Short Takes

A few random thoughts that I felt might fit in this thread.
Something I'd been toying around with for a bit this morning.


Olivia's behavior had given her Master numerous nights of
restless sleep of late. Fitful dreams when they came at
all of her unwillingness to accept herself and the role
she was born to fulfill.

"My heart aches when I have to raise my hand to you
in disappointment and sorrow," he whispered.

She struggled to turn her head and see her Master, to follow
his voice but her purple leather collar had been secured to
the table top by the small silver rings adorning it.

Her legs had been splayed open with the use of a spreader
bar which was secured to her ankle cuffs, then connected by
silk rope to each of the table legs on either side.

She lay prostrate before him, her body naked, exposing her
backside to him. Both hands bound one over the other
had been held aloft above the middle of her back by more of the
silk rope which looped over a beam in the ceiling above.

He'd placed a small azure blue square shaped pillow beneath
her mound to give her some measure of comfort where she bent
at the hips over the edge of the table. It would also help to
prevent any chaffing between the rough surface of the table
and her cunt mound when he disciplined her.

"I apologize Sir, I ask that you forgive me for my lack
of self worth, my disobedience and dishonor of your teachings,"
Olivia whimpered.

Master Feather watched with growing desire as Olivia's coppery
hair brushed over the milky white contrast of her shoulders as
she tried vainly to turn her head toward his voice.

The fire red mane fell about midway down her back, dancing over
the smooth pallet of her flesh like an artist's sable tip brush dipping
and swirling amid a sea of polar white.

"I truly ache that I must shear you my precious lamb, that I must
remove your identity so that you will grow and bloom again just as
your hair will in time."

Salty rivulets of tears began cascading down Olivia's cheeks and
pooling between her lips as she thought of being born again.
A part of her shamed by thoughts of losing her womanly beauty,
another part of her joyous that she would sacrifice her vanity to be
whole, to be complete in her Master's eyes.

Master Feather walked around to the opposite side of the table
taking Olivia's face in his hands. He leaned down and kissed the
tears which ran copiously down her cheeks now, his lips and tongue
tasting the untainted emotion that was spilling forth from his mate.

"This is not loss Olivia but rather a rebirth, a reawakening of who you
truly are inside and I do all that I do for you in love," he said as he
gave her forehead a final kiss.

Leaning over her he began gathering up Olivia's fiery locks into a tight
spiral with his sinewy hands. Twisting the coppery strands tightly till
they bunched up and threatened to rip free of their roots, he slipped
a thin piece of pink elastic from his wrist and rolled it down to the stalk
of hair to her scalp.

"Cleanse me Sir, take away all the filth that I've let myself become,
all the dishonesty, the vanity, the sin of pride and doubt in myself."

"Make me whole again in your eyes and with your discipline, truly
mark me as the whore I've allowed myself to become," she sobbed
watching Master Feather's hand reach to encompass the SOG Bowie
knife.

The honed edge of the six and a half inch blade slid beneath the
loop of Olivia's shock of hair. Slow even slashes of the ebony edged
steel began slicing through years of denial, of deceit and what she was
born to be in a life wasted in hiding from herself!

She could feel the feathery wisps of her own hair raining down on her
shoulders and tickling against the globes of her bare breasts as they
floated about her stiffening nipples. She felt a dull ache begin pulsing
wihin the pit of her tummy and tiny droplets of her own wetness drizzle
between the folds of her cunt.

Olivia was being reborn in the eyes of her Master and most importanly
being reawakened from her slumber of self denial. From this day forward
she knew she belonged totally and would never decieve herself or deny
her desires no matter how shamefull others might think them.

The ultimate in submission is being totally nude from head to toe...

You seduce with your tome, Sir. My favorite parts of your vignette:

Quote:

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The fire red mane fell about midway down her back, dancing over the smooth pallet of her flesh like an artist's sable tip brush dipping and swirling amid a sea of polar white.

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I was near tears as she pledged her submission and then,

Quote:

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The honed edge of the six and a half inch blade slid beneath the loop of Olivia's shock of hair. Slow even slashes of the ebony edged steel began slicing through years of denial, of deceit and what she was born to be in a life wasted in hiding from herself!

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Here is a sentence every sub should feel at least once in his/her lifetime:

Quote:

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She felt a dull ache begin pulsing wihin the pit of her tummy and tiny droplets of her own wetness drizzle between the folds of her cunt.

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Thank you for sharing that pulse.

Scorpio'sWill2Power
With thanks my good Sir for reviving this long dormant thread.
Such a wonderful little vignette of deep-seated submission,
A sub wavering between shame and pride.
Your descriptive prose does her justice.
May all your subs be a little bit rebellious.
It makes life so much more interesting
Mad Lews

Olives destiny makes me sob.
You are a Master of words, good Sir.

Posted with thanks to my dear friends here, and in particular Qmoq and Alex Bragi[/I]
__________________________

“In two hundred yards you will have reached your destination” said the automated voice of the satellite navigation system.

If only that voice knew, she thought. Looking at the displayed map she pulled over just before the final bend in the road and nervously brushed her hair, again, and checked her light application of make-up, again. She re-read his final instructions, although earlier in her trip she had amused herself by repeating the whole letter, word by word from memory. In just a few minutes she would be with him for the first time. With the man who had written those words. The man who she had first chatted to online, and then spent hours on the phone with. The man who had become the centre of her universe.

“When you arrive at my house, park on the left hand side of drive next to my car. Once you have stopped the engine running and removed your key ring your friend to trigger your safe call. You will not be returning to your car until it is time for you to return home, so make sure you bring with you everything which you will need. Lock your car, put your bags on the doorstep and then ring the door bell. I will be waiting for you, but will give you enough time to put on the blindfold which is enclosed with this letter. I look forward to seeing you. ”

Inside the house he tried to relax as he waited for her arrival. It had been nearly a year since they had met in that chat room, and it was now only minutes before they would be in a real room together. But he couldn’t relax, he paced the floor anxiously running over every detail of the weekend making sure there was nothing he had missed. She had rung him, as he had requested when she was five miles away, she had to be nearly there now. He struggled not to peer through the window to spot her coming, but restrained himself, as he strove to hear the sound her engine as she pulled onto his drive.

His bell rang, and he made himself count to thirty before he opened the door. Why had he chosen such a high number? He hurried his count. And there she was. Looking just as she had in her photos, but on his doorstep, clutching her handbag, a small case beside her, wearing the clothes he had sent, and at his request, blinded to the world. What threw his remaining equilibrium though was her stance, perfectly balanced on her three inch heels, her feet slightly apart and head bowed, nothing moving. At that point his carefully made plans for the evening nearly went, but he took a deep breath, kissed her cheek and whispered “welcome’. Taking her bags he placed them just inside the door and gently took her hand saying “there’s a low step just in front of you. Come in my dear”.

His hand gave her the support which she needed. Support not so much to enter blind into a strange house, but to calm her souring emotions. Wrapping her fingers around his she stepped over where she assumed the threshold to be and continued into his home until stopped by his whispered instruction. Then his hand was gone. The heavy wooden door, the last thing she had seen, closed behind her with a thud. And then silence.

Well, silence until she strained enough to hear the imprints of an occasional foot step on a thick carpet. And then came the instruction she had been expecting. “Hands behind your back please. ” She felt him loosely tie her wrists together, the ribbon smooth and cool, holding her for him. The end of the ribbon placed in her fingers, reminding her that she only had to pull and the bow would undo and she would be free.

When he had chosen her outfit he had envisaged how she would look, how the soft dark leather corset would shape her, aid her posture, both conceal and present her breasts, how the silken fabric of the skirt would fall gracefully from her hips until it just covered her ankles. What he had not envisaged was how he would feel. The surge of pride from knowing that she had come to give herself to him, his amazement at the trust which she so simply gave him.

She felt his hand run slowly and gently down her arm, each nerve ending standing to attention and then relaxing as his touch whispered to each in turn. He sighed, “beautiful…”. Collecting his wits, he led her across the room, and bid her kneel. Never before had she appreciated that carpet made a noise as it was crushed.

In her head she followed the sounds of his footsteps out of the carpeted room and onto a hard floor. She heard the fridge door open and close, a chinking of glasses, the glissando of them being filled and his returning steps.

He thrilled to see how she had not moved, his fear being that she would have become nervous and undone the bow holding her wrists, but she was just as he had left her; her breathing slow and relaxed, her posture correct but not taut.

There was a creaking of leather, and a hard cool smooth glass touching her lips. “Drink, my darling. ” She opened her mouth a little and felt a cold liquid smother her upper lip as he poured a little of it into her. Then the glass was removed so she could swallow her favourite fruit cocktail.

He wished he could see her eyes smile as he watched her mouth curl upwards in recognition. Her easy, appreciative acknowledgment that he had remembered. He was so grateful to himself that he had saved their early conversations, including the one where she had let the recipe slip. He offered her another sip, intoxicated by her presence and the power he was experiencing.

A ringing in her handbag broke the moment. Muttering silently to himself he went over to it and removed her phone, and pressing the green button held it to her ear. She was supposed to slip a code word into the short conversation she was having with her trusted friend to indicate whether all was well or whether she needed help. Instead all she did was whisper the word, pause and then repeat it more confidently, twice, and eagerly say goodbye to her link with the outside world. He stroked her head as he pressed the power button on the phone before returning it to her bag.

“I need to do a few things in the kitchen, please wait here for me. ” There was a soft click as he turned the cd player on, and as he reluctantly left her for a while Elgar’s cello concerto enveloped her within her thoughts.

"Ready, my dear?" His words cut into her trance and she felt his hand on her arm. "Come and eat. " Her bearings now completely lost, she carefully stood and let him guide her. Standing still when he stopped, side stepping in response to the pressure on her left arm, and then sitting as the back of her knees told her he had positioned her chair. Her bound wrists and corset making her sit upright and her feet tucked under the chair she whispered a ‘thank you’ as she felt him place a napkin over her lap.

The scent of a subtle spicy candle set the scene for her. Obediently, and without ceremony, she opened her mouth each time she felt the hard metal of the fork touch her lower lip, accepting the food he offered her. Instantly she recognised what he was feeding her. They had chatted about food many times, and this was the only savoury dish he claimed he could reliably make. Whether it really was the food served to the gods which is how seemed to be at the time she would never really know, but it was perfect. Warm rich flavours teasing her senses, each morsel offered as she was ready, the occasional sip of a deep, mellow wine sending her head spinning more than any alcohol ever could. Then the cool desert, sweet and slightly tangy, sometimes soft, sometimes crisp. Only once did a little fall from the spoon onto her breast, the imprint of his finger where he had wiped it from her burning and calling to the essence of who she was.

After dinner, as she sat on the floor by his feet, her head resting on his thigh the outside world ceased to exist and they were in a place that time had forgotten. They talked about everything. About philosophies and elephants, about music and rivers, about their pasts and their dreams for the future. Just occasionally, seemingly when she was least expecting it, he would caress her. Sometimes her arm, sometimes her face or neck, and sometimes the swell of one of her breasts. Each time so tender, and so short.

The evening was both infinite but soon gone. He led her into the bathroom where he untied her wrists and guided her around the room, using her hand to show her where everything was, including a bag containing what he wished her to wear to bed. Finally he asked her to close her eyes and he removed her blindfold. Keeping both that and the ribbon, he closed the door behind him. Later she would ask herself why it did not occur to her open her eyes, but the thought did not cross her mind. She felt her way around the strange room, the texture, temperature and shape of each item so sharply defined in her dark world she soon prepared herself for bed. Breathing in she loosened the ties on her corset and stepped out of her skirt as it rustled to the ground. She did her best to fold them and put them to one side. Then she felt over to where he had left what he wanted her to wear. Standing naked she wondered what she would find. Her imagination led her in all directions, but never to the correct place. Her fingers touched a cool and slightly hard fabric, and lots of it. She recognised the feel of crisp cotton as she picked it up and chuckled to herself, she struggled to make sense of the garment, if only there had been a little less fabric. Finally she found the top and the sleeves, and identified the back by the label, and slipped it over her head. She ran her hands over her clad body and realized that with the exception of square neckline she was completely covered. She was surprised, not sure if she was pleased or not, it was so contrary to her expectations. Even her arms were covered.

As he had heard her preparing herself for bed he struggled with what he had given her to wear, he would so much have liked to have had her come out of the bathroom naked and present herself to him. He even considered changing his plans there and then, the thought of her unclad and so close was tormenting him, but clinging to his original plan he waited. And following her call, as he entered the bathroom and saw her modestly covered and already kneeling for him, he was pleased that he had. This was so perfect; he was right to let them both savour each step.

He bent and kissed her forehead, whispered “thank you darling”, and taking her hand he helped her to her feet. She was now so comfortable being led that she followed him easily, stopping where he indicated, and when he pushed something against the back of her legs, at his word, she sat on it. She didn’t hear him kneel behind her, but her heart sighed softly as he placed her hands behind her back and once again lovingly wrapped and tied the ribbon loosely around her wrists. She could not interpret the next set of sounds, but knew exactly what he was doing when a brush touched the top of her head.

“Count one hundred strokes for me” he whispered, with just the smallest of chuckles in his voice. Purring, she did so. There was not a nerve in her body or a cell in her brain which was not tingling or crying out for him, crying out for all they had ever talked about and imagined. “…ninety eight, ninety nine, one hundred. Thank you, Sir. ” She heard the soft thud of the hair brush being put down and trembled as she felt his hand running over her hair giving it the hundred and first stroke.

Leaning over her, he kissed her cheek, put his hand under her arm and whispered “bedtime”. He led her along the side of the bed, pulled back the bedding, and fought the urge once again, but obedient to his plan he turned her body and helped her into his bed. His eyes lingering, caressing, he walked around to the other side and took his place next to her. Enclosing them both in the soft cocoon and holding her to himself, he slide his hand inside her nightdress, held her nipple tightly between his thumb and forefinger, and twisted it as far as it would go. “Tomorrow darling, tomorrow…”

CC,

You are a romantic tease. *hugs This is a beginning part to a story that has much promise and you ended with with a sadomasochistic twist to torment your readers. I'd like to read more. Will you continue it? :)

Nikita

She did do a wonderful job. I would be most interested in seeing
a part 2 myself.

Well SB, as you know that was a development of the first assignment you set me in writers' block. My current plan is that section 2 will form the first assignment in level two. So just maybe...

cariad

silent tears of joy

"You are earlier than usual," I stopped Mireille at the conclusion of her morning jog.

"Everyone glared at me," she paused then added," especially the other joggers."

I chuckled for a reply before directing her back inside. She obeyed immediately, trotting towards the house, the sunlight reflecting off the sweat coating her heart shaped asset with each step she took in the pleated micro mini skirt.

I wonder what the view was like from the front. Or rush hour traffic for that matter.

Although I've tried my hand at writing a bit, I've never felt comfortable posting anything. Till now! So all comments and thoughts will be very much appreciated...positive or negative! :rolleyes:


As she sat at the breakfast table drinking her morning coffee, she couldn’t help but think of the events leading up to what had to be the most erotic and submissive experience of her life. She glanced towards the window upon hearing the chirping sounds of birds outside. It was a beautiful spring morning. The sun was shining; the daffodils and dogwood trees were in bloom, and the sounds of the birds, so cheerful, so happy to have gotten that rain last night. She, however, barely noticed the beauty of the day. Her mind was filled, teaming over with thoughts and emotions. She gave an involuntary shiver as one of the many events of the previous night ran through her mind, for what had to be the millionth time.

“I can still taste her pussy,” she thought, as she unconsciously licked her lips. She could definitely feel where her ass had been flogged, whipped, and spanked, more so than any other time in her life. A smile crossed her face as she recalled the scenes. He was everything she had ever dreamed of and more. He had made so many of her fantasies come true in the space of an evening. Who else could do that but her Sir? Since meeting Him over eight months ago, He had taken her on a journey like none she had ever experienced. He had pushed a lot of her limits, had made her do and think things she never thought she could or would. And He always made sure she was okay with it, before, during, and after. He always gave her wonderful aftercare, since she had discovered how vulnerable and emotional she felt after a heavy scene. “Hell,” she thought, “I’ve even discovered that I enjoy heavy scenes!”

She giggled at the thought as she got up to rinse her coffee cup. She would have never imagined herself two years ago, as she was now. Two years ago she was just beginning to discover that all of the thoughts, fantasies, and secret desires she’d had all throughout her life, actually had a name. She recalled that porn video she had watched. That short, tiny clip that had given her her first glance into this lifestyle. The scene showed a slave tied with her arms above her head, as her Master circled her, telling her how she would be used by Him, and how she should stand for Him, with her ass and tits out. Occasionally He would strike her with His crop to make a point. She shuddered as she recalled the impact it had on her, how it had woken up that part of her she had always denied. She shook her head, laughing at herself, and at how much her life had since changed. “I am finally whole,” she thought, as a soft smile slowly crept upon her face.

She began cooking breakfast for the two of them. She knew she would only be allowed to eat if they so desired. As she waited for the water to boil for the oatmeal, her mind once again drifted to the previous night. She saw the scene so clearly in her mind. She could see herself tied tightly, face up, and spread eagle on the bed. Her legs spread wide open making her pussy so very vulnerable to them both. They had taken turns flogging her, across her breasts and nipples, her arms, her thighs, and then her pussy. As always, and it never failed to amaze her, her pussy was wet, so wet, that her juices had trickled down into the crack of her ass. As the water came to a boil and she added the oats in and stirred, she recalled how the Domme He had invited over to join them, had stroked her wet pussy, and after getting Her fingers soaked with her juices had shoved them in her mouth. “Damn, She knew just what I needed her to do,” she thought as she started the eggs. She arranged the two plates to look as appetizing as possible. She didn’t want them to be disappointed in her, in any way. As she got the orange juice out of the fridge, and waited on the toast, she fondly remembered how the Domme sat on her face forcing her to eat Her pussy, as her Sir was pounding His hard, thick cock into her own pussy. “She really didn’t have to force me,” she thought as she giggled out loud again. She noted the time and quickly arranged their plates on a tray. She got an extra plate and sat it to the side of her Sir’s plate, knowing that very soon, she would be eating what food they wanted her to from that plate. On her hands and knees too, just like the pet she was. Another shiver ran down her spine at the thought of that, and of all the many things they might do to her today, if it pleased them.

LTP...it's great to see you back and post...and especially a story. Very nice, i'm hoping to read more about the delivery of breakfast. ;)

Hot indeed, Ms. LTP! I will go oil my flogger and meet you later...:cool:

Thanks Talia!:) It's great to be back, although I never actually left....just sorta took a short break! And boy, am I ever paying for it! So many new members to get to know! Thanks for the welcome back sugar! And I'll do my best to make that breakfast one to remember! ;)

Nikita love....I'll be waiting, very impatiently! ;)

you never cease to amaze with your writing ltp but you already know my thoughts on your writings ;)

Glad you liked it love!:) Which reminds me, I have another story I need to work on, don't I?;)

learningtopleez: Wonderful story. I would be interested in reading more if at all possible.

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Originally Posted by learningtopleez

Glad you liked it love!:) Which reminds me, I have another story I need to work on, don't I?;)

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Yes you do beautiful. Now be a good girl and get to work on it! :)

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Originally Posted by RickBulow74

learningtopleez: Wonderful story. I would be interested in reading more if at all possible.

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Thank you Rick for that sweet compliment!:) And as soon as my schedule clears up a bit, I'll get back to work on this story as well!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ropenhighheels

Yes you do beautiful. Now be a good girl and get to work on it! :)

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As soon as time allows love...I haven't forgotten it!:)

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Originally Posted by learningtopleez

As soon as time allows love...I haven't forgotten it!:)

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Good girl. I look foward to it! :)

Simone was late at work one night and as she was getting ready to leave, she heard a SSSSSCRACK sound. Intrigued and a little damp, she looked around and heard the sounds coming from a conference room. She began to walk to the door to teh conference room and crack the door open a lttle bit. As she did, she heard the SSSSSCRACK of the whip once more and saw her boss whipping one of the other secretaries.

"You like it, slut?" The boss asked.

""Thank you Master may I please have another?" the secretary said.

The boss looked down and grinned, the SSSSCRACK of the whip once more on the secretary's ass as Simone looks on.

Simone ducked out of the conference room undetected and moved to the elevator, oblivious that she left a cumstain on the floor from the room to the elevator.

WOW ltp! :wave: very nice. VERY nice! I like the repetition od 'only if it pleases them'! Maybe you can give your character a name - it helps with narration.

more? MORE!:icon176:


RickBullow - I love vignettes like yours -like a very fast snapshot! Another one please?:)

Well thank you pej darlin'! For the compliment and the advice!:)

And Rick...I really liked your short take too!:)

I thank you kindly ltp. yours was nice as well. more please.

damn, you sweet and sexy lady

your story sure touched Me...well, it made Me touch Me...and it got My cock hard...you should have been writing ages ago...

I am going to have to read...and re-read...and re-read...I especially loved the part where you were tied down and flogged...and whre your pussy rubbed and fingered with your juices seeping down between your ass cheeks...and when the wet fingers thrust in your mouth...hmmm, maybe I just loved all of it

who needed breakfast after a night like that?

BRAVO....ENCORE, ENCORE
or...in lieu of an encore...some hot and heavy...wild and erotic...soft and senstive...pure, animal like sex

~applauding your work~
love
Bragi

LOL Thanks Bragi times three! Glad you liked the story so well! Haven't had time to work on it much of late, but it's always on my mind! Thanks for the praise love! :)

Hot stuff LTP, and your storie's quite erotic as well ;)

Nicely done sweets.

Now I'm going to think more about what you wrote :icon176:

Thank you orchid luv! :) And I think about what I wrote all the time...with you as the Domme of course! *purrrr*

I thought I'd try a little something. Breaking the rule about writing what you know (sorry, Sheepish!), but it just seemed to happen.



Serafina Herafeld von Tarken was regal beyond words. She came from a tall family within a tall nation, and she was taller than her brothers, who were all tall men. Every inch of her was fine-honed muscle, but she had all the voluptuous curves a man could die for. Today she wore red. A full-length wine-red dress, plunging at the front to show a cleavage you just itched to bury your nose in, and swooping so low at the back that you just see the little cleft at the base of her spine, leading your eyes so easily down, round and over her high, tight, very, very biteable butt.

She stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the drawing room, erect and graceful, staring moodily down across the rolling landscaped parkland. She turned and glared at the long case clock standing against the wall opposite. Twenty five minutes past.

“Pritt!” She called suddenly. “Play!”

Oh, boy, did I move fast! I had been lying on the floor behind the chaise longue, my usual place when she doesn’t want me, and to be honest I had been dozing off. Last night had been long and exhausting.

I scuttled quickly round the corner of the chaise, trying not to get my chain tangled around its legs, and scampered over to her as fast as I could. I licked her feet, whined, nuzzled the back of my head against her calves and wiggled my rear. She ignored me, staring at the clock, so I put my head and forearms flat on the ground and looked up at her from under my eyelashes in a way I hoped was cute and playful. I wagged my tail again and after a little moment risked the smallest of puppy play-with-me barks; followed quickly by an ingratiating whine.

She clicked her fingers at me, so I sprang back up onto all fours, bouncing and yapping in delight. She quieted me and patted my head.

“Good dog. Sit.” I sat. “Fetch!”

I don’t know where it had appeared from, but with her other hand she threw my favourite rubber quoit across the room. I reared up to watch it go, waiting eager and panting. I started to twitch to chase after it – but I couldn’t go until the Mistress said. Oooh, ooh, come on, it’s going to hit the –

“Go!”

I bounded away, skidding and getting tangled in my chain in my eagerness. It wrapped itself around one hand and I went down, but I didn’t stop, my eyes fixed on that rubber ring – it landed over behind the desk, bounced a bit and then rolled off towards the bookshelves. I scrabbled upwards and forgot myself in my eagerness to fetch my toy. I was shocked to hear my beautiful Mistress cry out,

“PRITT! Who said you could stand! All fours! At ONCE!”

I dropped back down immediately, a tingle of fear running down my spine – I knew I would pay for it later – but not allowing it to stop me going for the quoit. I rushed straight through the desk pedestals, shouldered the chair out of the way and caught up with the pesky rubber thing. There was just enough of a gap under the bookcase for it to fit, and it had managed to bounce its way under there. Only a couple of inches of it were sticking out. I bent my head down to try to pick it up, but I couldn’t come at it from the right angle, my nose kept getting in the way. I twisted and turned my head this way and that, but just couldn’t get it in my mouth. With each attempt, I managed to nudge it further under the bookcase. I heard my Mistress laugh. I wagged my tail for good measure and whined a bit. The sound of her footsteps told me that she had turned back to the window, so I tried cheating.

“PRITT!” She has eyes in the back of her divine head, I swear. “No hands! Never hands! You know that is completely forbidden!”

The rapid click of her pointed heels coming over the drawing room floor towards me told me that I was in extreme trouble. I cowered and whimpered and cringed, wondering if I should wet myself to show my terror. But I thought I should perhaps keep that for later. I had a bad feeling there was going to be a lot of later.

Her footsteps had stopped. I had my forearms stretched out and head down, but out of the corner of my eye I could just see the toe of one shoe, tapping up and down.

“Why do you do this? Why must you always upset me this way? I’m good to you, aren’t I? Speak.”

“Forgive this poor hound, Mistress, it is just a fool, it was just enjoying playing so for your pleasure, Mistress, I didn’t mean to stand up or use my hands, I - ” Her foot suddenly lashed forward and caught me in the ribs. Oh, not so very hard, just sharp enough to cut me off.

“Stop. You are babbling. I gave you permission to speak. Not to drivel.”

I kept my head pressed very firmly to the ground, my shoulders hunched, and gave a little shrill whimper.

“Now. Speak. And make sense.”

“This abject creature begs forgiveness, Mistress.”

“Continue. Explain to me why I should forgive you.”

“I merely wished to please, oh my most compassionate Mistress.” Cringing, I shuffled very slightly towards her, hoping for her mercy. She rewarded me with another kick. I stopped, frightened. I was unsure – she had not told me to stop talking or moving. But she had kicked me. What did she want? In the silence, I heard her toe tapping again.

“I wished only to distract you, Mistress, while you waited!” I blurted.

Kick. I yelped.

“You have distracted me, cur. Indeed you have. But the distraction is supposed to be pleasurable for me! Don’t you believe that is your purpose, dog, to give me pleasure?” Kick.

“Yes, always, Mistress, it is the only reason for my existence!” Kick.

Each kick jabbing the sharp toe of her shoe between two ribs. Each kick in exactly the same place: a masterpiece of accuracy. I flattened my face into the floor until I could feel the grain of the wood making patterns on my cheek. I crushed myself against the hard wood. I trembled, not in fear, but in shame to have angered my Mistress so.

“Well you have displeased me instead! I have better things to do than always to be watching out for your behaviour.” She kicked me again, but this time she aimed just beneath my ribs. I couldn’t help but gasp.

“Be quiet. No more speaking. No more sound at all. Do not move. You are a disgrace. I want to forget your presence. I don’t even know if I want you in the same room as me.” Oh, her voice was cold, it ran over me cold like a winter mountain stream, I shivered the whole length of my body and felt myself desolate. I wanted to plead, to beg her not to reject me, to offer my whole devotion and adoration, but I could not. I had to keep the longing and the love inside me, could not even let it show through my worshiping eyes.

Kick. Gasp.

She moved, slow footsteps walking round behind me. My buttocks clenched and the skin on my balls involuntarily started crawling. I began to shake in earnest. Sometimes when I had misbehaved, my Mistress would hurt me very badly. True, I didn’t feel that my misbehaviour today deserved extreme punishment. But she was in a very touchy mood. Rogaritz Marken, her lover, was late. He had been due at 10.00. Mistress was extremely unhappy.

“Spread.”

I moaned, spreading my thighs wide to expose myself fully to her ministrations. She leant down and grabbed at the base of my tail, which was attached to a large butt plug. She pulled it out fast, purposefully angling it so that it hurt. I threw my head back involuntarily and air rushed hard through my nose as I concentrated on not making a sound. Normally, at least I could speak. At least I could beg. I could plead, I could whimper. I wished I had wetted myself earlier – if I did that now, she would be furious. I knew that I no longer had that choice; anything would be done now only on and at her bidding.

She stepped back; I heard the plug land on the floor as she discarded it. I waited, tense, every sense strained, not knowing where she was or what she was about to do. I almost forgot to breathe…

I jumped suddenly as I felt the cool toe of my Mistress’ foot gently touch one of my shivering thighs. She traced slowly up the thigh, across my buttocks, down the other thigh. She has such perfect balance; I could sense she never wavered. I could picture her in my mind’s eye, with perfect poise and a cool, considering expression on her perfect face. She slipped her pointed toe into the top of the cleft between my cheeks, and ran it gently downwards, jabbing it briefly and sharply into my now available anus; then running it downwards again until the point of her shoe was pressing slightly against my tender, tender balls. She paused like that for a moment, giving me the opportunity to be fully thankful for her mercy, for not ramming her toe straight hard into them. She gave a little thoughtful jerk, just enough to hurt, and took her foot away. I wanted to swallow, but my throat was too dry.

Her footsteps moved across the floor again, heading for the opposite wall. I heard a door open, and my heart started hammering furiously. She had gone into her den, where she kept her equipment. I had never been permitted inside her den, so I didn’t know exactly what she had in there. Other than my collar and chain, which were never removed, and my tail, which was generally removed only to permit me to empty my bowels, Mistress very rarely used any object on me. She had me under almost perfect control through just her voice, her hands and her feet.

It hadn’t always been so. At first, so many years ago now it seemed like a dream, I had fought against my Mistress. This seems impossible to me now, but it was true. But she has given me long, caring, patient attention. Every day she would train me, teach me and show me just a little more of the great truth, which is that to adore and obey her, to live only for her pleasure and demand, was ecstasy; a bliss granted to so few.

But the training was very hard. I was stubborn and difficult, and my poor Mistress almost wore herself out for my sake. And even now, now that I am her grateful and adoring creature, still I forget, misbehave, cause her pain.

And so there I was, my face to the floor, waiting in fear and misery to learn her decision on how to punish me. I heard the door slam closed and her hard heels rang across the broad wood floor. I was shivering uncontrollably. Oh, my Mistress, oh, my Love, do not hurt me just because of him!

She was only a few feet away when suddenly there was a wild clamouring from the great bell hanging above the front entrance. Someone was pulling at the rope with fierce gusto! It must be Marken; a big, bluff man, strong enough to cause the house to reverberate, so loud was the ringing; strong enough to keep even my feisty Mistress in check.

Her footsteps stopped. I sensed her hesitate; from the hallway came the slam of the front door shutting and muffled laughter as Marken greeted the butler with a joke. The drawing-room entrance was flung roughly open and I heard his footsteps fast and heavy as he charged towards her with intent.

“Serafina! My darling!” his voice roared around the room. He came in like a gale, carrying all objections before him, and I heard her give a muffled gasp as he wrapped her in his embrace. “Forgive me for keeping you waiting, my beauty – oh, but what do you have there? I see you are all ready for me! Here, I’ll take it; I know just what to do with that! My sweet! Come, quickly, I can’t wait to have you and savour all your delights!”

She said not a word, but I could hear her breathing quicken. As they rushed across the room, there was a swish and a sharp slap, as of something alighting upon tight buttocks. It sounded like a crop, the instrument I guessed she had chosen to mete out her punishment on me, and that was now to be used on her, it seemed. I could just hear the air hiss between her pretty lips. The door to the den opened. The door to the den closed.

Saved by the bell.

That was GREAT moptop, i really enjoyed it!!

Thanks, frankee. I enjoyed writing it, too! I'm still feeling very shy about sharing any of what I write - but I guess the only way I can stop that & get better is just to go ahead and do it!

So on that basis: I just wrote this one - rather more what I do know about. I'm not convinced that makes me write it any better, if anything, I find it more difficult because I'm involved with it. Still, thought I'd share it. Hope you & others enjoy.

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She’d taken a great deal of care to look good; she’d spent quite a lot of money and, although she was feeling self-conscious, she felt sexy and she knew she looked good – she’d even got a whistle walking down to the station. Her knee-length black boots, with high heels and a buckled strap across the ankle, showed off her legs, and made her walk with her bust thrust out and hips swinging. Her black and white skirt was much shorter than she normally dared to wear, and she was enjoying the feel of the silky lining rubbing against her bare buttocks. She’d bought a new matching thong and uplift bra – very cute, black with pink bows. She was a little worried that he’d be annoyed with her for wearing the thong – he’d said she shouldn’t wear anything under skirts – but it was so pretty! She reassured herself that he would appreciate the triangle of black lace just at the top of her cleft, with its little pink bow, just so lusciously decorative. How could he resist?

This was an important meeting. They hadn’t seen each other for a month, and wouldn’t be seeing each other for another two months or more after this. They’d only spent time together three times before, five days, ten days, three days … but, ohhh, how good those times had been. He was so refreshingly uninhibited, just seemed to love delving into every part of her, and he had such an imagination! And how he’d been turning her on since then, constantly texting her with instructions, demands, fantasies… my God, she hadn’t had such fun in years. It made her feel intensely alive.

During the journey up to town to meet at his hotel, they talked and texted at intervals. She’d left a bit later than she should have, having taken too much time to dress. Her train was late. As she got nearer, he seemed to get terser. When she got off at the main station, she stopped for a cigarette, and he called her again.

“Where are you now?” He was quite abrupt. She told him she’d just arrived in town, but felt it best not to mention she’d stopped to smoke. He didn’t sound like he’d appreciate the wait. She was so nervous and so excited, though, nothing could dampen her bubbling happiness. She was going to see him! And, oh yes, they were going to fuck like rabbits. Again. And again.

She was aware her panties were wet. Following his instructions – although she had to call him again to check – she got to the hotel. She was muddle-headed with anticipation, knocked on the wrong room first off, couldn’t remember the number he’d given her and had to call him again. She was fairly giggling to herself when she knocked on his door – he must be excited too, he did sound brisk!

He opened the door and didn’t kiss her or put his arms round her, just stood to one side and said,

“Finally. Come in.”

She was too happy to register any concern, blithe with pleasure. She breezed in, chatting, apologising for mistaking the room number, and dumped her overnight bag on the chair. The room looked alr –

He grabbed her bag, threw it across the room and snarled,

“You’re late!” As she turned to him in shock, he grabbed her arm and dragged her roughly towards him, pulled her coat off and threw it across the room to join the bag.

Her cleavage showed itself to the full under the low-cut top, as her breathing became suddenly erratic. A tremor of fear went through her. After all, she really didn’t know him that well. When they’d met before, other people, family, had been around, known where she was, where he was… but this time, it was just him and her, in an anonymous room. What was happening?

She became painfully aware of the size of him, of his muscles, his strength; she felt tiny and insignificant, as though he could crush her with one hand.

“Good! Like the outfit!” He pushed her onto the bed and sat down in the chair. His barked approval was if anything even more confusing. He stared at her, and she found herself unable to meet his eye.

“Stand up.” She stood, uncertainly, feeling awkward, not quite knowing where to put herself.

“You are not allowed to keep me waiting. You are going to be punished. Lift up your skirt. Come here and bend over my knees.”

She started to shake very slightly. She pulled up her skirt at the back. She’d never been put over anyone’s knee, had only ever been slightly spanked, in play, by him, last time they’d met. He was already angry at her for being late, and now he was going to see she’d got a thong on as well – she’d never really taken his instructions that seriously, I mean, it was just play, just excitement, right? It didn’t matter, did it?

She was not so sure right now.

It didn’t occur to her for a second not to do as he commanded. His voice, his hard physical presence, the certainty in his tone left no room for doubt; she reacted instinctively to these things, conscious thought disappeared, fluttering away like moths.

She walked the few steps to him and bent her knees, starting to kneel, but he pulled her down across his lap and landed a huge slap across her arse. She made the smallest of noises in her throat.

“You will count the strokes. After each one, you will thank your Master.”

Her soul began to quiver inside with delight and wonder.

“One. Thank you, Master.”

He waited a moment, then smacked again.

“Two. Thank you, Master.”

She felt relief that he didn’t mention the thong. She seemed to have got away with it.

“Three. Thank you, Master.”

He had such big hands and he smacked her hard.

“Ten. Thank you, Master.”

Sometimes he smacked one cheek, sometimes the other, sometimes both.

“Fifteen. Thank you, Master.”

Her voice was getting weaker, her mind blanker.

“Twenty. Thank you, Master.”

A bare whisper.

He rubbed his hands across her hot cheeks, softly; then pulled down her skirt and pushed her off his lap. When she landed, she automatically knelt and faced him, head down.

“Behind you on the floor is a piece of paper. You will crawl over to fetch it, bring it back and read it out loud, kneeling in front of me. Now.”

She turned and saw the paper, crawled over to it and back, kneeling before him, bemused, feeling dread and reverence. She found it difficult to focus, difficult to read, difficult to speak, difficult to think.

This is what she read to him, in a small, faltering murmur:

“I’m sorry, Master, I really am. I promise I won’t be late again. I know that I am lucky to be your slave and privileged that you choose to use me as you do. Please let me make it up to you. Use me, hurt me, have me in any way you can think of. I will do anything as long as I can remain your cum slut.”

Her voice had disappeared almost to nothing as she finished, but she found she had tears in her eyes, that she felt with desperation exactly the emotion written there, although the words were not her own. Hesitantly she raised her face to look at him, so that he could read in her eyes that she truly meant it.

He was staring down at her with that brutal look he had sometimes, fierce and implacable. She was completely immobilised.

“That’s not good enough. You didn’t say it with enough feeling.”

She felt stricken, but had no time to deal with the thought as he pulled her up and across his knees again. This time he spanked her very fast and extremely hard. She started to count and thank him, but he told her to be quiet. Although she then tried not to make a sound, he was really hurting her, and she yelped as he hit her, shaking in her effort to stay still, open to him.

“Now. Get on your knees and suck my cock, and do it well, do it like you mean it.”

She tumbled back to her knees and reached trembling hands out to undo his belt, fumbling like a virgin with his button and zip. He didn’t help her to undress him other than to lift his butt to allow her to pull the jeans down. His cock was hard and pressing against the cotton of his shorts, she had trouble easing the elastic over it, frightened to hurt him. God, his beautiful cock – she rushed to pull his shorts off, his socks went with them; she was salivating hard, and the crotch of her thong was soaked. She could smell herself. She knelt back up and wrapped his great penis in one hand, gently, reverently, and lowered her lips down to it. She licked the tip, then up and down the shaft, just circled between a finger and thumb to hold it at the right angle. She licked her lips and put them gently around his prick, moving her tongue over and just around the edge of its tip. She lifted herself higher and started to suck, making a vacuum with her mouth, then pushed the whole length of him slowly into her throat, as deep as she could. She kept her hand moving up and down the lower part of his shaft as her mouth moved back to the top, sometimes taking him out of her mouth to lick his length, then plunging it deep in her throat again to make him gasp.

He spread his legs wider, so she massaged his balls gently with her other hand. She started to move her head in a regular rhythm. She put all her effort – and, she felt with some pride, skill – into giving him pleasure. He was breathing hard. He grabbed her head, twisting his fingers in her hair so it hurt, and used her mouth, fucking it hard, forcing himself into her so she found it hard to breathe, until she gagged slightly. She heard him snort – he liked her gagging, liked to know she was pushing herself to take all of him. His breathing was ragged now, and she was intensely excited, making little moaning noises to herself, and sopping wet.

He pulled her off him suddenly, holding her head up and staring into her eyes hard, letting her see how she had moved him. His nostrils flared as he fought to control himself. She knew he wouldn’t come from her sucking him, however much he enjoyed it, but she could also tell he badly wanted to fuck her, right now, really hard; although that wasn’t his intention.

“That’s enough for the moment. You can stand up now.” He held her gently to steady her as she stood, smoothing her skirt down, her bottom stinging but, she realised, certainly able and ready to take more. She wondered if there would be any more. She hoped there would be…

“Let’s have a look at you, then.”

He got up, stripped off his shirt and lay down on his back on the bed, smiling. She laughed and turned round for him. “I definitely like those boots. Take your skirt and top off for me.” She was shy but eager. She loved that he enjoyed her body, seeming genuinely to find it beautiful, to enjoy all its curves and crevices. She babbled a bit as she undressed for him, apologising for the thong but explaining the set was new, she’d bought it specially for him. He just grinned and indicated her to twirl by spinning a finger.

“You’re right, it is very pretty. You’re lucky. You almost got an extra five.” He got up from the bed. “Take off the thong and the bra. You can keep your boots and stockings on. Then come over here and lie on your back.”

Ah. There was more. Immediately she felt her brain start to slip away somewhere; a thrum of excitement went through her. She took off her underwear and crawled over the bed, nicely aware of her butt in the air, aware of his still erect penis so near her lips, aware that he would be able to smell her too. She lay down in the middle. As she was arranging herself, he took a bag out of the bedside table drawer and rummaged in it. He pulled out a pair of black cuffs and grinned at her again. “I’ve been shopping. But you’ll have to wait to see the rest. Arms above your head.”

He put both cuffs on her wrists, obviously enjoying the moment just as she was. He checked with her that they were comfortable, then walked round to the other side of the bed and bent down to pick something up. He re-appeared holding one end of a thick red cotton rope. She was in a state of anticipation now, so she didn’t notice the details as he attached the first cuff to the rope. She just noticed with a sense of disappointment that it was pretty loose. She liked tight. No-one had tied her up for so long… let it be tight.

He was fastening the other cuff, and pulled on the rope. Oh! It was the same rope, threaded under the bed – so as he pulled on one end, it pulled her arms in opposite directions, stretching them apart… God, that was a surprise, it had been completely hidden and it felt so good. Part of her normal mind registered that he had obviously gone to some trouble to prepare this in a hotel room and wondered how he’d rigged it up. Well, he was an engineer. They’re good at ropes, and counter-levers, and stuff…

“Mmmm.” He ran his hands over her body, just briefly squeezing each breast, stroking the inside of her thighs as she opened her legs for him. She wondered if he was going to attach her ankles as well. She thrust her pelvis up towards him, feeling herself pulse and juice.

Then he turned round and started dressing. She lay and stared at him. The bastard, she thought. He’s going to go for a drink. I know he is. He’s going to leave me tied up here and go to the bar. The bastard!

But she said nothing. She couldn’t speak, she was enjoying herself too much, and too much in his thrall. She watched his every movement: how he put on his socks, how he did up his belt. Oh and that little smug smirk on his face! She wriggled slightly, curled her legs up, pressing them together, to try to give her pussy some respite. She spread them again. Every time she moved, it made one arm pull the other, so she was always slightly twisted unless she lay still. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was strangely disorienting. She had no control over it.

He walked to the other corner of the room and picked up her coat. Smiling slightly at her, he placed it over her.

“There. Can’t have my little cum slut getting cold, now, can I?” She just gazed up at him, overcome suddenly by a wash of gratitude and tenderness.

“I’m going for a drink and a smoke. I’ll be back later.” He gave her one last grin and she managed one defiant mutter out loud,

“You bastard!”

She wasn’t sure whether he’d heard her and chosen to ignore it. She rather thought he had. That little smirk.

He shut the door, leaving her wriggling slightly to herself, indignant, delighted, annoyed, thrumming.

Then the lights went out.

Have mercy moptop! Not just one, but two lovely tails :D to read?? I loved them both, and you should not be shy about sharing your writing! Pleez share more??:) Especially the second one! It really got me all hot and bothered! Encore!

oh good god!:)

i agree with ltp...don't be shy about sharing your writing, that was awesome!

Oh, goody, I'm so pleased you enjoyed them! Yes, the first one was really just an experiment in story telling (a personal 'what if?'); but the second one, well... I certainly enjoyed it! heh heh. I shall try to do more... thanks for reading them, thanks for the feedback.

YAY!! We get more:)

Um - eventually, frankee. I have started writing part 2 (echoes is nagging me!) but I think it might take a while.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by moptop

Um - eventually, frankee. I have started writing part 2 (echoes is nagging me!) but I think it might take a while.

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hmmph! I do not nag...just remind softly once in a while :32:


...soooo part two? :D

*(stomps away grumbling, they think this inspiration just comes out of nowhere, don't realise the blood, sweat and tears that goes into it, want everything at once, I have to eat sometimes don't I, grumble mutter, snfrlgrhmph.)*

Yes yes yes alright I'm working on it!