Saturday, October 18, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Fiction: Prelude to a Bath.
The girl known as kei rose softly to her hands and knees upon her Master's soft furs. Her lush breasts swayed beneath her, still tender from her Master's savage sucking the night before; her thighs - still coated with his seed. The girl looked admiringly upon him, sleeping, dreaming. She found her slave heart full of lust for the Warrior who had taken her like an animal the night before, who had used her, who had deposited his seed deep within. Her soft shaven sex quivered. The girl known as kei did not yet know her boundaries. She only knew she wanted the Master who lay sleeping at her breast. The girl lowered her head, her lips, to her Master's chest, covering it with sweet small kisses. Her buttocks remained thrust high in the air; her damp thighs spread naturally. Her Master stirred.
Her Master didn't speak, but she felt his hand on her heated body, groping, stroking. He squeezed her breasts roughly, and tugged hard on her nipples. The girl whimpered. His nails scraped her hard belly before he dug his hand into her aching sex. Without shame, the girl lowered herself upon her Master's firm hand, slithering along its hardness, riding it, moaning.
Her Master groaned and pulled away. The girl's hot face fell to the furs below as she felt him move up and behind her, one hand using her small body for support, that body giving only slightly to his weight. Her soft round slave bottom remained thrust high in the morning air, her sticky thighs remained spread ... her desire fully exposed for the Master's waking eyes.
Silence fell across the room. The girl felt her Master's eyes upon her while his hand moved gently in circles around her firm ass. Forever seemed to pass before he spoke. And then he growled:
"You woke me up for THIS??"
{{{{WHACK}}}} The girl felt her Master's hand come down hard and heavy against her ass. She cried out in pain and surprise, her breath disappearing into the thick furs. But before she could recover, before she could recapture her breath, she felt her Master's body slam into hers with a loud grunt, his Manhood burying itself deeply inside her still-tender sex.
When her Master was spent, when his seed had once again filled the slut's sex and spilled out, when the wanton girl had submitted totally and fallen limp to his hand, when all of these things had happened, the room fell silent again except for the Master's heavy breathing. The girl known as kei slipped quietly from the room, leaving her Master to sleep.
kei walked naked into the great room, her breasts bouncing lightly as she moved. She went quickly to check the fire, the ice, and other matters of the morning. And she tended to the laundry that sat in a small pile in the back room. Chores done, she tended to herself.
kei filled a basin with warm soapy water and began to wash. She dipped her face in the bowl first, cleaning away any traces of sweet sweat that might linger there. She ran a wet rep rag over the rest of her body. She wiped her breasts gently - tender and sore - discovering last night's visible teeth marks for the first time - low and near her left nipple. Her lips curved into a small smile. She dipped the cloth back into the soapy water and wrung it out again, placing it softly against her sensitive and well used sex and the insides of her unmarked thighs. Reluctantly, she cleaned away the sticky trail left there by her Master, telling herself the trail would be travelled again soon enough.
When the girl felt fresh and clean she replaced the used water with fresh water and washed her thick hair. Finally, she sat by the fire to dry her naked body in its warmth, to comb and brush her dark hair in long strokes. A clean white silk lay at her feet.
And another day had come.
One of my Recurring Fantasies...
Is to have a party game where my slave is blindfolded and has identify my friends...by taste. If she's right she gets...rewarded. If she's wrong...well that's what riding crops are for.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Found on the Web...
I have a strong preference for "real life" submissives as opposed to airbrushed models who don't seem to have any idea what this is all about. Authenticity is the key. I guess I'll always be more attracted to the "girl next door" who's in to what I'm into. Supermodels leave me cold.More to come.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Fiction: In the Gorean Slave Market.
It is a warm day in the slave markets. I am here to be sold. The man who owns me is a Slaver. He saw me in the streets and thought I would bring him a good price. I never knew he was watching as I shopped at the open-air markets of Boston, until I was grabbed and pushed into his wagon. My cries were lost in the sounds of merchants hawking their wares and all I knew disappeared that afternoon.
This is my life now and I can barely remember the time before. I have been with him for nearly a month under going the basic training for my new life. He has not been unkind to me and I have tried hard to avoid the whip and to learn the skills of my new position. Yesterday he said I might finally be of interest to a Master. I have seen other girls bought and sold-today it is my turn.
I kneel chained to a large pillar by a cuff around my left ankle and my hands are fastened behind my back in black leather cuffs connected by a chain. My pale skin is patterned by shadows as the sun moves higher in the sky. Usually I wear a short cloth tunic, but it was taken from early this morning. Slaves, I was told, are always sold nude. My long hair is tied back with a strip of black leather.
Suddenly, I hear the Slaver's voice; he is talking to a stranger. He says, "This is the only red-haired female I have at this time. She is new to the collar, but not uninteresting."
The stranger says, "May I examine her?"
His voice is very quiet and sure. I can not help trembling at the sound of his voice. This is the first customer of the day. I want to belong to a Master, to be able to give everything I am to Him, to serve Him. Keeping my eyes to the ground as I have been trained to do, I wonder if this will be Him.
The Slaver says, "Yes, you may. Let me know if you want the keys to her chains." He leaves to attend to other buyers, so I am alone with this stranger. I bite my bottom lips slightly, a little frightened.
He says, "Look at me, pretty slave"
I timidly lift my head, raising my eyes to his. "Y-yes Sir." He is tall, dark-haired. It is hard to meet his eyes. He makes me feel very vulnerable and small. I can feel the color rushing to my cheek as He looks at me. He smiles at my blush and reaches out to stroke the side of my face with the back of his hand.
My breath catches in my throat at his touch and I flinch slightly as his hand moves the strip of leather holding my hair back. With a quick tug the leather is gone and he spreads my long hair all along my shoulders. Then his hand returns runs along my cheeks. I moan softly at the light touch, and unbidden, turn to press my soft lips to his palm.
He says, "Very nice, slave."
His hand slides slowly down my down my chest, chuckling low in his throat as he reaches my erect nipples. Cupping the soft mounds in his hands, rubs the hardening nipples with his thumbs.
"You are quite responsive, aren't you?"
I whimper at his words, shifting my position, opening myself more completely to his touch. Smiling his hands slips down over my flat stomach to the apex of my thighs. His fingers tease the short auburn curls and probe the soft flesh. He whispers in my ear, "You're so hot and wet, such a helpless slave, wanting to serve."
He continues speaking to me in that soft, commanding voice as he caresses me intimately, "Tell me, what is the one unforgivable thing a slave can do?"
I arch, rocking helplessly trying to press against his hand, hardly able to answer. But he is patient, his fingers hard and firm against my softness. As he waits for my words. Finally, I manage to answer, my voice is a soft whisper sharp-edged with passion, "....to lie to .....her Master....Sir" I hope desperately that my answer pleases him, but I'm not sure whether it will or not.
One hand encircles my throat for a long moment. I know he can feel the frantic beating of my pulse underneath his fingers. Despite the chain holding me in place, I want to run. I am frightened by the look in his eyes. He looks at me so intently, as if he would see clear through to my soul.
He says nothing, just continues caressing me, my breasts, stomach, lower still, between my thighs. "Don't look away," he commands. I am caught in his gaze, knowing he can see the need, the wanting there in my wide eyes.
I am squirming now from his touch; he knows well how to use a slave-girl. Evidence of my arousal coats his fingers and glistens on the pale skin of my inner thighs. My breathing is ragged, my skin is flushed, all I can do is whimper in need. His warm hands tease and caress my hot flesh, one hand continuing to stroke my breasts and pinch my nipples, the other rubbing my swollen, aching clit so very lightly, making me sob and close my eyes.
"Look at me, slave-girl, show me your need, writhe for me little one." As he continues, his words flow over me, and I don't really understand what he is saying. All I know is that he is a Master, and I am a slave, and I want to serve him.
His touch brings me closer and closer to the edge. Helplessly trying to press against his hand, I am crying and begging him for release, knowing I must wait for his permission. Deep in my slave belly, every muscle is coiled spring-tight in response to his touch. Finally after what seems an eternity, I hear his voice. He says, "Cum for me, slave-girl"
At his words I cry out, and cumming, shaking, trembling, my body responses to the release. He continues to touch me, making me spasm again and again, until my muscles are shaking with the strain. Finally, he stops, and I fall against him, sobbing, weak and utterly spent. After a few moments I stop crying and can breathe again, but I am in a daze...I can't think, much less talk or move.
He smiles down at me, collapsed at his feet. I don't understand his words at first, but he smiles softly and repeats them, making sure that I do understand. He says, "I think it is time to ask the Slaver for the key to your chains."
This is my life now and I can barely remember the time before. I have been with him for nearly a month under going the basic training for my new life. He has not been unkind to me and I have tried hard to avoid the whip and to learn the skills of my new position. Yesterday he said I might finally be of interest to a Master. I have seen other girls bought and sold-today it is my turn.
I kneel chained to a large pillar by a cuff around my left ankle and my hands are fastened behind my back in black leather cuffs connected by a chain. My pale skin is patterned by shadows as the sun moves higher in the sky. Usually I wear a short cloth tunic, but it was taken from early this morning. Slaves, I was told, are always sold nude. My long hair is tied back with a strip of black leather.
Suddenly, I hear the Slaver's voice; he is talking to a stranger. He says, "This is the only red-haired female I have at this time. She is new to the collar, but not uninteresting."
The stranger says, "May I examine her?"
His voice is very quiet and sure. I can not help trembling at the sound of his voice. This is the first customer of the day. I want to belong to a Master, to be able to give everything I am to Him, to serve Him. Keeping my eyes to the ground as I have been trained to do, I wonder if this will be Him.
The Slaver says, "Yes, you may. Let me know if you want the keys to her chains." He leaves to attend to other buyers, so I am alone with this stranger. I bite my bottom lips slightly, a little frightened.
He says, "Look at me, pretty slave"
I timidly lift my head, raising my eyes to his. "Y-yes Sir." He is tall, dark-haired. It is hard to meet his eyes. He makes me feel very vulnerable and small. I can feel the color rushing to my cheek as He looks at me. He smiles at my blush and reaches out to stroke the side of my face with the back of his hand.
My breath catches in my throat at his touch and I flinch slightly as his hand moves the strip of leather holding my hair back. With a quick tug the leather is gone and he spreads my long hair all along my shoulders. Then his hand returns runs along my cheeks. I moan softly at the light touch, and unbidden, turn to press my soft lips to his palm.
He says, "Very nice, slave."
His hand slides slowly down my down my chest, chuckling low in his throat as he reaches my erect nipples. Cupping the soft mounds in his hands, rubs the hardening nipples with his thumbs.
"You are quite responsive, aren't you?"
I whimper at his words, shifting my position, opening myself more completely to his touch. Smiling his hands slips down over my flat stomach to the apex of my thighs. His fingers tease the short auburn curls and probe the soft flesh. He whispers in my ear, "You're so hot and wet, such a helpless slave, wanting to serve."
He continues speaking to me in that soft, commanding voice as he caresses me intimately, "Tell me, what is the one unforgivable thing a slave can do?"
I arch, rocking helplessly trying to press against his hand, hardly able to answer. But he is patient, his fingers hard and firm against my softness. As he waits for my words. Finally, I manage to answer, my voice is a soft whisper sharp-edged with passion, "....to lie to .....her Master....Sir" I hope desperately that my answer pleases him, but I'm not sure whether it will or not.
One hand encircles my throat for a long moment. I know he can feel the frantic beating of my pulse underneath his fingers. Despite the chain holding me in place, I want to run. I am frightened by the look in his eyes. He looks at me so intently, as if he would see clear through to my soul.
He says nothing, just continues caressing me, my breasts, stomach, lower still, between my thighs. "Don't look away," he commands. I am caught in his gaze, knowing he can see the need, the wanting there in my wide eyes.
I am squirming now from his touch; he knows well how to use a slave-girl. Evidence of my arousal coats his fingers and glistens on the pale skin of my inner thighs. My breathing is ragged, my skin is flushed, all I can do is whimper in need. His warm hands tease and caress my hot flesh, one hand continuing to stroke my breasts and pinch my nipples, the other rubbing my swollen, aching clit so very lightly, making me sob and close my eyes.
"Look at me, slave-girl, show me your need, writhe for me little one." As he continues, his words flow over me, and I don't really understand what he is saying. All I know is that he is a Master, and I am a slave, and I want to serve him.
His touch brings me closer and closer to the edge. Helplessly trying to press against his hand, I am crying and begging him for release, knowing I must wait for his permission. Deep in my slave belly, every muscle is coiled spring-tight in response to his touch. Finally after what seems an eternity, I hear his voice. He says, "Cum for me, slave-girl"
At his words I cry out, and cumming, shaking, trembling, my body responses to the release. He continues to touch me, making me spasm again and again, until my muscles are shaking with the strain. Finally, he stops, and I fall against him, sobbing, weak and utterly spent. After a few moments I stop crying and can breathe again, but I am in a daze...I can't think, much less talk or move.
He smiles down at me, collapsed at his feet. I don't understand his words at first, but he smiles softly and repeats them, making sure that I do understand. He says, "I think it is time to ask the Slaver for the key to your chains."
Cunt:Etymology & Use of a Taboo Word.
The etymology of the word cunt is as disputed as its use in polite society. Not only is it one of the dozen major taboo words currently in English, cunt is for the majority of English-speaking women in the West the most loathsome of all vulgarisms.
When the word’s profane thunder hammers the tin of an English sentence, women hear the hateful and total dismissal of what Goethe called “the eternal feminine.”
Men, on the other hand, recognize something dark and redolent of body truth in cunt’s repellent monosyllabic starkness: namely, the male imperative to penetrate, ejaculate, and then make for the hills as quickly as possible in the hopes of chancing upon yet another opportunity to spread their insistent seed. No violins or perfumed love couches hover near the word. Cunt is a sex word with the romantic cloak of mutuality and lovingness flung off. This is also why men employ the word as one of the most frequent insults directed at women.
When the word’s profane thunder hammers the tin of an English sentence, women hear the hateful and total dismissal of what Goethe called “the eternal feminine.”
Men, on the other hand, recognize something dark and redolent of body truth in cunt’s repellent monosyllabic starkness: namely, the male imperative to penetrate, ejaculate, and then make for the hills as quickly as possible in the hopes of chancing upon yet another opportunity to spread their insistent seed. No violins or perfumed love couches hover near the word. Cunt is a sex word with the romantic cloak of mutuality and lovingness flung off. This is also why men employ the word as one of the most frequent insults directed at women.
Adrianna Nicole, Also Known as Seven and Petal Benson...One of my Favorites.
This is her by the third day of her training.
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