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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???
Well, I've certainly been reading in here quite a bit.. i guess i should try my own first contribution..
------------------------
Looking very out of place, a slim young man with dirty blonde hair walked into the bar. It was more of an upper-class bar, located in the richer area of town. He sat down at an empty table after ordering a drink to look at his surroundings. He took a sip of the brandy, savouring the taste. Rich red carpet, chandelier lighting, gold-plated decorations on the wall. Definitely more like a five-star hotel than anything else. Where better to play his game? He had nothing to lose already. Buried in his own thoughts, he was unaware of the purple eyes watching him from across the room.
The woman was tall and was dressed in a sharp-looking business suit. She luxuriated in one of the back booths with a glass of red wine. Her long legs were encased in shiny black leather boots that gleamed. She was dressed in a white dress shirt with a black suit jacket and a matching black skirt. The young man, dressed in a faded blue t-shirt and equally faded and worn black jeans looked tired and wrung out. He looked to be in his late teens or ealy twenties, but had the look of experience in his eyes. The woman allowed herself a small smile when he stood and approached the gambling tables. She signalled and from behind her, a man approached.
"Yes Ms. Kawdins? What would be your pleasure this evening?" the attendant asked respectfully with a slight bow and smile. He waited attentively, notepad in hand, for her response.
She inclined her head towards him, not taking her eyes off her target. "That one." she declared, "I want him financially ruined beyond repair before I join the game. The signal will be the dealer pulling on his ear twice."
The attendant nodded, "It will be done." He hurried off to the dealer, taking him aside before the game started and whispering the instructions into his ear. Ms Kawdins watched from her seat and saw the dealer nodding his understanding.
The young man didn't notice much, just that he kept losing. He fiercely forced himself to smile. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Lose everything. Hit rock bottom. He bared his teeth at the dealer and nodded. "Another round." The players around him hissed and muttered complaints about not trusting that he had the money. A few players collected their winnings and dropped out, and a new player stepped in. A woman.
Ms Kawdin joined the game at the dealer's signal. Everyone settled, and they began to play. She started off the betting with $5000. Many of the other players, businessmen who were playing just for fun and relaxation snorted and folded. As she'd hoped, the young man stubbornly stayed in the game. When it was her turn again, she raised her bet to $25000. Only two other players stayed in the game aside from the young man
She won the round with no problem, and with a light smile, stood, saying "I'll collect my winnings now then. I have to go for the night." One by one, the players reached deep into their wallets and handed the cash into her outstretched, waiting hand.
When she came around to the young man, he shrugged helplessly. He looked into her face then dropped his gaze. "Sorry, I don't got it now."
Ms Kawdin glared, her piercing purple gaze burning through him. She motioned and two burly security guards arrived at her side in tandem. "Take him to the back room." she snapped. One of the behemoths grabbed the boy's arm, twisting it behind him while the other guard clapped a cloroformed cloth over the struggling boy's mouth and nose. They dragged his inert body away as Ms Kawdin handed each of the players $500 before following them to the back room.
Dear Micro Wave,Quote:
Originally Posted by Microwave0ven
A vibrant introduction, now where do I go for the rest of the story? I mean I hate to complain but that was just unfair. You can't just write the introduction to a great story and disappear into the back room closing the door behind you. Please tell us you're intentions are more honorable and you have a plan to continue this story. Oh and my thanks for the contribution, you ought to do that more often.
Mad Lews
Mmmm, what a pleasant opening.
The way you introduce your characters is elegant. Not too much information, just enough to give us an idea and tickle our curiousity. The mysterious young man has his secrets, and Ms Kawdin and her private goons are clearly up to no good.
With the 'Take him to the back room' you have created one of those delightful F/m/m moments where the female character, lazy, merely gives orders and watches obedient male minions with defenceless male prey. I find this very hot. (Psst... try to act surprised. ;) )
Atmosphere, tension, action... Thank you, M0!
Mad Lews - firstly, thanks for taking the time to read the story. About the 'rest' of the story... I often write little shorts like this for openings to other stories, but never get around to writing the rest of the story.
I end up using them for openings to email-type roleplays, usually. If someone wants to roleplay with me, the rest of the story might happen...or if my imagination works something out. :P and yes, I'll see about more contributions in this thread in the future!
Ranai - *stands mouth agape in shock* there, suprised enough for you? hehehe :P glad you're enjoying it though!
*Marvels at the portrait of the artist as a young man.* --> :jawdrop:
*Wanders off all confuzzled :confused:, muttering: 'He coulda guessed, couldn't he?'*
*Continues contemplating back rooms and their wondrous possibilities.*
Ooooooh! MO, you are such a tease. I love it.
The story leaves such vivid pictures in my brain,
the fantasy waiting to be continued.
Please be a good pet and tell me what happens next. Whatever it is, I hope the both participants enjoy themselves.
nopenope, i don't even know how the rest goes... mind gets a writer's blockage when it gets past that bit. any help to finish the story would be nice :p
meanwhile, another clip i wrote, this one's from some time ago. am working on yet another clip already in my mind. sometimes i get these opening clips bouncing in my head, end up writing them down. the new one i'm working on is a diff style than i usually write, so should be interesting if it works out
---------
Jason surveyed the town he was nearing with the arrogance of youth. Only a small town, but if he was careful, it would be good pickings for maybe a few weeks. Thievery was his trade, and he never could really stay in a town long enough to set down his roots. If he stayed longer, someone was sure to notice his illegal activites and report him to the proper authorities.
He shook his head, recalling the last time he'd overstayed his welcome in a town. Rather, he was welcome, but his clumsiness got him caught during a job, stealing the mayor's wife's jewelry. He'd been so close, but because he couldn't resist giving her beautifully pale and serene sleeping form a light kiss on the forehead, he was caught in the act as she woke up. She'd screamed, alerting everyone in the household to his presence so that he had to drop his belongings and run.
This sleepy little town in the country looked quiet enough though, from what he could see. It was evening already, the glow of the setting sun was fading to dusk and the warmth that the earth had absorbed during the day was beginning to radiate out again. Jason took his time hiking down from the hill and walking the path into the city. A few cars passed him on the way in. While he had his thumb out for hitchiking, none stopped.
In disgust, he reached the town breathing slightly harder than usual, with sweat staining through his t-whirt. At least it was a nice clean town, he reasoned to himself. He noted the small, dark alleys that he passed, opportunities for later on. After quite a bit more walking, he found a small, shoddy looking motel. It looked very out of place next to the neat little inns he passed along the way. However, it was cheap, so he paid for a week's rent.
After Jason had gotten himself comfortable in his home for the next week, unloading his bag and hanging up his t-shirt and jeans, he got changed and prepared to go out for a bit of a drink. The night was young, after all, and he might be able to snag some cash or some company along the way. He found his way to the Pink Flamingo Bar, apparently one of only three bars in town.
He spent a few hours inside, sipping a light beer and just enjoying the atmosphere of the bar. It was a change from the usual loud, rowdy parties he'd attended. He looked around the place, and saw that security cameras and guards were all over the place. The inside of this bar wasn't a likely place he could do his work. He paid for his drink and left.
Hanging around outside, he spotted an attractive woman wearing a sexy red outfit and holding a purse lightly to her side, just coming out of the bar. She looked very confident of herself, and Jason smiled with anticipation of the hunt, so to speak. He slipped easily into the shadows, his black tshirt and black jeans camoflaging him right away, and followed her as she walked down the block.
When the woman was nearing a housing complex, he walked closer on silent feet. Jason reached out, intent only on his goal, but just before his hand touched her purse, her other hand clamped down on his wrist.
Hi Mic O,Quote:
Originally Posted by Microwave0ven
Nice opening, you drop us off with a surprising show of strength. So what have we gotten into with this fair young maiden in red? Definitely dangerous, maybe malevolent, but what's the source of her strength. ( if you say she has the strength of ten because her heart is pure I'm out of here).
Seriously any idea as to what you've created? First thoughts are a Vamp, which could lead to a little poetic justice for your thief. Ruby could offer more helpful ideas if you wanted to go in that direction.
I'd have to mull over other possibilities but I'd be interested in a little more enlightenment. Can you give us a little more insight? What's she like? Is she angry at the thief's feeble attempt? Does she feel contempt, or is she amused maybe, and perhaps willing to play with her prey for a bit before ....
Yours truly,
Mad Lews
Your question is old, but I think it's interesting, so I'll post a few reasons.
Why we call it pussy.
Because they are furry, down there.
Because at first they are like a strange cat. Snarling, hissing, etc., but once you get their friendship, they roll on their back and suck up all the attention you will give them.
Because some poor country hick couldn't afford a sheep, so used a substitute, and was so satisfied, he ran thru the village, screaming of the encounter causing all the menfolk to grab their women and get some ‘pussy’ themselves.
Because some women have very feline habits. (finicky, oft wonder off to do their own thing ignoring you. Eat only when they feel like it, not at mealtime, and have a tendency to walk at their own pace, again ignoring you (ever tried to walk a cat).
Because women have feline movements. Esp some. Saw one that while filling my prescription moved so cat like and sexy, it was better than any exotic dance. Back in the days before glassed in and over crowded drug stores.
Because of the way they curl up on the couch, like a cat. All tucked in and cozy.
Because if you go down, and do it right, it’s like a cat cleaning itself.
The doorbell rang. He checked the clock, and put down his book. He looked thru the peephole. Late 30sr, buxom, but a lovely face, contorted with worry, and maybe a little fright. He left her standing there for 5 minutes, enjoying her furtive glances around, and silent pleading for the door to open. To her credit, she stayed still, and didn’t re-ring the bell.
Finally, he opened the door, and said.
“Hello, what can I do for you?”
“I…I came to see you.”
She said in a lovely voice, but just over a whisper.
“Speak up girl,” he said. “And why did you come to see me?” He watched as the emotions played across her face.
She glanced about nervously before saying. “I…I’ve come…” another quick glance behind her. “for.. my… tttraining.” She got out. You could tell she was concerned how thick the walls of the apartments were.
He gave her no quarter. He knew the doors blocked sound much more poorly than the walls. Besides, the girl next door had already been thru his training, to her older live-in partner’s delight. But there was also a new family in the apartment downstairs. A wife in her mid thirties, and a nice teen daughter. Maybe they would hear, by the time he finished with her mother, the girl would be of age.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” He said too loudly. “Training? What kind of training.” He heard a stifled giggle from next door. So had she, and her eyes grew to saucers, and a severe blush rushed over her face and neck. He wondered how much farther it extended. He would find out shortly.
She looked at him pleadingly. He just stared into her eyes, finally giving an exaggerated questioning tilt to his head, though there was none on his face.
She looked aghast at the door to my right, and then glanced back down the stairs. Then she turned back to him, but his eyes just bored into hers with the message. Yes, you must.
“I’ve come for my sex training.” She said it firmly, thought not near as loud as he had been.
“That’s not what I do, and nor what you want. Tell me again, correctly this time.” he said. You could see the turmoil and anger on her face. But after only seconds you could she her remember what it had been like when she thought that she had ruined her chance on her first attempt, and the relief and joy, when she got the e-mail of another chance. Her face changed to one of determination.
“I’ve come for my slave training.” She said in a full voice. Her modesty kept it from being a shout.
“Very well. ” He said. “You will undress here in the hall. Completely. So STRIP.”
The panic was back in her eyes. Her head swept the hall, and then the full wall of windows at the back of the stairs. But she knew she had to comply. It just made the resulting blush that much deeper in her shame. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and dropped it to the floor. I was right the blush covered her upper chest, and though lighter, disappeared under the edge of her brassier. She fumbled with the catch of her slacks, she was shaking so hard. She started to push them down, and as they cleared her panties, there was the click of a lock, and her eyes darted to my right. There was also a restrained moan. I recognized it as one of penetration from the next door. I could imagine two eyes in the crack of the door. One high and one lower. It brought a tight smile to my lips. Now her blush couldn’t have been deeper, if she had used maroon paint.
She realized then that the longer she took to undress the longer she would endure the prying eyes. She snapped the pants down and off her legs, taking her shoes with them. She hadn’t even kicked them away, before she was reaching for the back of her bra. She shucked out of it quickly, and reached for her panties, and flung them down and off, almost falling, and having to grab the wall to catch herself. There were muffled rhythmic pants to my right. Obviously someone’s hand was stuffed in someone’s mouth.
Realizing what she had to do, she stood straight, hands at her side. He nodded, and stepped back, and waved her into the room. As he closed the door, he heard another door bang shut and rattle violently. He smiled, he wasn’t the only one that had enjoyed his new slut’s humiliation. He turned and saw a girl before him, biting her lip. Obviously, she didn’t like the idea of all her clothes left in the hall for all to see. He just turned and walked to the living room, and sat in his favorite chair. She followed.
She couldn’t figure out what to do, or where to stand. Her eyes settled on the long coffee table, linear to my chair. On it were several papers.
Finally, he looked up into her eyes. “Kneel by the table, knees wide, and hands behind your back.” He said.
Despite having stripped in near public, and standing naked in a stranger’s apartment, she hesitated, like it was beyond her ability to cope. Slowly she approached the table, and lowered herself to her knees. Her hands went to the small of her back, one clasping the other. You could see her brain fighting with her muscles as she slowly parted her knees.
“This is the position you will take whenever you enter my presence.” He told her. “Of course, you will always be naked here. You will also assume this position any time I tell you to kneel. Here, or in public. Clothed or naked.” You could see her obvious wince at the words public, clothed or naked. “Do you understand?” He could tell she was still focused on ‘public’. It took a few seconds to realize that a question had followed.
He watched as her mouth gaped for long seconds. The internal struggle was interesting to watch, he thought for a minute she would make an objection, or bolt from the room. But finally, she closed her eyes and then her mouth. Slowly she opened her eyes again. There was a hint of tears in them, but she didn’t speak, just blinked several times to try to clear them. She waited for him to speak again.
“It is time we covered the basics of your training.” He began. “I believe you now have a better idea of what is ahead, but beside you are the rules and requirements of your training. There is also a contract, agreeing to be trained, and releasing yourself to me for the purpose of your training, and agreeing to the any means thereof, and use of your body for said purpose. I want you to pick them up and read them now.“
Despite what she had been through, and what she wanted, she was still terrified of reading the papers. Would they contain things that she couldn’t handle or be able to do. Would the contract bind her to do horrible things, or to him forever. Slowly she started to reach for the documents.
She picked up the first document. I was the contract. She read it over slowly. The first part covered her agreeing to the training as a sexual submissive; the payment for training, and her purchasing agreement. As it continued with a statement agreeing to full sexual use (three holes specified) and the acceptance of corporal and other punishments and bondage. She started to sweat, and breathe more slowly, and deeply.
He gave her a few minutes to digest what she had read. Then he addressed her
“Are you prepared to sign the contract, and live up to all of the conditions.” He said. Slowly, she nodded her head. He waited. It took long seconds before she got the point.
“Yes, Sir.” She said. He gently took her chin, and lifted it slowly till she met his eyes.
“I will not allow you to disappoint me.” He said.
“Move to the end of the table and kneel up to it, then, bend over the table and place the contract in front of you with the pen beside it.” He waited while she complied.
“You are to read the contract out loud.” He continued. “You will then ask for permission to sign it. When accepted, you will sign all three copies on the top line only. Once you have signed, the contract will be consummated. Since you failed in you first attempt to visit, instead of priming your cunt, I will be lubing your ass, as you read.”
Her head snapped up, and a small cry escaped her lips. He just stared back at her with out emotion and continued. “When you have finished signing, you will beg for your use. You will ask in as many various ways as you can think of, using the most graphic terms. I will not consummate the agreement, until I am satisfied with your sincerity, and terminology. Then during the act, you will continue, by telling me how much you want it, how much you want it fully or harder, how glad you are to receive it, and how it fells, again, using graphic terms. Do you understand?
She was still staring back into his eyes. But now her mouth was opened, and her eyes, again, like saucers.
“Or you may go out the door, dress and never return.” He said.
Her mouth snapped closed. He knew that by the time his trainees got to this point, he was sure that not getting the training, was worse than the fears they all got at this point. He had never had one not sign. He screened them too well beforehand.
"Yes Sir.........I Jane.........."