THIS MATERIAL MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR THOSE UNDER 18.
So if you are under 18, a right wing republican christian or anyone else who is offended by nudity, vulgarity and/or a wanton disrespect for societal norms, consider yourself warned and leave. Oh and might I add, "If thine eyes offend thee, PLUCK THEM OUT". Just don't complain!


~The more defects a man may have, the older he is, the less lovable, the more resounding his success.~
Marquis de Sade


"Allow me to be frank at the commencement. You will not like me. The gentlemen will be envious and the ladies will be repelled. You will not like me now and you will like me a good deal less as we go on. Ladies, an announcement: I am up for it, all the time. That is not a boast or an opinion, it is bone hard medical fact. I put it round you know. And you will watch me putting it round and sigh for it. Don't. It is a deal of trouble for you and you are better off watching and drawing your conclusions from a distance than you would be if I got my tarse up your petticoats. Gentlemen. Do not despair, I am up for that as well. And the same warning applies. Still your cheesy erections till I have had my say. But later when you shag - and later you will shag, I shall expect it of you and I will know if you have let me down - I wish you to shag with my homuncular image rattling in your gonads. Feel how it was for me, how it is for me and ponder. 'Was that shudder the same shudder he sensed? Did he know something more profound? Or is there some wall of wretchedness that we all batter with our heads at that shining, livelong moment. That is it. That is my prologue, nothing in rhyme, no protestations of modesty, you were not expecting that I hope. " from The Libertine and the bottom of Nic's dark soul.

There is in every madman a misunderstood genius whose idea, shining in his head, frightened people, and for whom delirium was the only solution to the strangulation that life had prepared for him.
~Antonin Artaud

I hurt myself today.....to see if i still feel......I focus on the pain......the only thing thats real......The needle tears a hole.....the old familiar sting........try to kill it all away..........but I remember everything........what have I become, my sweetest friend .........everyone i know, goes away in the end.......and you could have it all, my empire of dirt........I will let you down..........I will make you hurt..........I wear this crown of thorns.....upon my liars chair......full of broken thoughts.........I cannot repair..........beneath the stains of time........the feelings dissapear.......you are someone else..........I am still right here.........What have I become, my sweetest friend..........everyone I know, goes away in the end...........and you could have it all, my empire of dirt..........I will let you down............I will make you hurt...........if I could start again, a million miles away..........I will keep myself..........I would find a way.......NINE INCH NAILS







Sunday, December 31, 2006
The New Year's Party

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Jessie was 18 years old when she entered Washington State University. Since puberty she had wanted to know everything she could about being a woman; so she read. She was a bad girl, locked in a good girl's body and mind.

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In her last two years of high school she saw the ads for "Girls Gone Wild" and imagined herself on a spring break flashing her breasts for the camera or having a make out session with some other hot female on film. These were the bad girl fantasies, that the good girl had. She knew to make them a reality would go against everything her parents had taught her, and if ever they saw her in a film like that; her mother would die and her father the Sheriff would hunt down and kill the producers of the film. She would fantasize and she would write about the fantasies; this was her dream world.

When she entered WSU, it was her desire to become a writer comparable to Anais Nin. It was Nin's writing that had first released her; she had gone to the library like a good girl and stumbled on the Diaries the young Anais had written. She read: "'There were always in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest'." and she knew that she was the one Nin was describing. Nin's writings were like scripture to her and she would mark pertinent passages, just as a zealot marked passages in the Bible. But it was not the Biblical interpretation of paradise that she sought; it was the paradise that would be found through her erotic escape. After all Nin had pointed the direction, when she wrote, “You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book, or you take a trip, or you talk with someone, and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom and death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death." She had been saved by Anais Nin.

She was a Liberal Arts student majoring in English Literature with a focus on creative writing. She was in a creative writing class with another 75 other freshmen and in some ways she felt like she was floundering. She had been writing in journals or on blogs for the past three years, but those entries were not critiqued, judged or graded; they were a stream of personal thoughts, filtered through spell check and archived. Some of her stories or post revealed her sexuality as she began to dip her toe into that ocean that is life. Her first date, her first disappointment, her first kiss, her first orgasm, masturbation and dreams were all revealed. Now she was being taught structure; how to color (with words) inside the lines; it was not creative, but rather stifling her creativity.

Her professor was a 35 year old male. He was tall, dark, handsome and bookish; in some ways the good girl was attracted and in many ways the bad girl was desirous. He was her instructor and her tormentor; for it was he who put the shackles on her creative spirit. It was the week before the holiday break that she approached him, regarding a comment he had made on her last paper. She had not completed the assignment, but had poured her soul into it and he showed appreciation, but was disappointed and wanted to know why there wasn’t more. As he arranged his papers and stuffed them into his leather briefcase, she approached. “Dr. Sheppard, my name is Jessie Anderson; do you have a minute?”

“What can I do for you Ms. Anderson?” He asked. Jessie handed him the graded paper. “Oh yes, I remember this paper. It was a good read, but was unfinished and yet you had more than enough time to do the work” While he spoke she was looking at his eyes; they were a very light blue, almost grey in fact. She had never seen them up close and they were hidden by reflections on his glasses as she sat in her seat. She imagined him without the horn rimmed glasses and realized he was quite a handsome man, even more handsome than she had thought. “Ms Anderson? Was there a question about my remark or an explanation as to why the paper wasn’t completed?” She realized he was talking and that she was staring at about the same time.

“It’s just that I want to write, but trying to write about something that doesn’t interest me is hard. I have been writing for years, but not the kind of things you are asking of me.”

“Oh, I see. You are already a creative writer and have taken this class to exhibit your work. What exactly do you write about or want to write about?” He asked the question and her reply became stuck in her throat.

“Have you ever read Anais Nin, Sir?”

“Yes I have, as a matter of fact. I have read the writings of many authors or erotica and find her writings as well as those of her lover (Henry Miller) to be among the best. Is that what you write Ms. Anderson; erotica?” Those grey eyes were peering into hers and she felt panic set in. She was frozen like a rabbit in front of a wolf; “tharn” was the word Richard Adams had used in Watership Down to describe that feeling in a rabbit and tharn was what she felt (Literally hypnotized with fear). She felt the blood rush to her face and the heat of her own blush. “Ms. Anderson, don’t be embarrassed; I am simply interested in finding out what it is you write.”

Her heart was racing as she responded, “Yes Sir, I mean I try; I want to write like her, she is my inspiration”

“And do you have any of these writings of yours?” He asked and she felt the flush return. “Ms. Anderson, I doubt Ms. Nin blushed as much as you. She was a gifted young woman who perfected her skills during her marriage to a much older man. I would like to see what it is you write so that I can help you.”

“I will e-mail you some things, if that’s alright. I must admit handing you stories based on my fantasies is embarrassing even though I have posted them on my website.” His eyes seemed to soften as he handed her a card with his e-mail address on it. “I’ll do it as soon as I get home” She grabbed the graded paper and exited the classroom without looking back.

When she got back to her dorm room, she pulled up the “Word” files that she needed and attached them to the e-mail she had written; it read “Dr. Sheppard, I hope you find these to be better than the paper you graded” and signed it Jessie. With a simple keystroke, she sent her Professor the key to her soul. Once the deed was done she opened one of Nin’s books; the passage in front of her, made her gasp. It read, “I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.” “Wasn’t that what the professor had been doing?”, She thought.

She was sitting at her computer and working on an assignment for another class, when she got his e-mailed response, “Very good. Do you have anything else?” She was excited, he had given her praise and asked for more. She pulled up more files, attached them to her response (“Thank, you”) and sent them off. After that e-mail was sent, her concentration for the subject at hand was lost. A thousand thoughts went through her mind. She felt as if she had stripped herself of all clothing and stood in front of him and said “This is who I am!” How could she return to the class on Thursday knowing that he knew her inner most secrets and fantasies; what had she done. She spent a very restless night; dreams about his eyes looking at her naked body kept waking her up. She tried masturbating, but even her multiple orgasms could not take her mind off of what she had done. On Wednesday morning she woke up exhausted and barely made it through her English Lit class. There had been no e-mail in the morning and none had arrived that night.

On Thursday morning, she didn’t feel anymore rested and as the hour of her Creative Writing class approached she felt almost nauseated. It took shear willpower to get her into the class and then into her seat. This would be the last class before the holiday break; she would then have two weeks to overcome her embarrassment. The door to the class opened as the last students took their seats and one of the student teachers walked to the podium “Dr. Sheppard will not be here today and he has asked me to fill in. Today we will be looking at and comparing the writing styles of Dean Koontz and Steven King; two contemporary American writers who have inspired thousands more.” She breathed a sigh of relief; she would not have to be stripped naked on this day.

At the end of the class; as she filed out of the room, the student teacher approached her. “Ms. Anderson, Dr. Sheppard asked if you would report to his office after your last class today.” There was that “tharn” feeling again. He hadn’t embarrassed her publicly, but she knew he would privately. She knew it was a meeting that she would have to endure and so agreed; feeling it was better to have it done with before the break, rather than after.

As she approached his office, she felt like a five year old being sent to the principle’s office. She knocked on the opaque glass window of the door and hoped no one would answer; unfortunately he did.

“Come in” He said, in an almost commanding voice. “Ah Ms. Anderson; thank you for coming. I wanted to tell you personally that I enjoyed your stories; they reveal much promise and a great deal of imagination. A fundamental rule of writing is to write about what you know. The two authors you discussed in class today, do just that. Sometimes their characters are metaphors for other people in their lives or for the demons that plagued them as children. But each has also been able to write in a different style under a
pseudonym with as much success. You have a raw talent and have been able to tell stories with very little experience; I believe you can excel with the proper training. Ms. Anderson I am a member of a writers guild; our focus is on erotica and romance. We believe that the difference between erotic writing and pornography is the reader’s experience and that it is up to the author to determine what that experience will be.”

She sat across from him in his office mesmerized. He was like a snake charmer with a magic flute and she was the snake under its spell. “Ms. Anderson, will you allow me to teach you?”

She was totally under his spell when she said “Yes”

“Good. The Guild is having its New Years party at the Henry Art Gallery on Campus and I would like you to be my guest. You must understand that the majority of those attending will be authors and that this party will be unlike anything you have known. The dress will be black tie or formal; do you have a formal?” She nodded, it was the same dress she had worn to her senior prom and had only been worn that once. “Anything that occurs that night will be up to you; you will be exposed to thoughts and ideas that will make your fantasies pale in comparison. I am not trying to scare you, but feel compelled to tell you; it will be an orgy”

The word struck her like a cold towel. She was being asked to a New Year’s party, by her professor and it was going to be an orgy. This was better than “Girls Gone Wild”, this was the stuff that real erotica was made of; it was a “dark adventure”. “I will be safe, won’t I” she asked.

“You will be as safe as you desire or as unsafe as you desire, it will be up to you. You will hear and see things you have never experienced, it will be up to you to accept what you want. There is one stipulation; no one can be told of the experience, not your best friend or your family. Our guild has been in existence for 100 years, and this has been our only rule. Can you live with that rule?”

In that second a Nin quote came to mind, “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” This was that day and she wanted to blossom. “Yes Sir, I can live with that rule. Shall I meet you at the Henry?”

“No I will pick you up at 8 P.M.; you may want to eat before we leave. There will be a buffet and cocktails, but it is best to have something on your stomach in case you become involved.” He got her address and she left. Her head was spinning and filled with unanswered questions; what did he mean “involved”, involved in what, with whom. Christmas had just become another day; it was New Year’s Eve that she now anticipated.

That Friday she left the dorm to join her family at home. She had purchased all her presents and loaded them into the trunk of her car. She arrived late on Friday night and was greeted by her mom and dad, “Have you learned anything?” her father asked sarcastically. Her mother frowned at him.

“Give the poor girl a break, Jeff; she’s been driving for a while and you can interrogate her in the morning.” She told her husband and then she turned to her daughter. “That will give you time to make up stories to feed his evil curiosity” she said and winked.

The two women hugged and chuckled as her father said, “Whatever, I have been able to get the truth out of tougher cases than you. Good night my darlings, I’ll see you in the morning Jess” Her mother helped her unload the car, put the presents under the tree and unpack her bags and then followed her husband to bed. Jessie stayed up and made an entry into her on-line diary (for her eyes only). She was bound by her word, and would not reveal anything to do with the upcoming event; even if her father did interrogate her.

The week before New Year’s Eve passed slowly. She had a wonderful Christmas and spent time with friends she hadn’t seen while away, but her secret burned away at her and she wanted to escape home and commence the experience she had dreamt of all of her young life. She wanted to journey into womanhood. Her nights were spent fantasizing about what she would see and what she might do. She rubbed her clit harder and faster as she imagined Dr. Sheppard’s eyes watching her, until she felt the intensity of her orgasm and the flow of her juices through her parted lips. She had masturbated since she was twelve, but only on occasion and never had her climaxes been so intense. Even when she had lost her virginity to the boy next door; it wasn’t like this. Realistically she admitted to herself, that no boy had ever brought her to climax; it had always been her fantasies while they screwed her that did the trick. She had fantasized about rape, gangbangs and every other thing she could to make the experience that much more exciting. Now all she had to do was think about the upcoming New Year’s party and her professor’s eyes to get the desired results.

It was the Thursday before New Year’s that she told her parents she was going to head back to school the next day. They were a bit unhappy that she wasn’t going to go with them to the party at the Chandlers down the street, but she told them she had an assignment to finish and needed the campus library; besides she needed to be back in class the day after New Years and didn’t want to drive all night with drunks out. The story was plausible (she was a creative writer, it had better be), and her father agreed that it wasn’t a bad idea. “Just don’t get into trouble after you get back there.” He told her. She packed her clothes, including the blue sequined prom dress with matching heels and left a little after noon on Friday.

When she reached her dorm there were very few people there. Most people wouldn’t be flying home until Tuesday and most instructors were allowing for one day to get over post New Year’s hangovers. Jessie took out the prom dress and hung it in the closet; she and her roommate had very little clothing that needed to be hung, so the closet was used as a storage unit. She unpacked her bags and set up her laptop to see if she had any e-mail; well it wasn’t any e-mail she was looking for, but one particular e-mail from her professor and it wasn’t there. “Christ I hope I know what I am doing” she thought as she went for her Nin Books. These books had become in some ways her version of the “Magic Eight Ball” used to predict and give advice. All she would do is randomly open a book and there would be a line or paragraph that spoke directly to her concern (concerns related to the pursuit of pleasure that is). She closed her eyes and reached for the stack, grabbed a volume and opened it (still with eyes closed) and then opened her eyes and read, "For you and for me the highest moment, the keenest joy, is not when our minds dominate but when we lose our minds..." it was an excerpt from her 1932 story “Henry and June”. There was the response, simply stated “don’t think, enjoy”

There could not have been a more powerful message; not because of what the line said, but because of the story that it came from. “Henry and June” was based on her life with author Henry Miller, it was the same story that Dr. Shepard had mentioned. The story is an account of her growth as a woman, lover and author while living with an older established author of erotica. “Could this be an omen that I will experience those same events” she thought. “Dr. Sheppard may be 17 years older than me, but he is also very hot and more than one of my female (and a couple of gay male) classmates has shared a fantasy about him.” Jessie laid back on her bed, kicked off her shoes, slid her pants off and removed her thong. She reached into the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out her one and only toy; a long slim vibrator with a curved tip to “hit” the G-spot.

She laid her head on her pillow parted and bent her legs and then slid the vibrator between her already moistened lips. Her toy had no buttons or adjustments, just a twist of the end and it began to purr. She held it between her first and second finger so that the end barely extended beyond the top of them as she cupped her hand over her shaven pussy. With eyes closed she began to bring the device out an inch or so and then lower it in again; she was slow and methodical as she thought about Dr. Sheppard taking her for the first time. She had only seen him in his teaching attire, but imagined his body to be lean and not overly developed, but with tight muscles. He would be tan (his face was tanned) and smell of a nice cologne. He would have undressed her and had her spin before him, nodding his head in approval as he took her in his arms. He would lay her down and let one hand explore her fresh young body as the other held the back of her head in a passionate kiss. His hand would cup her breast as his fingers squeezed her nipple and then slide down over her flat stomach until he found her “Delta of Venus”. Slowly he would part her lips and probe the warm moist path to her passion.

Her fantasy became so real that she no longer heard the hum of the vibrator; she only felt his finger and then cock inside of her. She moaned with pleasure as her mind let vision play out and her hand began to move faster and harder. She could feel her climax mounting just above her cupped hand and pressed the palm harder against her mons. He was no longer just making love to her; he was fucking her hard as her hand almost slapped itself against her wet pussy. “Fuck me, fuck me!” she repeated over and over again, until at last she came with an uncontrollable force. Her climax was so powerful that she ejaculated for the first time in her life. “Oh my God, oh my God, that was so good, so very good” she thought as she continued to let the vibe work inside of her. She could feel the wetness on her hand and thighs as she felt smaller orgasms occur. “Not when our minds dominate but when we lose our minds...", she thought.

When she finally brought the fantasy to an end; she realized that she had cum even more than she imagined. Her bed linen was saturated and would need to be changed, “but it was worth it she thought”. She took the soiled linen off the bed and pulled two fresh sheets from the shelf in the closet; in front of her was the blue sequined gown. She recalled her prom night and grinned. She had been asked by the editor of the school paper. He was an angry young writer, bent on uncovering conspiracies against the students and exposing school scandals. When he asked, it was sort of matter of fact. “Do you want to go to the prom?” He had never showed an interest in her and they had worked on the paper three of their four years there. Until he asked, she hadn’t given it much thought. As much of a romantic that she was, she hadn’t gotten very involved in the school social scene. She had been more attracted to the minds of the male faculty than the guys on the football team. There was also the stigma that came from being the Sheriff’s daughter; every boy in school was aware that he carried a gun and a badge and was very protective of “His little girl”. No one spoke of drugs, parties or anything else around her for fear she would “Narc them out”. The editor was kind of cute with hints of a beard and dark hair that had remained uncut most of their senior year. She agreed and went home to tell her parents.

“Do I need to run a background check on him.” Her father said in response to the news.

“We need to get you a dress and shoes” was her mother’s (and confidant’s) response. Her mother took her shopping and watched as she tried on no fewer than 20 gowns before she spotted and tried on the one with blue sequins. When she stepped out from the dressing room her mother smiled and put her had to her chest. “You are so beautiful” she said and it was true. She had never dressed like this before; her usual attire was levis and shirts or sweaters. She stood in front of the mirror and for the first time in her life saw a woman staring back. The gown was a darker blue, strapless that showed a tasteful amount of cleavage. The way the dress was cut accentuated the curves of her body and her firm breasts and it was slit up to her right knee which allowed her to walk comfortably. “Now we need to find shoes and make a hair appointment” her mother said as Jessie continued to look in the mirror. The sales woman knew just what shoes to show her. The shoes appeared to have been made for the dress; they were a Manolo Blahnik, slingback heel in a dark blue satin with a 4 inch heel. “You’ll need to practice walking in those” her mother said and Jessie agreed. When she stood in front of the mirror, she was the picture of beauty and elegance; walking and being graceful would take some time.

When the night of the prom came, her date showed up in a rented tux and was carrying a plastic box with an orchid wrist corsage. Her father opened the door and looked him up and down. “I hope you are a good boy tonight” he said as her mother came to the door. “Jessie, he’s here” her father yelled up the stairs. All three took a deep breath as she appeared at the top of the stairs. It was almost like something out of a movie; the girl they saw descending the stairs did not look 17, she was instead an ageless beauty, a debutante, Cinderella transformed.

The editor pushed the corsage towards her as she approached, “My mother said I should buy this”. Just as she had matured over night, he became an awkward school boy. “You look beautiful” he said without thinking.

“Thank you, you do too” she responded as her mother snapped a photo with the digital camera. Her parents could not have been further apart on their thoughts at that moment. While her mother was enjoying every second and imagining her own prom with the boy she would one day marry; Jessie’s father was trying to figure out how to smuggle a taser gun into her purse and advise her on its use before she left. “Let’s get going” Jessie said sensing the awkwardness of the moment.

“Enjoy yourselves” her mother said as they left.

“Be good” her father added with an emphasis on “good”

That night she was Cinderella. Boys who had never paid any attention to her were now huddled around her and ignoring their own dates. The editor felt out numbered and out gunned as half of the school’s “jock” population tried to move in on his date, but Jessie stayed with her date and turned every other guy down as well as several invitations to parties in the hotel where the prom was held. Once he realized that he wasn’t competing, the editor became more confident. They danced, laughed and talked about some of the people and faculty in attendance; when they left the prom, he took her to a nice restaurant for a late dinner. She arrived home shortly before 1 in the morning; her date gave her a kiss at the door and told her once again how “great” she was. It wasn’t something out of a story by Anais, but would be one of her stories.

She made her bed, took a shower and went to sleep with thoughts of the orgy in her head. It was those thoughts that probably instigated the dream.

It was Saturday night, Dr. Sheppard arrived in a limo and she met him at the door. He was wearing a tailored tux and a hooded cape. When she opened the door, he took her hand and elevated it as he looked her up and down. “Very nice” he said, “you have not disappointed me; I knew there was a beauty hiding inside the school girl” He escorted her to the car and opened the door. She had never ridden in a limo before and felt excited that so many first were about to occur. “Did you have something to eat?” he asked and she nodded, though as she recalled it had only been a sandwich. “Would you like Champaign?” He asked and she nodded once again. He pulled a bottle from the limo bar and poured a glass for each of them. “When we get to the Henry, there will be a reception in the Ante Room.

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Guest will mingle and introductions will be made. You will be offered Champaign and there will be a buffet. As the reception draws to an end you will be escorted to a dressing room along with the other female guest where you will be able to disrobe and hang up your gown. You are to follow the instructions of the matron who oversees this activity. She will hand you a mask before you leave the dressing room and offer you a tab of “Ecstasy”; it will be up to you as to whether you take it. You will then be brought to the Great Room and presented.”

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Her heart was pounding; she was no longer Cinderella, but Alice about to step through the “looking glass”. “You will be there for me; won’t you?” she asked

“I will always be close by” he said.

When they arrived at the Museum; it was just as he described. The reception went on until midnight and she met writers from around the world, and had read a few of their works. There were also several other, older faculty members present whom she would have never associated with erotica. At midnight there was a toast to the New Year, “Ut erotic iucunditas”; it was Latin and simply put meant “To erotic pleasures”.

The lights in the Ante Room were dimmed and an older woman in a Victorian gown came to one of the side doors and said, “Ladies, please follow me.” All of the women left the room as the men lit cigars and continued to toast the New Year with brandy. The women were led to a large room with a large walk-in closet. As they disrobed there was much chatter. Some were here for the first time while others had varying degrees of experience with the activities. One of the older women complimented her on her body and she felt exposed for the first time. Some fixed their makeup and dabbed perfume at various places on their bodies. She was nervous, but determined to see this adventure through. She asked one of the younger women about “Ecstasy”; she had never done any drugs, because she never had access to them and had seen how messed up some of her classmates had become. She had heard of “Ecstasy” and that it was a cross between acid, coke and an aphrodisiac, but since she had done none of those thing had no reference point. The girl told her to try it, that it would enhance every experience and bring out her true sexual being. This was exactly what she wanted, so when the time came and the bowl was passed she took one tablet.

“You’ll need more than that” one of the other girls said, “It’s going to be a long night” She watched as the girl took four tablets and swallowed them, then reached into the bowl and took three more. She was handed a mask much like she had seen on Madi Gras participants and realized that she no longer recognized any of the women she had undressed with. The women were now clad in nothing more than a mask and their shoes as they were led to the great room. The woman in the Victorian gown opened the door and introduced each woman. When it was her turn she stood there and saw the other women mingling with men all of whom were wearing masks and hooded capes over tailored tuxedos. She could not tell which of them was Dr. Sheppard. Her name was announced and she stepped through the door. One of the male figures approached and reached for her hand.

“Dr. Sheppard?” she asked

“Yes Jessie. I want to show you around, but must ask, did you take the Ecstasy”

“Yes Sir, I took four tablets, because one of the other girls said I would need that much”

“Four tablets, huh. You are an adventurous little thing aren’t you” he said as he wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his hand on her hip. This was the first time he had touched her all night and his hand felt warm on her flesh. “You are a very pretty woman” he said. “Woman” stuck in her mind as the drug began to take affect. Her skin began to feel warmer and everything she saw became surreal. She could hear his words as he took her from room to room, but it was the images that made her wet with anticipation.

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In one room men were openly fucking their partners; some had removed their masks and clothes while others watched and encouraged the coupling bodies. There was sodomy and oral sex going on all around her as she was led to the next room There two women were entertaining the men who stood and watched as the women brought each other to one climax after another. She felt her wetness on her hot skin as her escort stepped in front of her. He reached down between her legs and brought his fingers up into her wet cunt. She liked the feeling and began to undulate on his finger and then fingers as he spread her wider. “I think you are ready” he said, as he laid her on a table.

She was placed in such a way that her pussy was at the edge. Her escort spread her legs and brought his cock out of his unzipped fly. She never saw it, but felt it as it passed effortlessly between her lips into her cunt. He held her wrists at the edge of the table as he thrust himself deep inside of her. It was greater even than even her masturbatory fantasy had been and as she moaned and rocked on the table, she felt her climax coming. He also felt it and as she ejaculated stood back and watched her cum. Jessie’s head was in another world; it was a world of pleasure and sexual desire. It was the world she had gleaned from the Nin books.

She was lying on the table when she felt hands once again on her wrist and the cock slide into her cunt. “He wants more” she thought as the cock began to work its magic. The rhythm was different this time and the grasp on her wrists tighter but her body responded none the less. She was in a state of sexual bliss as she opened her eyes and saw that the man who was fucking her was shorter and heavier than the professor. Although it wasn’t him, she didn’t stop, but accepted his cum inside of her as she came at the same time. Her wrists were released and he pulled out as another man grasped them and shoved his cock into her. The pleasure blinded her from any apprehension as she was fucked repeatedly. Soon she felt hardened cocks in her unrestrained hands and knew instinctively to start stroking them. Every fantasy she could imagine was occurring as the stiffened cocks showered her with their loads.

She had drifted off into another place when she heard the professor’s voice, “Jessie, I am going to clean you up and then take you to another room.” She laid there with eyes closed and nodded. She felt the warm wash cloth as he bathed the cum from her breasts and thighs and then the warm towel as he dried her off. “Now come with me” he said, as he helped her to her feet. He led her to the room where the two women had been entertaining the men. “This is Margarite” he told her as he introduced her to the woman standing at the large table’s edge. “Margarite has expressed a desire to know you and explore you, will you allow her this pleasure?” he asked. Jessie looked at her masked escort and could see those grey eyes peering deep inside of her; she nodded her consent.

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The woman’s body was older and she recognized her voice as being the voice of the woman who had complimented her earlier. Margarite’s hand touched her cheek and then slowly moved down to her breasts. Her hands were soft and gentle, she touched her body in much the same way that Jessie touched herself. Jessie’s hands began to explore Margarite in much the same way. The two women caressed and their lips met. The kiss was long, and sensuous as their hands played together. When Margarite stepped back, she took Jessie’s hand and stepped onto a chair and then onto the large oval table; Jessie followed. Three other women had brought chairs onto the table and were entertaining the men as Margarite laid Jessie down. They kissed and their bodies rubbed against one another as their hands freely explored. Jessie had lost any and all inhibition as she felt the woman’s fingers entering her pussy. Her hand was smaller than the men’s had been and she was fucking her with her five fingers gathered together. With each push Jessie spread her legs further apart until Margarite’s hand was lost inside of her. The sensation was unlike any she had ever felt as the woman fisted her. When she came; she flooded the table with her cum. Margarite first brought her wet hand to her mouth and then to Jessie’s to share the nectar. Then she put her mouth to the young girl’s pussy and began licking her, like a mother cat cleaning her kitten. Jesse drifted off into that quiet place again as other women’s mouths and hands began to enjoy her.

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Jessie felt two hands on hers as she was brought into a sitting position and opened her eyes to the masked grey eyes of her professor. “You are a very fast learner” he said, as he helped her to her feet. "I now want to show you a room you have not seen." She nodded as he led her down a hallway past other guests. This room was darkened and the only light present came from the fire in the massive fireplace. “You have experienced a variety of pleasures and sensual delights tonight; now I would like you to experience the pleasure that can come from sensual pain” he told her, “Do you know what I am talking about Jessie?” Jessie shook her head; she didn’t understand what he was talking about. “You have read stories in which a girl was bound and whipped by a captor, and then made to surrender to him, haven’t you?” Jessie had read stories like that, but was uncertain about whether she would like it. She nodded. “Do you trust me?” he asked and she nodded again. “Will you allow me to take you in this way?” he asked and she nodded still a third time. “You are a very good girl” he told her as he led her to the large wooden cross on the right side of the room.

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Two other men shackled her wrists and ankles to the crosses arms as the orange glow from the fire danced across her skin. She felt his hand on her shoulder as he whispered in her ear, “Beautiful”. Shortly after his hand left that shoulder she felt the first lash of the single tail across her ass. It stung and she cried out, but still another lash landed. Her mind was a frenzy of emotions; anticipation of the next blow, pain, fear, and desire. Beyond all the other feelings she still felt this lust for the experience. The pain went away as the lashes fell; she got to a place where all she could do is step back and observe mentally what the others in the room were seeing physically. When it stopped she was resting against the cross. She felt his hand on her shoulder again as he kissed her cheek. The other two men released her from her restraints and she was laid on her back on a white bear skin rug in front of the fireplace. Men took her hands and ankles and positioned her in much the same way she had been on the cross. Her ass stung and she struggled, but their grip could not be broken. She opened her teary eyes and saw a tall, lean tanned man standing naked before her; in one hand he held a knife. He knelt down between her legs, while she looked up at his masked face. He brought the tip of the blade to the nape of her neck and her heart raced. She didn’t say a word or utter a sound as he brought the blade down her body. He touched her nipples and she could feel the point; she wondered if he had cut her, if she was bleeding or would be as the knife reached her pussy. The fingers of his left hand probed her wetness as the handle of the knife was placed in her. She struggled, but her tormentor continued to fuck her with the knife.

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Jessie was confused by all that she was feeling, when she heard the ringing in her ear. She opened her eyes to find herself in her room and in her bed as her alarm rang in her ear. She jumped up and grabbed the digital alarm. It was 8A.M. on Sunday Dec31st 2006. It had all been a dream; her pussy was indeed wet, but she bore no marks from a whip or knife. “Oh, my God” she thought, “it was so real, so unreal”. She jotted notes down about what she could remember and fixed some coffee. She spent the next ten hours trying to decide whether to go through with the date and finally decided that her creative mind was not going to dampen this experience. After having a sandwich, she showered, fixed her hair and put on the gown and shoes.

At precisely 8 P.M. a limo pulled up in front of the dorm and she met its occupant at the door. The professor stood there in a tailored tux wearing a hooded cape. He took her hand and elevated it as he looked her up and down. “Very nice” he said, “you have not disappointed me; I knew there was a beauty hiding inside the school girl” Jessie’s eyes widened as he led her to the limo and opened the door. As the car drove off a passerby notice the illuminated license plate “WHTRBBT” and thought “There goes Alice”

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Posted at 06:30 pm by BondageMaster

 

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My Extended Profile


I have been both a Master and Dom in the BDSM lifestyle for 40 years. I am currently in Sin City, (Las Vegas, Nevada), but I have plied my art all over the country and yes, the giving of pain and pleasure is an art.

I started this because I thought there might be an interaction between myself and like minded individuals, but found most willing to look and not speak; for this reason I have eliminated the tag board and your ability to comment (Consider yourself gagged).

My Blog has become a reflective self analysis and has enabled Me to vent. It has reflected on my childhood, BDSM and it has been a place to share poetry, stories, and art; all erotic in their own way

Having written here for over three years, I realized that I wanted this to be the home of My impure thoughts and deeds; I decided to create another home for the menusha that comes to mind. I created Alt-Thinkining for those who have an interest in my political and social side and who might be appauled or offended by My more carnal thoughts (I love My carnal thoughts ).

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Dominant

I am a dominant man. I am just that. I am not dominant because of any superiority on my part. Not because I feel I am more intelligent,or wiser. I do not dominate because of the strength or mass of my body. I am not, nor would I want to be dominant with all women. Yet to you, I am Master.



I am your Master only after earning your trust and and embracing your submissiveness. I have looked into your heart and mind and clearly see your desires and passions. You have thrown away your fears and inhibitions. You tell me of the needs of your heart and body. You have given me total access to your soul, and I accept the responsibility and honor.



You are a woman. You are not weak and inferior because of it. You are a treasure to be cherished. We are not equal. I have the strength of body and mind, and the instinctive need to protect, possess, defend, and provide for you. You are a woman and instinctively stronger of will and heart. Your belief in me gives me courage and direction. Your strength disperses my doubt. Your needs and desires encourage and give purpose to my efforts.



We are not equal. We are halves of a whole. We compliment each other and make each other complete. My desire to dominate you is instinctive. It is not to degrade you nor is it degrading to you because you are secure in being totally feminine. We recognize and accept our worth, and our need for someone to trust and fulfill our needs.



You are sure, strong and proud in your womanhood. You do not submit as acceptance of inferiority, but from strength and passion. You expect a man to stand strong and be a man. You desire and flourish in the strength and control of a man. In return you present the control of your body, unqualified trust and honesty and the faithfulness of your heart.



You submit because I have earned your trust. Because I have opened my heart and soul to you. Because I have listened to your words with my ears and heart and have learned to anticipate your needs and emotions. And because I have proven worthy in your eyes, you have given me the only true treasure of life; You have given me dominance over you.



What you give is not abnormal, but pure, natural and the rarest gift a woman can give a man. You have given me complete and unshakable assurance of your commitment to me. Your submissiveness is a magnificent gift and sacred responsibility. I accept this from you with humility and joy. I understand the rarity and purity of this gift. I recognize it is your body and soul, your heart and mind.

I dominate only because you have allowed me too and when I see you kneel before me, in my mind and heart, you are raised above all other women, and all the treasures on the earth. What you give freely cannot in reality be bought.

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And From a Submissive Woman

I find pleasure, joy, and fulfillment from being submissive to another in a loving relationship. I am not weak, or stupid. I am a strong woman, with firm views and a clear concept of what I want out of my life. I do not serve out of shame or weakness, but out of pride and strength. I look to my loving Master for guidance and protection, for never am I more complete than when he is with me. I know that he will protect my body, my mind, and my soul with his strength and wisdom.

He is everything to me, as I am everything to him. His touch awakens me and his thoughts free me. Only in serving him do I find complete freedom and joy. His punishments are harsh, but I accept them thankfully, knowing that he has my best interests always foremost in his mind. If he desires my body for pleasure, I shall joyfully give it to him, and take pleasure myself from knowing that I have brought him happiness. However, the pleasure of the flesh is but one facet of any relationship. The love, the trust and sharing, the words spoken and felt, those are all parts of this relationship.

My body is his, and if he says I am beautiful, then I am. No matter what I look like to others, I am beautiful in his eyes, and because of that I hold my head high... .. for who can tell me that my Master is wrong in seeing the beauty in me? If he says I am his princess, then I am that...regal and graceful. And if I see laughter at me in the eyes of others, I do not recognize it, for who are they to call my Master wrong?

If he says I am his toy, his slut, his tramp, then I am that...as wanton and dirty as he wants me to be, and if others do not see this, then it is they who are blind, not my Master. My mind is his, to expand, to explore, to know as only he can. I have no secrets from him...for secrets are a thing that would keep me from being more perfectly his. Secrets would put a wall up between my Master and myself...and I do not want walls.

His lessons are not always ones I would seek on my own, but they are lessons he has decided I need, and so I learn from him. My soul is his, as bare to his touch as ever my skin could be when I kneel naked at his feet. Never a moment goes by when I do not feel his presence, be he miles away or standing over me.

I spend my days knowing that the energy and thought he puts into our relationship is as much for my benefit as for his, and look forward to each lovingly crafted scene that we do together.

His part is much harder than mine, and I know this and am grateful that he cares enough about me to spend his time and energy so freely on me. I have the easier job: to feel, to experience, to let myself go and abandon everything to him. I am his pleasure and his responsibility, and he takes both seriously. I am a submissive woman. I am proud to call myself that. My submission is a gift that I do not give lightly, and can only be given to one who can appreciate that gift and return it tenfold.

Only to he who has that strength will I give myself fully, because I am strong and proud.

I am a submissive woman.


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"For women the best aphrodisiacs are words,
The G-spot is in the ears"~Isabel Allende



Things I Had To Hide
Click Here To Enter


Long Stories

(Series)

Shaking the Family Tree Chapter I
Shaking the Family Tree Chapter II
Shaking the Family Tree Chapter III
Shaking the Family Tree Chapter IV
Shaking the Family Tree Chapter V
Shaking the Family Tree -The Music Lover

Conjuring Adonis I
Conjuring Adonis II
Conjuring Adonis III
Conjuring Adonis IV

Dream Lover I
Dream Lover II
Dream Lover III

Vlad's Lesson Plan
Vlad's Next Semester
Vlad's Final Lesson
Vlad's Beginning
Vlad's Resurrection Part 1
Vlad's Resurrection Part II

The Libertine of Libby Part 1
The Libertine of Libby Part 2
The Libertine of Libby Part 3
The Libertine of Libby Part 4
The Tawdry Tale of Tommy Two Tongues Part 1
The Tawdry Tale of Tommy Two Tongues Part 2
The Tawdry Tale of Tommy Two Tongues Part 3
The Libertine of Libby Part 5
The Libertine of Libby Part 6
The Libertine of Libby Part 7
The Libertine of Libby Part 8
The Libertine of Libby Part 9
The Libertine of Libby Part 10 (Last Chapter)

j's Seduction
j's Objectification
Recreating j
Educating j

The Photo Shoot Part 1
The Photo Shoot Part 2

Electra's Story Part 1
Electra's Story Part 2

Sunday's Child Part 1

Short Stories
(For those seeking immediate gratification)

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The Book
Dessert
De Sade, the Orgy and the Trial
I Cum In Peace
Biting My Way Into The New Year
Her Master's Test
Off White, Six Defective Doms and One Pathetic Troll
Going Postal
StepfordSlaves
Liberation
The New Year's Party

Nocturnal Events
Nocturnal Emissions
Death
Love's Garden
Patty On A Leash/Re-written
To Confess or Not To confess
Binding of Kay
Raising Bella Donna
One Last Good-bye
Spare the Rod, Spoil the Sub
Stella In The Stacks
Red Rain
Misjudged
Breakfast With A Twist
Mon Couer's Papillon (My Heart's Butterfly)
When Daddy's Girl is Bad
The Sitter, The Voyeur and Graduation Day
Please Don't Hurt Me
Cumalot or Knights In Tarnished Armor
Her Halloween Date
His Voice
Life's Little Ironies
The Gift
My Slut ester
Beads
Playing With Toyosi
The Slave Auction
#9 - A Detective Story

Ramblings and Observations
(For those who want a piece of My mind)

Puppy Love
Cunniliguis As A Religious Rite
Players, Pretenders and Abusers
Edgeplay and the Knife
My Youth
Submission
BDSM Website Security
Pain
On Missing Play
Beads a Semi-Fictional Account
Playing With Toyosi or How To Torture A Scammer
Hospital Stories


Photo Interpretations
(As I See It)
La Image'
La Image' II
The Shower
Lips
My Toy
Waiting
Daddy's Girl
Blossom
Chocolate and Roses
Special Delivery
Waiting II
Orgasm
Edge Play
Cocktails
This Flesh
Smoke
Eve
Illusion
Disillusion
Passion
Watching
Not Watching
Intimacy
Tango 2
Inside of You
Dreamscape
Demons
Despair
Spent
Mentally bound
His Flower
Her Grief

Poetry of a sort
(very little rhymes)

Tango
Shadows
Faded Words on Yellowing Paper
I Was
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Bound
Ladies of the Night





Bedtime Stories
(Fables)
My Love Fable
Pond of Sorrow and Tears
The Journey


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Extreme Body Modification
(Warning some of these photos may offend, even people with twisted minds)


Links


(They May Spank You For Viewing)



Married Man's Fucktoy
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Dee Reawakening
Polyfetishist Directory
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Mostly Appropriate
Shadow Of A Soul
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Liz Vicious Fan Site
La Libertine's Salon
T of Reknin Day
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