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 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 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, July 24, 2005
Binding Kay

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Growing up she felt almost discarded. The house was cold as were the people in it. "Invisible" she thought, sitting at countless meals with seldom a word of acknowledgment being spoke. She would test them (her parents) both to see if they were alive and to prove that she was alive. Sometimes the response was physical, but more often than not it made her even more invisible to them, for them. Their gray world with it's gray sunsets made everything she saw just a bit bleak, a shadow world without substance. There were few rewards, for being good and countless hours of solitude for being bad; this is love she thought.

There was a mirror and there were dolls; she played out her experiences and her hopes. Barbie the Beautiful vs Ken the unattainable; in the end she'd get her anatomically incorrect male. As time went on she discovered desire. Left alone those many hours in her room, she began to explore herself. In the mirror she watched her hand as it touched her breast and saw her nipple become erect. First she touched the tip to feel the firmness of what had once been soft skin. She then placed her perfect little nipple between her thumb and fore finger and began to squeeze; this experience gave her both pain and excitement. She began to understand her body.

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When exploring her pussy (her mother called it a vagina, but the kids at school talked and to them it was a pussy so it would be to her as well), she laid in front of the mirror with her back propped up on pillows against the bed. She had her knees bent and her legs spread so she could see what was resting between her thighs, What she saw initially was a soft small protruding mass of flesh and the ruffled edges of what she would later learn was her labia (lips), yes she found her second set of lips and wondered what a kiss would feel like there. She brought her fore finger slowly down between these new found treasures and rubbing gently discovered their eagerness to part. They became moist making the rubbing easier and as she rubbed she touched that little mound of protruding flesh and discovered her clit and watched as it (like her nipples) transformed itself. It became larger and almost demanded more attention. The forefinger had ceased to rub her lips and now made tiny circles on and around her clit. She felt her desire grow and closed her eyes as the rubbing intensified. Her body now was responding without her control and although she didn't know what was happening, she knew she couldn't stop. The experience of her first orgasm was electrifying; she felt the throbbing of her pussy and a pressure just above it and with her eyes closed felt as if the room was rocking with her. That pressure grew and every particle of her being became alive and the second that she came she cried out and felt tears in her eyes and the wetness between her legs.

She laid back breathing hard, wondering if anyone had heard her cry of pleasure; knowing that even if they had there would be no response by them, there never was. She laid in front of that mirror still rubbing and then effortlessly probed her forefinger deeper into her pussy. The finger met no resistance and aided by the satin like cum her body had created she was able to explore deep inside only to discover that this too turned her on. She brought the forefinger out and raised it to her nose to discover her scent and then to her lips to discover her taste. It was wonderful and it was part of her and hers to enjoy without asking. The finger resumed its adventure and was joined by a second finger as her thumb played with her clit. She laid there in a timeless vacuum literally enjoying herself; climaxing time and time again until she fell asleep exhausted. When she woke it was dark, and she dressed and went down stairs.

The grayness of the rest of the world descended on her as she read the note: "We've gone out to eat. We called you, but you didn't come so we are going alone. There are leftovers in the fridge help yourself, love Mom". She looked at the words "called you but you didn't come" and smiled and then laughed; she had not heard them call because she was cumming, how ironic. With that thought and the memory of her first orgasms still warming her body, 10 year old Kay went to the fridge to get her dinner.

For the next several years she pleased herself whenever and where ever possible. Her body developed and her sensitive nipples grew into things of beauty resting upon two firm well developed breast. She never got much taller ("all that masturbation must have stunted my growth", she would later tell people), but she became shapely and was intoxicating to boys. Her features were fine like the rest of her. Though there were many who might have adored her, she found herself drawn to one who was much like her dad. He was aggressive and assertive and had a reputation. "To be chosen by this boy was like the coolest thing that could happen", her teenage mind thought. She thought about it at night as she imagined him entering her. Her fingers became his cock as she pushed harder and faster and eventually came, but she knew a real boy must be better than any fantasy.

She not only wanted touch, but satisfaction. They were still there in their gray world but hers had warmed. There was a flush in her cheeks and she could feel her heart beat, and there was the mirror. In the mirror she saw the child grow, the changes take place. In the mirror she saw how life was affecting her. In the mirror she saw the girl transform, she was a woman. The boy had noticed her, but that was all; she wanted more. She decided to seek him out and win him; for once he discovered her he would surely treasure her. So the night of her best friend's birthday party, she dressed in her cutest outfit, wearing her sexiest thong (her only thong, bought without her parents knowledge), and without a bra. She walked through the gray house almost emitting a soft glow and said "I'm leaving" to the non-attentive bodies sitting staring at the TV. She was 16 when she walked out that door.

She found him at the party, hanging out with a couple of other guys who had been able to find some beer. They had each had a couple and were feeling a buzz when she arrived. She walked over to him and took the bottle from his hand and put it to her lips, "That’s nice can I have one?" she asked. "Sure", he said looking down inside her unbuttoned shirt. He knew she was bra-less and could almost see her nipples, he was immediately aroused. He handed her the beer and she turned; his eyes fell on this beautifully shaped ass in tight blue jeans. "Where are you going?" he asked, "I thought you were with me?". "I could be, if you wanted me to be" she said, and with that she had him (she thought). The night went on and they had another beer and talked and danced. He was considerably taller than her and when he held her close she could smell the scent of his body and she became aroused. She could also feel the bulge in his pants so she knew he was aroused, "lets go upstairs and talk " he said and he took her hand.

They found an empty bedroom and entered; they sat on the edge of the bed and looked into each others eyes. He brought his mouth down to hers and she closed her eyes, the room spun as she experienced that first kiss and her chest heaved. As he kissed her he unbuttoned her blouse and brought his course warm hand to her breast. She felt it and dissolved even deeper into the whirlpool. It was as if she was guiding him to all her treasures; he discovered her nipple and squeezed (just as she had ) and she could feel her wetness begin.

She laid back on the bed, her blouse now fully open. She casually unbuttoned the button of her jeans, but not without being noticed. He brought his hand down on her belly and slid it under the thong and then with his forefinger outstretched pushed it into her. He hadn't touched her clit which was begging for the attention she gave it, but instead just began bringing his finger in and out. "God you're wet!" he said, "I really want you!". These were the words she had yearned for, she was wanted. As she slid her pants off he, watched and removed his. His cock already swollen fell out of the fly of his boxers and she giggled. When he slid the boxers off, she saw the first naked man/boy she had ever seen and the first cock. She had no experience with a cock, only her fingers and so she sat up and reached for it. At the tip was a clear glistening drop, almost like dew. She put it on her finger and tasted it; it was almost sweet, and different from her taste. She was still thinking about the taste when she felt his hand on the back of her head, "suck it" he said, and she let it into her mouth.

This was all too new, she had no idea what she was doing, but she did know that the man who said he wanted her, wanted her to do this and so she sucked feeling his hand slightly pulling her hair as he bobbed her head causing his cock to go in and out of her mouth. He pulled her head back and looked at her, "That was your first head wasn't it?", she lowered her eyes and audibly whispered "yes". "You'll get better at it, now lay back" and she did. He parted her legs and looked at her glistening pussy, "good, still wet" and with that he crawled up on her and put his cock into her. It was the largest thing she had ever felt, "maybe four fingers" she thought and longer. She felt it go in and a sudden pain that was gone as fast as it came as he pushed in and out of her. There were no words spoken; he went about his business humping her faster and faster; she laid there in wonderment, her body wasn't responding as it did with her. She was aroused but it was going unnoticed. She brought her legs up higher and wrapped them around him to bring him deeper into her pussy and so that his body would rub her clit. It worked, she felt the arousal increase as she got into his rhythm , she felt the swirling of the whirlpool and her body just rise and fall with him. She felt the pressure grow and held on as long as she could and then cried out. He raised up and to look at her and smiled then began to hump ferociously, "you had yours , now I want mine" he said.

The rhythm changed, everything changed. He wasn't making love to her anymore he was just fucking her pussy. She laid there as he pounded himself in and out, until he came and exhausted dropped down on her tiny frame almost smothering her in his sweaty chest. "That was great! " he said, "You're very good, what’s your name again?" he asked. "Kay" she replied with her eyes lowered. "Well Kay, what you didn't know about giving head you made up for fucking" he said as he removed himself from her body. When he stood up he looked down at her and then at his cock, both had blood on them as did the bed spread beneath. "Holy shit, this was your first time at every thing wasn't it", with head bowed she nodded. He had just taken the most wonderful moment of her life and turned it into a shameful experience. "I never popped a cherry before, so it was a first for me too" he said as he raised her head to look into her eyes. As if he could see her confusion he said, "You were very good, and I want to see you again." She looked up at him and said, "I'll get better, I just need practice!", "oh I'll help you and teach you what I like", he told her as he finished dressing. "Now you better clean yourself up and get dressed, oh and throw that spread some place" . With those words he was out of the room.

She stood at the sink washing the blood from her stomach and from between her legs. She looked at her beautiful body and thought "Now I am whole, now I am a woman". When she had finished dressing and thrown the bedspread in the closet, she left the room and descended the stairs. It was as if everyone in the room knew for every eye was on her (or at least so she thought). At first because she was caught up in her own thoughts she didn't hear the voices, but soon like a buzz the voices and the music in the background became louder. "The real world" she mused. She saw him standing with his friends; he had another beer and they were all laughing when she approached. "What's the joke" she asked. "Nothing really" he responded and then said, "Guys, this is Kay and she's with me". Her heart skipped, she looked up at him and slid her arm around his waist. She was in love.

That ended just after her 17th birthday. She found out he had others that he was teaching too. She said good-bye and dumped him. She looked at the gray world and traveled in and out of it, but even that world cracked as her parents indifference to her became spread into their relationship and it too ended. There were other men, who made her theirs. Some were too gentle, one was too vicious and beat her. She either, found them too weak or brutal until she met one that showed potential. He seemed caring at first, helped her through some tough spots and when it came to sex he often rocked her world. She was his, but he wasn't hers, not completely, sometimes not at all. Often he left her in tears without a mark on her body. His words were his weapon of choice and he used them like a surgeon knowing just what to say to make the deepest cut. The scars he left were invisible, but each would deaden nerves until the pain deadened her completely. "This is love" she thought and the grayness descended back on her. Hope was fading.

Seven years had passed since that first experience. In her mind she believed there was a reason for the pattern of her life; she didn't really deserve happiness. It was a lie men used to fuck her and as much as she enjoyed it, the pain of their leaving left her empty. "Its all bullshit, just fuck me, but don't tell me you love me because I know you don't". She had an attitude now; she wanted to prove the lie so she challenged her lovers to a mind game. She would either lose by proving herself right, or crush the more sensitive ones, proving she shouldn't be loved. It was a win/win situation to her, when in reality it was a lose/lose situation. She had been in her last relationship (the one with the psycho-surgeon) for seven months. Each time he said "It's over" she waited for him to say "I'm sorry, let's fuck" and they did, but she was unhappy. She knew there was no future with him, she knew he was a loser who would never amount to a thing, she knew he was a jackass who treated her badly, but she also knew that knowing this was better than starting over, believing a new lie. Being used by a new liar.

It was while into this relationship, in this total state of skepticism that she began reading the on-line post of one that most would consider perverted. He was aware of himself and his perversions and openly exhibited them to the world. He begged the question "What is pleasure without pain?" It was the Yin to pain's Yang and without knowing pain, one could not really know to what extent they had experienced pleasure. She could identify with that philosophy on many levels. She had felt pain physically that aroused her from the day she discovered her body. From the time she sat in front of her mirror at ten and squeezed her nipple she had seen her body respond. She had had her hair pulled and been bitten and all of it was during passionate sex and it heightened the experience. She also knew the pain of rejection and how much happier she was when once again acknowledged. This man knew about these things and more, but he was much older, much, much older.

She read his words, his stories, his rhyme. She felt his sarcasm and enjoyed it, so she acknowledged him, and to her surprise was acknowledged by him. He responded by reading her words and this man who spoke of pain and claimed to be a Dominant, told her that she was a fool for wasting her life pursuing the love of abusers. She was immediately confused, he beat women, with whips and floggers and played with knives on their bodies and he was calling the men in her life abusive. "I do it with their consent , because it satisfies a need and in return they give me their submission", he wrote. "I neither break their spirit, nor deprive them of their will, but they surrender it to me and I give them My control and my love". "But you bring tears to their eyes" she wrote him, "And I bring smiles to their mouths, and fill them. I put desire in their lives; that desire that smolders within and satisfy their desire to please and serve" he responded.

"The men you have known, that you have written about and loved, took from you much more than they ever gave. They used you for their pleasure, and yours was just a coincidence, and I suspect never considered. As I read your words I sense you have always been submissive to those men you wanted, and probably dominated those that wanted you. I would imagine you test everyone to see which category they might fall in. Love is weakness, you know that from experience so to love someone is to show your weakness for them and you want a man who isn't weak. The problem with your thinking is, you want to be loved. Your cynicism has created a conundrum". She read these words and felt the slap in the face and the challenge. "You think you know me? You only know what I tell and there is much I don't tell", she thought, but that wasn't her response. Instead she demurely implied, "I'm available", but she really wasn't because she had one who was not weak, one to whom she would run when beckoned even if he crushed her between visits, she knew he'd be back and want her again.

She wrote and spoke to the man who encouraged her. He made her laugh and he told her that she needed to be trained in his world to understand real desire and the pleasure that his pain could give her. She played with him, thinking "as long as I am not close, then I have control"; and in fact he had told her that she had control as to the time and place of any meeting or if any meeting would even occur. She saw this as a manipulation though," to give someone control you must first be in control, so he must feel in control " she thought. "I like this man, he's a challenge" and he was; he challenged her mentally and acknowledged her mind and ability. He also challenged her thinking, and often brought out her stubbornness and then acknowledged her cute little tantrum, promising to reward her with a spanking and then a hug. "Bad girls need their asses spanked, and their tears dried" he told her, and she was bad and he knew it.

All he wanted in his life was the one true submissive that he had know and loved and had left; always planning to return. She had been raised to be his, it was her destiny and when it had been fulfilled she had found total happiness and submitted herself to him willingly. He had slipped the collar around her neck and had placed the mark upon her hip as a sign that she was forever bound to him and each knew that space didn't strain that collar nor distance that love. She left a marriage of twenty years to a man who could not control her only use her physically while tormenting her emotionally. His one regret in life was that he had not found her sooner, before years of loveless relationships had produced her children and a marriage that was in fact a sham.

That was his world when Kay entered his life. In her he saw the same woman; still alive but making all those same mistakes that had taken their toll on his lost love. In some respects he thought the Gods had seen fit to grant him his wish, but in another respect he realized to consider her would mean giving up on his dream to return. His conundrum. He also saw the manipulation, but it wasn't the first time he had been tested. Just as she tested his resolve and strength, he had been tested by his first love. There was that fallacy that to love was to be weak or to be weakened, but he knew and she would know that his love like her submission was a gift and that to abuse such a gift was to destroy it. He made no promise other than to be there when her world and its realities sunk in.

He gave her an option and an out. He would be everything she desired, and provide the control she sought, the pain and the pleasure she wanted, without the fear of abandonment. She would surrender herself to him and no other. There were two stipulations to his offer; first that to stray from him would end it and second to lie would end it. Fidelity and honesty would be their pact. So it was that he made his decision.

When they met, she knew he was what he said he was. It was in his eyes, in his voice and in his every movement. She realized in that first moment that he could break her, he could be more devastating to her than any other man had been and yet she knew that she was also safe with him. He greeted her, and took her hand; she felt his strength as he pulled her to him. Without hesitation he put his hand in her hair and pulled her mouth to his. She tried to resist for just a second, but he pulled her hair just enough to make her want to stop resisting and so it began, their relationship and her training.

He undressed her and slipped the collar around her neck; it wasn't what she expected. It was an ornate black leather collar, broad (a posture collar she would later learn) with several small metal chains and an "O" ring. This was her only garment for the first month when they were alone. She was at first a bit ashamed, though she appreciated her body and its beauty she had always kept it covered around the men in her life until they desired her to service them. He wasn't like them though, he desired her totally and continuously and wanted her ready when he was. The other thing that was different about him was the attention he paid to every inch of her. Sometimes he would pull her to him and just touch her in ways that made her at once wet and desirous. He would approach her from behind while he was fully clothed and wrap his arms around her sliding one hand over her hip and down towards her wetness, while the other cupped her breast and sought out her nipple. He would pull her back into him and bring his mouth down to her neck and gently bite down establishing control and then with his wetted finger he would rub her clit just as she had when she was small. Not since that time, at her own hand had anyone paid that much attention and taken that kind of time to bring about orgasm after orgasm and with each she was aware of his teeth and the gentle pain he was giving her.

In that first month she found that her pleasure was the result of his control and that the more pleasure she experienced the more control he had. Then there was the pain, related to her own obstinate behavior, her testing. She believed that if he loved her then he would just agree with her and do as she pleased; she was wrong. In a battle of wills she lost, time and time again until she wanted to lose just for its rewards. When she was bad as she often was he would take her to the Whipping Post. It was a round rough 4 inch timber pole that was affixed to the floor and ceiling. It had large hooks and rings the length of it. At its base, there were two rings in the floor about three and a half feet apart. When she was bad he would put cuffs on her wrist (sometimes metal or the ones that she liked which were made of a soft leather that didn't chafe her wrists) and affix them to a hook above her head. He would spread her legs and anchor her cuffed ankles to the rings on the floor and then depart. She had learned to expect her punishment would be either a lashing or flogging that would sensitize every nerve on her back and ass. At first she cried out as if to make him stop because it stung, but he knew that this was not the safe-word or signal that they had agreed upon and that to stop was just a signal that he could be manipulated. The punishments were never prolonged and never left a lasting mark; what they did do is excite her and make her wet with anticipation as to what was to come.

He would remove his clothes and walk up to her trembling body and place his cool hands on her reddened flesh, out of reflex she would recoil. He would then reach around and apply the clover clamps to her erect nipples and attach the chain to a smaller hook just below her breast with just enough tension to make the clamps tighter. She would wince but in defiance never cry out. She was in a contest with him and was determined never to show him her pain, though he knew she felt it. He would then reach into his "toy box" and determine what device to use in play. He had many and most were enjoyable, she knew that this was her reward for not weakening. Once chosen he would set it to the side. She felt the heat from his body behind her as both his hands explored her body. She loved his hands and what they would do to her, for her. He was never hesitant, but always deliberate in his moves as he rubbed and probed her, He always waited for her first orgasm and would share her sex between them. He loved the taste of her, but even more when she was bleeding. Her blood was like a feast for him and when he could feed on her in bed she knew she was pleasing him in beyond all his expectations. On the whipping post it was different; he would use her cum to lubricate her rectum and there was always lots of her cum for he would work one orgasm into two and two into three and as her body reacted he'd take the toy and slide it into her and push a button and at once there was a vibration or a throbbing or some other pleasant sensation that kept her juices flowing. As he held the vibrator in place he brought his other hand up between her legs to harvest her cum and continued to lavish her tight little rectum with it gently rubbing and probing.

While she was enjoying all of the sensations he took his hand away almost unnoticed and she heard the "whoosh" of the bottle of "Wet" as he drizzled it on his stiffened cock. He separated the cheeks of her ass and as the vibrator took her farther into space, pushed the head of his lubricated cock against her. As if a conditioned response had been created she pushed herself against him until he penetrated her and was deep inside. She felt the vibration of the toy as it bounced of his cock making it even larger. She had had anal sex before and on some occasions it was even pleasurable, but never like this. She continued to have orgasms and felt the pressure grow as his cock swelled with its trapped cum. He kept her on the edge, awaiting his release and when she could hold back no longer she cried out and came one final time just as he did. She no longer felt the welts on her back of the sting from there seat as it was absorbed into her reddened skin. She felt nothing but his hands as he let the vibrator fall to the floor. Her body jerked uncontrollably as every nerve felt every sensation. She was oblivious to time and space; it didn't matter. She barely felt his hands, as they slid up her sides towards the clamps, and then there was the release and the sudden rush of blood back to those starved nerves. Her eyes widened and then closed again as he held her.

He removed the cuffs and led her to the bed and its cool sheets. He laid down beside her, placing his hand on her stomach. You are a very good girl and you make me very happy. With her eyes closed she took in his words and a smile came to her lips. He brought his mouth to hers kissed her, then she felt his mouth on her nipples as he sucked them and kissed them. His mouth made its ritualistic journey down her body, tasting her in various places as it went. When he reached his final destination he brought his lips to that protruding swollen flesh that was so often ignored, but which had just been aroused beyond all comprehension and began to kiss it and then drew it into his mouth. She sighed as his tongue parted her and he began to drink the fruit of his labor. He licked at her until she was once again aroused and was unable to resist cumming yet again, he heard her whimper and felt her body tense and then go limp. He sucked as much of her cum as she was able to give into his mouth and then brought it to her. As he kissed her this time he released it into her mouth and her own taste brought as smile to her mentally. This is love she last.

Life continued like this for almost two years. She was his and he was not weak and everyday there was something new to experience. There was no end to the new ways he would take her. And there were always new and enjoyable punishments. Within three months he had begun binding her. He used a 3/8ths inch nylon cord and bound her in the oriental way known as Nawa Shibari. She liked the way the rope made her feel whether she was bound to the post or suspended off the ground. It was as if she was being caressed, sometimes gently as when he bound her and she wore the ropes under her clothing while they were out; at other times there was pain as when he tied her with hands and feet bound behind her back and to her hair.

He was like a sculptor with rope. She was his Galatea and he her Pygmalion. She was brought to life by him and lived within the confines of his ropes. There was nothing that he wouldn't do and there was no pleasure she would not surrender to him. The love he had lost had been reborn and she was wrapped in his nylon rope. This was a dream and they were both experiencing/sharing it. But as with all dreams there is an awakening .

She was at the market one day, gathering fruits and foods both for meals and for play. She was leaning over cantaloupes (his favorite for the nectar mixed so well with her own) when she heard an old familiar voice, "Its been a long time, have you missed me?" She turned to see her former lover. He stood there in a tee-shirt and Levi’s no different than when she had last seen him. Her face flushed. "Not really, I've been well... uhhh busy. You hurt me, but I've recovered." she said defiantly. "Oh really, I'm sorry. I was confused and you wanted a commitment and I couldn't commit. That was then, I've grown since then" he said. "Have you really?" she asked (never believing a word). "Yes and the one thing I have regretted on a daily basis was losing you." There was a note of sincerity in his voice, maybe he was sorry, but she was now committed to another. "I appreciate your apology, but I must be going. I'm expected home" she told him but her heart was pounding like a trapped animal and he could sense her fear. Yeah I heard you were with some older guy, what is he , like a sugar daddy to you?" He was once again being cruel and as if time had stood still she stood there taking it. "No he loves me, and I love him!" she shot back defiantly. "Ah you love him and he has turned you into his toy, and you can't even see how ridiculous you look." His cruelty had hit new heights. "You were mine, long before you were his and you know you belong with me, to me.", he held her in place and she lowered her eyes. "He has given me what you never did, not only love, but his devotion and has kept me in a way that you never could, now leave me alone. I have to get home". As she shook herself free, and got past him, he said "You can walk away, but you can't get away from who you are." She drove her cart to the door leaving him behind. "I am not his anymore and I know that!" she thought as she checked out.

She pushed her cart to her car on the side of the building; the lot was almost empty and the glaring overhead lights in the parking lot gave it an eerie feel. She had just shut the trunk of the car when she felt his hand on her arm. She spun around just as he brought her other hand to her mouth. He pushed her around to the other side of the car as she struggled to no avail. He told her not to scream, that screaming would only make it worse. She wanted to fight, she really did but feared what would happen if she did. She heard his zipper as it came down ; he pulled up her dress and saw the ropes. "Cute, so he's one of those freaks huh, well I know how to handle ropes" and with that he drew a knife from his pocket and cut the rope as it dropped down between her legs. He pushed her down over the fender and without a second thought shoved his cock into her pussy. What occurred in the next few minutes was almost brutal but she felt herself responding to him. She had become wet and as he pounded himself in and out of her she became aroused as if she had no control over what was happening. She felt herself slipping into that whirlpool again as her arousal grew uncontrollable. She came and cried out as he came just after her. He fell on top of her for a second panting. He lifted himself up and backed away, "Don't pretend for a moment that was rape. I saw it in your eyes in the store and heard it as you came; you wanted it as much as I did!", he hissed at her.

But she hadn't, she didn't, she didn't know what to do so she just turned away and ran to the drivers door. She sat in the car sobbing, she could feel the cut rope laying loosely on her lap and the wetness of his...their cum as it flowed from her onto her dress. She sobbed behind the wheel, until she convinced herself to go home. When she got there the lights were on in every room. She opened the door and tried to enter unheard, but he did hear her. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "You were beginning to worry me." She turned and ran to him and dropped to her knees; "Sir I was attacked in the parking lot! I tried to fight but he had a knife and he cut your ropes and took me over the car. I got away as soon as he let me up" she told him. She could see the hurt in his eyes and then the anger. “Who was it, I want to know!" he demanded. She thought about lying, but she knew he would see it in her face so she blurted out the name. "The fucking bastard is going to pay for this" he said as he swept past her and out the door. She sat there on the floor for a long time sobbing and then went into the bathroom and took off the cum stained dress, she tossed it into a trash bin and removed the remnants of her rope harness.

The shower felt good and hot, she took the loofa and scrubbed her body until she thought she would bleed. "Forgive me father for I have sinned" kept running through her mind; a residual from her Catholic upbringing. "But I didn't sin, I didn't want this, he forced me.." she argued with herself, but then she heard herself say "But I came".

She slipped into the silk robe by the door and waited for what must have been hours before she heard his car and saw the headlights. He walked past her to the sink and began to wash the blood from his hands, "That fucker has raped his last victim" he said in a voice that was angry and frightening. "What did you do" she cried, "You didn't kill him did you?". she was in a state of shock and panic. "I have no idea whether he is dead or alive, though I would assume he'd rather be dead." "hat do you mean" she pushed. "Well if you really want to know I found him at a bar and he was drinking and bragging about banging an old girlfriend. I sat next to him and listened as he talked about how she "always did like it rough". I bought him a couple of stiff drinks and waited until he was too drunk to drive and then offered him a lift home. Of course he was grateful and staggered out to the car. He didn't even realize it was the same car he had raped you on; he just got in the passenger side and we drove off. It was about a half hour into the drive that he realized we weren't headed in his direction and asked where we were. I told him I had to take care of something and got out. He didn't know what or who hit him when I opened the door. He was out cold by the time he hit the ground. I disrobed him as he laid there and applied the same harness I had applied to you, but in his case his hands were bound behind his back. "

"I waited until he woke up, you should have seen him it was a cross between disbelief and reality crashing in on him. He demanded to be set free, he called me an old pervert and several other unimaginative names and then he saw his knife in my hands. He immediately changed his tune and began begging and whimpering. I knelt next to him and told him to be a man, that he had experienced pleasure by his own standard and would experience pain by mine. I told him who I was and he went ashen; he pleaded and tried to reason with me saying "going to prison over a piece of ass wasn't worth it". Unfortunately I wasn't impressed with his argument. Then he told me that it wasn't rape, that you wanted it; that you had cum. Well that was the wrong thing to say, and I let him know that you would never betray me or your word, with that I severed his balls and cock from his torso and placed the ropes in-between his legs. I left him tied to a wooden post in an old cemetery. He was alive when I last saw him, but I can't say what his condition is now.", he finished his story and turned to her. "He had balls, I'll give him that" he said then chuckled to himself as he threw the bloody baggy on the table. He looked her as she stared at the mess on the table with her mouth agape. "Now tell me, did you cum?" he asked. She looked into his eyes and without a moments hesitation said "No Sir, I was raped." "I knew it", he said , "The gall of that bastard trying to put this on you", she dropped her eyes and said "yes Sir, he had balls didn't he" and they both chuckled. That night she looked down on him as he slept, "This is love", she thought.

Posted at 09:42 am 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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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 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


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
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
The New Year's Party

Nocturnal Events
Nocturnal Emissions
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
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
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
BDSM Website Security
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
My Toy
Daddy's Girl
Chocolate and Roses
Special Delivery
Waiting II
Edge Play
This Flesh
Not Watching
Tango 2
Inside of You
Mentally bound
His Flower
Her Grief

Poetry of a sort
(very little rhymes)

Faded Words on Yellowing Paper
I Was
submissive position

Ladies of the Night

Bedtime Stories
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)


(They May Spank You For Viewing)

Married Man's Fucktoy
Now Tease Me
Incubus Dreams
Peep Show Stories
Annie's Spanking Good Blog
Vue du dedans
Dee Reawakening
Polyfetishist Directory
The Abyss
Mostly Appropriate
Shadow Of A Soul
Liz Vicious Fan Site
La Libertine's Salon
T of Reknin Day
Siren's Song
The Ties That Bind
Mistress Matisse's Journal
3xL : Lust, Love & Latex
Sensual Liberation Army
News For Perverts
The Spanking Blog
Art Of Love
Spanking Art
Pillow Book

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