At the tea party, during the rounds of trading places, Alice finds herself
bewildered and befuddled, and many other sorts of “be” ending in
confusion. The flurry of motion and Alice tripped, landing against the Mad
Hatter. She looked up at him in the moment before he sat back down,
passing out scones, tea, and other nibblets.
Seeing that the Hatter, mad as he was, was possibly the most sane
individual (not to mention the most human) Alice found herself oddly
comforted and climbed up into the Hatter’s lap.
“Why hello there. When did I become a chair?”
“Oh, you’re not really a chair, but….” Alice started, cut off by the
clatter of cups and saucers as the March Hare and Dormouse fussed about
their tea sets. Her big blue eyes stared up at the wild eyed Hatter.
“Oh, well, I do have a place for you to sit. I suppose….but….” the
Hatter stopped, and shouted “CHANGE PLACES!” getting up swiftly, carrying
Alice around to the next place, scrambling over the table and plopping
down in the next chair.
“Oh!” Alice said, flustered. “Is it always this crazy?”
“Crazy? Crazy!? Hardly, little boy.”
“But, I’m not a little boy…”
“Are you now?” the Hatter looked at the small girl on his lap as if
pondering a profound truth. “I suppose we can see about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean what do I mean? I’m mad, not mean, little boy,” the
Hatter scoffed, pulling Alice’s dress up a little bit. Sipping tea with
one hand, his other sliding up and down her thigh.
Alice, shocked by the Hatter’s touch, turned red. She was innocent enough
to not realize the Hatter’s intention, but she was old enough to know that
something was out of sorts. The knowledge, if not the realization caused
her stomach to stir and make her squirm on the Hatter’s lap.
“Mr. Hatter?”
“Yes?” The March Hare spoke up, sloshing tea around onto the table, to
which the Hatter threw a hot buttered scone squarely at the furred head of
the disheveled Hare.
“Hmm, it’s raining,” the Hare pondered, pouring tea for the Mouse.
The Hatter looked down at Alice again, his hand slipping up higher under
her skirt. “Here, have some more tea? It is almost after-thimbus.”
Alice gasped as the Hatter’s touch. She could even feel something stir
under her. Wonderland was full of sensations and people she had never felt
before, but there was something strange and real about the Hatter’s
growing girth under her youthful rear.
Moments later, as the March Hare and Dormouse, lost themselves in
reflective puddles of tea and shards of porcelain, the Mad Hatter explored
under Alice’s skirt with the deftness of a hand used to moving about
fabric, the other preoccupied with pouring and drinking tea. Alice herself
was lost in a heady sensation, never been touched before, assaulted on all
senses, even reason at the Hatter’s fingers and thick outline of his
shaft.
Heady, lost in the moment as she was in Wonderland itself, Alice started
to press back against the Hatter’s lap. The rigidity gave her something to
push against as the Hatter’s hand kept exploring her under-skirts.
The sensation sent a bolt up her spine, causing a short gasp to escape her
lips. That gasp caused a small cessation in the clattering tea party. It
only lasted for a moment, before the chaos resumed, causing the Mad Hatter
to look down at Alice. “So, how is a raven like a riding desk?”
“I…don’t….” Alice said, gasping, “Know. Mr. Hatter. Ohhh…”
“Me neither,” the Hatter grinned, pushing his hips up a little to meet
Alice’s fevered grinding. The hand under her skirt on her hip to guide her
along the length of his shaft, rubbing against her firmly.
Soon after, the Hatter was pushed beyond his limit, causing him to hold
Alice’s backside to him, wedging himself up against the creases of her
skirt. His orgasm filled his pants suddenly, the change in sensation
causing Alice to collapse from her first orgasm as well, the small
convulsions shaking her body uncontrollably.
I have this problem. I’m a prepare for the worst and hope for the best kind of girl. It’s just how I was raised. I know Babykat and Ume love me. I can feel it. I know Jak wouldn’t marry a girl he couldn’t stand. I know these things.
But, when I feel alone, my second stepdad’s words creep in and i start to feel the same fear he’d place in me. I start to feel fourteen again unsure of myself and wanting validation. I used to pray.
“Oh, wise and mighty Bast, make these things NOT true. Give me to will to go on and make them eat every unkind thing they’ve ever said.” and she did.
I printed out the nicest comments from my Blog’s guest book. I kept them by my bed. Until Stepdad2 found them and burned them as a “pack of lies”
I printed them out again, this time, i carried them in my bag in the secret back zipper pocket.
It feels good to have reminders. Today, I am better and stronger and mostly over it.
Ume has been a constant wellspring of support. I don’t doubt him, I take everything he says as truth. After all he really has no reason to lie to me. Really.
He loves my nerdity and my geekgasm and girly wood moments as much as he loves my screaming in orgasm moments. As I’ve said with him I’m a pretty whole.
I accept that. Even if that little stepdad2 voice kicks in.
A submissive, (me or you) can not truly be a good submissive unless they give themselves totally. This means two things (to me) examining why you want to be this person submissive in the first place. And accepting who you are, and be willing to ask your Master’s help and support in self improvement. Remember you have to want to improve for you, not your Owner.
So. If you’re thinking of paring up you should really be able to answer these questions. Feel free to use mine as guidepost not a guideline!
1. Why do I want to belong to Ume?
Simply put, He’s Ume. My Ume now that I’ve met him, i can’t imagine my life without him. I want to be his because he is kind and generous. He’s VERY Patient with me and always speaks in a loving tone. Even if i’ve made him mad or sad. I want to give him my rarest love, the thing which is growing inside my heart. I want to try to my very best not from a spiteful place anymore but, to make him proud of me. He sees me as Lola first. He respects me as a Dominant and sees me as a partner, who happens to be submissive to him.
I know he’ll nurture me. He won’t deprive me of anything, he likes me as I am. I like him as him. Plus he encourages the geekgasms in me.
I don’t have to hide anything, ever. That is why I wish to belong to Ume.
2. Things I accept about me.
I am a great and rare beast. I have a loving heart and a wicked mind. I’m a big breasted geek girl capable of some pretty big Codex (The Guild) moments, but I want help in being better at managing them. They are usually groundless fears because I’m getting to a place where I’m giving my heart, that’s scary. (I bet deep down, Ume’s scared just a bit.)
I have acknowledged it’s past trauma but its PAST. I am letting it go. Ume has done Nothing but support my tantrum-y little ass. I love him for that.
HNT Courtesy of Margaret at They Belong to Us
Welcome to e[lust] - your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether youíre looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, youíre going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #10? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the siteís sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
~ This Weekís Top Three Posts ~
Start Without Me – Itís for when one of us is too tired, or not in the mood, or out of town, or the other of us is too horny to wait. But now, here, right in front of me, youíre touching yourself, playing yourself, and it is the fucking hottest thing Iíve ever seen.
Wicked Tongues - There are so many different ways that a mouth can connect themselves with my cunt. And so many partners, each with their own way of connecting with me.
“Vanilla” Bigotry – I effectively retired my personal usage of the word ìvanillaî when one of these sick fucks told me that he hated that term. He said it was condescending, and the implication that kinky people have any idea what goes on in other peopleís bedrooms just because they arenít fucking around in a dungeon was ridiculous.
~ e[lust] Editress ~
Audible – More hushed giggles, more kissing sounds. A gasp followed immediately by a quiet, restrained moan. I had to make up the images in my head, try to picture what caused that gasp, whoís mouth was on what body part. Or was it even a mouth?
~ Featured Post (Lillyís Pick) ~
Swing Shift Volume 33- We’re “Sexually Festive!” – What I do know is that I love Veronica now more than ever, that we choose our extra-marital partners with care and respect, and never fail to remember that our primary relationship is the most important one. If weíre considered sluts or promiscuous by others, so what?
See also: Pleasurists #66 and #67 for all your sex toy review needs.
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the ìread moreÖî tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!
Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor
Babeland Store Dream
Spend an Evening with Madison Young and Help Support the Arts
Partner rape, cryptids, and other crazy myths
Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
Anal Sex for Beginners
Choosing the right partner in poly relationships
Controlling or Petty?
Dating and Fucking
In response to: Gang Bang Curiosity
Intoxicative Healing
Reflection
Status Uterus Orgasmus
Therapy – Two Years
The Lost Art of the Hand Job
Time and Punishment: Some dynamics of male chastity in marriage
We Don’t Need No Education?
You Make My Tummy Funny
Kink & Fetish
Another Friday Story Time
BDSM — Abuse and Consent
Creating Space in Kink
Discovered
Ferocity
I am in trouble
Method: Episode Two
Nightly Spanking
Orgasm Control
Sex And Sadness
The Hands of a Goddess
The Day…
Wake-up call
What About the Children
Erotic Writing
Art Wednesday
Are You Watching Me? (3rd and Final Part)
An Afternoon Delight
Back To My Old Tricks
Climax At Midnight #6
controlling the beast
Group Post: “The Day….”
Harmony
Local
No Sex: Need Sleep
Pack It Up…Pack It In
Performance
Solo Session with B
Slam
The Good Kind of Wake-up Call
That Kind Of Girl…Who Gets Off In A Crowded Bar
The Hammer
The Threesome
The Golden Goddess
The Stranger
The realest thing
Wicked Wednesday: Date Night
March 9th, 2010 in
Digests & HNT | tags:
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Weekends are hard, this weekend is especially hard. Jak was at work all day. Babykat was off touring a University and even though she was mobile, I still missed her. I felt lonely with out her. She’s my ray of sunshine. It felt weird without her kisses.
I was cranky all damn day.
Even Pritkin was gone on some yearly geek pilgrimage! I was cleaning up my chat logs I deleted all the badness. That of course lead to reading, and the urge to call and cry maybe, yell, ask why? He’s my friend now, and I needed to talk to someone.
Ume is usually gone on the weekend, I like to pretend he’s off on quests. Like this weekend, he’s looking for Madame de Pompadour’s hair combs! The Jade ones imported from China. My lovers not being around gave me time to pontificate.
I shouldn’t ever be allowed to do that.
I feel left out. I’m not a submissive, and I’m not a Dominant. I’m both. This makes me not fit in anywhere. I can’t hang with Doms, they can’t understand how I can “lower” myself. Ume is the only one who treats me as an equal when it’s applicable. He understandsI’m his and Babykat is mine. That’s why I love him, er well I’m starting to.
And well, the subs don’t have that sisterhood vibe with me. A few are quite uppity and are quite rude to me. They never see me as one of them,i’m NOT one of them. My seven years in BDSM I’ve had 4 meaningful relationships. Never as an “out” switch. Those partners knew me as one or the other. Two actively squelched the “side” they didn’t like. Like the way my mother used to tell me never to tell people I didn’t know where my dad was. It only reinforced I was broken.
My Ume and Babykat are the only ones besides Jak to not look at me and see beautiful pieces but, a pretty whole. I had an epiphany, once I suss it out in my Tantrum Report I’ll talk more about it.
More tomorrow.
The Beginning
I’m the type of girl who gets bored easily. If I let myself get too bored I get up to no good. I do “naughty” things out of sheer lack of something better to do. I’ve always been bad, my mother said so.
Summer has always bored me to tears, expect for that summer where I lived in London. But, that’s a story for later, if you’d like.
“Have fun, Be nude, Earn money” That was all the ad said. I assumed that it was a porn site looking for models. I was wrong, so very wrong.
The ad was placed by an art gallery which catered to a very specialized art crowd. It shocked me at first, but after running my own porn site this was nothing. I thought.
“Ms. Batling” said my very striking interviewer. “You have a very impressive background. Nude modeling and phone sex?” Her green eyes inspected me looking me over, I could see hunger in her eyes. But, what was she hungry for?
“Thanks, I try never to be bored but my true passion is writing.” I said smiling at her.
“Oh, I know. I have read your work, it’s policy to Google search all applicants.” She said with a smirk. I laughed nervously wondering what else the search had yielded.
“We here like to provide our clients with upscale entertainment.” She said still watching me. I braced myself for impact.
“We think you’ll really fit in. Would you like to start today?”
Another shock, I was hired. They wanted me to work here.
“Sure,” I said.
The woman who was now my boss I supposed had introduced herself as Saea Angel. I guessed it wasn’t her name but, it was pretty like her. She told me she had been given the gallery by her father. Strange family business, but who was I to judge?
“I’ll be giving you orientation.” Miss Angel said getting up from here desk. I followed behind her. Past the “Media Wing” and into the private members only section “The Rogues Gallery” I was told it was like a peep show.
What I saw before me was no peep show. It was like a museum exhibit of dioramas of the greatest sex scenes. There was a girl dressed as Marie Antoinette off to my left. My eyes where glued to the scene not the sex, the background, it was so opulent.
I wondered what my booth would be like. As if reading my mind Miss Angel stopped three cases ahead of me.
“Lola, here’s your fantasy.” She called back to me. I raced to catch up blushing and embarrassed. I was almost afraid to look.
Everything was black, the walls and floor. At first I didn’t see the bed or the other furniture. Only the shinny surfaces tipped me off. It took a moment for me to realize what I was looking at.
It was a dungeon. Miss Angel smiled as she watched my face.
“You’ll be paired up with two submissives during hours. They rotate, for obvious reasons.” Her voiced sounded husky.
I did know what she meant, I knew very well. I interviewed to be their Sadist. I would be beating my co-workers, and I would do so with relish. It was my nature, I take joy in hurting others.
“It’s perfect.” I said smiling taking her hand.
My first partner was a man named Dinari. He was very breathtaking, he was vaguely European looking. He was tall and lean with dark hair and slate grey eyes. He was also already nude. Oh yes, I was going to love this job. I watched him as he walked into my booth.
“Miss Batling?” He asked scanning me similarly to the way Miss Angel did.
“That’d be me.” I said undoing my bra.
“Well,” He said looking at me, licking his lips. “It’s not everyday I get such a beautiful abuser.”
“Unzip me?” I said teasing him. He was quick to move behind me and he was graceful. I’d have to ask him if he was a dancer. He helped my skirt down my legs his hand traced along my skin. He stood again leaning into and whispered in my ear.
“No panties and an under bust corset, the customers will love that.”
“ I think you do too.” I said my honeyed fuck me voice poured out of my mouth. My fingers instinctively wrapped around the whip.
The Rouge’s Gallery was opening in 15 minutes. I didn’t want to wait, I wanted to rip him open watch him twist in agony. He noticed my need and smiled as he walked over to the arm restraints wordlessly placing his arms inside. Smiling I walked behind him, strapping him in.
“If I hurt you beyond your limits please use the house safe word.”
He nodded as I pulled the whip back, I filled my lungs with air and brought the whip down . He flinched and I purred.
I had gasps behind me. I didn’t turn my head, I let the onlookers stare at my round, firm ass and wish it was them under my care. I bought the whip down again and again. Each time harder making flinch and moan. When my arm was tired I leaned forward pressing my tits into his back so I could reach his erect cock. I wrapped my hand around his shaft gripping his cock making him groan with pain.
My legs were spread wide, the onlookers got a great view of my swollen pussy, they could tell I loved my new job.
I let his wrists free, and turned him to face the crowd. I smiled wide to the crowd. The sounds of sex were just starting through out the hall. I pushed Dinari to his knees on the satin covered bed. Then I laid down, spreading my thighs.
Instinctively he knew what I wanted but just to be certain, I reached out catching his hair in my hand. I pulled him closer forcing his my mouth to my spread pussy. His tongue traced over my outer lips before he nipped at my clit. The contact of his teeth made me shiver. I pressed my thighs to his ears my fingers still curled in his hair.
“Fucking eat my pussy.” I yelled so he could hear me. He simply nodded driving his tongue into me. I arched my back pushing down into him. If every day at work was going to be this fun.
I dug my nails down into his neck and shoulders. I felt him shudder and moan while he was probing inside my pussy with his tongue. I bit my lip and let out a sigh. My body shivered in delight as I was planning my next attack.
I growled shoving him away from me, rushing to get up. My breasts moved and bounced Dinari’s eyes followed them helplessly he whimpered. I walked to the back wall, looking at the tools at hand. I slowly scanned them.
I selected the flogger, taking it down, fingering it’s full length. This time I pushed Dinari on the bed. I moved behind him. I stared at the sensual curve of his perfect ass. I had somehow missed his ass completely with the whip. A mistake I wouldn’t make with the flogger. I bought it back and slapped his ass. The sound was satisfying and made my pussy tingle, I was suddenly very aware of my own need to be fucked. I pushed that aside and let the flogger fly. I watched his body move, I could almost feel his thoughts. I lashed him faster, not thinking simply doing. I was running on instinct now.
Tossing the flogger away for a silver bamboo cane. I was moving faster swinging the cane into his flesh. Dinari was screaming now. A sea of gasps came in front of us, beyond us. I listened without stopping my work. It seemed as the though the noise from the other booths had quieted if not stopped.
Dinari refused to say the word, he refused to. I had no choice but to collapse on top of him. Gasping and sweaty my mouth found a stop on his shoulder and bit him hard.
“Thank you.” He whispered kissing my hand. Applause rang out. It was a very surreal experience. I looked up to see Miss Angel standing at the forefront of a sea of people. She looked pleased,very pleased.
HNT Courtesy of Blue-Eyed Vixen
Welcome to e[lust] - your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether youíre looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, youíre going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #9? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the siteís sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
~ This Weekís Top Three Posts ~
This Isnít Play. . . BDSM and Rape – The very basic principle that we hold so dear in BDSM play, ìNothing without consentî seems to stand in stark contrast to a very common form of play, ìRape Playî.
Half-Full – When I get my ass beaten, is it as much for the sensation as it is for the ìGood girlÖI knew you could take that for me.î that I want so badly at the close of the scene?
House Party Part 2 -His wife walked by at one point and he cryptically asked her to “do what she did to so-and-so earlier”. His wife disappeared behind me, but I felt her hands touching me and his cock as it entered me.
~ e[lust] Editress ~
Backseat Orgasms - We kissed lightly and without focus, both a sensual act and maddening at the same time. More, I needed more. In a blur I was on my knees on the seat, straddling his leg, his mouth latched onto one nipple and his fingers hunting for the key to undoing my dress pants.
~ Featured Post (Lillyís Pick) ~
Are You Watching Me? – A plan of devious proportions begins to form. Before this is over with, I will have forced you into a cornerÖforced you to actÖforced you to give ME what I want.
See also: Pleasurists #64 and 65 for all your sex toy review needs.
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the ìread moreÖî tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!
Erotic Writing
A story of FL
Contemplation
Cuddling
Floor Exercises
Good day for a milking
Goodbye
G-Spot Orgasms Galore – Part 2
Initiation
Logan
Mark. Confession #423
Mouth
Nothing says I love you quite like…
Playful and Dangerous
Play your part
Plotter
Splish Splash
The Library Hotel
The Secret I Couldn’t Keep
Triple X
Three A.M. Surprise
Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
Anatomy of Desire (PT. Two)
Better Cautious Than Raped
Lingerie Tales Vol 1 An Obsession Begins
My life as a gamer’s slave
Perplexed
Saturday Texting
So Simple
The Elusive Female Orgasm
The G Spot Mouse or How To Make A Woman Squirt
Transtastic: On Language
Kink & Fetish
A No Limits Slave?
Are Discipline and Punishment The Same?
BDSM Advice Series: Pet Play
Bondage 101óPart 1: Bondage Basics
Breaking the Demons
Dark/DirtyBlog Crush
Factory Doll
Hand vs. toys
I’m on a book cover: ‘The Punishment List’ by Abel
Kink
Men as sex objects
Rough Porn
Raleigh and La Fortress
Savouring the texture of my skin with his teeth
The Way They Look At Me
The Slut Chronicles #13 ~ The Auction
Whither the spankosphere?
Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor
Happy Valentines Day!
Hookers, Catholic School Students and Facebook
Lane Bryant Makes Puppies and Kittens Cry
Pussy Cosmetics and Vagina Myths
February 23rd, 2010 in
Digests & HNT | tags:
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My name is Lola Batling, there are two things I really hate: flowery BDSM stories in which it feels like an essay on “Why my Master is the best” those really irk me and I’m not sure why. My story is not one of those, for I have no Master anymore.
The second thing I can’t stand is labels either, though I seemed to accumulate them with ease. Smallish, barely five feet in my platform Mary Janes I got on sale at Hot Topic, I got called “goth” a lot. It was annoying. To me, I was just a girl living in Detroit with my boyfriend and two cats. When I met Victor, things changed. I picked up another label: Submissive. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it at first, but I started to grow accustomed to it. I wanted to share that with Victor, but I never got the chance. We had just begun to explore. Although it felt natural, almost inevitable, part of me expected it was Victor’s plan. If so, I was happy to be his puppet.
It was early September when I lost the love of my life. Victor had been my world for the past three years. I didn’t like labels, but there was something about Victor that I couldn’t just shake. It wasn’t just that I was having sex, good sex mind you, for the first time with him, but he just turned something inside me that I hadn’t experienced before. When he died, I felt traumatized and lost. After those three years, I never thought it would end so suddenly, so abruptly. Another thing I didn’t expect was to fall into a loveless relationship on the rebound.
Erotica became my choice of reading. I enjoyed getting lost in other people’s sexual deviance. It was safer than indulging my own. Victor always made fun of me for being so bookish and quiet. His death only drove me back into the comfort of my shell. Though, urges can only be suppressed for so long before the courage grows and the hunger takes over.
The night was an odd one. I was on the verge of something, even if I couldn’t place my fingers on it exactly. The days prior found me in a stressful situation, haunting a chatroom more and more seeking the comfort of strangers. That night, I found myself drawn to Him. Something about him made me feel like my heart could explode despite the likeliness of him being thousands of miles away. For that night, looks didn’t matter. I didn’t care if he was dark, handsome, rich, or even male. He just made me feel truly submissive.
We spent the rest of the night flirting with each other, batting sexually charged banter back and forth over the internet. It was nice to meet someone who shared my tastes and desires. Our posts were spiked with asterixes and net-gesturing. The only sad thing was, that it was the closest I had gotten to fulfilling my need since Victor’s death. When it got too late for me, I ducked out of the room gracefully, exchanging emails with the guy and a loose promise to “play again” later.
While the session got my juices flowing, it didn’t do anything to fully sate the burning desire threatening to tear its way out up through my loins and out of my chest. I hadn’t been dominated for real since Victor passed.
It wasn’t that I didn’t try. I did. The so-so play dates and married men looking for a quick cheap thrill didn’t do anything for me. It did however help me understand my need was better served by having a connection. I couldn’t follow orders just because.
No, I had to have more. My potential Dominant had to get inside my head. He had to make me want, drive me mad with need. The way Victor had. At the time I never realized what Victor had done. He’d stripped me of every defense, every inhibition. Victor laid me bare in front of him and rebuilt me. If he saw me now, he’d be ashamed. My ex had destroyed all of his work in just 8 months.
Here I was, mourning Victor still. Wondering how I ever thought my ex was worth my time or my tears. I was even dry on the sex side since my ex and I stopped seeing each other. Even a sympathy grudge-screw was out of the question since my new ex-boyfriend was out on a date with the hussy of the week. As usual, it was up to me to comfort myself.
After some digging, I was able to find some white candles and clear off my altar. Placing the candles around me, over the altar and on the floor, helped me calm down a little bit, though it didn’t make the feeling vanish completely. The full length mirror across the room met my gaze as I stood up fully, starting to unzip my black lace dress. The fabric fell across my skin like petals off a dying rose. Left standing, looking back at me in the mirror, was a girl. I looked absurd to myself. Small, in stockings and Mary Janes. Even with my black bra on, I look younger than I am. The dolls behind me do not help the image. Slowly, I slid down to my knees, reflexively reaching for the doll nearest to me but, something stopped me completely.
“Good girl,” His voice echoed in my head. “Touch your cunt for me.”
“Victor?” I asked, thinking perhaps I’d lost it.
“Lola, do not make me ask again, you know what will happen.” His voice echoed through the room.
My delicate hands started to stroke my clit softly as my eyes closed just enough so I could barely see the flickering flames of the candles. My mind started building mirages out of the dancing flame. It was so real. I kept kneeling, clutching my hands to my chest, gripping the fabric, as I started to suck and gag on his long, hard cock. He was fucking my mouth as I watched, stuffing his large, thick cock into and out of my garnet colored mouth like he’s trying to choke me to death with it. I swallow hard and don’t care until the scene dissolves and starts again, this time with me over his lap, my ass up high in the air and burning red. His big hands slapped my ass harder with each swing, causing me to wriggle my ass teasingly while I kept count of each hard, forceful smack.
“Bad Lola. You naughty, little whore,” His voice was loud, more stern and mocking than angry because He knew what twisted my knobs. I loved the pain and when he called me a whore. I still blushed to the thought after all those years.
At that, my cunt was soaked and my fingers slid around it easily, finding my clit with a homing sense. I opened my eyes just long enough to retrieve a couple of pink plastic clothes pins. Quickly freeing my nipples from my bra, I placed a clothes pin on each one, sucking in air from the sharp and sudden pain. My mind’s eye showed me the next scene, where I was tied to a bed. As He stepped close, I could see the flogger in His hand. A little thrill passed through me as He brought it down on my belly over and over again. He then caressed my hard nipples with the flogger with eyes intent on my face to gauge my reactions. My breasts, large and full, jiggled as He struck them firmly. True to my word, I barely made a sound as He flogged me. I was bloody, but I enjoyed myself.
The stinging hurt so deliciously I didn’t ever mind. Victor indulged my cravings for pain. Whip, flogger, nipple clamps, his bare hands. He gave them to me all. He’d rip me apart if I asked nicely enough. That was the root of our love making. He delighted in watching writhe on the sheets beneath him. More importantly, he liked watching me grow into a sensual creature. Sometimes a girl needs a reminder, which even now he was giving me.
Before long, I was crouched low, rocking my hips back and forth as I fingered myself hard. Three fingers plunging into me as hard and fast as I could. The orgasm took over, causing my whole body to shake as I came, covering my fingers with my thick juices. Breathlessly, I licked my fingers clean and took the clothes pins off. I smiled. It was amazing at how vivid each detail was still in my head, even more so how exciting it still was. Even though He was gone, there was a part of me that was forever changed by the time we spent together. I could feel things starting to change, and that this was just another beginning in a long line of beginnings.
I said a small prayer before looking in the mirror one last time. I didn’t see the little girl anymore. Well, maybe a little, but the woman that stood before me just smiled before I snuffed the candles and cleaned up.
With no traces of my dark play-session, I climbed into bed with a content sigh. I drifted off to sleep thinking maybe just maybe, not all of Victor’s work had not been lost. I didn’t even wake up when my ex came home.
My name is Lola Batling and I’ve been a whore. While this is not an apology for anything I have done this is a statement.
I’ve always said that to be good at what you do, you have to give yourself fully. Lately I haven’t been, I felt in the best interest of not getting hurt, surround myself with people.
Great idea!
Except it wasn’t.
I realized…that I’m not getting what I want because instead of letting myself make a friend and possibly a lover. I’ve been having affair after affair BECAUSE I’m afraid to put up and shut up and see what happens with one person. I mean how can I expect to find longterm if I just give it up…because I have no Master. That takes time but how can a real Dom take me seriously if because he’s not around i’ll hop into a bed.
No more bed hopping!
I’m considering myself happily committed. I’m no longer open to new lovers. Talking to a friend, I realized something. I’ve let myself become “anyone’s everything” I never meant to. It just kind of happened. I have many special friendships with the people on my cast list and I hope they understand and stay friends.
I am committed to two very lovely people now, no more playing, no more seeing where things go.Things will never go anywhere until I am smart enough to realize what is right in front is most important. I need to nurture these precious people because they have made me feel so good.
While one is new and I am in no way saying we’re together fully yet, I feel in order to really learn each other and get closer. I need to say :
Ume, I know you might not have been “looking” really and you might be busy with life. But I would like explore this. I am not expecting anything from you. I will take whatever you offer. I like that I matter to you as person. I just needed to say…One means One. I am here, and I’m not going anywhere. Let’s crank up the TARDIS and have a beer. Hold to me, and I’ll hold on tight. I’ll be your tink if you want.
Babykat, I’m no longer searching, I’ve found. Even if you and Ume only stay with me for a short time it’s worth it to grow with you than to not. You love me, you ACTUALLY love me. I’m keeping you as long as you’ll have me.
You ARE the girl of my dreams. I’ll always be your Kiaawa Monster.
I need to focus on these lovely humans right now.
Oh, and Pritkin I will always be here I do not “come back” I really do have something special with you. However, sub-her loves you right now (not saying I don’t love you, but you collared her) be with her. I’m sure no’ren is patient and understanding she’ll be at your side where she belongs always. I love no’ren and yes, I love you. Just don’t forget to talk to me!
Moments. It’s funny how things can change, in the time it takes you to read this post even. Meeting Ume is one such moment. It’s me walking into a pub and somehow seeing him. It’s a beautiful thing. Rare like flipping a coin and getting tails every time.
Ume…
I felt it even then, talking to him about of all things The Guild. It segued in to Doctor Who. It didn’t stop there. Let’s be clear I didn’t intend on this happening. I am however forever grateful it did.
Ume is extraordinary. He cares about me, I love that most about him. I actually love that we haven’t had sex. Still he has me enthralled. Most likely he could never have sex with me and I’d still follow him around.
The things he says are breathtaking. He said one thing that really got me. I mean it GOT me. For a second just one tiny second I actually thought he was just saying it. To make me feel better kind of thing. Then I felt this warmth coming from him. His energy caressing my skin.
“ I want to know you. Even if you decided that I no longer thrill you. I still want you in My life. I find you that interesting, sensual, and you bring a thrill to My life I’ve been missing. If you weren’t in that chair you would break Me.”
Standing in the rain he offered me his coat in that instant, I knew he meant it. I felt better. All the years of wondering are now ended and Ume, Babykat, and Jak have been the restorers of my self worth and the source of my happiness.
Yay…
I’m now sleeping on him until he tells me to get off. I dream of licking his…heart. He can talk to me about Pritkin and Jak. He’s helped me to further understand the nature of my heart and the way I love. He doesn’t make me feel bad for loving with my whole heart.
Instead he prizes it.
I believe Ume prizes me.
I also have not forgotten Pritkin but, I must…breathe without him.
Yes, I love Pritkin still, that will never go away. I think Ume understands that once you REALLY love someone it never quite dies. Even if you want to swallow.
But, you can learn to love again.
Read Part One
This quote describes how I believe Pritkin feels for me.
“Somewhere someone is thinking of you. Someone is calling you an angel. This person is using celestial colors to paint your image. Someone is making you into a vision so beautiful that it can only live in the mind. Someone is thinking of the way your breath escapes your lips when you are touched. How your eyes close and your jaw tightens with concentration as you give pleasure a home. These thoughts are saving a life somewhere right now. In some airless apartment on a dark, urine stained, whore lined street, someone is calling out to you silently and you are answering without even being there. So crystalline. So pure. Such life saving power when you smile. You will never know how you have cauterized my wounds. So sad that we will never touch. How it hurts me to know that I will never be able to give you everything I have.”
–Henry Rollins
I feel it for Him.
Seeing Pritkin with her hurts. Even if I get to fuck him. I gave him special parts of me, I “infected” him with my fetish. (I seem to have a habit of doing that, sorry.)
He is having his cake and eating it too, I know this. Then again, so will I. He and I are truly well matched in that we can do this. People who haven’t experienced this will say he’s snowballing me or blowing smoke up my ass. You might be right, but I’d lay huge odds you’re wrong..
I’m copying part of an email here so that I may keep it and clarify Pritkin for everyone AND me.
(In case You’re reading Pritkin, I removed all identifying text, I think. I wanted to keep this, but will remove if you desire.)
“ I feel like an ass for lying to you. I feel like a heel for not telling you from the get go who I was. I honestly wish I had known you would be back and looking for Me when I met [sub-her], and maybe things would not have gotten this far. I wish I had not been chicken and told you about My marriage when it first happened. Maybe you could have warned Me about marrying someone that wasnt into any kink whatsoever.
Please forgive Me. Forgive Me for lying to you. Forgive Me for never being able to do things right when it comes to U/us. Forgive Me for always seeming to choose someone other than you. I always feared I would never be enough for you. Or for anyone. I know I’m not enough for My wife. I’m a bad Dominant…still only learning despite the years of trying. Forgive Me…please, forgive Me.”
The thing is, for me he’s ALWAYS been enough. I just think we’ve been afraid of the way we feel. He’s taught me not doubt my feelings. Trust my gut. If I hadn’t fought to love him. To feel that, a love like ours. I would have never trusted my feelings about Babykat. I’d have let her pass through my fingers. I have faith. I have faith in love and Pritkin.
I forgive him. I’m guilty of some sins. I am not above some of our crazy dance we call love. I never intended to make him feel not enough. He is enough and he’s my kind of man. He inspires me, he pulled me into writing Erotica.
He has helped shaped the Geisha you all love.
This post as been helped along in part by Pritkin and the great wordsmith Henry Rollins.
