Archive for March 2010

Fool (for love)

March 30, 2010

Copyright 2008.  All rights reserved.


Just wanted you to know – I could’ve met up with other women today.

But I didn’t.

It’s YOU I want.

Finally realized that.  Yes, profound epiphany that it be, of all the ladies in my life, it is YOU I covet most.

…why is that?

Certainly isn’t because of anything you’ve done.  Not overtly, anyway.  Nor am I suggesting your neglect is out of malice aforethought.  It’s just – well, it’s ‘my’ thing, baybee.  And what my ‘thing’ reacts to – which just happens to be the memory of what we shared.

Not that I’m blind to all the stuff we HAVEN’T shared – you know, coffee confabs, intimate discussions around the weather and your health – all that ‘polite’ stuff.

As if it matters.  It does have its place, however – just never seemed to find a place within OUR confabs, huh.

How’d we manage to skip all that stuff?  I guess, if memory serves, we DID have some intimate discussions, on-line, whey back when, didn’t we.  Ran across some replies I meant to send – or did send – in response to our earliest, ‘getting to know each other’ discussions (talkin’ YEARS ago now…).  Don’t ask me why I still have ‘em – much less that I found them on my work computer, but…suffice it to say, they were there, and they reminded me.

So we’re not EXACTLY strangers – in the non-sexual sense, I mean.

Isn’t that a relief.  ;~>

At any rate – here I am, thinking of you, wanting you, and WRITING to you…when I could’ve been fucking someone else.

What kind of a fool am I, anyway?  ;-D


March 30, 2010

Copyright 2008.  All Rights Reserved.

I extend a hand

you bit it, bloody

I lend an ear

you bent it off

I prostrate Myself

While you look over my shoulder

I pour my heart out

and you drank your fill

I offered love

you sucked it like a tit

I asked for your time

you said ‘take a number’

I requested reciprocation

the roar of silence, deafening

I filled your soul

and you fucked me over

Houdini whodunit

March 28, 2010

Copyright 2009.  All rights reserved.


And just like that…


…she was gone.

Clever sleight of hand, smoke and mirrors, or merely the fates playing their tricks again, as they were wont to do?

Oh, he understood why – perhaps all-too well, and not for the most obvious reasons.  No, it wasn’t about her reasons so much as HIS track record:  they got too close, only to crash and burn.

Happened more times than he cared to remember.

Was it him?  Some kind of karmic foregone conclusion or something?  And how many times would it happen again before he finally learned?

Weighing the empty chainmail collar in his hands, he absent-mindedly turned it over and over, wondering which way he might turn next.


March 27, 2010

Copyright 2009.  No part of this work may be reproduced without the express written permission of the author.  E-mail:

Day one

8:00 am

I sat at my monitor, contrite, humbled, feeling lower than low…thinking about her, the sacrifices made – and ones about to be made.  I loved her – yes, this despite hating her expectations of me, wondering how I could ever live down the contrition.  Not easy for one such as I to lower myself as I’d been commanded, but hey: it was worth a try, right?

Yeah, just keep telling myself that and everything will be fine.

’cause, when I thought back to the time when things were better, that oh-so rare nethertwinge began firing my imagination, and I thought:  maybe.  Just maybe…if I played things right…

Finishing my drink and unzipping, I slipped myself out, semi-flaccid, and began stroking while I closed my eyes, thinking about her words and beginning my journey down memory lane…

‘Wow…first of all…you wrote of me…and wrote well of me…’

Stroking…stroking…imagining her standing over me, her long trusses caressing my shoulder as I sat, moved but unmoving apart from my stroking hand…

‘You are worried I will hurt you?  I…darling I am shocked in a way.  I’m worried about you hurting me…’

Funny thing for her to say that in retrospect, but there it was – and here “I” was.

…waiting…awaiting her command…awaiting a release that may not come and…just as I was hard…

I stopped.  As requested.  As commanded.

As demanded.

Opening my eyes, I tucked myself in, zipped up, and re-set the stopwatch.  Sighing heavily, I pondered my next course of action.

10:00 am

…times had been better, hadn’t they?  Oh, the nagging self-doubt; the insecurity – all kept creeping back.  Where was my effing spine?

I knew where it was – had presented it as an offering – prostrating myself in every which way – to what end, remained to be seen.  Had spent the last two hours puttering – not really concentrating on anything except the tasks upcoming; the ones she’d placed in my hands.  Not sure how I was gonna make it through the day, let alone an entire week, but time would tell.

Speaking of which, the stopwatch dinged, signalling that it was time to again take…things…in hand.

The day was sweltering, and my shorts needed to go the way of the tee I’d been wearing earlier.  Having decided to go commando in any case, it was simply a matter of dropping my drawers, and there I was, naked as the day I was born (give or take battle scars and body hair).  Something about being naked, kneeling in the living room, my already stiff shaft in hand, that excited me incredibly.  Perhaps I wouldn’t even need to think of her this time – just allow the sensation of hand against c*ck to run its course.

But then, like *cockwork*, thoughts of the things she’d said washed over me just as I closed my eyes.

‘I’ve thought of you all day…hell darling…before that…kept waiting on you…then I just went ahead and messaged you…

I am…my heart has been shattered before…I don’t know what I will do if it happens again…’

Fighting back the tears in the realization of how we’d gotten here, and what I’d done to effect things, I nonetheless maintained enough composure to keep composed.  If I didn’t squeeze too hard and avoided touching my glans, I could hold on longer, I discovered.  Anything it took to maintain control- at least of that part of me.

Certain other things – like emotions – weren’t quite as easy to control.

This was a difficult hour, thinking back to what she’d said.  How could I have hurt her – moreover, hurt her over and over again?  What kind of a sadist was I, anyway?

Truth was, NO hour was easy.  Was gonna be a long week…


‘…of course I am attracted to you…for many reasons…god…didn’t I drool enough over you pics?…I commented on many of them…of you…not your girls…’

Lunchtime had arrived, but before breaking to my repast, the deed was once again before me.  In the last hour, I simply couldn’t get her out of my head, so I’d remained stiff much of the time.

Being ‘au natural’ helped, too, a little.

I think you are outrageously handsome…from that wayward smirk to the scruffled hair…

Hadn’t it been kind of her to build my ego, like that?  Those were the days.  Alas…

‘… you..have a dark edge…that I crave…’

Dark edge?  Got that right.  The dark edge that finally overtook me – taking us both with it.

Standing at the sink in the kitchen, I stroked, harder and faster, getting ever closer to that ‘edge’…and then…

I stopped again.

2:00 pm

‘I tell you darling…I ..well..I’m probably a handful…”

Got that right.   But did I listen?  Even if I had, would it have mattered?  By now, I’d already fallen under her spell, and there was no turning back, it seemed…

Had to grip my glans at this point, placing a finger over the opening.  Oh, for just a brief moment of release!  Stop!


4:00 pm

‘…not playing a game..just…informing you…’

I needed rest, and had lain down but, just as I began dozing, the effing stop watch went off again.

‘I’m prone to mood swings…rain; makes me cry for god’s sake…I’m sensitive…I feel everything too much …which is great for pleasure…not so great for other things…’

I’d awakened with her words in mind again, reminders like needles in my scrotum, puncturing, piercing…prodding…if only I could’ve been her sunshine…find a way to burn off her inner precipitation…instead of merely adding to her angst.  Reaching down, I gave it the old college try once more…


‘Oh…lolol…the right man…I would have no qualms about him sinking his teeth into me to mark me as his…

The ‘right’ man, indeed.  The man with the golden gun.  The man of the hour.


I was hungry, but determined to finish the task before satisfying myself.  Why weren’t my thoughts cooperating?

‘I was a bit duplicitous in my desires…on the profile at least’

Perhaps that was why.  Duplicitous?  Got that right.  Yes, even at this early a stage, the writing was on the wall, wasn’t it?  Early warning signs; words to the wise – if only hindsight were 20/20!

8:00 pm

And then, just as I thought despair might overtake me completely, I recalled a poem she sent:


Hands stealing my breath

Raping air from the wealth of my lungs

Soft gasps spill

Blush pink lips tremble


Oh…gasps tighten

As hands while hands dig into flesh

Eyes flutter as breasts rise


Head swims





Falling into the depth of desire

Darkness encroaches

Hands dig deeper yet

Body now limp


Light moans escape the parting of my lips


Life and death in a dance



Darkness enraptures with its knowing touch

I lay in its embrace

Brought there by the strength

Of your


Imagining my hands around her throat was almost too much for me, as I attempted to tamp down my darker urges.  Would my cock be pumping her cunt, or ass?

Oh, sh*t…have…to…stopNOW

10:00 pm

She had questions – two-way communication!  Just one of the many things I’d loved about her.

‘Sadist…explain your version of that term.  ‘Is it pain just for pains sake?  Ir is it pain-laced pleasure?

She seemed genuinely interested, and curious.  I was impressed with that.

And then there was this gem:

‘Oh…and since you may be glum in the morning…here is a little gift for you…I can easily take a fist in my pussy…have fun with that one…

And, despite the arousal factor in her words, I was actually too tired to appreciate it.  Interesting.

Well, I’d made it through the day – not easily, but with sp*rm, still intact.

As for my dignity and pride?  Those were LONG gone…

Was gonna be a long week, indeed…

*Copyrighted – all rights reserved.

alternate sexuality

March 27, 2010

kinky words and images

Playing with fire (Part one)

March 27, 2010

Copyright 2008.  No part of this may be copied, edited, folded, spindled, or mutilated without the express written permission of the author.


She’d been informed of the damage that had been done, and was grateful it wasn’t worse.

“Wasn’t expecting you to respond quite so quickly, Dr. Wilson,” the nurse said as she wheeled the patient from the ER toward the recovery room.  “She’s sedated, so won’t be able to answer any questions for a few hours anyways.”

“That’s fine, Irene – I appreciate your having contacted me as soon as you did.”

Still somewhat shell-shocked from having been roused from a dead sleep, Dr. Kendra Wilson was nonetheless used to on-call situations, making a fast turnaround time – especially in circumstances like this.  There were advantages to Starbucks having set up shop in the foyer of the hospital, too.

“The man who brought her in – dunno if it’s her husband or what – he’s in the waiting room, if you want to speak to him.”

“Could you direct him to my office?” Dr. Wilson asked as they finished wheeling the patient in and set up the monitors.  “I just need a moment to check the patient’s vital signs.”

“Certainly, Doctor.”

Dr. Wilson offered a smile of thanks as Nurse Irene left and the door whooshed to silence behind her.  Taking a deep breath, Kendra rubbed her eyes before focusing on the woman who lay asleep in the bed before her.

In her practice as part of the on-call trauma response team, Dr. Kendra Wilson had been witness to some pretty heart-wrenching scenes, but every new incident somehow managed to revive things afresh.  Those who claimed exposure to violence desensitized people ought to spend a Friday night in the emergency ward of the MaterJesu Hospital and see if their beliefs changed.  And while Kendra was grateful her job no longer compelled her into the operating room, she knew from experience that healing psychological scars sometimes required far more effort than the physical body’s ability to mend itself.

And faceless inhumanity was one thing – doing violence to a stranger – but to inflict harm in the name of LOVE – or *sex*?  Kendra shook her head and attempted to maintain the distance necessary to get the job done.

Pulse – normal.  Vital signs – all checked out.  Sedation would also take the edge off the woman’s injuries, too – what was her name?  ‘Kim Enderby’, Dr. Wilson noted on her chart.  A woman who appeared to be in her late 30’s or early 40’s, in decent shape; a few tattoos.  No scars or wounds apart from …

Lifting up the sky blue blanket covering the patient’s body as she lay naked in a semi-fetal position, the first thing to catch Kendra’s eye were the nipple rings and chain strung between them.  Attached to the chain and resting on the mattress below Kim’s breasts was a tiny, white gold – bug, it looked like – some sort of winged insect.  It appeared to have a bit of blood on it, too, but there were no visible punctures on Kim’s skin.  Kendra carefully picked it up and examined it.

Passing strange.

The bandages covering Kim’s pelvic area and derriere swaddled like a diaper.  Gently lifting the tape, Kendra removed the bandage from Kim’s right hip, letting it fall onto the bed.  And while Dr. Wilson was relieved to see that the burn wasn’t visible on the periphery, that meant …

Carefully curling Kim’s leg up toward her chest and spreading her cheeks, Kendra’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the increased redness leading to where the burn was most evident: directly between the anus and vagina.  Her own nether region began to twitch and burn at the very sight of the patient’s scarring, and Dr. Wilson’s hand moved to her own pelvis reflexively.

How could someone do this?  What was worse, why would the patient have submitted ot it voluntarily?

Time to focus, Kendra thought.  Despite the obvious advantages for her profession, there were times when being an empath caused more grief than pleasure, and Kendra couldn’t help imagining what the burns felt like herself.  Closing her eyes and shutting those feelings off, she called forth her muse.  Reciting a healing incantation, one of Kendra’s hands rested on the patient’s hip while the other stayed between her own legs.

“May the Divine Goddess transfer her powers through me in order that you may heal,” she chanted, moving deeper inside herself with every iteration.

Surrender (Part two)

March 26, 2010

Copyright 2008.  No part of this may be copied, edited, folded, spindled, or mutilated without the express written permission of the author.


Two fingers, already in.  She gritted her teeth as he twisted.  Would the thumb come next?  Aah, shit!  Yes, accompanying the index and middle was now that notoriously large digit, fresh and wet from her dripping cunt.

At least it was well lubricated.

Oh, fuck…oh, fuck…Oh, FUCK!  Linz could barely stand…the pressure, the sensation…not pain, exactly, but – the absolute violation.  Curious that what she’d expected to be excruciating actually turned out to be…not so bad after all…hmm…

Oh god- the ring finger – but without a ring, of course.  He’d long ago abandoned that – particularly after his wife had discovered his infidelities and demanded he choose.

Her loss.  It truly was, but more importantly – it had been Linz’s gain, that was for sure.  Not that he came running exactly – or even demanded that she come running to Him.  But somehow, some way, after all the time they’d spent together – whether cyber or otherwise – their coming together like this seemed a foregone conclusion.  And come together they did, as surely as they were, skin to skin, at this very moment.

And losing the ‘ex’ certainly had made for ease of ring finger passage!  But why the FUCK had she agreed to this?

Good thing he’d pre-greased her with plenty of lube – ooh, that felt nice.  Yes, actually it had, Linz was surprised to admit.  Who woulda thunk something as dirty (and thereby potentially painful) could be so ultimately orgasmic?

Oh, the things she was learning.  The things Master was teaching her!

But…ooh, could she take any more?

“You doing all right?”

He really was a considerate Dom, all things considered.  Yes, he enjoyed bestowing pain on his sluts – YES, he liked things rough, even to the point of skin, split, but…he still had a WAY about him that, somehow, made things easier – made it such that any demand, no matter how scary-thrilling it sounded, wound up being more thrilling than scary.


So far.

…so good?

“Mmm…aah…” was all Linz was able to say in response.  Of COURSE it was intense; YES it skirted the edges of her tolerances, and yet…

There she was, taking it – LOVING it – thrilled to have the blindfold off so she could see his glans, throbbing in his delight at doing to her that which he so longed to do.

The fuck was wrong with her?

“If you can handle my fist,” he said, “you’ll have no trouble with my cock.”

How reassuring.

“Yes…Sir.”  Linz said, gasping in relief as her pucker briefly receded when he removed his hand from it.  And, although she knew her response was tantamount to giving permission, she really didn’t care at this point.

No, that’s not true – she DID care.

She just cared to give Master what he desired more than she cared about her own desires.

What was wrong with this picture?

Linz watched as M slowly slathered his cock in lube while smiling at her, his excitement clearly evident.

“Pucker up, love,” he said, positioning his glans at the crest of her rose and gently prodding inward.  ‘This won’t hurt me a bit.”