Snow Not-So-White

Um ... when I asked for a bedtime story, Daddy, that's not exactly what I had in mind...

Although... now that I think about it... 

A younger woman enters the picture, Daddy takes an interest in her and the new wife gets jealous... So the girl is sent into the woods to escape her wrath.  She stumbles along the home of seven strong determined men who allow her to remain with them as long as she cooks, cleans, and obeys their restrictions..  But one day, Snow White disobeys, the way that curious little girls tend to do.  The Men push her severely!  She is placed in a small glass box and put on display so everyone can see what a naughty girl she has been.   Eventually the right Man for her comes along and takes her home with Him, to serve Him and His kingdom... 

Hmm maybe Snow White wasn't so innocent after all! 

Cock Worship

As I’m lost between your lips, I want you to lose yourself. With each inch that you take, I want a little more of you to slip away, a little more of everything else, everything around us, to fade and disappear. As you engulf me, I want that sensation, that slow filling of you, to engulf all else. 


 Think of it like hypnosis, where each little increment, every slight piece that grows and builds, makes all else fall away to make room. I want you to fall into a trance, with only the one thing on your mind. 


Forget about me. Forget about you. Forget about us. 


 Forget about the laundry in the hamper, that prick and work who keeps ogling you when he walks past, and how you really don’t know why Lana Del Ray is such a big thing. 


Forget about whether that crumpet you had this afternoon was a contravention of your diet plan, or if I’m wondering whether it’s maybe been a day too many since you last shaved your legs. 


 Empty. 


 Your. 


 Mind. 


 And think about what’s between your lips. Obsess over it. Savour it. Let it take over your mind as you take it over with your mouth. Study it. Examine it with your tongue, with your lips, and, if you’re feeling particularly brave, with your teeth. Trace your hands around the base like an palaeontologist uncovering a bone. Delicate and thorough. 


 Make it your life’s work, and don’t allow anything else into your life. At least for the moments between when you take me into your mouth, and when you finally release me. In those moments, it’s just you and me. That very specific, very hard, very swollen and throbbing part of me. 


 Worship.

- Brilliantly written by My Trousers Rolled, on tumblr.

Making Salad

I've never been one to have food fantasies before... but something about this story... *blush* 

Dinah peeked around the corner to get a better look.  There He was, working at the salad prep counter.  She muttered under her breath, He hates that station!  For a split second, she reconsiders her agenda but the pulsing ache within tells her this is the best time!  He will be in a fowl mood anyway for being stuck there, she might as well do something to deserve His temper.  

She eases to a kneel and slinks across the busy kitchen on all fours, huntress's prowl to her movements, hungry gaze locked to her target.  She lowers lips to His feet in a meek fashion, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable to Him as the slut pulls to a wide kneel.  At first He jumps, mutters a curse word, then points for her to climb under the table.  Dinah positions herself in a manner she knows pleases Him, using her body language to communicate her desires, mouth opened wide as the whore whimpers like a bitch in heat...pleading with her body for His cock.  V steps closer to the table and unzips his fly, the eager girl swallows Him in a mouthful in her desperation for a taste of Him.  V continues to slice vegetables, the harsh sound of the knife smacking the prep table drowned out the sounds of the sluts slurps and whimpers otherwise muffled by His cock. 

After a few blissful minutes of worshipping His arousal, His hand slips below to grasp her by long dark hair!  He drags her to her feet roughly, unceremoniously shoves her over the counter, sending a spray of salad mixture to the floor.  With a grunt He lays claim to what is His, Dinah moans loudly into part of a head of lettuce as He takes her flesh for His pleasure.  Lost in the glorious feeling of His ownership, she jumps at the cold tip probing her ass.  His chuckle strokes fires within, "Carrots are good for you whore, open up."  Face burns crimson as the medium sized carrot forces its entry of her dark star.  Her cries become louder, being filled with the Man that owns her, she groans feeling His release deep in her womb.  Her hips rock wantonly against Him, she whimpers as He withdraws... yet yelps at the harsh replacement of His body with a large cucumber.  Dinah is speechless when he turns her to face Him.  V kisses her cheek, "Enjoy your salad, slut, I'll be home shortly."  Master's laughter echoes in her ears as Dinah stomps out of the restaurant, and returns home to wait for Him.

Always Time for Coffee

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.

When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was. The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes". The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things -- your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions -- things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else -- the small stuff". "If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18 holes. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand".

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked," he said. "It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a cup of coffee with a friend."

So... anyone for drinks? ;)

Steamy Confession

Dear Diary,

It happened again! This time it was so much more intense... the first strike against my flesh almost brought tears to my eyes, yet as the blows rained down onto my body, the masochist within awakened... her voice overriding my own... The warmth soaked within to ignited scorching lava to course through my veins. Searing bites roused rosy splotches to pale canvas, fire was set to my body, heat within matching the fierceness of the attack. Turning this way and that, nothing was safe ~ my ass, breasts, thighs, back, and arms were unable to escape each strike! Painslut rears her head, muffled cries of surrender drown out by the echo of each hit, fingers curl around the bar as knees go weak, unable to control the lewd responses of my own body...

I can't think.

I can't breathe.

I hate this!

I love this!

I feel humiliated!

I feel like ‘myself’ again.

I feel so embarrassed!

I feel so alive!

Yet I hear the alarm, indicating that my time is growing short... with a shaky breath, I turn around slowly, savoring the last of this harsh pleasure... and turn the water temperature down just a little bit so that I can finish my shower and make it to work.

I have just become a morning person.

~elana

I’m not sure what exactly is causing this response... I have heard from others that fibromyalgia makes one’s body hyper-sensitive, in all ways, not just with the pain. By my own choice, I have not taken an intimate Partner since I have began truly dealing with the fibromyalgia/lupus. I am working on accepting this ‘new person’ as me, with my new limitations and whatnot. However, I have heard that pleasure is also intensified by this condition... I have heard that women who were once ‘cold’ in the bedroom have become multi-orgasmic, those numb to sensations are now easily aroused. All I know is that lately... my favorite time of the day is beneath the hot water of the spray jet in the shower, it is as if my entire world not only stops but shrinks down... so there is nothing but the extreme sensations taking over my body.

So we shall see... someday.

Searching

From the Journal of FirmPossession, shared with His permission.

You need it like oxygen. You’re drawn to it, you dream of it, you want it like nothing else. The only freedom you know is through pain, the only release through denial, the only safety in the confines of my will.

I know you, probably better than you know yourself. I know how you work. I know how to get what I want from you.

I keep your thoughts on a short leash, your heart as wide open as your legs—exposed and vulnerable, no place to hide, the exhilaration and fear and shame flowing through your body like electricity, giving your stomach butterflies; forever on the verge of some great, disastrous fall into madness. But this is my gift, my reason and my joy, that I would strip you down to this elemental state, naked but for the chains of my authority; the heaviness of my words like the fear of God shaking you from within.

This is what I do; not just because I can, but because I enjoy it. This is the essence of life—the cleansing of pain, the comfort of defeat, the validation of love and shelter, wrapped tight into the minutia of braided leather and ritual, of teeth-marks and sweat and bruises. This is my art, and your body, my canvas. You will be my child sufferer, my muse, my filthy whore and Aphrodite, all rolled into one.

This is the honor I wish to give you—to allow you to serve me, to let you to flourish and grow under my command, to give you the pain that you desperately crave and so richly deserve.

But first, I want to hear you say please.

~*~

Also from the Journal of FirmPossession, shared with His permission.

There are moments when it comes back to me—the hunger, the need. It becomes real again, not some hypothetical set of principles, but a gnawing emptiness, active and visceral; more familiar than any memory, more natural than any pretense of self-sufficiency. It’s easy to embrace numbness sometimes, to let it swallow and consume you. It’s a simple matter of falling into compliance—to dull your mind with alcohol and cynicism, to forget the steps behind you and ignore the path ahead. But there are brief moments when it all comes flooding back, when I remember living on the precarious edge, holding her vulnerability wrapped up in my arms; her sweet, hot innocence, radiating only for me—so willing to open herself up for me, to take the warmth with the pain, to beg for the pleasure of feeling my strength over her thoughts. I’m not dead inside yet—I still know the meaning of surrender, I still taste it on my lips; faded, but thick with memory. And I still know the road by heart, all the right words and every soft touch, all the knotted ropes that keep love bound with pain. That’s a part of me I could never abandon, regardless of the steady atrophy that seems to come with loneliness. But the fields are in drought, the ground dry and cracked with neglect. I’m low on supplies and short on time, so I’m shoring up my strength for another day. I’m biding my time, and waiting for someone to wake me up again.

~*~

And all I can say is... wow.

The Final Inspection

The Final Inspection

The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass,
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?"

The soldier squared his shoulders and
said, "No, Lord, I guess I ain't,
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough,
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills got just too steep,

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear,
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here,
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand,
I've never expected, or had much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."

There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod,
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well,
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell.

Author Unknown

Prescription for Evil Deeds

It is not at all a fault that I am how I am. Yet, it is a flaw of the universe that I exist in. Am I wrong for longing to bring the wickedly naughty into submission of a passionate decadence? Am I wrong for firmly laying hold upon the neck of the subject and impaling her tonsils which thirst? Is it a fault if my every thought screams for flesh to be under my fingertips?

To do with as I wish, to mead into the perfect vessel filled with every evil desire. Is it prudent for me to lay heavy upon, lie up, and lay in, while laying all over, inside and releasing this glory that warms the very nerve endings through out this flesh that willingly gives itself to my evil deeds?

I am evil in deeds for each lash, the next stroke, the prying open of cavernous spaces, which beg not to be opened yet give to my continuous probing? Visions of oil leaking through and over skin so soft, so tight, so supple that marks from the crop seem out of place, bordering on wrong.

Evil me, to put this scrumptious flesh through so much pain for evil me, so much pleasure for evil me. So much for the scrumptious flesh, for nothing comes before my evil needs. If not this flesh then it shall be another, but none that has been known is as ripe, none is as fresh, none squeezes and holds tightly sending rivers of waves through the essence of man as this flesh has.

Evil me shall not relinquish this flesh to another, as it sucks, swallows, devours each inch into itself. Ever harder, ever faster, the flesh rages and moans, bucking wildly back and forth. Roaring, lasciviously withdrawing the power from evil me with each stroke, each thrust, each bead of sweat and oil that trails down the arched back towards the shoulders.

Evil flesh quivers as it is pushed and pulled and made to do my bidding. Flesh spread wide so wide, hands slippery as the sound and smell fill the air. Euphorically evil, strenuously intense my evil essence seemingly ready to leave my body and enter into this flesh, this deep dark orifice. I have been seduced, yet I was the seducer. It was not her yet my own evil thoughts and deeds that are the seductress.

I have been enchanted into believing it was my bidding that was being done. Senses leaving me, my mind strains to gain control yet, her flesh will not allow it. For her flesh is pounding me, and pounding me, and pounding me. Hands groping and grabbing yet unable to control the movement, because evil me wanted the oil cascading over her body, all over her body, inside her body to make it pliable to my evil need while gleaming in the light upon each thrust.

I am my own undoing, as she leans back sweat pouring off her brow, bridle in her mouth, whilst my moans betray me. Without thought my hands reach for her throat gripping, clenching, squeezing harder and harder mad at what has transpired, my chin resting upon the back of her wet neck, yet she knows that this is the very thing will spill this seed and finish my evil deed…

Author: Daddy Treacherous

Shared with elana by pixie

I Undress for You

I Undress for You
Written by SoulSlave

It's just another evening
or just another morning
it's just another hour
and it is nothing new

clothes fall to the floor softly
bare skin is hot beneath them
the air is thick and heavy
as I undress for you

~

Unleash on me your passion
Strap me in each position
And make me feel your power
the way you always do

There's no need to be gentle
I crave your satisfaction
I long for your instruction
as I undress for you

~

There's no place you can't touch me
No way you cannot use me
I'm yours in every aspect
Just what more can I do

Your ring's upon my finger
my soul's in your possession
my body wears your collar
and bore your child for you

~

Fresh memories burn through me
your voice commands me firmly
until I screamed in ecstacy
and came the way you knew

I long for more already
with thoughts that make me giddy
drunk in anticipation
as I undress for you

~

There's noone who can take me
Noone who can fulfill me
there's noone who can fuck me
the way you can and do

I need to feel you on me
Just tell me where you want me
My body knows no boundries
As I undress for you.

~

Cum Hither

Cum Hither
Written by SlowLane

Cum hither like a snake
as I stroke you awake
your eyes open bright
as you see the the first light

The suns unforgiving as it shines of your face
The red on your skin from the marks I can trace
you awake again tied, to this same piece of earth
as I mold my new slave and witness her birth

A journey through the woods and a journey through your mind
As I mold you and shape you to be one of a kind
The one that I want, the slave of my choice
The one that comes kneeling at the sound of my voice

You open your eyes as I stand above you
and whisper one more day and then you will be through
The collar will be earned and the journey back shall start
hand in hand, step by step, together, never to part

your eyes are now bright
your ropes are still tight
you've slept through the night
and see me in a new light

The light that shall forever be bright in your heart as I lead you home.

I think the third paragraph is my favorite section, I love the erotic imagery.

Self Destruction

The Scorpion and the Frog

One day, a scorpion looked around at the mountain where he lived and decided that he wanted a change. So he set out on a journey through the forests and hills. He climbed over rocks and under vines and kept going until he reached a river.

The river was wide and swift, and the scorpion stopped to reconsider the situation. He couldn't see any way across. So he ran upriver and then checked down river, all the while thinking that he might have to turn back.

Suddenly, he saw a frog sitting in the rushes by the bank of the stream on the other side of the river. He decided to ask the frog for help getting across the stream.

"Hellooo Mr. Frog!" called the scorpion across the water, "Would you be so kind as to give me a ride on your back across the river?"

"Well now, Mr. Scorpion! How do I know that if I try to help you, you wont try to kill me?" asked the frog hesitantly.

"Because," the scorpion replied, "If I try to kill you, then I would die too, for you see I cannot swim!"

Now this seemed to make sense to the frog. But he asked, "What about when I get close to the bank? You could still try to kill me and get back to the shore!"

"This is true," agreed the scorpion, "But then I wouldn't be able to get to the other side of the river!"

"Alright then... how do I know you wont just wait till we get to the other side and THEN kill me?" said the frog.

"Ahh...," crooned the scorpion, "Because you see, once you've taken me to the other side of this river, I will be so grateful for your help, that it would hardly be fair to reward you with death, now would it?!"

So the frog agreed to take the scorpion across the river. He swam over to the bank and settled himself near the mud to pick up his passenger. The scorpion crawled onto the frog's back, his sharp claws prickling into the frog's soft hide, and the frog slid into the river. The muddy water swirled around them, but the frog stayed near the surface so the scorpion would not drown. He kicked strongly through the first half of the stream, his flippers paddling wildly against the current.

Halfway across the river, the frog suddenly felt a sharp sting in his back and, out of the corner of his eye, saw the scorpion remove his stinger from the frog's back. A deadening numbness began to creep into his limbs.

"You fool!" croaked the frog, "Now we shall both die! Why on earth did you do that?"

The scorpion shrugged, and did a little jig on the drowning frog's back. "I could not help myself. It is my nature."

Then they both sank into the muddy waters of the swiftly flowing river.

Homecoming... a story

He reached for his pocket knife. A sharp Buck folding Hunter. With one swift motion he cut away her top, actually feeling great satisfaction in destroying it, as smooth sensitive naked skin was uncovered and revealed. Tomorrow he would tell her to go to the store and purchase the same item. But today, it needed to be sacrificed off her body. He threw the shreds of the garmet to the side, marveling the beautiful naked breasts now in his sight. Quickly, he did a similar job with her shorts, cutting through her panties as well and throwing all the unneeded clothing away. He was rewarded with her utterly splayed lower region, her exposed pussy spread out inches away from his face. She was completely naked now without a single item of clothing on her.

She squirmed a little almost involuntarily. He still didn't talk to her, but used this time to grab a few pillows and adjust them beneath her back in a way that arched it and displayed her beautifully.

He stared at her that way for a short while, deriving incredible pleasure from such visual use of her. He felt very much relieved once he released his screaming cock from its constraining bulge behind his pants. He stroked it lightly, shivering from the sensation as he looked upon his beautifully sprawled out love-toy. She lifted her head at that moment, trying to figure out what was going on, and he angrily yanked her back by her long hair. He had not yet taught her that it was not her place to be curious or question or irritate him in any way at such times. It was time for her use, and nothing more. Her only duty was to willingly anticipate his every whim during that time and strive her darndest to fit to him, like his fine custom-tuned instrument. But he forgave her ignorance for now, not doubting that with time she would become nothing short of the perfect slave.

He finally placed the head of his cock at her entrance, shaking it slightly to part her soft labia. Her wetness greeted him, as she parted for his cock, completely ready for him. He hesitated a second, watching her shudder as he stroked her with it, up onto her clit, and then back downwards again to her openning. It pleased him that she was responsive and eagerly awaiting his love-making.

The human side of him wanted to warn her that this would be brutal, but the animal in him did not feel like talking. Only taking.

With one powerful thrust, he crammed his cock deep into her, enjoying her responsive gasp and he began to plummet away with force, pounding his stretched-out slave with animalistic need as he groaned and grunted out his pleasure. Each thrust into his receptacle was like a soothing balm onto his angry system and he satisfied himself immensely with his use of his slave. Within minutes he already began to feel the hot cum sirening its way out of his body and he withdrew just in time to spray her - her tits, stomach and pussy as he released his pent-up frustrations in powerfully satisfying orgasm.

This is a snippit of the story from Slave Tales.

Food for Thought

One day posted to the door was a huge notice.

'Yesterday the person who hinders your growth and the growth passed away. You are invited to join the funeral in the banquet room that has been prepared for this purpose'.

All who read the notice became sadden by the demise of one of their own, but after a time were curious to know who had hindered their growth. Security at the location was heightened for there was an overwhelming crowd.

The more people who reached the coffin the more the tension heated up, everyone thinking 'Who is this who hinders my growth? At least the person is no longer with us!'. One by one the crowd got closer to the coffin, and when each looked inside the coffin each was suddenly rendered speechless. They stood nearby quiet, shocked into silence, as if someone had touched the deepest part of their soul. Within there was a mirror, everyone who looked inside saw themselves.

Next to the mirror was a message that read:

There is only one capable to limit your growth, you and you alone. You revolutionize your life, influence your happiness, realize your success and control your feelings. You are the only one who helps yourself. Your life does not change if others change, nor if they like or dislike you, your life changes when 'you' change, when you go beyond your limiting beliefs, when you realize you are the only one responsible for your life, when you understand the most important relationship you can have is the one you have with yourself, when you accept responsibility for your own actions and do not blame others. Examine yourself, watch and do not be afraid of difficulties, impossibilities and losses, be a winner.

Urges

To say that I have been ‘horny’ lately is an understatement. Feeling His hand in my hair... fingers curling against my scalp... guiding my lips to His groin... Hot breath against His skin as the tip of His body signals my mouth to open around Him... His girth takes my breath away, causes a gag as He toys with me... The power of His hold on me, the devotion in my mouth’s worship, muffled moans and pants of need... Until His pleasure anoints my face and/or breasts...

I can’t get these images out of my mind...

out of my imagination...

It's in my blood...

I think I am going into heat....

*Authors Note: Even though I have a burning desire to serve in this manner, it doesn't mean that I am looking to do it casually or as a hook-up. Which is why I haven't called my Friend.*

Control... an anecdote

A young Dom and an Old Master were walking near a rushing river one day when the young Dom says, “I have had my little one (youngest sub) for almost 3 years and I still I can’t control her. Can you tell me what am I doing wrong Sir?”

The old Master paused for a second and said, “A sub is a lot like a rushing river; if you want the river to bend to your will you don’t stand in the middle of it trying to confront it head on… even the strongest of beings haven fallen to its influence. But, if you give the river a different path to follow and guidance along that path it will surely follow your direction.”

“But” the young Dom said bewildered “its the high walls that keep the river under control… how do I create the walls that will control my sub Sir?”

The Old Master shook his head solemnly and sighed, “ Is it the walls that got higher or did the river carve its way deeper into the path?”

The young Dom’s eyes opened wide as the old Master continued… “Let the river run along the path that you have laid and it will carve out its own prison…. the key is to control the path not the river.”

You are a ragdoll.

You are a ragdoll.

She nodded mentally. Her legs wide apart while he continued to play. His fingers continued.. gently flicking over her clit.

She knew that He had seen her obedience in her eyes. No tension in her legs as she lay. None at all. And she was not to strain a single muscle. Her disobedience would displease Him.

She was His object. His ragdoll. And He needed to play with His possession. His need was so great, it was consuming Him. The monster unleashed, and she would be His prey. Resistance would be punished. Any kind of tension, or resistance to the feeling... was not allowed and she knew it.

She only lay... He kept softly kept massaging her. Contracting her pussy from the intensity was ok. It was understandable that she would not be able to help it.

She focused not to tense her legs. Keeping them limp and completely relaxed for Him. Giving in to the feeling... completely. Entirely. She did not want to displease Him. She was completely His. She said it to herself. Repeating it in her mind, over and over. I am His. And anytime she wanted to tense her legs, she reminded herself... Whose she was. And what he wanted of her. And she did not move.

It kept building. The tension, surmounting. She knew that she had contracted intensely several times. His finger slipped inside her gently.

She was asked questions. "Where did you go today? What did you do? What did you feel?"

Each answered honestly, openly and quietly. Her clit being rubbed petted and caressed.

The interrogation continued. More questions.

The calm and softness of His voice was deceptive as he asked about her day. It was unnecessary to roar simply because she was pleasing Him very much, with her complete obedience. He liked the way she was responding. Giving in.

She answered, like a slave.

Completely His.

Her legs were widened. She did not resist. Her clit was swollen and open completely for His play.

It did not matter.

He kept playing with her.

She kept herself relaxed.

He rubbed it. Touched it. Teased it. "You are to cum, when you feel the need," He finally informed her softly.

"I FEEL IT!! NOW!!!!!"

She screamed as she shook, coming for Him.

Long.. endless... complete... guttural screams.

She had pleased Him very much. He liked the way her legs had sprung to life and clenched Him. The way her nails had dug into His skin. He liked the way she had orgasmed intensely.

He was satisfied.

Everything... was His.

Written by SoulSlave.