She was assigned to me.
"She wants it rough," they said.
"She wants you to use her," they commanded.
I was eager to obey.
I grabbed her by her blonde hair and she squealed in delight. I forced her head down to be level with my waist and I walked her to the corner. She shook with excitement. I shoved her into the corner and lurked over her. She glowed with anticipation.
I choked her and she smiled.
I ripped off her shirt and she moaned.
I tore off her panties and she opened her legs.
I slapped her face and she pouted.
I bit her nipples and she whined.
I slipped my fingers into her cunt and she protested.
"I'm not ready," she said. "I want a spanking. I want to be tied up. I want you to make me want it."
I heard everything she said. I bent her over till her head was in the corner. I put the lube on my cock. I entered her.
She cried out. Her fists hit the wall in annoyance. Her body squirmed with her tantrum.
"This is not how I wanted it!" she said.
I know. She wanted to be seduced with roughness. She wanted her will broken down with her permission. She wanted to be the architect of her distressful passion.
Instead, I used her.
.JPG)
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Post Virus Rambling
After two days of virus scanning, downloading virus scanners and reading 'The Ruins' while my computer virus scanned, my computer is finally back to normal. I found 316 infected files which made me happy that there really was a problem before I thought about how 316 files is a fucking lot of infected files.
Like I said, I was reading 'The Ruins' which was a pretty good horror book. It was mostly about people self destructing which I always find interesting, but it was also about a bunch of whiny characters who made me feel like Clint Eastwood because I wasn't whining incessantly about my computer. I mean shit, if I can keep it together while trojans are trying to kill my porn collection, surely Amy could shut the fuck up about a killer plant eating Pablo's legs, right?
I was so ready to reformat my hard drives. I had drafted elaborate plans where I was going to e-mail my self copies of my long story so they wouldn't be lost. I was ready to give up gigs of digital camera pictures I had taken. I was even ready to give up my music collection. I was cold like ice. So when Avast finally fixed the last issues of my computer, I let out a sigh of relief quickly followed by a strange feeling of loss. I was ready to amputate some limbs and now everything is okay and here's some new sneakers? My mental state is weird right now.
Speaking of which, I may start posting my long story next week. It's a summer story and I guess it should get out before the summer is over. It's 16 parts and has two main characters. My girlfriend has already given me the speech about not being devastated if my readers think it's stupid which I knew was a possibility when I started it. I mean, it's a 16 part sex story centered around a sport. I almost never see sex stories about sports. You have to wonder if there is a good reason for that.
That's enough rambling for now. Remember folks, back up your files regularly. Avast did a ten times better job than my expensive Norton Antivirus did. If you meet a fellow tourist who says his brother went to some archeological dig and he wants you to come along, just say no.
Like I said, I was reading 'The Ruins' which was a pretty good horror book. It was mostly about people self destructing which I always find interesting, but it was also about a bunch of whiny characters who made me feel like Clint Eastwood because I wasn't whining incessantly about my computer. I mean shit, if I can keep it together while trojans are trying to kill my porn collection, surely Amy could shut the fuck up about a killer plant eating Pablo's legs, right?
I was so ready to reformat my hard drives. I had drafted elaborate plans where I was going to e-mail my self copies of my long story so they wouldn't be lost. I was ready to give up gigs of digital camera pictures I had taken. I was even ready to give up my music collection. I was cold like ice. So when Avast finally fixed the last issues of my computer, I let out a sigh of relief quickly followed by a strange feeling of loss. I was ready to amputate some limbs and now everything is okay and here's some new sneakers? My mental state is weird right now.
Speaking of which, I may start posting my long story next week. It's a summer story and I guess it should get out before the summer is over. It's 16 parts and has two main characters. My girlfriend has already given me the speech about not being devastated if my readers think it's stupid which I knew was a possibility when I started it. I mean, it's a 16 part sex story centered around a sport. I almost never see sex stories about sports. You have to wonder if there is a good reason for that.
That's enough rambling for now. Remember folks, back up your files regularly. Avast did a ten times better job than my expensive Norton Antivirus did. If you meet a fellow tourist who says his brother went to some archeological dig and he wants you to come along, just say no.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Technical Poop
Long story short, my computer sucks this morning. Firefox won't even connect to half my websites while my girlfriend's computer has no troubles whatsoever. It's also slow as crap which has me thinking that maybe something is running inside that mysterious box that maybe shouldn't. The bad part about being a creative person is that your creativity does an awesome job of creating monstrous problems that may be inside your computer.
More Qualified Than Me People will be analyzing the computer soon. Until then, I think I am going to sit in a corner and act very brave.
More Qualified Than Me People will be analyzing the computer soon. Until then, I think I am going to sit in a corner and act very brave.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Your Favorite Russian Surf Band
The Red Elvises are one of those things that I completely irrational about. I love these guys and have all their albums. I listen to them when I am blue, when I am happy and when I just want to dance. I also think they make great music to listen to when you are rewriting stories, which is what I am doing today.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Fiction: Perks of the Collection
Claire Currie was on her knees. Her shirt was off, revealing heavy black breasts marked by frequent hand slaps. She clasped her hands behind her back and never moved them no matter how much her glasses were slipping down her nose. Although she was on her knees, her back was straight and her chin was up. Posture and dignity were very important.
Ever since she started working for the Collette-Ashbee Collection, she had spent a lot of time on her knees. She had also spent a lot of time being slapped, spanked, pinched, licked and penetrated. The greatest erotic collection of books requires the greatest erotic librarians.
As for her boss, Mr. Dillon, he requires a topless woman to kneel before him. As he as often said, being a libbrarian has it's perks. For Mr. Dillon, his perk was Claire.
He sat in front of her. His shirt was perfectly buttoned with a perfectly placed tie. His brown hair was cut down to a military shortness. In many ways he was the stereotypical appearance of a professional librarian except for one small detail. His cock was out of his pants, pointing upwards towards Claire. It was covered in her spit.
"Ms. Currie," Mr. Dillon said, for he always addressed her formally. "Name the three cities that the Collette-Ashbee Collection is held in."
Claire frowned. "Paris," she said first. That was the easy one. "ahh, Tokyo, and umm, that German place . . ."
She was still thinking of the name of the German city when Mr. Dillon struck her. His hand slapped downwards, striking her right breast above the nipple. She hissed in pain from the sharpness of his slap. Her thighs clenched in desire.
"Dresden is the 'German place' as you so inadequately described it," Mr. Dillon said. "Name the four writers that wrote the Secret Erotic History of Joan of Arc."
Claire closed her eyes. She had recently read the five volume series. Images of Joan's sexual rampage through Europe came to mind. The fact that it was all true still blew her mind. Where did the woman find the lubricant?
"Roux, Fournier, and ummmm-Ouch!"
Mr. Dillon's hand struck twice. Once on the left breast and once on the right breast. the heavy force of his slaps made her wobble but Claire stayed upright. She accepted her punishment with poise. The ache in her pussy grew.
"I should give you two more slaps for giving me only last names, but I am a generous man," Mr. Dillon said. "After this quiz, you'll write me a five page report on the four writers, as well as essay on how Joan was able to remain a virgin through out her debaucheries."
"Yes Mr. Dillon," she said. She didn't need to write it down. A couple of years on her knees had taught her how to remember commands for future reference.
"How many erotic books by Mark Twain are in the Collection? And name at least two of them."
Claire stared at her boss's erect cock. "We have six in the collection though we are still looking for an alleged seventh. One of the books is 'Jim's Adventures in Many Bedrooms'. Another book was 'A Mississippi Gambler in the Sultan's Harem'.
Mr. Dillon smiled. "Very good," he said. He nodded his head slightly.
Claire dipped her head forward. She opened her lips and took Mr. Dillon's cock into her mouth. She choked herself with her passion. She could feel her glasses slip down a little further. Her sore breasts pressed into his thighs as she took as much of him into her as possible. It didn't ease the relentless desire in her cunt, but the taste of his cock filled her spirit.
She licked as much as she could because she knew at any moment he might pull her away and there would be more questions. If she could make him climax, then the slapping would stop and maybe other rewards would follow. Or maybe other punishments. The uncertainty made her heart race and her mouth water.
For Claire, her perk was Mr. Dillon.
Ever since she started working for the Collette-Ashbee Collection, she had spent a lot of time on her knees. She had also spent a lot of time being slapped, spanked, pinched, licked and penetrated. The greatest erotic collection of books requires the greatest erotic librarians.
As for her boss, Mr. Dillon, he requires a topless woman to kneel before him. As he as often said, being a libbrarian has it's perks. For Mr. Dillon, his perk was Claire.
He sat in front of her. His shirt was perfectly buttoned with a perfectly placed tie. His brown hair was cut down to a military shortness. In many ways he was the stereotypical appearance of a professional librarian except for one small detail. His cock was out of his pants, pointing upwards towards Claire. It was covered in her spit.
"Ms. Currie," Mr. Dillon said, for he always addressed her formally. "Name the three cities that the Collette-Ashbee Collection is held in."
Claire frowned. "Paris," she said first. That was the easy one. "ahh, Tokyo, and umm, that German place . . ."
She was still thinking of the name of the German city when Mr. Dillon struck her. His hand slapped downwards, striking her right breast above the nipple. She hissed in pain from the sharpness of his slap. Her thighs clenched in desire.
"Dresden is the 'German place' as you so inadequately described it," Mr. Dillon said. "Name the four writers that wrote the Secret Erotic History of Joan of Arc."
Claire closed her eyes. She had recently read the five volume series. Images of Joan's sexual rampage through Europe came to mind. The fact that it was all true still blew her mind. Where did the woman find the lubricant?
"Roux, Fournier, and ummmm-Ouch!"
Mr. Dillon's hand struck twice. Once on the left breast and once on the right breast. the heavy force of his slaps made her wobble but Claire stayed upright. She accepted her punishment with poise. The ache in her pussy grew.
"I should give you two more slaps for giving me only last names, but I am a generous man," Mr. Dillon said. "After this quiz, you'll write me a five page report on the four writers, as well as essay on how Joan was able to remain a virgin through out her debaucheries."
"Yes Mr. Dillon," she said. She didn't need to write it down. A couple of years on her knees had taught her how to remember commands for future reference.
"How many erotic books by Mark Twain are in the Collection? And name at least two of them."
Claire stared at her boss's erect cock. "We have six in the collection though we are still looking for an alleged seventh. One of the books is 'Jim's Adventures in Many Bedrooms'. Another book was 'A Mississippi Gambler in the Sultan's Harem'.
Mr. Dillon smiled. "Very good," he said. He nodded his head slightly.
Claire dipped her head forward. She opened her lips and took Mr. Dillon's cock into her mouth. She choked herself with her passion. She could feel her glasses slip down a little further. Her sore breasts pressed into his thighs as she took as much of him into her as possible. It didn't ease the relentless desire in her cunt, but the taste of his cock filled her spirit.
She licked as much as she could because she knew at any moment he might pull her away and there would be more questions. If she could make him climax, then the slapping would stop and maybe other rewards would follow. Or maybe other punishments. The uncertainty made her heart race and her mouth water.
For Claire, her perk was Mr. Dillon.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Fiction: Peer Review
"Julie, your paper is next," Professor Strick said. He put the first page on the overhead projector.
Julie trembled with excitement. She was also trembling because she wasn't wearing anything below her waist. According to the rules of Professor Strict's study group, Julie was wearing a nice sweater, professional heels and not much else. The young college student took her place on the bench. She bent over with her ass elevated a foot above her head.
"I hope he likes it," she thought. Students always wanted to impress Professor Strict.
"Professor!" a student called out. Julie recognized the voice. It was that nerd, Darrel.
"On the third paragraph, the word believe is misspelled," Darrel said.
"Correct," Professor Strict said. He used a marker to make the correction on her paper. "Administer the reminder, Darrel."
Julie could hear Darrel's excited steps as he came closer. She heard the riding crop being picked up. She heard the whistle of air as Darrel swung with all his might at her ass. She felt the crop land, stinging her ass like a bee.
"Professor," a girl called out. "There is extra spacing on the next to the last line in the sixth paragraph!"
Oh, how Julie hated that bitch, Natalie. She had eyes like a hawk and she swung the crop almost as well as Professor Strict. It was little wonder, considering how much practice Natalie got from finding other's mistakes.
"Correct," the Professor said. "Since there are two extra spaces, administer two reminders."
Julie clenched her eyes. She didn't know what was worse: the crop or the merciless red circles Professor used to mark her paper. She was always trying to impress him but she always seemed to fall short.
WHAP! WHAP! Julie clenched the handles of the bench. She decided the pain was the worse part.
"Any other errors?" the Professor called out.
Julie held her breath. There was no answers.
Professor Strict sighed. He started making circles on the paper. "I have found seven extra commas that were not needed."
Julie moaned. Seven? Holy shit, that was going to hurt. There was one good thing though. It meant Professor Strict would administer the reminders personally.
She did her best not to wiggle in anticipation.
Julie trembled with excitement. She was also trembling because she wasn't wearing anything below her waist. According to the rules of Professor Strict's study group, Julie was wearing a nice sweater, professional heels and not much else. The young college student took her place on the bench. She bent over with her ass elevated a foot above her head.
"I hope he likes it," she thought. Students always wanted to impress Professor Strict.
"Professor!" a student called out. Julie recognized the voice. It was that nerd, Darrel.
"On the third paragraph, the word believe is misspelled," Darrel said.
"Correct," Professor Strict said. He used a marker to make the correction on her paper. "Administer the reminder, Darrel."
Julie could hear Darrel's excited steps as he came closer. She heard the riding crop being picked up. She heard the whistle of air as Darrel swung with all his might at her ass. She felt the crop land, stinging her ass like a bee.
"Professor," a girl called out. "There is extra spacing on the next to the last line in the sixth paragraph!"
Oh, how Julie hated that bitch, Natalie. She had eyes like a hawk and she swung the crop almost as well as Professor Strict. It was little wonder, considering how much practice Natalie got from finding other's mistakes.
"Correct," the Professor said. "Since there are two extra spaces, administer two reminders."
Julie clenched her eyes. She didn't know what was worse: the crop or the merciless red circles Professor used to mark her paper. She was always trying to impress him but she always seemed to fall short.
WHAP! WHAP! Julie clenched the handles of the bench. She decided the pain was the worse part.
"Any other errors?" the Professor called out.
Julie held her breath. There was no answers.
Professor Strict sighed. He started making circles on the paper. "I have found seven extra commas that were not needed."
Julie moaned. Seven? Holy shit, that was going to hurt. There was one good thing though. It meant Professor Strict would administer the reminders personally.
She did her best not to wiggle in anticipation.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Fiction: Sacrifice
There is power in a sacrifice. The Greeks knew that a bull drained of blood would ensure victory in battle. The Chinese would bind a young girl and toss her to the Yellow River to protect their crops. The Aztecs would bleed anything that walked in order to make the sun rise again. Every race upon the earth has used sacrifice to bring them power. Every one who has touched magic knows it requires an offering.
Catalina took off her clothes. She worked slowly, removing one layer of cloth at a time. Piece by piece, she revealed her heavy dark breasts, her long limber legs, her smooth belly and the tangled hair of her bush. A silver hairpin kept her long black hair back and away from her face.
English sailors would sacrifice their shoes to the water when there has been no wind for days.
Catalina dipped her fingers in the purple paint. She drew a star over her right nipple. Over her left nipple, she drew a crescent moon. On her belly she finger painted a cup. On each thigh she painted a spear stabbing down. The paint sparkled in the fading sunlight.
A tribe in Africa would sacrifice their fastest boys to the earth so that their crops would grow fast as well.
The floor had three anchor points. Catalina fastened a chain to each point. At the end of the chain was a leather band. First she tightened the bands to her ankles so that she could not move her feet. The third band she fastened around her neck. The shortness of the chain meant she had to crouch down on her hands and feet. Her breasts hung forward while her sex hovered nearly a foot off the ground. For this ceremony, her hands would remain free.
In Haiti, cigars and rum are sacrificed to the gods for protection and good luck.
The dildo was new, as it always should be. Catalina held the base on the ground so that the tip would point towards her sex. She lowered herself ever so slowly. The dildo entered and filled her. She held onto the base as her legs lifted her back up. In this awkward manner, she fucked herself.
On Wall Street, brokers sacrifice their client's investments to the gods of commerce.
Catalina chanted the names of those who aroused her. She spoke the names of celebrities, friends she had crushes on, fictional characters that aroused her and lovers she had known. Their names fell from her lips as she continued to hump the dildo. Her moans interrupted the litany of names but she kept speaking them.
In Russia, wise people would sacrifice chickens to their spiritual grandmother who rides a flying pestle.
The climax came close. Catalina looked up. In front of her was a full length mirror. She saw herself, nude and painted. She saw herself as something beautiful. She saw herself as something sexual and desirable.
In Ireland, a saucer of milk is left out at night to appease little men.
Catalina looked herself in the eyes. She looked at the beautiful thing that was being offered. She humped faster until she climaxed. Catalina screamed her acceptance.
The Voluptumancer was an offering of herself to herself.
Catalina took off her clothes. She worked slowly, removing one layer of cloth at a time. Piece by piece, she revealed her heavy dark breasts, her long limber legs, her smooth belly and the tangled hair of her bush. A silver hairpin kept her long black hair back and away from her face.
English sailors would sacrifice their shoes to the water when there has been no wind for days.
Catalina dipped her fingers in the purple paint. She drew a star over her right nipple. Over her left nipple, she drew a crescent moon. On her belly she finger painted a cup. On each thigh she painted a spear stabbing down. The paint sparkled in the fading sunlight.
A tribe in Africa would sacrifice their fastest boys to the earth so that their crops would grow fast as well.
The floor had three anchor points. Catalina fastened a chain to each point. At the end of the chain was a leather band. First she tightened the bands to her ankles so that she could not move her feet. The third band she fastened around her neck. The shortness of the chain meant she had to crouch down on her hands and feet. Her breasts hung forward while her sex hovered nearly a foot off the ground. For this ceremony, her hands would remain free.
In Haiti, cigars and rum are sacrificed to the gods for protection and good luck.
The dildo was new, as it always should be. Catalina held the base on the ground so that the tip would point towards her sex. She lowered herself ever so slowly. The dildo entered and filled her. She held onto the base as her legs lifted her back up. In this awkward manner, she fucked herself.
On Wall Street, brokers sacrifice their client's investments to the gods of commerce.
Catalina chanted the names of those who aroused her. She spoke the names of celebrities, friends she had crushes on, fictional characters that aroused her and lovers she had known. Their names fell from her lips as she continued to hump the dildo. Her moans interrupted the litany of names but she kept speaking them.
In Russia, wise people would sacrifice chickens to their spiritual grandmother who rides a flying pestle.
The climax came close. Catalina looked up. In front of her was a full length mirror. She saw herself, nude and painted. She saw herself as something beautiful. She saw herself as something sexual and desirable.
In Ireland, a saucer of milk is left out at night to appease little men.
Catalina looked herself in the eyes. She looked at the beautiful thing that was being offered. She humped faster until she climaxed. Catalina screamed her acceptance.
The Voluptumancer was an offering of herself to herself.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Fiction: Violent Dialling
Diana Moon was in deep shit.
She was supposed to break into the warehouse owned by the members of Clean Hearts Under Rapturous Christ's Hierarchy and do some basic sabotage of their literature. C.H.U.R.C.H. had been distributing threatening pamphlets to pharmacies, teachers and librarians. Most groups just suggest that damnation might be the final reward of sinners, but these fliers have been explaining how an exploding car or maybe a sniper bullet was a more immediate concern. Diana's superiors decided that maybe it would be best if such threatening literature never made it out of the warehouse.
The midnight break-in was a low risk operation with only one security guard expected. For such a simple operation, Diana only brought a pistol and fantastic low cut black catsuit. In Diana's experience, cleavage was all you really needed to get by a guard these days. She figured that a little tit would get her in, a kick to the back of the head and an act of arson later and she would be on to her next mission.
What she found was a damn militia group using the warehouse as a late night training course. The pamphlets were apparently just the first warning meant to be followed up by full blown hit squads. The crazy religious militants had made a mock up of a local abortion clinic and apparently practiced full blown military raids every night. The bastards were packing assault rifles, night vision goggles and a lot of really bad haircuts.
They were practicing one of their bombing drills when Diana walked right into the warehouse. Forty armed nutjobs shit their pants and then decided to open fire on the unknown person. In her dark clothes, they probably assumed she was an ATF agent. Diana cursed her luck as she took cover behind a school bus.
Things looked really bleak. Diana considered her options. She could call in reinforcements but the thing about belonging to a secret organization dedicated to combating censorship and over bearing morality groups is that you have to keep it a secret. That means getting in and out with a minimum of violence and publicity. A hastily assembled squad of killer women in the sexiest spy fetish wear ever would sort of give that secret away.
A ripple of gunfire shot up a poor mannequin near the bus.
"Fuck," Diana said. She took out her cell phone and dialled a number she had saved for an emergency like this.
"Hello?" a sleep voice answered.
"Jeffery Stillmann?" Diana said.
"Yeah," the voice said. "Who is this? And why are you calling me at 2 in the morning?"
"Jeffery, you might not remember me, but we went to High School together. We sat together in Senior English. This is Diana."
"Diana?" Jeffery said. "Holy shit. It's been what, close to 20 years? Wait, was that gun fire?"
"Yeah but they are really shitty shots," Diana said. "The thing is, do you remember me? I had long black hair and I was kind of flat chested. I didn't get my tits till I was twenty fucking three."
"I remember you," he said. "I mean, I know we didn't talk much but we sat right next to each other, right? You always had really pretty hair."
"Aww, you do remember," Diana said.
All of the glass on the bus blew out from the grenade that was tossed in. Diana ran from the cover of the bus and dived behind some sandbags. She shot at a sniper and put a bullet in his forehead.
"I'm sorry Jeffery, did you say something?"
"Diana, are you in trouble? Should I be calling 911?"
"Of course not silly," Diana said. "Besides, I'm four states away. That's sweet of you to offer."
There was a pause on the line. "Diana, how the Hell did you get my number?"
Diana squeezed off a shot and hit an older lady in the leg. Predictably, the other militia people wasted time taking care of their wounded.
"Look Jeffery," Diana said. "I had the biggest crush on you, alright? I wanted to kiss you, hold your hand and go to the prom with you. But I never said anything and you were always trying to get into that bitch Cindy Bolden''s pants. I went to college, got recruited by a secret agency and long story short, I run missions and get shot at a lot."
"Are you a terrorist?" Jeffery asked.
"I prefer erotic freedom fighter," Diana said. She started crawling towards a row of boxes.
"The thing is Jeffery," Diana continued. "I tracked your number down a few years ago just for an emergency like this. Jeffery, I need you to tell me about your cock."
"What?" he said.
"Jeffery, I was barely sixteen and I was masturbating to fantasies about you every night. I thought about sucking your cock, holding your cock and fucking your cock. Your cock was all I lived for when I was in high school, okay? I never saw your cock but it was my favorite cock. You understand that?"
"Wow," Jeffery said.
"Yeah, so listen up Jeffery," she said. "I'm hiding behind a box of flammable pamphlets. In a minute, I am going to set fire to this box and try to make a run for it. I count over thirty heavily armed psychos gunning for me. This might be my last fucking night on earth so if it is not too much trouble, could you please tell me what your cock looks like? I think I have a right to know."
There was a long pause. "Well, it's about seven inches. Umm, I lean a little to the left."
"Really?" Diana said. "This is good to know. What about pubic hair?"
"Yeah, it's brown. Really curly. I try to trim it you know. My ex-wife used to complain about it."
"A little hair is okay," Diana said. "Any moles or birthmarks?"
"I do have a little brown spot right below the head," he said. "It's more of a birthmark I guess. Want to know anything else?"
"No, I think it's time I made my mistake," Diana said. "Thanks a lot Jeffery, that really meant a lot to me."
"Sure," he said. "Hey umm, are you sure there's nothing I can't do to help?"
"Jeffery if I get out of this, I am flying to your house and I'm going to give you a blowjob."
"Wow, umm, okay."
Diana hung up. She peeked out at the armed people who were looking for her. She didn't see them as insurmountable obstacles anymore. She saw them as the fuckers who were cockblocking her date with Jeffery.
They never stood a chance.
She was supposed to break into the warehouse owned by the members of Clean Hearts Under Rapturous Christ's Hierarchy and do some basic sabotage of their literature. C.H.U.R.C.H. had been distributing threatening pamphlets to pharmacies, teachers and librarians. Most groups just suggest that damnation might be the final reward of sinners, but these fliers have been explaining how an exploding car or maybe a sniper bullet was a more immediate concern. Diana's superiors decided that maybe it would be best if such threatening literature never made it out of the warehouse.
The midnight break-in was a low risk operation with only one security guard expected. For such a simple operation, Diana only brought a pistol and fantastic low cut black catsuit. In Diana's experience, cleavage was all you really needed to get by a guard these days. She figured that a little tit would get her in, a kick to the back of the head and an act of arson later and she would be on to her next mission.
What she found was a damn militia group using the warehouse as a late night training course. The pamphlets were apparently just the first warning meant to be followed up by full blown hit squads. The crazy religious militants had made a mock up of a local abortion clinic and apparently practiced full blown military raids every night. The bastards were packing assault rifles, night vision goggles and a lot of really bad haircuts.
They were practicing one of their bombing drills when Diana walked right into the warehouse. Forty armed nutjobs shit their pants and then decided to open fire on the unknown person. In her dark clothes, they probably assumed she was an ATF agent. Diana cursed her luck as she took cover behind a school bus.
Things looked really bleak. Diana considered her options. She could call in reinforcements but the thing about belonging to a secret organization dedicated to combating censorship and over bearing morality groups is that you have to keep it a secret. That means getting in and out with a minimum of violence and publicity. A hastily assembled squad of killer women in the sexiest spy fetish wear ever would sort of give that secret away.
A ripple of gunfire shot up a poor mannequin near the bus.
"Fuck," Diana said. She took out her cell phone and dialled a number she had saved for an emergency like this.
"Hello?" a sleep voice answered.
"Jeffery Stillmann?" Diana said.
"Yeah," the voice said. "Who is this? And why are you calling me at 2 in the morning?"
"Jeffery, you might not remember me, but we went to High School together. We sat together in Senior English. This is Diana."
"Diana?" Jeffery said. "Holy shit. It's been what, close to 20 years? Wait, was that gun fire?"
"Yeah but they are really shitty shots," Diana said. "The thing is, do you remember me? I had long black hair and I was kind of flat chested. I didn't get my tits till I was twenty fucking three."
"I remember you," he said. "I mean, I know we didn't talk much but we sat right next to each other, right? You always had really pretty hair."
"Aww, you do remember," Diana said.
All of the glass on the bus blew out from the grenade that was tossed in. Diana ran from the cover of the bus and dived behind some sandbags. She shot at a sniper and put a bullet in his forehead.
"I'm sorry Jeffery, did you say something?"
"Diana, are you in trouble? Should I be calling 911?"
"Of course not silly," Diana said. "Besides, I'm four states away. That's sweet of you to offer."
There was a pause on the line. "Diana, how the Hell did you get my number?"
Diana squeezed off a shot and hit an older lady in the leg. Predictably, the other militia people wasted time taking care of their wounded.
"Look Jeffery," Diana said. "I had the biggest crush on you, alright? I wanted to kiss you, hold your hand and go to the prom with you. But I never said anything and you were always trying to get into that bitch Cindy Bolden''s pants. I went to college, got recruited by a secret agency and long story short, I run missions and get shot at a lot."
"Are you a terrorist?" Jeffery asked.
"I prefer erotic freedom fighter," Diana said. She started crawling towards a row of boxes.
"The thing is Jeffery," Diana continued. "I tracked your number down a few years ago just for an emergency like this. Jeffery, I need you to tell me about your cock."
"What?" he said.
"Jeffery, I was barely sixteen and I was masturbating to fantasies about you every night. I thought about sucking your cock, holding your cock and fucking your cock. Your cock was all I lived for when I was in high school, okay? I never saw your cock but it was my favorite cock. You understand that?"
"Wow," Jeffery said.
"Yeah, so listen up Jeffery," she said. "I'm hiding behind a box of flammable pamphlets. In a minute, I am going to set fire to this box and try to make a run for it. I count over thirty heavily armed psychos gunning for me. This might be my last fucking night on earth so if it is not too much trouble, could you please tell me what your cock looks like? I think I have a right to know."
There was a long pause. "Well, it's about seven inches. Umm, I lean a little to the left."
"Really?" Diana said. "This is good to know. What about pubic hair?"
"Yeah, it's brown. Really curly. I try to trim it you know. My ex-wife used to complain about it."
"A little hair is okay," Diana said. "Any moles or birthmarks?"
"I do have a little brown spot right below the head," he said. "It's more of a birthmark I guess. Want to know anything else?"
"No, I think it's time I made my mistake," Diana said. "Thanks a lot Jeffery, that really meant a lot to me."
"Sure," he said. "Hey umm, are you sure there's nothing I can't do to help?"
"Jeffery if I get out of this, I am flying to your house and I'm going to give you a blowjob."
"Wow, umm, okay."
Diana hung up. She peeked out at the armed people who were looking for her. She didn't see them as insurmountable obstacles anymore. She saw them as the fuckers who were cockblocking her date with Jeffery.
They never stood a chance.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Fiction: Boys and Their Toys
"Dr. Von Madd, it's about time you fucking showed up."
Otto Von Madd nodded to General Fite. They were standing outside in the desert in the incredibly secret military testing site know only as Area 23. Dr. Von Madd starred at the giant thing that was stomping it's way towards the base.
"I came as soon as I received your request," Dr. Von Madd said. "The military has been very generous with providing testing for my Intelligent Condoms and I never forget a favor. I take it that this has something to do with that giant admonition of nature you have out there?"
The ground shook. The terrible monster consisted of three appendages. Two of the limbs appeared to be rudimentary legs, while the third appendage was just a giant swinging mass. It was only when the wind brought the unmistakable stench of ball sweat that Dr. Von Madd knew what he was dealing with.
"By Kinsley," he swore. "You bastards finally made it. You created fucking Cockzilla."
The giant beast swung it's cock at a passing helicopter. The helicopter exploded. The cock was not only unhurt, but it appeared to grow more rigid.
"Cockzilla is the most aggressive soldier the Army could create," General Fite said. "All cock and no brains, like my old drill sergeant. It's an killing machine, designing for walking and kicking ass. God damn, I'm getting a fucking hard on just looking at it."
Dr. Von Madd nodded. "That certainly provides data for my theory about homosexual tendencies in the upper command of the military, but what do you need me for?"
General Fite ripped off his stylish military sunglasses. "Look at it! The damn thing won't sit still. It wrecked the underground lab it was born in, wacked it's way through America's finest and is now rampaging across the damn desert. We need to stop this thing before it shoots it's load on a civilian."
Dr Von Madd, sexual mad scientist considered the problem.
"Get some firefighter helicopters to drop cold lake water on it." he said.
Cockzilla swung it's massive erection and crushed a tank into the sand.
"That would work?" General Fite said.
"It'll disarm the beast," Dr. Otto Von Madd said. "Once it is weakened and confused, you can subdue it and ship it off to that island where you dump all the other freaks you guys make. Which reminds me, have you ever considered that when the government has set aside an entire secret island to hold their crimes against nature, that maybe it is time to stop making things like Cockzilla?"
"Bah," General Fite said. "You can't make an omelet without breaking a few chickens. But getting back to the monster, what the fuck is going to keep it on the island? It could just swim right back to the mainland."
Dr. Otto Von Madd smiled. "Well we better be sure we have a giant Vagina Monster waiting for it."
"Where the fuck are we going to get one?" General Fite said.
Dr. Von Madd shrugged. "I'll make one on the flight over. I've been thinking about the possibility lately."
General Fite stared at him.
"What?" Dr. Von Madd said. "Look, you guys created a giant cock monster. I'm the weird one for thinking about giant pussies?"
Otto Von Madd nodded to General Fite. They were standing outside in the desert in the incredibly secret military testing site know only as Area 23. Dr. Von Madd starred at the giant thing that was stomping it's way towards the base.
"I came as soon as I received your request," Dr. Von Madd said. "The military has been very generous with providing testing for my Intelligent Condoms and I never forget a favor. I take it that this has something to do with that giant admonition of nature you have out there?"
The ground shook. The terrible monster consisted of three appendages. Two of the limbs appeared to be rudimentary legs, while the third appendage was just a giant swinging mass. It was only when the wind brought the unmistakable stench of ball sweat that Dr. Von Madd knew what he was dealing with.
"By Kinsley," he swore. "You bastards finally made it. You created fucking Cockzilla."
The giant beast swung it's cock at a passing helicopter. The helicopter exploded. The cock was not only unhurt, but it appeared to grow more rigid.
"Cockzilla is the most aggressive soldier the Army could create," General Fite said. "All cock and no brains, like my old drill sergeant. It's an killing machine, designing for walking and kicking ass. God damn, I'm getting a fucking hard on just looking at it."
Dr. Von Madd nodded. "That certainly provides data for my theory about homosexual tendencies in the upper command of the military, but what do you need me for?"
General Fite ripped off his stylish military sunglasses. "Look at it! The damn thing won't sit still. It wrecked the underground lab it was born in, wacked it's way through America's finest and is now rampaging across the damn desert. We need to stop this thing before it shoots it's load on a civilian."
Dr Von Madd, sexual mad scientist considered the problem.
"Get some firefighter helicopters to drop cold lake water on it." he said.
Cockzilla swung it's massive erection and crushed a tank into the sand.
"That would work?" General Fite said.
"It'll disarm the beast," Dr. Otto Von Madd said. "Once it is weakened and confused, you can subdue it and ship it off to that island where you dump all the other freaks you guys make. Which reminds me, have you ever considered that when the government has set aside an entire secret island to hold their crimes against nature, that maybe it is time to stop making things like Cockzilla?"
"Bah," General Fite said. "You can't make an omelet without breaking a few chickens. But getting back to the monster, what the fuck is going to keep it on the island? It could just swim right back to the mainland."
Dr. Otto Von Madd smiled. "Well we better be sure we have a giant Vagina Monster waiting for it."
"Where the fuck are we going to get one?" General Fite said.
Dr. Von Madd shrugged. "I'll make one on the flight over. I've been thinking about the possibility lately."
General Fite stared at him.
"What?" Dr. Von Madd said. "Look, you guys created a giant cock monster. I'm the weird one for thinking about giant pussies?"
Friday, July 18, 2008
Fiction: Pull
I tug her leash. She leans away from the chain that holds her collar, using her entire weight to fight my pull. Her bare feet scrape against the hardwood floor but she can't gain any traction. She grabs the chain and tries to pull but my strength is so much greater than hers.
Step by resisting step she comes closer to me. Her naked breasts jiggle from her struggles. Her long hair whips around as she shakes her head in denial. The muscles on her legs bulge as she tries to stand her ground.
I keep pulling her leash. As her physical fight becomes more hopeless, she resorts to other tactics. She whines. She begs. She offers her friends and her loved ones. When all else fails, she curses me.
The leash grows shorter as I wrap the end around my arm. Her struggles turn to panic. She knows what I will do to her. She knows how I will use her mouth. She knows what distress waits for her breasts, ass and cunt. She knows that I will mount, fuck, ride and posses her. She knows my appetites. She knows where I will come on her. She knows what will happen when there is no more leash between us.
I pull her to me. She hates me for the things I do to her. She hates herself for enjoying it so much.
She is my collared slut.
Step by resisting step she comes closer to me. Her naked breasts jiggle from her struggles. Her long hair whips around as she shakes her head in denial. The muscles on her legs bulge as she tries to stand her ground.
I keep pulling her leash. As her physical fight becomes more hopeless, she resorts to other tactics. She whines. She begs. She offers her friends and her loved ones. When all else fails, she curses me.
The leash grows shorter as I wrap the end around my arm. Her struggles turn to panic. She knows what I will do to her. She knows how I will use her mouth. She knows what distress waits for her breasts, ass and cunt. She knows that I will mount, fuck, ride and posses her. She knows my appetites. She knows where I will come on her. She knows what will happen when there is no more leash between us.
I pull her to me. She hates me for the things I do to her. She hates herself for enjoying it so much.
She is my collared slut.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Fiction: Last Lesson
Catalina sat in the empty class room. The heat and humidity sealed her white cotton clothes to her dark skin. Whatever part of her skin that wasn’t covered in cloth was covered in sweat. It was the middle of July and the school saw no reason to run air conditioners when there were no students.
But there was one student. He wasn’t on the rolls or in any school records, but he was still here. Girls complained of hearing a male giggle in the bathrooms. Teachers sometimes counted an extra student who wasn’t there for the second count. Janitors found notebooks filled with bad poetry that would disappear when shown to another person.
This school was haunted and Catalina was here to put an end to it. If your home is haunted by demons, you call an exorcist. If a hospital is haunted by a confused soul, you call a witch. When a school is haunted by a horny teenage spirit, you call a Voluptumancer.
To read more, click Whole Post
Catalina had been waiting for three hours this morning but she had not felt the presence yet. That was okay. She needed the sweat. When every part of her body was glistening, Catalina stood up and walked to the front of the empty class. Now the real magic could begin.
She picked up a piece of purple chalk and began to write.
‘SEX EDUCATION’ she wrote in big bold letters.
She heard a chair slide behind her. Catalina didn’t look. She knew her white dress was almost transparent against her dark ass. Her bare back shined with sweat. Her curly black hair fell on her shoulders, teasing with flashes of her bare shoulder. Behind her is exactly where she wanted him.
Catalina kept writing. She used large letters and made sure to sway her hips as she moved. Words of power filled the chalkboard; NIPPLES, CLITORIS, VAGINA, ORAL, INTERCOURSE and others.
Behind Catalina, she heard the scribbling of a pencil. She could feel the poetry being written. It was like a lover’s whisper on her neck.
Catalina began to sketch a woman’s body on the chalkboard. “Today’s lesson is about sex education. We will be discussing erogenous zones. Does any one know what that is?”
There was no answer. She kept drawing with the purple chalk.
“Erogenous zones are places on the body that sexually stimulate a person. On every person the zones are different but there are some common zones. For example, on a woman these zones can be on the breasts, on the buttocks or on the lips. Can any one name another zone?”
There was no answer. Catalina drew nipples on the body she had drawn.
“For some women, their nipples can be very sensitive. Pinching, biting or kissing can cause a woman’s erogenous zones to become very sensitive. Can any one name another method of stimulating a nipple?”
“Pulling?” a voice offered.
Catalina turned around. Sitting in the back of the class was a boy. He might have been sixteen. His blonde hair was spiky and he had the small beginnings of a mustache on his face. A red notebook sat in front of him.
“Very good,” Catalina said. She walked away from the chalkboard and sat on the teacher’s table. Her feet dangled in front of her. She braced her arms to either side of her and leaned slightly forward so that her deep cleavage would catch his eyes.
“When the nipples are stimulated,” Catalina continued, “the vagina becomes damp. This helps lubricate the vagina for sex. This is why seduction is so important in sexual relations. Only with arousal can sex occur in a pleasurable manner.”
The boy had stopped writing. He just watched, mesmerized.
“Have you ever pulled a nipple?” she asked.
The boy blushed. “No,” he weakly said.
“It’s alright,” she said. “It is not a race. Come here and we’ll further your education.”
He moved slowly. Catalina stayed perfectly still as he came closer. The chill of the grave preceded him but he had the scared blue eyes of a young man. She could be brave for him.
When he was in front of her, Catalina lifted her skirt. Underneath she wore nothing except the dark bush of hair that covered her sex. She reached down and parted her lips.
“As you can see, I am currently unaroused,” she said. “Can you see?”
He looked down at her and nodded. The boy kept licking his lips.
Catalina reached up for her breast with one hand, while still opening her sex with the other hand. She pulled her heavy breast out of her dress top. The dark breast with the chocolate colored nipple laid in her hand.
“Pull my nipple,” she said.
The boy pulled. Cold fingers grabbed her nipple and pulled.
Catalina moaned. “Now pinch it.”
The boy pinched her nipple. His chewed fingernails cut into her.
Catalina groaned. “Now squeeze my breast.”
The boy put his hand awkwardly on her breast. He trembled as he felt the weight, the warmth and the softness of it all. He squeezed. His hand clenched around her breast with the eagerness of youth.
Catalina stroked herself. “Now kiss my breast.”
The boy licked his lips. He bent down and kissed her breast. It felt like ice on her sweaty breast.
Catalina used both hands to spread her pussy. “Now look at how aroused you made me.”
The boy looked down. A smile broke his pale face. His scared blue eyes changed to laughter. He looked back up at Catalina’s breast and then her face.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Thank you, Keith Carter,” Catalina said. “That was wonderful.”
Keith smiled. “I have never touched a breast before,” he said.
“You have now,” Catalina said. “How are you feeling?”
He touched her breast again. “I feel lighter for some reason. Why is that?”
“Desire can empower us, it can encourage us and sometimes it can anchor us,” Catalina said. “I think when you were in that car accident, you had one desire left that was keeping you here.”
Keith smiled. “I never thought of it tha-“
He vanished. Catalina got down from the table and put her breast back into her dress. She was about to leave when she noticed a notebook sitting on the table top. She picked it up and flipped to the last page written.
The Voluptumancer blushed at the dirty poem she found inside. She laughed at the raw rhymes that only a teenager could write. The book faded in seconds, but the words stayed with her forever.
The end.
But there was one student. He wasn’t on the rolls or in any school records, but he was still here. Girls complained of hearing a male giggle in the bathrooms. Teachers sometimes counted an extra student who wasn’t there for the second count. Janitors found notebooks filled with bad poetry that would disappear when shown to another person.
This school was haunted and Catalina was here to put an end to it. If your home is haunted by demons, you call an exorcist. If a hospital is haunted by a confused soul, you call a witch. When a school is haunted by a horny teenage spirit, you call a Voluptumancer.
To read more, click Whole Post
Catalina had been waiting for three hours this morning but she had not felt the presence yet. That was okay. She needed the sweat. When every part of her body was glistening, Catalina stood up and walked to the front of the empty class. Now the real magic could begin.
She picked up a piece of purple chalk and began to write.
‘SEX EDUCATION’ she wrote in big bold letters.
She heard a chair slide behind her. Catalina didn’t look. She knew her white dress was almost transparent against her dark ass. Her bare back shined with sweat. Her curly black hair fell on her shoulders, teasing with flashes of her bare shoulder. Behind her is exactly where she wanted him.
Catalina kept writing. She used large letters and made sure to sway her hips as she moved. Words of power filled the chalkboard; NIPPLES, CLITORIS, VAGINA, ORAL, INTERCOURSE and others.
Behind Catalina, she heard the scribbling of a pencil. She could feel the poetry being written. It was like a lover’s whisper on her neck.
Catalina began to sketch a woman’s body on the chalkboard. “Today’s lesson is about sex education. We will be discussing erogenous zones. Does any one know what that is?”
There was no answer. She kept drawing with the purple chalk.
“Erogenous zones are places on the body that sexually stimulate a person. On every person the zones are different but there are some common zones. For example, on a woman these zones can be on the breasts, on the buttocks or on the lips. Can any one name another zone?”
There was no answer. Catalina drew nipples on the body she had drawn.
“For some women, their nipples can be very sensitive. Pinching, biting or kissing can cause a woman’s erogenous zones to become very sensitive. Can any one name another method of stimulating a nipple?”
“Pulling?” a voice offered.
Catalina turned around. Sitting in the back of the class was a boy. He might have been sixteen. His blonde hair was spiky and he had the small beginnings of a mustache on his face. A red notebook sat in front of him.
“Very good,” Catalina said. She walked away from the chalkboard and sat on the teacher’s table. Her feet dangled in front of her. She braced her arms to either side of her and leaned slightly forward so that her deep cleavage would catch his eyes.
“When the nipples are stimulated,” Catalina continued, “the vagina becomes damp. This helps lubricate the vagina for sex. This is why seduction is so important in sexual relations. Only with arousal can sex occur in a pleasurable manner.”
The boy had stopped writing. He just watched, mesmerized.
“Have you ever pulled a nipple?” she asked.
The boy blushed. “No,” he weakly said.
“It’s alright,” she said. “It is not a race. Come here and we’ll further your education.”
He moved slowly. Catalina stayed perfectly still as he came closer. The chill of the grave preceded him but he had the scared blue eyes of a young man. She could be brave for him.
When he was in front of her, Catalina lifted her skirt. Underneath she wore nothing except the dark bush of hair that covered her sex. She reached down and parted her lips.
“As you can see, I am currently unaroused,” she said. “Can you see?”
He looked down at her and nodded. The boy kept licking his lips.
Catalina reached up for her breast with one hand, while still opening her sex with the other hand. She pulled her heavy breast out of her dress top. The dark breast with the chocolate colored nipple laid in her hand.
“Pull my nipple,” she said.
The boy pulled. Cold fingers grabbed her nipple and pulled.
Catalina moaned. “Now pinch it.”
The boy pinched her nipple. His chewed fingernails cut into her.
Catalina groaned. “Now squeeze my breast.”
The boy put his hand awkwardly on her breast. He trembled as he felt the weight, the warmth and the softness of it all. He squeezed. His hand clenched around her breast with the eagerness of youth.
Catalina stroked herself. “Now kiss my breast.”
The boy licked his lips. He bent down and kissed her breast. It felt like ice on her sweaty breast.
Catalina used both hands to spread her pussy. “Now look at how aroused you made me.”
The boy looked down. A smile broke his pale face. His scared blue eyes changed to laughter. He looked back up at Catalina’s breast and then her face.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Thank you, Keith Carter,” Catalina said. “That was wonderful.”
Keith smiled. “I have never touched a breast before,” he said.
“You have now,” Catalina said. “How are you feeling?”
He touched her breast again. “I feel lighter for some reason. Why is that?”
“Desire can empower us, it can encourage us and sometimes it can anchor us,” Catalina said. “I think when you were in that car accident, you had one desire left that was keeping you here.”
Keith smiled. “I never thought of it tha-“
He vanished. Catalina got down from the table and put her breast back into her dress. She was about to leave when she noticed a notebook sitting on the table top. She picked it up and flipped to the last page written.
The Voluptumancer blushed at the dirty poem she found inside. She laughed at the raw rhymes that only a teenager could write. The book faded in seconds, but the words stayed with her forever.
The end.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Keeping Promises
Few people make as many promises as the unhappy. When you're unhappy, you make plans and commitments to happy futures under that amazing conditional phrase: If Only Some Amazing Thing Would Happen, I Would Blah Blah Blah.
In the BDSM community, these promises usually come from those who are not in a relationship. Doms promise that if only they had a submissive, they would tie her up every night. Submissives promise that if they only had a dom, they would stick to their diet and work out. Everyone swears that if only they were in a relationship, they would fulfill their desires on a constant basis.
Reality can be disruptive to those promises. For one thing, the happiness a relationship brings creates new pleasures. Making lasagna together is one of my new favorite things, which it sure as fuck wasn't a year ago. Reality also introduces the idea of satisfaction. Now that you can fuck someone silly in the living room, you don't need to do it every day.
I was looking at my girlfriend's ass last night. She had on these cute blue green panties with stars on them. They weren't sexy, but the ass that was filling the panties were. I thought about how many times I had sworn that if I only had an ass to spank, I would spank it every day. I thought about how I would sigh when I heard one of my submissive friends complain about how their doms only spank them once a week. I remembered how I could not conceive of NOT spanking such a pretty ass any chance I got.
She came to bed with a book. She rolled over away from me but with her ass facing me. The promises I made when I was married and unhappy came to mind. If time travel was possible, Shon from 12 months ago would have been kicking my ass right now.
I sat up and grabbed her panties. I pulled them up into a wedgie so I could have access to both cheeks. My girlfriend giggled and kept reading. I wasn't offended. I took it as a challenge.
Bare handed and at an awkward angle, I spanked her ass. Her ass turned from brown to red. Her cheeks clenched tighter as I spanked harder. Her legs kicked but I pinned them down with my leg.
I spanked that beautiful ass. I kept my promise to myself. I deserve it.
In the BDSM community, these promises usually come from those who are not in a relationship. Doms promise that if only they had a submissive, they would tie her up every night. Submissives promise that if they only had a dom, they would stick to their diet and work out. Everyone swears that if only they were in a relationship, they would fulfill their desires on a constant basis.
Reality can be disruptive to those promises. For one thing, the happiness a relationship brings creates new pleasures. Making lasagna together is one of my new favorite things, which it sure as fuck wasn't a year ago. Reality also introduces the idea of satisfaction. Now that you can fuck someone silly in the living room, you don't need to do it every day.
I was looking at my girlfriend's ass last night. She had on these cute blue green panties with stars on them. They weren't sexy, but the ass that was filling the panties were. I thought about how many times I had sworn that if I only had an ass to spank, I would spank it every day. I thought about how I would sigh when I heard one of my submissive friends complain about how their doms only spank them once a week. I remembered how I could not conceive of NOT spanking such a pretty ass any chance I got.
She came to bed with a book. She rolled over away from me but with her ass facing me. The promises I made when I was married and unhappy came to mind. If time travel was possible, Shon from 12 months ago would have been kicking my ass right now.
I sat up and grabbed her panties. I pulled them up into a wedgie so I could have access to both cheeks. My girlfriend giggled and kept reading. I wasn't offended. I took it as a challenge.
Bare handed and at an awkward angle, I spanked her ass. Her ass turned from brown to red. Her cheeks clenched tighter as I spanked harder. Her legs kicked but I pinned them down with my leg.
I spanked that beautiful ass. I kept my promise to myself. I deserve it.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Nipple Love
I tried to explain the concept of 'Nipple Love' to my girlfriend. She screamed at me through hysterical laughter, "You're making this shit up!"
Sigh. Let me set the scene. It was a dark and stormy Sunday. We had recently bought the 'Curse of the Dark Pharoah' supplement for what seems to be our weekly game of 'Arkham Horror'. We bought the supplement in the hope that some new elements would jazz it up. What happened is the game got twice as fucking hard.
My girlfriend hit a string of bad luck. She rolled ten dice; none of them came up as successes.
"My dice are cursed!" she yelled.
"You got to show them love," I said. "You have to show them Nipple Love."
She started laughing. "What?"
I got very serious. "Look, gamers know that when your dice go bad, you have to charge them up. You rub them on your nipples."
She kept laughing. ""You're making this shit up!"
"No, that's what you have to do! The dice need to touch you and get your essence."
She half heartedly rubbed them on her shirt.
"Skin to dice contact!" I said.
"You just want to see my nipples," she said.
"Woman, if I was making this up, I would say you had to put them in your mouth and put a cock in there too."
She laughed and reached into her shirt. She rubbed the die on one nipple, and then the other. She then blew on the die which really cracked me up. Once you start doing one superstition, why not throw others too?
She rolled the dice. Mother-fucking six.
Nipple Love.
Sigh. Let me set the scene. It was a dark and stormy Sunday. We had recently bought the 'Curse of the Dark Pharoah' supplement for what seems to be our weekly game of 'Arkham Horror'. We bought the supplement in the hope that some new elements would jazz it up. What happened is the game got twice as fucking hard.
My girlfriend hit a string of bad luck. She rolled ten dice; none of them came up as successes.
"My dice are cursed!" she yelled.
"You got to show them love," I said. "You have to show them Nipple Love."
She started laughing. "What?"
I got very serious. "Look, gamers know that when your dice go bad, you have to charge them up. You rub them on your nipples."
She kept laughing. ""You're making this shit up!"
"No, that's what you have to do! The dice need to touch you and get your essence."
She half heartedly rubbed them on her shirt.
"Skin to dice contact!" I said.
"You just want to see my nipples," she said.
"Woman, if I was making this up, I would say you had to put them in your mouth and put a cock in there too."
She laughed and reached into her shirt. She rubbed the die on one nipple, and then the other. She then blew on the die which really cracked me up. Once you start doing one superstition, why not throw others too?
She rolled the dice. Mother-fucking six.
Nipple Love.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Fiction: Voluptumancer
Here is a story I did about 6 years ago under the Purple Herald name. I always intended to do more with this character but it wasn't till recently that I knew what those stories could be. Enjoy.
The flight attendant was looking down Catalina’s shirt again. That was all right. It was why she left the top three buttons undone in the first place. Her dark breasts were about to overflow out of her bra, and the flight attendant had the most perfect view. He kept making excuses to check on her, which resulted in very attentive service. The power she gained from his libido was almost secondary to the delight of his keeping her water topped off.
Across from her, the man in the cheap suit was checking out her legs. She crossed her legs again to give him some variety. His eyes never left her long legs and the subtle shifting of her black skirt. He couldn’t see up her skirt from where he was, but Catalina did let the skirt ride up to give him a glimpse of her lovely thighs.
Meanwhile, the woman next to Catalina was pretending to be asleep. She was a pretty blonde who didn’t seem to notice that Catalina’s hand was on her thigh. The blonde was bi-curious, something Catalina could tell by looking at her as easily as you could see that someone has blue eyes. As the woman pretended to be asleep, Catalina rubbed her thigh with a gentle touch. The woman was too unsure of herself to let Catalina go any further, but the simple touch would be enough to fuel her fantasies for months to come.
All around her, the sexual energy flowed into Catalina’s body like a hot-oil massage. Her own body was becoming more and more aroused to the point that she just wanted to take herself right here and now. She held off, though, for releasing the energy now would leave her drained and exhausted. Instead, she kept absorbing the frustrations, the fantasies and the desires until her body was tingling with the power.
Catalina was a voluptumancer, a gatherer of sexual energy, and today she had clients to impress.
To read more, click Whole Post
The plane landed, and the passengers disembarked. Catalina easily picked her clients out of the crowd. There were three nervous ones and one excited believer. She approached them slowly, letting them get a good view of the person they had hired. She let them see her long black hair, her exposed bustline and the swishing of her skirt. It was important to look the part, and Catalina could never be mistaken for anything but a highly sexual person.
“Greetings, Councilman Brown,” Catalina said as she offered her hand. She recognized the senior member from her mother’s photographs. He was a distinguished man despite the sloping of his back. He kissed her hand and somehow made it look natural.
“Welcome to Charlotte,” Mr. Brown said. “Your mother recommended you highly.”
Catalina smiled. “She was sorry she couldn’t come herself, but since retiring, she finds it hard to leave her new husband. Mother did ask me to give you this.”
His eyes sparkled as she pulled out a letter. Catalina almost laughed, but politeness won out. She was always amazed by the way her mother could enchant people thousands of miles away.
A cough from one of the others interrupted Brown’s memories.
“Oh yes. I should introduce you to the rest of the council,” he said. Indicating a stern woman with steel gray hair, he introduced Councilwoman Meisel. Mrs. Meisel was polite but nervous about something. Catalina looked into her soul and saw that she was having an affair with her aide, but that wasn’t what was bothering her. Whatever it was, Catalina made her forget it with a brief vision of her aide kneeling before the older woman. Mrs. Meisel smiled at her private pleasure.
Next was Councilman Donner, a nice, friendly man with a fetish for shoes. He was nervous but also relieved to see her. Catalina tapped her heel on the ground discreetly, drawing his attention to her new shoes. She didn’t do it to gain any more power; she just hated to see someone that anxious.
Last was Councilman Moore, and Catalina felt the distrust in his handshake. He was an attractive older man, with a solid tan that came from years of farm work. Mr. Moore had no secret fetishes for Catalina to discover, and she found it disappointing. A man without a fetish was like a dinner without dessert.
“Let’s take Ms. Morado to my van before any reporters ask why the city council is gathered like this,” Mr. Moore said.
The others agreed quickly. Catalina found their apprehensions amusing. Mr. Brown took her luggage, and Mr. Donner was eager to help her into the van. Once they were all locked in and Mr. Moore was driving, they relaxed enough to talk.
“You see those marks on the trees over there?” Mr. Brown asked. “That is how high the water rose during the flood. For a week and a half, we were completely cut off from the rest of the state, hemmed in by the river.”
“They called it the flood of the century,” Mrs. Meisel said. “But they were wrong. The last flood was fifty years ago.”
“Right before you hired my mother,” Catalina said.
They nodded, except Mr. Moore, who snorted. Mr. Brown shot him a dirty look, but Catalina placed her hand on his and smiled. He instantly relaxed. Her mother would have been proud.
“My mother was curious why you didn’t request her aid four years ago when the spell wore off.”
Mr. Brown scowled. “Because of that bastard Charles. He was Ned’s predecessor, and he was dead set against paying your mother for something he didn’t believe in.”
“Oh he believed in it,” Mrs. Meisel said. “He believed she was a witch and an abomination to God. When he found out that we had disguised past expenditures under the label ‘environmental Adviser,’ he gave us a speech about God and nature right there. He said it would damn all of our souls if city funds were spent on a witch.”
Mr. Moore laughed in the front seat. “No, he said he would damn our souls by making it public if we did hire her. None of us was willing to explain to the voters that we wanted to hire a witch for a rain spell.”
“I’m a voluptumancer, actually,” Catalina said. “Witches are something a bit different.”
“My apologies,” Mr. Moore said, clearly amused. Catalina didn’t need magic to see that he didn’t believe. She was curious about why he had gone along with her exorbitant fee.
“Anyway,” Mr. Brown continued. “that was when Hurricane Floyd hit. God damn, the river just kept rising and rising. The airport, the bridges and most of District Seven were under water. Your mother had warned me that something like this might happen, and damn if she wasn’t right.”
“Something you kept telling Charles the entire time,” Mrs. Meisel said in such a way that Catalina knew it was a fond memory. “I’m just glad he left town when the waters dropped. The chicken shit was terrified that it would flood again — a judgment from God.”
“We all were,” Mr. Donner said, and the laughter died. “The flood drained every penny we had and after we pay Ms. Morado’s fee, we’ll barely have enough to put another police department in my district.”
“Now, Carl, you know we need that money to go toward the school we’re building on Tenth Street,” Mrs. Meisel said.
The discussion would have turned irrevocably toward local politics except for the timely and unexpected intervention of Mr. Moore.
“So what does Ms. Morado need for her spell?” he asked. “Jerry mentioned that your mother used the entire city park.”
“Just a part of it,” Catalina said. “I’ll need four walls of cloth, like a tent with no top, to enclose an area 20 feet square. It’ll have to be around a picnic table where I can do the ritual. I will also need you to keep the public away, but that shouldn’t be a problem since it is going to rain that day.”
That prompted Mr. Moore to look at her in the rearview mirror, but he kept quiet.
“Ms. Morado, when can you start?” Mrs. Meisel asked. “I’m not trying to rush you, but hurricane season starts Sunday.”
“And you would also rather not have me in town for too long, in case people ask questions,” Catalina said. “I can do it tomorrow afternoon, if you like. I need at least a night’s rest before trying this for the first time.”
“First time?” Mr. Donner asked. “You’ve never done this before? How will we know if you did it right?”
Mr. Brown blushed, while Mrs. Meisel and Mr. Donner just looked at him. They suspected something, and there were embarrassing questions about to be asked. Catalina released a little of her power to draw their eyes back to her. It wasn’t professional to use her power like that, but she had a soft spot for her mother’s lovers.
“Trust me, if I don’t get it right, I’ll be dead and then you’ll know.”
That satisfied them or at least kept them quiet. They reached her hotel, where Mr. Brown tried to apologize for the situation, but she waved it off. She even kissed him on the cheek, which straightened his back momentarily.
“I’d like to watch,” Mr. Moore said.
Charged with as much sexual energy as she was, Catalina took a moment to realize that he meant the ritual.
“Now wait a minute, Alex,” Mr. Brown said. “I know you’re skeptical, but you agreed to this. You can’t back out now.”
“I’m not backing out,” Mr. Moore said. He looked straight at Catalina, so there wouldn’t be any doubt about his sincerity. “I’ve talked to the other former council members who are still alive, and they all believe in the beautiful woman who kept the floods away. Granted, this is just her daughter, but if she says she has the same ability, I want to see it. We’re paying an awful lot of money for this, and I would like to be able to tell voters — if they ever find out — that I believe it was money well spent. For that, I need to see it.”
“That would be perfect,” Catalina said. “I could use a Watcher for my first time.”
Mr. Donner laughed until an icy glare from Mrs. Meisel silenced him. They were all thinking dirty thoughts. Catalina had that effect on people.
“Pick me up at 11,” Catalina said.
~~~
“The tent is perfect,” Catalina said, and it was. The green material was faded, and she knew they had found the original tent her mother had used. The cloth had been enchanted so it could not rip or tear during the ceremony, and once planted, it would stay in place for years if left alone. She was confident it would last one day.
Mr. Moore nodded, but he wasn’t paying attention. The poor man couldn’t keep his eyes off the voluptumancer. The Hispanic beauty was wearing a white bikini top that barely held in her large breasts. Around her waist, she wore a matching sarong that clung to her shapely hips and didn’t cover half of her thighs. Her hair was loose and came halfway down her bare back. Considering that it was the middle of October, she caused quite the scene in the hotel lobby, but the woman acted without shame. Even now, in the park, Mr. Moore couldn’t believe how at ease she was. It was as if everyone else had the problem.
“Let’s get into the tent before people begin to wonder,” Catalina said, and Mr. Moore was only too happy to agree. She brought in her bag while he hastily zipped the tent behind them. Catalina took out a bag of green powder and sprinkled it in a circle on the ground.
“You’ll have to sit here,” she said. “And no matter what you believe, don’t break the circle until I say so, OK?”
“All right,” he said. He still didn’t believe, but he was playing along. The skeptic sat down on the grass and crossed his legs inside the circle. There was something genuine about Catalina that convinced him that she at least believed in this weirdness. He watched as she took out a bag of purple powder and sprinkled complex and somewhat pornographic images into the grass around the picnic table. She then took out a stone phallus that was nearly a foot tall and set it on the table.
“Holy Christ,” Mr. Moore said.
Catalina laughed. “No, Christ is a lot smaller,” she said.
“What the hell is that for?”
“It’s to help nature take on a male form,” she said. As she poured a purple liquid over the gray phallus, thunder rolled overhead.
“Male? I though nature was a mother.”
Catalina smiled. “Nature is a hermaphrodite, actually, but you can coax one gender over another.”
Before he could ask another question, Catalina removed her bikini top. There were no tan lines at all on her golden dark body. The sight of her bronzed breasts silenced him, but when she poured a little of the purple liquid over each breast, he couldn’t help sighing. The purple liquid bubbled on her skin and stuck to her breasts like lover’s hands.
She stripped off her sarong. She wore nothing underneath, which didn’t surprise Mr. Moore at all. A dark patch of pubic hair covered her sex, and he lost his breath when Catalina sprinkled a gold powder between her legs. When she turned around to paint images onto the table, her wonderful round ass was right in front of him, and he had to fight the urge to reach out and squeeze.
After the table was done, Catalina took a purple jar of paint and using a tiny brush, she painted her own body. She drew a stick man with two heads on her belly. On the inside of her thigh, she painted the number 6. Finally, on each cheek, she painted a tiny pentagram as easily as some women put on lipstick.
Above them, the first drops of rain began to fall. Catalina looked up and stuck out her tongue to catch a raindrop. Mr. Moore wanted to believe, just to believe in her.
“The spell is working faster than it should,” Catalina said. “Nature remembers. The pattern was broken, and Nature took out its frustration with Hurricane Floyd.”
“The whole East Coast was devastated because we didn’t hire your mother?”
“Of course not,” Catalina said. “Hurricanes happen regardless of little magics, but Nature has a memory, and Nature can play favorites. What my mother did was keep this town on Nature’s good side. If she had done her spell, Nature would have held back on the town that gave it so much pleasure.”
“Pleasure?” Mr. Moore said in barely a whisper.
Catalina still heard him even though the thunder was getting louder. “Oh yes, pleasure. Pleasure is the first magic, the strongest bribe and the oldest form of diplomacy.”
She climbed onto the tabletop and laid down on her back. Catalina parted her legs, and Mr. Moore stood up inside his circle to watch her. It started to rain harder as she chanted something too strange and exotic for him to understand. It was only after a full minute of raining that he realized that he wasn’t getting wet.
On the other hand, Catalina was getting soaked. The purple potion that she had poured onto her breasts was quickly washed away by the rain, leaving her dark globes in tiny rivers. The rain flattened her pubic hair until the folds of her sex were revealed in all their secret glory. She couldn’t keep still as the rain increased in intensity and temperature. Each drop of rain was like a tiny kiss, and it sensitized her skin wherever she was struck. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table while her heels dug against the hard wood. Catalina opened her mouth and spoke the final words to the spell.
The stone phallus crumbled under the water as if it were made of sand.
Lightning flashed in the sky, and the downpour began. A solid wall of water fell onto her and somehow stayed on top of her. Water surrounded her completely, washing over her round breasts and hard nipples like the waves of the ocean. She felt hands made of water squeeze her breasts, thighs, buttocks and everywhere else until she was twisting under the force of Nature’s desire. The water was hot and tingling, so Catalina felt as though she were submerged in freshly ejaculated semen.
She shuddered as the water entered her sex with a solid thrust. Her hips rose to meet her elemental lover, and she felt the press of the rain push deep inside her. In and out the watery phallus fucked her, pushing deeper than any mortal lover. A whirlpool centered on her clitoris, and Catalina moaned under Nature’s attention. It was like 1,000 tongues were on her clit, each one licking her hard nub until she was ready to be driven mad.
Something forced open her mouth, and Catalina accepted Nature with her throat. The water rushed in but stopped short of drowning her. She relaxed her jaw as the water fucked her mouth, rolling in and out of her lips like the tide. She could feel the rain washing through her hair, pulling and twisting her long locks as the water fucked her body. She ran her tongue through the water and licked the liquid phallus between her lips.
Underneath, her buttocks were slowly forced open. Silently, she urged the invasion on until she felt the solid push of water enter her anus. She groaned as her tight ass expanded to accept the watery cock. The first thrust lifted her from the table, and she couldn’t believe how large nature was inside her.
The liquid cocks in her ass and sex fucked in rhythm together. Catalina was choking on the phallus in her mouth, but it was a good choking. Her breasts were being pummeled by the rolling waves that had her nipples rock hard. She was in the center of a fuck-storm that drove her body wild. Catalina had her first climax, and she screamed her pleasure through the water. She came again and again until she could taste her own cream mixing with the water that surrounded her.
After a lifetime of sensation, Nature finally climaxed as well. The water within her sex and ass finally exploded, flooding her with the heat of orgasm. The phalluses melted inside her, pouring out of her body in imitation of the weakness of flesh. The cock inside her mouth exploded as well, gushing down her throat and pouring out of her mouth in a relentless flood.
The water that had encased her suddenly fell away from her body, soaking the table and the grass around her. Catalina gasped for air and sat up, choking. The rain slowed to a small drizzle, and she knew that Nature was satisfied for another few years. Catalina’s body was aching with the craving of being submerged again. After being so completely penetrated and embraced, her body was going through a supernatural withdrawal.
She looked at Mr. Moore. He was standing in the circle, eyes wide and mouth open. There was not a drop of water on him, but the ground around his enchanted circle was muddy and wet from Nature’s orgy. What he had seen had wiped all doubt from his mind. Perhaps he didn’t fully understand what he had seen, but he knew that Catalina was exactly who she said she was. She didn’t need her powers to notice the bulge in his pants or the wish that was in his eyes.
“Come here,” she said.
Mr. Moore broke the circle and came to the table. He didn’t say anything as she unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. It was only half erect until Catalina expended some power into him. His cock hardened in her grip till it was a nice thick seven inches.
Laying on her stomach on the tabletop, Catalina took him into her mouth. The taste of his salty flesh helped wipe away the memory of flowing water. She sucked him hard, wiping her tongue all over his shaft while he hit the back of her throat. Her nose was buried in his pubic hair as she breathed in his human scents.
Mr. Moore gripped her shoulder in one hand and a hanging breast in the other. Catalina moaned around his cock as his fingers squeezed her tit. His hand gripped her wet hair as he pumped against her mouth and his balls slapped against her chin, but she didn’t mind. He was exactly what she needed: a human lover with human needs.
He climaxed in her mouth, and the sticky semen obliterated the last traces of water in her mouth. Catalina swallowed it all. She sucked down hard as her tongue pulled every strand of seed from his body. Mr. Moore groaned, and his knees shook, but the dusky beauty kept swallowing until she had everything he could offer.
“That was unbelievable,” he said when she finally let him go.
“You’re not done yet,” Catalina said in a husky whisper. She spun around on her back and parted her legs. The long calves wrapped around his waist and pulled him to her. She stroked his cock and aimed him for her sex.
He laughed. “There’s no way. I’m not nearly as young as I used to be.”
“You are now,” Catalina said, and she took the last of her hoarded power and gave it to his cock. Mr. Moore whimpered as the sensitivity and endurance of youth returned to him. His cock ached with the need to fuck, thrust and come.
“Yes,” he growled as his hands grabbed her waist. He slammed into her sex hard enough to make her large breasts jiggle with the impact. He laughed lustily as he fucked the exotic enchantress. His cock felt huge and his strength limitless. Mr. Moore fucked her with a pounding force that mirrored the thumping of his heart.
Catalina squeezed her breasts as he fucked her. She twisted her nipples between sharp fingernails, and she strove to remove the memory of water. She clenched around his cock, enjoying the feeling of something solid between her thighs as she crossed her ankles. The lure of Nature became a distant dream as she surrendered to the beauty of a throbbing cock and the stickiness of sweat.
He ejaculated again, and when his seed shot inside her, Catalina felt the last traces of water being pushed aside. She climaxed with him, her pussy tingling around his hard and solid shaft. Her sex milked his cock, craving his body as an anchor to reality.
“Thank you,” they both said together. They laughed, and Mr. Moore slowly pulled away. A string of seed fell on her thigh, and Catalina scooped it up with her fingers and put it back in her. Every little bit helps. The sky above her was devoid of any clouds, and the sun shone down brightly on her wet body. For the first time since taking over her mother’s business, Catalina really understood the powers she commanded and how much they were needed in this repressed world.
“I see now why Nature appreciates this town,” Mr. Moore said. “For that matter, I can see why we appreciated your mother and now you. We can rebuild now from the flood without the fear of the river turning on us again. You’ve given us our future back.”
His flattery warmed her better than any lover’s cuddle. “Come on, let’s get dressed and clean up our mess, so I can get back to the hotel.”
He looked at beautiful sultry body and sighed. “What’s the hurry?” he teased, reluctant to return to the world outside the tent.
“I want to get you back to my hotel room so I can show you how a voluptumancer really thanks her friends.”
The end
The flight attendant was looking down Catalina’s shirt again. That was all right. It was why she left the top three buttons undone in the first place. Her dark breasts were about to overflow out of her bra, and the flight attendant had the most perfect view. He kept making excuses to check on her, which resulted in very attentive service. The power she gained from his libido was almost secondary to the delight of his keeping her water topped off.
Across from her, the man in the cheap suit was checking out her legs. She crossed her legs again to give him some variety. His eyes never left her long legs and the subtle shifting of her black skirt. He couldn’t see up her skirt from where he was, but Catalina did let the skirt ride up to give him a glimpse of her lovely thighs.
Meanwhile, the woman next to Catalina was pretending to be asleep. She was a pretty blonde who didn’t seem to notice that Catalina’s hand was on her thigh. The blonde was bi-curious, something Catalina could tell by looking at her as easily as you could see that someone has blue eyes. As the woman pretended to be asleep, Catalina rubbed her thigh with a gentle touch. The woman was too unsure of herself to let Catalina go any further, but the simple touch would be enough to fuel her fantasies for months to come.
All around her, the sexual energy flowed into Catalina’s body like a hot-oil massage. Her own body was becoming more and more aroused to the point that she just wanted to take herself right here and now. She held off, though, for releasing the energy now would leave her drained and exhausted. Instead, she kept absorbing the frustrations, the fantasies and the desires until her body was tingling with the power.
Catalina was a voluptumancer, a gatherer of sexual energy, and today she had clients to impress.
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The plane landed, and the passengers disembarked. Catalina easily picked her clients out of the crowd. There were three nervous ones and one excited believer. She approached them slowly, letting them get a good view of the person they had hired. She let them see her long black hair, her exposed bustline and the swishing of her skirt. It was important to look the part, and Catalina could never be mistaken for anything but a highly sexual person.
“Greetings, Councilman Brown,” Catalina said as she offered her hand. She recognized the senior member from her mother’s photographs. He was a distinguished man despite the sloping of his back. He kissed her hand and somehow made it look natural.
“Welcome to Charlotte,” Mr. Brown said. “Your mother recommended you highly.”
Catalina smiled. “She was sorry she couldn’t come herself, but since retiring, she finds it hard to leave her new husband. Mother did ask me to give you this.”
His eyes sparkled as she pulled out a letter. Catalina almost laughed, but politeness won out. She was always amazed by the way her mother could enchant people thousands of miles away.
A cough from one of the others interrupted Brown’s memories.
“Oh yes. I should introduce you to the rest of the council,” he said. Indicating a stern woman with steel gray hair, he introduced Councilwoman Meisel. Mrs. Meisel was polite but nervous about something. Catalina looked into her soul and saw that she was having an affair with her aide, but that wasn’t what was bothering her. Whatever it was, Catalina made her forget it with a brief vision of her aide kneeling before the older woman. Mrs. Meisel smiled at her private pleasure.
Next was Councilman Donner, a nice, friendly man with a fetish for shoes. He was nervous but also relieved to see her. Catalina tapped her heel on the ground discreetly, drawing his attention to her new shoes. She didn’t do it to gain any more power; she just hated to see someone that anxious.
Last was Councilman Moore, and Catalina felt the distrust in his handshake. He was an attractive older man, with a solid tan that came from years of farm work. Mr. Moore had no secret fetishes for Catalina to discover, and she found it disappointing. A man without a fetish was like a dinner without dessert.
“Let’s take Ms. Morado to my van before any reporters ask why the city council is gathered like this,” Mr. Moore said.
The others agreed quickly. Catalina found their apprehensions amusing. Mr. Brown took her luggage, and Mr. Donner was eager to help her into the van. Once they were all locked in and Mr. Moore was driving, they relaxed enough to talk.
“You see those marks on the trees over there?” Mr. Brown asked. “That is how high the water rose during the flood. For a week and a half, we were completely cut off from the rest of the state, hemmed in by the river.”
“They called it the flood of the century,” Mrs. Meisel said. “But they were wrong. The last flood was fifty years ago.”
“Right before you hired my mother,” Catalina said.
They nodded, except Mr. Moore, who snorted. Mr. Brown shot him a dirty look, but Catalina placed her hand on his and smiled. He instantly relaxed. Her mother would have been proud.
“My mother was curious why you didn’t request her aid four years ago when the spell wore off.”
Mr. Brown scowled. “Because of that bastard Charles. He was Ned’s predecessor, and he was dead set against paying your mother for something he didn’t believe in.”
“Oh he believed in it,” Mrs. Meisel said. “He believed she was a witch and an abomination to God. When he found out that we had disguised past expenditures under the label ‘environmental Adviser,’ he gave us a speech about God and nature right there. He said it would damn all of our souls if city funds were spent on a witch.”
Mr. Moore laughed in the front seat. “No, he said he would damn our souls by making it public if we did hire her. None of us was willing to explain to the voters that we wanted to hire a witch for a rain spell.”
“I’m a voluptumancer, actually,” Catalina said. “Witches are something a bit different.”
“My apologies,” Mr. Moore said, clearly amused. Catalina didn’t need magic to see that he didn’t believe. She was curious about why he had gone along with her exorbitant fee.
“Anyway,” Mr. Brown continued. “that was when Hurricane Floyd hit. God damn, the river just kept rising and rising. The airport, the bridges and most of District Seven were under water. Your mother had warned me that something like this might happen, and damn if she wasn’t right.”
“Something you kept telling Charles the entire time,” Mrs. Meisel said in such a way that Catalina knew it was a fond memory. “I’m just glad he left town when the waters dropped. The chicken shit was terrified that it would flood again — a judgment from God.”
“We all were,” Mr. Donner said, and the laughter died. “The flood drained every penny we had and after we pay Ms. Morado’s fee, we’ll barely have enough to put another police department in my district.”
“Now, Carl, you know we need that money to go toward the school we’re building on Tenth Street,” Mrs. Meisel said.
The discussion would have turned irrevocably toward local politics except for the timely and unexpected intervention of Mr. Moore.
“So what does Ms. Morado need for her spell?” he asked. “Jerry mentioned that your mother used the entire city park.”
“Just a part of it,” Catalina said. “I’ll need four walls of cloth, like a tent with no top, to enclose an area 20 feet square. It’ll have to be around a picnic table where I can do the ritual. I will also need you to keep the public away, but that shouldn’t be a problem since it is going to rain that day.”
That prompted Mr. Moore to look at her in the rearview mirror, but he kept quiet.
“Ms. Morado, when can you start?” Mrs. Meisel asked. “I’m not trying to rush you, but hurricane season starts Sunday.”
“And you would also rather not have me in town for too long, in case people ask questions,” Catalina said. “I can do it tomorrow afternoon, if you like. I need at least a night’s rest before trying this for the first time.”
“First time?” Mr. Donner asked. “You’ve never done this before? How will we know if you did it right?”
Mr. Brown blushed, while Mrs. Meisel and Mr. Donner just looked at him. They suspected something, and there were embarrassing questions about to be asked. Catalina released a little of her power to draw their eyes back to her. It wasn’t professional to use her power like that, but she had a soft spot for her mother’s lovers.
“Trust me, if I don’t get it right, I’ll be dead and then you’ll know.”
That satisfied them or at least kept them quiet. They reached her hotel, where Mr. Brown tried to apologize for the situation, but she waved it off. She even kissed him on the cheek, which straightened his back momentarily.
“I’d like to watch,” Mr. Moore said.
Charged with as much sexual energy as she was, Catalina took a moment to realize that he meant the ritual.
“Now wait a minute, Alex,” Mr. Brown said. “I know you’re skeptical, but you agreed to this. You can’t back out now.”
“I’m not backing out,” Mr. Moore said. He looked straight at Catalina, so there wouldn’t be any doubt about his sincerity. “I’ve talked to the other former council members who are still alive, and they all believe in the beautiful woman who kept the floods away. Granted, this is just her daughter, but if she says she has the same ability, I want to see it. We’re paying an awful lot of money for this, and I would like to be able to tell voters — if they ever find out — that I believe it was money well spent. For that, I need to see it.”
“That would be perfect,” Catalina said. “I could use a Watcher for my first time.”
Mr. Donner laughed until an icy glare from Mrs. Meisel silenced him. They were all thinking dirty thoughts. Catalina had that effect on people.
“Pick me up at 11,” Catalina said.
~~~
“The tent is perfect,” Catalina said, and it was. The green material was faded, and she knew they had found the original tent her mother had used. The cloth had been enchanted so it could not rip or tear during the ceremony, and once planted, it would stay in place for years if left alone. She was confident it would last one day.
Mr. Moore nodded, but he wasn’t paying attention. The poor man couldn’t keep his eyes off the voluptumancer. The Hispanic beauty was wearing a white bikini top that barely held in her large breasts. Around her waist, she wore a matching sarong that clung to her shapely hips and didn’t cover half of her thighs. Her hair was loose and came halfway down her bare back. Considering that it was the middle of October, she caused quite the scene in the hotel lobby, but the woman acted without shame. Even now, in the park, Mr. Moore couldn’t believe how at ease she was. It was as if everyone else had the problem.
“Let’s get into the tent before people begin to wonder,” Catalina said, and Mr. Moore was only too happy to agree. She brought in her bag while he hastily zipped the tent behind them. Catalina took out a bag of green powder and sprinkled it in a circle on the ground.
“You’ll have to sit here,” she said. “And no matter what you believe, don’t break the circle until I say so, OK?”
“All right,” he said. He still didn’t believe, but he was playing along. The skeptic sat down on the grass and crossed his legs inside the circle. There was something genuine about Catalina that convinced him that she at least believed in this weirdness. He watched as she took out a bag of purple powder and sprinkled complex and somewhat pornographic images into the grass around the picnic table. She then took out a stone phallus that was nearly a foot tall and set it on the table.
“Holy Christ,” Mr. Moore said.
Catalina laughed. “No, Christ is a lot smaller,” she said.
“What the hell is that for?”
“It’s to help nature take on a male form,” she said. As she poured a purple liquid over the gray phallus, thunder rolled overhead.
“Male? I though nature was a mother.”
Catalina smiled. “Nature is a hermaphrodite, actually, but you can coax one gender over another.”
Before he could ask another question, Catalina removed her bikini top. There were no tan lines at all on her golden dark body. The sight of her bronzed breasts silenced him, but when she poured a little of the purple liquid over each breast, he couldn’t help sighing. The purple liquid bubbled on her skin and stuck to her breasts like lover’s hands.
She stripped off her sarong. She wore nothing underneath, which didn’t surprise Mr. Moore at all. A dark patch of pubic hair covered her sex, and he lost his breath when Catalina sprinkled a gold powder between her legs. When she turned around to paint images onto the table, her wonderful round ass was right in front of him, and he had to fight the urge to reach out and squeeze.
After the table was done, Catalina took a purple jar of paint and using a tiny brush, she painted her own body. She drew a stick man with two heads on her belly. On the inside of her thigh, she painted the number 6. Finally, on each cheek, she painted a tiny pentagram as easily as some women put on lipstick.
Above them, the first drops of rain began to fall. Catalina looked up and stuck out her tongue to catch a raindrop. Mr. Moore wanted to believe, just to believe in her.
“The spell is working faster than it should,” Catalina said. “Nature remembers. The pattern was broken, and Nature took out its frustration with Hurricane Floyd.”
“The whole East Coast was devastated because we didn’t hire your mother?”
“Of course not,” Catalina said. “Hurricanes happen regardless of little magics, but Nature has a memory, and Nature can play favorites. What my mother did was keep this town on Nature’s good side. If she had done her spell, Nature would have held back on the town that gave it so much pleasure.”
“Pleasure?” Mr. Moore said in barely a whisper.
Catalina still heard him even though the thunder was getting louder. “Oh yes, pleasure. Pleasure is the first magic, the strongest bribe and the oldest form of diplomacy.”
She climbed onto the tabletop and laid down on her back. Catalina parted her legs, and Mr. Moore stood up inside his circle to watch her. It started to rain harder as she chanted something too strange and exotic for him to understand. It was only after a full minute of raining that he realized that he wasn’t getting wet.
On the other hand, Catalina was getting soaked. The purple potion that she had poured onto her breasts was quickly washed away by the rain, leaving her dark globes in tiny rivers. The rain flattened her pubic hair until the folds of her sex were revealed in all their secret glory. She couldn’t keep still as the rain increased in intensity and temperature. Each drop of rain was like a tiny kiss, and it sensitized her skin wherever she was struck. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table while her heels dug against the hard wood. Catalina opened her mouth and spoke the final words to the spell.
The stone phallus crumbled under the water as if it were made of sand.
Lightning flashed in the sky, and the downpour began. A solid wall of water fell onto her and somehow stayed on top of her. Water surrounded her completely, washing over her round breasts and hard nipples like the waves of the ocean. She felt hands made of water squeeze her breasts, thighs, buttocks and everywhere else until she was twisting under the force of Nature’s desire. The water was hot and tingling, so Catalina felt as though she were submerged in freshly ejaculated semen.
She shuddered as the water entered her sex with a solid thrust. Her hips rose to meet her elemental lover, and she felt the press of the rain push deep inside her. In and out the watery phallus fucked her, pushing deeper than any mortal lover. A whirlpool centered on her clitoris, and Catalina moaned under Nature’s attention. It was like 1,000 tongues were on her clit, each one licking her hard nub until she was ready to be driven mad.
Something forced open her mouth, and Catalina accepted Nature with her throat. The water rushed in but stopped short of drowning her. She relaxed her jaw as the water fucked her mouth, rolling in and out of her lips like the tide. She could feel the rain washing through her hair, pulling and twisting her long locks as the water fucked her body. She ran her tongue through the water and licked the liquid phallus between her lips.
Underneath, her buttocks were slowly forced open. Silently, she urged the invasion on until she felt the solid push of water enter her anus. She groaned as her tight ass expanded to accept the watery cock. The first thrust lifted her from the table, and she couldn’t believe how large nature was inside her.
The liquid cocks in her ass and sex fucked in rhythm together. Catalina was choking on the phallus in her mouth, but it was a good choking. Her breasts were being pummeled by the rolling waves that had her nipples rock hard. She was in the center of a fuck-storm that drove her body wild. Catalina had her first climax, and she screamed her pleasure through the water. She came again and again until she could taste her own cream mixing with the water that surrounded her.
After a lifetime of sensation, Nature finally climaxed as well. The water within her sex and ass finally exploded, flooding her with the heat of orgasm. The phalluses melted inside her, pouring out of her body in imitation of the weakness of flesh. The cock inside her mouth exploded as well, gushing down her throat and pouring out of her mouth in a relentless flood.
The water that had encased her suddenly fell away from her body, soaking the table and the grass around her. Catalina gasped for air and sat up, choking. The rain slowed to a small drizzle, and she knew that Nature was satisfied for another few years. Catalina’s body was aching with the craving of being submerged again. After being so completely penetrated and embraced, her body was going through a supernatural withdrawal.
She looked at Mr. Moore. He was standing in the circle, eyes wide and mouth open. There was not a drop of water on him, but the ground around his enchanted circle was muddy and wet from Nature’s orgy. What he had seen had wiped all doubt from his mind. Perhaps he didn’t fully understand what he had seen, but he knew that Catalina was exactly who she said she was. She didn’t need her powers to notice the bulge in his pants or the wish that was in his eyes.
“Come here,” she said.
Mr. Moore broke the circle and came to the table. He didn’t say anything as she unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. It was only half erect until Catalina expended some power into him. His cock hardened in her grip till it was a nice thick seven inches.
Laying on her stomach on the tabletop, Catalina took him into her mouth. The taste of his salty flesh helped wipe away the memory of flowing water. She sucked him hard, wiping her tongue all over his shaft while he hit the back of her throat. Her nose was buried in his pubic hair as she breathed in his human scents.
Mr. Moore gripped her shoulder in one hand and a hanging breast in the other. Catalina moaned around his cock as his fingers squeezed her tit. His hand gripped her wet hair as he pumped against her mouth and his balls slapped against her chin, but she didn’t mind. He was exactly what she needed: a human lover with human needs.
He climaxed in her mouth, and the sticky semen obliterated the last traces of water in her mouth. Catalina swallowed it all. She sucked down hard as her tongue pulled every strand of seed from his body. Mr. Moore groaned, and his knees shook, but the dusky beauty kept swallowing until she had everything he could offer.
“That was unbelievable,” he said when she finally let him go.
“You’re not done yet,” Catalina said in a husky whisper. She spun around on her back and parted her legs. The long calves wrapped around his waist and pulled him to her. She stroked his cock and aimed him for her sex.
He laughed. “There’s no way. I’m not nearly as young as I used to be.”
“You are now,” Catalina said, and she took the last of her hoarded power and gave it to his cock. Mr. Moore whimpered as the sensitivity and endurance of youth returned to him. His cock ached with the need to fuck, thrust and come.
“Yes,” he growled as his hands grabbed her waist. He slammed into her sex hard enough to make her large breasts jiggle with the impact. He laughed lustily as he fucked the exotic enchantress. His cock felt huge and his strength limitless. Mr. Moore fucked her with a pounding force that mirrored the thumping of his heart.
Catalina squeezed her breasts as he fucked her. She twisted her nipples between sharp fingernails, and she strove to remove the memory of water. She clenched around his cock, enjoying the feeling of something solid between her thighs as she crossed her ankles. The lure of Nature became a distant dream as she surrendered to the beauty of a throbbing cock and the stickiness of sweat.
He ejaculated again, and when his seed shot inside her, Catalina felt the last traces of water being pushed aside. She climaxed with him, her pussy tingling around his hard and solid shaft. Her sex milked his cock, craving his body as an anchor to reality.
“Thank you,” they both said together. They laughed, and Mr. Moore slowly pulled away. A string of seed fell on her thigh, and Catalina scooped it up with her fingers and put it back in her. Every little bit helps. The sky above her was devoid of any clouds, and the sun shone down brightly on her wet body. For the first time since taking over her mother’s business, Catalina really understood the powers she commanded and how much they were needed in this repressed world.
“I see now why Nature appreciates this town,” Mr. Moore said. “For that matter, I can see why we appreciated your mother and now you. We can rebuild now from the flood without the fear of the river turning on us again. You’ve given us our future back.”
His flattery warmed her better than any lover’s cuddle. “Come on, let’s get dressed and clean up our mess, so I can get back to the hotel.”
He looked at beautiful sultry body and sighed. “What’s the hurry?” he teased, reluctant to return to the world outside the tent.
“I want to get you back to my hotel room so I can show you how a voluptumancer really thanks her friends.”
The end
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Chofa
I am so busy today but bright and early this morning, the chofa finally came in. We had to wait four to six weeks because they were out of stock on this shade of red. I think they called it Red #3 but I personally called it Dungeon Crimson.
Chofa is a fun word and interestingly enough, it is a word I didn't make up. It's not a chaise, it's not a sofa, it's a chofa.
Chofa.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Mercy
She begs me for mercy. Tears ruin her make up and add a glistening shine to the hand marks on her cheeks. Her lipstick is smeared from the many ways I abused her mouth.
She begs me for mercy. Red stripes cover her breasts where the flogger has struck. The clamps dangle from her pinched nipples.
She begs me for mercy. She has long since stopped fighting against the restraints. Rope burns decorate her arms and thighs. The cold bench provides no comfort or escape.
She begs me for mercy.
I give her the mercy of my cock.
She thanks me with a scream.
She begs me for mercy. Red stripes cover her breasts where the flogger has struck. The clamps dangle from her pinched nipples.
She begs me for mercy. She has long since stopped fighting against the restraints. Rope burns decorate her arms and thighs. The cold bench provides no comfort or escape.
She begs me for mercy.
I give her the mercy of my cock.
She thanks me with a scream.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Victory Lap
My long story is finished. Well, the first draft is finished. I still have rewriting to do and editing and other bits of work. I think first drafts are a lot like getting your lover naked: you have a lot to be happy about but you still have to do something with it all.
I have bitched about this story non stop and now that it is over I feel a little sad. I love these characters and I don't know when I will see them again. This story works for them and I can't imagine what kind of future story they could serve in. I'm going to miss them.
So since I am feeling tired, drained and all melancholy, you get Kate Bush. Did you know she put out an album in 2005? Cripes, I should be notified of these things.
I have bitched about this story non stop and now that it is over I feel a little sad. I love these characters and I don't know when I will see them again. This story works for them and I can't imagine what kind of future story they could serve in. I'm going to miss them.
So since I am feeling tired, drained and all melancholy, you get Kate Bush. Did you know she put out an album in 2005? Cripes, I should be notified of these things.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Saturday High
I am writing the penultimate chapter to my long story and I feel like I am buzzing. I barely ever drink but when I do, I go into this sort of bliss where everyone is funny and brilliant. I feel that way right now I am so fucking happy this story is almost over. What really makes me happy is I think it is all going to work. It really really is.
I'm just buzzing with ideas. It is a sort of surge of inspiration. I get this way and it makes perfect sense to start five blogs with different themes because I have no doubt at this very moment that I can supply content for all five forever and ever. The reality is much different but right now I am wallowing in that feeling right now. It is so much easier to write when you think you're brilliant.
I'm writing this down now so that in a week or two when I am rewriting and intimidated by the mess of it all, I can remember this feeling.
I'm just buzzing with ideas. It is a sort of surge of inspiration. I get this way and it makes perfect sense to start five blogs with different themes because I have no doubt at this very moment that I can supply content for all five forever and ever. The reality is much different but right now I am wallowing in that feeling right now. It is so much easier to write when you think you're brilliant.
I'm writing this down now so that in a week or two when I am rewriting and intimidated by the mess of it all, I can remember this feeling.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Playing and Crying
I love Audiosurf. I mean, I REALLY love this game. You use your own music library to form tracks to race on. Every night I am racing along to Muse, Kylie Minogue and holy shit, some of Moby's dance electronica is like bobsledding down Mount Everest.
There is a central leader board that keeps track of your high scores and compares them to people all over the world. That takes me back to when you play video games at the arcade and you see some asshole managed a billion points off of Asteroids. Despite the fact that the high scorer most likely is some austic kid with a coffee addiction, but damn it, you wanted to be that kid.
For someone like me, that means I can be the champion of Ray Steven's theme song for super cheese movie, 'Cannonball Run' because I actually have the song on my hard drive of horrors. It's easy to be champion when you are the only person in the game racing along to a song that was inspired by a Burt Reynolds movie.
Until last night when I received an e-mail from Audiosurf letting me know that I had been dethroned by someone who scored like five times more than I did.
Think about that. I thought I was being a dork by being the only person in the world to be racing to this song. Now I know that there is someone more hardcore cheesy than me.
Son of a bitch. It is on.
Play Audiosurf this weekend.
There is a central leader board that keeps track of your high scores and compares them to people all over the world. That takes me back to when you play video games at the arcade and you see some asshole managed a billion points off of Asteroids. Despite the fact that the high scorer most likely is some austic kid with a coffee addiction, but damn it, you wanted to be that kid.
For someone like me, that means I can be the champion of Ray Steven's theme song for super cheese movie, 'Cannonball Run' because I actually have the song on my hard drive of horrors. It's easy to be champion when you are the only person in the game racing along to a song that was inspired by a Burt Reynolds movie.
Until last night when I received an e-mail from Audiosurf letting me know that I had been dethroned by someone who scored like five times more than I did.
Think about that. I thought I was being a dork by being the only person in the world to be racing to this song. Now I know that there is someone more hardcore cheesy than me.
Son of a bitch. It is on.
Play Audiosurf this weekend.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Fiction: Paddle Circle
Catalina stepped into the circle. She was nude with only her long dark hair to adorn her. All around Catalina, twenty asses were bent over identical purple benches. Twenty sets of beautiful female buttocks surrounded her. Their doms stood by, paddles in hand. They were ready.
Catalina nodded and the spanking started. Twenty paddles fell on twenty asses and twenty voices cried out. At first, every dom spanked to his own rhythm but that didn't last for long. They spankings soon fell into a beat. No matter how arrogant the dom and no matter how stubborn, their paddles joined into one tap,tap,tap of drumming. They couldn't help it.
She closed her eyes. The spanking washed over her. The tap,tap,tap of asses being hit filled her soul. Catalina's hips were the first to move, swaying back and forth to the rhythm. Her shoulders were next, making her heavy dark breasts sway back and forth. Next came her knees, turning and pivoting as the tapping demanded. Her arms drifted in front of her, floating on the deafening beating of asses. Finally her head began to move, sending her long black hair flying.
Catalina danced. Twenty sore asses gave her the beat. Twenty moaning submissives were her chorus. Twenty spanking paddles were her applause.
It was her favorite song.
Catalina nodded and the spanking started. Twenty paddles fell on twenty asses and twenty voices cried out. At first, every dom spanked to his own rhythm but that didn't last for long. They spankings soon fell into a beat. No matter how arrogant the dom and no matter how stubborn, their paddles joined into one tap,tap,tap of drumming. They couldn't help it.
She closed her eyes. The spanking washed over her. The tap,tap,tap of asses being hit filled her soul. Catalina's hips were the first to move, swaying back and forth to the rhythm. Her shoulders were next, making her heavy dark breasts sway back and forth. Next came her knees, turning and pivoting as the tapping demanded. Her arms drifted in front of her, floating on the deafening beating of asses. Finally her head began to move, sending her long black hair flying.
Catalina danced. Twenty sore asses gave her the beat. Twenty moaning submissives were her chorus. Twenty spanking paddles were her applause.
It was her favorite song.
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