, but when she looks up and sees me watching her, anger flashes through her eyes. I firmly grab her jaw in a vice-like grip to discourage any biting. . .but something tells me this is not necessary.
In a few seconds I am roaring with pleasure, and dripping down her chin. . .her tongue sweeps across her lips, as she strives to swallow every last drop, and as she strives to comprehend her new situation. . .her pleasure comes last. . .
- - -
Her skilled, savage mouth has brought me to orgasm. . .but I am far from satisfied. I lift her up and throw her over my shoulder. I will take her back to camp, where her education will continue.
Once there, I put a collar around her neck, and fasten a long chain to it, the other end of which I tie to a stake in the earth. She is now a captive, with only as much freedom as I allow.
I stand just out of reach as she flies at me, trying to scratch my eyes out. She has never been so treated, and I can't help noticing the effect it has on her. Her nipples are hard, and I don't need to see the wetness between her thighs. . .her jungle scent fills the air.
When she has tired herself out a bit more, I strike again. . .lesson two. I throw her on her hands and knees, and enter her from behind, like a fox mounting his bitch. . .as in truth you soon will be. My pet my slave, my sexual plaything.
But that is a way off yet. The only thing you are aware of now is the burning pleasure in your cunt, as I thrust deep and hard, and pull out slow and gentle, then thrust again.
You squeal with each thrust and moan with each withdrawal, until together we establich a raucous rhythm, a profane music with which we entertain the dark forest.
The campfire burns out long before we tire of our grappling, but eventually we fall to the ground, spent and exhausted.
You couldn't escape if you wanted, given the chain around your neck. . .and as you lie there, a strange alien thought drifts through your mind unbidden, yet strangely welcome:
You don't want to.
- - -
I am awakened in the early morning, by a soft gentle nibbling at my cock. I open my eyes to find the beast sucking me with her preternatural skill. The lessons have had their effect. . .
I pull her to me, and we fuck again, gentler this time, but still wild and savage.
When we are done, she looks at me as if she expects to be let go. I have had my fun, but it's over now.
Little does she know.
I was not looking for a roll in the hay, or a cheap thrill. I am looking to ravish, to possess, to own.
I flip her over, and force her into a kneeling position. I spread her buttocks with my hands. . . those proud muscular buttocks. . .and bring the very tip of my cock to rest between them. I give her a second to realize the inevitable, and then I thrust.
Her howls, I am told, are heard from miles away.
- - -
I bathe her in a nearby stream. She is limp with exhaustion, and I have removed her collar.
There is no more resistance in her.
I put her in a wooden cage, that I have fashioned expressly for this purpose, and I tie a leather band around her ankle: My insignia.
I drape a cloth over the cage, and then I ride back into town, pulling the cage, and the treasure it possesses.
I bring it to the center of town, where people have gathered to see. They had thought I had gone to my doom, and were now thinking that I was attempting some fraud.
The crowd gasps as one, when the cloth is pulled back; a woman shrieks with terror. Never have they seen such savage beauty, such raw sensuality. . .and to see it caged is beyond imagining.
Suddenly a man calls out "I will give you a hundred sovereigns for her! For one night!" Soon you are at the center of a lusty auction, each male, and a few of the females, in the crowd desperate to have you, if even for a moment.
I silence the crowd with a gesture. I reach through the bars of the cage and run my fingers through your hair. Then, without raising my voice, as if I am merely stating a plain fact, I seal your fate:
- - -
"She is mine"
- - - -
Thank you.
That was the right answer.
Like Dickens, the philosopher published serially. The installments came in gaps of perhaps 5-15 minutes, but I devoured each one on arrival and then waited impatiently for the next one. Of course, I also fired off responses to each section, including the observation that I had cum partway through. I've left out my comments along the way, but have inserted indications of the segments. I did, however, leave my response to the last three words.
Coming as this story did after my story Cold, I had already been given the identity of kitten. But in those days there was a tigress side that used to emerge as well, and it is that beast which is reflected in the story. As my submission has deepened, the tigress has all but disappeared. This wasn't a deliberate decision on my part, merely a reflection of the powerful impact the philosopher has on my consciousness.
Finally, note that I received this last year on the night before Valentine's Day.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lupercalia
by the philosopher
Tuesday, 13 February 2007
She is a shadow. Less than a shadow, a mere whispered legend, of a beast that haunts the deep forest. Strange howls, which are probably the wind, are heard on certain nights. Young men of the town are occasionally found, scratches on their back, dazed from exhaustion, unable to say what happened to them.
But nobody has ever seen her.
I will see her. I will find the beast, and capture her, and bring her back.
I set my trap. . .baited with the sweetest fruits, and wild honeycomb. . .my instincts tell me that this is what the she-devil craves. And I wait.
Darkness falls, and the woods are silent except for the occasional owl-call.
For hours I wait, in the dark and the cold, until. . .
She is there. A fragrance fills my nostrils, I taste her scent on the night air. I see nothing yet, but a rustling of the brush tells me my trap is well baited. . .
A shadow approaches. . .
- - -
She doesn't see me, so intent is she on filling her belly with treats. The juices run down her chin, so careless is her greed. She is hunger personified. . .a lust that will never be satisfied, or tamed. . .
Or tamed. . .
I will tame her.
In one quick motion, I throw the net. . .it spins through the air, and covers her completely. She howls, and trys to escape, but I am upon her. . .
I tie the net closed, and wrap my arms around her, thinking nothing of the bites and scratches she lavishes upon me. I allow her rage to spend itself. . .then, grabbing a fistful of her hair, I force her head back. I hold her gaze for several long seconds, smiling when she is the first to look away.
Then I force my tongue into her mouth, again not caring when she bites my lip and draws blood. The stab of pain only inflames my lust, and increases my desire to possess her.
- - -
I kiss her through the net that still enwraps her body, my tongue arrogantly probing as deep as I can. When I pull away, she is gasping for breath, and just ever so slightly less resistant.
Still she struggles, more so when she sees the smile on my face, the smile that means that I intend to take full advantage of the situation.
Still grasping her hair, I cut away the net with a small sharp knife, leaving it around her legs to prevent her escape, and tying shreds around her wrists, binding them behind her back.
I then throw her to the ground.
Captured she is, but not yet tame.
Not yet.
- - -
She is an animal, a spirit of the woods, an arrogant sylvan goddess. She has never wanted for anything, taking what she desires from anywhere. . .or anyone she wants. The forest is her realm, and I an impertinent intruder.
But the goddess is about to learn that she is no longer in charge. Her days of power are over.
The first lesson is the most direct. I pull her to my knees, expose my massive erection, and again grabbing her hair, force it between her lips. She almost seems to forget herself, gobbling it down like it was a piece of fruit, but when she looks up and sees me watching her, anger flashes through her eyes. I firmly grab her jaw in a vice-like grip to discourage any biting. . .but something tells me this is not necessary.
In a few seconds I am roaring with pleasure, and dripping down her chin. . .her tongue sweeps across her lips, as she strives to swallow every last drop, and as she strives to comprehend her new situation. . .her pleasure comes last. . .
- - -
Her skilled, savage mouth has brought me to orgasm. . .but I am far from satisfied. I lift her up and throw her over my shoulder. I will take her back to camp, where her education will continue.
Once there, I put a collar around her neck, and fasten a long chain to it, the other end of which I tie to a stake in the earth. She is now a captive, with only as much freedom as I allow.
I stand just out of reach as she flies at me, trying to scratch my eyes out. She has never been so treated, and I can't help noticing the effect it has on her. Her nipples are hard, and I don't need to see the wetness between her thighs. . .her jungle scent fills the air.
When she has tired herself out a bit more, I strike again. . .lesson two. I throw her on her hands and knees, and enter her from behind, like a fox mounting his bitch. . .as in truth you soon will be. My pet my slave, my sexual plaything.
But that is a way off yet. The only thing you are aware of now is the burning pleasure in your cunt, as I thrust deep and hard, and pull out slow and gentle, then thrust again.
You squeal with each thrust and moan with each withdrawal, until together we establich a raucous rhythm, a profane music with which we entertain the dark forest.
The campfire burns out long before we tire of our grappling, but eventually we fall to the ground, spent and exhausted.
You couldn't escape if you wanted, given the chain around your neck. . .and as you lie there, a strange alien thought drifts through your mind unbidden, yet strangely welcome:
You don't want to.
- - -
I am awakened in the early morning, by a soft gentle nibbling at my cock. I open my eyes to find the beast sucking me with her preternatural skill. The lessons have had their effect. . .
I pull her to me, and we fuck again, gentler this time, but still wild and savage.
When we are done, she looks at me as if she expects to be let go. I have had my fun, but it's over now.
Little does she know.
I was not looking for a roll in the hay, or a cheap thrill. I am looking to ravish, to possess, to own.
I flip her over, and force her into a kneeling position. I spread her buttocks with my hands. . . those proud muscular buttocks. . .and bring the very tip of my cock to rest between them. I give her a second to realize the inevitable, and then I thrust.
Her howls, I am told, are heard from miles away.
- - -
I bathe her in a nearby stream. She is limp with exhaustion, and I have removed her collar.
There is no more resistance in her.
I put her in a wooden cage, that I have fashioned expressly for this purpose, and I tie a leather band around her ankle: My insignia.
I drape a cloth over the cage, and then I ride back into town, pulling the cage, and the treasure it possesses.
I bring it to the center of town, where people have gathered to see. They had thought I had gone to my doom, and were now thinking that I was attempting some fraud.
The crowd gasps as one, when the cloth is pulled back; a woman shrieks with terror. Never have they seen such savage beauty, such raw sensuality. . .and to see it caged is beyond imagining.
Suddenly a man calls out "I will give you a hundred sovereigns for her! For one night!" Soon you are at the center of a lusty auction, each male, and a few of the females, in the crowd desperate to have you, if even for a moment.
I silence the crowd with a gesture. I reach through the bars of the cage and run my fingers through your hair. Then, without raising my voice, as if I am merely stating a plain fact, I seal your fate:
- - -
"She is mine"
- - - -
Thank you.
That was the right answer.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
defeated by technology
we have rituals, the philosopher and i.
they are the rituals of connection
the rituals of distance.
and sometimes
there's dis-
connection.
for me there is a
task and a joy.
the morning wake-up call.
he's a professor and a grad student
my philosopher of desire.
a ten o'clock scholar, with a
sex slave as alarm clock.
my master declares
the end of my day.
again a phone call,
to be answered promptly.
from 9 o'clock on
the phone
follows me everywhere.
delay displeases him.
tonight he was displeased.
my ear piece, snug in the
dark of my fanny pack,
was eavesdropping on
other people's salacious
chatter and
turned itself on.
the phone rang.
i pressed send
and heard
nothing.
poor frantic kitten
rummaging for the
guerilla saboteur
wildly pressing
again and again
failing to turn it off
no good at fitting it into place
too distressed to think
finally success
the icon is gone
call master back
and he has slammed the door shut
nothing but this
short and curt
"my phone is off.
leave a message."
he must be very tired.
i tell myself he must be very tired.
last class day before spring break.
papers to get graded before spring break.
a long day.
a long commute.
good night, master.
sleep well, master.
perhaps you will wake up briefly
long enough to turn your phone back on
so the voice of your sex slave can
rouse you in the morning.
and if i were there with you
you'd sleep snug and sound
happy with your kitten by your side
and you'd float up to consciousness
lured by the warmth of my mouth round your cock.
they are the rituals of connection
the rituals of distance.
and sometimes
there's dis-
connection.
for me there is a
task and a joy.
the morning wake-up call.
he's a professor and a grad student
my philosopher of desire.
a ten o'clock scholar, with a
sex slave as alarm clock.
my master declares
the end of my day.
again a phone call,
to be answered promptly.
from 9 o'clock on
the phone
follows me everywhere.
delay displeases him.
tonight he was displeased.
my ear piece, snug in the
dark of my fanny pack,
was eavesdropping on
other people's salacious
chatter and
turned itself on.
the phone rang.
i pressed send
and heard
nothing.
poor frantic kitten
rummaging for the
guerilla saboteur
wildly pressing
again and again
failing to turn it off
no good at fitting it into place
too distressed to think
finally success
the icon is gone
call master back
and he has slammed the door shut
nothing but this
short and curt
"my phone is off.
leave a message."
he must be very tired.
i tell myself he must be very tired.
last class day before spring break.
papers to get graded before spring break.
a long day.
a long commute.
good night, master.
sleep well, master.
perhaps you will wake up briefly
long enough to turn your phone back on
so the voice of your sex slave can
rouse you in the morning.
and if i were there with you
you'd sleep snug and sound
happy with your kitten by your side
and you'd float up to consciousness
lured by the warmth of my mouth round your cock.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Comfortable Silence
The comments about my post on whether or not phone sex is obsolete have made this seem the right time to share this extended e-mail intercourse (in all senses of the word) between the philosopher and me. And then when I pulled it out, I realized that it dates from April first of last year, making this the perfect day to print it here.
It began with 2 e-mails from me on a Sunday morning. And then early that afternoon, I received the most delicate of messages...
**********************************************
April 1, 2007
April
The cats don't care about late night trysts.
Their needs are simple, their patience limited.
I am their slave, as I am yours. Without complaint.
Popcorn blossoms exploded over night.
Flannel crept up, exposing another bloom.
It is April. Life is irrepressible. I am yours.
= = = = =
What's really missing...
Do you know what the real problem is with a cyber relationship?
Well yes, of course, there's no actual physical contact, definitely a downside. Tho the sex does make me feel incredibly close to you, and while frustrating on one level is quite different and more fulfilling than mere masturbation.
But it's the silent companionship that we can't pull off. because we have to be writing back and forth in order to keep the connection open. I feel like I'm with you between messages, but it is still an active focus. No sitting together with coffee and bagels and the Sunday NY Times. No curling up with a book while you write a chapter. No watching a movie together.
I remember one time after N [my friend and former housemate] got her own apartment. I was watching one of our favorite TV shows ("House" probably) and called her right after the introductory segment. She knew it had to be me and picked up. We talked during the ads and then stayed on the line, watching together, making occasional comments and chatting thru the breaks.
So instead I just hold you inside me. Not the same. But still something precious.
i am your kitten.
i am your selkie.
and you make my life sweet.
= = = = = = =
12:20 PM
Comfortable Silence
. . .
= = = = =
mmm...
= = = = = =
. . .
= = = = = =
:->
= = = = = =
;-)
= = = = = =
mmm....
= = = = =
Cold here :-(
= = = = = =
'cause you need a snuggle...
= = = = = = =
:-)
= = = = = =
[visualize kitten crawling into your lap and licking your nose before curling up]
purrr....
= = = = = =
:-D
= = = = = = =
mreowr?
snuggle snuggle snuggle
purrrrrrr...
= = = = = = = =
*sighs with contentment*
= = = = = = = = =
ditto...
= = = = = = = =
*wonders what his kitten is wearing*
*If anything*
= = = = = = =
* thinks: God! He's incorrigible! *
:-)
[visualizes pink-purple long-sleeved Henley shirt, waffle fabric. Top 2 buttons undone. Reaches up and undoes a third button...]
[feels wet spot forming in crotch of blue panties under blue jeans. starts to burn as flames shoot out...]
= = = = = = =
*leers openly and unapologetically*
*stares very hard at kitten's chest, trying to see if her nipples are visible*
*places one hand on kitten's thigh*
= = = = = = = =
groan....
[ if they weren't visible before, they sure are now. ]
* removes bra to improve the view *
* puts shirt back on because S--- [current and virginal young housemate] is home for now, before heading down to Virginia for the usual Sunday night dinner with best friend and family. *
= = = = = = =
*grumbles under his breath about S---*
*slowly moves hand up thigh*
*licks lips at the sight of your rigid nipples*
= = = = = = =
* starts breathing faster *
* thighs open of own accord *
* HUGE wet spot appears in jeans *
* eyes become unfocused *
= = = = = = = =
*kneels down in front of kitten*
*undoes button, zipper on jeans*
*puts hands on both thighs*
*starts rubbing*
= = = = = = = =
[S--- pops in to chat about her progress in cleaning her bathroom and how the entire Irish side of her family is alcoholic. says she'll be back between 9 and 10. and leaves.]
indefinable sounds, little whimpers
* leans back in chair, hands lying limply on armrests *
resistance is futile
* blues plays in background while Marko, neutered, tries to rape his sister *
= = = = = = =
*shrugs, silently agreeing with S---’s appraisal of the Irish*
*grins wickedly*
*begins to tug jeans down, over hips*
= = = = = = = =
* raises eyes, gazes openly and unapologetically at delicious magnificence rising before her *
* mouth waters *
* pussy waters *
* breath comes even faster *
* grins back *
= = = = = = = = =
*kisses kitten on mouth. hard, deep, savage*
*hands fumble at kitten's shirt, trying to remove it*
= = = = = = = = =
* opens to the kiss, thrills to its animal urgency *
* doesn't help with the shirt, wants to feel the violence of his lust *
= = = = = = = = =
*impatiently removes kitten's shirt, popping buttons, ripping seams*
*having stripped her from the waist up, turns his attention to her nipples, testing their hardness with his tongue*
*hands run up and down her back, pushing her closer. . .closer. . . closer. . .*
= = = = = = = = =
* hips start rocking back and forth *
* eyes look up pleadingly *
* back arches, thrusting breasts up *
*thighs spread wider *
"please..."
= = = = = = = = =
*removes kitten's jeans and panties in one rough motion*
*leers suggestively at her obvious wetness*
*stands in front of her*
*grins evilly*
*gestures towards his erect cock*
= = = = = = = = =
* naked, slides off chair and rises up onto knees before him *
* in an attitude of worship, takes him into her mouth *
= = = = = = = = = = =
*cradles her head in his hands, as he gently thrusts in and out*
*trembles at the touch of her warm, skilled tongue and lips*
*gets harder and harder. . .*
= = = = = = = = =
* marvels at this sweet, powerful man who knows how to make love to her mouth without making her want to fight it *
* almost weeps at the feel, the taste, the hard cock, the soft skin, his tenderness, his force *
* licks the precious precum off the tip *
= = = = = = = = = = =
*looks his precious kitten in the eyes, as he whispers how special she is*
*fights to maintain control*
*gasps as he loses it*
= = = = = = = = =
* heart melts at his words, although she's heard them before, and will eventually believe them *
* can tell that he is about to cum *
* welcomes the passion that he shoots into her mouth *
* swallows with joy *
* in the background, Honeyboy Edwards sings: *
Pretty baby, can’t you ride with me tonight
Pretty baby, can’t you ride with me tonight
I want you to ride with me while the moon is shining bright
Pretty baby, don’t you like my automobile?
Pretty baby, don’t you like my automobile?
I want you to ride with me, baby, you know how good it make me feel.
Well, baby, can’t we feel good tonight?
Well, baby, can’t we feel good tonight?
Can’t we feel good while the moon is shining bright.
= = = = = = = = =
*collapses to knees as his legs fail him*
*lays his kitten back*
*spreads her legs*
*begins licking in long, slow strokes, tasting her wetness, swallowing her sweetness*
= = = = = = = =
[is touching allowed? please?!?]
* gives herself up to sensation *
* emits many moans and whimpers *
* reaches down to his red head, so like her own, starts to stroke his hair but soon is clutching at it, as he buries his mouth and tongue into her flooding gulf *
* isn't quite in this world *
= = = = = = = = = =
(are you naked?)
*warms to his task, flattening his tongue and licking hard and wide, then pointing it, and licking deep. . .DEEP*
*Grasps buttocks to control the bucking of his kitten's hips*
*licks more*
= = = = = = = = =
(yes, of course i'm naked! and desperate!!)
* LOTS more whimpering! *
* becomes even more excited when he takes control of her buttocks. Is always excited when he takes control of her body. when he impresses his ownership upon her. *
* moan and groans... *
"J---? i... "
= = = = = = = = = =
*rocks her hips back forth, in time with his tongue, each forward motion driving him deeper into her throbbing cunt*
*he ignores her panting and moaning, her attempts at speech*
*pulls his tongue out, and takes her clit in his mouth*
*sucks on it like a hard candy, enjoying her squeals of pleasure*
(Touch yourself kitten. . .do it. . .)
= = = = = = = =
yes, Master.
thank you, Master.
please...
= = = = = = =
* she cums with such loud cries that all up and down the block people stop what they are doing, and are seized with insurmountable lust. 9 months later, the street sees a baby boom that stumps statisticians. *
[i'm sorry, i meant to wait for the specific order to cum. but it was stronger than me. i was wetter than you have ever made me in all these 2 months. and now i'm lying here feeling your presence next to me. I can look up into your eyes. i feel your arms around me. we defy the laws of the universe...]
= = = = = = = =
*loses himself in the wild cries of his cumming kitten*
(I will forgive your illicit orgasm this time kitten. . .but just this once!)
= = = = = = = =
mmm....
* she smiles and snuggles *
= = = = = = = = =
*strokes his kitten’s head, rubs her belly, plants a row of kisses up and down her back*
= = = = = = = = = = =
* sighs deeply *
= = = = = = = = = = =
(are you still naked?)
= = = = = = = = = = =
(yes, of course. you didn't say i could get dressed…)
= = = = = = = = =
(Are you cold?)
= = = = = = = = =
(only a little. i went into the guest bedroom and am on the bed under
a blanket. Marko joined me and is working hard at giving himself a
bath. he must have been inspired by your descriptions of licking…)
= = = = = = = =
(Then I will keep you naked a bit longer)
*takes a great length of rope out from under the bed*
*shows it to his kitten*
*does not try to conceal his intentions*
= = = = = = = =
* startled out of her post-orgasm stupor by the sight of the rope, starts breathing heavily again *
* is both alarmed and aroused *
= = = = = = = =
*Stretches his kitten out on the bed, legs and arms spread wide*
*expertly ties each limb to the four corners of the bed*
*takes a moment to enjoy the look of bewilderment and anxiety on his kittens face*
*makes a big show of rummaging under the bed for a "special item"*
*finds it*
*shows it to kitten*
An ostrich feather.
= = = = = = = =
* panic! *
= = = = = = = = =
*grins yet again, even more wickedly than before*
*carefully scrutinizes the naked helpless body splayed out before him*
*takes his time deciding where to begin, pretending not to see the growing concern on his kitten's face*
*finally chooses*
*brings feather close to kitten's right foot. . .and gently tickles it*
= = = = = = = = =
"J---?!! Damn you, you sadistic Irish son-of-a bitch."
* struggles, but can't defeat his bondage expertise *
* also can't help noting that he is growing hard again *
= = = = = = = = =
*is frankly shocked at his kitten's foul mouth, and doesn't try to hide his disapproval*
*reacts swiftly, tickling her other foot. . .right on the most sensitive part of the sole*
*enjoys her helpless thrashing about*
= = = = = = = = =
"aaah - ow - stop - J--- this isn't fair - stop it you bastard - don't give me that look!"
"J---!!!"
* struggles, writhes, wriggles, begs, pleads, despite knowing it's no use. refuses to submit. *
= = = = = = = = =
*decides that if his little kitten is still cursing, his treatment must not be hard enough*
*turns his attention to her armpits*
*tickles her there, mercilessly*
= = = = = = = = =
*screams furiously *
"no no no no no!!!"
"J---? J---!! please, J---, please, Master, please stop torturing me!!"
= = = = = = = = =
*pauses, deciding whether to stop his torment, or continue*
*continues*
= = = = = = = =
* continues alternately screaming, begging, and cursing, not knowing what else to do and not being able to think straight anyway. And figuring he's going to do whatever he damn well pleases, no matter what she does. the downside to being a slave, not to mention being helplessly tied up. *
= = = = = = = = =
*continues until her throat is raw from sceaming*
*stops to let her catch her breath*
*sharpens the feather, cutting it with a pair of scissors*
*starts on the clit*
*learns a whole new bunch of curse words, listening to his kitten*
= = = = = = = = =
* suddenly gasps as her clit starts responding in spite of her. Stops cursing. starts rocking hips again *
= = = = = = = = = = =
*enjoys the sight of his kitten enjoying herself. . . even if it is against her will (or maybe because it's against her will)*
*continues his work*
*let's kitten know that if she wants to cum, she will have to beg*
= = = = = = = = =
* hates to give in and beg, especially after all the fuss she had been making *
* but loves to beg *
* and knows he loves making her beg, just as he loves tying her up, just as she loves being tied up *
* and in fact she would do anything to please him *
" J---? darling? Master?"
* whimpers and moans, can't help it *
"Master? please? pretty please? please let me cum. please... i'm trying very hard not to until you give permission but... oh god... it's becoming awfully hard for... ow! for me to keep from... uh! oh!... J---, PLEASE!!!"
= = = = = = = =
*considers carefully, stroking chin with index finger*
*denies permission*
*continues tickling*
= = = = = = = = =
* is at her wits' end *
"Please, Master.
i am your kitten.
i am your slave.
please.
tell me what you want of me.
i will do anything.
not that i have a choice, since i am your slave.
i belong to you.
my body belongs to you.
my soul belongs to you.
PLEASE!! tell me what you want of me!!
i will submit."
* weeps in frustration *
= = = = = = = = =
*unties his poor weeping kitten. . .but not our of tenderness or mercy*
After a bit of wrestling, has her tied up again, still spread eagle. .. but facing down this time*
*puts a pillow under her hips, causing her ass to thrust upwards*
*rummages under bed again, speculating out loud about the whereabouts of that purple dildo*
= = = = = = = =
[thinks - damn, working on his thesis sure brings out his evil streak, these are going to be a rough couple of chapters... good thing i like it when he's cruel... but still...]
"Shit! i mean, yes Master, whatever you want.
i am your ktiten.
i am your slave.
my body is yours to use and abuse as you wish.
but don't be surprised if the roof caves in when i cum again..."
= = = = = = = = = =
*lubes the dildo up good, letting his kitten watch*
*puts the very tip of the dildo between her buttocks*
*tells his kitten to count backwards from 5*
*when she reaches zero. . .THRUSTS*
= = = = = = = = =
"OOOWWW!!!"
"J---!!!!!!"
"ow ow ow oh please, that hurts, it's too big, oh god, oh please, oh why are you so cruel to me, oh shit, whatever i did to deserve this, i'm sorry, i'm sorry..."
* weeps bitterly *
* then finds her ass is starting to move back against the thrusts of the purple monster, and the tears are joined by moans, and she is getting wetter again *
* he has defeated her once more *
= = = = = = = = =
*fucks her ass, allowing his kitten to set the rhythm*
*smiles as he sees how much she enjoys it, all of it, the ropes the feather. . .the ravishing*
*when she is quite finished, having shouted her orgasm into the mattress, leans in close and whispers*
Who owns you, kitten?
= = = = = = = = = = =
* sobbing (this is for real), she whispers back *
You own me, J---.
You do.
You know you do.
= = = = = = = = = =
*smiles (really)*
*unties his kitten*
*rubs her arms and legs, getting the circulation flowing again*
*takes her into the shower, soaps her up, rinses her off*
*dries her with a fluffy warm towel*
*helps her into her nightgown*
*put her to bed*
Get dressed, kitten. Put on your nightgown for real.
= = = = = = = = = = =
can i get back into my clothes instead? i'd much rather put on my nightgown, but S. will be back any time and i'm supposed to be working on my chicken soup... there are a couple of pieces of chicken in the pot, but i have to get the rest of them in and the veggies and the water and render the chicken fat for chopped liver...
and oh my goodness, this was the most wonderful day... i DID feel like we were just being together for the longest time
you make me so happy that sometimes it scares me... but i wouldn't give it up for anything
don't ever forget that,
(damn, i forgot about calling my parents. all i could think of was that i was with you...)
= = = = = = = =
No bra, no panties.
I thought you had done the chicken soup; If I had known I would have insisted on its completion as a condition for orgasm.
Yes, this was a day well spent.
Go, cook, call your parents.
Talk to you tomorrow. . .
= = = = = = = =
no bra, no panties.
my parents will have to wait until tomorrow, it is late for them.
when things started heating up, i didn't want to interrupt the proceedings with talk of chicken soup. and i never thought it would go on this long. but it was lovely...
until tomorrow.
good night, Master.
= = = = = = = = = =
Good night, kitten.
= = = = = = = = = =
9:17 PM
It began with 2 e-mails from me on a Sunday morning. And then early that afternoon, I received the most delicate of messages...
**********************************************
April 1, 2007
April
The cats don't care about late night trysts.
Their needs are simple, their patience limited.
I am their slave, as I am yours. Without complaint.
Popcorn blossoms exploded over night.
Flannel crept up, exposing another bloom.
It is April. Life is irrepressible. I am yours.
= = = = =
What's really missing...
Do you know what the real problem is with a cyber relationship?
Well yes, of course, there's no actual physical contact, definitely a downside. Tho the sex does make me feel incredibly close to you, and while frustrating on one level is quite different and more fulfilling than mere masturbation.
But it's the silent companionship that we can't pull off. because we have to be writing back and forth in order to keep the connection open. I feel like I'm with you between messages, but it is still an active focus. No sitting together with coffee and bagels and the Sunday NY Times. No curling up with a book while you write a chapter. No watching a movie together.
I remember one time after N [my friend and former housemate] got her own apartment. I was watching one of our favorite TV shows ("House" probably) and called her right after the introductory segment. She knew it had to be me and picked up. We talked during the ads and then stayed on the line, watching together, making occasional comments and chatting thru the breaks.
So instead I just hold you inside me. Not the same. But still something precious.
i am your kitten.
i am your selkie.
and you make my life sweet.
= = = = = = =
12:20 PM
Comfortable Silence
. . .
= = = = =
mmm...
= = = = = =
. . .
= = = = = =
:->
= = = = = =
;-)
= = = = = =
mmm....
= = = = =
Cold here :-(
= = = = = =
'cause you need a snuggle...
= = = = = = =
:-)
= = = = = =
[visualize kitten crawling into your lap and licking your nose before curling up]
purrr....
= = = = = =
:-D
= = = = = = =
mreowr?
snuggle snuggle snuggle
purrrrrrr...
= = = = = = = =
*sighs with contentment*
= = = = = = = = =
ditto...
= = = = = = = =
*wonders what his kitten is wearing*
*If anything*
= = = = = = =
* thinks: God! He's incorrigible! *
:-)
[visualizes pink-purple long-sleeved Henley shirt, waffle fabric. Top 2 buttons undone. Reaches up and undoes a third button...]
[feels wet spot forming in crotch of blue panties under blue jeans. starts to burn as flames shoot out...]
= = = = = = =
*leers openly and unapologetically*
*stares very hard at kitten's chest, trying to see if her nipples are visible*
*places one hand on kitten's thigh*
= = = = = = = =
groan....
[ if they weren't visible before, they sure are now. ]
* removes bra to improve the view *
* puts shirt back on because S--- [current and virginal young housemate] is home for now, before heading down to Virginia for the usual Sunday night dinner with best friend and family. *
= = = = = = =
*grumbles under his breath about S---*
*slowly moves hand up thigh*
*licks lips at the sight of your rigid nipples*
= = = = = = =
* starts breathing faster *
* thighs open of own accord *
* HUGE wet spot appears in jeans *
* eyes become unfocused *
= = = = = = = =
*kneels down in front of kitten*
*undoes button, zipper on jeans*
*puts hands on both thighs*
*starts rubbing*
= = = = = = = =
[S--- pops in to chat about her progress in cleaning her bathroom and how the entire Irish side of her family is alcoholic. says she'll be back between 9 and 10. and leaves.]
indefinable sounds, little whimpers
* leans back in chair, hands lying limply on armrests *
resistance is futile
* blues plays in background while Marko, neutered, tries to rape his sister *
= = = = = = =
*shrugs, silently agreeing with S---’s appraisal of the Irish*
*grins wickedly*
*begins to tug jeans down, over hips*
= = = = = = = =
* raises eyes, gazes openly and unapologetically at delicious magnificence rising before her *
* mouth waters *
* pussy waters *
* breath comes even faster *
* grins back *
= = = = = = = = =
*kisses kitten on mouth. hard, deep, savage*
*hands fumble at kitten's shirt, trying to remove it*
= = = = = = = = =
* opens to the kiss, thrills to its animal urgency *
* doesn't help with the shirt, wants to feel the violence of his lust *
= = = = = = = = =
*impatiently removes kitten's shirt, popping buttons, ripping seams*
*having stripped her from the waist up, turns his attention to her nipples, testing their hardness with his tongue*
*hands run up and down her back, pushing her closer. . .closer. . . closer. . .*
= = = = = = = = =
* hips start rocking back and forth *
* eyes look up pleadingly *
* back arches, thrusting breasts up *
*thighs spread wider *
"please..."
= = = = = = = = =
*removes kitten's jeans and panties in one rough motion*
*leers suggestively at her obvious wetness*
*stands in front of her*
*grins evilly*
*gestures towards his erect cock*
= = = = = = = = =
* naked, slides off chair and rises up onto knees before him *
* in an attitude of worship, takes him into her mouth *
= = = = = = = = = = =
*cradles her head in his hands, as he gently thrusts in and out*
*trembles at the touch of her warm, skilled tongue and lips*
*gets harder and harder. . .*
= = = = = = = = =
* marvels at this sweet, powerful man who knows how to make love to her mouth without making her want to fight it *
* almost weeps at the feel, the taste, the hard cock, the soft skin, his tenderness, his force *
* licks the precious precum off the tip *
= = = = = = = = = = =
*looks his precious kitten in the eyes, as he whispers how special she is*
*fights to maintain control*
*gasps as he loses it*
= = = = = = = = =
* heart melts at his words, although she's heard them before, and will eventually believe them *
* can tell that he is about to cum *
* welcomes the passion that he shoots into her mouth *
* swallows with joy *
* in the background, Honeyboy Edwards sings: *
Pretty baby, can’t you ride with me tonight
Pretty baby, can’t you ride with me tonight
I want you to ride with me while the moon is shining bright
Pretty baby, don’t you like my automobile?
Pretty baby, don’t you like my automobile?
I want you to ride with me, baby, you know how good it make me feel.
Well, baby, can’t we feel good tonight?
Well, baby, can’t we feel good tonight?
Can’t we feel good while the moon is shining bright.
= = = = = = = = =
*collapses to knees as his legs fail him*
*lays his kitten back*
*spreads her legs*
*begins licking in long, slow strokes, tasting her wetness, swallowing her sweetness*
= = = = = = = =
[is touching allowed? please?!?]
* gives herself up to sensation *
* emits many moans and whimpers *
* reaches down to his red head, so like her own, starts to stroke his hair but soon is clutching at it, as he buries his mouth and tongue into her flooding gulf *
* isn't quite in this world *
= = = = = = = = = =
(are you naked?)
*warms to his task, flattening his tongue and licking hard and wide, then pointing it, and licking deep. . .DEEP*
*Grasps buttocks to control the bucking of his kitten's hips*
*licks more*
= = = = = = = = =
(yes, of course i'm naked! and desperate!!)
* LOTS more whimpering! *
* becomes even more excited when he takes control of her buttocks. Is always excited when he takes control of her body. when he impresses his ownership upon her. *
* moan and groans... *
"J---? i... "
= = = = = = = = = =
*rocks her hips back forth, in time with his tongue, each forward motion driving him deeper into her throbbing cunt*
*he ignores her panting and moaning, her attempts at speech*
*pulls his tongue out, and takes her clit in his mouth*
*sucks on it like a hard candy, enjoying her squeals of pleasure*
(Touch yourself kitten. . .do it. . .)
= = = = = = = =
yes, Master.
thank you, Master.
please...
= = = = = = =
* she cums with such loud cries that all up and down the block people stop what they are doing, and are seized with insurmountable lust. 9 months later, the street sees a baby boom that stumps statisticians. *
[i'm sorry, i meant to wait for the specific order to cum. but it was stronger than me. i was wetter than you have ever made me in all these 2 months. and now i'm lying here feeling your presence next to me. I can look up into your eyes. i feel your arms around me. we defy the laws of the universe...]
= = = = = = = =
*loses himself in the wild cries of his cumming kitten*
(I will forgive your illicit orgasm this time kitten. . .but just this once!)
= = = = = = = =
mmm....
* she smiles and snuggles *
= = = = = = = = =
*strokes his kitten’s head, rubs her belly, plants a row of kisses up and down her back*
= = = = = = = = = = =
* sighs deeply *
= = = = = = = = = = =
(are you still naked?)
= = = = = = = = = = =
(yes, of course. you didn't say i could get dressed…)
= = = = = = = = =
(Are you cold?)
= = = = = = = = =
(only a little. i went into the guest bedroom and am on the bed under
a blanket. Marko joined me and is working hard at giving himself a
bath. he must have been inspired by your descriptions of licking…)
= = = = = = = =
(Then I will keep you naked a bit longer)
*takes a great length of rope out from under the bed*
*shows it to his kitten*
*does not try to conceal his intentions*
= = = = = = = =
* startled out of her post-orgasm stupor by the sight of the rope, starts breathing heavily again *
* is both alarmed and aroused *
= = = = = = = =
*Stretches his kitten out on the bed, legs and arms spread wide*
*expertly ties each limb to the four corners of the bed*
*takes a moment to enjoy the look of bewilderment and anxiety on his kittens face*
*makes a big show of rummaging under the bed for a "special item"*
*finds it*
*shows it to kitten*
An ostrich feather.
= = = = = = = =
* panic! *
= = = = = = = = =
*grins yet again, even more wickedly than before*
*carefully scrutinizes the naked helpless body splayed out before him*
*takes his time deciding where to begin, pretending not to see the growing concern on his kitten's face*
*finally chooses*
*brings feather close to kitten's right foot. . .and gently tickles it*
= = = = = = = = =
"J---?!! Damn you, you sadistic Irish son-of-a bitch."
* struggles, but can't defeat his bondage expertise *
* also can't help noting that he is growing hard again *
= = = = = = = = =
*is frankly shocked at his kitten's foul mouth, and doesn't try to hide his disapproval*
*reacts swiftly, tickling her other foot. . .right on the most sensitive part of the sole*
*enjoys her helpless thrashing about*
= = = = = = = = =
"aaah - ow - stop - J--- this isn't fair - stop it you bastard - don't give me that look!"
"J---!!!"
* struggles, writhes, wriggles, begs, pleads, despite knowing it's no use. refuses to submit. *
= = = = = = = = =
*decides that if his little kitten is still cursing, his treatment must not be hard enough*
*turns his attention to her armpits*
*tickles her there, mercilessly*
= = = = = = = = =
*screams furiously *
"no no no no no!!!"
"J---? J---!! please, J---, please, Master, please stop torturing me!!"
= = = = = = = = =
*pauses, deciding whether to stop his torment, or continue*
*continues*
= = = = = = = =
* continues alternately screaming, begging, and cursing, not knowing what else to do and not being able to think straight anyway. And figuring he's going to do whatever he damn well pleases, no matter what she does. the downside to being a slave, not to mention being helplessly tied up. *
= = = = = = = = =
*continues until her throat is raw from sceaming*
*stops to let her catch her breath*
*sharpens the feather, cutting it with a pair of scissors*
*starts on the clit*
*learns a whole new bunch of curse words, listening to his kitten*
= = = = = = = = =
* suddenly gasps as her clit starts responding in spite of her. Stops cursing. starts rocking hips again *
= = = = = = = = = = =
*enjoys the sight of his kitten enjoying herself. . . even if it is against her will (or maybe because it's against her will)*
*continues his work*
*let's kitten know that if she wants to cum, she will have to beg*
= = = = = = = = =
* hates to give in and beg, especially after all the fuss she had been making *
* but loves to beg *
* and knows he loves making her beg, just as he loves tying her up, just as she loves being tied up *
* and in fact she would do anything to please him *
" J---? darling? Master?"
* whimpers and moans, can't help it *
"Master? please? pretty please? please let me cum. please... i'm trying very hard not to until you give permission but... oh god... it's becoming awfully hard for... ow! for me to keep from... uh! oh!... J---, PLEASE!!!"
= = = = = = = =
*considers carefully, stroking chin with index finger*
*denies permission*
*continues tickling*
= = = = = = = = =
* is at her wits' end *
"Please, Master.
i am your kitten.
i am your slave.
please.
tell me what you want of me.
i will do anything.
not that i have a choice, since i am your slave.
i belong to you.
my body belongs to you.
my soul belongs to you.
PLEASE!! tell me what you want of me!!
i will submit."
* weeps in frustration *
= = = = = = = = =
*unties his poor weeping kitten. . .but not our of tenderness or mercy*
After a bit of wrestling, has her tied up again, still spread eagle. .. but facing down this time*
*puts a pillow under her hips, causing her ass to thrust upwards*
*rummages under bed again, speculating out loud about the whereabouts of that purple dildo*
= = = = = = = =
[thinks - damn, working on his thesis sure brings out his evil streak, these are going to be a rough couple of chapters... good thing i like it when he's cruel... but still...]
"Shit! i mean, yes Master, whatever you want.
i am your ktiten.
i am your slave.
my body is yours to use and abuse as you wish.
but don't be surprised if the roof caves in when i cum again..."
= = = = = = = = = =
*lubes the dildo up good, letting his kitten watch*
*puts the very tip of the dildo between her buttocks*
*tells his kitten to count backwards from 5*
*when she reaches zero. . .THRUSTS*
= = = = = = = = =
"OOOWWW!!!"
"J---!!!!!!"
"ow ow ow oh please, that hurts, it's too big, oh god, oh please, oh why are you so cruel to me, oh shit, whatever i did to deserve this, i'm sorry, i'm sorry..."
* weeps bitterly *
* then finds her ass is starting to move back against the thrusts of the purple monster, and the tears are joined by moans, and she is getting wetter again *
* he has defeated her once more *
= = = = = = = = =
*fucks her ass, allowing his kitten to set the rhythm*
*smiles as he sees how much she enjoys it, all of it, the ropes the feather. . .the ravishing*
*when she is quite finished, having shouted her orgasm into the mattress, leans in close and whispers*
Who owns you, kitten?
= = = = = = = = = = =
* sobbing (this is for real), she whispers back *
You own me, J---.
You do.
You know you do.
= = = = = = = = = =
*smiles (really)*
*unties his kitten*
*rubs her arms and legs, getting the circulation flowing again*
*takes her into the shower, soaps her up, rinses her off*
*dries her with a fluffy warm towel*
*helps her into her nightgown*
*put her to bed*
Get dressed, kitten. Put on your nightgown for real.
= = = = = = = = = = =
can i get back into my clothes instead? i'd much rather put on my nightgown, but S. will be back any time and i'm supposed to be working on my chicken soup... there are a couple of pieces of chicken in the pot, but i have to get the rest of them in and the veggies and the water and render the chicken fat for chopped liver...
and oh my goodness, this was the most wonderful day... i DID feel like we were just being together for the longest time
you make me so happy that sometimes it scares me... but i wouldn't give it up for anything
don't ever forget that,
(damn, i forgot about calling my parents. all i could think of was that i was with you...)
= = = = = = = =
No bra, no panties.
I thought you had done the chicken soup; If I had known I would have insisted on its completion as a condition for orgasm.
Yes, this was a day well spent.
Go, cook, call your parents.
Talk to you tomorrow. . .
= = = = = = = =
no bra, no panties.
my parents will have to wait until tomorrow, it is late for them.
when things started heating up, i didn't want to interrupt the proceedings with talk of chicken soup. and i never thought it would go on this long. but it was lovely...
until tomorrow.
good night, Master.
= = = = = = = = = =
Good night, kitten.
= = = = = = = = = =
9:17 PM
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