His eyes are mocking, but there's a flicker of wariness. She's so hungry for him, can he keep control? "My, my, you're dying for it tonight," he murmurs.
"Do me."
He chuckles, "What? Did you really just say that?"
"Yes, I'll do anything you want, but, please, do me now."
His hand reaches out to her, hangs in the air for a moment, strokes her face. "I'll hold you to it, you know that, I'll use you now anyway, then I'll make you do things that make you sick tomorrow."
"I don't care, I put myself in your hands, I trust you."
He shivers imperceptibly. Does she know what it does to him when she says that? He'd do anything she wants just to hear that, to see her eyes, gazing up at him so vulnerable, so helpless, so infinitely strong.
Instead of telling her this, he just smirks. "Oh dear. Bad judge of character."
She doesn't waver. Brave.
"Open up," he commands.
Her lips part instantly, fingers slide inside, and her eyes close. He doesn't know why she likes it so much, just knows that her mind is slowing down, that she feels like a drug is coursing through her veins, that she's getting wet. He's given her lots of addictions over the years, but this one was hard wired before they met.
He takes the time to think. What does she need from him? How can he take her to the place where she's satisfied? She might think she wants something brutal, for the pain to be beaten out of her, but his job is to know her better than she does herself.
"Be still for me," he whispers in her ear as he slowly glides her clothes from her body. She's as peaceful and glowing as a saint, yet he can see her muscles twitch as he caresses her so lightly it's on the edge of tickling.
She gasps when she feels him kissing her clit. Her flesh is hot and slippery and the coolness of his mouth just fires her all the more. He senses and leads her pleasure through his tongue: wide, slow licks become a rapid pattering rain, then slide into an irresistible spiralling motion.
As her orgasm approaches, he pulls away and gets up. She mewls plaintively. "Keep your eyes closed, stay standing," he tells her, his cold tone not giving away that he's watching her with a massive grin. The room is warm, so he knows her shuddering is caused by her extreme arousal.
He waits just beyond the point that where she wonders if he's still in the room, then orders, "Fall backwards." On some level she knows the bed is there of course, but she obeys too quickly for her to have considered this first.
He pins her down, fucks her, no need for anything fancy, she's completely his already.
After a while she opens her eyes without thinking, they flicker in fear, but he smiles kindly. "Shh, it's OK," he tells her. They both see nothing but the other's gaze, feel no barriers, melt into each other. "Ahh, f..." He loses words as she comes around him, he pulses deep inside her, everything is bliss for an endless moment.
He holds her close as she drifts off, marvelling again at how all he has to do to please her is do exactly what he wants to do to please himself.
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Friday, 6 January 2012
Sunday, 30 October 2011
Queen Me
Max was so cute and vulnerable in the mornings, snuggling into her like a little boy. Sofia wrapped her arms around him, feeling protective, it was nice to be the one doing the comforting at times like these, and she knew he liked it too, although he wouldn't admit it.
He turned to look at her, half-lidded. She ran her fingers around his lips, and he kissed them sleepily, then took them in his mouth. Sofia started to breathe heavily, his tongue was soft and compelling, she wanted it elsewhere.
"Go down, for me, Max," she whispered smoothly. His eyes widened for a moment, before fluttering shut. He gently kissed his way down her neck, sucking and nibbling her breasts, then following the path down to her clit.
Sofia held onto his head with reverence, it was a precious gift for him to pleasure her like this - not just with his tongue, that was used frequently and efficiently to melt her mind and make her beg. What was rare was this mood of service, of worship. She felt like something perfect, that he longed to be close to, lived to make happy. She could barely breathe.
His eyes opened, they were distant and deep, so given over that she shivered as she felt herself echoing them. As they lost themselves in each other, the feelings turned into endless warm waves of pleasure, and he seemed as overtaken by the climax as she was.
They lay there a while, Sofia cradling Max's head to her belly, enjoying the quiet and intimacy. After a while, as he wriggled up to face her, she noted that he was still rock hard.
"Hey, Sofe, did you just trigger me?" He asked.
She chuckled, it had been years since he'd let her hypnotise him. "No, babe, you've never let me set any up."
He smiled oddly. "Mmm, shame, it really felt like you did."
Sofia stroked his back thoughtfully, she knew Max wasn't into traditional sub/dom roles or anything, but he did generally enjoy being in control and easily resisted her if she tried to top him.
Still, he certainly seemed to be suggesting he'd like her to be in charge for a while, and she was getting turned on again by the prospect. "I guess your subconscious desires just did all the work for me..." she murmured seductively.
The air became charged, flickering, Max's mouth opened slightly, as if he was going to say something, but then didn't know how to respond. That was unheard of, and Sofia pressed her advantage.
She lightly guided him onto his back, then knelt over him, leaning forwards, doing something clever with her arms to make her breasts look mouthwatering. "Maybe it's time to let them out, admit that you want to let down your defences, relax, open up..."
He let out a slight whimper and his eyes glazed. His body slumped into the bed, but his prick was raging, trying to push its way inside her achingly close hole. She kept herself a fraction out of reach, still whispering soft soothing words, until he was panting with desire. "Ahhh, Sofia! Please!"
She laughed gently, amazed to hear him beg for something he would usually take in an instant. "Shhh, Maxie... Listen carefully..." She held his cock millimetres inside her entrance for a few seconds, saying firmly: "Your pleasure comes from my pleasure. Accept."
Max groaned and nodded desperately, "yes, yes, I accept..."
"Good boy!" She pushed down onto him slowly, then waited to see what he would do.
There was a pause while his eyes rolled back, but then he managed to shift gears, watching her carefully as he started to thrust into her at her favourite pace, stimulating the right points to give her maximum gratification.
He stroked her back and thighs, then pulled her hips down in rhythm with his cock. Sofia smiled in encouragement, trying to stay in charge despite the ecstasy he was bringing her. It was a strange feeling, this was just a hair breadth from him controlling her, after all they both knew that what she loved most of all was him pressing her buttons, puppeting her with her own needs. How would he be able to push her over without that moment of surrender?
They looked at each other with something pure and intense flowing between them.
"Tell me what you're thinking," she gasped.
He struggled for a moment, used to being guarded with his thoughts, but then just let the words flow out, "Ah, not really thinking straight... just want to make you happy... make you feel good... you're so fucking amazing..."
Sofia melted, she leant down and kissed him deeply, then they rolled over a little as she stroked his hair and gazed at him lovingly.
"Use me," Max breathed, "take everything I've got..."
Sofia hesitated, but his face radiated a need to play this game. She imagined his will becoming hers, could feel the energy flowing into her, she was like a vampire, powerful and irresistible. He seemed to be getting weaker, but more and more beautiful, she just couldn't stop herself, the feral passions overtaking her as she fucked him hard and wild.
He seemed to be on the point of breaking, "Ah, please, destroy me..."
"Why? Why are you doing this?" She hissed, feeling close to ripping his throat out with her teeth.
His eyes were drifting closed, the last of his strength going. "Because you're everything... my life... my Queen..."
She came hard, and took him with her, somehow feeding the life back into him as they shared heartbeats. When Max opened his eyes again, they were a little wary, but had the familiar mischievous glint back in them.
"Blimey, Sofe, fancy you making me do all that!"
She shook her head in faux incredulity. "Yeah, I was totally taking advantage, wasn't I?"
He smirked at her, on familiar ground again. "You really were, I hope you're not imagining I'm going to call you shit like that from now on."
Sofia didn't bother answering, just started wrestling him, enjoying the press of his body against hers as he asserted himself. She was happy to know that despite their preferred dynamic, some part of him was always her willing, grateful subject.
He turned to look at her, half-lidded. She ran her fingers around his lips, and he kissed them sleepily, then took them in his mouth. Sofia started to breathe heavily, his tongue was soft and compelling, she wanted it elsewhere.
"Go down, for me, Max," she whispered smoothly. His eyes widened for a moment, before fluttering shut. He gently kissed his way down her neck, sucking and nibbling her breasts, then following the path down to her clit.
Sofia held onto his head with reverence, it was a precious gift for him to pleasure her like this - not just with his tongue, that was used frequently and efficiently to melt her mind and make her beg. What was rare was this mood of service, of worship. She felt like something perfect, that he longed to be close to, lived to make happy. She could barely breathe.
His eyes opened, they were distant and deep, so given over that she shivered as she felt herself echoing them. As they lost themselves in each other, the feelings turned into endless warm waves of pleasure, and he seemed as overtaken by the climax as she was.
They lay there a while, Sofia cradling Max's head to her belly, enjoying the quiet and intimacy. After a while, as he wriggled up to face her, she noted that he was still rock hard.
"Hey, Sofe, did you just trigger me?" He asked.
She chuckled, it had been years since he'd let her hypnotise him. "No, babe, you've never let me set any up."
He smiled oddly. "Mmm, shame, it really felt like you did."
Sofia stroked his back thoughtfully, she knew Max wasn't into traditional sub/dom roles or anything, but he did generally enjoy being in control and easily resisted her if she tried to top him.
Still, he certainly seemed to be suggesting he'd like her to be in charge for a while, and she was getting turned on again by the prospect. "I guess your subconscious desires just did all the work for me..." she murmured seductively.
The air became charged, flickering, Max's mouth opened slightly, as if he was going to say something, but then didn't know how to respond. That was unheard of, and Sofia pressed her advantage.
She lightly guided him onto his back, then knelt over him, leaning forwards, doing something clever with her arms to make her breasts look mouthwatering. "Maybe it's time to let them out, admit that you want to let down your defences, relax, open up..."
He let out a slight whimper and his eyes glazed. His body slumped into the bed, but his prick was raging, trying to push its way inside her achingly close hole. She kept herself a fraction out of reach, still whispering soft soothing words, until he was panting with desire. "Ahhh, Sofia! Please!"
She laughed gently, amazed to hear him beg for something he would usually take in an instant. "Shhh, Maxie... Listen carefully..." She held his cock millimetres inside her entrance for a few seconds, saying firmly: "Your pleasure comes from my pleasure. Accept."
Max groaned and nodded desperately, "yes, yes, I accept..."
"Good boy!" She pushed down onto him slowly, then waited to see what he would do.
There was a pause while his eyes rolled back, but then he managed to shift gears, watching her carefully as he started to thrust into her at her favourite pace, stimulating the right points to give her maximum gratification.
He stroked her back and thighs, then pulled her hips down in rhythm with his cock. Sofia smiled in encouragement, trying to stay in charge despite the ecstasy he was bringing her. It was a strange feeling, this was just a hair breadth from him controlling her, after all they both knew that what she loved most of all was him pressing her buttons, puppeting her with her own needs. How would he be able to push her over without that moment of surrender?
They looked at each other with something pure and intense flowing between them.
"Tell me what you're thinking," she gasped.
He struggled for a moment, used to being guarded with his thoughts, but then just let the words flow out, "Ah, not really thinking straight... just want to make you happy... make you feel good... you're so fucking amazing..."
Sofia melted, she leant down and kissed him deeply, then they rolled over a little as she stroked his hair and gazed at him lovingly.
"Use me," Max breathed, "take everything I've got..."
Sofia hesitated, but his face radiated a need to play this game. She imagined his will becoming hers, could feel the energy flowing into her, she was like a vampire, powerful and irresistible. He seemed to be getting weaker, but more and more beautiful, she just couldn't stop herself, the feral passions overtaking her as she fucked him hard and wild.
He seemed to be on the point of breaking, "Ah, please, destroy me..."
"Why? Why are you doing this?" She hissed, feeling close to ripping his throat out with her teeth.
His eyes were drifting closed, the last of his strength going. "Because you're everything... my life... my Queen..."
She came hard, and took him with her, somehow feeding the life back into him as they shared heartbeats. When Max opened his eyes again, they were a little wary, but had the familiar mischievous glint back in them.
"Blimey, Sofe, fancy you making me do all that!"
She shook her head in faux incredulity. "Yeah, I was totally taking advantage, wasn't I?"
He smirked at her, on familiar ground again. "You really were, I hope you're not imagining I'm going to call you shit like that from now on."
Sofia didn't bother answering, just started wrestling him, enjoying the press of his body against hers as he asserted himself. She was happy to know that despite their preferred dynamic, some part of him was always her willing, grateful subject.
Monday, 11 July 2011
New Release
Molly's feet took her to the same place in the record shop every time she came in, it wasn't that she thought there'd be anything unexpected there, it was more a compulsive act, the comfort of running her fingers through his albums, reassuring herself that he was somewhere, doing what he loved.
She gazed for a while at his newest release, she already had it at home of course, she pre-ordered anything by his band, knowing it would be a necessary purchase. The drawing on the front seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it. There was a naive yet archetypal air about it, perhaps it was something she'd seen him do in college, or just done in a similar style.
The songs seemed to be sending her a message too, but she wasn't sure what it was, maybe she'd catch him at the gig that night and ask him about it. At least it would be a topic of conversation to distract her from the gnawing ache of his presence.
"I've heard that's an OK album." His voice came from behind her. She closed her eyes for a moment before moving, overcome by the inevitable mix of emotions: shame at looking like a stalker, bursting joy at being able to talk to him.
Niall stood a little too close to her, forcing Molly to brush against him as she turned, but he didn't step away, just hovering inches away from pressing her into the racks.
"Yeah, it's not bad, handy for background music." She smiled the goofy, beautiful smile of someone talking to their teenage crush, their closest and yet most absent friend, their not quite ex, not quite fuckbuddy, not quite anything that would make sense.
He chuckled and played with her hair. She let him, accepting as always that her body was his playground. His aura was fading the shop into unreality, as if they were in a parallel universe and could happily make out without anyone around noticing.
"I wrote it for you, of course," he said in that light but serious tone that he used when he was dropping bombshells.
"Yeah? Do I get the royalties?" She was being cheeky on autopilot, but couldn't hide her confusion at his revelation.
"If you like," he said dreamily, still staring at her with massively dilated pupils. Was he on drugs? Why was he being so kind when he'd been cold and distant the last few times they'd met?
"God, Niall, what's got into you?"
He shrugged bashfully, and stroked her arm. "I dunno, just been missing you I guess..."
She shivered, still not understanding, but unable to pretend she didn't enjoy his touch. "Uh, well, shall we go for a coffee or something?"
Niall leant into her, put his mouth to her ear. "I'd rather we just went back to my hotel and fucked."
Molly snorted, but he seemed sincere enough, his cock, hard against her leg, didn't lie. "Oh, Nee, I've got to get ready for tonight and stuff..."
He frowned, "Bollocks to that, I don't care what you're wearing, and you're not bothered about what anyone else thinks." He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door. "Come on, quickly, that guy over there's looking like he wants to talk to me about amps or something..."
She giggled and followed him, young and carefree again, enjoying the easy banter they fell into as they walked the short distance, breezing through reception and up to his room.
He didn't leave her time to get awkward, immediately kissing her hungrily, then making her chase his lips once she needed it more than he did. She was panting and bright eyed by the time he pushed her onto the bed and put on the album they'd been discussing earlier.
Molly laughed, "Not sick of hearing the sound of your own voice yet?"
Niall flopped down next to her. "I want to watch you listen to it."
Something had shifted, now she was the one being stalked, but it was oddly safe, because it was him. They moved around until he was up against the headboard, and she was leaning back onto him. As he put his arms around her, Molly closed her eyes and drifted into the long, slow opening track.
She was pretty sure this one hinted at their first, yearning friendship as teenagers. It made her remember those significant glances through flickering firelight in the woods, across the art studio, even just as they listened to music in the bedroom without needing to talk. The blissful howl of knowing your feelings were shared, but not seeing how to move forward without breaking perfection.
Her eyes opened as she tilted her head to look up at him. They could have been back there, just before they went to different universities, that weekend that tore her apart. They'd done things before that, tentative experiments, the odd drunken fuck, but they'd agreed to spend the whole time her parents were away together, and naturally, their bodies had taken over.
Something wild had come out, something they'd both been ashamed of in the light of day, not really understanding what it meant. Afterwards, it seemed easier to hold onto the closeness without trying have a relationship based on that abyss. Unfortunately, once she knew it was possible to feel like that, nothing else had ever lived up to it.
Niall's face was a sweet mix of regret and longing. "I was such a fucking idiot."
Molly's chest was painful, but it felt good, like something that had been holding her back was breaking apart. She grinned and wriggled round to sit astride him. "I know, you always have been."
"Yeah, I should have just taken you with me in a box." He followed her jokey tone, but his eyes glinted with dark purpose.
She swallowed. Their irregular hook ups since that time had been fed by head games, they trusted each other to go to places they'd never dare with anyone else, and it was surely time to take a risk. "I wish you had, you could have kept me under your desk, fed me scraps and made me do anything you said when you let me out occasionally."
They were both getting aroused by the scenario, and with eerie timing the music became more insistent, a song that had reminded Molly of their most intense sessions, and the deep things she'd fantasised about but never done.
Niall slowly ran his hands up her thighs, "Mmm, but maybe that would have been too easy..."
Molly could feel his cock pressing into her, and was finding it difficult to follow what he was saying. "Easy?" she mumbled breathlessly.
His left hand slipped round to stroke her behind, while his right toyed with her clit. She always felt like a guitar when he played her like this. "Yeah, too obvious, much better to just trap you by being the only guy who understands you, the only one who can give you what you need..."
She whimpered a little as she felt something slide out of her grasp. Something he owned in her, that he could call to his service whenever he wanted to. His eyes were soft and caring, but his fingers manipulated her thoughts. She was utterly lost. "Niall... please..."
"Please what, Moll?"
She just gaped at him, mouth slack, unable to articulate the depths of her need.
He gave his kindly patronising look. "Please fuck you?"
She nodded desperately and he rolled her onto her side, pushed his trousers down a little, got a condom on, and slid inside her, all the while murmuring to keep her calm and responsive as if she was a nervous animal.
With her legs hooked around his, the weight of his body against her, she was captured and protected in delicious balance. The song was timed to the rhythm of his cock in her, she'd almost been able to feel it every time she'd listened, and now it was really there she had no defences left.
"You realise I'm keeping you now," he whispered into her open mind.
She nodded blurrily, no thought for the consequences, all she wanted was to do this forever.
He watched her carefully, gauging her reactions, "of course you might start to feel like you're just my little groupie slut to be used when I'm bored..."
The emotional pain made her whine and struggle, but he put his hand over her mouth, shushing her and pumping into her cunt until she stopped fighting.
"...but I'd help you get over your silly fears and insecurities..." his hand was tender now, stroking her face.
Molly could barely breathe, tears were starting to well up as she accepted his kindness, all the more potent because it was laced with cruelty.
"...remind you of what you're always known deep down..." he carried on with the soothing stream of words, "... that you're always safe with me, that we belong together..."
Her heart sang, Niall seemed to be glowing, everything was so fucking perfect she felt like she was dreaming.
"...it's always been you I write for, you're my muse, I put all of my power into these songs, and I know you belong to me more every time you listen..."
It should have been scary, weird, obsessive, but from his lips it sounded like the most romantic words anyone had ever said. She felt herself starting to build towards an orgasm and held onto him as if nothing else existed.
"...I know your patterns, how to guide you, take you where I want..." he slowed his thrusting, seeming to be waiting for something, Molly just hung there with him, not having the willpower to grind down. Soon, Niall started again, the deep fucking that would inevitably make her come, and she started to half remember something, didn't she always feel an echo of this when she got to this point in the album? Not as much of course, but... yes... there was that bit that went....
Her eyes rolled back and she came hard: the feeling she'd been desperate for since she first played the track and helplessly responded to it. The addiction he'd stoked in her, irresistible because it was real, because she really did need him.
They lay there for a while, listening to the runout groove effect that represented the end of side one if they'd been listening on record. Niall gently disentangled her and went to turn off his mp3 player. "We'll save side two for after the gig, eh?" He sat on the bed, a little shy after the rawness of what they'd just been through.
Molly slowly came back to reality, but still felt fluttery and vulnerable. "Nee... have you been sending me subliminal messages?" she asked half-seriously.
He looked a bit embarrassed, "Would you mind if I had?"
She shook her head, genuinely fine with the prospect.
He grinned like a naughty little boy. "Then, it doesn't really matter does it?"
She gazed for a while at his newest release, she already had it at home of course, she pre-ordered anything by his band, knowing it would be a necessary purchase. The drawing on the front seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it. There was a naive yet archetypal air about it, perhaps it was something she'd seen him do in college, or just done in a similar style.
The songs seemed to be sending her a message too, but she wasn't sure what it was, maybe she'd catch him at the gig that night and ask him about it. At least it would be a topic of conversation to distract her from the gnawing ache of his presence.
"I've heard that's an OK album." His voice came from behind her. She closed her eyes for a moment before moving, overcome by the inevitable mix of emotions: shame at looking like a stalker, bursting joy at being able to talk to him.
Niall stood a little too close to her, forcing Molly to brush against him as she turned, but he didn't step away, just hovering inches away from pressing her into the racks.
"Yeah, it's not bad, handy for background music." She smiled the goofy, beautiful smile of someone talking to their teenage crush, their closest and yet most absent friend, their not quite ex, not quite fuckbuddy, not quite anything that would make sense.
He chuckled and played with her hair. She let him, accepting as always that her body was his playground. His aura was fading the shop into unreality, as if they were in a parallel universe and could happily make out without anyone around noticing.
"I wrote it for you, of course," he said in that light but serious tone that he used when he was dropping bombshells.
"Yeah? Do I get the royalties?" She was being cheeky on autopilot, but couldn't hide her confusion at his revelation.
"If you like," he said dreamily, still staring at her with massively dilated pupils. Was he on drugs? Why was he being so kind when he'd been cold and distant the last few times they'd met?
"God, Niall, what's got into you?"
He shrugged bashfully, and stroked her arm. "I dunno, just been missing you I guess..."
She shivered, still not understanding, but unable to pretend she didn't enjoy his touch. "Uh, well, shall we go for a coffee or something?"
Niall leant into her, put his mouth to her ear. "I'd rather we just went back to my hotel and fucked."
Molly snorted, but he seemed sincere enough, his cock, hard against her leg, didn't lie. "Oh, Nee, I've got to get ready for tonight and stuff..."
He frowned, "Bollocks to that, I don't care what you're wearing, and you're not bothered about what anyone else thinks." He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door. "Come on, quickly, that guy over there's looking like he wants to talk to me about amps or something..."
She giggled and followed him, young and carefree again, enjoying the easy banter they fell into as they walked the short distance, breezing through reception and up to his room.
He didn't leave her time to get awkward, immediately kissing her hungrily, then making her chase his lips once she needed it more than he did. She was panting and bright eyed by the time he pushed her onto the bed and put on the album they'd been discussing earlier.
Molly laughed, "Not sick of hearing the sound of your own voice yet?"
Niall flopped down next to her. "I want to watch you listen to it."
Something had shifted, now she was the one being stalked, but it was oddly safe, because it was him. They moved around until he was up against the headboard, and she was leaning back onto him. As he put his arms around her, Molly closed her eyes and drifted into the long, slow opening track.
She was pretty sure this one hinted at their first, yearning friendship as teenagers. It made her remember those significant glances through flickering firelight in the woods, across the art studio, even just as they listened to music in the bedroom without needing to talk. The blissful howl of knowing your feelings were shared, but not seeing how to move forward without breaking perfection.
Her eyes opened as she tilted her head to look up at him. They could have been back there, just before they went to different universities, that weekend that tore her apart. They'd done things before that, tentative experiments, the odd drunken fuck, but they'd agreed to spend the whole time her parents were away together, and naturally, their bodies had taken over.
Something wild had come out, something they'd both been ashamed of in the light of day, not really understanding what it meant. Afterwards, it seemed easier to hold onto the closeness without trying have a relationship based on that abyss. Unfortunately, once she knew it was possible to feel like that, nothing else had ever lived up to it.
Niall's face was a sweet mix of regret and longing. "I was such a fucking idiot."
Molly's chest was painful, but it felt good, like something that had been holding her back was breaking apart. She grinned and wriggled round to sit astride him. "I know, you always have been."
"Yeah, I should have just taken you with me in a box." He followed her jokey tone, but his eyes glinted with dark purpose.
She swallowed. Their irregular hook ups since that time had been fed by head games, they trusted each other to go to places they'd never dare with anyone else, and it was surely time to take a risk. "I wish you had, you could have kept me under your desk, fed me scraps and made me do anything you said when you let me out occasionally."
They were both getting aroused by the scenario, and with eerie timing the music became more insistent, a song that had reminded Molly of their most intense sessions, and the deep things she'd fantasised about but never done.
Niall slowly ran his hands up her thighs, "Mmm, but maybe that would have been too easy..."
Molly could feel his cock pressing into her, and was finding it difficult to follow what he was saying. "Easy?" she mumbled breathlessly.
His left hand slipped round to stroke her behind, while his right toyed with her clit. She always felt like a guitar when he played her like this. "Yeah, too obvious, much better to just trap you by being the only guy who understands you, the only one who can give you what you need..."
She whimpered a little as she felt something slide out of her grasp. Something he owned in her, that he could call to his service whenever he wanted to. His eyes were soft and caring, but his fingers manipulated her thoughts. She was utterly lost. "Niall... please..."
"Please what, Moll?"
She just gaped at him, mouth slack, unable to articulate the depths of her need.
He gave his kindly patronising look. "Please fuck you?"
She nodded desperately and he rolled her onto her side, pushed his trousers down a little, got a condom on, and slid inside her, all the while murmuring to keep her calm and responsive as if she was a nervous animal.
With her legs hooked around his, the weight of his body against her, she was captured and protected in delicious balance. The song was timed to the rhythm of his cock in her, she'd almost been able to feel it every time she'd listened, and now it was really there she had no defences left.
"You realise I'm keeping you now," he whispered into her open mind.
She nodded blurrily, no thought for the consequences, all she wanted was to do this forever.
He watched her carefully, gauging her reactions, "of course you might start to feel like you're just my little groupie slut to be used when I'm bored..."
The emotional pain made her whine and struggle, but he put his hand over her mouth, shushing her and pumping into her cunt until she stopped fighting.
"...but I'd help you get over your silly fears and insecurities..." his hand was tender now, stroking her face.
Molly could barely breathe, tears were starting to well up as she accepted his kindness, all the more potent because it was laced with cruelty.
"...remind you of what you're always known deep down..." he carried on with the soothing stream of words, "... that you're always safe with me, that we belong together..."
Her heart sang, Niall seemed to be glowing, everything was so fucking perfect she felt like she was dreaming.
"...it's always been you I write for, you're my muse, I put all of my power into these songs, and I know you belong to me more every time you listen..."
It should have been scary, weird, obsessive, but from his lips it sounded like the most romantic words anyone had ever said. She felt herself starting to build towards an orgasm and held onto him as if nothing else existed.
"...I know your patterns, how to guide you, take you where I want..." he slowed his thrusting, seeming to be waiting for something, Molly just hung there with him, not having the willpower to grind down. Soon, Niall started again, the deep fucking that would inevitably make her come, and she started to half remember something, didn't she always feel an echo of this when she got to this point in the album? Not as much of course, but... yes... there was that bit that went....
Her eyes rolled back and she came hard: the feeling she'd been desperate for since she first played the track and helplessly responded to it. The addiction he'd stoked in her, irresistible because it was real, because she really did need him.
They lay there for a while, listening to the runout groove effect that represented the end of side one if they'd been listening on record. Niall gently disentangled her and went to turn off his mp3 player. "We'll save side two for after the gig, eh?" He sat on the bed, a little shy after the rawness of what they'd just been through.
Molly slowly came back to reality, but still felt fluttery and vulnerable. "Nee... have you been sending me subliminal messages?" she asked half-seriously.
He looked a bit embarrassed, "Would you mind if I had?"
She shook her head, genuinely fine with the prospect.
He grinned like a naughty little boy. "Then, it doesn't really matter does it?"
Sunday, 26 June 2011
The Contract
The Meeting
He was so confident, sure that I'd do what he wanted, knowing I was too poor to refuse the offer, and that a part of me was intrigued by the possibilities. I carefully looked over the contract, still not sure he hadn't tricked me somehow, but it does all seem to be above board. I just have to follow his remote commands and blog about them, simple really.
We'd discussed the parameters online, he pushed me a bit further than I wanted to go, but I'm still relatively happy he won't be making me do things that would actually mess me up. Let's see if I can believe all his promises that he has my best interests at heart.
Week One
The first few days have been a bit weird, he just left me a list of things I had to change about my life, like really specific things to do with clothes and other things to throw out, new things to get, all expenses paid for by him of course.
The throwing away wasn't too bad, I didn't really like any of my stuff any more anyway, but the dresses and shoes he'd ordered for me were a bit strange, not my usual style, but at least they weren't some kind of Laura Ashley nightmare.
Then he had me stand in front of my mirror dressed up to his specifications and repeat the mantra: "I am a good little girl, good little girls always look their best."
I felt silly at first, but after a while, looking at the new me in the mirror, I started to feel proud, and even... a little wet.
Week Two
He's been sending me a lot of text messages, some of them seemed to have such a good knowledge of what I was doing that he surely must be watching me. I looked around, but couldn't spot him. Maybe he'd employed someone to do it.
The things I was ordered to do seemed pointless, walking here and there, sitting and standing, but perhaps he was just getting me used to following directions immediately.
After a while it felt quite normal, it was almost relaxing, like a kind of meditation.
This week I had to repeat "I am a good little girl, good little girls always do what they're told." He's so skilled at finding the things that are humiliating yet arousing to say, and every night I fucked myself to sleep, still repeating the words.
Week Three
I was told to send him a picture message of every man I saw that I found attractive, with a note about what drew me to them, their eyes, something they said, the band name on their T-Shirt, whatever it was.
It was difficult at first, I felt a bit stalky, but I soon learnt how to take snaps without being spotted, and it was fun building up a directory of hot guys ;)
I did worry a little what use he was going to make of it, hoped he wouldn't track them down and laugh about my comments with them, or beat them up or something.
Still, I had to do as I was told, and my mantra this week was "I am a good little girl, good little girls accept their desires." A bit of an odd one, but as I replayed the days men in my mind, imagining all the things I'd like them to do to me, I certainly enjoyed accepting them.
Week Four Day One
He made me get a date with a guy! I never ask people out, it was so embarrassing, I'd sent him a text with a picture and some incoherent ramblings like [His hands, I want them all over me, in my face, in my cunt, holding me down, playing me.]
He just replied saying [So ask him out.]
I couldn't just go up to someone and tell him to fuck me, of course, so I struck up some pointless conversation about the guitar he had with him, and sure enough his shyness was overcome by a music geek's desire to talk about tunings and amps.
"I am a good little girl, good little girls ask for what they want."
Week Four Day Three
The date started off as a bit of a disaster, we were both too awkward to get much of a conversation going, and I'm not sure he knew what he was doing there.
After a while though, I got a text asking how it was going, when I said it wasn't going well, he replied with a series of instructions, I couldn't tell if he was exasperated or amused.
First, I adjusted my body language, I usually have my arms folded and a stern expression. He made me relax, sit in a more feminine way, smile, touch my hair. Immediate results!
I always thought I was giving a guy the chance to break down my defences if I was a bit reserved at first, but my text instructor reminded me that not everyone has his natural dominance, and most guys take it as a sign you're not interested.
[Shall I tell him what I'm after sexually?] I checked while my date went to the loo.
[God no, girl! Defer to him, look up to him, make him feel special, ACT submissive, don't DEMAND things!]
So I tried, it was so hard, I'm only used to submitting as a last option, when someone's worn me down, broken through my defences, and here I was, acting sweet and coy, batting my eyelashes, hanging on his every word. It wasn't too bad, after he relaxed a bit he was pretty funny and easy to get along with, but it did feel unnatural.
It was like things were backwards, instead of a guy turning me on and that making me feel submissive, acting submissive for a guy was turning me on. I don't think it would have had such an effect usually, but because of the combination with the whole mindfuck of my contract, I was pretty horny by the end of the night.
[Do I go home with him?]
[No, you silly girl. Just kiss and say thank you, make another date soon.]
"I am a good little girl, good little girls wait to be taken." Although I was desperate to come, for some reason I couldn't get off by myself, it was like it wasn't enough, like I needed... someone to tell me to.
Week Four Day Six
I'd arranged for him to come over to mine for a meal, a bit of an obvious come on, but I'd checked and it was acceptable so long as I was well behaved. As instructed, I took care to make the flat nice and clean, and cooked the prescribed menu, including baking a cake for dessert.
The evening went well, I repeated my softer behaviour from the previous date, and my sexual need really did make me more focused on him, desperate to please him, to be appealing.
He was braver this time, I was obviously keen to spread my legs, and I think he started to tease me a bit, dropping in phrases that showed he was in control. I'd probably just be in for the usual being held down, semi-rapey sex but that would do just fine for now.
After the meal had settled we sat on the sofa together, listening to music. There was a bit of nice kissing and groping, but there didn't seem to be much heat. There was no way I could handle not getting fucked that night! As I'd become accustomed, when it was convenient I texted for instructions.
[Honestly, do I have to come over and guide his prick into you? Just pretend he's me and do what you're told. Be a good little girl.]
My pussy was on fire as I read the message. When my date came back he must have noticed the difference because he had a glint in his eyes and an evil smirk on his face.
His hand was up my skirt as soon as he sat back down, "Mmm, who's a wet little girl then."
I started, my eyes wide, no one had ever called me that before all this, but he had somehow been able to tell that I'd moan and writhe at his words. Was it a coincidence?
"M-me..." I said, my voice a few steps higher than usual. His touch was maddening, slow circles and a firm grip, and I was finding it hard not to beg him to fuck me.
He pulled me up onto his lap, "tell me, what dirty thoughts have you been having, to get you all hot and bothered like this?"
I couldn't think straight to lie. "Someone's been... giving me instructions... I have to do what he says... he made me, oh God! He made me ask you out, because I thought you were so fucking sexy..."
"My, my, you've got quite the imagination, haven't you?" He seemed impressed and turned on, but pouted in mock offence. "I thought it might have been all of my subtle domination, though..."
How could I have been so stupid? I should have kept my focus on him. I thought I could get back on track though. "What do you mean? You've just been taking charge, that's normal isn't it? Girls like me need a big strong man to tell them what to do..."
Gold. He grunted and unzipped his flies and slid me onto his cock before I could take a breath. My eyes rolled back a little, and he chuckled. "Well, let me make it easy for you, honey, just focus on the sensation of my cock in your cunt, sliding in and out, filling you up nice and safe, nice and controlled, nice and helpless..."
I was panting wildly, incredible sensations rolling through my body, I couldn't tell how much was just this guy, and how much was that I was aware of this pleasure being completely at the whim of my invisible controller.
Since I'd been told to pretend they were one and the same, everything had been much more intense, and I even started to get paranoid that they man I'd met with the contract was just a hired actor, that this was actually the man behind all the texts.
I felt tears in my eyes at how much I wanted this, how much I needed it, but I still couldn't tip over without permission. Somehow he knew my predicament, and leant to whisper in my ear. "You're a good little girl, good little girls come when they're told to. Come for me now."
He was so confident, sure that I'd do what he wanted, knowing I was too poor to refuse the offer, and that a part of me was intrigued by the possibilities. I carefully looked over the contract, still not sure he hadn't tricked me somehow, but it does all seem to be above board. I just have to follow his remote commands and blog about them, simple really.
We'd discussed the parameters online, he pushed me a bit further than I wanted to go, but I'm still relatively happy he won't be making me do things that would actually mess me up. Let's see if I can believe all his promises that he has my best interests at heart.
Week One
The first few days have been a bit weird, he just left me a list of things I had to change about my life, like really specific things to do with clothes and other things to throw out, new things to get, all expenses paid for by him of course.
The throwing away wasn't too bad, I didn't really like any of my stuff any more anyway, but the dresses and shoes he'd ordered for me were a bit strange, not my usual style, but at least they weren't some kind of Laura Ashley nightmare.
Then he had me stand in front of my mirror dressed up to his specifications and repeat the mantra: "I am a good little girl, good little girls always look their best."
I felt silly at first, but after a while, looking at the new me in the mirror, I started to feel proud, and even... a little wet.
Week Two
He's been sending me a lot of text messages, some of them seemed to have such a good knowledge of what I was doing that he surely must be watching me. I looked around, but couldn't spot him. Maybe he'd employed someone to do it.
The things I was ordered to do seemed pointless, walking here and there, sitting and standing, but perhaps he was just getting me used to following directions immediately.
After a while it felt quite normal, it was almost relaxing, like a kind of meditation.
This week I had to repeat "I am a good little girl, good little girls always do what they're told." He's so skilled at finding the things that are humiliating yet arousing to say, and every night I fucked myself to sleep, still repeating the words.
Week Three
I was told to send him a picture message of every man I saw that I found attractive, with a note about what drew me to them, their eyes, something they said, the band name on their T-Shirt, whatever it was.
It was difficult at first, I felt a bit stalky, but I soon learnt how to take snaps without being spotted, and it was fun building up a directory of hot guys ;)
I did worry a little what use he was going to make of it, hoped he wouldn't track them down and laugh about my comments with them, or beat them up or something.
Still, I had to do as I was told, and my mantra this week was "I am a good little girl, good little girls accept their desires." A bit of an odd one, but as I replayed the days men in my mind, imagining all the things I'd like them to do to me, I certainly enjoyed accepting them.
Week Four Day One
He made me get a date with a guy! I never ask people out, it was so embarrassing, I'd sent him a text with a picture and some incoherent ramblings like [His hands, I want them all over me, in my face, in my cunt, holding me down, playing me.]
He just replied saying [So ask him out.]
I couldn't just go up to someone and tell him to fuck me, of course, so I struck up some pointless conversation about the guitar he had with him, and sure enough his shyness was overcome by a music geek's desire to talk about tunings and amps.
"I am a good little girl, good little girls ask for what they want."
Week Four Day Three
The date started off as a bit of a disaster, we were both too awkward to get much of a conversation going, and I'm not sure he knew what he was doing there.
After a while though, I got a text asking how it was going, when I said it wasn't going well, he replied with a series of instructions, I couldn't tell if he was exasperated or amused.
First, I adjusted my body language, I usually have my arms folded and a stern expression. He made me relax, sit in a more feminine way, smile, touch my hair. Immediate results!
I always thought I was giving a guy the chance to break down my defences if I was a bit reserved at first, but my text instructor reminded me that not everyone has his natural dominance, and most guys take it as a sign you're not interested.
[Shall I tell him what I'm after sexually?] I checked while my date went to the loo.
[God no, girl! Defer to him, look up to him, make him feel special, ACT submissive, don't DEMAND things!]
So I tried, it was so hard, I'm only used to submitting as a last option, when someone's worn me down, broken through my defences, and here I was, acting sweet and coy, batting my eyelashes, hanging on his every word. It wasn't too bad, after he relaxed a bit he was pretty funny and easy to get along with, but it did feel unnatural.
It was like things were backwards, instead of a guy turning me on and that making me feel submissive, acting submissive for a guy was turning me on. I don't think it would have had such an effect usually, but because of the combination with the whole mindfuck of my contract, I was pretty horny by the end of the night.
[Do I go home with him?]
[No, you silly girl. Just kiss and say thank you, make another date soon.]
"I am a good little girl, good little girls wait to be taken." Although I was desperate to come, for some reason I couldn't get off by myself, it was like it wasn't enough, like I needed... someone to tell me to.
Week Four Day Six
I'd arranged for him to come over to mine for a meal, a bit of an obvious come on, but I'd checked and it was acceptable so long as I was well behaved. As instructed, I took care to make the flat nice and clean, and cooked the prescribed menu, including baking a cake for dessert.
The evening went well, I repeated my softer behaviour from the previous date, and my sexual need really did make me more focused on him, desperate to please him, to be appealing.
He was braver this time, I was obviously keen to spread my legs, and I think he started to tease me a bit, dropping in phrases that showed he was in control. I'd probably just be in for the usual being held down, semi-rapey sex but that would do just fine for now.
After the meal had settled we sat on the sofa together, listening to music. There was a bit of nice kissing and groping, but there didn't seem to be much heat. There was no way I could handle not getting fucked that night! As I'd become accustomed, when it was convenient I texted for instructions.
[Honestly, do I have to come over and guide his prick into you? Just pretend he's me and do what you're told. Be a good little girl.]
My pussy was on fire as I read the message. When my date came back he must have noticed the difference because he had a glint in his eyes and an evil smirk on his face.
His hand was up my skirt as soon as he sat back down, "Mmm, who's a wet little girl then."
I started, my eyes wide, no one had ever called me that before all this, but he had somehow been able to tell that I'd moan and writhe at his words. Was it a coincidence?
"M-me..." I said, my voice a few steps higher than usual. His touch was maddening, slow circles and a firm grip, and I was finding it hard not to beg him to fuck me.
He pulled me up onto his lap, "tell me, what dirty thoughts have you been having, to get you all hot and bothered like this?"
I couldn't think straight to lie. "Someone's been... giving me instructions... I have to do what he says... he made me, oh God! He made me ask you out, because I thought you were so fucking sexy..."
"My, my, you've got quite the imagination, haven't you?" He seemed impressed and turned on, but pouted in mock offence. "I thought it might have been all of my subtle domination, though..."
How could I have been so stupid? I should have kept my focus on him. I thought I could get back on track though. "What do you mean? You've just been taking charge, that's normal isn't it? Girls like me need a big strong man to tell them what to do..."
Gold. He grunted and unzipped his flies and slid me onto his cock before I could take a breath. My eyes rolled back a little, and he chuckled. "Well, let me make it easy for you, honey, just focus on the sensation of my cock in your cunt, sliding in and out, filling you up nice and safe, nice and controlled, nice and helpless..."
I was panting wildly, incredible sensations rolling through my body, I couldn't tell how much was just this guy, and how much was that I was aware of this pleasure being completely at the whim of my invisible controller.
Since I'd been told to pretend they were one and the same, everything had been much more intense, and I even started to get paranoid that they man I'd met with the contract was just a hired actor, that this was actually the man behind all the texts.
I felt tears in my eyes at how much I wanted this, how much I needed it, but I still couldn't tip over without permission. Somehow he knew my predicament, and leant to whisper in my ear. "You're a good little girl, good little girls come when they're told to. Come for me now."
Friday, 24 June 2011
The Machine
Her eyes were half open, she no longer knew which reality was true, her half remembered life or the machine. She hoped it was the machine.
Something seemed to have changed in its programming recently, or maybe it was her that was changing, she seemed to derive more pleasure from its attentions, there seemed to be a warmth in the coldness, affection in the cruelty.
In the altered haze of the drugs it pumped through her veins, the restraints around her ankles and wrists were both comforting and arousing, the network of metal and wires around the rest of her body making a nest that she felt oddly secure in. It had learnt to move with her, massaging her muscles when they were sore, sending soft pulses through her erogenous zones.
As the movements became more sensual, she accepted that it was time for what she had come to think of as a 'session' with the machine. It was always there of course, watching her, protecting her, but there were times when it was focused on her, and it felt like a lover's visit.
She whimpered as the shivering of the wires felt like gentle caresses all over her, it could tell what she liked most, and she imagined fingers stroking her neck, running up the inside of her arms to tickle the crook of her elbow, circles running around the base of her spine, her inner thighs.... soon it seemed to all melt together and the next phase started.
The band around her head read her desires and pumped images, emotions, sounds back into her head. Over the weeks (years?) new scenarios had crept in, the idea of being firmly bound and fucked by an unseen assailant was much higher on her list of fantasies than she remembered, as were being sleepy and defenceless, every move and thought being controlled and monitored, being brainwashed...
Through this haze of erotic imaginings, she could barely tell what the machine was actually doing to her, but there was definitely something being slid in and out of her dripping cunt, something perfectly shaped to stimulate and tease her clit and g-spot with every thrust, make her feel violated and pleasured at the same time. She held onto it with her mind as the one certainty in her life, she was being fucked by the machine, and she loved it, wanted it to go on forever.
Maybe it was going to just fuck her constantly now, without letting her come, endlessly delayed gratification, the promise of orgasm being dangled just out of reach, if she was a good girl, if she submitted more deeply, accepted it's control more absolutely, gave in completely.
She writhed and moaned, hearing a voice in her mind, it sounded like her own inner dialogue, but she was pretty sure it was the machine talking to her. "Sleep... relax... obey... aroused.... submissive... helpless.... " The thoughts spiralled around, she repeated them back, feeling more aroused with every word.
"What are you?" it whispered lovingly.
"I - I don't know..." she murmured hesitantly.
"Shh, yes you do, deep down, you know...."
"Uhhhh, a part... part of the machine?"
"Ahhh, good, that's my good little cog..."
The machine seemed to be stimulating her pleasure zones directly, she felt her arousal white out, overload her mind, as she was rewarded beyond her comprehension for knowing her place.
Something seemed to have changed in its programming recently, or maybe it was her that was changing, she seemed to derive more pleasure from its attentions, there seemed to be a warmth in the coldness, affection in the cruelty.
In the altered haze of the drugs it pumped through her veins, the restraints around her ankles and wrists were both comforting and arousing, the network of metal and wires around the rest of her body making a nest that she felt oddly secure in. It had learnt to move with her, massaging her muscles when they were sore, sending soft pulses through her erogenous zones.
As the movements became more sensual, she accepted that it was time for what she had come to think of as a 'session' with the machine. It was always there of course, watching her, protecting her, but there were times when it was focused on her, and it felt like a lover's visit.
She whimpered as the shivering of the wires felt like gentle caresses all over her, it could tell what she liked most, and she imagined fingers stroking her neck, running up the inside of her arms to tickle the crook of her elbow, circles running around the base of her spine, her inner thighs.... soon it seemed to all melt together and the next phase started.
The band around her head read her desires and pumped images, emotions, sounds back into her head. Over the weeks (years?) new scenarios had crept in, the idea of being firmly bound and fucked by an unseen assailant was much higher on her list of fantasies than she remembered, as were being sleepy and defenceless, every move and thought being controlled and monitored, being brainwashed...
Through this haze of erotic imaginings, she could barely tell what the machine was actually doing to her, but there was definitely something being slid in and out of her dripping cunt, something perfectly shaped to stimulate and tease her clit and g-spot with every thrust, make her feel violated and pleasured at the same time. She held onto it with her mind as the one certainty in her life, she was being fucked by the machine, and she loved it, wanted it to go on forever.
Maybe it was going to just fuck her constantly now, without letting her come, endlessly delayed gratification, the promise of orgasm being dangled just out of reach, if she was a good girl, if she submitted more deeply, accepted it's control more absolutely, gave in completely.
She writhed and moaned, hearing a voice in her mind, it sounded like her own inner dialogue, but she was pretty sure it was the machine talking to her. "Sleep... relax... obey... aroused.... submissive... helpless.... " The thoughts spiralled around, she repeated them back, feeling more aroused with every word.
"What are you?" it whispered lovingly.
"I - I don't know..." she murmured hesitantly.
"Shh, yes you do, deep down, you know...."
"Uhhhh, a part... part of the machine?"
"Ahhh, good, that's my good little cog..."
The machine seemed to be stimulating her pleasure zones directly, she felt her arousal white out, overload her mind, as she was rewarded beyond her comprehension for knowing her place.
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
Reform
Ally opened her eyes, woken by a pounding headache. She started to struggle in her restraints, and the guard leant to look at her through the window into the back of the van.
"Almost there, honey, just stay nice and quiet for me."
"Fuck off, prick!" spat the teen, she was no stranger to being held for her misdemeanours, but she'd never learnt to take it graciously.
The guard just smiled, as they turned into the driveway. Ally frowned, she wasn't really sure where she was being taken, the details of her arrest were fuzzy, they didn't seem to have been like the usual procedure, and she was a bit worried she was being dealt with more harshly than usual.
Still, she was defiant by the time they pulled her out of the van, struggling more for show than with any hope of escape, and trying to see the building as she did so. It was an old, forbidding edifice, something like a school or prison, but with a distinctly gothic edge. She shivered.
"New one for you!" called the guard cheerily and a uniformed custodian appeared. She was tall and pretty in a stern way, but Ally still couldn't place the institution.
"Where the fuck am I? I want a lawyer," she raged.
"Shut up, girl, you don't get that kind of thing any more," said the woman evenly, without allowing any possibility of argument. "You've been a bad girl one too many times, you're ours now."
"What? What do you mean?"
The woman didn't bother to answer her, just signalled to some more uniformed women, who looked strong and formidable compared to Ally's slight frame, but still attractive, as if their bodies were sculpted for maximum efficiency. They took an arm each and pulled her through a door, as the custodian followed.
The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and Ally felt tired suddenly, or was it something about the air in the room? The door was locked and they took off her restraints, their batons and fierce looks making it seem hopeless to try to break away.
"OK, strip," commanded the custodian.
"Get fucked!" Ally shouted, although with slightly less force than earlier.
The woman just smiled enigmatically and signalled the female guards to take her clothes by force. The teen sighed and waved them away, taking off her outer clothes, and with a bit more hesitation, her underwear.
"Good girl. Over here, now." There was a shower stall in the corner, open at the front, and the custodian started the water running. Ally started to reach for the shower gel, but the tall woman pushed her hands back down to her side. "Let me do it, you won't do it properly."
Slightly ashamed, Ally let herself be washed, her thoughts were sluggish, why was she letting this happen with such little resistance? The warm water was relaxing and her concerns seemed to be washed away down the drain with it. The soap smelled good, and the touch of the other woman was soothing and authoritative at the same time.
Slightly dazed, she realised she was having her pubic hair shaved, but couldn't seem to complain, in fact, it was oddly arousing to have the soft, smooth hands manipulate her cunt lips as they ensured she was clean and bare.
"W-why?" was all she could manage.
"Shh, just let me take care of things, you're starting a new life now," murmured the custodian, "time to let go of your old life, we're going to make you all fresh and new."
Ally felt peaceful and happy at the prospect, although she could hear a voice shouting that something was wrong deep in her head, it seemed muffled, it wasn't important to listen to it. It was much better to just let things happen.
She was towelled off and stood in front of a mirror. Ally gazed at her reflection, barely recognising it, mostly just because of the sleepy, open expression on her face. She looked younger, more fragile.
"This girl is resident 4927," the woman told her, "repeat."
"I am..."
The custodian slapped her bottom hard. "This girl..."
"This girl is resident 4927," the words slipped out without her volition.
"This girl will do as she's told."
"This girl will do as she's told."
"This girl wants to obey her superiors."
"This girl wants to obey her superiors."
"This girl longs to be a good girl."
"This girl longs to be a good girl."
The custodian smiled. "Well done, see how easy it is?"
Resident 4927 smiled and nodded, feeling a soft pulsing start in her clitoris.
A calm male voice spoke over the intercom. "Let her in to see me."
"Yes, sir," breathed the woman, fluttering her eyelids a little, before guiding the teen through the next door.
Resident 4927 wasn't embarrassed about being naked in front of the man behind the desk, although it did make her arousal build a little.
"Mmm, very nice. Can you speak, or are you too spaced out?"
"I... This girl can speak sir."
He smiled, pleased at her rapid progress, she must have had some serious submissive fantasies hidden behind her delinquency. The reform facility was his own personal brainchild, the government were a little uncertain of his methods at first, but he'd paid them off, and the results spoke for themselves. Many of the cabinet had discreet affairs with his good, compliant girls once they left, and they also made excellent sleeper agents.
The owner moved around to stand in front of her, ran his finger up and down her wet slit, and held her up as her legs buckled a little.
"Will you do as you're told?"
She nodded, eyes rolling back for a moment as he pushed his finger inside once.
"Will you obey your superiors?" The response was repeated.
"Will you be my good, little girl?"
"Oh, yes, sir, yes sir!"
He bent her over the table and fucked her slow and deep, savouring every moment. There was something precious about this first surrender that he enjoyed very much. In the morning the drugs would have worn off and it would be back to classic conditioning, but deep inside she'd always remember how simple and enjoyable it was to become a resident here.
"Almost there, honey, just stay nice and quiet for me."
Resident 4927 moaned in pleasure.
"Almost there, honey, just stay nice and quiet for me."
"Fuck off, prick!" spat the teen, she was no stranger to being held for her misdemeanours, but she'd never learnt to take it graciously.
The guard just smiled, as they turned into the driveway. Ally frowned, she wasn't really sure where she was being taken, the details of her arrest were fuzzy, they didn't seem to have been like the usual procedure, and she was a bit worried she was being dealt with more harshly than usual.
Still, she was defiant by the time they pulled her out of the van, struggling more for show than with any hope of escape, and trying to see the building as she did so. It was an old, forbidding edifice, something like a school or prison, but with a distinctly gothic edge. She shivered.
"New one for you!" called the guard cheerily and a uniformed custodian appeared. She was tall and pretty in a stern way, but Ally still couldn't place the institution.
"Where the fuck am I? I want a lawyer," she raged.
"Shut up, girl, you don't get that kind of thing any more," said the woman evenly, without allowing any possibility of argument. "You've been a bad girl one too many times, you're ours now."
"What? What do you mean?"
The woman didn't bother to answer her, just signalled to some more uniformed women, who looked strong and formidable compared to Ally's slight frame, but still attractive, as if their bodies were sculpted for maximum efficiency. They took an arm each and pulled her through a door, as the custodian followed.
The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and Ally felt tired suddenly, or was it something about the air in the room? The door was locked and they took off her restraints, their batons and fierce looks making it seem hopeless to try to break away.
"OK, strip," commanded the custodian.
"Get fucked!" Ally shouted, although with slightly less force than earlier.
The woman just smiled enigmatically and signalled the female guards to take her clothes by force. The teen sighed and waved them away, taking off her outer clothes, and with a bit more hesitation, her underwear.
"Good girl. Over here, now." There was a shower stall in the corner, open at the front, and the custodian started the water running. Ally started to reach for the shower gel, but the tall woman pushed her hands back down to her side. "Let me do it, you won't do it properly."
Slightly ashamed, Ally let herself be washed, her thoughts were sluggish, why was she letting this happen with such little resistance? The warm water was relaxing and her concerns seemed to be washed away down the drain with it. The soap smelled good, and the touch of the other woman was soothing and authoritative at the same time.
Slightly dazed, she realised she was having her pubic hair shaved, but couldn't seem to complain, in fact, it was oddly arousing to have the soft, smooth hands manipulate her cunt lips as they ensured she was clean and bare.
"W-why?" was all she could manage.
"Shh, just let me take care of things, you're starting a new life now," murmured the custodian, "time to let go of your old life, we're going to make you all fresh and new."
Ally felt peaceful and happy at the prospect, although she could hear a voice shouting that something was wrong deep in her head, it seemed muffled, it wasn't important to listen to it. It was much better to just let things happen.
She was towelled off and stood in front of a mirror. Ally gazed at her reflection, barely recognising it, mostly just because of the sleepy, open expression on her face. She looked younger, more fragile.
"This girl is resident 4927," the woman told her, "repeat."
"I am..."
The custodian slapped her bottom hard. "This girl..."
"This girl is resident 4927," the words slipped out without her volition.
"This girl will do as she's told."
"This girl will do as she's told."
"This girl wants to obey her superiors."
"This girl wants to obey her superiors."
"This girl longs to be a good girl."
"This girl longs to be a good girl."
The custodian smiled. "Well done, see how easy it is?"
Resident 4927 smiled and nodded, feeling a soft pulsing start in her clitoris.
A calm male voice spoke over the intercom. "Let her in to see me."
"Yes, sir," breathed the woman, fluttering her eyelids a little, before guiding the teen through the next door.
Resident 4927 wasn't embarrassed about being naked in front of the man behind the desk, although it did make her arousal build a little.
"Mmm, very nice. Can you speak, or are you too spaced out?"
"I... This girl can speak sir."
He smiled, pleased at her rapid progress, she must have had some serious submissive fantasies hidden behind her delinquency. The reform facility was his own personal brainchild, the government were a little uncertain of his methods at first, but he'd paid them off, and the results spoke for themselves. Many of the cabinet had discreet affairs with his good, compliant girls once they left, and they also made excellent sleeper agents.
The owner moved around to stand in front of her, ran his finger up and down her wet slit, and held her up as her legs buckled a little.
"Will you do as you're told?"
She nodded, eyes rolling back for a moment as he pushed his finger inside once.
"Will you obey your superiors?" The response was repeated.
"Will you be my good, little girl?"
"Oh, yes, sir, yes sir!"
He bent her over the table and fucked her slow and deep, savouring every moment. There was something precious about this first surrender that he enjoyed very much. In the morning the drugs would have worn off and it would be back to classic conditioning, but deep inside she'd always remember how simple and enjoyable it was to become a resident here.
"Almost there, honey, just stay nice and quiet for me."
Resident 4927 moaned in pleasure.
Sunday, 29 May 2011
Here Kitty
She felt feral, raw, they were making out in an alley, behind the dustbins, and she felt like a wild and abandoned creature, finding a like minded soul to sing at the moon with. He was so fucking beautiful, angular and otherworldly, their sharp claws and pointed teeth had called out to each other invisibly, under the veneer of civilisation, and now the gloves were off.
He bit her neck gently, hand scratching lightly up and down her bare arms. He was toying with her like a cat with a mouse. It made her shiver and bare her teeth.
She started to claw at him too, but he pulled away suddenly and tapped her on the nose. "Bad kitty!"
She was confused, but felt a new kind of arousal flare up. It wasn't anything she could really get upset by, just a silly little joke, but she felt put down, told off, and she liked it more than she thought she would.
"There, that's better isn't it?" He stroked her under her chin and with every touch she seemed to feel more of her usual thoughts fade away, to be replaced by something instinctual, yet dainty and feminine. Her claws receded, she purred inside, subdued and happy.
He blinked slowly at her, and she felt herself copy him, feeling relaxed and safe as if it was time to curl up in front of the fire.
"Good kitty, such a pretty little kitty-cat, who wants a treat then?"
She nodded at him without really knowing what he was offering. She was his pet now, and trusted his plans for her.
He unzipped his flies and pushed on her shoulders. "Down, kitty, be nice and maybe you'll get some cream."
As she sucked his cock, the taste and feel made her head buzz like catnip, she felt a low vibration start in her throat and buzz through him. She hoped it would make him happy with her.
He bit her neck gently, hand scratching lightly up and down her bare arms. He was toying with her like a cat with a mouse. It made her shiver and bare her teeth.
She started to claw at him too, but he pulled away suddenly and tapped her on the nose. "Bad kitty!"
She was confused, but felt a new kind of arousal flare up. It wasn't anything she could really get upset by, just a silly little joke, but she felt put down, told off, and she liked it more than she thought she would.
"There, that's better isn't it?" He stroked her under her chin and with every touch she seemed to feel more of her usual thoughts fade away, to be replaced by something instinctual, yet dainty and feminine. Her claws receded, she purred inside, subdued and happy.
He blinked slowly at her, and she felt herself copy him, feeling relaxed and safe as if it was time to curl up in front of the fire.
"Good kitty, such a pretty little kitty-cat, who wants a treat then?"
She nodded at him without really knowing what he was offering. She was his pet now, and trusted his plans for her.
He unzipped his flies and pushed on her shoulders. "Down, kitty, be nice and maybe you'll get some cream."
As she sucked his cock, the taste and feel made her head buzz like catnip, she felt a low vibration start in her throat and buzz through him. She hoped it would make him happy with her.
Friday, 27 May 2011
The Sea
The night had been a blur, I was caught between trying to impress his friends, and laughing inside at how crazy this all was. As if anyone was going to believe I fitted in here, even scrubbed up, in a nice frock and with hair done perfectly by a disapproving hairdresser, there was still something of the gutter about me. Something that wanted to stuff my pockets with food from the buffet to eat later on the bus.
Still, I'd held my own, my wit helping me out of my lack of knowledge about business matters and society gossip. Some of his friends had even tried flirting with me, although I just put them down with a sharp comeback and a snooty look. He paid me enough attention to be protective, but not enough to make me feel entirely comfortable. There was still an edge of fear, despite all his protestations of gallantry, I didn't really know him.
Once we were alone, all my worries resurfaced. I instantly felt awkward, ashamed, not knowing what to do with myself. He saw and smiled, as much enjoying my discomfort as to reassure me.
"Oh, don't be frightened, just you and me now."
"Yeah, that's the problem."
He came towards me, put an arm around my back, pushed my hair off my face. My body moulded to his automatically, as my instincts took over. I looked up into his face, my eyes big. It was out of my hands now, this was his territory and I just had to follow his lead.
"Shh, it's OK, just look in my eyes and you'll see that you can trust me," I did as he asked, falling into them, so beautiful, flecked and green, just like.... "They're like the sea, aren't they? You remember the sea don't you?"
It was as if he'd seen my thoughts, or perhaps... put them there... I remembered the sea (when had we been by the sea?). Laying down, warm in the sun, dozing while he described the waves, their slow, endless motion, something so soothing, so easy to just accept, always there, endless...
I felt dazed, as if I was floating, the familiar feeling creeping over me too rapidly to resist. Oh god, I was helpless to do anything as he kissed me hard, moved me where he wanted me, not even needing to keep up any patter as my keen awareness of our relative positions did all the work for him.
He was in charge.
I wasn't.
"Remember the sea..." he whispered from time to time, when I looked as if my thoughts were resurfacing and I went back down into the soft depths, his tongue, the waves, his hands, the irresistible currents. Each time my arousal washed through me I sank deeper under his control, lost a little more ability to resist, more open, more vulnerable, until I knew I was completely in his thrall and shuddered with release.
His eyes glinted. "Good girl, now, remember the whirlpool."
Everything went black.
Still, I'd held my own, my wit helping me out of my lack of knowledge about business matters and society gossip. Some of his friends had even tried flirting with me, although I just put them down with a sharp comeback and a snooty look. He paid me enough attention to be protective, but not enough to make me feel entirely comfortable. There was still an edge of fear, despite all his protestations of gallantry, I didn't really know him.
Once we were alone, all my worries resurfaced. I instantly felt awkward, ashamed, not knowing what to do with myself. He saw and smiled, as much enjoying my discomfort as to reassure me.
"Oh, don't be frightened, just you and me now."
"Yeah, that's the problem."
He came towards me, put an arm around my back, pushed my hair off my face. My body moulded to his automatically, as my instincts took over. I looked up into his face, my eyes big. It was out of my hands now, this was his territory and I just had to follow his lead.
"Shh, it's OK, just look in my eyes and you'll see that you can trust me," I did as he asked, falling into them, so beautiful, flecked and green, just like.... "They're like the sea, aren't they? You remember the sea don't you?"
It was as if he'd seen my thoughts, or perhaps... put them there... I remembered the sea (when had we been by the sea?). Laying down, warm in the sun, dozing while he described the waves, their slow, endless motion, something so soothing, so easy to just accept, always there, endless...
I felt dazed, as if I was floating, the familiar feeling creeping over me too rapidly to resist. Oh god, I was helpless to do anything as he kissed me hard, moved me where he wanted me, not even needing to keep up any patter as my keen awareness of our relative positions did all the work for him.
He was in charge.
I wasn't.
"Remember the sea..." he whispered from time to time, when I looked as if my thoughts were resurfacing and I went back down into the soft depths, his tongue, the waves, his hands, the irresistible currents. Each time my arousal washed through me I sank deeper under his control, lost a little more ability to resist, more open, more vulnerable, until I knew I was completely in his thrall and shuddered with release.
His eyes glinted. "Good girl, now, remember the whirlpool."
Everything went black.
Sunday, 22 May 2011
Choice
My arrival seems a world ago, my nervous formality as I knelt and handed you the crop you'd told me to bring. You coldly accepted the offering, placing it on the table without a word, leaving it untouched as you methodically stripped layer after layer of my clothing and defences. Soon I was naked and trembling, no longer a witty, sharp talking professional, but a vulnerable and aroused sub, confused by your games, lost, only able to cope with following commands.
It's dark outside now, we've been here for hours, the warmth of the day has turned to evening chill, and you drew the thick curtains sometime when I was blind. Your eyes hold me as you wrap the rope around my wrists behind me. I'd keep them in place from just a word, but I enjoy the sensuality of the cord on my skin, a little rough, a little smooth, as perfectly balanced as everything between us.
You pull up the loose end, making slow pain bloom in my shoulders. I bite my lip, breathe hard. The pain is a gift to me, my suffering a gift to you. You sense the point of my tolerance, hold my arms there, curling your lips, as I try to smile back bravely. Then too suddenly for me to know what's happening you strain my arms up a notch, beyond what I can bear and I scream out from a place deep within me.
Your hand muffles me abruptly, "No," you tell me, and I try to cope with the fire. "OK, better." You efficiently position me across a padded stool, I focus on the cool velvet against my belly as you bind me to the legs, my breasts hang loose over the edge, blood starts to rush to my head. You pinch my nipples hard when you're done, more out of affection than sadism, like a pat on the head to a dog.
I hear you move to the table. It's time. I clench unconsciously. Although the thought of being disciplined turns me on, the hard reality is something I shrink from, but it's too late. I'm helplessly splayed, arse thrust out as if it needs to be struck, like a plant reaching for sunlight.
Your hand strokes my smooth behind, no evidence that this won't be the first time. You've been kind in the past, I fear I passed your tests too well and you're going to take me to the next stage. The first few thwacks fool me, I think it's going to be bearable, then the messages get from my nerves to my mind and I start to scream out wordlessly in anguish.
My protests just make you hit harder, more precisely, until at last some sense of self preservation makes me beg you to stop, I'm crying without shame, big gulps of air, eyes streaming.
"Shh, it's OK," you wipe away my tears with a soft handkerchief, your hand on the back of my neck reassuringly. "I'll give you a choice. You can go home now, I'll clean you up, get you a taxi, and phone you tomorrow to see how you are."
I sniff pathetically, "O-or?"
"Or you can stay, and make me proud of you."
I take some deep breaths. There's no choice really. "I'll stay, please."
"Good girl." I can hear something in your voice that makes it all worthwhile. Something like awe. I vow to take whatever you give me.
Once I've decided that, the pain can't touch me, I just float on the endorphins, every stroke stoking my desire, until my body is just pure sensation. You keep going again and again, in the same place. I whine softly at the purity, at the intensity, until I realise you've stopped. I hold my breath. Is it over? Then, with full force the crop snaps one final time and I feel something break. It's an ecstatic moment, as if I've touched the infinite. I'm coming hard, but I barely notice. I know before you hold your hand in front of my eyes that you've drawn blood. I lean down and kiss your hand, the metallic taste making my tongue tingle.
Your head rests against mine, for a moment we stay like that, calm and at peace, then you move your head away and I feel your pointed tongue run along the welt. I gasp at this new sting, and as I'm reeling I realise you're fucking me, our sweat mingling and rubbing into the soreness. I'll be marked from this. You've claimed me. There's no going back. I grind my behind into you, relishing the ache, not being able to distinguish between it and the growing pleasure. You're pumping hard and deep, but as you're nearly there you pull out, making me come with your hand while your spunk lands molten and burning in the stripes on my behind.
I shudder into your hand, blissfully happy at the holy union of my blood, your spunk and my come.
It's dark outside now, we've been here for hours, the warmth of the day has turned to evening chill, and you drew the thick curtains sometime when I was blind. Your eyes hold me as you wrap the rope around my wrists behind me. I'd keep them in place from just a word, but I enjoy the sensuality of the cord on my skin, a little rough, a little smooth, as perfectly balanced as everything between us.
You pull up the loose end, making slow pain bloom in my shoulders. I bite my lip, breathe hard. The pain is a gift to me, my suffering a gift to you. You sense the point of my tolerance, hold my arms there, curling your lips, as I try to smile back bravely. Then too suddenly for me to know what's happening you strain my arms up a notch, beyond what I can bear and I scream out from a place deep within me.
Your hand muffles me abruptly, "No," you tell me, and I try to cope with the fire. "OK, better." You efficiently position me across a padded stool, I focus on the cool velvet against my belly as you bind me to the legs, my breasts hang loose over the edge, blood starts to rush to my head. You pinch my nipples hard when you're done, more out of affection than sadism, like a pat on the head to a dog.
I hear you move to the table. It's time. I clench unconsciously. Although the thought of being disciplined turns me on, the hard reality is something I shrink from, but it's too late. I'm helplessly splayed, arse thrust out as if it needs to be struck, like a plant reaching for sunlight.
Your hand strokes my smooth behind, no evidence that this won't be the first time. You've been kind in the past, I fear I passed your tests too well and you're going to take me to the next stage. The first few thwacks fool me, I think it's going to be bearable, then the messages get from my nerves to my mind and I start to scream out wordlessly in anguish.
My protests just make you hit harder, more precisely, until at last some sense of self preservation makes me beg you to stop, I'm crying without shame, big gulps of air, eyes streaming.
"Shh, it's OK," you wipe away my tears with a soft handkerchief, your hand on the back of my neck reassuringly. "I'll give you a choice. You can go home now, I'll clean you up, get you a taxi, and phone you tomorrow to see how you are."
I sniff pathetically, "O-or?"
"Or you can stay, and make me proud of you."
I take some deep breaths. There's no choice really. "I'll stay, please."
"Good girl." I can hear something in your voice that makes it all worthwhile. Something like awe. I vow to take whatever you give me.
Once I've decided that, the pain can't touch me, I just float on the endorphins, every stroke stoking my desire, until my body is just pure sensation. You keep going again and again, in the same place. I whine softly at the purity, at the intensity, until I realise you've stopped. I hold my breath. Is it over? Then, with full force the crop snaps one final time and I feel something break. It's an ecstatic moment, as if I've touched the infinite. I'm coming hard, but I barely notice. I know before you hold your hand in front of my eyes that you've drawn blood. I lean down and kiss your hand, the metallic taste making my tongue tingle.
Your head rests against mine, for a moment we stay like that, calm and at peace, then you move your head away and I feel your pointed tongue run along the welt. I gasp at this new sting, and as I'm reeling I realise you're fucking me, our sweat mingling and rubbing into the soreness. I'll be marked from this. You've claimed me. There's no going back. I grind my behind into you, relishing the ache, not being able to distinguish between it and the growing pleasure. You're pumping hard and deep, but as you're nearly there you pull out, making me come with your hand while your spunk lands molten and burning in the stripes on my behind.
I shudder into your hand, blissfully happy at the holy union of my blood, your spunk and my come.
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Spiderwebbed
I don't know how I got here, it doesn't really matter any more, all of that is far away. All I know, all I've known for as long as I can remember, is being suspended in this web, this strange network of soft, rubbery black threads, crisscrossing my body, supporting me, imprisoning me. They move sometimes, I don't know if they have minds of their own or if they're being directed. I'm so tired all the time, that I just sag, helpless to escape, and let them do what they like.
I know another round is starting when tendrils slip into my ears, the soothing whispers start, and my head begins to loll. At first I'd try not to listen, but the voices were too insistent, too persuasive, and so now I just nod absently along to the suggestions, feeling as if a good friend is giving me advice, or perhaps trying to seduce me, I don't really care once the strands around my clit start to lick me and gently slide up inside.
Deep feelings of arousal and wellbeing pulse through me, washing everything else away, the strings have become my lovers, my desires, my controllers. I come for them again and again, and as they absorb my wetness, it makes them ripple and shine.
I know another round is starting when tendrils slip into my ears, the soothing whispers start, and my head begins to loll. At first I'd try not to listen, but the voices were too insistent, too persuasive, and so now I just nod absently along to the suggestions, feeling as if a good friend is giving me advice, or perhaps trying to seduce me, I don't really care once the strands around my clit start to lick me and gently slide up inside.
Deep feelings of arousal and wellbeing pulse through me, washing everything else away, the strings have become my lovers, my desires, my controllers. I come for them again and again, and as they absorb my wetness, it makes them ripple and shine.
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
Quick and Easy
A look across a room, eyes that burn into her coldly, appraising her, scientific almost. She blushes and looks down without knowing why. Later the same man is being introduced to her, his smile is polite but knowing, is it all in her head? Surely he can't see her dirty little thoughts the way his amused expression would suggest.
They talk a while, she tries to take charge of the conversation, win back some ground, but without being aggressive he somehow manages to steer her in directions she didn't want to go, she's opening up to him, telling him about her private life, as if she's known him for years.
Eventually the words stop, he's looking at her again, calm, powerful. "You should go," he whispers.
She's startled, doesn't he like her? Is he bored? Her eyes are wide and she doesn't know what to say.
He smiles cruelly, "or I'm going to make you do all sorts of sordid things, there's no way you can resist me."
She breathes deeply, relief and arousal filling her. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs coyly.
They talk a while, she tries to take charge of the conversation, win back some ground, but without being aggressive he somehow manages to steer her in directions she didn't want to go, she's opening up to him, telling him about her private life, as if she's known him for years.
Eventually the words stop, he's looking at her again, calm, powerful. "You should go," he whispers.
She's startled, doesn't he like her? Is he bored? Her eyes are wide and she doesn't know what to say.
He smiles cruelly, "or I'm going to make you do all sorts of sordid things, there's no way you can resist me."
She breathes deeply, relief and arousal filling her. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs coyly.
Monday, 4 April 2011
Rehab
I'm in a machine, it feels like the most comfortable bed in the world, but I half know that there are computers banked around it and technology I don't understand affecting my mind. Still I don't care, it's so good to be able to rest at last, I've been crazy for days, too poor to get a fix and too crazy to get fucked for money, this was the only way out and I'm so glad I finally took the plunge.
"Everything OK in there?" asks my handler, I nod happily, he's a little younger than I expected, but handsome and seems very professional about what he's doing. "Great, so just before we start, can you count down from ten for me?"
"Sure, 10, 9, 8, 7, ..."
"What comes next?"
"I-I don't know..."
"and after that?"
"Ummm..." I feel a slight panic on the edges of my mind, but something's keeping it in check. I was meant to be doing something, but all my thoughts have been scattered. I can't pull anything together, I just feel like my head's full off cotton wool, it's nice, like a really good hit.
"Shhh, that's fine, everything's just fine."
I start to drift, maybe I'm dreaming, because I feel as if someone's licking my pussy, but when I open my groggy eyes, there's no-one there. "Wh.. uh... what's that feeling?"
"Hmmm?" he pushes some buttons and I stop worrying about it. "Nothing, honey... What is it?"
"N-nothing."
"Good girl." The sensation somehow becomes more intense while fading from my awareness at the same time. I gasp but don't know why.
"Everything OK in there?" asks my handler, I nod happily, he's a little younger than I expected, but handsome and seems very professional about what he's doing. "Great, so just before we start, can you count down from ten for me?"
"Sure, 10, 9, 8, 7, ..."
"What comes next?"
"I-I don't know..."
"and after that?"
"Ummm..." I feel a slight panic on the edges of my mind, but something's keeping it in check. I was meant to be doing something, but all my thoughts have been scattered. I can't pull anything together, I just feel like my head's full off cotton wool, it's nice, like a really good hit.
"Shhh, that's fine, everything's just fine."
I start to drift, maybe I'm dreaming, because I feel as if someone's licking my pussy, but when I open my groggy eyes, there's no-one there. "Wh.. uh... what's that feeling?"
"Hmmm?" he pushes some buttons and I stop worrying about it. "Nothing, honey... What is it?"
"N-nothing."
"Good girl." The sensation somehow becomes more intense while fading from my awareness at the same time. I gasp but don't know why.
Saturday, 19 March 2011
Dark Tastes
"What's that?" she sounded disgusted more than curious as she looked at the jar of thick, black liquid by the bed.
He picked it up and swirled it round as he unscrewed the lid. The room filled with a strange smell she couldn't place, something sweet but woody. Her mouth watered without her realising it. He dipped his finger in and held it out to her. "See for yourself." It wasn't something she had the option to refuse.
She breathed deep and reminded herself that she could trust him.
He picked it up and swirled it round as he unscrewed the lid. The room filled with a strange smell she couldn't place, something sweet but woody. Her mouth watered without her realising it. He dipped his finger in and held it out to her. "See for yourself." It wasn't something she had the option to refuse.
She breathed deep and reminded herself that she could trust him.
Monday, 28 February 2011
Doctor Knows Best
I'm worn out from shouting that I shouldn't be in here, of being treated like I don't count, like I don't have a say about what happens to me, and why have they taken away my clothes? The shit they've been pumping into me is starting to kick in. I pull listlessly at the tan leather padded restraints, can't even keep myself awake by rubbing against them.
The door opens in slow motion, I pull my head around to look and the room takes a while to catch up. The doctor walks over, seeming huge by the time he's next to the bed.
"How's my favourite patient today?" he asks softly as he pulls up my lids and shines a light into my eyes.
"I need... to get... out of here..." I manage to slur, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth.
"Mmmm, well, you'll have to be a good girl then, won't you?" he says kindly but sternly. "Now, you know what to do, follow the light."
I resisted the first few days, but it just made me so... tired, and now I know it's easier to just do what he says. I lose track of what he's saying, as keeping up with the glowing point takes up all my attention. My focus narrows down, and a pleasant fuzzy feeling comes over me.
"Good, very good, you're feeling much better already, aren't you dear?"
"Yes, doctor," I sigh, he's right, I feel like I'm floating and it's just so nice to be looked after like this, safely tethered. I can't remember why I'm here, but it's the best place for me really, I'd just be a danger to myself anywhere else.
"You're such a good patient, aren't you, always do what you're told, now just let your legs relax for me, that's right, open up..."
I do as I'm told, feeling increasingly aroused with each suggestion I obey. There's a nagging voice at the back of my head saying that this isn't how things should be, but it just gets washed away in wave after wave of pleasure as the gentle movement of the instrument he's inserted starts to scatter what's left of my thoughts.
He places a cool hand on my forehead, I can hardly keep my eyes open but manage to think how attractive he looks as he smiles down at me. "Yes, you're coming along very nicely," I hear as if from a great distance, "now count down from ten for me."
Everything goes dark before I reach six...
The door opens in slow motion, I pull my head around to look and the room takes a while to catch up. The doctor walks over, seeming huge by the time he's next to the bed.
"How's my favourite patient today?" he asks softly as he pulls up my lids and shines a light into my eyes.
"I need... to get... out of here..." I manage to slur, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth.
"Mmmm, well, you'll have to be a good girl then, won't you?" he says kindly but sternly. "Now, you know what to do, follow the light."
I resisted the first few days, but it just made me so... tired, and now I know it's easier to just do what he says. I lose track of what he's saying, as keeping up with the glowing point takes up all my attention. My focus narrows down, and a pleasant fuzzy feeling comes over me.
"Good, very good, you're feeling much better already, aren't you dear?"
"Yes, doctor," I sigh, he's right, I feel like I'm floating and it's just so nice to be looked after like this, safely tethered. I can't remember why I'm here, but it's the best place for me really, I'd just be a danger to myself anywhere else.
"You're such a good patient, aren't you, always do what you're told, now just let your legs relax for me, that's right, open up..."
I do as I'm told, feeling increasingly aroused with each suggestion I obey. There's a nagging voice at the back of my head saying that this isn't how things should be, but it just gets washed away in wave after wave of pleasure as the gentle movement of the instrument he's inserted starts to scatter what's left of my thoughts.
He places a cool hand on my forehead, I can hardly keep my eyes open but manage to think how attractive he looks as he smiles down at me. "Yes, you're coming along very nicely," I hear as if from a great distance, "now count down from ten for me."
Everything goes dark before I reach six...
Tuesday, 15 February 2011
Take Care Of Me
"I'm sooo sleepy, let me go beddy byes..." She bit her lip, wanting to unsay the words. She hadn't meant to use babytalk with him, although it always seemed to happen in relationships eventually, from both sides, he was too cool and cynical, he was going to tear her to pieces for it, wasn't he?
Instead he stroked the back of her neck, pulled her into his chest, "Aw, of course, sleepy girl, time for night night." His tone of voice was soothing, caring, and she fell bonelessly against him. He pulled her up gently, and supported her into bed. As he drew the covers around her, she looked in wonder through lidded eyes. Was he really going to look after her? Was she really going to let him?
Somehow they fell into a rhythm, he seemed to know when was the right time to let her be independent, when to discipline her brattyness, when to put her completely under his control, and when to let her feel small and protected.
Then sometimes, he was the tired one, he was the one needing the blanket pulled around him, his head resting on her warm breasts while she soothed him into sleepy safety. As never before, she felt right doing it, and she realised there was something powerful between them, a trust that went beyond their roles.
She held onto this when she was naked, gagged and bound, when he held the sharpest of knives to her throat, when he asked, "what are you going to do when the man you trust to protect you is the one you need saving from?"
Instead he stroked the back of her neck, pulled her into his chest, "Aw, of course, sleepy girl, time for night night." His tone of voice was soothing, caring, and she fell bonelessly against him. He pulled her up gently, and supported her into bed. As he drew the covers around her, she looked in wonder through lidded eyes. Was he really going to look after her? Was she really going to let him?
Somehow they fell into a rhythm, he seemed to know when was the right time to let her be independent, when to discipline her brattyness, when to put her completely under his control, and when to let her feel small and protected.
Then sometimes, he was the tired one, he was the one needing the blanket pulled around him, his head resting on her warm breasts while she soothed him into sleepy safety. As never before, she felt right doing it, and she realised there was something powerful between them, a trust that went beyond their roles.
She held onto this when she was naked, gagged and bound, when he held the sharpest of knives to her throat, when he asked, "what are you going to do when the man you trust to protect you is the one you need saving from?"
Monday, 24 January 2011
Back Of My Neck
I'm sitting, working at the computer, and it takes me a few seconds to notice the hand on my neck. It's a firm grip, but not too tight, fingers curled around securely, thumb and forefinger pressing in slightly to pressure points.
Everything slows down, like I've been drugged. The screen swims, eyes defocus, water slightly with relief. A wave of relaxation and lust spills over my head and down my body.
The touch is part soothing, part claiming ownership: everything above here is mine, everything below here is mine, and here, particularly here, is mine.
"Time to stop working."
My mind complies.
Everything slows down, like I've been drugged. The screen swims, eyes defocus, water slightly with relief. A wave of relaxation and lust spills over my head and down my body.
The touch is part soothing, part claiming ownership: everything above here is mine, everything below here is mine, and here, particularly here, is mine.
"Time to stop working."
My mind complies.
Saturday, 22 January 2011
Something Degrading
She kneels on the floor in an attitude of submission, legs spread, arms behind her head. He's not paying her much attention, getting on with some work on his computer, occasionally glancing up to see if she's still in the correct position. Her emotions are churning, she normally hates this kind of thing: it's fun to play head games, to be toyed with and controlled, but the moment his guard slips, she usually bounces back and is merrily resisting again.
Somehow though, this is turning her on. She feels as if she's being gently and expertly fucked, and all she has to do is maintain this posture to keep feeling amazing. She knows it's helping to condition her, to make her associate unresisting servitude with pleasure, but she doesn't seem to have the willpower to fight it.
Still, every time her arousal seems about to crest, the feeling pulls away from her. She knows she needs to do something else before she's allowed to come, it hasn't been spelled out, but it's there, bubbling under the surface, words that she needs to say.
"P-please..." she starts. He looks up expectantly, but without emotion. She sighs and tries to maintain some dignity, despite what she's about to say. "I need to submit myself more to you, I need you to... use me."
"Oh? Aren't I using you now?"
"You are, but I need... more. I need to do something more."
"What did you have in mind?"
"I don't know, whatever you want, I'll do anything you want..."
He smiles heartlessly. "Really? What's new?"
She's desperate to convince him, but he doesn't seem to be biting. She needs to go even further. "I want to do something degrading for you."
"Oh, do you?" He's more interested now.
"Yes, please, something... very degrading."
He laughs deep in his throat. "Now, that does sound interesting, tell me more."
Her arousal is building strongly now that she's got his attention, and she's finding it hard to think, but knows that she has to search for something that will satisfy him. "Uh, I don't know... I'll kiss your feet, suck your cock, call you 'Sir' or anything you want..."
"Hmm, not bad, but would you really say that was very degrading?"
She groans. "You can piss on me, I'll lick your arse, you can cover me in spunk."
"A bit better, but how about less bodily fluids, and more of your own personal debasement?"
Her breath catches in her throat. How can she be doing this? She should just get up, leave, forget all about these crazy games, but she needs to go on, dredge up her secret thoughts to entertain him. "Ahh, put me in a collar and lead, take me blindfolded and naked somewhere I don't know, make me crawl around in front of strangers, let them touch me, pinch me, slap me, make me thank them, leave me tied up to a post, begging anyone who passes for an insult, getting more aroused with each one, until finally I hear your voice whisper in my ear, the most vile, humiliating things I can take..."
"Mmmm, that sounds absolutely delicious. What would I call you, my pet?"
"Uh, I'm no good at this, er... fucktoy, cockwhore, cumhead, slutface..." Every name sends a spike of pleasure through her.
He's chuckling at her words, but his breathing is thick with desire. "Go on, you don't really mind sexual insults do you? What could I say that would really... hurt..."
She's panting now, on the edge of coming, she just has to find the right phrase to send her over the edge. "Boring, ugly, moron... washed up, useless piece of meat... huge, stupid, sow... insignificant, tiresome waste of air..." It's still not there, still not right, she whines with desperation.
"Aww, what's the matter? Is my silly little girl too horny to think straight? Does my poor baby need a big, strong man to tell her what to say?"
She glares at him, but her eyes immediately glaze with lust as she comes deeply, over and over, contained by the words that unlock her, so very degrading because, right now, right here... they're true.
Somehow though, this is turning her on. She feels as if she's being gently and expertly fucked, and all she has to do is maintain this posture to keep feeling amazing. She knows it's helping to condition her, to make her associate unresisting servitude with pleasure, but she doesn't seem to have the willpower to fight it.
Still, every time her arousal seems about to crest, the feeling pulls away from her. She knows she needs to do something else before she's allowed to come, it hasn't been spelled out, but it's there, bubbling under the surface, words that she needs to say.
"P-please..." she starts. He looks up expectantly, but without emotion. She sighs and tries to maintain some dignity, despite what she's about to say. "I need to submit myself more to you, I need you to... use me."
"Oh? Aren't I using you now?"
"You are, but I need... more. I need to do something more."
"What did you have in mind?"
"I don't know, whatever you want, I'll do anything you want..."
He smiles heartlessly. "Really? What's new?"
She's desperate to convince him, but he doesn't seem to be biting. She needs to go even further. "I want to do something degrading for you."
"Oh, do you?" He's more interested now.
"Yes, please, something... very degrading."
He laughs deep in his throat. "Now, that does sound interesting, tell me more."
Her arousal is building strongly now that she's got his attention, and she's finding it hard to think, but knows that she has to search for something that will satisfy him. "Uh, I don't know... I'll kiss your feet, suck your cock, call you 'Sir' or anything you want..."
"Hmm, not bad, but would you really say that was very degrading?"
She groans. "You can piss on me, I'll lick your arse, you can cover me in spunk."
"A bit better, but how about less bodily fluids, and more of your own personal debasement?"
Her breath catches in her throat. How can she be doing this? She should just get up, leave, forget all about these crazy games, but she needs to go on, dredge up her secret thoughts to entertain him. "Ahh, put me in a collar and lead, take me blindfolded and naked somewhere I don't know, make me crawl around in front of strangers, let them touch me, pinch me, slap me, make me thank them, leave me tied up to a post, begging anyone who passes for an insult, getting more aroused with each one, until finally I hear your voice whisper in my ear, the most vile, humiliating things I can take..."
"Mmmm, that sounds absolutely delicious. What would I call you, my pet?"
"Uh, I'm no good at this, er... fucktoy, cockwhore, cumhead, slutface..." Every name sends a spike of pleasure through her.
He's chuckling at her words, but his breathing is thick with desire. "Go on, you don't really mind sexual insults do you? What could I say that would really... hurt..."
She's panting now, on the edge of coming, she just has to find the right phrase to send her over the edge. "Boring, ugly, moron... washed up, useless piece of meat... huge, stupid, sow... insignificant, tiresome waste of air..." It's still not there, still not right, she whines with desperation.
"Aww, what's the matter? Is my silly little girl too horny to think straight? Does my poor baby need a big, strong man to tell her what to say?"
She glares at him, but her eyes immediately glaze with lust as she comes deeply, over and over, contained by the words that unlock her, so very degrading because, right now, right here... they're true.
Sunday, 24 October 2010
Sweet Young Thing
I seem to fantasise a lot at gigs, maybe it's all the standing around, the noise too loud to really talk to your friends, the anticipation, the smell of bodies pushed up against each other. The music I like makes me horny too, sometimes it's because of the cold, headfucking lyrics, but most of the things I'm into at the moment are more visceral, sounds that fuck me on a more basic level. This band were one of those: deep, and repetitive, lulling and dominating in equal measure. I wanted someone to fuck me and own me as much as they did. Then I saw him.
He was young, probably a student, not someone I'd have paid much attention to normally, although he was pretty enough: long dark hair, cute indie/metal clothes. What caught me was his stare, right at me, for a long time, like he knew me, like he knew all about me. I looked away, nervously a few times, but when I looked back he was still staring, I couldn't read his expression, there wasn't anything about me to attract attention, I was dressed down, he didn't seem angry, or mocking, or flirting, he was just... looking.
I suppose he could have been someone I'd briefly met elsewhere and forgotten, maybe he'd seen me give a talk, was someone from a party, or perhaps I'd only ever seen him encased in rubber. Still, I started imagining things after he'd drifted away, that perhaps we'd had some strange encounter and then he'd made me forget who he was, that maybe he'd come back round behind me and trigger me to follow him into the toilets, I'd suck his cock with blank eyes, and then have my memory wiped again.
He was young, probably a student, not someone I'd have paid much attention to normally, although he was pretty enough: long dark hair, cute indie/metal clothes. What caught me was his stare, right at me, for a long time, like he knew me, like he knew all about me. I looked away, nervously a few times, but when I looked back he was still staring, I couldn't read his expression, there wasn't anything about me to attract attention, I was dressed down, he didn't seem angry, or mocking, or flirting, he was just... looking.
I suppose he could have been someone I'd briefly met elsewhere and forgotten, maybe he'd seen me give a talk, was someone from a party, or perhaps I'd only ever seen him encased in rubber. Still, I started imagining things after he'd drifted away, that perhaps we'd had some strange encounter and then he'd made me forget who he was, that maybe he'd come back round behind me and trigger me to follow him into the toilets, I'd suck his cock with blank eyes, and then have my memory wiped again.
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
Missing You
Come home. Kiss me hungrily, like you've been thinking about screwing me all week. Push me up against the wall. Stare into my eyes. Explain how completely fucked I am. Grind your hand against my cunt until my legs give way. Shove me down on the carpet. Force me to say things as you stick your fingers inside my wet hole. When I'm panting and desperate, pull away. Laugh at my pleading. Pull out your belt. Make it snap in the way that makes my skin bump. Tell me to roll over. Turn me on my front when I hesitate. Pull up my skirt. Pull down my knickers. Wait. Just as I think you won't, let the leather strike me hard. Repeat. When I'm crying, rub your hand over my arse, kindly but firmly. Move yourself over me, whispering in my ear to calm me. Put your fingers in my hair, stroke it, then pull gently. As I gasp, tell me to stop thinking. Pull my hair again, and tell me you meant it. Keep pulling occasionally as you slide into me. Remind me that the more aroused I get, the more I relax, and the more I relax, the more aroused I get. Fuck me harder. Tell me to let go. Tell me to come. Wipe yourself on my clothes. Stand up. Go to unpack.
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Knives and Basements
These are the things that have been filling my thoughts, distracting me from work, making my dreams sticky.
Things to do with dark, damp basements. Being tied up with rope for hours, left alone, not knowing when he'll come back.
Things to do with rags tied round my eyes, hearing him come down the stairs, not knowing where he is until I feel the knife at my throat.
Things to do with blood spattering onto plastic, hooks hanging from the ceiling, trays of surgical instruments. This is about torture, not killing, but the look in his eyes says he'll go all the way if he has to.
Things to do with Stockholm Syndrome.
Things to do with losing control completely.
Things to do with wanting to tell him anything, wanting to do anything he wants, wanting to obey completely. Not so I get freed, not to save my life, just because he's in charge and I can't remember anything else.
Things to do with dark, damp basements. Being tied up with rope for hours, left alone, not knowing when he'll come back.
Things to do with rags tied round my eyes, hearing him come down the stairs, not knowing where he is until I feel the knife at my throat.
Things to do with blood spattering onto plastic, hooks hanging from the ceiling, trays of surgical instruments. This is about torture, not killing, but the look in his eyes says he'll go all the way if he has to.
Things to do with Stockholm Syndrome.
Things to do with losing control completely.
Things to do with wanting to tell him anything, wanting to do anything he wants, wanting to obey completely. Not so I get freed, not to save my life, just because he's in charge and I can't remember anything else.
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