Before my eyes, a white cottage house surrounded by freshly planted roses. An image of modern country living set back in the mountains with a cold winter landscape that barely hinted at the paradise awaiting us inside. The land of the Cree, the graveyard of ghosts, a Canadian forest of mystical dreams. I walked up to the miniature imitation Fountain of Neptune set in a thorn bush. My eyes gleamed with relief when I saw the silver key hanging from the satyr's neck as promised.
It had been years of correspondence through the internet that brought me here. A chance to walk away from the grime of everyday life and embrace the liberation of living for indulgence. It was selfish, cruel, and absolutely necessary. I felt my erection harden as I began to think of the lascivious nature of my quest. Fantasies carrying me away, the blood in my veins pounding, my body shuddering with sadistic imaginations.
I **** my key on the table. The sliding door slid open and in walked a goddess of such **** overwhelming sensuality that I bit my lip to keep from letting out a betraying gasp. This was my time, my need, what I had earned and I wanted to remain in control. Her blond hair fell in curls around her large shoulders, her **** swelled up to shadow the tip of her chin. She was all amazonian curves, a body that begged to be examined, turned over, and set on fire with passion and pain. Her ivory skin betrayed the blossoming desire contained within, it reddened with torturous delight.
"You startled me, you're early." She murmured in a slow, nervous tone.
"It was a long trip and I didn't want to waste any time in getting to work." I said with a wicked grin.
"I bet you didn't."
"I've been going over all the plans, but I don't quite know where to start."
She strode over to me in all of her glory, reckless in abandon, hair floating like a tide breaking against the beach of my body. Our embrace commenced with hands entwined like tangled branches, together we perforated the room with a scent both sweet and sinister. I said, "I never imagined it like this, it was always more distant in my mind." There was a hum of silence as we gazed into each others eyes, earthly green reflecting across the serene ocean blue.
She moaned silently and replied, "No distance now. You've come ashore to...." she paused and let out a sweet melodious giggle, "conquer."
The word spurred me to action. I took my charge without delay now, all thoughts drowning in a well of fierce and **** passion. Now with **** alacrity I took her lovely mane in my fist and dragged her to the ground. I pinched her chin with my right hand and forced her to gaze up at my now swelling erection pushing through my ripped blue jeans. "Strip me." I stated in a dark and confidant tone, allowing for **** else but my will to be imposed immediately.
Tracey began to undo my belt with a hastey desperation. I didn't like that at all. I wanted her to feel and be pinned down by every inch of flesh, so I yelled "Slower now!" Before she was aware of what was happening, I mercilessly brought my palm up from her chin and reeled back to slap her **** across the cheeks. She jumped and shuddered, almost letting out a squeaking yell. She gazed down and murmured in submission, "Sorry, my beloved master." My **** pounded with the apology, nearly breaking the zipper on my jeans before she could finish her work. Now I saw with delicate hands, with impeccable grace, my **** slave girl indulging in each moment of revelation. My jeans fell to the floor slowly followed by what seemed like an eternity while my black boxers floated across my knees and down around my ankles.
The air grew heavy with intense gravity as she stared up at the tip of my ****. I think I heard her whisper "my god its true" upon witnessing my steel **** piercing protruding out from the head of my ****, but all memory of that moment grew dark and hazy as her lips came down the length of my shaft. Moist and tightly round in her wet mouth, pleasurable vibrations reverberated down my spine and through my legs. I had to let her experience it all, this simply wasn't enough: I wanted her throat. Mounting a ball of her golden curls into a ball locked by my talon like fist, I slammed her head down the entire length of my **** and drilled it deep into her throat. I heard her gagging reflex and pushed again, holding her against it with both hands, savoring every minute in the deep chasm of her throat, her lips, her face, to do with as I please. She choked for a moment, bile rising, so I pulled out quickly and administered what seemed like a million vicious slaps across her face. Snap. Snap. Snap. Each one popping against her red face, blue eyes now a healing well that treated each wound with salty and sinful tears.
After the upheaval of the victorious hour, my slave knelt in tearful adoration at my feet. I pulled her arms up and applied the steel **** handcuffs I had purchased at the flea market on the road leading to the cottage in the mountains. An old rural country woman, maybe half-Cree, nervously miscomprehended my purpose as noble. I remember her accented hillbilly stuttering "yare a mountee eh?" I
certainly was, but I rode not a horse, but my own libidinous Pegasus of human desire. Once the portrait of my Dionysian love goddess was cleanly matted, fleshly lacquered with lavender oil, and wall mounted courtesy of a steel hook and chain, I could begin to paint with my fleshly brush. This would be my red period collapsing sadly into black and blue.
When men ride the emotion of true **** conquest, we tend to lose track of time. I should really start from the beginning, which started off with scissors. We had planned a more elaborate
project, but finding her in her bath robe, a simple snip sufficed to reveal the canvas. Snip, the panties. Snip the bra. The panties, I forced through her **** open, luscious cherry lips and down in her throat to silence her. It is not that I am too good or miserly to indulge in the sophisticated tools of the trade. No, not at all. I'd rather like a wardrobe of the best the S&M industry has to offer. I feel that synthetics create an artificial barrier between my soulmate and myself. I want to become as one, never putting up a wall of pain and selfishness. Thus, I wielded only a birch branch that I had snapped off on the way to the cottage and waved it before her incomprehensible face. I carried on as previously mentioned, tenderly basing my meat with the very best of oils, and hanging it up to be consumed.
So it was prepared. I reeled back and with a pounding in my bare, metal infused, quickly reddening ****; I commenced with the beating. With each connection of branch whipping across flesh, Tracey let out muffled screams through her panties. I begin to lose myself in abuse, shouting "I'm going to f**k you so hard, your mine, your mine, do you like this?? do you like it? take it! take it!" Sweat poured down my brow and by the end of my scarring I found myself babbling in obscene tongues. My subject squirmed with pleasure, her flesh shivering, bright red blood marks rose against the surface of her whipped skin. The **** passed through me, I gently begin to **** the wounds with my tongue. I salivated around her br3asts and n1ipples which I had cross hatched with bleeding wounds. Her sweat, her flesh, combined with the pastry of her **** made a delectable desert. I **** in deeply on her fleshly br3asts, consuming blood and body oil with each gulp of desire. Tracey begin to thrash against the chains, so I cruelly begin the long journey of tongue, teeth, and lips down her navel, around her magnificent curvey hips, and towards her cl1t. This I manically whipped with my an agile tongue, undulating against her love button, creating friction and ecstacy. She tastes like every inch the goddess she was, I **** gleefully at her honeypot until I was thoroughly satiated. Then I removed the panties from her throat. A sound verging on the edge of an ancient Indian ritual rhythmically escaped from her mouth in a torturous melody. My ignoble sword now full of purple from the swelling, my ring covered in glistening translucent pre-c*m. She whispered with the sound of a guttural Germanic incantation, "My gott."
I coughed to ease the panting in my chest. I dropped the birch stick and instead rocketed three silver-ringed fingers into her c*nt. She reeled back, letting out a cry, and I came to her mouth to muffle the cry with a slow, deep kiss. My tongue traced the contours of her lips and then plunged deep like a harpoon into an ocean of prey. We tore at each others mouth, like erratic electric eels seeking desperately to extract some food from our victims. I whispered in her ear, "Beg me to f**k you. Say, 'F**k me, Don. F**k me, Now!"
She mimicked my request with sincerity, begging me to take her the way I wanted her to. I could deny her no longer. I looked to the table, nodded in approval, and brought her down off the ceiling where before she had only been my muse, my creation, my portrait. Now was her time to have me, for me to be her ****, her creation. I pushed her screaming my name, still begging obediently on to the broad dining room table. With a 4m length of rope, I bound her across the waste to the table. I removed my shirt and the black leather tie I had been wearing all day. The leather tie had been a gift from an artist friend back in Buffalo, where I used to live before abjuring to Australia. It was inscribed with the image of a wolf and feather, my calling among the Onondaga people--well known and feared. I wrapped this taught around her neck, choking her slightly, allowing her throat only one stream of breath to sustain herself. Still she begged in breathless whispers, "F**k me, Pleeeease Don, F**ck me." I took my pleasure **** from behind, thrusting upwards hard into her wet and shivering p*ssy lips. They engulfed me immediately, locked me in as I shot up like a missile into her depths. I lost myself to her as she repeatedly thrust back into me, I rode her like a stallion and pulled hard on the bit and bridle which was my own sacred tie. In a cosmic moment, the stars shot from the sky, and the universe went black as my orga$m rose from the depths of my dreams to meet hers across a celestial pathway that had collapsed into my own. We breathed our names, "Donald..
May 9, 12 4:05 AM