Dopamine Junkie's Assorted Chocolates

the dog barks

2003-10-06T17:59:00.000-07:00

And this, too, I dedicate
to you, sensei: like ripples
on a muscular
pond, you can watch the blow move
from pain to pleasure.

undulations from
the pain, her flesh responds like
rock in still water

------and the mistress responds, when thus provoked:

Last night I watched this film:

which I had never heard of before
but on the video box cover it says

"He wants to be her dog
She wants to see him cry
Love hurts"

My girlfriend didn't get why I thought it was so romantic

In the end, she asks him to jump off a waterfall
and he does
A faithful and obedient dog until the end

And he collects her socks
and she makes him watch, all tied up
while she fucks another guy
because his tears turn her on

It made me want to cry
I don't know why

I had many responses to my Domina ad
but I tested my game on my pet
tied his hands behind his back
beat him till we were both breathless
blindfolded him
then set the stopwatch
then told him to Go Fetch.

I lay back as he went to work
Encouraging him with words, whimpers and wacks
across the face

The pressure build quickly
he is trained so well
knows how to respond to my every squirm

I came hard into his mouth
across his face
Had to kick him off me
when it was too much
when I was finished

I gather him to my lap
to pet him as I recover
In that moment of silence and heat
The alarm goes off

We laugh.
Under 5 minutes.

So he gets a prize
he gets to cum
on all fours like a doggie
as I beat his ass and whisper in his ear
digging hard with my nails
but he can't come, he can't jerk off enough

And so I crawl up on the bed and position
my ass in his face
his blindfold blinds him
like a good doggie he uses his nose
to sniff at my ass

I tell him
I know you can't come without
feeling my little pucker on your tongue
He is well trained
this is also a test
he can only cum while eating my ass
I know this
so I spread my cheeks
and let him in

2 minutes later
I am looking behind me
as he spurts into the carpet
collapses at my feet
whispering thank you mistress.

How interesting you should say
now you explore your dominance more fully
while as of late
i choke on the ball gag
and let the pain
take me away "from all this death"
not that I have abandoned
a dominant practice
but i am so tender now
nothing to do but extract
the sweetness from the wounds
as my loss flashes before my eyes
with each sting of the whip

how nice it is to let go
to relinquish control
my power sources all used up in survival
how nice it is
to not have to choose
but have someone else choose your fate
even just for a few hours
and to trust in the pleasure
that comes with the pain
that comes with the falling
almost close to love
the submission i mean

how nice it is
to be held while i tremble
to be spread wide and useful
devoured and torn apart
to collect my remains
smoke a cigarette
and breathe again

the psychodrama of earl stanley stoner, esq. and domina jane die continues.

the lesson

2003-09-30T16:32:00.000-07:00

a syllabus, of sorts

you kneel motionless before me, restrained not by strap or chain, but
by my command and your desire to learn. your posture is good, as i
prefer it to be, with a nice curve to your spine. no movement is
allowed, not even the parting of your lips. you are to learn a lesson.

i approach you slowly, opening up my robe and revealing my half erect
cock. i observe your stillness and admire your beauty with a smile on
my face. standing before you, i reach down with my right hand and cover
your brow, signalling your to close your eyes. you obey, and the last
glimpse of my swelling cock vanishes into darkness.

your sense of touch now heightened, you revel in the simple sensation
of my warm hand upon your face. it lingers there a moment, and then you
feel it no more. a second later, you sense that i am close to your
face, but i am not touching you. instead you first feel the heat of my
body close to your face, and then almost in the same moment you catch
the scent of my crotch, the deliciously sweet musk of my manhood. your
tongue moves by reflex, readying itself to taste me--but that must not
happen, lest the lesson turn into one of pain and punishment.

then gently i brush my cock and balls up against your chin and lips,
pushing your nose into my pubic hair. i place my right hand behind your
head so as to bring your face deeper into my crotch and you breathe its
scent so deeply that almost instanteously a current of warmth streams
through your abdomen and your limbs; and the rose bud between your legs
begins to unfold, blood rushing into your moistening folds. i tell you
firmly, "you may smell all you like, but you must not open your mouth.
and if you do, the consequences will be swift and severe." as i say
these words, i hear you swallow, and i know that you are trying hard to
resist temptation, that you want to obey my command, that you want so
very much to learn.

"patience, my dear, is the lesson i am teaching you tonight. patience
in the face of your greatest desire, because it is not quite great
enough to bring you there, to that place where consciousness spills
over and your body melts into joyous ecstacy. do you want to go there?
you may say nod your head, if that is your desire." you nod, and it
pleases me. "you are a very good student."

"drink up, then, the scent of my body. taste with your nose the rich
sweaty flavors of my loins. fill your lungs with the ripeness of my
desire. you must carry in your breathe the savor of my longing, you
must carry it into every inch of your body. if you can do this, my
precious, then you will be poised for release into bliss and, then and
only then, will i enter you and melt my flesh into yours."

Sensual Sadism

2003-09-30T16:30:00.000-07:00

i was still too shy for this. Not anymore

The edge of the leather cuffs bite into your wrist as you strain
agains them. Lying face down on the bed, you smell the faint traces of
my sweat on the sheet. As I kneel between your legs you feel my knees
hold your naked thighs apart. You recognize the wet warmth at the base
of your spine as my tongue. You feel my tongue slowly progress up your
spine, vertebrae by vertebrae. When my tongue is between your shoulder
blades you feel my erect penis against your bottom. Slowly my tongue
moves to the right until I am licking the fleshy part of your back
next to the shoulder blade. I kiss it, I suck it into my mouth. You
feel my teeth. Lightly at first. Just teasing nibbles. First one side,
then the other.

Slowly each bite gets harder, and lasts longer than the one before
it. Then I kiss the sore spot and bite the other side. It seems like
this lasts for hours, if not a lifetime. Just as you expect another
bite, you feel the soft, sensuosly smooth sensation of fur on your
back. Covered with bites, your back is exquisitely sensitive and the
pleasurable sensations that the rabbit fur bring are almost sexual in
their intensity. I lightly rub it over your shoulder blades, your
shoulders, across your neck and down your spine.

You feel the softness of the fur as it strokes your bottom. Down the
back of your leg, lightly tickling the sole of your left foot. Then up
the inside of your left calf. When it gets to your knee the progress
slows. You feel the softness of it on the inside of your thigh as it
ever so slowly reaches further up. You feel burning wetness inside of
you as it reaches your lips, and just lightly brushes them as it
crosses to the inside of your right thigh. Down the inside of your
right thigh, past the knee, down the calf, lingering on the sole of
your foot, then up the back of your calf, and your thigh, to once
again carress your naked buttocks.

Casting the fur Aside, I massage your bottom, then up your back. the
pleasure of the massage playing counterpoint to the sting of the
skin. I massage your shoulders, then your biceps. I lie on top of you
and you feel my chest hairs against your back as I massage your
hands. I kiss the nape of your neck. My tongue traces the line of your
chin and you feel my warm breath against the side of your
face. Electric shivers run down your spine when I suck your earlobe
between my lips, and again as I bite it.

I place something against the back of your head. It feels like some
sort of a strap. Then everything goes dark as I slide the blindfold
over your eyes.

You feel some slack in the cuffs as I slide you towards the head of
the bed. As I turn you over on your back, the slack is just enough
that your wrists are crossed with your hands over your head. With my
calves on either side of your thighs, I sit with my weight supported
by your pelvis. My fingers lightly ticke the insides of your forearms,
your biceps. They trace around the outside of your breasts, then the
undersides. Your nipples harden as I roll them between my thumb and
forefinger. I suck first one nipple into my mouth, then another. I
gently bite your left nipple, then your right. Again your left nipple,
a little harder this time, then your right.

You feel me lean forward and pick something up of the headboard. You
feel the cold of a metal chain as it is dragged across your shoulder,
then in zig-zags across your chest. After it stops, you realize what
it is when you feel the pressure of the nipple clamp on your left
nipple, and moments later a matching sensation on your right
nipple. The chain connecting the two clamps is no longer cold as it
lies across your chest, just below your breasts. The sensation is
slowly getting more intense with time, and you feel pulses shoot
through you as I lift the chain and wiggle it causing the clamps to
twitch both nipples.

Laying the chain back across your breasts, I lightly lick the
undersides of your breasts, sucking the soft flesh into my mouth. A
light nip of the soft underside of your breast provides counterpoint
to the increasing sensation from the nipple clamps. I suck and lightly
bite the underside of each breast, then flick my tongue across first
one, nipple then another. The sensation of pressure on your nipples is
starting to be painful as I stop licking the nipples. The pain briefly
intensifies as the nipple clamps are removed.

You hear a quiet tinkle, then feel something hard and smooth against
each nipple. With them still tingling from the clamps, it takes you a
moment to recognize the cold from the ice cubes. At first it feels
cool, and soothing. Then the cold starts to become uncomfortable,
until I lightly trace spirals around each aureola, and then each
breast. The ice cubes leave tracks of cold water down your belly, and
a small amount puddles in your navel. For several minutes you lie
there feeling the ice trace sensations over your naked body, until the
small cubes have completely melted.

You feel my fingers trace outlines on your cheeks, and down your
chin. My knees press your thighs apart and I lay on top of you. You
feel my tongue lightly brush your lips. You feel the warm wetness of
my lips against yours, as I gently and delicately kiss you. As my
tongue enters between your lips, and my kisses become more passionate,
you feel my penis harden once again, the head of it teasing against
your eagerly waiting entrance. As I move to kiss your neck, my hot
breath briefly in your ear, my penis pulls away, but the ghost of the
memory lingers in your mind.

My kisses travel down the middle of my front. As my long wavy hair
teases and tickles first your breasts then your belly, you realize
that I had let it out of its pony tail. As my kisses reach lower, your
anticpation reaches higher. You can feel my breath where you want my
lips to be when I bite you on the inside of your thigh. I don't bite
you very hard, but as with the nipple clamps the sensation intensifies
with time. Letting go with my teeth, I kiss the tender spot, and then
lick it. Then I lick you again, each time closer and closer until you
feel the lightest stroke just across the edge of your lips.

At first I lick the outside of your lips, then my hands spread your
thighs wide and hold them down as I part your lips with my
tongue. Under the ministrations of my mouth the pleasure
intensifies. As I suck on your clitoris I slip a finger inside of you
and rub that special spot inside that gets harder the more turned on
you get. The feelings rush over you and straining against the cuffs on
your wrists and your toes curling uncontrollabley you let out a scream
of pleasure as orgasm after orgasm washes over you.

he vibes my wire

2003-09-30T16:27:00.000-07:00

the one who brought my domme to life

Stranger. Hmm....
Strange it is how we both like the warm pool under the fig tree, with
the hot plume of fire from "the source" across the wall. Some of my
furthest journeys into inner space have been in that pool, gently being
floated around, wondering what it would be like to do so with a few
toys, against my will. Maybe a rubber hood, locked on, beading water,
catching rays, heating up. Not of will to resist the relaxation washing
over my body. Yes, it's getting me hard all right thinking about that.
Wondering what it would be like to be the freak on a leash in such a
"non-judgmental" space. Would the others understand where I was going,
the warm, protected space at the core of the addiction? Would I care if
I couldn't see them, but only feel the pull of the leash as I am walked
up the hill by the massage office, naked but for a rather deviant
chastity device that you affixed to me as I slept? So painful that damn
thing is when I start getting aroused, yet you provoke it anyway,
whispering sweet nothings in my rubber covered ears, giving my sac a
gentle but progressively devastating squeeze, making your desire of my
tongue at your delicately manicured toes a reality through the most
sexual of coercion.
[Note to self: don't forget about Sierraville...]
Is it strange like that? Or stranger? Tell me about the whimsy of your
inner freak lately. The whole CL debacle was too bad, but not
unexpected. But I will not leave you. No, I am just starting to get
closer. Closer and safer, like a warm sheepskin rug draped across the
methodical orgasmic black hole of my Sybian. Just getting familiar with
you, finding your box in the mindscape. Your box will become mine as I
pull up a floor pillow inside and bring you energy of a different
Goddess. Yours and mine, tea in your box. The games that they will
imagine for us will defy imagination of mortals, an unintelligible
cipher but for the 8-bit ascii character set encoding and words that
look like English. Yes, this shall be my gift to you. A gift that
cannot be repaid, the basis of addiction.
"First hit's on me, come on back now, ya hear?"
The addiction, yes, it's good. You remember my story of the pixie lesbo
tank grrls? Mmm, yes, their clinics and your shooting stars. Mmm, yes.
That was from my other email address, but alas I am back from the nether
regions of original sin on this globe, back to the ol' US and prefer to
use this address now. Yes, they sure get it over there, know how to
have an A1 time. Brought back some really good pornos. The stuff that
doesn't just have bimbo-chan on fours sucking off some yanqui wanna-be,
but the good stuff with the high quality toys. I couldn't believe how
far they go in those. Edge play like that, that's the stuff that the
body doesn't repair. That might be the edge that I don't want to cross.
The background audio is good in some spots, poor in others. I
especially like the intro to one of them, the hapless damsel with her
colored hazel hair and black eyes so big that you could fall in. (Oh,
those eyes have haunted me since I was a four year old, getting a hardon
when I got handcuffed to the lightpole after being captured while
playing "cops & robbers".) Wearing a red PVC nightie, shoulders to toes
in black leather strapping, squeaking gently as she sqirms on the couch
draped with a covering of thick black party naugahyde. No, it's usually
better to put some deep house or trance on the stereo. And how those
images grace the walls, bigger than life size on account of the
projector. Yes, I didn't expect to open them on the first day back, but
a little porno party ended up developing last night as friends old and
new arrived to welcome me back. How good would your lesbo vids look on
the big screen as you lie back on the sectional leather couch, hand
caught between creamy thighs, feeding your frenzy? Sure, you can borrow
the pad by yourself if you like, better that one person can feed their
addiction instead of neither.
No question though, the thought for the top of the hour is what your
inner freak desires these days. No different than days you are willing
to put up with the yuppie scum at blowfish just to eat sushi with the
manga playing in the background, there are certain cravings that are
best not left to chance. It's those I need to know about. I want to
understand when it is that you feel the dizzying need to be filled, that
feeling that inanimate is not enough, but a fist, ohhh, a fist,
squirming around inside as it looks for the right home, might be over
the top, even for you, my little junkie. Your dealer needs to know what
you crave, an idea of the fix you seek, until you realize that your
dealer has mapped your box as if on video with a GPS. It's way too late
by then, but you don't care. You've been conditioned to instantly ruin
a set of panties at the slightest touch of skin on skin, swimming on a
high like no other as you squirm in your well lubed rubber bag, unable
to move. Daddy is on vacation, and can you believe he trusted your
dealer to take care of you in the mean time? Isn't that the kicks? Did
he know that you might not like the furry bars as much as the dark,
atavistic rubber with the nubs on your mound and the sandpaper over your
tender nipples when he returned? That you might not be happy without
inflatable gags and dildoes in every orifice next time he checked in?
That you have pretty brass locks through your newly soldered piercings
down low? I'm sure he'll like that you are swimming though, for even he
never expected that it was possible for you to become quite *that* self
absorbed.
Tell me about your inner freak, Lani. Tell me the source of the craving
this week for the little subdom inside, and how you like it served. Do
you like it written from your perspective? How about when it is written
from third person, distanced from the scene as the actors act on each
other, unknowing of the inner turmoil and wonton lust going on within
the box upstairs? Not to forget about second-person, where I am writing
about my ministrations to your mind and body from my own perspective.
Or do you like a mix? Is the inner freak currently submissive, yearning
for the probes, the taste of occasional flesh for a job well done and
craving the fix, or the powerful Domme, with Her toy in tow, making him
pliable for his week of brutal evisceration at the other world kingdom
next month? Having said that, how hard do you like it? Does that
cattle prod turn you off, or does it scare you? Does it scare you
because you've heard of it's violence, or because you've experienced its
explosion? Do you like to scream? What of some favorite toys,
positions, predicaments? Have you ever taken the BDSM purity test?
What did you get on it? (For all those posts on the purity test to
yuppieville, this freak wonders why nobody responded with an answer...)
Mmm. That I have touched you again makes me just a little woozy, all
with almost losing you again like that. Experiencing that spark the
first time, then the almost impossible self control of graciously
letting it go to show you that there is no canine in my breed. And
evaluate I have, the predicament of your connection to someone without
the goods to keep you alive. But alas, I have decided that your allure
is too strong even for my strength in self control. I won't have
anything that you don't give, even as my desire grows through craving to
need and lust.
It's been so long since the last lifetime we spent together. I can't
wait to hear back from you...
Yours in fetish dreams.

somewhere in downtown san francisco, he smells me

2003-09-30T16:26:00.000-07:00

yes, my reverse fetish

Today I divorced myself from everything, from the parts that for me form your image--fingernails, hair, lips, teeth, pigtails, tights and yes the flower that your tights will reveal. But it is night, I am back, undivorced, writing, and something stirs as I write.

I am in an office with one glass wall, opening on to an inner gallery, on to the offices of others. But it is Sunday night, there is no one here. Unless someone comes in. I can at least unbutton my jeans and slide them down, just off my ass, and sit back onto the hard leather seat of my chair. I can tighten my belt around my testicles, leaving the shaft free to swell, free to extend itself beyond my pants as a nerve antenna to trace your signal. The belt trails down between my legs, my balls hang just off the edge of the chair, I can feel the air above and below, I can feel the stretching of my skin. I stand, and lead the belt back between the cheeks of my ass, now I can grab it reaching over my shoulder, and pull. The belt tightens around my sac, my balls pop out behind me, I push against the leather, the belt tightens, I pull and the pressure increases. I stand, my pants drop to my ankles, my balls are bright red and banging back against my ass as I jerk the belt. The leather smacks against the skin of my back. My limber antenna purples at its head, on the hunt for you, where are you? where are you?

My body starts to thrust, out of control, each thrust cinching the belt. My shaft arcs, strong in isolation, strong in its vocation: if I could make it outside now, even hobbled ridiculously by my pants, struggling against my strangling belt like a water witch, I would find you, I would be drawn by the tip of my dick like a magnet deep into your wet cunt. I want to reach for myself, to imagine you, to imagine your touch. . .

Someone's coming in. Into the gallery. The light, turn it off, I've turned off the light in my office. It is dark inside, behind the glass. The gallery is only just lit. I can't stop. I can't stop now. I give in to the belt, spread my legs against the cotton handcuffs round my ankles, bend low, and haul on the belt to rip my balls back up the crack of my ass. And then I thrust against the cinch, feeling the air. The starkness of my penis, stretched away from the sheltering skin of my sac and balls, lifts out toward the glass. She walks by. She's Chinese, she shares the office two doors away, she's mature but young, she wears a plaid Tam o'shanter (that can't be). I arch back, hold the flat plane of my hipbones to the sky, to be sure if she looks in, if she senses something, it is the crooked finger of my dick that she sees, beckoning. But she misses me in the dark behind the sliding door to my office. (She can't be you.) She's forgotten something or needs something (can it be that she needs a good fuck right here on the floor?), which she retrieves. I would take her here, on top of me, she could ride my arched back and curved pole and drive her heels into my flanks. She could rip my pectorals with her nails. If only she were you.

I am alone. I want to spill everything, without touching myself, my mind's eye seeing you in your soft-barred cage reaching one hand for me, one is all, one touch and I'll pour out, electrified, convulsed and pulsing, my unending river of hot white jism. Take it. Stretch it with your fingers, smear it on your mons, your thighs, rub across me slipping in the lake of my warm white inside-out.

Do you care? About any of this? Of course not. You're consumed by the public nature of your eroticism. It's breathtaking, I admit. But I write only to you. Whether you perform for the list or not. I am just your token, I'm sure. One of them. Your reverse fetish. Tuned only to you. Because I will feel you, one day, soon, before you fade, and smell you. And know who you are.

man prays for desire

2003-09-30T16:23:00.000-07:00

club boys can be sensitive, too

Here's how I'd meet you otherwise:

You're dancing by yourself, some mission place wed night late, maybe black mesh top with black masking tape x over each nipple and a faraway look that could be heroin-fueled detachment or a post-coital glow. You catch me leering at you, a little too insistent to be just a wanna-be freak. Eye contact gives way to staring until you come over to me. I'm calling you by the way I'm staring at you, scanning up and down your body as if I might choose to eat you, or not. You're drawn to this mix of bald hunger and a chilly non-chalance that feels a bit dominant....

You come over to me and without saying a word I close your eyelids with my fingertips, traipsing the ends of my fingers down along your cheeks, moving slowly into your mouth, opening it with two fingers. I feel your tongue with the fingers of one hand, slip the other gently behind your ear, outlining the fall of hair behind your ear, smoothing out the hair in a way that is simultaneously worshipful and possessive.

Your heart pounds a bit faster realizing that you are letting a complete stranger put his fingers into your mouth. Your eyes are closed. Neither of us have said a word.

"Turn around," I say in a voice that is neither a demand nor a request. It sounds more like a fact.

You turn around, feel my hands at your sides, my mouth open on the back of your neck. You arch your back into me, expose your neck and realize that if I were a wolf or a vampire you are in the perfect position to be bitten into.

I open my mouth and draw my teeth closed across your skin, ending with a small strip of your flesh between my teeth, right above the jugular. You body temperature heightens, your lower body quivers a bit and arches back into me, and I reach around and open your mouth again with my fingers, exploring as if I were some sick and needy dentist bare-handedly examining your oral cavity, massaging your teeth, gums, tongue and inner cheeks as if my fingers were themselves little mouths that fed on you, from the inside.

I'm finger-finger fucking your mouth, thinking about finger-fucking your cunt, and yet somehow you also are aware of the fact that tonight you will end up fucking me in the ass with a strap-on I will put around you. If this is role play the roles are quite fluid ...

That's how I'd meet you otherwise.

In reality, we have this. Which of course can be expanded into whatever we want.

In the meantime know this: lazily kissing your neck hours later, draping fingers over hips, navels, nipples, it comes upon us as a kind of awareness that this sort of play isn't just pointless freakishness, but really a kind of prayer.

how real am I?

2003-09-30T16:21:00.000-07:00

this one saw me in his mind's eye

Now that I've seen you (yes, I'm sure, 100 percent), I may change my mind. Challenge myself. To sate your lust on my own, only, one by one, and in bunches, across the complete and unending range of your desire. No random black men in hotel rooms. No strange (and as-yet unthought) and orgiastic displays of women on women and dogs on men. No greased bodies of others bound together with silk, strong women fisting stronger men till they cry out and come.

Well, perhaps a few of these. At some point. . .

But for now, me. Just me.

(How real are you?)

It means you'll have to travel. It's a full itinerary, with high spots and low. Can you handle it, I wonder? Transported (in your soft cage) to Istanbul (it's a place that's coming up, an easy one) scoring hash in the covered market, then losing ourselves in the vast eggshell dome of the Aya Sofia, staring at the huge green strokes of Arabic and making out like the Turkish teenagers. Then landing outside at the cafe, in the air of a warm night lying across wool pillows in the outdoor cafe to sip Turkish coffee, listen to Anatolian folk songs. On the pillows, with the flicker of oil lamps revealing us only to ourselves, to let your hand stray over my curved rod, pluck open a few buttons to stroke its head, to feel the back of my hand slip upward along the bone of your ankle, the skin of your thigh, until it's just there against your dripping wet fur and you can push against, slide across it, and soak me with the trail of your excitement.

One time in Istanbul with a Turkish woman, I made love an entire day in the fourth-floor corner room of the hotel Empress Zoe. Old yellow-clay stone walls, and bright new wood windows, open to the Bosporus Straits, open to the Marmara Sea. The curtains were blown across my back by the breeze, it was hot as hell and we poured sweat--her body was tiny like a girl's, her pussy was shaved, she had never been fucked in the ass, she had never been tongued in the ass, at one point I reached across the hard bed and grabbed a couple of the fresh figs, crushed them against her skin, added oil, and slid amid the oil and sweet grit deep into her. I carried her around the room, smashed her against the wood of the wall, wore her into the shower and fucked her on the floor with the cool water running all over us.

And no one knew she was there except me and the hotel guy. He wanted her too, he was fascinated by her apparent availability, but more than that he wanted to be sure that I knew that I had to marry her. No, I said, with me she is free.

But you. In Istanbul. And away from there. We'll grab the hash and head out for the plains of Anatolia, Kappadokia, where the soft sandy earth was tunneled and shaped by men 1200 years ago into cone houses and cave houses and incredible, arid desert vistas. We'll walk out in late afternoon, daring the night to enfold us, I'll start by spreading a light cloth over the sand, we'll eat dolmas and draw with their oil on our skin. We'll finish hours later, your cunt still pulsing and clutching lightly on my cock. Above us, in warm night sky, meteors streak across like cat scratches in the sky, and explode.

(Bruised, a little? Virtual nerves sawing at the real ones? A natural outcome, you've done a mighty thing. "You" are in the minds of many, and deeply in them minds of a few. And now, who knows? Stay bold. Keep writing. You're safer than you feel right now.)

But Istanbul's easy, I've said that. What about the other stops? What about a hotel room in Harare? Or in Almaty? Or perhaps I'll get called back to Zurich (god, Zurich, what a beautiful town) and we'll swim miles and fuck in the Zurich See.

provoking a sacred mood

2003-09-30T16:19:00.000-07:00

yet another response provoked by dope j stimulus

You reminded me of a sacred mood.

So tired from endlessly torcing path of mud and rock.
The truck's shocks and rattling bed and compressing cartilege in my back and
neck jarred and thumped together in the blinding heat and humidity.
A quick stop on the roadside for giant cucumbers. A temporary quenching.
The hilltribes came out to sell skins. Earlier in the day I had passed a
few kilometers with a dead doe in my lap. The animal had been shot by a
proud young Lahu man whose wife had shaved her brow as a sign of fidelity.
On we rode through the subtropical jungle, stopping here and there for
short-trip souls moving from one village to another, mirroring the Mekong.

All who jumped on the truck took notice of us first. But we had never
exchanged words; only a few furtive glances. I was so tired. Zhongguo had
temporarily broken my morale, and the ride was punishing my back. Yet, I
had observed my silent companion interact with this new land when the truck
stopped. Women on the roadside felt comfortable with her. The Hmong ladies
on the border helped her find a comfortable place to pee off the road, as
she didn't have a sarong, and couldn't squat with the facility they
employed. She touched people with whom she came into contact, especially
the women. She never spoke.

I think I caught her peering at me once on the journey. When I caught her
stare she merely offered a benign smile and then slowly allowed her gaze to
move to the rushing rice fields surrounding, as if she had allowed her eyes
to take in my face and the green world around as colors mix on a palate or a
musician changes chords. She was somehow seemless. I felt an attempt to
communicate with her would only defile the mood she set.

She had several colours of paint on her hands and jeans and her green
Chinese military canvass shoes. Her ink black hair was settled with
crystals of red dust from the road, like a light earthen ochre. She had few
possessions; only a small canvass pack. But she had all manner of
interesting jewelry. I guessed she had been to many of the surrounding
lands. Around her neck was bone. On her wrists hung jade and silver, and
her little toe had a tiny gold band. Just at the base of her lower back she
was tatooed with a tiny golden apple.

Maybe I became drowsy pondering her. Perhaps she too had fallen asleep by
the time we both heard the screaming. The man who spilled from the truck
had certainly fallen asleep. A dip in the rough clay claimed his languid
body in an effortless moment. His daughter, or whoever the young girl with
him was, sent out a shriek that cannot be described. It issued from same
place within her chest that she was just discovering herself; a room inside
her with such a resonance that her scream could carve its way into a hidden
room in all of the passengers, especially us two unaquainted foreigners.

The driver of the truck also heard this piercing cry, but his sluggish
response seemed to suggest this would not be a new scene to him. If
anything he appeared to feel inconvenienced. He would have to stop and deal
with a dead man.

The man indeed was dead. Judging by the way he lay on the road, he landed
on his head an broke his neck. The young girl with him was hysterical. Two
local women, who had recently joined the passengers, attempted to console
her by sandwiching her in their breasts and making a shhhhh! sound with odd
smiling resolve. They were not clinging to this moment of death. But, my
silent friend and I were ensnared. We weren't prepared to experience this
loss. We mistook the others' resolve for glibness. We were seeing
ourselves and each other, with no words exchanged, as souls from worlds of
comfort and security. We had both traveled extensively; but somehow still
expected the cold reassurance of society to appear and tend to the dead.
There was no such appearance. The man's body was hoisted into the truck bed
with us and we continued on our journey.

When we finally arrived in the northern capitol, the locals quickly met with
the town police and began to explain the common incident on the road. I
collected my bag from the top of the truck and helped my friend, with whom I
had still conversed none at all, to reach her pack.
I choked out: 'are you tired?' She responded with: 'Hmmmm? Taiyuhd?' She
made both hands like a pillow and lay her head on them, giving me an
inquisitive look. I nodded my head and she sighed: 'oh, so so. Yes, I am
tired.'

We walked past temples that I had anticipated seeing all week; but I had no
energy to stop and see the gold-leafed compassion now. My senses were
filled with the sounds of gekkoes and the smell of papaya, and the sweet
pollution of death.

We checked into a teak house near the river where I had stayed before. Kun
was there. Kun. How did he know. That amazing man saw something looming
around us. Like he could read our silent familiarity with one another; our
collective sadness or longing or fatigue. I can't say we knew what we were
feeling. But as we entered the teak balcony that Kun had cleared for us, we
realized that we were complete strangers who wouldn't dare be separated at
that moment. Maybe Kun thought we were lovers, maybe he had no other rooms
available. We made no protest.

She went downstairs to wash in the basin. Kun told me he remembered me from
months before. Did I want a mango shake? Some soup? What happened man?
You look veddy strange man. I told him about the occurence on the road. I
could see that he felt sorry for me. He could tell that I was rattled by
the scene and fatigued from the 18 hour jarring road, like a person
disoriented from a fever or bad dream. He patted me on the back and said:
'try to relax, my friend; I'll visit you later, and bring some perfume and
water.

I went down to wash on the other side of the house. The water in the basin
was cool and the washroom was filled with gekkoes. They moved in deliberate
bursts of energy, punctuated by long stretches of stillness. They ate
mosquitoes and looked at me with that paradoxical reptilian stare. I am
more ancient than intelligence itself. I am simpler than mere reflex; yet
have the wisdom and longevity of stone and fire.
A small golden bodhisattva perched above the mirror. There was a gekko on
his head.

When I returned to the room, my friend was not there. I lay down and dozed.
Kun appeared with a plate of papaya and banana and began to hang
embroidered tapestries around the latticed balcony windows. He was closing
out the world from our little teak enclosure. He lit candles and filled
glasses of water. 'So you don't need to walk downstairs, man.' He then
opened a small wooden box in the corner of the balcony. I stayed supine on
the cotton mat on the floor. Kun brought a pyramid cushion up next to me
and began to prepare his perfume. He pulled out of the box a small plastic
wrapper of deep red-black sap and began scraping it off the plastic with a
wire. He mixed the sap with a little ash and formed a cone.

She returned to the room as Kun prepared the oil lamp and formed a plastic
cone from a water bottle to place around the flame, ensuring that no draft
was disturb its perfect shape.

She regarded Kun and his medical-like procedure with curiosity. She then
smiled at us both and sat down next to me on an adjoining mat. From a small
wool shoulder bag she removed a little piece of course paper and handed it
to me with two hands. It was a water colour. It was a tiny portrait of my
face. The expression I wore in the portrait was contemplative and sad. She
looked at me with a deep affection and sadness and sad: 'sorry, my English.'
'No, no, please,' I sad. 'It's okay, I understand. Thank you. Thank
you.' She smiled warmly and relieved, and looked at Kun forming a dark
brown sticky cone and placing it on the ball of a pipe. She then placed her
hand on mine and smiled again and said: 'thank you.' I looked at the
picture. She had signed the bottom: 'Sato Imai.'

I told Kun to perfume her first. She reclined on the mat and Kun placed a
pyramid pillow beneath the nape of her neck. He then handed her the mouth
of the long pipe shaft and he directed the large wooden ball to the flame.
The cone of sap began to bubble and steam with the heat of the flame. Sato
sucked hard on the pipe. She knew how to smoke. I knew that she was
getting a proper lung of the perfume. She sent out a billowing blue plume
of smoke and her eyes closed. She embraced the sick seduction of the sap
with no hesitation. She opened her eyes and smiled softly at us. Kun then
prepared two more cones for her and I could see that she had found her
preferred zone with the sap.

Kun then came to me with his knowing smile. He had brought us perfume. He
had brought us fruit and water. He knew we were exhausted and shaken from
observing tragedy. By now, with his grey beard smile, it was obvious that
he could see we didn't know each other but were experiencing a comfort with
being together -- a surprise that comes from an understanding that there is
no need to burden the beauty around us with words.

Did Kun know that the most important reason we needed each other that night
was because we had ridden with a dead man for hours in the back of a truck.
That experience seemed to hang around both of our necks. It made me want
crawl in her chest. She smiled at me as I smoked. 'Feel good?' She asked.
'Oooh,' as the cloud emerged from my mouth, 'yes, I feel good.'

Kun left the room with a huge smile. 'You can give me some money before you
leave man, don't worry. I wish you happinett!' He said in an excited
whisper.

'Sato,' I whispered.
'Yes.'
'I am Ben.'
We both laughed lightly. What did it matter; we simply needed sounds to
signify each other.
'You see girl today?' She asked.
'Yes.'
'Crying. I not hear before.'

She crawled over to me, and put her head on my chest. We were both consumed
by the sweet sap in our bloodstreams. We were feeling absolute obliteration
of all capicity for neurosis or anxiety. Our bodies were like drum skins.
Surrounding sounds were no longer outside our ear drums, they were commands
from our minds teaching the world how to tap our senses. We had conspired
in observing with fascination the limp body for hours before in the
relentless heat. The drone of the engine could still be conjured. The
bumps in the road revealed the utter abandon of the body. How beautiful the
relaxation of death. How much it made us want to feel our control over our
senses. How simply the universe pulled a father or uncle or lover away from
a girl. How well did those souls know each other? There was no need to
record or chronicle; just the passing of a soul and the transformation of
others. We would now commemorate our own transformation.

Slowly we let the night air into our clothes and replaced them with each
others skin and caresses, kisses and sips of water, a piece of papaya fed to
a moist mouth, a light pouring of drinking water down the smooth sluice of a
back. The opium had excited my blood; yet relaxed my reflexes to complete
muscular control.

No sensitivity was lost on the drug, but stimulation was allowed to simmer
and be imbued with more thirst and hunger. So relaxed and so stimulated at
once, we worked together to release ourselves from the tantalizing carnation
we had already perfected, as if we needed to shed skin. She sat still in a
yabyum position, the soft black hair between her legs blending with mine. I
was inside her warmth so deeply now that she merely had to shift on her
perfect seat and allow more warmth in, like balancing the poles within each
of her atoms. There was a light in which she wanted to be enveloped or an
edge over which she wanted to be pushed, or a dreamer who she needed to
conjure her up in a dream. She was enveloped in our soft cage of fur and
the sweet sap inside her was melting her into my chest.

(This is was could be a real moment and you conjured it up). Respond.

someone wants to be a step-daddy

2003-09-30T16:17:00.000-07:00

more inspired fiction

You knelt, naked, at your Step-daddy's feet and
tenderly kissed each of my palms. Your chest felt
tight as you looked up into my eyes. You watched as
I undressed, pulling off my shirt and revealing my
broad, strong chest. You licked your lips as you
thought of sucking on my nipples. Your Step-daddy
stepped closer to you and stroked your hair,
cupping your face in my large hands. You leaned your
face against my
body, your cheek against the hard bulge in my pants
and slid your
face along it, inhaling my wonderful scent. I
stepped back away
from you and your eyes followed my hands as I
unbuttoned my
jeans. Your breathing came faster and you felt your
heart begin to pound as I stood naked before you.
"Oh, Step-daddy. You are so beautiful." I smiled
at you and
began stroking my cock. You watched my strong hands
caress the
smooth skin of my cock, knowing I'd allow you to
touch me, to
taste me, and even to have me inside you if you
pleased me. Your
nipples hardened as you watched, your mouth
salivating.

"Tell me what you want step-daughter," I spoke
softly, "and if you
are very good, I may give it to you."
You tried to swallow, your feelings overflowing, as
you thought of all you wanted. You wanted all of me
inside all of you, inside your mouth, your cunt, your
ass. You wanted to see approval in my eyes, and hear
praise in my voice. You wanted to make me happy, any
way you could.
"What I want most Step-daddy," you said
breathlessly, "is to please
you. Let me taste you please, Step-daddy?" you could
almost feel the
silky smooth skin of my cock against your tongue as
you thought of how badly you wanted me there. You
watched me move closer to you and felt your pussy
throb as you saw a tiny drop glisten on the tip of my
cock.
"Oh please... please let me taste you Step-daddy."
I smiled at you and said, "Do not move a muscle, or
I will
take it away and not allow you to have it." You
froze. your muscles
were already tense and tight from wanting your
Step-daddy's cock in your
mouth. You watched as I moved closer, feeling the
heat from my
skin against your face. You felt my tip rub against
your lips, spreading
my precum over them. You wanted to taste it so much,
but kept still,
afraid of losing me. "Close your eyes,
step-daughter."
You closed your eyes, feeling my heat, so close to
you, and
smelling my masculine scent, just under your nose.
You could feel my
precum drying slightly on your lips, and just then, I
traced
them again with my cock, re wetting them. You felt
my cock move up
your right cheekbone, then across your left, leaving a
wet trail on your skin. Then I moved away and you
could no longer feel my heat
close to you. You listened intently, waiting for a
sound that would give you a clue as to where I was,
not daring to displease me by
opening your eyes. You felt the air move, my warmth
close to you again, and your heart beat faster in
anticipation. my cock rubbed over your left eyelid
and down the bridge of your nose, tracing a line down
to your lips. You moaned lowly at the effort it took
to remain motionless, when all you wanted was to have
me deep in your throat, to feel me against your
tongue, and oh, yes, to taste my cum. You swallowed
again. You felt me walk behind you and then my hands
were on your arms, pulling them back as I fastened
soft leather lined cuffs
around your wrists. your breasts thrust forward as
you knelt with your
hands bound behind you, and I reached down and
pinched a
nipple. You bowed your head, savoring the sensation.
"Lick your lips step-daughter. Wet them well for
me." You eagerly
licked them, finally tasting the saltiness you so
desperately craved
and moaning softly. my cock rubbed against your
lips again and I
opened them slightly. You whimpered in disappointment
as your Step-daddy
pulled away, "Look at me step-daughter." You opened
your eyes and looked up
at your wonderful Step-daddy. "Now, tell me what you
really want step-daughter."
Ypu took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh,
"Oooh, please
let me taste your cock Step-daddy..... I need to feel
you in my mouth,
....oh please, please let me Step-daddy." your mouth
watered even
more as you begged and you ran your tongue along your
lips again.

Your Step-daddy moved to stand in front of you again
and nodded
my permission, "but remember, you may not cum until
I command
you to step-daughter." You eagerly swallowed my
cock, moaning as you buried
your face against my pubic hair, feeling me fill you.
You felt my hands on the back of your head, holding
you there, as the warm tingly
feeling in your chest became a hot burning sensation.
I pulled your
head back off my cock and you quickly took a deep
breath, filling your lungs with air once again. You
moaned again as I gently cupped your head in my big
hands and began to pump in and out of your mouth.
your pussy throbbed and your nipples sent sparks
shooting downward
to your clit each time the hair of my legs brushed
against them. your
lips grew more and more tender with each hard thrust.
my hands
held your head tighter, helping me to balance against
my thrusting.

You covered your teeth with your lips and closed them
around my cock,
tonguing my head each time I pulled back. With
each moan you
heard from your Step-daddy,your entire body throbbed
more intensely. I
felt your air cut off each time I thrust in and
pushed against the
back of your throat, my balls slapping hard against
your chin. your
teeth cut into your lips as I pounded into your
mouth, fucking you. I
moaned as you felt my cock swell in your mouth ,your
pussy throbbing
harder.
Then you heard your Step-daddy moan loudly, "Ooooooh
yes my cute little step-daughter!
Cum with me now!" and your body exploded, every
muscle
tightening and contracting as my cock exploded
against the back of
your throat. I held you tight to me,your face hard
against my groin
as we both came. The waves of your orgasm washed
over you as you
felt your Step-daddy's cock throb in your mouth and
my cum drip down your
throat, my obvious pleasure increasing the intensity
of your own
orgasm. You happily drank every drop and suckled me,
draining me.
As my cock softened,you took a deep breath again,
closed your eyes
and rested your face against me, caressing my cock
with your
tongue.
You felt my hands gently smooth the hair away from
your face
and cup your cheeks, moving your hips back. You felt
a sudden
emptiness as I pulled my cock away from your mouth.
I reached
down and pulled you to your feet, wrapping my strong
arms around
you. You felt me kiss your forehead and then I dipped
my head lower
to kiss your lips, still sticky with my cum. You
sighed happily, "Oh
thank you Step-daddy."
I ran my hands down your arms and over the cuffs
still
Around your wrists and grinned at you, "Did you think
we were
finished, my cute little step-daughter?"
You laughed, felt the soreness of your lips and your
pussy began
throbbing again, remembering how your Step-daddy had
made them so
so tender. You leaned against me, reaching up to kiss
me,your naked
body tight against my. You pressed your lips hard
against my and
sucked my tongue into your mouth. You felt your
chest tighten with
happiness and your heart fill with love. You
whispered, "You are a
wonderful Stepdaddy."
You heard me chuckle at you as I kissed the top of
your head
and removed the cuffs from your wrists, rubbing your
arms to restore
circulation. You reached up and ran them over my
shoulders, up my
neck and pulled my head down to yours so that you
could kiss me
again. You sighed happily as I held you tight,
feeling so safe and
secure in my arms, knowing that you were mine, and
that I'd take care of you. Your Step-daddy reached up
and grasped your wrists, pulling them away, and led
you over to the wall, instructing you to lean
against it, palms touching the wall. You watched as
I fit my hands
into a pair of leather sleeves attached to the wall,
binding your wrists together. Your pussy started
throbbing again as I pushed a finger into your mouth
for you to suck. You grazed your teeth over my finger
as I pulled it out and then traced each nipple. You
felt them grow hard as rocks as I spread your saliva
over them. I walked away and left you there,
returning after a few minutes with a black bag.

Your stepdaddy pulled a blindfold from the bag and
tied it around your eyes, turning your world to
darkness. You heard me rustling in the bag again and
then felt my hands at your breasts. You cried out in
pleasure and pain as I fastened clamps on your
nipples. The throbbing that had begun earlier
intensified as your nipples ached in rhythm with your
clit and you moaned low in your throat.

You felt your Step-daddy's breath on the back of your
neck. your skin
broke out in goose bumps as my lips gently brushed
against your
neck. You moaned as I sucked hard, leaving light
bruises all over
your skin. I trailed my fingers down your waist and
whispered,
"Now, you lovely little step-daughter, what am I
going to do with you...." you felt my energy move
away from you. You waited, listening for me.
"My cute little step-daughter, what do you want?"
"Only to please you Stepdaddy." You felt me near you
again, my
energy burning into you. your body trembled in
anticipation. You
moaned again as I flicked my fingers against the
nipple clamps.

You felt my breath next to your ear, "Then please me
by
cumming. Now adorable step-daughter." Pleasure
exploded inside you, spreading outward, causing your
body to convulse,your knees to draw in as your muscles
tightened.

You cried out, "Aaaaahhh Step-daddy!" and felt my
body press
close behind yours, my fingers tweaking at the
clamps on your
breasts. I wrapped an arm around your waist, holding
me up as
your orgasm intensified, drawn out longer as I pulled
on the nipple
clamps. your spasms slowed and I held you close,
stroking your
stomach and breasts as your breathing slowed.
My hands traveled down your thighs and back up your
ass,
then around to your stomach and down to cup your
dripping pussy.
your Stepdaddy dipped a finger in your wetness and
then you heard him
sucking your juices off, heard my soft, "mmm." You
felt my hands slide back down your body and push into
your cunt again. You could smell your own special
scent, stronger now, and then I traced your lips with
a
wet finger, pushing it inside your mouth for you to
suck clean. I
whimpered as I suddenly moved away and you were left
there alone,
arms still held in the leather sleeves and
blindfolded.
From a distance,you heard my voice, "Spread your
legs,
My step-daughter." You quickly opened your legs as
far as you could. You felt my energy near again, and
then I was pushing a spreader bar between your
ankles, spreading you further. I pulled your ankles
back away from
the wall and caressed your ass.
"You are mine, my step-daughter. Here for my
pleasure alone."you felt my
fingers trail down your spine, stopping to rub around
each hole on
my way to your clit.
"Oh yes, stepdaddy. I am yours." your body began to
tremble as
I rubbed your clit in little circles. Wanting.
Needing. "mmmm oh
Stepdaddy.. please."
I pulled my finger away from your clit, "Patience
cutie. I will allow you to cum, but not yet." You
cried out at the loss of my finger,but it turned into
a pleased moan as you felt me shove a dildo inside
your cunt. You squirmed as I began pumping the dildo
in and out. It felt huge, as though You'd been split
wide open. your cunt clenched
around it, and you grit your teeth, trying not to cum
till I commanded
you to. your moans grew louder,you were unable to be
silent as you felt me push a finger against your ass,
spreading wetness over you.

You were almost panting as I stood behind you. You
felt my hands on your hips, lifting your weight
slightly and then my hot cock against your ass. You
tried to relax your clenching muscles as I slowly
pushed into you. You cried out in pleasure as you felt
the head of your Step-father's cock pass the first
tight ring of muscle. I held still for a moment, then
pushed harder, lowering me inch by inch, until I was
buried inside you. your entire weight resting on my
cock.
"Oh Step-daddy, yessss" you growled with pleasure.
Your cunt
and ass quivering as I held your weight over me. You
felt me withdraw and then slam back into you, my
balls smashing against
your pussy, moving the dildo that was still deep
inside you. You felt
yourself losing control as your stepfather continued
to shove harder and faster inside your ass. your
thoughts were jumbled, no longer
coherent, all you wanted was to cum with your
Stepdaddy.
You begged, "Please... oh god please.. let me cum..
Please ..I need to cum.. oh god stepdaddy,I can't
stand it any more!" you screamed with each thrust,
your ass and cunt
and clit throbbing in time with your racing heart.
your body was a
mass of nerve endings, seeking release. You heard me
cry out
and let your weight rest on my cock, as I grabbed
your nipples and
pulled against the clamps.
I uttered one word, "Cum." And your body exploded,
writhing over. You felt my cock expand inside your
ass, and then a
warm flood as I came. I pulled out some and shoved
back
hard, all your weight on my cock, on my hips as my
fingers pulled
against your nipples. your orgasm seemed to go on
forever, each
thrust causing a new wave of sensation to sweep over
your body.
I slowed my thrusting and gently placed your feet
back on the
ground. You felt my cum dripping down the inside of
your thighs as I
pulled out of your ass and leaned down to remove the
spreader bar.
I kissed you tenderly as I removed the blindfold.
your Stepfather
straightened and loosened the leather sleeves,
holding your body as
you started to fall. You looked up at your stepfather,
safe and happy in my
arms and smiled languidly. I picked you up and
carried you to
bed, laying you gently down, and lying next to you.
You curled your body around mine , tucking your leg
between mine, sighing contentedly.

I looked into your eyes, "You have pleased me well
tonight."
You smiled happily, "I love being your daughter." You
fell asleep in my arms, thrilled that you had pleased
your Step Father, feeling loved and protected and
cherished.

inspired FICTION

2003-09-30T16:16:00.000-07:00

There is fantasy, and there is reality. And never the two can meet.
Even when our fantasy involves submission, we are in control. We believe and
create the scene. Control the actors and control the experience. In our
reality we only control a small portion of the scene, of our lives.
Or so I thought, or so I once believed. And the two do meet. And it goes
beyond the imagination. Leaving me without breath. Creating inside me a new
longing, a new perspective about the world in which I live. New doors open
and I am not as afraid to step inside. I should be. And eventually (soon?) I
am going to pay for that. But merging that fantasy with a strong dose of
the real, too strong a drug. Forever dependent, hooked, a junkie for life.
It started on the MUNI. I'm ahead of myself. Returning home to the
Sunset. It's Saturday afternoon. I have no plans for tonight. Another
distressed Saturday night. Home alone. Nothing like the movie. Precocious
child in need of a good spanking. I wasn't thinking about sex. No, I do. A
lot. But not this time. The bus was not crowded, yet full. I sat in the
window. Choosing not to stare out into the beyond like so many bus riding
zombies, but inward, at the people on my ride.
And I stared at the strangers, each. Refusing to make eye contact like
so many do. I mean don't, won't, as if the contact might reveal something,
forbidden. But then there was he, or they. Across from me, three or four
seats down. Facing me. Chatting, snickering, laughing with each other.
Removed from the crowd. Three of them, no four.
It is he, number four, whose eyes meet mine. I think to look away, but
don't. Neither does he. And we begin a battle of nerves fought across a
hundred miles. His features are sharp, almost handsome. Could probably clean
up ok, but not really my type. Which is? Fleeting right now. I suppose my
tastes are as fickle as the proverbial "women" from the adjective. And
finally the staring contest is broken by a whisper. Him to his friends. So I
won? Only all four are looking at me now. It is too much and I look away.
Still it took four.
I decided right there, time to go. It matters not that my stop is still
two away. The walk will do me good. It's not because of the "boys" or out
of fear. It is just a decision. Like we make everyday. Nothing to do with
anything. But it's made and we live through the consequences. I'll have to
travel through the park. But that's ok. It's still light. The day is still
in charge.
I step off the bus alone. Whatever that was, about those "boys" is lost,
gone. With hardly a second thought I begin my trek. Oh, so there is a second
thought. About those boys. Something but I can't, won't put my finger on
exactly. It is a nice day out. Gentle breeze, warm sun. everything is
beautiful on day like this. Through the park, the smell of flowers. Sigh.
Around a corner, up ahead. Those boys! My heart in my throat. (Why?) And
time stands still. (Why?) And how do I know? (200 yards at least) I stop.
(Why?) Panic? Not quite. But a sixth sense. (Why?) Did they see me?
(Impossible to say.) Change paths, change routes. (Why?) A logical
explanation somewhere.
A hundred yards later, my refuge. Public facilities are a refuge?
But the sign on the door says it all; women. I slip inside, safe. Cement
floors, cold walls covered with graffiti. Three stalls, all empty. Slipping
inside the middle one. Like the shell game, under which one?
I sit, raising my feet. No one can see. The lock, long since torn from the
hinges. Breathing. My heart in my throat. Pulse racing. (Why?) And the
silence. No noise at all. But I am aware. I am alive. Very alive. Breathing,
shaking, so very alive! One minute, or was it ten? I feel a bit silly in
everything. All this for nothing.
My feet drop to the floor. And as long as I'm here, business to attend.
Lift my skirt, pull my panties to my knees. The rush of relief. And the
sound. Breaking the stale air.
Everything changes in the beat of a heart. The door swing open. He
(they) are standing there, in front of me. I knew it. Expected it. Face it.
He steps inside. Too close. Embarrassed to be caught with my knickers down,
literally. It's not him. (The one I stared down) But his friend. The
handsome one. (I thought then)
"Don't make a sound." The voice is calm. A gentle whisper in the air. I
couldn't, even if my life depended on it. There is no air in my lungs. No
voice at all. I nod. Acknowledgement, not agreement. Does he know the
difference?
"Cunt wants it. Just look at her." A voice from behind. How could he be
so wrong.
"Do as you are told. Don't make a sound. You don't have to get hurt.
That's up to you. We are going to get what we came for, you decide if it has
to be ugly." He meets my eyes as he speaks.
"How can that be a choice? I'm already hurt. Physical pain, mental pain,
emotional train wreck. A lump in my throat. I know what he means. But the
physical manifestations of pain, nothing compared to submission.
"Cunt wants it!" that voice, faceless.
"Shut up." He barks back. My hero. He reaches down. Lifts me to my feet.
So strong. I tremble. His eyes don't blink, don't leave me, not for a
second. He pulls me close. His lips touch mine. His hand is on the back of
my neck. He pulls my hair. He kisses my mouth. His tongue invades.
I come alive. I struggle. I push him away. I'm kicking, but hobbled by
my panties, still below my knees. There is passion in his kiss. He holds me
close, making what fight I have seem so totally useless. I am his ragdoll.
How do I not kiss him back. His tongue across my teeth, dances with mine. I
never imagined a rapist could kiss soŠŠ I can't explain it.
Make no mistake. I am not willing. I am now, and will continue to be
fighting. With every once of my being. I'm pulled from the stall. Another
pair of hands, my skirt falls away. Tearing, ripping, and my panties are no
more. It is happening so fast. Fingers probing me. Touching me.
"Bitch is wet. Told you she wants it."
I was just taking a piss for christ sakes, of course I'm wet. My brain
screams. My voice is silent, except for a muffled groan of despair. And he
continues to kiss me. Really kiss me. Not a sloppy assault on my parted
lips, but a kiss of genuine passion and lust. I don't respond. But the
assault is taking it's toll. I clamp my legs together, fighting the probing
digit. No use. Hands already hold my knees apart. Open, exposed.
"I want to taste that honeypot. Before we fill it up, I just gotta taste
it." It's an unfamiliar voice, face. Just another of the crowd. And I can
feel his presence. Down there. The steam of his breath. Down there. The hand
around my throat, not choking, caressing. From the lips that are kissing.
Oh God not that. Anything but that. The tongue. Wet and warm touching,
probing. You can't do that. You can't rape me, not with your tongue. Oh fuck
not, anything but, that. He probes away. I must taste like piss, but he
continues. His assault. Parting my folds, running the length of my slit. I
can feel the tears swelling in my eyes. The humiliation of his tongue as it
caresses my sex. Touches me where I can't hold out.
I hate it, I hate him. I hate them. Everything is too much. I am dying
inside as his tongue continues to caress, taunt, taste. Oh the humiliation.
And my response. My tongue touches back. For the first time his tongue finds
a partner to dance. It's involuntary. I can't help what is happening. I
should bite down, tear his tongue from his face. Spit the bloody flesh into
the eyes of my rapist, sucking on the inner folds of my sex. And he touches
my clit. And I die a thousand deaths. His tongue teases across my bud. How
dare they make me not hate what is happening. But I can still hate them.
With every fiber of my being I can hate them.
Probing fingers on my chest. Unbuttoning my blouse. Tender, gently, one
button at a time. No hurry. I'm too destroyed to even mock a protest.
Unsnapping my bra. Fingers touching my breasts. Pinching my nipples. Now the
assault is complete. How long can he continue to kiss me. Suck the life from
me. Dancing tongues I no longer resist the kiss. My slit is wet. No longer
from the piss, but from the majesty of his assault. Too many senses at once.
Too much. Too strong. A moment of weakness. I find my strength and renew my
struggle. To escape. To get away from this moment.
I break free. As if each of them let me free as one. Each individual
assault ends. The kiss, the tongue, the fingers pinching. I stare into his
eyes. I know that look. He is still hungry. Not satiated from his assault. I
am going to be his meal. But I am free for the moment. I turn to run. To the
door. Foolishly thinking I was free. Off balance a slight push sends me
tumbling to the dirty floor. I hit my elbow. Nothing funny about the funny
bone. Who was I fooling, certainly not myself.
I lie on the floor. Now completely naked. The cold dirty cement. I feel so
debased. I look at the three looking back at me. I want to cry. I want to
scream. I want to get away. But the fourth, out of site, bars the door. Him,
the one with the tongue. The magic dancing tongue. He unfastens his belt. No
hurry.
Tightly whities. You notice the most bizarre things in a crisis. And
here he strips before me. The bulge set between his legs. No ceremony, he
shows me the prize. His cock is fully erect, jutting out in front. No
performance anxiety here. I should fight, I should run, I should do
something. But there is no where to go, no where at all. He is on me. Only
he. His comrades content to watch. I push him away. He flattens me against
the floor. He kisses my neck. I fight him off as best I can. Not enough. His
knee splits my legs. All too soon, all too fast I know I have lost. He is
between my legs now. Holding my wrists. Looking down at me, pushing himself
forward.
"NOOOOOOOOO!" It is the first words to escape my mouth since this
assault began. They echo throughout the small cavern. He slides into me in a
complete, single motion. I am full. Full of cock. His cock. I was warm and
wet and receptive. How could this happen. My struggles encourage him. His
face, inches from mine. A look of satisfaction, of lust, of victory as he
knows he is indeed inside me. I want to spit in his arrogant face. I am
flushed. His weight squishes me into the floor.
He kisses me again. I can fight off his assault. Reject his kiss. But
the fact remains, his cock is in my cunt. No penis or pussy or lovemaking.
It's a cock, not unlike the proverbial male rooster, dirty and demanding.
Invading my cunt. Filthy whore has a cunt. That's me on the floor. The
filthy whore. Let the fucking begin. His piston like action, digs deeper
with each thrust.
So I open my mouth. I let his tongue touch mine again. It doesn't change
for a moment what is happening. I'm fighting my battle elsewhere, with all
my might. I can't win everywhere. My tongue is the double agent that
provokes, entices and coddles the enemy. It's the cock I must resist.
Stabbing me. This goes on forever. Life ends and centuries pass. How can I
still be so damn wet. So warm and inviting. I can feel him reaching closer
to the edge.
How can I feel that part of him? How can I feel anything? Maybe it is
because I am so near there myself? Because I can relate? Debased and
humiliated. Lying on the dirty floor. A cock pistoning into me. My legs are
wrapped around his torso. Not inviting, fighting him. Making each thrust
more difficult. It was plain to see. How come I didn't believe it myself.
The battle ends in my defeat. The warm sticky fluid fills my womb. His
tongue retreats. He groans out the victory. He is buried as deep as he could
be. His assault paused if only to pump me full of his seed. I can't bare it.
I'm not ready. I'm not finished. I still have fight left in me. But not any
longer. No reason to resist. His come is in me. I am the foul whore that has
become his come dump. Defiled and defeated. All to fast he rolls off me. I
make no effort to escape.
My second assault. He too has stripped himself. He straddles my chest.
His cock is not erect. At least he knows what happened. Nothing erotic about
the assault that just took place. His flaccid member dangles in from of me.
I can smell the acrid odor of unwashed balls. It's fitting in the hell hole
that has become my den. The smells are too real. Sweat and urine and shit
andŠ.. sex. Yes, among the foul odors are the sweet ones. Come and sex,
pungent and overpowering.
His fingers slip between the slick folds of my sex. Expertly, this
troll touched my center. Ran his fingers over my slick nub. Slick with the
used discharge of my rapist. So why did his touch effect me so?
"Suck my cock!" as if I didn't know what he was thinking, demanding of
service from me.
His fingers gathered more of the cream between my legs. A gallon at
least. The cold slime escaped down the crack on my ass, onto the cold cement
floor. He withdrew a finger and brought it up to my lips. He rubbed it under
my nose. It smelled of him, but it also smelled of me. I quivered. He
touched my lip.
I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was because I knew what he
expected. I like to think so. I opened my mouth. Let my tongue touch the tip
of his finger. Taste it. I could feel him smile. He returned to my sex and
stroked me. Led me down the path.
"Suck me." He didn't have to tell me twice.
And the most perverse thought flashed across my conscious being; Why
not? There I was, raped. Filled with a strangers seed. Lying naked on the
dirty outhouse floor. Knowing there was so much more that was going to
happen to me. Knowing that despite the cruelty, I responded. I was the
whore, like it or not. I deserved to be there. All he wanted was to put his
thing in my mouth. For me to help engorge him. So he too could have the
pleasure of my eager flesh. It was the most humiliating moment in my life.
Opening my mouth for him.
And his fingers continued to assault my crotch. A thumb across my clit.
A finger sliding in and out, like a tiny cock. My body was no longer my own.
It was theirs, free to respond as they knew I would. I closed my eyes. I
left my body. I succumbed to inevitable. It was a completely out of body
experience. I could see myself upon the floor. Being used.
He tasted acrid. Of sweat and salt and life. It grew in moments, from the
soft spongy digit to the pole of throbbing muscle. I even licked his balls.
It was no longer me. I was a audience of one, watching the assault. Or could
you call it that. The bitch was like a dog in heat. I choked myself on his
staff, taking it as deep as I could. My cunt thrust up to meet his fingers.
His hand played my body like a musical instrument. Tuning me.
His cock throbbed in my mouth. I bobbed it into the back of my throat. I
could feel his fingers taking me to the very edge. I knew what was going to
happen. I wanted it to happen. I had so defiled myself. I had so humiliated
my being. That to come was no longer the issue. I wanted that come. I wanted
to feel the pit of my belly shake out from the center of my womb. I wanted
to taste his seed at the moment of my release. I was possessed.
And I was rewarded. That moment when you know you are going to come. And
nothing in the universe can stop it from happening. And you hold out.
Wanting to freeze that moment, hold onto it forever. And he filled my mouth
with his warm salt bile. And I was flying. I choked on the volume. My body
racked by the assault. I couldn't moan, I couldn't scream out my release.
The throbbing cock gagged me. Saved me from unbearable humiliation.
Maybe they didn't know. Maybe they thought I was choking. I was panting.
I was breathing for my life. It was easy enough to be confused. And as he
stood up over me, I turned my head to the side. Coughed and sputtered. Bile
and sperm escaping from my lips.
Number three lifted me. Turned me onto my stomach. It was mechanical. It
was so damn unromantic. He tucked my knees under my belly. He left my face
in the spermy puke. He lifted my hips. He speared me with his cock. He
filled me, He fucked me.
My beautiful trip out of my body ended. I was again inside. Like a dog.
But my knees were battered on the hard floor. And his cock pounded into my
gut. Turning my wet sloppy insides into mush. My body continued to respond,
pushing back against his assault.
It was worst that I was aware. I heard the voices as the boys talked
about my event. The silence of the first two had been replaced by a gallery
of hundreds. Or so it seemed.
"Fuck the bitch."
"Yea man, grind her out."
"She likes it hard." (I did)
"Make her beg for it."
He grabbed my hair, lifted me up. I knew what he wanted. I wasn't going
to give in to him. I was finding a new strength.
"Please." I tried to reason.
"Please what?" He asked with a mockish tone. All the while his cock
continued to assault me.
"Please stop." I thought they knew.
"Fuck cunt. You practically creamed on his hand. You like this, don't
you, don't you."
"Please." I tried to deny it. I am such a lousy actress.
"Please what." It was no use asking anymore. I wanted it to end. I never
wanted it to end.
"PleaseŠŠŠ.. " I tried. I lost. "fuck meŠŠ.. harder."
And once I let that go everything changed. The defeat was complete. The
taunting stopped. Of course the assault didn't. but it was different. My
body continued to respond. Continued to betray me. It was only a short
moment before he again pushed himself as deep into my womb as he could reach
and emptied himself in me. I felt each spurt, warm and wet, shooting inside
me.
When he pulled out the copious amount of liquid dripped down my leg. I
didn't move. I knew there was one more. I wanted him the same way. I even
thought I would enjoy this final assault. Number three came around in front
of me. His still hard cock bobbed under my nose. I opened my mouth and
sucked the last of his come on my lips. He was the one that made me beg. I
was his.
He knelt down next to me. His face inches from mine. He kissed my sperm
coated lips. I didn't even feel the last cock enter me.
"Fuck guys. She feels like I'm fucking a sewer pipe." Those words stung my
ears.
My lover kissed me on the lips again. After all this, he still wanted to
kiss me. He whispered in my ear, something about pencil dick. I smiled,
almost laughed.
"Tell him to fuck me in the ass. " I whispered back my secret.
"You tell him." He wasn't going to make it easy.
"Don't let him hurt me." I was crying, tears appeared out of nowhere.
"I won't." He promised.
I turned my head.
"Go ahead. I know you want to. I want you to. That's rightŠ. I want you
to shove that cock right up my ass. " Defiantly I shook my caboose. I looked
at my lover and he smiled.
I reached between my legs and collected a handful of the thick gooey
sperm. I dribbled it seductively at the top of my ass. I reached back and
spread my cheeks.
"Go on, do it." I had more to say. I wanted to put on a show for him,
for them. But I was rescued. He kissed me again. His tongue snaked into my
mouth, muffling the assault on my last hole. It wasn't as bad as I imagined
it would be. And he kept kissing me. Kissing me as his friend pushed past my
spincter. Fucked my ass. Filled my bowels with his dirty seed. And all the
while my hand toyed with my own pleasure. I knew they knew I was there for
them.
We came together. The cock in my ass. The finger on my clit. The cock in
my mouth, replaced from the tongue I so imagined it had been. I collapsed on
the floor, spent.
The torturous hours that passed as they dressed. They joked. They high
fived and relived my agony. Three of them left. My lover stayed behind. He
picked me up off the floor. He tried to wipe away the dried tears, the dirt
and the grime. He helped me get dressed. The tattered clothes. He asked me
if I was going to be alright.
It was a stupid question. I said yes.
He handed me a card. It had a phone number on it. His phone number. I
couldn't believe it.
He left me there. I crumpled the card and threw it into the trash. I
huddled on the floor and cried until there were no more tears left. I
relived the experience in my head. Each detail. Each sensation. I needed,
wanted, had to remember every single moment. I composed myself. I finished
with a deep breath.
I retrieved the card. And I walked the rest of the way home.

data recovered

2003-09-30T16:09:00.000-07:00

Drugs and orgies.
Ah the good old days.

When the drugs kept me afloat, kept me running away
from the hurt, kept me on a plane higher than that of
traditional sexual mores, kept me horny and ready all
the time.

Rolling rolling rolling.
On the floor, tearing the sheets from the bed.
In the shower, in a sandwich.

Then 2 of us women, naked and kissing passionately on
the sheetless mattress, knowing we were being watched,
knowing that we were a wet dream in action.

We are fantasy girls I whispered.
I know she said Do you mind?
No I said, this is where we belong, where we were
meant to be.

I believed it then. And for that point in time in was
true.

And the men I tortured endlessly, binding them with
telephone cord and leather belts.

Sitting on his chest with only a thong on. Blowing
cigarette smoke from my lips to him.

You want to fuck me? I whispered softly in an
exhalation of smoke. You can't fuck me. You'll never
fuck me.

Meanwhile my girlfriend is sucking his cock.
And he is groaning at her sucking and his tongue is
reaching out to touch my mouth.

You can't fuck me I say.

I'll fuck you and fuck you. I'm gonna stuff your
little twat he says.

I slap his face, hard enough that he winces.
Girlfriend looks up, takes her mouth off his dick.
You made a big mistake, sir I say.
I told you you'd never fuck me.
Now you'll just have to watch us fuck each other.
Fuck fuck fuck.

Until mid morning came and we were out. Out of drugs,
out of our minds.

Pulling back the blinds we squinted at the daylight.
Lit up cigarettes and took our showers, separately
now.

I looked at my naked reflection in the mirror. Tried
not to look too hard for the girl I knew who was
hiding inside me, hurting from heartbreak.

Got dressed, smoke my last joint, put the sunglasses
on and we went to forage for lunch on the Haight.

Orange juice and strawberry crepes.