Alice - Chasing Rabbits

Seth is pulling at my blouse again; it’s become some kind of nightly ritual. Hot breath in my ear, and his tongue tracing the ridges, his other hand is at the back of my neck, and I’m getting all kinds of dizzy. That weird, electric glow growing between us and it’s like we’re feeding on each other or something, my hands are everywhere, his chest, his shoulders, his face, his hips, grasping and clawing, and sliding across his skin.

When his fingertips meet my nipples there is a great crashing wave through my body, my eyes are locked on the moon, lost in it, afraid of it, and wanting it. Knowing, just like I know that the bright question mark of stars above me is called ‘Cassiopeia’, that what Seth and I are doing will end me. As his lips find the skin between my breasts, that wave crests again, and I know Alice is watching.

She leaves me alone, mostly, on date nights, but I know the moon trumps all our best laid plans. I don’t blame her, that Cheshire-cat grin in the sky is all she really feels. She’s waiting her turn now, being patient, playing nice. She’s not fooling anyone; we both know she can rule me, just like we both know how much she needs me. And Seth mistakes the smile on my lips, he gnashes his teeth against my nipple, and misreads the air between my teeth and pulls away with a mumbled apology, I lose my orgasm to misinterpretation.

A few moments later our bodies twisting, repositioning, we work our way around each other’s skin like a pair of sex driven creatures. I’m on all fours, knees dirty, twigs and pebbles beneath them digging in, biting a little, hands bracing against the tree, breasts swinging free, Seth is behind me, his hands on my hips, bringing me to him, his cock, like steel, pressing into me, prying open the space between my legs. His need, so firm within me, feels like the whole world has entered me, like all of existence is being pounded into the center of me.

When it’s over, Seth walks me, as usual, as far as the park. Our paths home separate halfway down the path, and I hear his boot heels making their rubbery clomp as they fall on the concrete. My own soft soled trainers making almost no mark on the quiet summer night.

My eyes travel to the sky, its white grin starting something. I take a deep breath, and on my exhale am no longer steering. Just like when we were a kid and learned to ride our bike no-handed, I lean back inside myself and let go, and just like back then, I feel a rush of air across my face and an invisible force take over. It always scares me, a little, trusting something I can’t see or control, it also scares me how welcome that feeling really is.

~x~

I come in on Layla’s exhale, as though the air moving in our lungs were some sort of toggle switch between her and me. I barely have time to revel in my freedom when I hear a voice behind me.

“Hey ‘candy’”, the voice calls from the shadows, somewhere under the wide fan of the willow I’m passing, “got something sweet for me?”

“Fuck off” I hiss to him, and feel Layla shiver inside me.

“Oh!” He calls, “Tough little bitch are you? We can play it like that, if you want.” There is an amused tone in his voice, as though my retort has feed something in him. I turn, and lower my eyes onto him. I don’t need to try to make him see how big a mistake he wants to make right now. As I had guessed, the pathetic animal shrinks within himself, and I pass unmolested into the night. I can feel his eyes traveling over our body as I leave him, and something inside me knows that this dog will have to be put down.

I have to keep Layla from steering for the next few weeks, to make the arrangements. I’m as close to excited as I’ve ever felt, for years now, my Cheshire-cat moon has been calling me, wanting this, and promising this will make life real for me. I want to share, at least part of this with her, but I know she’ll have no taste for it, the moon doesn’t have the same hold on her, she’s real, I’m something else.

It’s been a long month, waiting, pretending to feel, kissing Seth for Layla so she won’t lose him, and trying not to vomit while his greedy hands work my body. He’s frustrated because Layla doesn’t come beneath him while he uses her, I can’t tell him why that is. He also doesn’t understand why I won’t let him walk her through the park anymore. I can’t tell him that it’s best the animal who lives there forgets he ever saw us.

When I’m ready for him, I find the dog in the same place I left him, under the willow tree in the moonlight, my smiling Lord, has returned to bless my actions tonight. He’s dosing, a light snore escaping him on random breaths. Any fear, or second thoughts are cancelled as I my eyes focus on his right hand, a pair of bikini-briefs adorned with little red cherry blossoms are clenched within it, the smooth wet reflection from the lamplight tells me he’s used them recently, the coppery smell of semen fills my nostrils and feeds my desire to end it for him. To give this animal that sweetest of release.

Working quickly, carefully, I bind him, my foot kicking an empty vodka bottle as I cross his left side, drunk and post coital, he’s made this almost too easy for me. He only wakes when I have him completely trussed to the tree, and am shoving those panties deep into his throat. His eyes open, confused, and widen as he seems to recognize me.

Naked beneath my clear plastic rain coat, I know our body will distract him enough for me to keep control. I raise my blade above him and begin my work for the first time, and really feel our heart beating rapidly in our chest. I hear Layla screaming in my mind, and block her voice. She still hasn’t learned to go away, she still has to sit and watch, but right now I’m so real, so alive that I almost wish she didn’t have to share. I get a little excited in my work, and feel the creature’s blood splashing this way and that leaving trails along the walls of my coat, the heavy plastic keeping me clean, but still allowing the heat to come through to me.

I know what an orgasm feels like, because Layla’s are strong and she can’t help but share them with me, I’d never felt my own until this moment, the salted wine spraying across my barely covered skin, the power of this gift feeding into all the other sensations.

Just as the moon promised I am alive tonight, I am real, and now, I’m sure, I can never stop.

Alice - Looking Through The Glass

“I worry about Layla,” We hear the Mommy saying into the phone, “she plays so strangely sometimes!”

She wants to listen, I feel our heart grow warm and still at the sound of her name from the Mommy’s lips. I know Layla wants to go to her, press her face into the Mommy’s lap and try to calm her. I try to remind her that the Mommy isn’t like us. Just to prove a point I tug our hair a little, Layla cries out when a bunch of it comes off in her hand, I laugh, “Did that hurt?” I tell her, “Funny! I didn’t feel a thing!”

The Mommy and Layla catch each other’s stare and I stop, it’s not good to confuse her, I don’t know why, but somehow I know you can’t let them catch on. You can’t let them know we’re different. I have to be a secret.

“Ssshh!” I whisper, “I’m not really here…” and I can’t help but giggle while I take us to our room. I know the Mommy is watching me go. She almost always does when I forget, when I come out in the living room. I have to be more careful. I need the Mommy.

“Al-ice!” Layla whines at me as soon as we have the door closed, “You’re gonna get us in trouble again!” Her voice is so much sweeter than mine; I think that’s how the Mommy can tell, because Layla can sing. The Mommy always looks at us funny when I try to sing with them. I start to sing now, while we pull the boards from the closet wall, ‘Golden Afternoon’ from the movie where we got my name. We saw it at the Grandma’s house last year. I almost never come out at the Grandma’s house, the old lady smells funny. I let Layla go there alone; I play by myself in our mind.

I like to watch the movies, though. Layla snuggles up next to the Grandma. Usually we fidget and fight, and the Grandma gets upset, but this movie was special. Something about that little girl and her daydreams caught me. We sat still as stone and the Grandma was so happy she gave Layla a cookie. After, in the backyard we found a family of opossums and played Queen of Hearts; I told Layla she had to call me Alice after that, it just felt right, and I never had a name before. That’s how we know Layla’s the real one, I’m just something else.

The air is hot in our lungs and Layla wants to rub the sweat out of our eyes, but I like the sting. Its not easy crawling between the walls, but it’s the only place where I can be with my things. I don’t think the Mommy knows about the little room, I think it sits between the hall bathroom and the den, there’s pipes. Layla always tries to stop at the entrance, she doesn’t like it here.

I like it here. It’s dark, and hot, and I don’t have to worry about them seeing me, I can take over for a while, in here it’s my turn. Layla doesn’t know how to go away, but I don’t let her steer, she has to just sit there and watch. The pipes make a lot of noise, so I can even talk and play with my treasures and not have to worry about being heard.

“Boxes of boxes of boxes,” I say to myself with a smile, the sound of my real voice as refreshing as the feel of the Daddy’s old cigar box in my hands. A whiff of that deep, sticky, oily scent, puffs from the box when I open the lid. Looking at my treasure makes me smile, I think back to the woods, playing with the opossum family, how upset the Grandma got when she found us, fresh blood on our cheeks; the taste of it on our lips. It was a hard moment for Layla, for sure, but she got through it. The next time we were there, the Grandma kept a stronger eye on us, but I got a little time and I was able to find where she put them and bring a piece back to my secret place. I pet the small patch of fur with one finger, and dream about the treasures I will find, and create, in time.

Alice

‘It’s not fancy, but it’s nice’, he assures himself not for the first time, as he looks nervously at the entrance. The bunch of daisies beside him beginning to look not as proud as they had half an hour ago when he arrived, wet palmed and heart racing. He’s had time to cool a bit, and his shirt has had time to relax it’s carefully pressed fabric, the anticipation, and self-doubt are beginning to find their own time in the back of his thoughts. ‘What if she’s not what she said? What if she sucks? What if she doesn’t think I’m what I said? What if I suck?’

He runs their conversations through his mind, bits and pieces of verbal nostalgia playing in his ear, letters, phone calls, all that shared and private laughter. The smile that plays on his lips is as unconscious as the blush at his neck, both the result of their more, sordid conversations. She’s everything he’s looking for, and no strings. And as that thought comes to him, again his gaze drifts to the entrance.

His heart soars as the world slides into slow motion; the doorway is filled with the same girl from all the pictures, those deep brown eyes, tan legs flashing beneath the wine colored halter dress. He steps to her, stammering, “H- Hi…” and his voice betrays him with a crack and a squeak, because he can’t help but imagine those legs opening close enough to his face for him to feel her heat on his cheeks, back arching as the deep red silk slips up her thighs and drapes across her sex like a theater curtain.

Her smile reads his thoughts, with a playful toss of her hair and a swish of her skirt, she takes his hand, leaning forward she places a kiss at his neck just below his ear and whispers.” I know what you’re thinking, and yes. But let’s get a table first.”

Before he really knows its happening she leads his hand through the slit in her dress, pressing his fingertips into the soft fabric of her panties, warm, not damp, and then it’s gone, and the hostess is asking them to follow her to their table. His sad little daisies lay forgotten on the waiting bench.

Dinner, for him, feels like a dream, his mind spinning through the courses laced with her electric touch, brushing his leg, his shoulder. Each new plate seeming to spur on her advances, appetizer, to entrée, hot fingertips tracing his hardening cock through his pants, or leading his to that secret paradise between her thighs. Entree to dessert has her voice in his ear, spilling dirty thoughts into it, while images of cream melting across her tongue fill his thoughts. All the while filled with deep eye contact, and her silvery laughter, their conversation falling from them like a moment lost in time.

In the cab, on the way to her flat, she allows him to taste her. Laying supine across the back seat and holding him with those beautiful legs he hears for the first time without a speaker, her sounds. He tongues her swollen clit and toys with the jewelry she has there, three pair of labia rings, interlocked, bar his fingers, but create and intriguing texture against his lips, the taste of the surgical steel mixing with the sweet salt of her bites his taste buds with a coppery sting. She uses her panties from behind his head like a net, pulling at the waistband to lock him to her; and grinds her sex into him, mashing his teeth against her clit as he tries desperately to pull his lips together around it. And between her puffing breath and moans he hears her giving the cabbie directions, and describing what the rearview mirror can’t show.

He’s in a world he never thought he’d really know, surrounded by the sounds and textures and scent of her, his cock throbs with need, and he questions, for a moment, the jewelry. She’d never mentioned them, and he was certain from the phone calls that they weren’t always there. It’s a fleeting thought, though, because he needs this too badly to question any of it. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve had a real girl…’ he thinks and, his fingers clinch at her hips in desperate gratitude, ‘…no more silly bitches, Tommy. Only class A kinky thinkers from now on boy!’ and that thought sends him reeling, hips grinding against the bench seat in a frantic display of his desire.

He tries to pull his shoulders in, wanting to slid up, needing to feel her thighs on his, to give his restless prick something to shove, the idea of at least rubbing against that web of metal making him hungrier, but she rolls her pelvis to match his movements, keeping his face where she wanted it, keeping the control she’d promised she could provide. He whimpers and submits, frustrated, and sucks angrily at her clit forcing her orgasm. He feels the cab swerve and know what the driver is feeling, he’s been there. He remembers driving, one hand on the wheel, the other on his cock, and her in his ear lost deep in some dirty fantasy, ‘How sweet’, he thinks, ‘to finally control those sounds, to feel her flesh, to taste her’.

Sweet release finds him in the elevator, twelve flights never felt so long with her lips hugging his cock in a full mouth embrace. Her tongue rolls against his flesh in hot waves, lip and tongue piercings drawing smooth pressure points, proving her abilities in rhythmic taps as she pulls. His climax comes in perfect time with the belly dropping sensation of the lift settling.

~x~

My new plaything is lost in it’s own mind when I shove the decoy aside and start to really play. All night I’ve been letting her share, she’s had to do a lot of work to get us this one. While it’s dizzy and weak minded, I lead it to the door, it thinks it’ll get sex, so it follows.

The blind little sheep, stupid little cock driven animal! It doesn’t even notice she’s gone, that the swing in my step isn’t the same as hers. It doesn’t notice that I almost choke on my bile as it shoves that weirdly squirming tongue against mine, but it seems to like the taste of itself in my mouth. It thinks the disgust on my face and the strength I show when I shove him to the couch is a game she promised to play.

She told it there would be ropes, but she was wrong, she doesn’t know about the drug. She doesn’t even know about the job that opened the door to it. The toy barely notices the needle when I pair it with a well placed bite, and its racing heart and ragged breathing hasten the effect. Curare is a powerful drug. Its eyes widen as it realizes it can’t move, blinking rapidly.

“This stuff,” I say, waving the syringe so it can see, “works quickly. Without respiratory aid the diaphragm paralyses within several minutes, good for us I don’t need nearly that long to see what you’re made of.”

I raise its arms, working quickly, but carefully rubbing the warm, dead, palm against my nipples, my other hand expertly releasing the jewelry she didn’t know she was wearing, I take his greedy flesh into myself rocking and working myself against a cock I know will die happily inside my orgasm.

“I know you feel everything,” I say, letting laughter play in my voice, taunting it, “ you told her you wanted to be helpless, vulnerable to a powerful creature to use for pleasure. She told you to be careful what you wished for. You should have listened.”

The pupils are drawn to pin-pricks now, it’s close, the buzzing starts, the gift begins. From below the cushions I draw my blade, making sure it sees, squeezing my muscles around it mimicking the way she used her tongue in the same place, using it now to press against the sacred mound within me, the chain mail web grinding against it’s testicles, a few rings swinging with my movements.

The eerie silence when there should be screams as I bring the skin from its ribs away from its torso and use the crimson wine to paint my breasts, my belly; its cheeks, spur me to come stronger than I’ve ever known. The gift presents itself in perfect time; I watch its eyes and know that the last moment between this world and that was split equally with the crest of my orgasm, a perfect way to start the game.

My toy is now complete, and still oh, so warm and sticky. I lose myself to my playtime, spending hours taking things apart, and learning things, tasting, touching, using it. I splash around in its insides a bit before I prepare it. Experience has shown me that a popsicle stick works just beautifully to keep the penis useful. The hands I remove and place in the lockbox in the bedroom. I take the rest to my temple, to use later, when time has had a chance to change it a little for me.

Words...

I know I'm a long while between posts, but I wanted to drop everyone a line and beg your patience, I'm working on something kind of special, so bare with me, ok?

In the meantime I would absolutely LOVE it if anyone had anything to say, (questions, comments) about anything at all, really...

Please?

B-

Tryst

The thought of you has been driving me nuts all day. Our afternoon tryst still moistens my lower lips at the thought. I’ve been writing, sex on the brain. That window opens, the blue sphere tells me it’s V. You seem a little disappointed at the conversation turning to my calling him. The thought of the three of us crosses my mind. I know he’s into that, and you may be tempted.

He’s all hot about the pictures I sent him. When I call he answers on the first ring. You’ve got your hands on my breasts nuzzling the space between them and I miss what he says about the look in my eyes in the picture he’s staring at.

Thoughts of his sounds and your body driving me to distraction, I sit outside with you and smoke. I have to admit my original thoughts went to having you outside, the air on our skin an added sensation, but not wishing to press my luck, I lead you to the couch, removing my pants. When I tell V I’ve just shaved my pussy, I can hear his breath shake on his exhale. I hear his panting deepen as I tell him you’re eating me. The way you make me come and the sound of you fisting your own cock, the thought of me pleasing two men at once gives me that throaty gasp, and V starts saying “There you go, that’s it, come for us, be a Good Girl” and I know he’s gonna nut soon. That’s when I tell him not to pop too quickly because I’m gonna let you fuck me, and I have to step outside of myself for a second and wince because I should have said ‘Let you hear him fuck me’ bad wording… but I hear him whimper as he tries to back off.

You’re still pulling on yourself and licking me, and I think about how much he loved the BJ pictures we took, and thinking about how hard I’ve been trying to learn to swallow your shaft, so I suck on you for a bit. That whimper in my ear getting stronger and the greedy way you’re grabbing at me and holding my head is driving me hard, just like the train I hear go by outside.

I get to that point. That cagey, I need to get fucked HARD right NOW, point. I tell him how you’re gonna fuck me from behind, knees on the couch, and the speaker in my ear explodes in ‘ Gods Yes!’ and ‘Fuck. Yeah Baby!’ , his breath puffing into the phone between his deep growls. Coming from the moment you enter me and riding the crest of one orgasm to the next almost nonstop. You slam into me from behind and just as I’m about to tell you to rub my asshole with your thumb, you drive deep and my head slams against the back of the couch hanging up the phone.

The thought of leaving him dry crosses my mind, but his sounds in the background were turning me into some kind of rabid sex kitten. I grope in panic for the phone as you keep driving your cock into me. First call the line is still busy. I take a moment to fix my headset and try again, “Good of you to call me back” he says, and I can’t really reply, you start pounding again, with a vengeance, and all I can hear is yours and my breathing. Barely in the background, I hear him egging me on now, almost an afterthought to our grunts and moans. My cunt convulses a final time as you pull out and shoot across my back, I lay there, panting, and melted on the couch. Feeling like a total Slut Goddess.

My Master's Rainbow (pt.6)

Movement in my peripheral vision draws my attention and the real world comes sharply into focus. My heart stills, and my exhale becomes ragged, it is fear, it is surprise. A cold sweat breaks out across my brow, it is need, it is impending gratification. My eyes widen and my jaw tightens, it is embarrassment, it is resolve, rejection, betrayal, and gratitude. It is anger.

It is twelve figures, faces and bodies shrouded with white satin cloaks, circled around me. Master has given me to an army. That realization brings me crashing through another orgasm, this sweet release, my body convulsing against the ropes. In the center of it, there is a point where an unconscious decision is made, my body must choose to scream or to whisper. That question posed, endorphins releasing in reply, and before the message can fully be received, the sting in my left breast begins. That familiar burning cold, the coin brings to my skin never fails to confuse my flesh. It remains, poised at the curve of my cleavage, the skin there burning and soothing as the coin rocks in time with my racing heart.

It’s like an implosion; every other sensation is not wiped away, but intensified and brought into the center of me. For a moment, the whole world is the skin beneath Master’s coin. The way it overcomes me, is like nothing else, only Master can elicit such overwhelming reactions. Then, that unforgiving heartache when the coin is removed, like my skin has betrayed me.

And swimming up from the back of it all, Mia, her voice carried to my ears over my own sucking, gasping, breath.” I know what I’ve said, Tobin, and the Bishop promised he’d be able to help me.”

“Hmm… and yet he hasn’t. So then is the fault his? Are you calling this ‘man of the cloth’ a liar? Or are you going to take a step of that high horse and admit the problem lies in you?”

As though on a timer, all twelve figures step closer to me, in unison, with no noticeable cue. My heart beats even faster, I feel sweat break out across my forehead and begin to slide down my temple, I do my best to shake my head within the web trying to fling the droplets clear of my eyes. They step again and I find myself trying to judge how many steps until they reach me, five more, maybe.

“I’m not sure how I could have done any better.” She says her voice echoing circles around me.

“Oh, really Mia?”

“I went to the right meetings, I dressed nicely, I smiled. No one came to me.”

“You smiled? And no one came to you?” In the restaurant, I had been struggled to keep the laughter out of my voice, in the cellar, listening, I realize I had done a very poor job of it, it’s ok, poor Mia, it was about to get so much worse, “ Imagine that, Mia, no one came to you .” The laughter in my voice fading now, leading into that cold edge again, then, and now, I am loving it.

Puffing up again, indignant, Mia says,” What is going on with you, today, Tobin? You’re being extremely disrespectful.”

“C’mon, Mia, disrespect? Really? If either of us is in the position need to remember their place here, it is not me. Need I remind you what the stakes are? Your son, darling,” I smile inside thinking of the way Master uses this word, “or mine? You need to be careful, Mia, really fucking careful. I called you here to remind you that your time is almost up; just six months now, think you can manage it? Don’t think I won’t take him back. I’m not that little girl anymore, Mia and you know it. ‘Nobody came to you’. What the fuck is that? No fucking wonder you haven’t gotten laid in four years!” Cursing freely now, my mother’s ‘sailor words’ given shore-leave in my sister’s ear, my voice still quite low, but vicious and clipped, this is a private show, for me, for her, for Master.

Master’s shrouded circle has stepped twice more, always in unison, always without cue, or warning. One step left and they’ll have me, my mind frantic, trying at once to imagine what will happen when they reach me, and trying to block the images out. And still over all of it, two things, tear through my mind, excitement and anger. I am caught between my cunts aching need to be used, and my heart’s feeling of betrayal at having to share my precious time with Master.

I stare at the screen, trying to center my mind on anything besides that next bittersweet step. Mia’s face, that look of pure bewildered confusion, manages to hold my attention keeping my imagination at bay. Not for the first time, that look amazes me. They all have it, my whole family, and their strange congregation. It is a look of fear and naiveté, of absolute disbelief at the possibility of any idea not presented to them by their precious gospel. God’s plan in action, if that plan were to build walls and post sentry against the unclean, it breaks my heart to see. It’s like the rape of minds, the violation of independent thought.

“I’ll come for Gray in the afternoon Mia,” The plan falling from my lips even as I place it in my mind, “you’ll be going out. I’ll send a car for you. Believe it or not, we both want the same thing. I love my son and want to see him thrive; I know Lance and I can provide for him, perhaps, better than you, now. But I also recognize the need for consistency in his life. Get in the car, Mia. We are both bound by this contract, yes, but that does not mean I can’t help you. The driver will take you to see a dear friend of mine; she will teach you a few things about how to own yourself, sell yourself, to become woman enough to own a man. You have to trust me, Mia. You don’t have a choice.”

I loved watching her face twist with the mixing emotions, gratitude at my apparent change of heart, fear at the suggestion of this woman friend, pain at the idea of change, anger for the experience on the whole. The opportunity to see it again, big as day in front of me, is not lost, but savored, grasped as desperately as a life preserver in the arms of a drowning man.

The time lost in my sister’s eyes ends all too quickly. One last shrouded step and they’re on me in a rustle of satin, a flash of hands, arms, and bare bodies, as all twelve toss their cloaks off of their shoulders, revealing their bodies, but leaving their faces lost to me. Master’s army seems equally divided; it does not appear that there is more of either sex.

They begin to touch me, some stroking gently, some using the edges of their fingernails to draw angry red lines against my soft white flesh, still more pinching, or grabbing and pulling, no part of my body is left unattended. Just like The Shoes, this satin-soaked army moves silently, with a grace like I’ve never seen, my mind just has time to frame a question as to how he finds these people, and the world begins to spin. Literally.

The silence of this tool leaves no room for warning. Excitement and frustration surge through my body, carrying with them an orgasm so strong its final waves leave black spots before my eyes. When it leaves me, I am once again horizontal, this time facing the ceiling. My ears again pick up the familiar tone of my own voice, and for a moment I am confused, ‘We already heard this part…’ I think as I hear me say “ ‘Nobody came to you’. What the fuck is that? No fucking wonder you haven’t gotten laid in four years!”

Over and over, my ears are filled with my own voice taunting my sister, calling her out, practically laughing in her face. The relief of having done that, after having been subject to her condescension my whole life, at first was a glorious moment. The replay in my mind and on the screen a reminiscent triumph, even the initial few sound byte plays were a thrilling experience when mixed this way. But now, with this fever pitched replay and four of his naked, faceless, soldiers crawling toward me, the web shaking with their weight, my desperately confused mind circles around one thought:’ There’s a reason I have never spoken that way to her!’

Her condescension is valid; her position in every way she knows to read it is above mine. She is superior, morally, professionally, educationally; even her genes are stronger than mine. I know that having been in a restaurant, a public place, I was safe for the moment, and that even barring that, Mia’s nature would never have allowed her to raise her voice to me, but later there will be another price to pay. Another voice will soon be heard, and in this family, we are to follow two gospels, that ever present, almost universal, book of God, and in truest hypocritical blasphemy, the words of my mother.

As I am taken by a surge of fear at the thought of her, her opinion, her decision on the matter, Master’s four have taken their positions. A man lies above my head, his legs spread wide to accommodate the woman who places a ball gag in my mouth and cinches it tightly before straddling my face to grind her pussy against it and my lips and leaning forward to fellate him. At the same time I feel someone else sitting at the base of my ribcage, another man, his hands at my breasts, using them against his cock Someone else, sex unknown, is using a toy, a dildo with a clit tickler aggressively on my swollen pussy, the buzz driving a bolt of that deep, white heat into my flesh with each thrust. I feel the web rock with their wild, random, movements, each sway and tumble reminiscent of the waves at the heart of a storm driven sea.

One of Master’s soldiers has grown bold, showing off his strength and prowess by climbing the web from beneath me. I feel his arms come up between the ropes at my elbows locking his with mine. He pulls himself up by the same line that runs across my collarbone, it draws tight against my chest as it takes his weight while he slides his legs through the ropes at my thighs wrapping them around me and hooking his feet just inside my knees. His cock head brushes the puckered rim of my anis; I barely have time to take note of how slick and hard he is before I realize that it’s vibrating. Somehow, despite all the motion above me he is able to hold on, to keep control, to move slowly, carefully working his vibrating phallus with long, deliberate strokes. As the woman on my face comes, he enters me the translated movement of the bullet vibe in his cock ring helping to coax my asshole into opening. The rolling, surging, motion of my web moves our bodies for him; his deep growls and hot, puffing breath in my ear announces his enjoyment.

I am surrounded by a world of sex, all over and around me people are using my body and each others’ in a writhing bed of pleasure. I feel the hands on my breasts tighten and their owner’s pace quicken, at the same time the soldier grinding against my ball gag begins to roll her hips and clench her thighs, her juices running across my tongue. I can also feel the man in her mouth pumping his hips harder into her.

Everywhere in the room the breathing has changed, and the motion of the web has grown more frantic. I marvel again that the soldier below me can maintain his hold on me, keep me so beautifully impaled within it all, forcing my own orgasm to announce itself in shudders and gulps. Somehow in the midst of it all my voice has stopped, and I realize Master must have given orders regarding their voices because no one is calling out, and there are no moans, just this ragged puffing blanket of desperate breaths, a symphony of orgasmic air.

~x~

Dressing again in that familiar, sickly yellow glow, reflecting, as always, on the things Master has shown me. Like an experiment on my soul, each session with him is meant to teach me something, too help me fix the broken pieces. By removing himself from the greater part of our session, he has left the stain of today’s color in my mind. His truest passion is the world of human emotions. A smile plays across my lips and I whisper to myself,”His passion controls him, and I benefit.”

On the cab ride home my mind turns to Mia, and to Gray, I breathe deep, resolve stirring, creating, there is work to be done. One more nearly breathless whisper earns me a glance from the rear view mirror, “Thank you Master.”

Serving The Beast

My fingers shaking as I press the number four on my phone, the speed dial taking over with it’s familiar beeps. One ring…two….

“Are you there?” His voice comes from hundreds of miles away.
“In the parking lot.” I say.
“Turn it on.” The Beast in my ear gives the command in a tone as cold as steel, but at the edge of his words I can hear his excitement. I reach into my pocket, where the control is hidden and feel the tiny red phallus come to life, fresh batteries making even the first setting an intense thrill.

A small whimper escapes me a result of both the sudden buzzing in my pants, and the realization of what it is I am about to do. His responding gasp eggs me on. It is nothing to me to be in my car with it on, still not too big a deal being semi public, but I am about to be fed to the wolves.

Take a deep breath. Step out of the car.

Excitement taking over me, mixed with urgency and embarrassment, I walk toward the entrance. The motorized doors making their hiss and sounding strangely normal to me, like somehow my actions, my intentions, should have changed their sound. I move toward the shopping carts, his voice rings out as if he’s reading my mind.

“Don’t take a big basket; get one of the small ones.”
“Yes, Sir.” My voice obedient, knowing he can hear it shaking, and wondering if he knows it’s as much from fear as excitement. This whole time my mind is screaming, ‘Stupid thing to get arrested for.’ And I try to push it aside. Moving slowly, carefully, because I am already so close to coming.

Whimpering and moaning under my breath, preying no one hears me, and hoping that my Beast still can, I walk the aisles, nervously chattering into the phone, rambling about all the things I’m seeing around me.

“Aisle One” I tell him, “Baked goods, and prepared foods.”
“Take a loaf of bread,” he tells me. I choose a loaf of sourdough; its phallic appearance not lost on me, and place it in the basket on my arm. I wander on, not really knowing what I’m doing, or what I’m expected to do, snaking my way up and down.

“Aisle Three, Sire.” I report, trying to keep my voice even.
“Go ahead and turn it up to two.”

My hand reaches obediently for the switch in my pocket, the sensation jumping into me as I comply. Somehow, I keep moving, walking up and down the aisles like a lost child. I’ve broken out in a cold sweat, my knees want to buckle, and I find myself stopping every few feet, giving in to the machine, so relentless, tucked up tight against my clit.

“Turn it up to three.” Says this Beast, this relentless, beautiful animal, knowing full well what it’ll do to me. There is no escaping the yelp that rings out clearly from my lips as I comply. Clutching my stomach, bending down, looking for all the world like I’m sick as a dog, I stare at a row of cereal, the brightly colored kid friendly boxes swimming before my eyes as I give up, give in, allow the orgasm to take over.

“Such a good girl, so eager to please.” Hearing his voice shake, knowing how much he’s feeding on this, sends me to my knees, and I feel the fluid rush of my orgasm collect in my panties. Grunting and gasping into my earpiece, and hearing his excitement on the end of the line, my whole world contracts to a single point. Only my labia dancing against the vibrator, and his ragged, intense, breath matter. My climax does not really end, it only steps back, the bite taken off of it a bit. I gather myself and rise, beginning to move down the aisle again, so very slowly.

“You may bring it down to two.” He says, with a sadistic giggle at the relief he hears in my exhale. With little ability to control my legs, I shuffle on, more afraid than ever of staying in one place, random noises spilling from me, like a forgotten tea kettle spitting and whistling on the stove, all the while his sharp voice rambling in my mind. The Beast is intense, more worked up than I’ve ever heard him, his voice trembling as he asks,” Are you near the restroom?”

“It’s at the end of this lane.” I say, his question striking through my heart like a bolt of lightening.

“Go ahead and go there.” Like a gift, and I rush to the sanctum, stopping for a moment as I see an employee stocking shelves in front of the restroom, the sharp purr of the vibe making the decision an easy one. The door barely closes behind me and I am lost to it, catching the latch to the big stall and falling to my knees, flushed and flowing and crying out, and I hear him echo my passion, so close, so ready to give me what I’m working for, he drops phone in his excitement. Through my own cries, I hear fumbling, buttons pushing, and silence…. The dreaded accidental hang up that seems to plague my best sessions.

Fumbling, myself, now, on all fours in the stall, cursing and coming, trying to get ahold of my phone, pressing the button and thinking of how I must look like a crazed animal, a picture of my cat, crouching in the midst of her heat, flashing through my mind. The ringing, the line opening, but I hear his breath has calmed. “Are you calm enough to leave?”

“I think so...” Comes my throaty whisper.
“You may turn it back down to one, then-“
“-OH Thank You!”
“-leave the room when you can.”

I take a moment to run some cold water across my cheeks and stare deep at myself in the mirror, ‘What are you doing?’ I think, and again, ‘Stupid thing to get arrested for.’ My face is flushed, I look feverish, sweaty.

Breathe. Leave the room. Go. LEAVE.

Somehow I’m in the store again, walking past the same blonde, teenaged, emo-boy stocking mac’n’cheese in the entrance, he stares after me as I walk past, I’m sure he heard. There’s no way he didn’t. Bending carefully to gather my “shopping” (still just a lonely baguette), being kept ever on the edge by my little phallic friend. I whisper to the Beast about the boy and hear his excited whimper egg me farther on.

Still lucky, most of the aisles are clear, it’s the middle of the day on Wednesday the store is only sprinkled with people, and those are members of the ‘geriatric set’ shuffling around. But as I turn the corner from aisle six to seven I see a pair of employees in the corner of my eye. And from seven to eight there they are still, I freeze. Whispering to the Beast about them I grab a bag of potato chips and feign intense interest in the ingredients as they pass. I overhear them, something about a co-worker and a manager, not about me, I release a sigh and tell him it’s ok.

“In the freezer section now,” I tell him, pressing my face to the cool glass of the ice cream cooler. And elderly couple wanders by, looking at me with watery eyes, and I wonder if their ears are strong enough to hear it buzz. It’s the polite way I greet them, they way you always feel obligated to recognize strangers that make eye contact, I think, that sends him over his own edge. His moans and gasps growing stronger in my ear, a rush running through my body, it’s the moment I’ve been working toward, and I feel both satisfaction, and grief at the sound of it.

“At the end of this aisle, stop.”
“Yes Sir.” A few moments lost in travel, punctuated with our puffing, excited breath.
“Are you there?”
“Yes, Sir”
“You are going to set the vibrator back to three-“
“-Oh God!” I make no attempt, this time, to hide my whimper.
“-you will return to Aisle 1 and put the bread back. Once the bread has been returned, you may leave the store. You do not have to walk casually for this.”

Breathe. You’re almost done. Breathe. Move! GO!

I move like I’m wading through concrete, the tiled floor stretching out before me into eternity. Tunnel vision. Somehow I’m next to the bread rack and swimming through loaves trying to remember where my own loaf came from, crazy manic energy making it important to put it in its place. I focus on the bright green and yellow of the package to guide me. The bread released, so are my legs somehow, and my pace meets my pulse as I walk through the doors. That hiss not sounding so desperately normal, now.

I orgasm twice more trying to walk to my car, and really let myself go once I’m safe in the driver’s seat, giving the Beast a feast of sounds, gasps and curses, clueing him in to how much I was effected by this task. Before our connection is severed, He assures me that I’ve done well.

“Such a good pet.” He says to me. And I thank him for the chance to show him how willing I am to please. “We will talk again.”