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







Saturday, July 16, 2005
The Liberation




Quite without thinking about it, the cell he was in had become his world. Days and weeks had become months and years and the years had become decades. His isolation was complete; there was no prison yard, no interaction with other inmates or guards. In fact he only knew there were guards because every day at the same times something that was supposed to be a meal was shoved through a hole in the door.


The cell was 5 feet wide by 8 feet long; it had a hole in the floor for a toilet and a single cot for a bed. 7 feet off the ground there was a 2 foot by 3 foot window; his only source of light and his only portal to the outside world. He had spent most of his life watching days become nights through that window. Because he was from an arid part of the world, there was no real delineation of the seasons; there were just countless days during which nothing changed except the sky.


He lived or survived this hellish life, never really giving it any consideration. He had forgotten the faces of his mother, father and sister (last seen as an infant in his weeping motherís arms). He had never known the pleasures of a woman, however as he had grown his body had changed. He had awakened in puddles of his warm cum, not knowing why it was there or what it was. He had awakened with his cock engorged; the experience was almost painful and he was frightened by it. Because he didn't understand it, he couldn't even enjoy the release that might have come from simply stoking it. His life had begun in that cell and as far as he knew would one day end there. The saddest reality of his plight was that he had no memory of why he had been imprisoned. There had been no trial, only the police who came in the night, who seized him, put a bag over his head as his mother and sister watched. He was cast into the cell and that was his last human contact.


It was almost as if he had become invisible to the world, instead of the world being invisible to him. He never smiled or laughed, but on occasion wept quietly. There were no screams or out-cries, he had all but forgotten how to speak. This was his life when the storm came. He awoke to the thunder in the distance. The sky was almost green and the clouds were pushing past his window faster than he had ever seen them. He had no idea what time it was, there was no sun and there was no moon; only burst of thunder and now lightning against that sea green sky. He could feel the electricity in the air as the skys opened and the rain began to fall.



He sat on his cot, staring at the window. The rain had begun to come down; not as a simple storm, but in sheets driven by the wind. He stared up at that window and was suddenly blinded by a lightning strike which appeared to have entered his window and reflected itself off of his wall. He could still hear the burst of thunder that came at the exact same moment; his ears rung as if the thunder had exploded between them. He rubbed his eyes trying to regain his sight; his vision was blurred and seemed to be playing tricks on his mind, for against the wall of his cell he saw a white silhouette of another person. In seconds he realized that it was not an illusion, but the body of a woman, whose curves appeared to be much like the lightning which had appeared in his cell.



Like a frightened child he just stared with his eyes wide. She stood before him as if she had just stepped out of a shower. Her naked body wet with the rain confused him; he had no knowledge of women. He began to sense something else; there was sweetness in the air. His cell had smelled like many things over the years, but never had it smelled pleasing. As he tried to understand what was going on the form moved. She turned toward him exposing what could only be the face of an angel. That, he was sure had to be the explanation; he must have been hit by the lightning and this vision was the angel sent to gather him. The angel opened her mouth and said, "I am not an angel, nor am I here because you are dead, because you are not.


How could it be that she had heard his thoughts, and why was he no longer frightened. The whole concept of fear had evaporated and he felt as if she had always been there. "Who are you then, if not the vision of an angel?", his words once again thought, but thought knowing that they would be heard. "I am the key to your cell and I will set you free." was all she said. She approached him and as she did the sweet smell grew, it was then he realized it was her and it wasn't a perfume but a natural scent. He tried to understand what was happening to him, but all he could think was he had finally gone mad from the solitude.


She was now within a foot of him; he couldn't help but look at her and as he did a rush of unrecognized feelings washed over him. He looked at her face and saw eyes that though dark seemed to emit a light, her lips while not painted appeared red against her alabaster flesh. Her teeth were brilliant white and her breath was like a fresh breeze against his face. Though he felt shame, he could not help but gaze down over her body. Her shoulders were round, and her breast white and supple; her nipples like her mouth appeared reddened against her light skin. She had a narrow waist and rounded hips. Her legs were firm but not muscular and where they met was a small patch of hair. Through the hair he could see her labia which still appeared to be wet from the rain, though the remainder of her body was dry.


As he gazed upon her, he dropped to his knees. He didn't know why; it was as if a goddess stood before him and he wanted to worship. He reached out and she stepped into his open arms. He wrapped them around her and drew her towards his face. There was a second scent now, stronger and sweeter than the first; he knew it was coming from that wetness buried beneath the hair. Almost as if by animal instinct he opened his mouth and began to drink from her. As he licked and suckled and as he did her labia parted. Her hands grasped his head firmly and held it there. His tongue parted those lips and drew in as mush of her as he could. Her hips moved with him and all of a sudden he felt the rush of her warm ejaculate in his mouth. It was if she was giving him some magic elixir for he felt a new born strength.


Something else was happening now. His cock had once again hardened but there was no pain, only a throbbing and this time (as if by instinct) he knew how to relieve it. He lowered her to the floor of the cell; he parted her legs and lowered his throbbing virginal cock into her. So many things happened in that instant, that he wasn't sure what he was experiencing. He felt his cock in her warm wetness, he felt his heart pounding and he felt her responding to him. She moved slowly at first and then faster, her arms were around his and he could feel her pulling him closer/deeper into her. Her fingernails dug into his flesh and though he knew it was pain he should be feeling, it wasn't. He could feel some animal inside of him coming to life. As she brought her legs up and wider apart he felt a feeling just above his cock and beneath his stomach that was unexplainable. It was as if he was going to explode, and with that he released himself in her.


Her eyes widened and at that same moment she uttered an audible moan and began to writhe under him. He could feel the wetness gush from her body as a peace came to them both. Her hold on him relaxed and her arms fell to her side. He rose up and saw the light in her eyes and a smile on her red lips. He took himself from her and gently moved down her body until once again his eyes were fixed on her wet labia. He put his mouth to her again, sucking the juices (hers and his) from her body. With those juices on and in his mouth he brought his lips to hers and fed her the nectar he had found.


They lay on the floor for what seemed to be hours, wrapped in each other. She rose above him and asked, "Are you ready to go now?" "How?" was his only response. She looked up at the window; the storm was still going on outside. It was strange that he hadn't noticed, but since the lightning strike that had brought her to him everything had been like a dream. There was a new glow about her, as she beckoned to him. He rose to join her as she reached upward towards the window.

There was a sudden flash of lightning and clap of thunder which filled the room and in that instant they were gone. The cell was empty except for the cot and a wet, stain in the clay on the floor. If you looked at the clay floor you could almost make out the male and female forms which had been part of the clay. In a flash of lightning man had been set free from his cell and was delivered from his hell to his paradise by woman.

Posted at 09:46 am by BondageMaster

Aspasia
July 17, 2005   08:31 PM PDT
 
Beautiful vignette, Nic. Symbolic, perhaps?
Becca
July 16, 2005   10:46 AM PDT
 
Interesting, beautiful story... Aren't we all locked in some sort of jail cell - it may not be physical, but within our own skulls?
 

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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)


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