Ruby....love those stories....very hot and erotic!....thank you so much for sharing them in a place where us broke people can read and enjoy them too!
~~nibbles~~
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Ruby....love those stories....very hot and erotic!....thank you so much for sharing them in a place where us broke people can read and enjoy them too!
~~nibbles~~
You are most welcome, nibbles. :kiss: It's my pleasure.
Best served chilled
Alex woke abruptly in the wee hours of the morning. She pulled her robe on over her pajamas and stepped over to the bedroom window. The moon was full and had just breasted the horizon giving the illusion that it filled half the sky. Clouds scudded across it's face at a hurried pace. ( nope not a dark stormy night Chuck)
Then she heard the howling that had wakened her. Damn that stupid mutt, he'd slipped off his collar three days ago but he came back here to howl each night. The neighbors were beginning to complain. With a sigh Alex pulled on her shoes and headed out to the back yard. Lews was sitting there howling at the moon and wagging his tail.
" Come on you mangy mutt! Get your butt in the house right now! I don't have time for this shit."
She could barely see the tan colored Mastiff sitting at the edge of the property, tail thumping the ground as he watched her. Maybe a little gentler approach might work better..
" Such a good dog Lewsy, come on boy, it's alright, come to Alex."
She was about a dozen paces away when he hopped up and loped off into the night. Alex was infuriated by his defiance and sprinted after the useless beast. Moonlight peeked through the clouds and she spotted him again sitting about fifty feet ahead. Alex broke into a jog. Just as her hand was closing on the scruff of his neck he popped up and trotted off again.
Alex was enraged, but even so this made no sense. She wasn't a coward, but Alex wasn't a fool either. Why was she chasing this worthless dog around in the middle of the night? The frustrating game seemed to go on endlessly. They were in the woods now; woods that Alex couldn't quite place as anywhere near her neighborhood. It was time to give up this wild goose chase and head back to bed. It was then that she saw the flicker of movement off to her right, and there again another on her left.
She turned to head back toward her home only to be confronted with a pair of English sheep dogs that had been trailing twenty feet behind her. When she turned toward them one of the pair darted straight at her turning at the last moment to slam his body into her with enough force to knock Alex to the ground.
Stunned Alex rose to her feet. The two sheep dogs were sitting between her and the pathway home. When she took a step in their direction they both rose, baring teeth and growling. Shaken Alex turned in the direction she had been heading and noticed the two other dogs a black furred Newfy to her left and A wiry haired gray Irish wolfhound to her right. The four of them were definitely herding her. She could make out Lews in the distance waiting for the others to catch up. She was forced to run with the pack that followed Lews, when she slowed the sheepdogs nipped at her heels hurrying her along.
They came to an open field. Lews stopped, facing 6 new dogs that sat in a semi-circle the largest appeared to be a Great Dane. The four dogs that had been herding her drove Alex right past Lews and then formed a half circle behind him as Alex was left trembling between the two groups. She watched in horror as eleven dogs closed to complete the circle around her.
" You sit in my place Bruno." Lews said
" You were gone through a complete moon, the pack must be led." The Great Dane replied. His head tilted toward you inquisitively. " You have given her sight Lews. Is that wise?"
The Mastiff growled in response, Alex realized the entire conversation was taking place in growls,pants yips and though the position of the tail, the twitch of the ears, the tilt of the head, and yes the scent all these combined to form a language as expressive as the Queens English; but there was no way she should be able to understand any of it.
"She has offended me and held me from my pack. I would have her answer to the…" No word covered it exactly something like hunter, protector, male circle, perhaps fathers was a close approximation but it had nothing to do with paternity."…Council. And I felt it best she understand what is spoken of her."
For the first time she noticed the eleven dogs are all male.
" You are generous Lews or maybe the bitch has made you grow soft."
The Great Dane and the Mastiff were circling now each growling with head low to the ground crouching as if ready to spring forward in attack. Finally the Dane sat down with an audible huff.
"Strip her Lews we can't judge her if she hides her scent."
Lews spoke from behind Alex.
" Strip girl, you must be as naked and kneeling while you are being judged."
Alex had no intention of striping for these animals; but even as these defiant thoughts formed pictures sprung up in her mind Slashing jaws, shredded clothing, and oozing wounds. Animals piling onto her squirming body. It was enough. Alex pulled the PJ tops off over her head then wiggled out of the pants.
" And the paws."
Alex kicked off the shoes and shuddered as she dropped to her hands and knees.
" This one held me, kept me from the pack" Lews began, pictures formed of a cave/den with the entrance blocked the animals growled in fear and anger feeling trapped. " Then she shunned me, did not speak to me, left me alone for over half a moon." This brought even angrier growls. The pack was a social organization and isolation was a worse fate than imprisonment.
Alex trembled naked on her hands and knees while the beasts circled listening, feeling, seeing, Lews tale of torment. She began to feel the reactions, pushed onto her back, jaws clutching blood blossoming from a mauled throat. Alex cried out for pity.
"Enough Lews, she is no threat to the pack now." It was the Great Dane, Bruno "We should not poison the field with bitter blood, we will find another way."
Lews growled, " I am back Bruno, do you challenge me?" there is a moment of tense silence. Bruno bows his head, Lews continued.
"If one of us." nodding to the four beasts behind him," bites her she will become a shifter like us. If you give her the curse of Cain's mark she will become an outcast among man and beast. That I find fitting. Who will challenge me?"
The question passes and none challenge but the Great Dane, sniffed the air then pads toward Alex sniffing at her.
" She's in heat Lews!" The others shift uncomfortably and Alex can see their growing excitement.
" Human bitches are always in heat. She is just trying to delay her punishment." Lews claims but Bruno is insistent. " She needs us, even you can smell that." Lews is impatient and angered but she sees he's growing large along with the others.
" She's my Bitch!" he growls as the two circle once again on the verge of conflict. Bruno is taller and heavier but the Mastiff has powerful jaws, a solid build and he towers over the cowering Alex who has instinctively rolled onto her back in a submissive canine posture. Bruno considers the stakes, the prize, the peace within the pack and decides to back down and preserve the packs unity.
Alex can see Lews is excited as he stands over her letting out a victorious howl. She is resigned to his using her and she rolls over underneath him. Fur presses against her back and he growls with need. Then her mind sees the thoughts of the others. They will all have her, Lews demand was only to be that he be first. She began to scream as his jaws closed on her shoulder shaking her like a rag doll.
The shaking continued, a distant voice, a human voice.
"Alex! Wake up, you're dreaming again." :D
Thanx Alex,
Mad Lews
Great stories everyone!!
Ruby- I can only imagine it's difficult writing of a character that is so despicable. You do it well! Sure does make you want to just smack him though!!!
Oh Mad... hee hee... so so so Mad! Poor, poor Alex... ;) *waits in anticipation to Alex's rebuttal*
Sir Chuck- yes, a dark side indeed :) Very well done.
Thanks for the stories everyone.
Alas, this is just my real dream time-- I always wake up just at the good bits. *gg*Quote:
Originally Posted by Mad Lews
Seriously, though, I'm not a huge fan of bestiality, but you did do a good job with this one, Mad. Well done. I enjoyed it!
Now let me get this straight Alex, a month ago you throw a collar on poor Lewsy, declare him your slut puppy, claim he's a decent fuck even if he is a bit unrurly. :dunno:Quote:
Originally Posted by Alex Bragi
Then you stop talking to the poor little pup for three weeks!! :confused:
Now you tell us you're not a huge fan of animal play? As the Noble Bruno would say " You bipeds sure do make life complicated." You can understand how a Pup might get a bit confused. :p
Prehaps a short story might help clear this up.
Mad
*Pats and an affectionate little scratch behind your ear*Quote:
Originally Posted by Mad Lews
Mad, you were never in the dog house. All you ever have to do is beg for a little attention.*gg*
But seriously, let's not confuse puppy play with bestiality. I won't hijack your thread here, instead, I'm going to begin a whole new one- "Animal play verses bestiality". In fact I may even throw in zoophiles (spel?) too, just for good measure. :)
Well to be technical we would be confusing bestiality with Lycanthropy, and in fact really dreams about Lycanthropy, but there were uncomfortable insinuations about bestiality no doubt. Just the kind of thing puppies might be dreaming about as they sniff at your legQuote:
Originally Posted by Alex Bragi
will try to be less offensive but I am a bit mad so you can't expect too much.
Your
Lews
Lycanthropy?
And, please be as mad and offensive as you like. I'll slap you on your ass with a rolled up newspaper if you get too out of hand. *gg*
Mad_Lews,
Loved the story right up until the part where you decided to share Alex.
Seriously, man, wouldn't you just want to keep her all to yourself?
What a nightmare. Your were-dogs are quite naughty and fun.
Thanks! :kiss:
Sorry Ruby,Quote:
Originally Posted by Ruby
Rules of the pack and all. While I might be a greedy SOB and want her all to myself, even the alpha male wouldn't have much choice in that situation. It seemed like a good time to wake up poor lil' Alex.
Mad
That was a great story Mad!.....very inventive....sexy....erotic....wild......Woohoo!
Even at that, I'm still gonna make sure I'm not standing between you and Alex at the Forums....I'm steering clear of the line of that fire!....lmao
~~nibbles~~
It's OK, it's only puppy loveQuote:
Originally Posted by erotic_nibbles
Mad
who just can't let a straight line pass him by. :D
Story dedicated to and inspired by my pretty dungeon slave, Sari :kiss:
Originally written for the New Lord Mobius's Dungeon
My Pet Wanted a Spanking; I Gave Her That and More
I looked down at the trembling slave before me and wanted to feel nothing. She was too powerful, too potent, far too innocent in her trust. The rush of her emotions beat at my demon, demanding more not less. I was already on sensory overload from that blasted disaster of a dinner party. A party where she had been the perfect pet, obedient in every way. No, I didn't want to feel her emotions, lest I be swept away.
I was lying to myself. And I knew it. I wanted to feel every bit of her. Her soft skin beckoned. My mark on her breast called to me.
I knew what she was feeling now. The wetness between her legs, the combination of arousal and anxiety in her stomach. She licked her lips and I watched the movement. The flick of her tongue was making my body harder than I thought possible on this strange night.
Slowly, I walked to the large bed and disrobed with a thought by quickly dematerializing and then materializing again. My clothes were piled on the floor carelessly. She didn't take her eyes off me and I grinned. I was showing off and we both knew it.
"Come, my sweet, lay across my lap," I told her and she gracefully crawled to me.
Her movements were slow, exaggerated, erotic. She swung her hips. The action made her breasts jiggle. How I love those breasts! Watching my gift, my tasty dessert, make her way towards me, I stroked my cock for just a touch of relief.
She smelled like peaches and cream, the lotion on her smooth skin. She also smelled of woman. The scents mingled adding to my own excitement.
Who is the prey here? I wondered when she raised her head and stared at my erection. Perhaps I was to be the treat for her.
My cock twitched and she shook herself. The silent shudder almost took my voice away. I was supposed to be in charge here, not my willing slave.
"Up, pet, you've stalled long enough," I put a bit of growl into my voice and she quickly climbed up on the bed and spread herself across my lap. I knew she could feel my erection poking into her stomach when she wiggled a bit to settle against my thighs.
"Why are you being punished, pet?" I asked.
Her mind was racing. Her guilt had long been forgotten; that she had requested the punishment was almost forgotten as well. Her thoughts were on my cock pressed against her skin, the emptiness of her sex and the throbbing of my mark on her breast. Her thoughts were on me, taking her, ravishing her. Well, I couldn't punish her for that.
"Master...I..." she began and I laughed.
"You felt guilty," I supplied.
"Yes...guilty..." She murmured. Her head lay on the comforter and I made sure she turned to watch herself in the mirror. She gasped when I felt between her legs. The jolt of excitement further fed my demon. I admit fear is pleasant, but there's nothing like the taste of an orgasm. Nothing.
This little slave often punished herself by denying herself release. I wanted something else tonight. I wanted to feed and feed. To overwhelm her by forcing her to orgasm until she begged for mercy. But first, her bottom was in need of attention.
When she relaxed, I removed my fingers from her wet pussy and licked them. I took my time, watching her watching me in the mirror. Her lovely mouth moved into an "o". Perfect.
"Forty, I think will do it. Can you hold still for that long?" I asked, knowing that I'd have to be careful. With my strength, I could easily break the bones of such a delicate creature. Forty would be difficult for her.
"I...don't know, Master. I will do my best." Her soft voice held a note of fear mixed with anticipation.
"That's all I ever ask from you, pretty kitten. Do your best. You count them and thank me."
"One," she said.
I opened my palm and swatted a round globe.
"Thank you, sir. Two."
Another swat to the other globe. She squealed this time, but bravely gave me another count.
"Thank you, sir. Three."
I swatted the first side a bit lower and she grabbed onto the comforter. Her hands held the fabric in a tight grip. I had been a bit hard. Yet there were no complaints, just another thank you and a count.
Every swat made me ache for relief. For my pet, it sent her someplace where she lost track of the numbers and her ability to count by the time we reached twenty. She said, "Thank you, sir. Three."
Again, I had to laugh. She was so amusing.
"You may just thank me, pretty kitten. I'll count for you."
She wiggled a bit, preparing herself for the next spank, pushing herself against my groin.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
When we reached forty, she was stinging from her bottom to her thighs. My hands are big and I had to spread out the swats. Her bottom was red, warm and perfect for my next plan.
I had her sit in my lap, facing me. She slowly lowered herself onto my cock. The heat of her sex both teased and tormented me. I needed friction, now. Sensing my desires, she put a hand on the nape of my neck and the other on my shoulder. I leaned forward, capturing a delicious breast and did what I wanted to do all evening.
I drank in her sweetness and her blood, while she rode me in a frenzy of movement. Using my hands, I kept up the pace, long after she'd lost the energy to continue. I gave her one climax after another, forcing her to shatter and grip me ever tighter as her insides spasmed and massaged me to my own release. On and on I forced her to ride me, up and down, repeatedly. Her body milked by cock, squeezing when she came yet again.
"Now, pet," I commanded. "One more time."
Everything in me focused on my hard cock, my need, my pleasure. I pumped into her harder, faster, deeper, so very close, just a little bit more then she tilted her body to just the right angle and I found ecstasy! She was barely awake when I exploded into her, my thick seed, seeming to spend itself forever.
Her eyes caught mine and she smiled. She had done very, very well.
I kissed her and told her so with my thoughts. Nodding, she snuggled against me, her body completely relaxed. Finally sated, I pulled her under the covers with me and watched her drift into a sensuous slumber.
For the first time tonight, I feel at peace. I believe that I will join her in sleep.
(C) Copyright 2005 Ruby Bloodstone. All rights reserved.
Picture of Yuri and Sari courtesy of www.artmam.com with reciprocal link
Ruby,Quote:
Originally Posted by Ruby
I'll say, very well indeed :bravo: .
His madness
Lews
Well it's not what I set out to write but you all know how that goes. I may fluff it up a bit and submit it as a story or perhaps just leave well enough alone. It would be a modern somewhat darker retelling of the legend of Tam Lin with some of my own twisted thoughts thrown in.
A Bit of a Sacrifice
O I forbid you, maidens a',
That wear gowd on your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lin is there.
The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, 1882-1898 by
Francis James Child
I've lived all my years in the village of Chauterfield, in the lovely gray thistle glen some thirty miles into the Scottish Highlands. Chauterfield lies a few miles due south of a stark bluff that the locals call "The Mound". A spring issues forth mid way down the western slope of the bluff. It skips and splashes its way near the forested path down to the floor of the glen. This would be what's always been called the "Burn of Bliss". From the eastern face of the bluff a waterfall drops straight down some eighty feet onto the rocks below then follows it's time worn path down into the valley. It has always been called the "Burn of Sorrow". A half-mile below the bluff the two burns meld into a stream that is dammed at the northern edge of the village to form our millpond above the village green.
The name "The Mound" isn't for the bluff itself but rather for the strangely symmetrical raised circle atop the bluff from the center of which protrudes a vaguely phallic rock nearly six feet in height.
The Mound is not mentioned in any local tour guide and yet it attracts a steady stream of tourist who take the meandering five-mile trek up the bluff for the fine view of the valley.
Memories run deep in old backwater places like this and the mound always played a pivotal role in the lands about our village. It has never been a cheerful place and the locals avoid it at all times but most especially during those weeks before summer solstice.
We're known as a close knit group and will rarely speak of local history to strangers unless pressed (or fresh from the "Hound and Pheasant Pub" where we might become a bit too talkative as the evening progresses.)
A castle stood on the bluff in the mid-eighteenth century. It was the last stronghold of the Jacobite's, and stood defiant for over a year after the Bonnie Prince had fled to hide behind Papal skirts. On the eve of the summer solstice in 1747 the castle fell to an overwhelming English force. There were 63 men defending the castle but none survived its capture. Bloody King George ordered the castle torn down stone by stone and the rocks scattered about the glen. It took a company of Royal Engineers three months to accomplish the task but not a one of the lot dared to touch the mound. The defenders were buried together in an unmarked grave but ten years later a secret monument was erected in the local cemetery which lists each of the 63 men's names and their clan as well as a mysterious 64th entry for an "Abigail of the Mc'Doland Clan".
If the local archeologist is to be believed (and why not? He is local.) this was also the site of a Roman fort nearly two millennia ago. It would have been the northernmost settlement built by the Romans nearly 40 miles beyond the location of Hadrian's Wall. It's construction must have predated that structure by at least fifty years. The few artifacts that have been found include Stone blocks with chisled Latin inscriptions marking the completion of a northern gate signed by a centurion Flavius Victrix commanding the 2nd century of the sixth Legion. Almost all other bits of pottery, glass and metal from the Roman era show evidence of destruction from intense heat so it is likely The Jacobite's were not the first to be massacred on this spot.
More recently there was a poorly explained suicide pact which left five lads, up from the university on holiday, dead at the base of the falls and a lone unknown young lady wandering the wood's, quite mad. That caused quite a stir back in 1936. Since that time we haven't tried to clear the woodland during the summer solstice and almost every year a tourist or local disappears for a spell.
Present day legend has it that the mound now only seeks a virgin lass. That tale may well be the invention of the local lads trying their best to protect their sweethearts from a virgin's fate.
It was two elderly women; birder's out in the early morning mist, who found the girls body. She lay on the hollow of land where the two burns mingled. She was naked, bruised and alive, but completely unresponsive. It was almost as if her mind had fled her body to some better place.
We knew how to deal with these situations but the two birders who found her called in the county authorities. That was unfortunate for they in turn called in more outsiders and a " Major Crimes Unit" came up from Edinburgh to investigate.
She was a blonde tourist from New Zealand, a schoolteacher I believe. As luck would have it she was one of five young ladies who had happened to win an all expenses paid mid summer trip offered by our local tourist board.
She was no real help to the investigators. She had obviously been assaulted, but other than some bruises and abrasions she was in fair shape. She occasionally whispered what one Inspector swore he thought sounded like " Tram Line" but in any event she seemed completely disconnected from reality. They found no semen so the investigators concluded the assailment must have used "protection" to hinder their investigation. The local constable rolled his eyes at that one but said nothing and let the professionals have their way.
She had nearly torn off two fingernails in the struggle. The scrapings yielded a lot of detritus but no trace of human flesh. The investigators were also at a loss to explain her lack of clothing until one of the local lads took pity and lead them up to the top of the bluff and then to the mound. They found some bits of her pink cotton nightgown and a white terry cloth robe but it only added to the investigator's puzzlement.
What little was found was in such tiny fragments it was impossible to tell what had happened. It was almost as if her clothing had suddenly turned as brittle as fine porcelain and then shattered into a million bits. More peculiarly some of those strands of cloth were found imbedded in both trees and rocks at distances up to forty paces from the mound.
The special team mucked about for a few weeks complaining of the lack of local assistance. The woman's cuts and bruises were treated and then she was sent away to a psychiatric ward with a diagnosis of " hysterical amnesia". There was a whiff of scandal some 28 days later when an orderly of 23 years standing was let go. When the unnamed occurrence reoccurred at the next rising of a new moon the man was reinstated with back pay and a proper apology. On the third month when the near comatose patient was fully restrained and the incident happened yet again our village council stepped forward and offered to take the poor woman into a suitable local nursing home.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and life returned to normal. The woman remains nearly catatonic but for those evenings when a new moon rises. It is then that you can find her naked on her hands and knees panting grunting and thrusting back against an ethereal lover only she can see. The following morning will find her as unresponsive as ever with fresh bruises and abrasions though we all know they are purely psychosomatic. Throughout the month her belly swells with the growth of the moon in an accelerated parody of gestation. This too can be explained away by the psychiatric professionals that oversee her. When the new moon is born her womb empties and then her lover returns.
It has been going on for almost nine months now. If all goes as it always has she will awaken after the thirteenth lunar cycle. She will have lost a year, and whatever maidenly virtue she had arrived with. We should all be grateful. There's been no deaths for nearly seventy years now. The old gods have become much less demanding. I guess all things Scottish mellow with age. The Villagers often take up a collection for the befuddled lass when she wakens and before they send her on her way.
But enough of this sad tale. Lets raise a pint of bitter now for It's time to look to the future. The council has sent out five new prize vacation packages in the afternoon post. The women are all young, and single, every one of them with golden hair. Hopefully at least one of them will tickle Tam Lin's fancy.
Copyright © Mad Lews 2005
A very well-written piece, with the ending sentence answering almost all the questions.
Sadly, the source of the legend, who the guy was and why he haunts, might not be known to non-Scots like me.
Superior story, though sir. Nicely done.
Chuck
:bravo:
It was a delightful read!
Aye Cap'n Chuck,Quote:
Originally Posted by chksng19
Me veins be as thick with Scottish blood as yer's sir. Truth is my sassy wench feels I cut a dashing figure in my tartan kilt as I waggle a stiff claymore before me. So whilst I may not truly be one I do on occasion play the Highland lad upon the net.
Now then to the legend, I first met Tam lyn in a piece of SciFi where he was a trickster computer who ran an interstellar ship. The name intrigued me.
Now if you were to stop poking that poor lass with yer belayin pin and turn a weather eye to the Isles of goggle.
Yes Yes I know your busy so I'll help ye out this once.
Ahem, Tam Lin, well in the mildest story he be a good christen lad held captive by the Fey Queen and he be rescued by a fair princess who takes him to her father the king…
Damn it man does she have to moan so loud it's purely distractin…
Yes that’s better I can barely hear her. But do you really think it's safe? I mean if she gets excited and nips down, well you could end up a few inches shorter than gawd intended.
Well you trained her I guess you know what your doing.
Now where was I, Oh yes Tam Lin, As I said that be the English version cooked up in a monistary to keep the Lawds whelps from crying at night.
In Truth Tam Lin be a warrior of the Fey Queen who guards the portal betwixt the worlds. The King warns his daughter not to pass by the Portal ( a well or a cave dependin on the tellin) but being a reckless lass the princess trots off to Tam Lyns well and there she calls him forth by picking a rose.
From there on the legends all agree. She is caught between the worlds and must pay Tam Lyn a toll if she's to return. Either gold ( sometimes her golden locks), or her green coat must she pay or her maidenhead the price will be. As you might guess the lass returns with her gold and cloak but she has paid her toll in full. Now if the teller of the tale was a bit mad and had a harder edge perhaps it would become something like…
Mad Lews
Mad Lews,
Thank you for your new short. What a treat. A great tale with a surprise ending.
"It is then that you can find her naked on her hands and knees panting grunting and thrusting back against an ethereal lover only she can see."
An excellent line. Her "lover" seems quite demanding and attentive. ;)
Well done. Bravo!
Quote:
Originally Posted by Magister
Me thanks Good Magister,
‘Tis always good t'hear a tale be applauded roundly.
Perhaps yea might be persuaded to try thy hand or just add a thought on what another might churn into a short tale. If’en that be yer wish good Sir
Lews the Mad
Aye Ruby Dear,Quote:
Originally Posted by Ruby
The poor lad be havin his way with the hapless wench but once a month.
You too might be attentive and most demandin'. I speak not from personal experience mind ya, but tis what I do hear tell.
:kiss:
Yer Mad Lews
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
First impressions
White daylight flooded in through circular skylights. It immersed the entire room in milky brilliance. Not that there was much to look at in all this light. Or rather, the illuminated item was yet not under scrutiny. The floor was hard, but not chilly. He was sitting on his heels, knees spread. In the small of his back, his left wrist was clasped in his right hand. Unobserved, but never moving from the spot. Not that he could anyway.
Facing him, a single chair. Close, but out of his reach. Darkened wood. Comfortable armrests. Nothing fancy.
Relax already, it is just a chair.
He rolled his shoulders, longing to stretch his arms above his head for a moment. Perhaps even stretch out his legs for a while if he could. He wanted to do something, anything, to briefly break the immobility. He strained his hearing for sounds from the corridor, but there was nothing. Soundproof, probably. He would not hear them coming. Maintain the position. First impression, display impeccable posture. It beats being considered junk from the very beginning.
Initially he had believed that he was to be exercised as usual, but today they had taken him to the steam room, flushed him out, cleaned him, and finally oiled his skin. Even fluffed his chest hair. Ridiculous, as if anyone would notice. Oh well, all part of letting the merchandise sell itself.
A single bead of sweat descended from his pubes, irritatingly focussing his attention again on the weight at the tip of his cock. Still unfamiliar. There was still a moment of nausea every morning he woke up to it. The heavy steel ring that entered the urethra and exited through a hole in the glans. After the physical shock he had felt nothing but outrage and anger. How dare they invade his intimacy thus? How dare they attach it there, biting into his sensitive flesh, pulling him downwards, mercilessly gripping into his very vulnerability?
Now that the piercing was healing, the questions had taken over again. Had his new owner ordered it done without bothering to inspect him first? Was it just a casual piece of decoration? An indication of his assigned status? What would his duties entail? He had questions galore, but no answers. And every question remained unasked, except in the ever-shifting chaos that passed for a mind in this oh-so-disciplined body.
Should he consider himself lucky because nothing else had been done to his body?
His body. Not his body.
Yeah, yeah, whatever. Focus. Make a good impression. If you are considered worthless, you’ll get thrown away.
He lowered his gaze again to the spot between his legs. A single ring embedded in the floor. The handler who had taken him in had brought a manacle and chain to fix him pending the customer’s arrival, but then, with a smile at the ring in his penis, had ordered him down and had simply connected them with a lock. So there he was, cock anchored to the floor, awaiting a chance to leave a favourable impression with whoever would walk through that door.
It opened unexpectedly. No sound had announced their arrival. His hand holding his wrist clenched in reflex. He squared his shoulders and straightened his back, heart hammering in his throat. The handler entered and stood beside the doorway. Footsteps.
© 2005 Ranai Pahav. All rights reserved.
Thanks to Ruby for beta-reading this text.
Ranai,
I love this story and am begging shamelessly for more!
"Please, Ms. Ranai, please tell us what happens next."
Ruby
Very nice one RanaiQuote:
Originally Posted by Ranai
Lots of vivid impressions to go with his very vivid predicament.BTW that method of bondage sounds pretty painful in a nasty sort of way but I'll take your word on it that he's mostly interested in being presentable. I suspect my mind would be on other matters (guess thats why I'd make a lousy sub :dunno: ). Do you plan to keep us in suspence or might you expand this into a short story?
Yours
Mad Lews
wow, ranai, great writing! :D more please!! What happens next? is there a 'next'?
Ranai,
Very nice, it sent wonderful warm wet tingles right between my legs. Thank you.
Thanks for the nice comments, Ruby, Mad, M0 and Jasmine!
It makes me happy that you like it.
The bondage question is interesting. Perhaps I’d need to improve the description to clarify. It is meant to be nasty under the control aspect, of course. I had envisioned him resting his buttocks on the heels, with the tops of his feet flat on the floor. What the Japanese call ‘seiza’. The floor ring should be big enough to lean up against his genitals. That way, if the lock is not heavy, he would not feel much more pull than the ring he is carrying all the time. Otherwise I would have had to write in all these pain sensations – too distracting.
I don’t want him to be a complete stoic. Where’s the fun in that?
Is there a ‘next’? At present there is not. I don’t know yet whether I will expand this in writing. It was merely composed as a vingette. I need to think about it... shameless begging noted. ;)
Well it's time to add another tidbit. The reading public has told me that I need to get a bit nastier or I'll be consigned to Romance Novels. Here's my attempt at rehabilitation. A continuation from an earlier story " The things we do for Love" in which Jackie and Richard a loving couple (Hire?) a sub Julie for their 7th anniversary and eventually all three end up on the same page, more or less.
Marriage Councilor
Some months later Richard had his boss Jim over for dinner. The men ate in the dinning room chatting about work while Julie and I served the meal and nibbled on leftovers while we waited in the kitchen. Afterwards Julie and Jim disappeared into the basement playroom while Richard and I retired to the Master bedroom for a few hours of fun.
I was foolish enough to jokingly remark that Julie must be awfully dedicated to be working so late. I wondered if Richard was going to get a promotion out of this? Richard's face flushed with anger. He hopped up and grabbing me by the ear pulled me up off the bed. He marched me down to the basement where Julie was bent over, locked into the old fashion stocks. She was sobbing quietly as her shaky legs strained to keep her bottom in place.
She was receiving a blistering spanking with a formidable wooden paddle that was decorated with inch wide holes drilled out along its length. Not only did it leave a pattern of circular bruises on her bottom it also made a terrible whistling noise as it swung through the air.
" If you don't mind Jim," he said to his boss "this one needs to learn when to curb her tongue."
"What's her name? She's kind of cute."
" Jackie, and she's too cute by half. It's about time she learned that."
" Is she trained?"
Richard still held me painfully by my twisted ear. He pulled me downward and I was forced to my knees behind Julie. I was close enough to thoroughly inspect the damage that paddle had inflicted on poor Julie's bottom. The paddle had left a pattern of white dots outlined in deep purple against the generally bright red glow of Julie's ass. Now was not the time to be sympathetic with Julie's plight though. I was in trouble myself.
" No not really I've barely trained her, but no time like the present." Richard said.
Richard was allowing this stranger to see me naked on my knees. I was terrified at the thought of what else Richard might allow. The thought of being forced to pleasure this stranger was frightening and yet perversely exciting. The fact that Richard would be the one forcing me to do it made it all the more exciting.
Jim squatted down next to me, roughly grabbing my chin squeezing and lifting it until I was forced to look him in the eye. We stared at each other for an endless moment and I felt the arrogance of an implacable will determined to wrest some form of submission from me just because I was a naked woman. I lowered my eyes my body trembling with fear, but there was a faint stirring of longing buried deep inside.
"How'd you end up with two of them you lucky bastard?" Jim asked.
"That one's my wife.." he said pointing at me.
" She's just now learning what she really wants to be."
Richard spoke in a casual manner but his words were so cruelly honest that tears began to well in my eyes.
A stranger's hand roamed across my bottom and I squirmed under the foreign touch. A finger traced the scar of my brand.
"You branded her too? You can barely make this one out. Her skin's too pale. Julie's olive complexion makes her brand stand out so much better."
God it was so unfair. I'd suffered just as much as her for that scar. She just always seemed to be better at everything. It made me want to scream sometimes.
"You need to get her out in the sun. If she tanned that pale little butt of hers you'd see her brand right away."
I could have kissed him. (If he wasn't gripping my chin so hard) My tongue did dart out trying in vain to lick the hand that held me so firmly. Not only did he know how to make my brand stand out as well as Julie's he said my bottom was little. I was really starting to warm up to this guy.
" That’s all well and good but right now we need to tame her nasty little tongue, and maybe start instilling a little discipline." Richard said.
"Well I'm willing to help any way I can." Jim said with enthusiasm. " And this has got to be a lot cheaper than a marriage councilor."
The two of them chuckled at Jim's little joke as he held me firmly by the chin. Then he pulled me forward on my hands and knees until my nose was pressed into Julie's inflamed bottom. He finally released my jaw but I was careful to remain exactly as he had placed me. I could literally feel the heat coming off of Julie's throbbing flesh.
Jim was right next to me, speaking in a low calm voice.
"Now I want you to push your nose into her nasty shit hole like a good little bitch."
He rose up over me and straddled my crouching body then grasped my wrists and pulled them back toward my calves. Without my hands supporting me the weight of my head and shoulders was resting completely on my nose which began to press deeper into the crack of Julie's bottom.
" Grab hold of your ankles and don't you dare move no matter what." He ordered me.
I was determined to obey this man. I wanted to show Richard just how well trained I really was. I wanted this stranger to want me, and I was sure the best way to do that was through my perfect obedience.
Time passed with aching slowness as I strained to remain perfectly still. I licked my dry lips and Julie squirmed above me. I suddenly realized just how close my lips were to her sweet little cunt and how opportune my placement might be. I could easily make Julie break position, then who would look like the amateur?
My tongue flicked out and Julie strained to remain stationary. Again my tongue struck and Julie groaned squirming. I heard the whistle of the paddle before it struck but I had no time to prepare. Pain exploded across my rump as Jim bellowed in anger.
"You were told to keep still!"
© copyright Mad Lews July 2005
Great… :bravo: (not just to Mad but all nice people sharing their stories.)Quote:
Originally Posted by Mad Lews
Always thought there should be more to those characters than just that sizzling ending :D in "Things "... (If it were not "just fiction" I'd be tempted to complain it was too simplified.)
Now … marriage councilors NEVER hold just one session…
So please more :D
Ah, and ... Impressions... it is maybe the best way to do a short-short,
A snapshot! Encapsulated moment, mood, feeling, (enslaves, so to say :D ) for later enjoyment at leisure.
Thank you Ranai. (Of course I'd live to read more ... but somehow I have a feeling that this was it.)
Mad Lews,
You've done it again. Another winner. :applaus:
..."this one needs to learn when to curb her tongue."
Indeed she does. Looking forward to more of the lesson, as long as I can keep my distance from that paddle.
Your fan,
Ruby
Ruby,Quote:
Originally Posted by Ruby
Thanks for the round of applaus. Glad you liked it.
I'm sure you're much to well behaved to have to worry about any distant paddles. :rolleyes:
Drat.
Mad Lews
It was always meant to be a writing exercise thread with some folk contributing ideas and others completing short scenes. The best laid plans of Elves, Orcs, or Men etc... Here's an intro that isn't terribly erotic yet but if all goes well will someday see the light of day as a sweet romantic love story
Once upon a time, though not as long ago as you might think, There was an Island Kingdom in that place we now call Keltoi, off the northern coast of Galatae. Back in those days the kingdom ruled by a mighty monarch named Lien Venrihet the fifth.
Lien like his father before him was a tyrant. More to the point he was the type of tyrant that gave despotism such a sour reputation. He had ascended to the throne when his beloved father Lien Venrihet the fourth fell victim to unknown assassins.
The coronation ceremony was tastefully elaborate and attended by all the nobility and as many plebeians as would fit into the courtyard. A marvelous military parade followed which included every troop within the kingdoms' army. His first official act as King was to have the entire company of Royal Guards arrested.
Now it was no great mystery as to how his loving father had come to such an abrupt end. Lien the fourth better known as "The Butcher" (though not to his face of course) was truly hated and feared by the nobility who knew him well, but they were much too timid to conspire against him. The common folk simply lived in constant terror of their ruler for their lives were already much too desperate for them to waste time or energy on the luxury of hatred. All who were knowledgeable in the ways of the palace intrigues knew for a fact that Lien (the fifth) and his dear mother had joined forces with one or more officers of the Royal Guard to do away with the man who stood between Lien and the throne. It would of course have been very impolitic to mention this aloud on Lien's coronation day (or ever if you enjoyed the simple pleasure of breathing).
Before the assembled troops of his army Lien had all the officers of the Royal Guard beheaded. This was both reasonable and fair for they had indeed failed to protect their Lord and they were therefor untrustworthy. As it turned out they were also the lucky ones for rank is indeed entitled to its privileges. Once the officers had been dealt with (and any co-conspirators silenced) Lien ordered the guard decimated. The company of two hundred counted off and every tenth soldier stepped forward. Each of these men was stripped to the waist and disemboweled.
A professional executioner did the deed. He avoided severing major blood vessels so these twenty men died slowly squirming on the parade ground as their guts spilled out and turned the dust to mud. This exhibition seemed to sicken many of the nobility for some reason but the common folk found it highly entertaining. Even though many of these men screamed and flopped about on the ground for the better part of an hour they were luckier than the rest.
The remaining members of the Royal Guard, with their hands bound in iron cuffs behind their backs,were stripped completely. . Then naked before the multitude they were escorted one by one to the very chopping block where their officers had lost their heads. These poor souls each donated a sack with two jewels to the celebration. The basket into which the executioner tossed these bloody trophies grew full. There is of course no truth to the rumor that the contents of these sacks were served at the coronation dinner (of that I would almost be willing to swear). If we must be fair, we would note the executioner used a sharp blade that was heated red-hot so none of these (can we still call them men?) suffered too great a loss of blood. I leave it to you to determine if this small detail was an act of mercy.
The freshly gelded guard were slapped into leg irons and then forced into a proper military formation. The crowds howled their derision as they were paraded naked through the streets of the capital before being marched off in chains to the dreaded mines of Edtilia. Of the 180 led away only 34 survived the seventy-mile march to the mines and none survived a month in those dark tunnels.
This was how Lien Venrihet the fifth introduced himself to the country he would rule. It wasn't long before the nobility was longing for the good old days when Lien's father "The Butcher" had ruled with his cruel but steady hand.
Lien was acutely aware of the ephemeral nature of loyalty and so it surprised no one when a slow but painful wasting disease overcame his beloved mother. While she lingered in aching madness none paid much attention to the wild accusations her troubled mind spewed forth. Most were relieved when she finally found peace in death's cold grasp.
Nothing like a pompous bloody massacre to let the underlings know what they are dealing with! We will follow this promising despot's career with interest. (Now where the heck did that pluralis majestatis come from?)
There is not a whole lot of... er... individual human interest in the text yet; the victims are dealt with wholesale. As the narrative employs the voice of a detached historiographer, it is up to the reader to supply perceptive details to enrich the facts. The flash of a knife and tearing of fabric as clothes are cut off a helpless body – how else to strip chained-up soldiers. The white face of a seasoned warrior as his jewels touch the blood-slick block. Rough hands, calloused from exercise and battle, clenching and unclenching trapped in unyielding irons. Ahem... :rolleyes: Now look what you've done! —> :Tasty:
In a prologue it is good; in the corpus of a story readers may wish to have the panorama view supplemented with close-ups to revel in. Thanks for a royal entertainment, Mad.
*Kiss*
I thought you were apprehensive of being moved to Romance department? :pQuote:
Originally Posted by Mad Lews
Well it looks more like a setting for a bloody tsunami. It certainly should get better when it gets to individual characters - it's always better when you do it to Someone, not to a bunch of guards.
Now this Lien Venrihet (the fifth!) he isn't ancestor of Machaveli, is he?
I always though that "now look what have you done!" is one of the best lines ever! :D
Ok. Here's nice albeit 'slippery when wet' stage. Now what? :rolleyes:
Well as I see it developing Lien is just a delightful cad and the real story is about the revenge worked upon him by his third wife. ( Volunteers?) It would seem that after spending a few years terrorizing his subjects he became cognoscente of the pressing need for an heir. His first wife produced a girl who was promptly disposed of and the wife spent her first anniversary being very slowly garroted with her own intestines. (Lien really had a thing for nice warm slimy guts) The second wife failed to produce any offspring ( probably due to Lien’s infatuation with her cute little ass) and so he was truely sadened when he had to slowly roast her over glowing coals a year and a day after thier wedding. The third and final queen did manage to deceive Lien, bear a child, and present Lien with a heir. Lien never lived long enough to discover his "son" was in fact fathered by his queens executed lover and born by a young scullary maid... but enough of this I can’t give away the whole story. Let’s just say Lien follows in the footsteps of his dear dad though a little sooner than he expected, The grieving Queen and future King live happily ever after and the peasants rejoice. God I love a happy ending. :rolleyes: honestQuote:
Originally Posted by pejanon
Now you've got to promise not to tell anyone, it's just between us how it going to work out OK;)
Mad
Cross my heart and hope to .. . ah, no way. instiling death wish isn't very nice! :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Mad Lews
All this merry-go-roung with wvies/lovers/bastard son/revenges/hot feelings/boogey happyends somehow reminds me of The Bard. Altought He would leave some of juicies parts out. Hope you won't. :cool:
Have fun
Pej
Interesting thread. Im still reading and will comment later. In the meantime, here is one of my shorts
Sonata of Pain
His hands were huge. He took her by her tiny wrists and roughly gripped them both in one of his hands. She didn’t dare struggle with the knife at her breast, but she knew she probably wouldn’t be able to get away, anyway. Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted off the floor as he picked her up with one hand! She looked into his blue eyes, cold, cruel, and demanding. He smiled at her sardonically and then let her down slowly. He was showing her what he could do, making it clear that he could easily control her with his bare hands and that the knife was merely a convenience.
His eyes left hers. and he looked down at her body. Her silk blouse was halfway unbuttoned. and her breasts peeked out from the lacy bra that pushed them up together.
“I like white meat,” he whispered in her ear, then ran his tongue down her neck, across her breastbone, and down the middle of her chest until he plunged it into the crevice between her breasts.
She gasped and pulled back slightly from his touch. It was an unconscious reaction, but unfortunately, he did not see it that way. He straightened up and looked at her in anger.
“Whore, you think you’re too good for me?” he said in a sudden rage. “You’ll never pull away from my touch, again.”
He dropped the knife and pulled one of her hands behind her back in a twisting motion, pushing it high on her back until she almost screamed from the pain, but she kept quiet, remembering what had happened the last time she had made a sound. He grabbed her by her crotch, violently yanked her back close to him, and released her arm, then turned her around facing him and bent down to pick up the knife and her violin. He picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder so that her ass was by his face. Her skirt was raised, exposing her satin panties. He push the blade against the tight cloth that covered her crevice until it cut through and she felt it against her skin, pricking the delicate flesh around her anus. She fought the desire to squirm and get away from the knife and the sharp sting of the point. She closed her eyes and held her breath staying perfectly still.
“If I hear one sound from you, I’ll shove this knife up your ass. You understand me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He walked down the dark alley, and she heard him open a car door. He threw her in the rear seat on her back. Then, telling her to turn over on her stomach, he quickly tied her hands and her feet together in a tight hog tie. His hands roamed all over her body as he was tying her, feeling her breasts and inner thighs, squeezing her round bottom and rubbing his large fingers in her pussy.
“I wish I had time to play now, but the wait will be worth it," he said as he covered her with a blanket and climbed into the driver’s seat.
He backed the car out of the alley and turned left. She concentrated on the turns, trying to deduce where he was going, but he kept doubling back and turned so often that, after a while, she became confused and had no idea of the direction in which they were headed.
She didn’t know who he was or where he was taking her, but it wasn’t too hard to guess what his intentions were. She hoped that he would leave her alive and that he would not hurt her too much. How was she going to survive this? What could she do?
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the music in her head. The music would help her through this as it had throughout her life. All she had to do was let it take over her thoughts, filling her mind and blocking out the horror. Slowly and methodically, she wrote the piece. As he pulled her out of the car and stripped her, the melody took shape. As he bound her breasts tightly with the thin nylon cord, she added the chorus. When he tied her to the table, bent over with her ass in the air and her breasts pressing painfully against the hard wood, she added the chords. The music filled her, the slow melody played over and over, keeping her mind separate from her body. As he raped and sodomized her, she developed the variations on the theme. She sang her song to the steady rhythm of the whip as it carved the lyrics of pain and humiliation on her back.
When he was finally finished with her that night and tied her to the steel post in the basement, blindfolded and gagged with duct tape over her mouth, he whispered of his love and commitment to her, just as a groom makes his promise to his virgin bride, to hold her and keep her until death do them part. Then he cruelly twisted her nipple, followed by a kiss on her forehead in an eerie gentle gesture of affection, before walking up the steps and closing the door. She was in total darkness in the chilly dampness of the unfinished room, not knowing when or even if he would return. She closed her eyes and composed the last notes and then let sleep overtake her, bringing her the only relief she would know in the days, weeks, months, maybe even years to come that she would be his.
To the Woodsman's fair game,Quote:
Originally Posted by woodsman'sgame
Write On! Not that I'm the type to leap out of the seventies or anything. You've made a splendid contribution with that lovely little vignette from the musically inclined. I'm more into dance myself but to each their own and we all play with the talents we got. I do hope you won't be a stranger and feel free to brighten up this thread whenever the spirit moves you.
You and Woodsman have a bright and sparkly eve. ;)
Mad Lews
Mad Lews,
That was quite a tale.
I'm sure that Lien will get his just rewards.
Woodsman'sgame,
Wow! Please visit and contribute often.
Who's next???