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The Whip

By: silk_LAWN



...my house stood in a grove of trees, reached by a long circular drive through the tall looming trees. From the outside it look quite unremarkable, but once through the front door the entire house could be seen all at once, including the indoor pool in the back. The open floor plan was something my Master insisted on ....when he arrived, as he would at any given time of the day or night, he did not wish to have to search for me. My house made me as available to him as my lack of clothing and shaved pussy. I was always accessible...always available...and always ready.

...when he entered this day I had heard his car on the gravel drive and walked over to the fireplace to light it....he walked in and tossed his jacket on the antique hall tree and then walked to me without a word and kissed me. I could feel my insides melt immediately and my pussy began to dampen.

He then turned and sat in his favourite chair....an overstuff leather armchair near the fire and waited. I walked towards the kitchen, a open room with the glass wall overlooking the pool at one end and a center island dividing it from the main living room.....and made his tea.

Delivering it once it was made, he took it in one hand and motioned to me with the other. I understood what he wished and sat in front of him, on the floor with my knee slightly bent and my legs spread completely. Leaning back on my arms I was in a semi-reclining position ...and I settled back easily, knowing I was to be before him like that while he drank his tea and relaxed a bit. And as he took his time sipping his tea, he watched me.

Still he had not said a word but few words were necessary at this time since everything he wished was routine and constant to all his arrivals. He had guided me through this process many times.... his arrival, his need to sooth himself before anything else.

The cool air was caressing my wetness as I recline, spread before him. I could feel the slight breeze created by the burning fire slipping over my open pussy lips. But I was not feeling cold myself...in fact his hot gaze on my exposed areas made me feel warm and anxious.

"Play with your pussy." were the first words he said to me that day....and I adjusted my position and reach down with one hand. Sliding one finger over my clit and labia I could tell better how very open I was to him. Two fingers further separated my pussy lips and I slowly slide one finger into myself. My pussy was warm, wet and slippery and I began to slowly plunge my finger deeper and deeper into myself as he watched. I am never comfortable doing this before anyone and he knew that but did not care. My comfort was secondary to his desires. I withdrew my finger and began circling my clit slowly with my pussy-wetted finger. He indicated for me to lie back fully and that freed my other hand to hold myself open for his view while I continued to play with my pussy. I laid my left hand down over my mount and using two fingers, spilt my pussy widely open for him, then with my right hand I continued to rub my clit. My clit was getting harder and standing proud of its hood. He smiled when he heard a slight moan come from my lips. I closed my eyes and began to concentrate on the delicious sensations that were running through my wet clit and pussy. Small contractions started and I knew he could see my pussy tightening and releasing as the tremors ran through me.

"Come." he said softly. And the tremors exploded as my fingers danced rapidly over my clit and slide deeply into my clenching pussy. I settled the weight of my bottom and hips on my legs and arched myself slightly upwards to dive deeper into my pussy with my fingers and I cried out in pleasure.

And then with warning he commanded me to stop....rather abruptly, leaving me wanting more, knowing I could come again with little stimulation. I obeyed and removed my hands from my wetness and when he motioned to me I stood and approached him. Thinking he wished me to sit on his lap I was a bit off balance when he pulled me forward to rest over his leg on my tummy, ass high and legs spread. 

Tiny tingles were still radiating through my stomach when the first smack landed on my unprotected bottom. I screeched out more from the suddenness of the spanking than from real pain. Another landed on my bottom and then he began a rhythm that echoed the beat of my heart. The impact was initially light enough to warm the skin of my bottom but the pace of the blows soon made each one feel like fire on my skin. I wiggled and squirmed to avoid each new slap but he held me firmly in place as he continued to blister my bottom. Pushing my outside leg further away he opened my pussy to his attack and delivered an odd slap now and them to my wet orgasm-swollen labia and clit. Nothing stopped him…not my cries…not my actions….not my pleas. My skin was on fire and I knew there were bright red marks from the top of my ass to my thighs.

When he was satisfied himself, he lifted me from the spanking position and settled me onto his lap to comfort me. I had been crying and he sooth away the wet tears from my face and kissed me softly. But as soon as I breathing became regular again, he lifted me to my feet and rose from the chair himself. Walking towards the bed in the alcove of the large room, he directed me to my knees before him and stripped off his cloths. Holding my head gently between his hands he directed my mouth to his cock. I opened my lips and accepted the hardness.

Automatically I sucked him into my mouth, wanting his shaft with my tongue and swallowing rapidly to take his full length into my throat. The pressure of his hands on the sides of my head directed my movements as he wished them. He rocked himself in and out of my tightened lips and thrust himself slowly into my throat. I could feel the ring on his cock against my tongue as he slowly withdrew himself and them slide his cock back into my mouth. Then sliding himself back out, he lodged just the head of his cock inside my lips and my tongue instinctively flicked over it. I licked around his cock still sucking on him as I did. And he responded by thrusting himself back into my mouth, expecting me to take him as deeply as he desired. I could feel his cock throbbing and knew he was not far from a climax. And I was worried. Could I manage to swallow all he gave me….?

The pressure on my head became firmer as he began fucking my mouth with long hurried strokes. No longer was I his submissive…at times like this I simply became a warm vessel for his needs and he used me as such. He meant to empty himself into me and his pleasure became paramount to all else. With the power of his force his balls swung in to touch my chin and raised neck.

Suddenly he arched into me and buried his cock as deeply as possible in my throat. There was a second of nothing and then he erupted in orgasm, spilling his hot seed into me and I struggled to swallow each time he pulsated. When he finished pumping his come into my mouth, he relaxed but held himself firmly in place to enjoy the sensations of his orgasm.

A minute later his hands left my head and he pulled himself free. Stepping back he bent down and kissed my forehead as if he suddenly remember I was there and wanted to praise me for my service to him. Pulling me to my feet he settled me back on the bed in a sitting position and walked to his toy wardrobe, returning with wrist cuffs and a single tail whip. And then as if he changed his mind he tossed the cuffs and the whip on the bed beside me; and watched with amusement my looks of fear and anxiety as I saw what he had. Then he offered me his hand and assisted me off the bed…. walking through the kitchen he opened the sliding doors to the pool area and simply said….”your skin needs to be wet first.” I gasped loudly understanding his meaning. With him leading we entered the water by way of the steps into the shallow end of the pool, where he released my hand and dove into the warm water. I waded in until my breasts were covered and I watched him slowly swim across the pool. The water felt sensuous on my heated skin and except for the small apprehension in the back of my mind I enjoyed the sensation. He swam for long minutes, knowing my mind was playing with me…. knowing the longer I dwelled on what was to come the more I would build it up in my thoughts.

And finally he swan to where I was and gathered me into his arm, rubbing our naked wet bodies together underneath the water and feeling the delicious swirling water over our joined flesh. He lifted me bodily, kissing me deeply, and then slid my body over his as he lowered me back into the pool. I was getting aroused again and he chuckled at the sounds of my moaning need. Once again he lifted me all the while holding my lips captured in a kiss and as he began to lower me I wrapped my legs around his hip. Without and difficulty his slid his cock, still hard despite his previous orgasm, into my ready pussy. And then he released me, breaking the kiss, removing his hands that had been holding me and supporting me; until I was attached to him only by the grip I had on his shoulders with my hands and his hips with my legs. This grip was not enough to keep me from sinking down onto his cock, now firmly embedded deep inside me. He walked to the side of the pool and leaned back against the wall to support himself and then he began to use the buoyancy of the water to bob me up and down on his cock. Nothing could save me from the deeply implanted heaviness pressing up into my cervix. And each bounce did little to relief the pressure. I was still firmly planted on him.

But the pain of the pressure soon gave way to pleasure as I began to feel the quivers of a building orgasm again. He had long ago taught me how to use the pain of sexual activity to enhance the pleasure of my climax for him. He had also taught me how to hold the orgasm until his acquiescence was given and this is where I was now. His hands slipped into the water and grabbed my hips, pulling me more firmly down on his cock…and over my cry he demanded I come for him.

The pleasure of my orgasm echoed off the steamed glass windows of the room and reverberated back to us. I arched into him and continue to scream out with joy, the pain intensifying the pleasure….the agony of my body deepening the satisfaction I was feeling. My pussy tightened on his shaft and gripped mightily in throbbing spasms as I came. As the glorious feelings began to subside, he lifted me off his cock and held me safely to him. And then we just stayed in our embrace until I came back to him.

A quick kiss and a mischievous look told me he was not done and the time had come. He pulled me gently from the pool and directed me towards the stack of fluffy white towels that I always kept on a bench poolside. Going to get one I dried him first thoroughly and then myself.

He then lead me back through the glass door into the tiled floor kitchen and back to the bed alcove. Without wasted movements, he cuffed my wrists and clipped the cuffs together. Then he lifted my hands upwards and again clipped the cuffs, this time to a chain suspended from the ceiling. He had purposely placed this chain at this exact location because there was twelve foot of free space all the way around it. No furniture was allowed in this area to restrict his movements here. This was his primary play area…his pony could be set up here…. his flogger could be swung with no fear of entanglement…. his enjoyment of standing bondage could be satisfied here. And as it was this time, his whip could freely swing in this large of a space.

He walked back to the bed and retrieved the single tail, looping it around in his fist so that it formed a large circle in his grip. He smiled at me as if to say, see what I have. And I saw very clearly because my eyes had widened in fright and awe of the terrible apparatus. It was ten feet long and coiled wickedly. The strength of the heavy leather braiding kept it rigidly a ring in his hand. Its slim but inflexible hand was covered in the same black sooth leather and it’s grip fit perfectly in his palm. He uncoiled it and swung it lazily in a semi-circle around his body, testing its weight, enjoying its feel, and toying with my mind. Without warning he tensed his arm and cracked the whip in the air. The sound ricocheted around the room loudly and I jumped. The shock of the repercussion resounded piercingly and my anxiety level intensified. He ran a hand over my back and hip, soothing me and then with the other hand cracked the whip once again. I quivered in fright and he laughed at my reaction.

“Why are you so fearful of this, my dear…. you have never felt the bite of this on your skin…yet.” And without waiting for a response he cracked the whip again…the sound as thick in the air as my apprehension. I could feel my still damp skin begin to sweat and I struggled awkwardly in the restraints, knowing I could not be free but fear driving me to try.

Then he stepped behind me and with a single motion flicked the whip across my skin much like he would the taws of a flogger. I gasped at the contact more from nerves than from any sting it inflected. And then a moment later I screamed as loudly as I ever had during a session, no, during my lifetime as he swung the coil towards my unprotected ass and allowed it to snap its last inch of speeding leather onto my skin. He stood and waited almost no time for the deep red streak to appear on my ass. Then he lifted his arm again and whisked it forward once again. I could hear it coming…. the leather whistled through the still air in the cavernous room and fractured into a loud crackle as it again made contact with my bottom. Fear and hurt clouded my mind…. redness blurred my focus. …and I descended into the hell of agonizing pain. I cannot say if I screamed again…I do not know but I do know reality became indistinct to me for I was in a world of torture and blinding suffering. The sting settled in to a burning sensation and I began to beg for mercy against the whip.

He allowed me to stand like that for a minute more and then came to me and wrapped his free arm around my waist, kissing the back of my neck and then sliding his fingertips over the two aching welts on my ass. I jumped and cried out at his touch. Then he stepped back and once more send the coiled devil sizzling through the air and torturously kissing my ass. Nothing in the world had ever felt like this… hot molten fire shot through me body and I heard a scream but did not realize it was my own.

I do not remember being released and placed on the bed, lying facedown on my belly. When I became aware of my surroundings again he was dabbing something cool and soothing on my bottom. And I could feel three distinctly separate throbbing welts.

“That last one broke the skin, my dear…and it was not an accident…I wanted this for you. You will be very pleased with your marks this time and with the length of time they last as well I think.”

He smiled and kissed me again...

The Whipping



Your wrists are bound to a chain suspended from the ceiling of a pitch dark room. After fucking you earlier, I had left you there while I took a shower and met a business acquaintance in the hotel bar. Your legs are growing weak, as you have been standing as upright as you can (your feet are just barely flat on the floor) to relieve the strain in your shoulders.

You hear the electronic lock whirr, and see my shadow in the frame of the door. The light from the hallway hurts your eyes, and you're gratified when I close it again.

Your gratification is short lived, as I take a gooseneck desk lamp and set it on the table next to you. I direct its single bulb at your face, and turn it on.

You start whimpering as the brightness of the light blinds you again, and the lamp quickly heats up and provides a sharp contrast to the cold room (yes, I left the air on high as I was downstairs).

I pull your panties out of your mouth. I had gagged you while I was out on the off chance that you might call for help. The juices from the crotch of your panties, which had been soaked from your anticipation of the afternoon, permeated the air with their fragrance as I removed them from your throat.

I slap your face, hard, on both sides. You can feel the sting of my large handprints in angry, red relief out on your cheeks. One of our rules, which you know well, is that you don't make a sound unless I invite you too.

I take one of your breasts in my hand, and squeeze it hard. You gasp in pain as my fingers move to pinch and twist your nipple. I grasp your neck by one hand, lifting you further off the ground, while I shove three of my fingers in your soaking wet pussy. I'm amazed, once again, by how tight you are, and imagine that it must have hurt you to have been handled so roughly. I smile, and finger fuck you harder.

Once your struggling grows weaker, suggesting that you're approaching the edge of unconsciousness, I release your neck (and your breast, and your pussy) and watch as you slump slack against the rope connecting your arms to the eye bolt in the ceiling.

I take my belt out of my pants, which are carelessly tossed over a chair, and fold it over to double it's thickness. I begin to beat you (calling this a spanking would be too subtle) on your back, buttocks, and legs. The blows are light at first. I want to arouse you and not waste my energy on you before you are fully conscious and aware. I see you lift your head, and your legs straighten to support your weight, and the blows come a little harder. I pause between each lash of the belt to let you fully experience the sting of each stroke. I begin to put my weight in it (all 260 lbs) and let the torque build up in my long arms as I swing the belt through a full arc before it finds its target.

You count each stroke out loud, at first in a soft voice, then in a moan, and finally in a scream as the pain increases. This only encourages me to swing the belt harder and faster. You scream out "twenty seven!!"

I pause in my labors, and say "I'm quite impressed with you little girl. I have always broken you well before this. Perhaps I need to use the buckle end instead."

Even from behind, I can see you stiffen, and I can almost hear the tears rolling down your face. You say nothing, though. You don't beg. You don't cry (audibly, that is). You just prepare for the beating to continue.

Several minutes go by, and your sweat, which had begun as a soft glistening on your skin from the heat of the light and the first blows, is now forming rivulets down your body, and pooling on the floor beneath. Perhaps mixed with tears. Your panic as the anticipation of the buckle biting into your skin becomes almost overwhelming. When the first blow lands, almost gently, the metal barely grazing your skin, you scream out our safety word.

I toss the belt aside and release you from the chain you have been hanging from for hours. Before your body can crumple to the floor I catch you, and pull you close to me. As I embrace you, the welts on your back scream in pain, but to you it is a scream of triumph. You endured all you could endure, and you know I am proud of your determination not to be broken (and gratified that you eventually broke none-the-less). I press your body against mine, and you feel how aroused I have become from the pain I have inflicted.

"Sir, I want to suck your cock. It feels so hard and ready for my mouth," you whisper.

"No, Princess, I am going to hold you for a while and let you recover. You are a good, brave girl."

I carry you toward the couch, and sit down with you in my lap. As I play with your breasts (gently this time), your head relaxes on my shoulder. In no time, you fall asleep... safe in the knowledge that I will awaken you when I am ready for you to please me further.



The Whipping Game



He had read my journals.

I want nothing more than for his strong hands to grab my tender flesh, feel the wet smoothness of his serpent nibbling on my breasts, after going so long without his touch I found myself craving his touch. Tell me I want it, force me to take it, make me hurt. Cleanse me off this filthy mind

Every page, every paragraph, every revealing sentence describing in detail all of the things I wanted him to do to me.

I know I am no longer his, as he threw me away, I became undesirable. But my body craves for his touch, as every inch of my chocolate skin is his sweet possession. I miss the feeling of being impaled on his cock. He told me once that I would have all the dick I could stand, that he would buy toys and play with my body. Play with me. God I miss him. I again want to be on my knees as your slut, your bitch, your whore. Being whatever you say I am.

And I was embarrassed. a few months ago my loving "Daddy" threw me away, he stopped talking to me and removed himself from my life permanently. The loneliness was hard enough on its own, but what was worse was the feelings that followed. In the middle of the night I would long for his touch, and as the guilt would creep in I would remember how it felt to have my ass filled to the brim with the heat of his throbbing cock, and tears would roll down my face as I craved to feel my scandalous pleasure.

No matter how long I tried to stay away, no matter how much I tried to run away, the inevitable truth was that I was a slave to his cock, held captive by memories of ecstasy.

So when I found that he had read my journals, came looking for me again, I fell weak, and came crawling back to him.

And that is how I wound up standing here, hands tied together, hanging off the ceiling.

There were goosebumps up and down my body, as I waited for him to make his move. He sat in the corner, watching me stand there, presented in front of him like a feast.

I came back, to clean my mind of those thoughts of him, hoping that if he inflicted enpugh pain, that I could become pure.

After ten minutes of silence, he stood on his feet and walked over, using his fingertips to dance across my skin. "Good."

He ran his fingers through my hair, then closed his fist, pulling my hair back in his grasp. He moved closer, so that I could feel his hardness in between my ass. "You want this." He hissed, breathing hot air onto my neck, "You want me."

"Yes..." I said weakly.

"I knew you'd be back...." he said molesting my body, "I knew you were mine."

"Yes..."

He yanked my hair once more, "Yes what?"

"Yes Daddy..."

His hand fell from my hair and he moved away, picking up a small whip from his chair. He ran his hands over rough leather, thinking about how this situation would play out. He did not want to cause me any physical pain, he only considered it now because it was my wish. Damage his toy? Ripen my flesh? Leave me bruised and battered? He had his doubts about this. As much as he wanted to please his slut and exert his dominance, this was something he had never explored. The experience would be as new for him as it would be for me, and this I knew to be true.

"Through pain comes healing," he told me.

And with that final statement he pulled back his hand, and with all his might swung his arm forward, cracking his whip on his slave. I felt the harsh sting on my skin, and to my surprise I didn't know what to make of it. The whip stung, yes, but when the pain subsided all I could feel was the sensation of pleasure from my throbbing loins.

He hit me again, and I bit my lip, trying to hold back my screams, trying to be strong and not give into the sensations. As the whip met my tender ass, my thoughts began to vanish and all I could do was focus on the sounds of the whip meeting my flesh, echoing throughout the room.

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

Five hits. Six hits. Seven hits. Eight.

This pain had unearthed a new pleasure to me, as my rosebud began to bloom, and my pussy began to drip.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" He taunted.

I bit down on my lip even harder, trying to fight the urge to respond. Dirty. I am so dirty. Enjoying this pain. Thinking of his cock. Ohh, it feels good. It hurts so bad, yet feels so good.

He brought the whip down harder, "Answer me!"

SMACK.

"Do you like it?"

SMACK.

"Is this what you wanted?"

SMACK.

I cried out from a mixture of pain and pleasure, no longer able to conceal my feelings. "Yes...yes Daddy."

"Say it."

"I want this Daddy...I want you to hurt me."

"Why."

"Because..." his whipping was becoming rougher, each sting more painful than the last, and my cries soon became screams. "Because I'm dirty. Because I'm a whore."

He stopped for a moment, "Is that so?"

Tears began to flow down my cheeks, "Yes...I'm a whore. You threw me away,yet here I am in front of you."

"Do you know why you're here."

I let out a small whimper, so he responded for me. "Because you are mine. You are my submissive. Mine to own."

"I missed you Daddy...I missed you." I closed my eyes, crying dirty tears, ashamed of my need for him. I wanted to be cleansed of my filth, and instead I found myself wanting more of him, surrendering myself to him, kneeling before him, presenting myself for approval.

I was truly his whore.

He placed the whip on the ground and approached. With a careful sincerity, he ran his hands over my sore body. I let out a hiss of pain. "Did this help you?"

"No," I whispered.

"You still want me..."

"Yes."

He gently kissed from my shoulder blades down to my ass, then he came around the front, and kissed up from my rosebud, to my breasts. He took my brown nipples into his mouth and chewed gently, easing some of my pain. He continued this for a few moments before looking at me tear stained face.

"Look at me."

I looked into his kind eyes, and he stared back into mine, "Don't be ashamed of what you are. You are mine."

And he was right.

He took my face into his hands, and very quickly confirmed his words with a loving kiss. He waited to watch me again fall in love before he pulled away, and turned his back to me.

"This changes nothing between us pet." 



The Whipping Girl's Revenge



***

"Prelude"

***

In a kingdom on the cusp on the 20th century, the old guard still reigns. While the rest of Europe industrializes, this kingdom remains stagnant, unperturbed by the movement of time. Peasants still toil in the field completely subservient to the bloated and decadent nobility. No constitution or written law dictates the actions of the ruling class. They rule absolute. 

It is in this context that our story takes place. A spoiled Baroness named Alexis Von Tromp, sits at her desk writing in a supremely narcissistic diary. The world is seemingly at her fingertips, yet even as she diligently writes her selfish prose a plot thickens, miles away, a plot that will be her unraveling. It will lead her down a path she never imagined for herself, a path unthinkable to her current state. She will become a prisoner to her own primal lust and an unrivaled need for adulation and power.

Dear Diary,

I send off tomorrow to meet my love. My family has paid a considerable dowry to the King and Queen in order to arrange my marriage to the High Prince Philip. This is the only option for me, as I find every other man in the kingdom disgusting and wretched. I have had my sights on Prince Philip for all my life. A marriage to him will complete my destiny to become queen. I can envision it now, I can taste victory, my quest for absolute power will finally have been achieved. This this is what I crave. this is what I need. It is no wonder the prince chose me, for some say I am the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, and I would agree.

Archibald will accompany me. Archibald is a pathetic lout, but he is impossibly loyal to me. It benefits me greatly however that that he lusts after me so. I must admit I get some pleasure in making him squirm. When I change my clothing in front of him, I see him sweat and stew with a certain pathetic desire. He knows I am too good for him, but he desperately wants what he cannot have. It is my belief that Archibald would murder on my command. The thought of ordering him to murder and having them do it fills me with a somewhat disturbing amount of pleasure. 

Occasionally as a reward for Archibald I allow Archibald to use his tongue to pleasure me, this is our secret, it means nothing to me, I do not consider it a sexual act with another person, for Archibald is a mere tool for me. It feels it is beneath me to use my own hand to fondle myself to climax, it has always brought me joy to use the mouths of servants, call it a guilty pleasure. To fully confess, I myself have an unnatural need for sexual gratification. Yet for my whole life the only sexual partner that I feel is worthy of me is the High Prince Philip. Now I am giddy with excitement for my lifelong dreams are coming true. I can finally be satisfied the way I deserve to be satisfied.

On the bumpy road through the countryside towards the prince's palace, Alexis peers out at the window at the peasants farming near a rural village.

"Look at them toil. Isn't it obvious that this world is not for them, but for us? By us, I mean royals, not you Archibald!"

"Yes, my majesty." Archibald eagerly replied.

"Only a minority of people can truly have everything, isn't it glorious that the masses have to toil, simply so the few of us can live in absolute pleasure? Yet some peasants want for more. Don't they realize that if they were compensated for their toil and the wealth they produce was spread, no one could live like me, or the other royals? Is it right and good, that at least some of us can have all we desire?" Alexis said haughtily.

"Yes, yes, this is a brilliant theory, it is true," Archibald replied, staring at Alexis wide-eyed.

Alexis had met the prince various times, but this visit was for the future husband and wife to get to know each other, the other times they had met, it had been in formal settings. Now after the initial feast, they were to be able to spend time alone together. It was imperative that Alexis impress the prince to the fullest, as the prince could call off the engagement.

After a day and a half of travel, Alexis reached the extravagant palace of the prince. Despite the lateness of their arrival, the prince greeted Alexis at the front gates flanked by guards holding kerosene lights.

"My, Lady." The prince kissed Alexis' hand as she exited her carriage. He fancied himself a true gentleman.

"Your highness." Alexis responded.

"I am afraid we cannot congregate for long. I very much look forward to your company, but I must get sleep for I have very important matters to settle in the morning tomorrow. I hope you understand. I have, news and a very important proposal for you."

Alexis nodded and smiled politely, yet she was disappointed, she wanted the prince to fawn over her and do her bidding, for that was how she was used to being treated. She expected the same from the prince.

***

"Archibald Pleasures Alexis"

***

Dear Diary, 

Whenever I see the prince I have an overwhelming desire to drop to my knees and envelope his member into my mouth. I want to feel his cock on my lips and tongue. I have fantasized about kissing the tip of his erect cock, of licking its underbelly. I yearn to hear pleasurable moans seep out of his mouth. I wish to feel his cock slide down my tongue and into my throat. I wish to drive him insane with lust. As our wedding draws near my excitement grows, even now just writing about these thoughts, I am becoming lubricated, readying myself for him.

I want him to take me onto our lover's bed and rip my dress and undergarments off my body. I will swoon as I see the uncontrolled look in his eyes, I long for him to need me. It will be my turn to moan with pleasure as he cups and suckles at my bare breasts. Suddenly I will feel his tongue lapping at my nethers, my hips bucking and thrusting, my wetness drenching his face.

Finally, he cannot control himself, he turns me over onto my hands and knees, my arse jutting upwards like some beast in heat. I am overwhelmed by the pleasure of his hard cock entering me. His thrusts are slow and deep, he grips my hair and pulls my head back, I am immobilized in pleasure. I claw at the sheets as his hard stomach slaps against my arse. I am beckoning him now pushing into his thrusts which are much faster and harder than they were before. His moans getting louder, releasing my hair as he buckles over in pleasure. I cannot take it, I scream into the bed covers to muffle my pleasure. I feel his spunk shoot into me and he cries out a guttural noise of pleasure. We collapse...spent.

Baroness Alexis Von Tromp put down her diary and let out a sigh. She had arrived at Prince Philip's palace late in the night with her trusty servant Archibald. She was betrothed to marry the prince in a few short weeks. It had been her life's aspiration to marry into power. Prince Philip was someone all the other noblewomen fawned over, he was young, handsome and slated to become the king, he was the top prize in the whole kingdom. In a world where monarchies were losing power, either being outright toppled or having their power lessened by parliaments, Philip's family ruled their small kingdom absolutely. Alexis felt as though she was destined to live a life where her every need was satisfied. Alexis was willing to do whatever it took to reach her goals, she had a sociopathic streak in her and a certain sadism she could barely hide. She took great pleasure in ordering servants around and humiliating them when she could. Alexis also liked the feeling when her underlings looked upon her in fear.

"ARCHIBALD!" Alexis harshly cried out.

"Yes, Baroness." The loyal Archibald was standing in front of the Baroness almost immediately.

"Pour me a glass of wine!" Archibald scrambled away nervously to do as he was told.

Archibald was hopelessly dedicated to Baroness Alexis, he was in such awe of her beauty and power he would do anything to please her. Alexis loved this and made sure Archibald fulfilled her every need. Archibald was around the same age as Alexis, his mid-twenties, yet he had a receding hairline, he was skinny, short and weak.

"Your majesty!" Archibald bowed down and handed Alexis her wine. Once Archibald found out that Alexis was to be betrothed to Prince Philip he took to calling her "majesty." Alexis didn't complain, soon enough everyone would be referring to her with this title.

"Archibald, you may pleasure me," Alexis said looking away, sipping on her glass of wine.

Archibald could barely contain his glee, every now and then Alexis would order him to "pleasure her" which he knew meant to perform cunnilingus. Archibald seemed to very much enjoy this act. Alexis did not allow him to masturbate while he tongued her lower regions, often times Archibald could not control his urges and attempted to touch himself, which would lead to admonishment and disgust from Alexis. 

Alexis smiled as she saw Archibald perspiring in anticipation. Archibald was shaking as he crouched down and put his hands under the Baroness' enormous white dress, the small man let himself become enveloped in the dress. Archibald let out of a slight moan as he gripped Alexis' already damp panties. Slowly pulling the panties off Alexis' legs. Archibald put the panties up to his nose and inhaled through his nose, taking in the smell.

"Stop it, discard them." Alexis angrily ordered.

Shaking, Archibald put them down, he smelt her panties almost as a reflex, a look of shame crossed his face. "I am sorry your majesty, please forgive me."

"Get to work!" Alexis responded gesturing for Archibald to again enveloped himself in the dress.

Archibald crawled into Alexis' dress his tongue gently licking Alexis' pussy. Alexis took a sip of wine and ran her free hand through her hair. Alexis let her pleasure slowly come to her. Dreaming of Prince Philip in her head she buckled her hips against Archibald's face.

"Oh, sweet prince." He words were soft, but Archibald could hear them as he licked away at Alexis' clit, her juices already were spread about his face.

Alexis wondered what it was like for Archibald to be so terribly inferior to the prince. The miracle of life had not in truth been a miracle for Archibald, for he was a small man and not attractive, even if Prince Philip had no power and wasn't a prince, Archibald could never compete with him.

Alexis looked down at her waist and pressed down on Archibald's head forcing his face to be smothered by her naked crotch. Archibald's teeth pressed painfully into his lips, he could barely breath. He was overwhelmed with Alexis' juices, he was now drinking the liquid. His lustful urges took over, he reached down and begun to unbuckle his belt, he wanted nothing more than to stroke his cock.

Alexis heard the jingle of Archibald's buckle. "Stop that at once!" She commanded. Archibald reluctantly pulled his hand away and put them behind his back, as to remind himself not to stroke his cock. He continued to lick away diligently. Alexis' sipped at her wine again as she thrusted her hips roughly into Archibald's face.

"Oh, sweet prince, how I wish for you to take me." Alexis was dangerously loud. Her legs were now wrapped around Archibald, pushing his back into her gyrating hips. Alexis was suddenly overcome with pleasure, she kicked her heel harshly into Archibald's back as she bucked helplessly in the throes of pleasure. This had to have hurt Archibald, but Alexis did not care. Her eyes bulged and rolled back, and she broke her wine glass from gripping it too harshly, the stem of the glass remained in her hand, the rest crashed onto the floor. Alexis went limp. Crawling out from her dress was Archibald, whose face was glistening with Alexis' juices. Archibald licked his lips then immediately started cleaning up the broken glass, his face still wet, his small cock still erect.

***

"Archibald's Lust"

***

"ARCHIBALD!" Alexis harshly cried out, it was the morning and she had a long day. This would be the longest stay with Prince Philip before she was to marry him if all went well Alexis would not have to return home she would Marry the prince right then and there. For travel was hard in those times. Although she was betrothed, it was still a possibility the prince could change his mind, as there were many women in the kingdom who could take Alexis' place. This visit was to seal Alexis' fate as a future queen, which was what she had always dreamed of and expected.

"Bathe and dress me!" Alexis ordered to Archibald.

"Yes, your majesty." Archibald slightly bowed before he shuffled off to run a bath in the adjacent room.

Alexis rolled out of bed and took off her night slip, revealing her nude form. She walked into the doorway and watched as Archibald was testing the water.

"Oh...oh...oh my majesty." Archibald nearly seemed to melt with lust as he looked upon Alexis' naked body.

Alexis had long blonde hair, which as this moment was disheveled from the night's sleep. Her eyes were ice blue, her stare was intimidating. Her nose was perfectly shaped but slightly upturned which added to a haughty air that Alexis took with her wherever she went. Her lips were full, Archibald longed to kiss them, but he knew that Alexis would never lower herself to put her lips on his. Alexis had large round breasts, which she always made sure to enhance by using a corset that pushed them up. Alexis' hips were wide, her ass was large, as were her thighs. Archibald desired so much to bury his head into Alexis' large ass and lick and worship her anus. Alexis had well-groomed hair around her crotch. Archibald was nearly insane with lust as he nervously stood up, unable to conceal his erection, while making way for Alexis to bathe.

"The water is nice," Alexis said as she sat in the ornate porcelain tub.

"May I sponge you?" Archibald said as he held a sponge in his hand.

"You may."

Archibald shaking, wetted the sponge and began to gently wipe it over Alexis' shoulders. Alexis lifted one arm exposing her underarm, Archibald promptly and thoroughly wiped her arm clean. After cleaning the other arm, in the same way, Archibald lets out a sigh of anticipation as he paused before he began to sponge Alexis' breasts. Alexis stared into Archibald's eyes, Archibald looked away intimidated by Alexis' stare. Instead his eye's met Alexis' large breasts, he panted heavily, aroused to the extreme.

"I would prefer if you not oogle my breasts! Look away." Archibald turned his head and looked at the bathroom floor, as he continued cleaning the Baroness.

The next part of the cleaning was the most difficult for Archibald. He felt he was ready to ejaculate, even with no one touching him. It had been a long time since Archibald had felt the release of an orgasm. Archibald was sweating.

"My legs." Alexis' calmly spoke as she raised one of her legs out of the water, flexing her thigh muscle, pointing her toes into the air.

Starting with her foot Archibald began sponging Alexis' leg. Archibald looked down into the water trying to get a glimpse of Alexis' vagina. 

"Look away this instant!" Alexis ordered Archibald, Archibald promptly complied.

Archibald sponged Alexis' other leg, all while breathing heavily and looking away. Alexis' then dunked her head under water and then stood up and stepped out of the shower.

"Dry me! And do it without looking, I am tired of your pathetic noises and groveling." Alexis cruelly spoke and she stood naked and dripping wet.

Archibald wanted badly to touch himself as he looked Away from Alexis and dried Alexis by wiping a towel over her breasts and buttocks.

"Oh God." Archibald sighed as he ran the towel over Alexis' large backside.

"Hurry up, stop being disgusting," Alexis ordered to Archibald with disdain in her voice. Again Archibald did what he was told.

Once Alexis was dry Archibald brushed her hair in front of a mirror, then helped her put on her corset and her undergarments. He helped her apply her makeup. Finally, Alexis put on a gorgeous and huge light blue dress. Alexis looked like a royal, she truly looked the part of a queen. 

"Go make yourself useful to the other servants, you have a dinner to prepare, do not disappoint me!" Alexis ordered Archibald.

"Yes, your majesty/" Archibald shuffled off, to introduce himself to the palace servants.

It was now Baroness Alexis' time to wait for Prince Philip, they were to spend the whole day together, to speak of the future plans for the kingdom, to plan their extravagant wedding.

***

"Who is Zaria?"

***

Alexis looked at the marvelous clock in her quarters. She wondered if it were broken the Prince was supposed to visit her at 2:00, it was now 2:15. Alexis nervously waited. Her heart skipped a beat when she finally heard a knock on her door. She jumped up and raced to the door, she opened it and to her dismay an older mutton-chopped servant was at the door.

"Baroness, I know you've been waiting for the prince."

"Where is he! I demand to know!"

"He is with Baroness Zaria, an important matter came up, it is of political in nature I assure you." The servant said as he saw Alexis' eyes grow hot with anger.

"What is this POLITICAL matter!" Alexis said sarcastically.

"The Baron Maximilian's estate, there is a quarrel over ownership." 

Alexis slammed the door in the old servant's face. She folded her arms over her chest and in a huff sat at the side of her bed. She began to write in her diary.

Dear Diary,

So, I am to be taken away from my prince due to what is most likely some wretched old hag's complaint about her equally wretched old husband's estate. There is no way some old Baron who died suddenly over two months ago should be taking time away from me spending time with my beloved prince. Our time together has been limited to two visits. Just a month ago he asked for my hand in marriage, I could tell that he longed for me. Now he won't see me because of some minor estate issue. I suspect some foul play, whoever is behind this, I will make sure they pay!

Alexis who always kept up on the goings on of the other nobles knew that two months ago Baron Maximilian suddenly passed away, it was not necessarily unexpected as he was very old. Now as there often was, his family was fighting over who should control his estate. Alexis slammed her diary shut. She buried her head into her soft white pillow and waited for dinner. The prince would finally then finally arrive and escort her to dinner.

The door knocked again, and again Alexis ran to the door, this time Prince Philip was at the door. Alexis smiled and bowed, lifting up her dress slightly. The prince was tall with dark brown hair and piercing green eyes, he was muscular, well groomed and clean shaven.

"I am sorry for my tardiness, there was a matter of extreme importance that came to my attention." The prince reached out his hand.

Alexis swooned as she touched the prince's hand, "Yes I heard, the Maximilian estate." Alexis said as the couple walked briskly hand in hand down the spiral staircase to the dining hall.

"My father put me in charge of estate disagreements, it is his least favorite aspect of being a King, I myself cannot wait to give that responsibility to some other unlucky person." The prince said smiling as the couple walked into the dining room and sat down.

Small talk and niceties were exchanged as the guests currently seated waited for the rest of the guests to arrive. There was a hum and chatter to the crowd, Alexis was inauthentically laughing at some bad attempts at humor from various older nobles. Alexis was a master at banal conversation. Suddenly, Alexis was taken off guard, the crowd fell silent. A beautiful woman was entering the fray.

"Who is she?" Alexis muttered to prince Philip, barely able to contain her jealousy. Alexis had not elicited this response when she entered the dining hall.




The Whipping Girl's Revenge



"She is the widow of Baron Maximilian. Her name is Zaria."

Alexis gasped. "She married that old man?"

"Yes and she inherited his great fortune, she is now a very powerful young woman." The prince said smiling, clearly in awe of Zaria's beauty just like every other guest.

To Alexis' horror, Zaria sat down on the other side of the Prince. She was slim and tall with brown hair pulled up into an elegant bun, her dress was sleek and fit nicely around her frame. Her dress looked more modern and in fashion than Alexis' massive blue dress.

"Hello, I am Zaria you must be Alexis?" Zaria put her white gloved hand forth for Alexis to shake, which Alexis did.

"Yes, I am betrothed to the Prince, we are to marry in three weeks." Alexis responded staking her claim.

"I know you are such a beautiful woman, I am sure the prince is lucky to have you." Zaria responded.

Alexis smiled in a courteous manner. As she glanced at Zaria she thought the woman looked familiar. She kept glancing at her again and again racking her brain, trying to remember when or where she had seen her before. Finally, she just asked.

"I am sorry, you look familiar, have I seen you before?"

"You look familiar as well, but I do not recall when or where I saw you," Zaria replied smiling.

As the dinner continued the conversation turned to science, towards the controversial theory of Evolution. Zaria proved to be well read on the subject and was able to defend the principle with the utmost articulation. Whereas Alexis who had never taken her studies seriously could not recount anything and remained silent. Zaria seemed to do everything she could to turn the conversation away from Alexis' strengths which were royal gossip and banal pleasantries to more academic subjects. The prince seemed to be gripped by Zaria's words, the two had an undeniable chemistry. Alexis seethed with rage.

The conversation turned to politics and Alexis attempted to interject only to be firmly rebutted by the prince himself. Alexis looked over at Zaria chuckling to herself. Alexis' face was red, she was humiliated. Through the whole dinner, the prince gave Zaria much more attention than Alexis.

As the dinner came to a close the prince took Alexis' hand and said goodbye to Zaria. He kissed her white-gloved hand, pausing for a while to look into her eyes, clearly enamored by her."That Zaria, she certainly is well read." The prince remarked to Alexis.

"Indeed she is," Alexis said seething with jealousy and anger.

"Have you made sure my servant is waiting for me in my quarters," Alexis said with a sociopathic undertone.

"Oh yes, of course, he will be ready for you," Prince Philip said smiling uneasily at Alexis..

The prince kissed Alexis' hand and bowed to her leaving her near her quarters. Alexis schemed her temper flaring.

***

"A Murder Plot!"

***

"ARCHIBALD!" Alexis yelled out.

"Yes, your majesty!" Archibald shuffled up to Alexis, he was still sweating from helping the palace servants clean up the dinner plates.

"This cannot stand, something is afoot, I have a usurper."

"A usurper!" Archibald was shocked.

"Zaria, the widow of Baron Maximilian, she is using her charms to steal the prince away from me!"

"What can we do!" The loyal Archibald replied genuinely disturbed by the news.

"This has happened before, princes have been stolen away after they have been betrothed, their former lovers falling into obscurity, the usurper gaining fame, and fortune! I cannot let it happen to me. It would be unconscionable, I must act!"

"But what can we do? I will do anything."

Alexis calmly walked over to her chest of drawers and pulled out a knife with an ivory handle.

"Dear Archibald, there is but one thing for you to do, you must in the dark of the night sneak into Zaria's quarters and put this knife through her heart." Alexis' eyes were especially icy as she made this statement and gave Archibald the knife.

"I...I...I...I...cannot kill." Archibald meekly responded while holding the knife.

"YOU MUST! THIS WOMAN IS A USURPER! SHE DESERVES DEATH!" Alexis looked at Archibald angrily.

"I...I..." Archibald had no words.

"For a kiss?" Alexis asked, causing the gears in Archibald's mind to turn.

"A kiss?" Archibald replied.

"A nice long kiss, on the lips. You can pretend we are lovers." Alexis came close to Archibald, her chest touching his, Archibald could feel her breath on his face, he was beyond smitten.

Archibald took a deep breath. "I can get a list of whom is staying in which quarters from the servant's quarters. You see we as servants must know this so we can better serve the royalty. I believe there is a skeleton key in the servant's quarters as well, I will find it. I will sneak in and stab her in the heart then I will return and you will kiss me." Archibald stoically responded almost in a trance. 

"Yes, my dear Archibald, yes!" Alexis said smiling as Archibald creeped out of the room. Alexis smiled, she was glad she brought Archibald along with her.

***

"Foiled!"

***

Zaria was awoken by her lock gently turning. She saw her door was creaking, a shadowy figure emerged into the room. Zaria nudged a body who was sleeping soundly next to her.

"My love, a fiend approaches!" Zaria spoke.

Within ten seconds, Archibald felt the cold steel of a sword press up against his neck and he heard Prince Philip's voice.

"FOUL WRETCH DROP THY BLADE!" 

Archibald dropped the knife immediately. "FORGIVE ME!" he cried out, weeping knowing that he would face the gallows.

A Kerosene lamp was ignited by Zaria and Archibald was revealed.

"Alexis' servant!" Prince Philip who was clad in long underwear, let out a cry of disgust.

"She put you up to this!" The Prince pressed the sword up to Archibald's neck, slightly cutting the skin.

"No, no of course not, I did this on my own. I am a terrible wretch, perverted and evil, I...I..."

"Silence! You ARE pathetic," the Prince spoke.

"Call the guards, take me to the gallows, I confess, I confess." Archibald murmured.

"I don't believe him," Zaria spoke, she was strangely calm considering the circumstances.

The prince turned around, still holding the sword up to Archibald's neck. "He has no motive, only Alexis has a motive, he will do whatever she says." Zaria calmly spoke looking directly into Archibald's terrified eyes.

"I will have the guards fetch her at once." The prince spoke to Zaria.

"I will get the guards, you hold this fiend at bay." Zaria got dressed the prince agreed to her leave the quarters and get the guards.

The prince pulled the sword away slightly and Archibald fell to his knees weeping. "I am sorry, my prince I did not know you were present in this room, please forgive me!"

Through the dim kerosene light, the price looked at the whimpering Archibald with hate in his eyes. "SILENCE WORM!" The prince spoke harshly, Archibald did as he was told.

Meanwhile Alexis who was still awake waiting for Archibald to return heard a stirring outside of her door. She stood up as she heard the door open, without thinking she blurted out. "Archibald did you do the deed?" She nearly fainted when she saw Zaria flanked by two guards standing in her door well.

"Seize her at once, by order of the prince!" Zaria spoke.

In shock Alexis nearly froze and felt immediately faint, when she felt the rough calloused hands of the guards grab her under her shoulders and hoist her up. She was outside of the room when she muttered her first protests.

"May I get dressed!? I cannot be seen publicly wearing nothing but my night slip!"

The guards continued to carry Alexis towards Zaria's chamber.

"Unhand me, unhand me you fools, I am betrothed to the prince!" Alexis kicked her bare feet, but it was to no avail, the guards easily transported her to Zaria's room. There Alexis would see that the prince still held Archibald captive.

Alexis was met with the prince holding a sword up to Archibald's neck with a single kerosene light burning brightly. One of the guards spoke.

"Prince Philip, is this your will, to have this woman transported to this room?"

"Yes, of course, it is, there has been a conspiracy against me of the highest order." The prince replied back.

"Shall we take these fiends to prison?" The other guard questioned.

"No, I will deal with them myself, I dismiss you both and don't mention this to anyone." The prince then dismissed the guards with a flip of his wrist.

The guards left, Philip looked at Alexis, "Alexis take a seat on the bed." There was palpable anger in his voice.

Alexis was confounded, she did not know why the prince was present...in Zaria's quarters.

"What are you doing here?" She asked nervously.

"Take a seat, it will all become clear!" There rage in the prince's voice, a rage that he was no longer hiding. Alexis did what she was told.

"Zaria, light more Kerosene lights, I want to see both of these scoundrel's faces."

"I am betrothed to you, I am no scoundrel, and what are you doing with HER!" Alexis added indignantly as more Kerosene lights light up the room nearly as well as the light of day.

The prince lowered his sword. "Can I trust that neither of you will attempt to kill me or my lover!" The prince spoke.

Alexis was in a rage, "LOVER! I AM BETROTHED TO YOU! YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME!"

"SILENCE! I am a prince, can I not have a lover? You know as well as I do, marriages are little more than politics. I have perfect grounds to throw you into prison for the rest of your pathetic life! Do you want this?"

Alexis was crying, "Archibald you incompetent fool, this is your fault, I HATE YOU!"

"I am sorry, your majesty, I am sorry I have failed you!" Archibald replied weeping.

"You both will be punished, but if you cooperate, you both will come out of this alive. This merely complicates something that was already in motion for which I was going to reveal to you in a few days time. Now your wicked plot forces me to abruptly inform you of Zaria and my plan. First the truth of Zaria's identity shall now be explained to you." The prince motioned for Zaria to speak.

***

"Zaria Explains"

***

"You do know me, Alexis, you know me well." Zaria stepped in front of Alexis. "Now listen to me carefully, for all will become clear as to who I am and what my motivations are and how you know me." Alexis looked deep into Zaria's piercing eyes, racking her brain, trying to remember who she was. Zaria began to speak.

"I was abandoned by my peasant family, whom could not care for me. You see many peasants had lost their farms in the time period of my youth and moved into the imperial city to look work. Work was long and hard, pollution soiled and air and water. My father could not make high enough wages support the family, the polluted air made my mother very ill. So I was taken to an orphanage, I barely remember my parents. I was raised well in the orphanage, I was told I was smart and likable. That is why, at the age of twelve I was adopted by the nobility, I was beyond excited and the lovely caretakers at the orphanage told me it was a great opportunity. Unfortunately, I was adopted as a servant with a particularly gruesome job. The noble family, the Von Tromp's had an unruly daughter, she did not pay attention in her studies and her teacher was not permitted to use corporal punishment. I was brought in as a whipping girl!" You know me as Guild, which is my true name. I now go by Zaria which is, in fact, my middle name." 

Fear fell over Alexis' eyes, she suddenly remembered Zaria was her servant, she knew her as Gilda. Alexis remembered how poorly she treated Guelda. "I remember you!" Alexis cried out.

"Hush, I am not done. A spoiled Baroness terrorized me, her name was Alexis Von Tromp, which would be you!! You took every opportunity to abuse me, instead of being a deterrent for your bad behavior, you seemed to be delighted in watching me suffer! For six years, I was whipped and spanked for YOUR sins. My back is scared because of you! Yet I persevered and I listened to the lectures given by your highly paid teachers and I myself became very well educated. When I was 19 and you finished your studies, I was released. Without a cent to my name I was released, without gratitude and with only the clothing on my back I was released into the harsh world. I was without a home until the kindly Baron Maximilian hired me as a servant. Maximilian was widowed and lonely, he developed a liking to me and eventually he decided he wanted to marry me. After only being married to him for two short years, he died and his family wanted to kick me off of their estate, due to my lack of noble lineage. This is when I came to talk to Prince Philip. We began talking and took a liking to each other, I learned he was betrothed to you and I warned him of your wicked ways. The prince liked me so much we became lovers.Yet sadly, it is a trepidacious thing for us to be married, as I am not of true noble lineage. I told Philip of you, and your complete disinterest in politics, science, art or anything of substance. He told me that he indeed believed you were boring. But we both agreed you looked the part of a queen and acted like one too." 

Alexis was seething with anger, but she did not dare interject.

"So Philip and I decided that for us to be together, we needed a figurehead, someone who could look pretty, who could come to all of the parties and gatherings and be a public face for the kingdom. I know this is your dream, I know you well. You want nothing more than to look good. And so we together made a plan to allow you to marry the prince, whereas the prince's true love was me. You being the public wife, myself being the private wife."

Alexis was breathing heavily, stricken with anger.

"Is this not true? Are you not an expert at banalities, at gossip and take no interest in politics? Is it not true that the prince has taken to me and bedded with me on this very night he promised to spend time with you?" Zaria asked.

Alexis looked away, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You desire the prince, you believed he would be dedicated to you alone, like in the storybooks?" Zaria asked.

Alexis was now sobbing.

"Well I am sorry, I wish the prince had told you sooner, and now we are in a real predicament, because you ordered your man-servant to murder me and I truly don't know how the prince is going to react."

"React, react, how am I supposed to react to this! This is beyond reproach!" The prince called out.

"My lover, please calm, let us talk about this." Zaria put her hand on the prince's shoulder.

"Let's bind these two, and we can confer in the adjacent room alone," Zaria spoke to the angry prince.

"I am sorry to both of you, but due to your crimes you are at risk of fleeing, so we are going to have to bind you while we discuss your fates," Zaria said as the prince pulled a long rope out of a drawer. Each room had rope supplied in case an emergency fire exit needed to be made.

The prince cut the rope in half and handed it to Zaria, "I'll tie the woman." the prince harshly spoke.

The prince approached Alexis, "I am sorry!" She spoke to the prince, her apologies on this night were the first times she had ever attempted an apology in her life, she was insulted that they seemed to have no effect on the visibly angry prince.

"Turn around put your hands behind your back!" Alexis did what she was told, the rough rope was tied harshly around her wrists, he cut the rope with his sword when he was done.

"On your stomach, on the bed!" The prince ordered. Alexis lied flat on her stomach on the bed. Prince Philip then tied Alexis' ankles together and cut the rope again.

"It's so tight, I am so uncomfortable." Alexis protested.

"I am not done yet." The prince stoically replied as he looped a rope around the tie that fastened both Alexis' ankles and wrists together. The prince harshly tugged, forcing Alexis' back to arch uncomfortably. "Ow," Alexis cried out as prince Philip tied the rope. Alexis was still in her night slip, steadfastly hogtied. Her face cringing with discomfort and humiliation.

"Shall we confer" Zaria looked over at Prince Philip. Philip looked over at Archibald now securely fastened to the dresser, rope strewn about his frail body.

For almost an hour, Alexis was forced to endure her bondage as audible murmuring was heard in the adjacent room. Alexis sniffled and cried as she realized that her aspirations and dreams were most likely over, she cursed at Archibald and blamed him. Archibald agreed he was to blame and sobbed uncontrollably. Zaria and Prince Philip seemed to disagree on what to do, but neither Archibald nor Alexis could make out their exact words. Finally, Prince Philip emerged with Zaria.

Alexis realized that she was now entrapped in an elaborate revenge scheme. Zaria had to have known that Alexis was going to ask Archibald to murder her after she upstaged Alexis at the dinner. This is why she on this night made sure the prince lied in her room. She probably laid in wait all night for her assassin. Alexis realized she was dealing with a very cunning adversary.

"Stop your sniffling, you pathetic louts," Philip said with cutting disdain.

"We've come to a solution." Zaria spoke.

"From day one our plan was to have Alexis be the figurehead for the kingdom while I privately acted as the true wife and advisor to the prince. Alexis still has that opportunity. As for Archibald, his life can be spared as well. Philip will you continue."

"Alexis I will bring you up on charges of adultery, for which you will be given a public punishment, not in front of the peasantry, but in front the nobility. The punishment shall be implemented by a female executioner. You shall be forced to lie over the executioner's lap in the nude in my court and take a public spanking on your bare arse! Do not worry I will not cancel our wedding necessarily, although it will cause a few of the older generation to think of you as a harlot. They will learn to accept you as their princess and future queen."

"I cannot endure that! I have never been struck! The shame, the humiliation it will be far too great for me to bear!" Alexis protested, her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. She struggled against her bondage.

"The alternative, is a charge of treason, for which the punishment shall be a public nude whipping and death by the gallows."

Alexis wriggled in her bondage, slamming her head into the bed in hysterics. Glancing at Zaria she noticed Zaria had cracked a wicked, taunting smile.

"Don't smile at me you bitch!"

"Shutup!" The prince ordered as he continued.

"The next part of your punishment shall be much more private, yet just as humbling. In exchange for doing this, I will allow you to act as queen publically. Privately however you will be Zaria and myself's servant. You will do what we say."

"I'll never be her servant!" Alexis spoke still shaking with anger.

"Then you will not marry me and will not act publicly as my wife, instead you shall be given to a nunnery to live your life out in obscurity and chastity."

Zaria spoke, "I know neither of those choices is good choices for you, I hope you understand what is at stake for you. We will give you a day to make your decision. In the meantime, you will be put into a prison cell to make your decision." Zaria smiled and ruffled Alexis' hair.

"You bitch! I hate you!" Alexis screamed as she squirmed in her bondage.

"Remember you are lucky we are sparing your life, for you have attempted to murder someone very dear to me." The prince added, kissing Zaria on the lips before speaking again.

"Archibald! You will also be put into a prison cell for the next 24 hours, your punishment will be decided based on Alexis' decision." Prince Philip said looking down on Archibald who was helplessly sobbing while tied to the dresser.




The Whipping Girl's Revenge



"The guards will be called to take both of you away, you will be both brought forth to us at 4:00 in the afternoon tomorrow," Zaria spoke as she left the room to notify the guards.

***

"Alexis' Decision"

***

"How dare you!" Alexis screamed as the cell door crashed closed and the guard quickly locked it. Alexis shook the bars with her hands and spat at the guards. Clad in a burlap sack, which was the standard prisoner outfit, and wearing no shoes, her hair a tangled mess the Baroness was for the time being defeated.

Her thoughts were swirling around in her head, she was unable to think clearly. She was filled with rage. She dropped to the straw prison cell floor and pulled at her hair weeping. "This can't be happening!" Screaming out loud, her cried echoing through the halls of the prison unanswered.

She couldn't believe it, her whipping girl, the lowest of her servants had come from nowhere and bested her in every way, death was surely preferable to this humiliation. With her eyes wet with tears, Alexis thought about her options.

First off for her to even continue to live, she had to accept being shamed as an adulteress and spanked publically, the humiliation would be nearly unbearable. Yet the shame of being executed in an equally humiliating manner for the even more shameful crime of treason was even worse. Alexis did not want to be remembered as treasonous. If she took the public punishment, she could at least have an opportunity to raise her reputation afterward. As unbelievable as it was her best option would be to accept the public spanking. Her face was growing red just thinking about it.

Her next decision was to decide whether or not she would accept the public life of a queen while living the private life as a servant, a servant to her former whipping girl no less. Her other option would be to live in obscurity, in chastity as a nun. As much as she hated the thought of being a servant to her enemy, she longed for the life of a queen. It would be glorious to see all of her admirers, her fashion adopted by women throughout the kingdom, paintings of her adorned around the palaces. 

She would toil in the nunnery, probably growing to despise her superiors, just as she despised Zaria. Most likely saddled with a chastity belt, unable to release her immense sexual energy. Alexis realized she could scheme and plot her revenge better if she were in closer proximity to her enemy, Zaria. In the nunnery, she would have no hope of revenge against her arch rival. She still lusted after Prince Philip mightily, she loved him, even if he didn't return that love. If she was in close proximity to him, performing her public duties as Princess/Queen she may win his hand back. Alexis longed to see Zaria's face when she sent her to the gallows.

Alexis knew that the choices by Prince Philip and Zaria were stacked to favor Alexis taking the most humiliating decisions. Alexis knew Zaria was behind all of this. Zaria somehow knew Alexis better than anyone, she had observed Alexis carefully finding her weaknesses and waiting all of these years to somehow exploit them. Zaria did not want Alexis to die, but instead to suffer a crushing defeat. Alexis knew she was playing into her enemies hand, but she also knew she had little to no real choice.

By the early afternoon Alexis' decision was final, she could not make peace with future humiliation, but the alternatives were even worse.. She cringed at the thought of her nakedness being exposed to the royals or her servitude towards her rival, but as bad as this choice was, it was her only hope to become a respected queen, which was as it always had been her lifelong dream, her destiny.

***

"Alexis On Her Knees"

***

Alexis felt the burning stares of the nobility who walked through the palace as she was escorted into the Prince's chamber clad in prisoner's garb. Her hands tied tightly behind her back. Her bare feet touching the cold marble floors. Nonetheless Alexis walked tall with confidence, even looking down her nose at the people who stared. Knowing full well that at least by appearances she would be their future queen and they would bow before her.

The guards pushed Alexis into the prince's quarters and immediately shut the door. Prince Philip greeted Alexis immediately and locked the door. Alexis made an icy stare towards Zaria who was sitting on the foot of the royal bed calmly combing her long dark hair.

"Oh, my sweet dear! You are okay! Praise the lord! Did the guards harm you?" Archibald was there, clad in his usual trousers and shirt.

"Shutup, Archibald!" Alexis shouted.

"Oh, will you ever forgive me!" Archibald cried out.

"Silence!" Prince Philip yelled at Archibald.

"What is your decision?" Prince Philip looked with contempt at Alexis.

"I have decided to take you and Zaria up on your offer," Alexis said confidently, trying to maintain her composure.

"Please repeat to me what the offer was?" the Prince ordered.

"I will be labeled as an Adulterer, and Spanked..." Alexis choked and stuttered, "Pub...pub...publicly...in...front...of, the nobility." Alexis paused again.

"And?"

"I will publically act as your princess and queen, but privately I will be your servant." Alexis tried to maintain her composure, but tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at the taunting smile of Zaria.

"My servant...AND my lover's servant, you must say it!"

Holding back tears, trying to maintain her composure, Alexis spoke "...and your lover's servant." Alexis' fists were clenched in rage still tied behind her back. As she thought about what she said, jealousy burned inside of her.

"Now onto Archibald!" The prince spoke directly at the cowering Archibald. The prince continued to speak.

"After questioning this man, we have determined him one of the most loyal servants in this kingdom, and YOU Alexis led him astray. I have never once witnessed such dedication from a servant to his mistress. Yet he has attempted to murder a baroness, a baroness merely by marriage, but a baroness nonetheless. She also happens to be my lover and confidant, for whom I have the utmost respect. Therefore, it is in my will as a high-ranking royal to devise a punishment suited for such a treacherous deed, albeit a deed committed out of undying loyalty. The punishment will be fitting, but first I believe YOU Alexis owe your servant something."

Alexis looked at the prince trepidatiously.

"Zaria, you explain to Baroness Alexis, what she must do for the servant Archibald." The prince motioned to Zaria, who stepped forward, smiling.

"We have witnessed undying devotion from this man, and it seems that it at least partially stems from his lust towards his mistress. He has wanted nothing more than to please his mistress, so that he shall receive some kind of loving gesture, in return. So far he has been entirely unrequited in his never ending quest of a simple hug, or physical stroke that proves that his love is not unrequited, that he is appreciated as a man. Therefore, before we punish this man, we believe he deserves the highest praise from his mistress. Alexis, you are the reason he is here pathetically begging for mercy before us. Therefore, it would be justified for you to give him your body."

Veins were popping out of Alexis' neck. "MY BODY, NEVER!"

"Hush!" Zaria began to speak again, "Now we wouldn't want a woman who may be a future queen, who may actually be a mother to future kings or queens to be accidental inseminated by such a lowly man. We wouldn't want the royal blood spoiled with such weak disgusting genes. We wouldn't want a pariah child born into this world without any chance of success, so I say that it shall be forbidden for him to penetrate you. Instead, I believe that you shall at this moment disrobe and drop to your knees and as the prince and myself as witnesses pleasure this man with your mouth."

Still handcuffed Alexis screamed, "NEVER!" she stomped her bare foot into the marble floor indignantly. 

"Now, Alexis, please let me remind you, that you are a servant now! You just agreed to this. You must do exactly what we say, or else the deal is off, you will never become queen." The prince interjected. 

Alexis' jaw shifted, her face seemed to get even more red, she nearly gagged even thinking of putting Archibald's member in her mouth.

"The choice is yours, do what we say, or go to the nunnery. Either is an honorable choice, considering the circumstances." The Prince said calmly, he looked like he was fed up dealing with Alexis.

Alexis nearly gagging spit out the words, "But...by servant...I didn't think, you meant?"

"No, your servitude is not necessarily a sexual servitude, but I believe as your master and mistress we are justified in requesting that you perform oral copulation with Archibald."

Alexis slowly walked towards Archibald, "I will not enjoy this!" She said to Archibald. Almost in shock at the level she was stooping.

"Remember to disrobe." Said the prince in a matter of fact tone.

"Uncuff me, then," Alexis said still searing with anger.

"I would have to get the guards, they are the ones with the key. I will cut your dress from you with my sword." With that statement Alexis felt her burlap outfit get cut from her back, first her breasts were exposed to Archibald, Alexis closed her eyes in shame. Feeling hard tugs at the rest of her outfit, she stood completely exposed to Archibald. When she opened her eyes, she stood fully naked stewing in shame. She shifted on her feet and felt almost faint. Zaria, her former whipping girl and the man she loved watched on as she stood naked in front of her loyal servant, who could hardly contain his glee.

Alexis slowly lowered herself to her knees, she opened her eyes and was staring directly into Archibald's crotch area.

"Archibald drop your pants and present yourself to your mistress for whom you so strongly desire," Zaria said sternly.

Archibald fumbled nervously with his belt, finally loosening it and dropping his pants, revealing a small flaccid penis strewn with gnarly pubic hair.

"Hahahahaha." The prince let out a hearty chuckle at the size of Archibald's cock. Zaria covered her mouth and giggled, looking away.

"You would think his little pecker would be as hard as a rock, for all of his lust towards Alexis." The prince said in jest, getting a laugh out of Zaria.

"I am nervous! It will grow!" Archibald said defending his position and his size.

Alexis let out a deep breath.

"Get sucking will you!" The prince demanded, still chuckling, now with his arm around Zaria.

Looking disgusted and still handcuffed Alexis opened her mouth and took most of Archibald's cock into her mouth, immediately spitting it out. "Disgusting!" Alexis spat.

"You owe it to your poor servant," Zaria said in a taunting voice.

Alexis tried again, putting her mouth on Archibald's small flaccid penis. She began bobbing her head, pulling the small cock with her lips. Archibald ran his hands through his hair and moaned. Alexis could feel Archibald's cock getting bigger and harder. Still her face was met with pubic hair frequently and because of the size of Archibald's cock her chin touched Archibald's hairy scrotum.

Archibald moaned some more, looking down on his mistress as she sucked him off on her knees, naked and handcuffed. Her head bobbed furiously fast in an effort to induce ejaculation as quickly as possible. Alexis was painfully aware of how ridiculous she looked, but her main objective was to end her ordeal speedily. Then almost suddenly Archibald's cock was hitting the back of Alexis' throat, as he was fully erect. Alexis began to gag and retch, partially because of a natural gag reflex and partially because of the disgusting taste, yet she did not stop, she was determined to end the ordeal in a timely manner.

"Is she going to vomit?" Zaria questioned, taking in the scene with unabashed glee.

Alexis made disgusting gagging noises, the backs of her feet patted the marble floor, her toes curled. Yet she did not take her mouth off of Archibald's cock. She hoped she would know when his cock was about to spew its fluids and could avoid tasting Archibald's nasty spunk.

Archibald cried out in pure ecstasy.

"It's bigger, but it's still very small," Zaria commented, biting her lower lip.

"He's already about to release his sperm." The prince said shaking his head laughing at Archibald's lack of stamina.

Alexis continued to gag and retch, she could taste a small bit of ejaculate in her mouth already. She felt nauseated, it was only a matter of time before she vomited, she was thoroughly disgusted. Alexis closed her handcuffed hands into fists. Then as Alexis sucked, to take her away from this uncomfortable mortifying situation, decided to pretend she was sucking the prince's cock. For a moment she enjoyed her plight, then suddenly with little warning Alexis felt a disgusting jet of ejaculate spurt into the back of her throat, her eyes opened as wide as they ever had. The taste was overwhelmingly awful, bitter and salty, it forced her to pull her mouth off of Archibald's cock. Alexis was then met by a powerful blast of cum directly onto her forehead. Shocked and appalled she screamed, only to be silenced by a shot into her mouth. Alexis looked like she was going to vomit as she choked on Archibald's semen. Alexis attempted to duck away. At this point Alexis was hit in the eye with more semen.

"ARCHIBALD!" Alexis managed to scream. She would have attacked him if her hands had not been bound.

Archibald was shaking, almost tumbling over from the pleasure, he was frantically stroking his cock, which was still shooting massive shots of semen, which fell onto Alexis' breasts and thighs. Archibald had his mouth agape moaning uncontrollably.

"I am sorry my sweet...one," Archibald said numbly as he still stroked his cock in a daze.

"Shutup, you worm!" Alexis yelled, looking around the room, red in the face, completely mortified. Alexis with one eye opened, one eye dripping with cum, screamed, "CLEAN ME, CLEAN ME OFF! GET THIS DISGUSTING GOO OFF ME!" Alexis to no avail attempted to vomit out the semen that she had ingested. She dry heaved hunched over towards the floor, semen slowly flowing down her face.

Archibald was thrown a small rag. "Clean up your mess." The prince ordered.

Zaria was laughing, "Oh god, that was so much cum from such a little dick." The prince laughed and agreed, hugging Zaria as he laughed.

"I am sorry my pretty," Archibald whispered as he dabbed the rag on Alexis' face.

As this was happening Zaria left the room and came back with a curious device.

"I will now present to you your punishment," Zaria said.

Archibald froze, spots of sperm still pooled on Alexis' body and face as he saw Zaria holding a small cage apparatus.

"This is your chastity belt, Archibald."

"What?" Archibald was confused.

"Notice that this device will be placed around your waist like underwear, it is made of metal. Notice this small attachment in the front."

Archibald looked frightened. Alexis breathed heavily, annoyed that her servant had stopped doing his job. His cum still splattered all over her face and body.

"Archibald some is still on me!" Archibald ignored his mistress.

"The small attachment can hold your flaccid penis, as soon as you become aroused and your penis begins to expand, the metal will stop it. I hear it's painful."

"But...but...how will I?"

"This dalliance with Alexis will be the last time you ever know any sexual pleasure."

"Oh...god." Archibald fell to his knees.

"Yes and you are being reassigned to be a servant in a harem. It will be your job to bath the prostitutes, who are all attractive, this normally a well sought after servant's job. But for you, it will be constant lust with no chance of release. I have instructed the prostitutes of the brothel, to regale you with their charms when they have the energy.. They will get a good chuckle from your tiny member. Be lucky your life was spared."

"No...no...tis maybe not lucky my life was spared!" Archibald looked deftly afraid.

"Put your pants back on, the guards will be waiting for you outside this door, your chastity belt will be fitted and you will be off to your fate."

Archibald slowly pulled up his pants and buckled them, looking down at Alexis who was now seated, blotches of his semen drying on her face.

"Farewell, my love," Archibald said weeping.

"FUCK OFF, YOU PATHETIC TINY DICKED LOUT!" Alexis screamed. 

With his head bowed down Archibald left the room, you could hear his pathetic protests as he was physically carried away by the guards. Now it was only Alexis, Zaria and Prince Philip left the room. 

***

"The Public Spanking of Alexis Von Tromp"

***

Dear Diary,

I have never felt such shame and humiliation in my life. Yet I fear the worst is yet to come. I have been informed that a special female executioner will administer the spanking. I will be spanked in front of the senior royalty, people whom I have admired my whole life. My shame shall be so great, I do not know if I can take it. Archibald how I loathe thee if you had just murdered Zaria as you were told this whole ordeal would not be happening. The spanking will be unbearable as I have never been struck once, my tolerance for pain is probably very low. I shall try and keep my dignity the best I can.

ZARIA, that loathsome usurper, bitch! She always seemed so innocent and nice, how unlucky am I to have a whipping girl that I mistreated so, turn out to be so stunning and conniving! Her beauty makes me jealous, her intelligence makes me jealous, her cunning makes me jealous. Everything about her makes me stew with rage. As I write this tears well up in my eyes. I wish for the universe to take pity on my soul, and send a disease to Zaria so vile that her guts spill out. I fantasize at this moment laughing at her as she dies in agony. Zaria is a wicked bitch! I find myself shaking with anger, unable to continue this entry. Now I wait, wait for the greatest humiliation I will ever endure, life is terribly unfair!

Days passed, Alexis stayed in her quarters, waiting anxiously for her punishment, praying to be spared. When the morning arrived Alexis was an emotional wreck, but she was determined not to let that fact be displayed to the royal audience.

"Baroness, your punishment is scheduled, I will escort you to the prince's court." A stoic guard said to Alexis as she stared blankly out the window in her quarters.

"Very well." Alexis turned around, she was dressed in a fine gown, she had meticulously prettied herself for this day, she wanted to maintain as much dignity as she could muster. With her head held high she briskly walked out of her quarters, she was already holding back tears.

Alexis' heart sunk into her stomach as she walked down the lengthy palace corridors towards the prince's court. Faltering as she entered the wide doors of the room.

"I can't!" Alexis urgently whispered to the guard.

"Then I shall take you to the prison." The guard grasped her hand and started to lead Alexis back.

"No...I must." Alexis pulled back at the guard.

"Make up your mind now, this is no time to second guess your destiny!" The guard responded.

Holding back tears Alexis knocked on the door. Immediately as she was revealed to the crowd of royal onlookers trumpets blared announcing her arrival. Alexis held her head up high and walked straight sniffling slightly as she saw many important royals staring at her indignantly. Her legs barely made the journey. 

Alexis saw the prince standing on the court's wooden stage. The stage existed for the rare case of a trial, which were only held occasionally for nobles. Today it existed it seemed to perfectly highlight Alexis' very humiliating punishment. She was to be spanked like a spoiled brat. Alexis was despondent staring into space as she marched towards the prince.




The Whipping Post



The Mint Julep Cafe was bubbling with conversation. The table was full of slim, tan women, who all sported the same hairstyle and pastel clothing. It was the Spring Book Club Luncheon. I was on their tennis team and at that time, one of the few social activities I engaged in since we moved to the South.

My quirky ponytail, black top, capris, and little heels are subtle ways I keep true to myself. Chicken salad, crumpets, and sweet ice tea, were not for me, and I just sat picking at it. I hate chicken.

There was a pale woman with maroon colored ringlets, sitting in the corner, trying to blend into the wallpaper. She had the same bored look on her face that I did. There was an empty chair next to her, so I moved.

"Hi! My name is Nikki."

"I'm Tanya. Nice to meet you."

"Are you a new member of the tennis team? I've never seen you before."

"I don't play tennis," she laughed. "I just do hair, their hair. They've invited me to these luncheons so many times; it seemed rude to miss out on this one."

The Stepford wives took turns sharing their opinions on how the book affected their lives. It was fiction for cripes sake! Soon, we were chatting away in spite of the disapproving looks. We just didn't care.

"You didn't read the book either, right?"

"Well, it's not a book I would have picked," she deadpanned.

I snickered.

"What book would you have picked?"

"The Story of O," she said matter-of-factly.

I sensed a fellow kinkster.

"And you?"

Should I tell her?

"Can you keep a secret?"

She laughed, "I'm a hairdresser!"

"Well...I write dirty stories."

Both of us realized it would be wise to switch to a more conventional topic, like hair.

"Long hair is great in the summer. I just pull it up and clip it, but, the pressure is on to 'update' my look."

Tanya suggested I see her husband Sean.

"He's was an artist with hair. The scissors are his paintbrush," she said and handed me her card.

Was it cosmic coincidence that we would meet each other at a luncheon like this? What did I have to lose? I made the appointment.

A week later, I walked into the upscale salon and it appeared deserted. The stations flanking each side of the shop were empty. The phone rang a few times and no one answered.

"Hello? Is anybody here?"

There was no answer, but, as I turned to leave, I heard an echo of footsteps. A thin giant appeared from the back of the salon. He had a mass of hair but, his broad shoulders rather balanced out this visual paradox. Scowling, he wiped his ruddy forehead.

"Can I help you?"

His fly was open.

"I'm your ten o'clock. Nikki."

He scanned the appointment book and marked off my name.

"What are you having done?"

"Cut only," I replied.

"What happened to your hair?"

That sounded snippy!

"What do you mean?"

Blood rose to my face.

"I don't think I can do anything with it."

How dare he!

Tanya said you were an artist with hair."

He moved closer and touched it here and there.

"Let's go see what this artist can do," he laughed. "My name is Sean."

As Sean walked me to the back, I saw the reflection of a woman adjusting her underwear through her skirt, most likely, the receptionist.

I put on the plastic cape and placed my neck onto the shampoo bowl. It felt like heaven as he gently massaged my scalp, working up a nice lather, and then rinsing it with warm water. When he finished toweling my hair, he gestured toward his workstation. 

Carved Dragons flanked the full sized mirror. The chair was positioned atop a mosaic of flames. It seemed as if he walked me from heaven into hell. There is a point during a visit to the hairdresser when silence can be a blessing or a curse.

"Where's Tanya today?"

The receptionist straightened like a rod was shoved up her ass.

"She should be in soon," he said roughly pulling the comb through a tangle.

"Tanya said you're trying to conceive another child."

Have you ever seen someone who looked like a deer caught in the headlights? It's not a good idea when they are cutting your hair.

"We ARE trying to have another kid, but, I have to get my vasectomy reversed."

His cell phone rang.

"I gotta take this," he apologized.

"Yeah baby. I miss you too. Coming by the shop? Yeah, she's right here in my chair. Did you tell her I was an artist with hair?" He paused, "Love you baby. See ya soon."

The phone call cheered him up and soon the conversation turned to a monologue of what HE liked. How boring. I changed the subject.

"How did you and Tanya meet?"

"We met at Chippendale's. I was a stripper there."

My eyes registered surprise.

"No! Really?"

Sean's chest puffed out like a peacock.

"Yeah. Those were great times. There were girls sticking money in my pants, trying to cop a feel of the boys."

"I thought most male strippers were gay," I said innocently.

Gee, I felt so bratty. It was great.

His ruddy face turned purple and he grabbed a handful of my crowning glory, snipped it off, and dropped it on my lap. While he worked in complete silence, my hair was lifted in hanks and slashed. I watched it float down onto the floor of flames. The chair went round and round, swiveling like a potter's wheel until finally, it stopped in front of the mirror where Sean stepped away to admire his work of art.

"Voila!"

I liked the cut! It was short, spiky, and had attitude.

"Tanya's going to like this," he said with pride.

"Yes, I like it," said Tanya who was suddenly standing behind us.

As she swiveled the chair so that I faced her, my heart was beating fast.

"Call me when you are ready to talk about coloring your hair red. With those green eyes and fair skin..."

Her voice trailed off as she ran her fingers through it then looked into my eyes, straight to my soul. We hugged tightly and promised to get in touch soon.

It was a pivotal summer. I continued to write smut, but it took a decidedly darker tone. As my exposure to different permutations increased, so did the variety of characters and plots. The heroine(s) in the stories explored domination, submission, sadism, and masochism.

Then, I met an online master who schooled me with discussions, tasks, and then, training. For example, I learned why I get a rush and very wet between my legs when humiliated in certain ways. I came to embrace pain, because through it, I experienced a type of euphoria that made sexual orgasm an accidental bonus. He was handed temporary power, domination over me, in exchange for making me do things I didn't want to do. The acceptance of submission is doing those things because I need to. It really is hard to explain. This type of play became a need and the urge to pursue it, persistent.

The domme's revelation fermented ideas for stories. The female dominants that were spawned resembled the mysterious and imperious Tanya. Picturing those long legs standing over a helpless me, painting my backside with a flogger gave me the shivers. I'd drift and then find my hands in my panties instead of the keyboard.

I needed some help to process this journey and acquire more knowledge. As luck would have it, Tanya and I ran into each other at the grocery store and agreed that we were due for a reunion. While dispatching emails like peashooters, I shared with her that my writings have included elements of BDSM. Next thing I know, she called me on the phone.

"Nik, if I admit something to you, will you keep it to yourself?"

"Of course!"

"In my other life, before I became a wife and mother, I was a Domme."

I was too speechless to answer.

"Nik? Are you there?"

"I'm here."

"Did I freak you out?"

My heart whispered 'submissive.' My mind heard the whisper.

"No." I felt a grin spreading across my face. "You made my day."

We made an appointment for lunch on Tuesday. She ordered me to show up without my panties and wearing a skirt. I got a dizzy feeling. Was she serious or playing with me?

I dawdled around the house and procrastinated until the last minute. There were butterflies in my stomach. There were three outfits on the bed and I couldn't up my mind. The clock was ticking. Finally, I decided on a tank top, fitted skirt and little heels...AND, of course, no panties.

Oops, I was going to be late. Would she would be annoyed enough to spank me? I was wet at the thought of receiving discipline in one form or another as I raced to the café. Would there be a telltale spot on my skirt?

It was twenty minutes past our appointed time and she wasn't there. My cell phone was still on the charger! I felt remorse. Was she was playing mind games with me? Did I engineer my fate? God, what should I do?

If Tanya was a real domme, she had me by the short hairs already. Oh, wait. I didn't have any! My bearded clam was denuded with laser treatments last year. She'd SEE that, would she? I'm jumping to conclusions. Nevertheless, the off-chance possibility of further humiliation made my hoo-hoo throb.

As I sat in the cafe, a trembling bundle nerves, the door opened. In walked the tall, thin, wisp of a woman who approached to wrap her bony arms around me in a gentle hug. Flowing red hair and dressed all in black, she carried a heavy, black, leather purse with bullet sized silver grommets. She was a commanding presence.

"You are late, missy."

"Yes, I am. There was no gas in the car."

"You sound like a kid whose dog ate his homework," she laughed.

Tanya sat down across from me and we ordered lunch.

"What are you wearing under your skirt?"

"I...uh..." Oh, how I stammered and turned a million shades of red. "Nothing."

"Nothing, MA'AM," she said correcting me.

Ma'am smiled coldly as she ordered me to lift the hem of my skirt and spread my legs.

"Your actions were disrespectful and further instances will not be tolerated."

I nodded apologetically.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Touch that pussy and tell me if it is wet."

Tanya held control with her eyes as I reached under the table to touch IT.

"It's wet, Ma'am," I stammered.

"Just as I thought. Sluts are always wet."

Her words stung. My online Master says that often when we play, therefore, I must be a slut.

Mortified, I watched her reach for the black leather bag, the one that was big enough to carry handcuffs and a small flogger, perhaps a ball gag, too. Would she tease me or further embarrass me?

Then, to my utter horror, she pulled a Bible out of it. I wanted to cry. Alas, my hopes of talking openly with her about BDSM had gone up in smoke. However, the intense experience taught me about real life public humiliation. Strangely, I wanted more.

Meanwhile, my development as an online slave had progressed to the point where my limits needed pushing. My Master sent me a questionnaire along with instructions to fill it out and send them back to him. He also filled one out and sent it to me. What was the questionnaire? It was a checklist of all sorts of kinks. Each one had a numbered scale next to it to indicate level of interest. It was very confusing. I'd had to redo it several times. So, I called Tanya for help.

We agreed to meet at a busier spot. She reminded me not to wear panties.

"But it's cold..." I objected!

"And..." she retorted?

As usual, I was running late. The phone rang at 11:20 am. I had just hopped out of the shower, looked at the caller id, and saw it was her.

"Have you left yet?"

"I'm about to go get some gas. I'll be there by noon," I lied.

The bustling lunch spot had lots of tables. It was a perfect location for interviewing the domme. This time, Tanya arrived after me, and, as usual, in black attire. Her steel-toed black leather boots each had a chain wrapped across the top and under the heel. The purse from last time made a return appearance, hopefully without the Bible.

Although her bearing was regal, she had tropical blue eyes that could turn icy at the snap of a finger. The phrase 'be careful what you wish for,' that was running over and over in my head, was an understatement.

Tanya ushered me to a table against a wall that buffered the noise, but did little to shelter us from the close proximity of the other diners. At most, the closest table was seven feet away. Once we placed our order for soup and sandwiches, our eyes connected. Tanya smiled evilly as she handed me a brown paper sack across the table. I felt a cramp in my stomach.

"Go put these on. The restroom is over there," she pointed.

I peeked in the bag and saw a brand new pair of undies.

"While you're gone, show me what'cha got."

"Um," I coughed. "Here's that questionnaire. Can you explain some of these things?"

As she glanced over the papers, her head nodded.

"Make it quick, Nik. Our food will be here any minute."

I went into the stall and pulled a pair of white panties out of the bag. A tiny, flat vibrator was sewn into the crotch. The word SLUT was imprinted on the back in big black letters.

"Son of a bitch!"

I was excited and scared at the same time. What was she going to do? With the device ensconced against my clit, I teetered back to the table. The food was already there. I saw the remote control in the palm of her hand. Nothing more needed to be said.

"This is a fetish questionnaire. Both of you ranked your interest in them on a scale,: she noted.

"Yours?"

"No. That's his."

I felt a pin pricks on my beaver. She had engaged the remote.

"It's evident he likes boobs and pussy, foot worship, no mystery there...oh..."

She pointed to another question, "Yours?"

I nodded. The panty vibe switched from tingling to oscillating pulses.

"It says here you dislike public humiliation. Is that right?"

I nodded again and said, "Yes, Ma'am."

"It looks like something WE can work on," she grinned.

Her comment made me fearful. The vibration stopped. "Let's go over the rest of these..."

Of course.

For about an hour, we went through the questionnaire and during that time, I experienced every dial on the remote. Tanya covered all the kinks and explained how the dominant would interpret the interest levels. I could not concentrate. When my eyes would get that 'faraway look,' she would press the remote again.

Finally, she hoisted the leather bag onto her lap and casually placed a studded, black leather collar in front of me, in full view of everyone. With hands shaking, I swiped it off the table, but it fell on the floor. As I bent to pick it up, my silverware dropped on the other side of the table. My efforts to be casual were anything but and the patrons around us stopped talking to look. Her grin gaped from ear to ear.

"Is this for me?"

"I love to make you turn all shades of red like that," she said beaming.

Then, the lady domme whipped out a baton style flogger with thin leather strips and laid IT on the table. My eyes glazed over. I didn't know what to say.

"That's for next time."

Tanya looked at her watch and said she had to go. Lunch was over.

"When you get home, take those panties off and put them aside for when I ask you to wear them again.""

Yes Ma'am."

I don't know how I managed to drive, but the NEED to rub my needy pussy was overwhelming. I stuck my hand down my pants, and sped like a demon to get home. Whether the lunch was a fantasy or not, the slave collar was real. I put it on and strummed my pussy feverishly until cream was all over my hands. I imagined her ordering me to stick my fingers inside my mouth and lick them clean. I wanked close to the edge of cumming, just to ride it, backed off and then, started all over again. Oh, what a desperate cum slut I had become.

One day, she succeeded in talking me into coloring my hair red and I made an appointment.

"Don't wear panties. I want to have some fun."

"Ok," I gulped.

As usual, I was very nervous when I arrived at the salon. What would she do today?

"Hi Nikki!"

The greeting came from a couple of my tennis friends whose hair Tanya had just finished styling. We made some small talk and shortly thereafter, they left.

I remember being attentive but quiet when she put her hands on my hair to shampoo it. As she tugged on my wet mane, my face wore a grimace, but I melted like ice cream on a hot day.

"That's better," she said.

Oh, wow! I felt her nails on my scalp, lathering, then pulling, then caressing my head as she rinsed my hair.

"Your look quite spankable today, girly."

I love it when she talks dirty to me.

"At your service, Ma'am."

Once those words crossed my lips, I knew my ass was grass. She pointed to the back room and I almost skipped there.

"Pull down your slacks to your ankles and lay over my knees. Now!"

I wasted no time. Seconds later, I was counting aloud and thanking her after each spank. The first blow connected with a resounding 'slap' and it stung. My nasty pussy was getting wet.

"One. Thank you Ma'am," I said quietly.

"A little bit louder, girly."

"Smack!"

She paused...waiting.

"Two. Thank you Ma'am."

"SMACK!"

"Ouch!"

She rubbed my buns, waiting. The soothing touch combined with the sting felt so good, I forgot to count.

"Well?"

"Three. Thank you Ma'am."

And so, it continued, until at last, I had wet her lap with tears. Her fingers reached between my thighs and pinched my pussy lips...very hard. I burned with shame.

"What a wet slut Nikki is. She likes to be my plaything."

Yes, I did. The pain became tolerable and I slipped into another zone. When the spanking session was over, she pushed me off her lap onto my knees. I apologized for being in such a state. Oh, how I hoped she'd do it again.

"Thank you Ma'am."

"You can go now."

That hair appointment was a turning point. I was addicted to her. What could I do to see her again? Lunch! So I called to set it up.

"I was just thinking about you," said the Domme Tanya.

"Really?"

I sounded confident and chipper.

"Of course," she said.

Of course.

I called to make sure I had the time right, but, she was annoyed.

"What's wrong?"

"Something came up. I have to go get my son from swimming and bring him to art camp."

She declined my offers to reschedule.

"What do you suggest, ma'am?"

I didn't mean to sound cheeky, but I was disappointed.

"There is a small window of opportunity, about an hour or so. Find something to do until I call."

"Sure!"

"I expect you to arrive at my door wearing the studded collar."

What was she thinking? Too bad, she didn't see the color of my face. Upon reflection, she was right to demand that. After all, I am a slut.

Tall, heavy headed, sunflowers guarded the door to her house. I sat in the car, too mortified to get out. Peeking from her window, Tanya beckoned me to duck inside.

"Don't you look cute," she mocked.

No, I didn't think I looked cute at all. Strange, though flustered, I felt redeemed.

She led me into her large living room. It was neat as a pin with everything in its place. The sun was streaming through the windows and I could see the pool outside. As Tanya disappeared to fetch her equipment, I was left me to work my way out of the fog that was my mind.

Before I knew it, she was laying an assortment of toys on the coffee table. On the floor was a metal pole, about three feet wide, with eyehooks on each end. It was a spreader bar. I'd never seen one up close. Tanya, on the other hand, was busy testing the objects. The 'baton' was a short, black, riding crop made of fiberglass. It was quite stiff. A longer crop, the thickness of a walking cane, whistled through the air when she popped it on the couch. Ironically, a harmless looking, whippy, little flogger would sting the most. Then I saw IT. My eyes were glued to the heavy flogger that I hoped to hear and feel. The falls were long and wide. She'd have to step away from me in order to swing. I wished I could hover overhead and watch the scene unfold.




The Whipping Post



"Take off your clothes."

Although I hesitated for a few seconds, the black dress came off, and I stood before her wearing my g-string and heels. The realization of what I was doing and FOR whom, was like a blow to the stomach. My soul surrendered. If only my online Master could see me now.

"Put these on and get on all fours like a bitch dog."

Tanya handed me a pair of leather hand and ankle cuffs, both with D rings. I got down on my hands and knees, and under her cool gaze, exposed my deep humiliation.

"Crawl over to the spreader bar."

My ass was waving in the air. There was no graceful way to crawl.

"That's a good bitch."

It took a lot of trust and a strong desire to please, for me to be in this position. Hell, she colors my hair, how much more can I trust a person? She fastened my wrists and ankles to the bar. My butt and pussy were totally exposed. I felt like a real bitch dog. Did she expect me to bark?

It was at that point that the fog rolled in. With the crop in hand, she tapped my shoulders, upper back, and whatever parts of my breasts she could get at. At first, I wanted to jump out of my skin. Then, she moved onto my butt, cutting little slices on the white canvas. The thighs and calves were incidental.

"What are you thinking slut? Talk to me!"

She wanted to know if I was ok.

"Ma'am?"

"That's better."

The tiny flogger was used on the bottom of my feet. It was tingly at first, but then, it stung as if I had run across hot concrete.

"OW!"

I bit my lip. Would she stop? No, thank God.

Tanya moved through the different toys and described what she was doing. Her words were punctuated here and there with a sharp stroke or thud. Oh, it was heaven. I could have listened to her all day long. However, as the intensity of the strokes increased, her talking decreased. She moved rhythmically in a figure 8, evenly spacing and placing the blows. Blows? No, not blows, they were deep kisses on my skin, lasting ones that I'll remember for awhile. Her shitzu stood at attention close to my face. She looked like a smiling chrysanthemum.

Suddenly the phone rang. Tanya cursed and tried to ignore it for one second, but she took the call. It didn't bother me because I was enjoying the smoochy pup licking my ear. Life was good.

Returning quickly, she asked, "How's my bitch."

"Woof."

Wasting no time, she picked up where she left off and took me even higher, alternating instruments and surprising me. At one point, she put her hand between my legs and pulled my hair with the other.

"Are we wet? Of course! My slut is always wet."

Her breath was ragged as her hand continued to explore my wet cunt. I was riding the edge of a cum.

The phone rang again.

"Fuck!" she spat and stormed out with the baton in hand.

I was getting kissy licks from the little dog again. Wish I could remember her name. Oh yes! Now I do. The doggie's name was Mitzi.

"Hello?"

With a slight exasperation in her voice, she checked something on her computer. It was the same caller as before, changing the first appointment.

Pause.

"Yes, I'm checking. No, there aren't any more appointments for the rest of the week. Ok?"

Pause.

"See you then. Bye."

When she hung up the phone, she stormed back into the room and cracked that baton on the couch so hard, the dog jumped in the air. Under her breath, she vented about the caller. I hoped she would channel that anger into intensity. She started with the baton again, moved to the flogger, and by the time she got to the crop, I didn't remember anything else but calling her a bitch.

"Are you still wet?"

I felt the handle of the crop between my pussy lips. She didn't expect me to answer, did she?

"You are going to cum for me."

What? WHAT? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her pull out a big vibrator. She crouched near my ear and turned it on. I tried to scoot away but couldn't.

"Don't! Please don't make me," I pleaded.

Tanya laughed.

Suddenly, I felt cool air there...at my hoo hoo. It was little Mitzi's short, quick, breaths. Was she trying to protect me or enjoy the show? The vibe tickled the tip of the clit. More fluid came out. Tanya toured the nooks and crannies of my hole. I trembled more.

"Please...

"I panted pushing against her hand. My asshole was winking.

"Fuck it." she ordered as she stuck the vibe inside.

To my utter horror, I did.

And so began the mantra towards cumming..."Fuck...fuck...fuck me..."

"No bitch. You are fucking yourself for me...and I'm enjoying it."

As my hips rotated against her wrist, she pulled the vibe out of my pussy, put it against my clit again, and then stuck her finger in my juicy snatch. I hunched and rode the crest...about to cum. After pumping in and out a couple of times, Tanya put a finger in my asshole.

"Cum for me bitch."

There was a long, lusty wail. It was me. Tanya put down the vibe. Her breathing was hard as she watched me cum.

"You might think you're done, but I'm not," she said, picking up the flogger again.

I don't remember how long she took, but the implements stroked rather than struck. Her fingernails ran along my tenderized skin, though it burned, I cooed. Then her palms ran over the same spots and I got goose bumps. She was bringing me back down slowly. Finally, she unshackled me from the spreader bars and rubbed my wrists and ankles. The walls looked like water.

A sweaty, drained, and parched Tanya checked for bruises or marks and rubbed some cocoa butter here and there. I couldn't care less about the physical marks because none of them was as deep as the humiliation I bore for the bitch.

For some reason, I felt like guilty because appeared strenuous for her and for me, it was cathartic.

"How are ya doin, kiddo?"

How was I? My subbie instincts kicked in and I was concerned about Tanya. How was she?

"Good Ma'am. But, I have a question. Did YOU enjoy it?

She turned to me with a smirk and said, "Hell yeah! I just found myself a whipping post."

That was the nicest thing that bitch ever said to me.

The end.

*

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. 



The Whipping Post



Part 1

They had been together for a month, and the connection had been instant. He had met Raven on the street, boldly walking up to her and asking for a date. She thought Kevin to be cute, in a rugged way. They proved to be inseparable. The enjoyed even the simplest of dates, wearing t shirts and blue jeans, having endless lively conversation. And they enjoyed, fiery, passionate sex punctuated at every chance they had to be alone. 

On their one month anniversary, Kevin had found a note and a package for him at his apartment. The note said:

"Hi Kevin, I want to go out to an exciting new place that I heard about. I think it could be a wild night for both of us. It is fetish club called The Whipping Post. Pick me up on Friday at 10. 

I've wrapped a gift for you -- something for you to wear. I didn't think you had anything suitable, so I thought I would get something that I know you will look great in. I'll be dressed very naughtily too!

Love, Raven"

Inside the package were a pair of leather pants, a PVC top, leather wrist cuffs and a pair of spandex briefs. Kevin's mind whirled, and thoughts of Raven dressed in anything black and provocative made him look all the more forward to Friday night.

Part 2

As they exited his car, he tried to catch more detail of what might lay waiting for him under the knee length coat she wore. There was little evidence. He only saw a pair of black stilettos and black silk nylons. Even as the coat swayed open as she walked, no further clothing showed.

The two entered a dark, but elegant, almost Victorian club. Peering inside, Kevin could see brick walls, red velour furniture, with many alcoves for private seating. It didn't look busy, but they hadn't yet entered the full space. He paid the entrance fee, and left their coats with the hostess, and followed Raven into the building. As he caught up, he realized that her coat was gone, and peering at her from behind made his breath quicken. Above her silk stockings she wore the shortest of mini-skirts. Below the hem, the bottom of her perfect cheeks poked out, with little hint of any underwear. Above that was a perfectly matched corset. Her long dark hair flowed down, caressing her shoulders.

Turning around, he saw that her neck was adorned with a pretty silver necklace. 

"I'll have a gin and tonic. Grab something for yourself too." She said.

He quickly returned and the two spent a few minutes chatting about their outfits, the club and the people. It seemed relaxed enough to Kevin, although he had never been to a fetish night before. People milled around, chatting, having an odd drink. Raven seemed in her element, although she said that she had not been there before. Kevin had seen her naked in their many lovemaking sessions before, but he kept catching himself trying to peer through the corset, down its top, underneath her skirt...anywhere. Her ability to exude so much confidence, while wearing so little, was intoxicating. Or perhaps it was the drink taking effect.

Raven interrupted their conversation. "So my love, do you like what you see?" 

"Absolutely. I'd like to take you home right now and fuck you silly." His come on seemed a little childish, but he was getting into the moment. All of the leather, PVC and lace out in the open like this made for a tremendous visual sight.

"Not so fast there big boy. I want you to show me a good time tonight." She paused. "Actually, I was thinking about doing a little bit of dancing -- and I know how reluctant you are with that. Maybe we should play a game. I call it Take the blue pill or take the red pill. " She held out her hand. From some inconceivable place, she had produced two pills. "The blue one is Viagara. The red one is ecstasy. Go ahead mister, pick one." 

Kevin didn't like the music so much, and he wouldn't ever be caught dead on any dance floor, so he reached out and lifted the blue pill from her delicate hand. It was in his mouth and downed with the last of his rum and coke before Raven could protest. A sly grin came over his face, "I figured that would be the best for both of us."

Raven's demeanor changed, if just slightly. "I see. Is that what you want? Well, allow me the privilege of one more drink, won't you before we leave? It will be an hour until you get truly hard anyways." She patted his groin, then reached into his pocket so as to make an effort fondle his member, but pulled out a bill instead, making her way over to the bar. Kevin watched her speak to the bartender, whose characteristics and mannerisms matched that of Raven's. The spoke at length. 

When she returned, she had another round of drinks.

She began to speak in a more condescending tone to him. "That was very inconsiderate of you. I am not at all pleased. Don't you know how to treat a lady?" For any other woman, Kevin wouldn't have cared, but for Raven -- well, he would have done most anything. 

"You are probably right. But what's done is done. Can't we move on?"

Raven's mood soured again. "Not even an apology. Typical." She paused and produced a studded leather collar from nowhere and put it around his neck. He let her, partly from the shock of the situation and partly because he knew she was upset. After it was firmly around his neck, she kept her finger through one of the eyehooks, making sure she had him firmly in her hand.

"Let me explain to you the situation. This club caters to women to tend towards domination. That is my friend Mistress Karen over there. She now has your money and your ID, which I conveniently took from your pocket five minutes ago. Your keys are in your coat, and I've asked the club to hold that back from you too. So unless you want to walk home, and somehow get into your locked apartment looking like a Goth freak, it looks like you are stuck here with me." 

"I can think of worse places to be Raven -- especially with you looking hotter than ever", Kevin said feeling a little more uninhibited than usual. Her attitude was turning him on it seemed. 

"Still cocky are we? Ok -- take those leather trousers off, I want to see what you look like in just those spandex briefs I purchased for you yesterday."

It seems the games have begun, he thought to himself. Kevin was not against a bit of voyeurism. He'd even had sex with an old girlfriend in front of strangers a few years ago, not that he would ever reveal that to Raven. He unzipped and removed his leather pants, and placed them nicely on the red leather sofa where they were sitting. Karen came over, picked up the pants and gave Raven a silver and leather leash. Without a word, Raven attached it to Kevin's collar. "Tonight, you will follow wherever I wish to go."

"There is something else you should know Kevin. I figured you would wimp out and choose the blue pill. That is why I had my friend mix you something special for your first drink. Some liquid ecstasy should put you in the perfect mood for this evening." This last comment made Kevin quite excited, but also feeling very vulnerable. It seemed that his new girlfriend was three steps ahead of him. 

She whispered in his ear, "Just let go of your inhibitions and trust me. I'll make it worth your while. It will be a night you remember forever." He looked into her eyes for what seemed like an eternity, with that, Kevin got down on his knees and kissed Raven's palms, her knees, the inside of her thighs, and her stilettos. 

Part 3

Raven smiled and released a breast from her corset. "Use your mouth." She commanded him. Kevin took her nipple into his mouth, and slowly caressed it with his tongue, gently teasing and nibbling on it. "Not like that" she told him "suck on it more." 

Kevin began to alternately suck and lick her perfect breast. And as he continued his efforts, it became firmer and the nipple harder. Raven's body began to respond, her back arching and soft whimpers of pleasure coming from her throat which Kevin could hear through the music.

Kevin didn't look up or open his eyes, but their actions had attracted a few curious onlookers, if only for the glimpse of more of Raven's perfect body. It seemed that at this club, anything went.

Raven shook herself from this little bit of pleasure, and used the leash to pull her man's mouth away from her breast. "Come on, follow me" she said.

As Kevin stood, his knees buckled a bit and the room was spinning. Normally, as steady as a rock, his heart was racing, and the flashing lights played tricks on him. She led him up a stairway, and he first laid eyes on a large projection screen which featured S&M acts. A man in his late twenties was being flogged and the camera alternated between the woman issuing the strikes and his face, which showed a curious mixture of expression. 

The intensity of the music increased as they made their way to the center of the crowed. Soon they were amidst a throng of dancers. Kevin's body moved freely to the music, with Raven holding him close. "Dance like we are fucking each other!" she yelled at him. And their bodies came together in a rhythmic liaison. Kevin's arousal in the evening continued to build, from the effects of the drug, the overwhelming crowd of half naked party goers before him, and the woman who was leading him on this submissive journey. His penis was starting to get larger, and with only spandex between it and the air, there would be little left to the imagination soon. 

"I like it when you dance for me." Raven said. "I knew you had it in you. It makes me wonder what else you might be capable of -- or at least forced into doing!" Her eyes flickered. Kevin had temporarily forgotten about the fact that he was within her control -- for as long as she wished it seemed. They danced for what seemed like an unknown length of time, his body started to perspire as the energy of the music and drug continued to drive his desire for her and for more attention.

"Follow me!" she yelled. "I think that they are ready for you." Follow you where, he thought, and to whom. She led him to a small stairway, which led to a portion of the cavernous room that was shielded from the music, but where you could see everything (or more importantly, everybody could see you). "It's blindfold time" said Raven. And with that, the lights went out for Kevin. She led him to what seemed like a large X and secured his wrists and feet to the ends of the X so that he was helpless to move. 

"You haven't been punished for your actions earlier this evening." She said. "Well, right now I'm happy with the way that you pleasured me, and the way you turned me on while we were dancing together -- so I don't think I can punish you. I've asked Mistress Karen to do it. Besides, she is better with the flogger than me."

He felt a soft gloved hand trace over his legs, his arms and his back. A sharp percussion came across half of his back, causing him to take a deep breath in. "What the fuck?!?" went through his mind. It was followed by another, across the other part of his back. Followed by another and then another. He felt the pain, letting it grow, internalizing it, letting it seep deeper and deeper into his skin. The blows continued until his mind floated along with all of the flashing lights his mind's eye saw in the darkness of the blindfold. Whimpers and yelps flowed freely, and it was not any of his care. Then without warning, the flogging stopped. He stood there motionless, hanging limp from the apparatus, breathing slowly as the ache in his back seemed to intensify ever so slightly, causing an overwhelming wave of sensation and calm to his body. After what seemed a few minutes, his blindfold was removed and he anticipated his hands would be freed shortly.

"Whack!"

He screamed, as a hard wooden paddle came across his right ass cheek. It burned a bright red underneath the thin underwear.

"Whack!"

He screamed a second time, as the paddle found his left cheek.

Raven appeared holding the paddle.

"I just want you to know that I too am capable of forcing my will on you. Do you want another?" 

"No!" he pleaded.

"Whack, whack!" came two more brutal hits. He screamed even louder while his body squirmed in futility for the hope that any more strikes would be somewhat off the mark.

Raven re-appeared. "Always remember to apologize when you screw up, got it mister?" 

"Yes Raven, I'm sorry!" he sputtered, trying to compose himself from the pain. She paused to look at his face and body, then reached down into the front of his briefs to check on him. Despite the deepening pain in Kevin's back and buttocks, his cock had grown considerably from the effects of the Viagra. 

"Yes, this will do nicely" said Raven. And she unhooked his hands from the cross, brought them to his back and bound them with handcuffs. Then she unhooked his feet. 

"Follow me to you first humiliation." And she led him down the stairs and back into the throng of dancers, placed the blindfold on once again and held the leash firmly in her hands. 

 

Part 4

Kevin stood in that spot in a daze, completely at a loss for what to do next. Emotions failed him as his senses and psyche were overwhelmed by the music, the pain in his body, the treatment from Raven, and the drugs rushing through his body.

He felt a kiss from Raven's lips on his neck. Affection was very welcome at this time, and it brought him a sense of relief. She tenderly bit his ear, and then said to him, "Tonight you will be violated on this dance floor, by everybody and for everybody."

She took firm hold of his leash. Within an instant, he felt a hand reach into his briefs and he knew it wasn't his partner's. The hand touched his cock. It touched his balls. It wasn't sexual, it didn't provide stimulation. It was an examination. He was relieved when that hand disappeared, and his privacy was restored. But no sooner when the first left, then a second returned. He could tell it was a different hand. Different temperature, different mannerisms, different strength. He opened his mouth to protest and a set of fingers found their way in, grabbing his tongue. Another hand entered his shorts, this time to grasp his balls, tugging on them. An audible laugh was heard. He couldn't see his assailants, but he was quite sure that they were talking about his penis. Its size. Its shape. Its texture. Another pair of hands grabbed him, and these stroked his cock roughly for a few second. Another hand came with fingernails. Another with a glove. Another pinched his shaft. Some just felt him. Some measured. Some squeezed. It went on, over and over again until his legs began to quiver. By now the conversation around him had built into an audible din, quite clear over the music. Everybody was watching and talking about him. Men's voices, women's voices. Kevin thought that the humiliation was completed.

And then a hand reached in to the back of his spandex shorts, and a finger force itself into his ass. The finger found its way slowly, deeper and deeper into his bum, violating it before beginning to build into a rhythmic thrust. It probed him, touching his g-spot, making the anus wider and wider. "Wouldn't you like a cock for that ass hole?" came a voice that was undeniably male. Kevin turned to run, but Raven held the leash tight. 

"Remember Kevin dear, you aren't DONE yet!" she said. And with that she tore off the blindfold, allowing him to see all of the people who had either watched or fondled his cock. They all held up their hands mockingly, using the same gestures that they had used to examine his manhood. Raven went behind him, grabbed the spandex shorts and with great force, tore them from his body exposing his body to all. A cheer went up from the throng.

And with that, the group dissipated, returning to the dancing, leaving Kevin standing exposed in the club.

Raven turned and stared him in the eyes. "How are you feeling my pet?" she asked. "You don't look too bad to me, as she glanced down at his cock." Despite everything that had happened, the flogging, and the humiliation, his cock was gigantic, the largest he had ever seen it grow. It was even starting to hurt slightly from the over engorgement. "It's the mix of ecstasy and Viagra" she said. "The gay community calls it sextasy. Perhaps I should take you to a gay club just like you are now? I'm bet that we can find a nice clean cut boy to suck your cock for hours. I'm sure you would be very popular. "

As much as The Whipping Post had thrown him for a loop, the concept of this new venue was even less interesting to him.

Raven said "Oh well, maybe another night and another fantasy. Well have to work on that, and create a training plan for you. But for now, I think a little bit of me time is necessary."

And without a word, he followed her downstairs, back to the lounge.

Part 5

Raven led Kevin by the leash to a more private area. They sat together and he nestled into her bosom, happy to relax for a minute. Despite that, he realized that he was the only person naked from the waist down that he could see. 

"I've loved watching you tonight Kevin" said Raven. "You are making me so hot, standing and taking your punishment and humiliation like a man. That might sound strange, but here -- it means something". She brought his eyes up to meet hers. "You know that we are still the same? Friends. Lovers. A couple. Tell me you understand that this night changes nothing about how we treat, and love, and respect each other." 

Alex nodded. "I think it will take me some time to recover. But you are still the person who I want to share in my life."

They embraced for what seemed like an eternity, sharing a moment of time free of any interruptions, distractions, or any domination.

"Now my pet, I want you to bury your face into my cunt. Bring me to ecstasy. Make me scream". Raven let go of her embrace and proceeded to lay down on the sofa. She lifted one leg so as to create an opening for her partner. Kevin looked at the beautiful creature before him, and delighted in the opportunity to focus on her for a while. He took his hands and removed her underwear, which turned out to be the most insignificant of thongs.

Kevin slowly moved his mouth down, taking time to kiss various parts of her body as he finally found the soft lips that formed her pussy. He licked them slowly, knowing that he was going to give it the best attention he possible could. "Here, in front of a crowd. Here, after she has shown ME so much attention." His tongue began to explore, to make advances on her clitoris. His tongue darted back and forth. "I can take as long as I want" he thought as her body began to respond, and ask for more.

He teased her as much as he could. Her hands found his head, forcing it further into her pussy, but he remained resolute to make this as controlled as possible. He kissed her clit, sucking it into his mouth over and over. He knew that this drover her crazy -- not enough to get her off, but enough to bring her to the point of no return. Kevin made sure that this went on for as long as he possible could.

"Just fucking do it!" she finally yelled. And Kevin followed the instructions of his mistress, and switched his tongue to flicking the clit. He know that is what brought her to her climax. He attacked it, relentlessly, pinching her nipples with his hands, burying his entire face in her pussy -- relishing the juices the flowed from her.

And all at once, she began to moan, loudly. A group of ten had formed a circle to watch the culmination of his work. She grabbed his hair and tried to pull him off, but he kept going -- kept pleasuring her clit. Soft screams turned into hard ones. Again and again she came to orgasm, wave after wave -- each one building her to a new high. It became clear that he wasn't going to stop -- not just because she was pulling at his hair, for he had braced her down with his forceful arms -- taking whatever pleasure he could in the fact that he controlled this moment. He controlled her pleasure. 




The Whirlpool



I had been out on the deck off my bedroom sunbathing. When I decided to take a nap before our date that night, I had forgotten to shut the french doors. All of the sudden I am aware of a presence in my room. I sit up in bed and notice a shadowy figure at the doors. I somehow knew it was you. 

So I decided to tease you a little. I sit up in bed and stretch, I reach over and turn on my radio. "Freaky Girl" by Shaggy starts playing as I slowly undress. Seductively pulling off my tankini top, I hear you gasp as my voluptuous breasts spill free of the clinging teal green material. And then I slowly run my hands over my breasts making my nipples stand up and become rock hard. I then move my hands down to my shorts and hook my thumbs in the waistband and push them down around my ankles and step out of them. As I do this I run my fingers down to my shaven clean mound and slowly teasing my clit. I hear you breathing deeper as well as moaning louder. I reach over to my nightstand. I pick up my brush and begin brushing my auburn and blonde streaked hair. I then pull it into a bun and casually stroll to my bathroom. I turn and look in your direction "Come take a bath with me my love. "

I say motioning you to follow me. I hear you stripping as you are walking almost running towards the bathroom. When you reach the door I am bent over running on the hot water. I reach up and grab the bottle of vanilla bean foaming bath. I squeeze a generous amount into the water. The room instantly filled with the sweet aroma of vanilla. I also had candles lit around the room and around the tub. I slowly step into the steaming water. And slowly lower myself down as I do this I turn on the whirlpool jets. 

Reaching my hand out to you I help you step in so you can join me. As you sit down and get situated in the water you feel the jets hitting you in all the right spots. I hear a low groan as you feel the jets pulse against your cock and balls. "What made you decide to show up early my love? I wasn't expecting you until 5:00. "I said as I slid over next to you. Letting my hands wander all over the right places. 

"Well, " you start as you moan deeply. "I had a feeling that if I got ready and come on over, I might get a surprise. "You finish as you pull me close for a kiss. The kiss starts as a little peck on the lips. I try to pull away thinking it was over. But you pull me closer and begin to kiss me passionately. Our tongues tangling and intertwining with one another. I can feel the kiss all the way down to my toes. I try to pull away again but you hold on tighter to me. 

You pull your mouth off mine and lean down to whisper in my ear, "Don't pull away from me Slut. You are now mine to do with whatever I see fit. "You tell me in a sex filled voice, that sends chills down my spine. 

"Yes Master. 

"I say as you take me into your arms and hold me close. "Much better Slut. "You answer as your hand begins to slide down my body stopping only to carress my breasts and pinch my nipples. Before moving on down my body to my already dripping wet pussy. I feel you slowly trace the outline of my lips and then your thumb sneaks it's way into my very hot slit. As it works it's way in I feel it start to rub around on my clit. Moaning softly in your ear I reach down with my right hand and begin to massage your cock to full hardness. Although it doesn't take long. Because you are already hard enough to break a brick with it. Just from our kissing and your playing with me. I begin to slowly massage it and I then start to pump it. I then pull away from you and stop what I am doing. You try to pull me back to you and I say "No Close your eyes I have a surprise for you. "

"What kind of surprise? "I hear you ask as I stand up in front of you. I straddle your lap and sit down on your cock. I can feel it filling me up. As I hear you moan louder and louder, I begin bouncing up and down your hard shaft. I listen to your moans and groans grow louder and louder until I know deep inside me that you are about to cum. I stop and sit there with you inside me. Until I can't stand it anymore. I start grinding into you as I can feel my own orgasm begin to build until I can't control myself anymore. I begin grinding faster and harder as I feel you pushing up inside me. 

When my orgasm hits I scream as loud as I can. As I do I hear you screaming and cumming at the same time. I can feel your cum splashing against the walls of my pussy. As I come down I lift myself off your still hard cock. I sit back down in the water I take and pick up a bottle of bath gel. The scent of jasmine and passionflowers fill the room. I squezze some onto a bath sponge, I then take it and begin to wash your body. 

"Would you like me to shave you again? "I ask as I get the supplies I need. As I anticipate the answer. Because I remember how much you liked it the first time.

" Oh Yes, I would love for you to do that again. "I hear you say as you stand up and sit on the counter around the tub. I begin by lathering up my hands so the soap won't be cold after being in that hot water. As I rub in the gel I hear a soft low moan. And as I watch your cock begins to grow again. With all the attention it is getting. I begin paying close attention to your balls. I take them in my hands and roll them around. I then take the razor and start shaving you. Taking my time so I won't cut you, I listen to your low moans and groans. I also watch your cock twitch each time I touch you. " Done. All nice and smoothly shaven. "I announce. As I get moisturizer to put on you trying to make it soft where it won't hurt. By the time we look at the clock we notice that we have missed our reservations. So I ask "How about we eat at Chez LaDonna's? "

"I would love to only if you promise that you will be my dessert. "You say with a devilish grin. But all of that is another story for another time.



The Whirlpool



It has been for some time now that both me and my girlfriend, Rosa have given each other little hand-made love coupons. Imagine my surprise when Rosa gave me one about 3-4 months ago that said, "Good For One Lovemaking Session In A Whirlpool!"

Well, I've ALWAYS enjoyed a good heated whirlpool and eagerly awaited the weekend. We left on a Saturday and brought along a few pairs of swim trunks, and bikinis, some towels, a washcloth or two, a little shampoo, and conditioner, as well as some of her delicious homemade corner sandwiches.

We arrived in Rosa's car at the gate to the teen girl's dormitory sometime around 10pm. My heart sank when I saw a security officer approach.

"Got some I.D. ma'am?" Rosa flashed him a card. He squinted down at the card and then back at her. "Ok! All clear, thank you, miss Prunelly," and then opened the gate.

"What?" I said? She just smiled at me. Rosa was a good 20-years older than me and at times, it was an advantage such as this. The security officer undoubtedly thought Rosa was one of the Matrons here.

"Something an internet friend of mine on here let me borrow." I smiled at her deviousness and we drove on in. The place was quiet and only a few lights were on in the windows. Taking the pack from the car we went in with a set of keys that Rosa, once again, must've borrowed from this mystery internet friend.

"So just who is it that gave you all this stuff?" I asked.

"CHRISTEN." Rosa said. And that's all I could get out of her on that. After a few turns in dark hallways, we found the indoor swimming pool and whirlpool area. I found the light switch and clicked them on. We walked by the whirlpool and it's captivating swirling water and steam aroused me.

We both went to shower together in one little cubicle, this being required before entering either the pool or whirlpool; might as well follow SOME rules, right? :) Anyway, Rosa began to wash her hair with the shampoo and conditioner she had brought. ST. IVY's. My favorite!

I too washed up and with both of us bare ass naked the warm water was already beginning to arouse me so I came up and put my arm around Rosa who just smiled at me until I put my hand down near her lovebox and tugged playfully on her cleft there.

"Now if you start that, we'll never make it to the whirlpool." she said. But she let me play with her for about a good half hour until the hot water from the tap was all used up and we started to shiver.

"Time to get out." she said. And I put on my swim trunks and Rosa put on her bikini and we went to the whirlpool. It was even better than I imagined! The temperature was oh so perfect and the swirling water and bubbles was tickling all over my body.

I purred seductively in her ear and she smiled, kissing me softly on the nape of my neck. There was an inflated head-rest abandoned to one side which Rosa took and nestled into. With that she hoisted up her legs and spread them open wide so I could see her lovebox better.

"See anything you like?" she said in her sweet seductive tone. I looked up at her, Rosa's beautiful long blonde hair cascaded well below her waist and her strong muscular legs.

"Ahhm, yes," I said, but then, "But I need to tinkle first. I'll be right back." She gave me quick directions to the nearest restroom which, oddly enough was not in the pool area at all but a few corridors down. I fumbled around in the darkness until I found a restroom.

But it was for women. Then I realized that I WAS in a girl's dormitory so I'd probably be hard-pressed to find a men's restroom and, clicking on the lights, entered inside.

The odor of young girl's perfume affronted my nostrils and I almost winced at the sweetness of it. Lying on the counter above the sink was a bra with a Mini Mermaid design in it. I took it down and holding it close to me, took in its fragrance.

It then occurred to me that it was possible whoever left it here might come for it later. So I thought I'd better finish my business and return back to Rosa before she began to miss me.

There were two cubicles in there, and, by habit, I closed and locked the door behind me. It was just as well I did when suddenly the outside door to the restroom burst open and I could hear several girls screaming and giggling. There was a brief shuffle of feet and then a girl spoke, but not so young a voice as I would have imagined.

"Here's your fucking bra, Sharon! Right where you left it! I oughta make you wear it on your butt until you can remember to keep up with your shit!" There was a giggling again from about 3-4 other girls. I couldn't tell from here with the door closed.

Curiosity got the better of me and I carefully peered open the door to my cubicle to see no less than 6 young girls in pajamas, except for one taller one, looking to be about 19 or 20 years of age, wearing black panties with silver stripes on the side and a black bra that matched her very short jet-black hair. Damn she was beautiful!

She grabbed the bra from the counter and two of the other girls grabbed Sharon as she started to fit the bra on her backside. Suddenly she stopped to look directly at the cubicle I was in.

I hastily shut the door but it was too late. She saw something.

"Well well! Looks like we've got a visitor! Pay your respects to Christen, ya bitch!"

I kept quiet and backed up against the commode and locked the door. But the locking mechanism was broken and seemed to have been for quite some time.

"Get that cunt out of there!" she said and the door was burst open and girls all said, "Ooooh!" "Where'd he come from!" "Is he a burglar?"

I smiled weakly to Christen.

"What kind of girl do we have here? Damn fucking ugliest girl I ever saw!" and the girls started laughing again.

"Now look - " I started, but she interrupted me and came up close, her young crotch just inches from my face.

"No, you LOOK mister!" and she turned around to face a younger girl who was standing at the entrance to the restroom. At this I couldn't help but notice the very sweet curves in her apple-cheeks, inches from me. She certainly was wearing some low-cut panties.

"Stephanie, on my word, go get Mrs. Jarvin!"

Stephanie was giggling but swallowed hard at the grim look Christen gave her, and with a mock military salute, "Aye aye, sir!" she said chirpy.

Christen rolled her eyes and turning her head around noticed me looking at her tush.

"You gotta problem, mister?" She flexed the muscles in her ass cheeks and I couldn't pull my gaze from it to meet her eyes. I swallowed hard.

"Ahhm, I'm just with my friend by the pool." I said trying to change the subject. "My name's Nate, and yours is?"

"Listen Nate, if that's your name, no-one enters my restroom without first paying proper respect to me. Got it? Since I'm feeling So charitable today - " (the other girls giggled again - damn, that could get annoying after awhile). She raised her voice to regard the others.

"Since I'm feeling so charitable today, you can do me a favor and kiss my ass or I have Stephanie here go call security and through you and your little friend by the pool outta here, comprende?"

She flexed the cheeks in her ass again and, although the other girls couldn't see what she was doing, they all started screaming and giggling again because it was obvious to see that her tush was in my face.

Without waiting for a reply, she jerked down her panties and pulling back the cheeks of her butt with her two hands flexed out the lips in her ass to meet mine.

I had never kissed a young girl's ass before, except since 3rd grade, and it was like pure honey to me. I hesitantly opened my mouth a little and she pushed hard as my tongue found its way into her nether recesses. It was so soft and wonderful. She bobbed a little up and down; my tongue literally fucking her in the ass as the restroom got quiet again.

Then one of the other girls spoke up breaking the silence. "Give it to 'em, Christen!" Another spoke and hooted, "Way to go!" And another, "Show 'em who's boss!"

I couldn't see Christen's face from here but I could imagine. She was obviously enjoying it because I did hear her yell out, "Yea! Lick it good you wuss!"

One of the other girls approached to cramp herself in the cubicle to get a better look, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see the pajamas were the Mini Mermaid design. Undoubtedly the same girl who left her bra in her. I confirmed this in seeing the strap tied around her waist; the bra tied to her backside. I laughed in spite of myself.

Then Christen pulled away. "Something funny, Nate boy? Well tell us all about it! We don't get any guys in here an I'm gonna see to it you kiss every girl's ass in here before I let you go! Then we'll see how much you laugh." she snickered to herself at that prospect.

True to her word, she raised up slightly and made a quick motion to the others, "Line up!"

I could only stare in fascination at her perfect bare heart-shaped ass as a crude line formed outside the cubicle. I could see that Sharon was already rubbing her crotch in anticipation.

But then the voice I recognized as Stephanie's spoke up, urgently. "Shit! It's the ol' Jarvin! Scram!"

The girls all ran out in a flurry, with Sharon running out, the bra still tied on her tush making it hard for her to run. All except Christen who piled in with me and shut the door. Echoing footsteps and the door outside the restroom opened. "Who's in here?" said a much older woman's voice.

Christen took a deep breath, "Just me, Christen, Miss Jarvin." she said in a timid voice.

More echoing footsteps. "Well finish up in there! You've got soccer practice tomorrow!"

I peered out of one crack in the cubicle and saw her wash her hands and fluff her hair up and leave.

"Listen Nate. I gotta go." and she started to leave but then something clicked in my mind. "Wait a minute! Have you ever heard of a PrimRose? Have you heard of her off of the Internet?"

She got up to adjust her panties and thought for a second. "Hey yea! Shit, I forgot all about that, her and her boyfriend were gonna come visit - oh damn, you're the boyfriend. Oh shit. Oh fuck! Listen, like listen OK? I was just having fun, like OK? I didn't mean anything. I just gotta keep those girls in line, OK?"

I looked up into her crystal blue eyes, no longer the abusive young girl I met earlier but someone much sweeter. "Don't tell PrimRose about this okay? She really likes me and I don't want her to know about this okay?"

I smiled at the hear in her eyes. "Ok, will do, lass. But, while you're here, would you like to meet her in person? She's down at the whirlpool now. Bur first, lemme finish some business here and I'll be right with you."

"I can't do that! Shit. I'm not wearing diddly - "

"Well neither am I." I interjected. "And neither is she. After all we are going to the pool. You look just fine."

She bit her lip for a second. "Really?" Then went over to the mirror to straighten her hair. i closed the door and did my business. Ihad half almost expected her to run off while I did so, but she was still there. I quickly washed my hands and face too, cupping my hands in the water, drinking, and spitting, considering what I just did.

"Can you lead the way to the pool area from here?" I asked. "I've never been here before and I think I got kinna lost."

She puffed up her chest making her breasts stand out stoutly against the bra and tried to appear more adult than she already was. "No problem! You follow me!" And with that, we both opened the door to check around. Apparently Miss Jarvin had gone off to bed.

We skulked in the corridors a moment longer and then entered the pool area where I saw Rosa drying off. "I was just getting ready to look for you!" she said exasperatedly. "Who's your friend?" she said and motioned to Christen.

"This is Christen, the girl you've been chatting with on the internet!"

"THIS is Christen? You are the one that gave me the key and access to here?"

Christen puffed up again, "You betcha! There's lots of things I do here that aren't exactly, umm, level." She smiled in an evil way. "Anyway! I need to go. I've got soccer practice tomorrow and a stupid trig test and - " she paused to look at the whirlpool.

"Hey! You guys got that thing working! How did you do that! Everytime I come down here it's always off."

I stepped into the warm water and squatted down to let the warmth back into me. "Not us," I said. I motioned to the control panel which clearly had a single key thrust in it. "It was already on when we got here. Wanna join?"

She looked longingly at the whirlpool but then backed away. "I can't really, I can't. I gotta go. Okay?"

But then Rosa added, "Aww, come on! It'll be fun! I doubt you'll ever get another chance to enjoy the whirlpool by yourself again."

Christen bit her lip thinking for a second. "Ok!" she said and I was a little taken aback by her sudden change of heart and, nothing daunted, holding her nose she made a running start and jumped in next to me.

It was a good thing the water was as frothy as it was, because I knew that Christen truly wasn't wearing diddly and I would've given my left arm for a pair of underwater goggles to look at the water bouncing around her short panties.

"Heyyy! This is great, really great! You know! You know we need to do this more often!" With that she went over to where the water was jetting out to look around. Then she turned to regard Rosa who was just stepping back in.

"This really does feel good." Christen said again; her voice getting quieter. "Don't mind me, I might catch a Few Z's." and with that I saw her push up against where the warm water was jetting out of.

Who was she kidding! She was getting herself a free blow job and she knew it!

Rosa looked on at her, then spoke in my ear. "So where the hell were you anyway!"

I looked back at her. "What is this? The 3rd degree?"

Rosa looked back at Christen. "No, I was just worried, OK?" Rosa looked back at me.

"Well, I went to the restroom like I said and - " and I related the entire story, even to the part of Christen cramming her butt in my face.

"She did WHAT?" Rosa said? "Oh my, oh dear. Heheh.. That's too funny. You just relax here for a minute." and Rosa went over to where Christen was having her time.

"Christen." Rosa said.

"Whaaat?" said Christen dreamily. Apparently she had never had really good sexual gratification from a whirlpool before. I was already hard and thoroughly enjoying the pleasure she was feeling.

"Christen, get up for a second."

She did and then Rosa looked at me, smiled, and whispered in Christen's ear for a sec.

"Yea, so?" Christen said suddenly.

"Well, if Nate is going to do that to you, then I think it's only fair you do it back to him, right?"

She shot up in an instant. "Hey, no way! You perverts or something? Shit, I just came in to relax, y'know?"

At this point I noticed a little control panel for the whirlpool thingie. I'm generally pretty good with buttons and found the pressure setting to 2. I cranked it up to 5 and raised the temperature a few notches. I'm not sure how warm.

The jet stream must have been strong enough to hit her because she started getting all dreamy eyes again. Her manner changed completely, it was like magic.

"It's not that ... What I mean is like ... I don't know ..." and her voice trailed off again and she sunk back against the more vigorous jet-stream as the fingers of warm water played over her crotch.

With this, I took the inflated head-rest and put it around Christen's head. She must've been getting really excited because she grabbed me and planted a kiss hard on my lips.

Damn, she was hot! In more ways than one too! I saw sweat beading on her forehead and she arched her back up as she must've reached her climax. "Ohhh..." she moaned and then got quiet again.

Digressing for a minute, one thing I have always appreciated about women is their ability to climax over and over and OVER again. Gets me very hot and excited. Certainly it did seem that Christ wasn't about to move from her spot and was going to slide into one climax after another.

Now it should be noted that neither Rosa nor me had ever had such a hot young girl in our midst before. We both wasted NO time in removing her panties and bra and setting it on the moisture-slick stone floor at the side.

I stripped down and she did the same. But, before Rosa put me in position for Christen to do her business on my backside, she took advantage of Christen's tongue which lolled out at one side and pushed her lovebox up against it. Nothing daunted, Christen reached around Rosa's ass in a lazy hug and slurped and suck on Rosa until she creamed all over Christen's beautiful face.

Christen never noticed and I took a washcloth to wipe her face. She was still sweating pretty hard but I left the temperature where it was.

"Now my turn." I said and we both stood up, and, as the steps were fairly near to where Christen sat, the water only came up to our calves there. Rosa could see I had a roaring hard-on that threatened to explode at any second and eased it into her fiery lovebox which was just now recovering from Christen's tongue-play.

I stuck my bare ass in Christen's face and puckered out my lips the same way she did for me. I was surprised to hear Christen's quiet voice above the roaring of the whirlpool.

"No really - I don't want to - I don't mean - I mean ..." her voice was drowned out again by the turbulent water and with my hands I made sure that her soft young delicate lips were pressed firmly against the lips of my own and I stroked her jet black hair lovingly as she started to lick and slurp once again.

Rosa stood up on her tippy-toes as she was a little shorter than me and between her lovebox nursing off of my winkie and Christen making passionate love to my kisshole, I creamed so hard it hurt. A splash of my creme squirted out of Rosa's lovebox and I was truly spent.

I almost collapsed on top of Christen and would've squashed her if it wasn't for Rosa grabbing me.

"You okay, lover?"

I nodded weakly.

"That good, huh? Hehehe..." She eased me over to rest on one side of the whirlpool.

"Just relax. Take it easy. I haven't really gotten off yet so I'm going to take advantage of this." I opened one eye blearily and toned down the temperature just a bit. It was a bit warm. I didn't want to get Christen sick or anything. Rosa came back up to her and Christen slurped at anything that came her way. Breasts, butt, love box, and clit.

Rosa was really enjoying kissing Christen on the lips and I was just starting to get a little jealous when she came back over to me. "It seems a shame to turn off the waterworks just as we're having fun."

Christen arched back up again for her umpteenth orgasm. She moaned so long and so deep, I thought surely she must be dying. "Is she going to be alright?" I asked, finally recovering my senses.

"Sure!" Rosa said. "Let's just leave her here. Serve her right for treating you the way she did. Hehehe..."

We both dried off and got dressed. Christen was glued to that spot in the whirlpool and undoubted be there till the morning! I can imagine the explanation dead Christen would have to give to whoever found her then!

With that that thought in my head, I kissed Rosa soundly on the lips.

We were all dressed and just getting ready to head out when I went back to where Christen was and reaching over, (getting my hand and watch wet in the process - I wear my watch on my right wrist), I turned up the pressure to 7.

Christen was visibly drooling out of her mouth now and her jet black hair looked metallic against the haze of the warm water. She was so gone in orgasms I felt another surge of interest raise up in my pants.

I went over to her, and bending over, spoke softly in her ear, "You were wonderful, Christen. Thank you." and then kissed her softly on the forehead.




The Whirlpool



She only nodded weakly and for a moment, her eyes focused on mine, but then clouded over again as another orgasm ripped through her being. I picked up her black bra and carried it home as a souvenir. I still have it to today ...



The WhirlWind



Maple leaves announced the arrival of spring. Their vivid colors made me want to run naked through the streets in celebration of summer's end. But I contained myself, barely. I watched the leaves fall rustle on the tree, threatening to all fall down at once. That would cause mass demoralization of the surrounding trees. How could they compete with such a show?

Sitting on the park bench at noon was a rather amusing novelty to me. Usually I had my lunch in the office, but I was tired of seeing the same walls and ventured out. I tried to count the sparkles that danced across the water of the fountain that I was sitting by, but I kept losing count after 19 winks.

I was sipping the last of my coffee, when the wind suddenly whirled a bunch of leaves and debris into a mini tornado that died at my feet. A torn photograph caught my eye. The wind must have unearthed the picture, hidden under the weight of the leaves.

It was a sepia toned print. The smiling WWII soldier dated the picture. Someone had lost a memory. I flipped the photo over and tried to read a faded name scribbled in pencil. But I couldn't make out all the letters.

"What have you got, Miss?" A voice from behind asked.

"Oh, you startled me," I said, clutching the photo to my breast.

A young man, barely out of his teens was peeping over my shoulder. A shock of blonde highlighted hair fell across one eye. "Sorry," he apologized, sheepishly. A sparkle caught my eye as he spoke, "I saw the whirlwind dump its crap all over you. What a bummer! Then when you picked up that picture, I noticed it zapped your attention and I had to come peep it out."

He had a pierced tongue. The silver ball flashed with every syllable. To cover my silence, he continued, "Wow, do you mind if I look at it? Isn't that a soldier? He looks ancient, like my great-grandpa."

"I think it was taken sometime during WWII. Someone probably lost it somewhere and the wind's been tossing it from here to there."

"You're new. This your first visit to the park?" He asked.

"I work in gray building a block away and decided to have lunch in the park."

"I came to skateboard, but none of my dawgs showed. Do you mind if I sit with you for a while? I'm going to give them a few more minutes before going back to my dorm. My name's Brad, by the way. I'm a freshman at the university."

"Sure, I could use some company. I'm Christy." I smiled, feeling a tingle in my panties. This guy was a hot looking piece of tenderloin. I was 15 years older than him. I crossed my legs, giving him a lot of leg to view, as my skirt rode up.

He didn't disappoint me. With my peripheral vision, I watched him examine my legs, lingering on the one thigh that was exposed.

"I noticed you have your tongue pierced."

"Uh, yeah! I want to do my eyebrow next or my dick head. Which would you suggest?" He surprised me with his boldness. I decided to remove the kid gloves, as well.

"Actually, I suggest a tongue piercing something very warm and wet."

He let out a howl of glee, "Woo hoo, you're chillin' and to the point. Damn, you just got me hard as a pipe. I'm game."

"One second, while I call the office." I hit the speed dial. "Helen, I forgot a meeting that I'm supposed to be at in 15 minutes. I'll be back at the office in an hour or so. Please reschedule my appointments for the afternoon. Thanks."

"That's tight." He said with approval.

"My apartment isn't far. Want to…cum over?" I asked, making sure my voice dripped honey when I said `cum.'

"I don't mind chillin' at your pad."

I tossed away the remains of my lunch. Not sure what to do with the photograph, I decided to put it in my purse for the time being. He followed me to the street and let me hail the taxi. As we climbed in, he copped a feel of my ass.

After giving the cabbie my apartment address, I began to make out with Brad. His pierced tongue felt strange in my mouth. I shivered thinking of it on my clit. His hands moved under my skirt, massaging my thighs. The cabbie had to clear his throat several times, before we came to our senses long enough for me to pay him and exit the cab.

We hurried up to my apartment, both of us ready to get naked. I unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it, showing him my ass clad in a thong. He pulled his t-shirt off to reveal a ripped hairless chest. My tongue planned to get lost on his washboard stomach. I unbuttoned my blouse and unhooked my bra, so he could worship my 36 C's.

I stopped him from undoing his pants. I wanted that pleasure, as I pulled him into the bedroom. On my knees, I unzipped his pants, to release his young cock. It bounced towards me when I pulled his boxer briefs down. I caught the head between my lips, letting my tongue run over it, as I pulled his pants all the way down for him to step out of. I then slid my mouth over his cock, engulfing it to his pubic bone. The hairs there tickled my nose. I held him in my mouth and began to massage him with my tongue. I held him steady as I began to pull with suction up to the head of his cock. When I reached the end, I let it pop out and hit my face for a moment, before reclaiming it. I sucked him until all the precum was gone. But I stopped when he began to hump my mouth, because I didn't want him cumming yet.

I lay back on the bed, spreading my legs apart. "Are you going to tongue pierce me?" I asked.

"Damn straight," he said. He licked up my wet slit until he found my clit. I expected the piercing stud to be cold, but it was warm from his hot breath. He rolled it around my clit and I came right away—the fastest I had ever cum with a partner. He continued to flick my clit until I came again. I expected him to stop licking me, but he didn't. He spread my legs further apart and began to tongue fuck me. I came again, screaming out his name.

He let me gain my composure, while he sucked my nipples. "Can I fuck you now?" He asked. I didn't have any condoms, so I went a different route.

"You can face fuck me." I moved until my head was hanging off the bed. He positioned his hard cock over my lips. I snaked my tongue out, flickering the head. Moaning, he rubbed it across my lips. I opened my mouth and he slipped it in.

He began to stroke in and out of my mouth. I made cooing noises and suctions sounds, as he started to really rock against my face. My tongue rubbed hard against the back of his cock as he moved in and out. It didn't take long for him to give me a face full of cum.

"Wow that was rad! I gotta jam out of here. Thanks for the hot time." He quickly dressed and left. I didn't mind. I glanced at the clock to see how much time was left before I needed to get back to the office. I smiled, happy to see I had a good 30 minutes.

I lay back on the bed, looking up at the light overhead. Smiling for the camera that was hidden in the fixture, I smiled. Tonight, my voyeur husband and I would enjoy the next 10 minutes of tape, as I dipped my fingers in Brad's cum on my face and licked them clean. I really loved lunch away from the office.



The Whisper



It was just a whisper in my mind, but I heard it.

The voice was a girl's; faint, insistent and erotic. I shook my head to clear it; I must have imagined the words—strange words. "Free me, Emerson, and you shall have me."

My name is Emerson L. Palmer. Any guesses which rock group my par­ents were big fans of at one time? Still are actually! I am a student at ______ Uni. studying history. Why? Well it seemed a good idea at the time, the time being at the start of my second year Sixth. Now in my final year at Uni. I can­not see where my History degree will take me. It will be a good degree but it doesn't give me an obvious job or career.

What do I do, apart from study history? Well I drink beer (I am at Uni. re­member), date girls, look at porn, play tennis, swim and build model railways (but not necessarily in that order or all the time).

When, or perhaps more importantly, where did I start hearing voices?

The full moon might have been an appropriate time and at the foot of an old and crumbling castle perched high on a cliff top might have been the place but in truth it was neither then nor there.

It was in broad daylight and in the centre of London. Well, not quite the centre but certainly at a pivotal location. I was on the top of the Monument, the tallest isolated stone column in the world, built to witness that on the second day of September 1666, at a distance eastward from it of 202ft, which is actual­ly the height of the column, a fire broke out in the dead of night in Pudding Lane which, as the wind was blowing, rushed devastatingly through every quarter of London with astonishing swiftness destroying most of the City—the Great Fire of London 1666. I told you I am a history student.

I had just climbed the 311 steps up to the gallery beneath the flaming urn, com­memorating the Fire, and was gazing out across the Thames holding onto the railings thinking how wide the Thames was when I heard just a whisper, the voice of a girl, faint, insistent and, yes, erotic. I turned with the word, "par­don?" on my lips but there was no one there. I was completely alone. I shook my head—had I imagined it? I circled the gallery around the pillar but there was no one there at all, I stepped into the column onto the spiral stair and looked down, right down to the entrance. There were undoubtedly people com­ing up but no one at all close to the top.

I returned to my lookout puzzled, thinking over the words I had heard, try­ing to make out if that was what I'd really heard as I resumed my survey of the river and the cityscape of London. The voice was not easy to clear from my head. Surely I must have imagined the sound and the whispered words, "free me, Emerson, and you shall have me." I was unnerved.

The sudden whiteness of the sunshine after the gloom of my descent of the spiral staircase was dramatic. I walked away from the monument, keeping in the sunshine, keeping away from streets in shadow; despite the heat of the day feeling a little cold, a little unsure, yes a little peculiar with a funny feeling on the back of my neck. But I had not gone far when all of the moment I felt colder because I was in deep shadow. I had not stepped into it but it was sud­denly there. I glanced upwards, puzzled, to see what cast the shadow and all of a moment the brilliance of the sunshine returned.

I shook my head to clear it—had I really seen that? A gaunt ivy clad tower where no tower should have been—indeed no tower was. It wasn't there—not at all—just the pavement and the roar of traffic. Was I going a bit mad, hear­ing voices and seeing things? 

The voice came again, just as before, the next day as I was crossing the road by The Tower of London—the White Tower of the Conqueror (begun 1078). Just the same as before — a whisper in my mind "free me, Emerson, and you shall have me." I stopped dead and nearly got run over. A lot of hooting of horns and embarrassment. What was this, what was this "free me, Emerson, and you shall have me?"

I mentioned I was a student of history, so it is not perhaps surprising that I bothered to look at old maps of London. Had there been a tower where I, per­haps, had thought I'd seen a tower? Had an archaeological dig found founda­tions? Was there a record of a tower? It was not good to find the answer in the affirmative, nor was it good to catch a further glimpse of the dark tower anoth­er day, a longer glimpse this time of a tower that wasn't there.

Now it did not take too much thought on my part to surmise that the voice and apparition were connected, not too much thought to decide to spend some time away from London back with my parents where such things did not hap­pen. But of course I had to go back to London, back to my studies and some­how it just did not work out that I could avoid the City around Pudding Lane.

It is not easy standing at the top of the Monument in the rain and watch­ing the three dimensional outline of a tower, a tower I could not actually see but its outline quite clearly shown by the rain simply not falling through the space. I was staring, not just looking, the rain soaking my hair, hair which whilst not standing on end was certainly creeping on my scalp. I was fright­ened; why was I seeing this—why me?

"Free me, Emerson, and you shall have me." It was clearer now, such a sweet voice, a voice that sent a tingle through me, through my groin. What did it mean? Free her (who?) from what (or who)? The latter part of the message seemed very clear in its meaning.

I must have stood for an hour, the tower getting no clearer, and the voice imparting no further information. Soaked through I descended, to the puzzled gaze of the attendant, and out into the street. I walked steadily towards the tower, you can imagine my legs shaking, and then it just wasn't there and the rain was now falling through where it had been or not been, depending on how you look at it. What was going on? But I was not sorry to see it gone—what if I had touched it? I was shivering and in need of a hot bath and pleased to go home by Tube.

Seeing the tower substantial, ivy clad and flinted was not easy. I had not expected it. The sun was out and the day quite different from the rainy day I had spent standing on the Monument looking at the rainless shape of an im­possible tower; I was walking with a friend—a friend I had hopes would be­come a very good friend indeed — she was not at all expecting me to grab a lamppost and gape at, at nothing, nothing she could see. No, she could not see a tower, what was I talking about, was it some sort of joke (not a good one)? It spoilt the day. I tried being myself, walking on with her, ignoring the appari­tion, ignoring the strangeness impinging on my world but the mood of the day was broken. It was not the success I had hoped. How could it be with a voice in my mind, "free me, Emerson, and you shall have me;" how could it be when the tower's appearance matched my researches, matched a tower demolished five hundred years before; how could it be when I had seen a figure watching me—from the very top of the tower?

I just wanted to get away, away from London again, escape this phan­tasm. You think me scared? You bet I was scared but that voice, that faint femi­nine voice, that sweet voice charged with, it seemed to me a certain eroticism, called me—a call in my mind drawing me to the tower. Could I resist? I certain­ly did, for a time, but it was not that many days before I was back within sight of the Monument. My relief at not seeing the flint tower was palpable—or should have been to anyone looking at me. It was not there, not even a faint out­line or disturbance in the clear air. Relief, I suppose, mixed with disappoint­ment, but not very much, as I was intrigued and fascinated as well as fright­ened. I turned and walked away heading to continue my studies in a library. I had not gone six paces. "Free me, Emerson, and you shall have me;" I heard as clear as day. Much, much clearer than before. Slowly I turned, people looking at me oddly as, I expect, I looked white as a sheet, an expression of dread on my face but it was now there, the dark flint tower looking as solid and substan­tial as the Monument itself or the office buildings and shops around me.

I was drawn towards it, drawn by the voice or fascination with something that could not be there. Was I mesmerised? I don't know but I walked past the people on the pavement as if in a trance until I came slowly up to the solid flint base of the tower. People were passing me, ignoring the tower. Could they not see it, not see the iron nail studded door just slightly ajar?

It was the blare of a car horn, I think, that brought me to my senses, caused me to run, run wildly in no particular direction. "Come to me, Emer­son, free me and you shall have reward." Gasping for breath I stopped, unable to run further away—the river was in my way. Fight or flight? I had chosen the latter, instinctively, but was there anything to fight? Was there danger? Too bloody right there was danger! Beyond the iron nail studded grey oak door would have been, well almost certainly would be—for towers always have them—a circular stone staircase leading upwards and did I want to ascend only to find the tower disappearing as it had done before and me falling down and down to break my bones on the hard stone pavement below? I did not like the idea of breaking bones.

Panting, I looked around for a cafe. I had to have a coffee. The words, the sweet voice, had changed. I sat nursing my coffee. I knew I must not go back, must stay well clear of the Monument and the whole area, not go back, must stay away... but I had heard another word after "Come to me, Emerson, free me and you shall have reward," and that had been a plaintive "please."

Now don't get me wrong I do not see myself as a Sir Galahad type, better make that Sir Lancelot, as Sir Galahad was rather too virginally pure to be me at all. My thoughts did not turn that way. No, I did not see myself ever as a knight in shining armour ready and willing to save the ladies or protect their virtue. My worldview was rather different but that "please," had an effect on me. I tossed and turned in bed, my mind going round and round. I would have to go back, I knew it.

It was a Saturday morning. It was all so much quieter in the City than on a weekday and I was early. I had hardly slept and had simply got up and taken the early tube. The tower was there, I could sense it before I saw it; knew it would be there and, indeed, as I turned a corner there it was. Dark, yes, but a little less foreboding with the sunlight reflecting from it and, at its top, a figure seeming to look straight at me. I stopped. Should I wave? It seemed so mun­dane, such an ordinary commonplace thing to do to a lady in an enchanted tower. 'Lady?' -- well the voice suggested that. 'Enchanted?'—well what else? How else was I to describe this strange structure, this ghostly apparition? Fair enough, a phantom tower, a ghostly tower... no perhaps my first choice was more reassuring. I waved.

"Have me, Emerson, and you shall free me."

The voice again. Clear as a bell in my head.

I may have been mad, foolhardy, perhaps under a spell (though I think not) but I walked towards the tower with a clear resolution. I was going to go in. I had to meet her.

As before the door, the iron nail studded door, was ajar. This time I did not run but touched the door — yes touched, it was solid, as solid as the floor you are on, and I pushed. I had expected the door to creak open, well wouldn't you? But there was no creak. It swung easily and I stepped inside. One moment I was in the sunlit street of twenty-first century London: the next, who knows where I was.

It did not feel that different but I was shaking, oh yes I was frightened all right; frightened as I put one foot on the stone stair. Oh yes, certainly there was a spiral stone staircase, I had not been at all wrong in my expectation. I began my ascent, my footsteps loud on the worn stone of the steps. It was little different in one way from ascending the Monument, all I had to do was put one foot in front of the other and ascend one step at a time but it felt so different and I was conscious all the time that I was out of my depth, climbing further into something that was not of my world and all on the call of a voice, faint, in­sistent and erotic. As I climbed there were thin lancet windows letting me look out on a London that was still my own - I was relieved to find I was not, as I had half suspected, climbing into a mediaeval world of an earlier time. But I was climbing, step after step I ascended and step-by-step I neared my goal of the top of the tower where I had seen her and had waved.

Can I really describe to you the sumptuousness of the chamber I found at the top, the sight that met my eyes as I reached the final steps and looked through the doorway? Can I describe the richness of the tapestries, the gleam of the gold and silver, the bright colours, the quality of the carving on the furni­ture? That it was a lady's room there was no question and nor was the sex of the person who awaited my arrival in any doubt. She stood in a dress, an em­broidered green dress of the kind you might have expected an Arthurian lady to have worn or certainly a pre-Raphaelite vision of the Arthurian court. In one hand she held some needlework, the other raised to a pendant around her neck, and above this a face of enchanting loveliness—for I was enchanted, quite rooted to the spot by her beauty. Sunlight through a window caught the burnished copper of her hair and shone from the silver clasps holding it and her eyes, her penetrating eyes were of a brilliant green. Demurely her eyes dropped from mine and she raised a hand. Was I to kiss it, a form of greeting lost to my modern world?

It was evidently so. I moved forward, bent my head, and holding her hand in mine, lowered my lips. It had occurred to me that there might be nothing to touch, that what I was seeing was not real, merely the ghost of a person long past but the hand was warm, as warm as you or me.

"Emerson." Her voice clear, real, oh certainly with an accent that I could not place but, more than likely, it was an accent long lost, an accent not heard for a long, long time, may be centuries. Even then, before I heard her story, I could not think she was of my world. Her voice was clear, real and so feminine with an erotic timbre that caused me to shiver; I had not heard the like.

"You have come, answered my call. I was not sure... I had hope."

I had questions but she put a finger to her lips and stood just looking at me as if, I like to think, it was a moment she wanted to cherish and with a look on her face that I wanted to take as one of pleasure. I was happy just to stand looking at her in turn, at her beauty, poise and ravishing copper hued hair. It seemed an age we stood looking at each other. Had she fallen in love with me from afar, was that why she had called me? That could hardly be, but I knew her voice had charmed me, enchanted me from a distance and now, on seeing her, I could think of nothing but her. Infatuation, maybe already love.

"Come," she said taking my hand, and together, she leading, we ascended another stone staircase, this time not stark and stony but relieved by hangings and pictures, out onto the roof, the crenellated top of the flint tower and stood looking over my world—modern London with all its glass, steel, concrete, noise and bustle.

"Passing strange," she said, "I understand little of this—your time."

And as we stood, hand in hand, she told me something of her story. It was a tale of fantasy, one I could scarcely credit or believe: yet I had the evidence of the flint tower, the lady herself—the fact that the tower was not really there, could not be there—for it had, so the records said, been demolished five hun­dred years before.

She had been locked away by a jilted suitor, a magician, a wizard if you like, imprisoned until she gave herself to him. His anger, his rage at rejection had been as surprising as it was terrible. How could he have thought she, a young girl, would have wanted a man like that? There had been no understand­ing, no agreement, not apparently even an approach to her father about the matter. She would not have gainsaid her father but the match was not his wish—most certainly not. Her father, fearing harm, had given her a pendant for protection, the one she wore today. But he had been unable to prevent her im­prisonment, or the tricks used to entice her into the tower and despite his skill, her chin lifted, his immense skill indeed, he could not free her.

But the suitor could not harm her as long as she had the pendant - the pre­sent from her father—for her father too was a great wizard and its magic had proved too strong for her gaoler.

I shook my head as I stared at the skyline towards Canary Wharf and the great River Thames, this tale could not be true there were no such things as wizards, could be no such thing, magic was just conjuror's tricks not real.

A stalemate. The, let us call him, the Black Wizard (though it was not a name my lady used), could not have her as his bride, could not take her by force, could not even touch her let alone have her carnally; for such became his desire. But she was imprisoned in this tower from which she could not escape; could not leave the tower. Oh yes, she had tried but the further she had climbed down the steps the slower became her progress and, try as she might, she could not reach more than halfway. She had tried throwing herself from the battlements to end all in frustration but that too was denied her. Escape was not possible that way. The Black Wizard had not ceased his advances, his desire had not abated over the long years but she would not have him, whatev­er he said, whatever he threatened, whatever he offered, whatever he pleaded.

A stalemate that carried on and on down the ages. Ages? Oh yes. Enchant­ment indeed.

She had seen the City burn from her tower, had seen it rise again the same shape as before but with strangely different stone spires, had seen it grow fur­ther than the eye could see as the smoke thickened, had looked out on seas of yellow pea soup smog, had seen the bustle of the river grow, had seen the fly­ing machines, great caterpillars of the sky dropping their fiery hate. Had seen the same death from the sky repeated from smaller machines coming in great swarms and had seen London burn again, had watched a stillness and then once more the City changing and soaring into the sky, great towers far exceed­ing her own gaol in height. She had sat in her tower of loneliness year upon year and watched. Weary, so weary but still she did not relent. The Black Wiz­ard would not achieve her.

She looked out now on a London of stone and glass, few things stayed the same. The great White Tower was still there but even that changed with the years, the centuries.

"Wear it always for it will protect you from ways of men, my father said. What did I, a young girl, know of the ways of men? What did I know at all then? I have learnt so much, have had more than an age to learn, but I have never known the ways of men." She looked at me then, just a glance, but in it was the reminder of her oft-repeated message to me, a message I would not wish to resist.

What did he, the Black Wizard, do away from his stone tower? She had no idea but could not think it was ever something worthy and good.

Yes, she slept. Sometimes she thought it might be for years at a time but she had no real measure just the changing panorama of the City. She might watch someone out there for a few days and then awake and find him, or her, gone and someone else there or the person very much older, or a building gone.

"I do not age, I do not change. Look you at my reflection in this silver. It was like that when I first came to this cursed tower." Her fine pale fingers held a plate of highly polished silver as I looked at the reflection mirroring her beau­tiful features.




The Whisper



What did he do, where did he go, what was his purposes? She did not know.

Did he know, did he suspect what she was doing? Had he any inkling and what might he have done to me if he had known? On reflection, and I have thought about it often, he cannot have known or had any fear of what might re­sult. My lady was too clever for him. Too pure for him to understand her think­ing.

What had the long years done to him? I could only guess at — can only see a deep and all pervading hate. Did he love her? Had he ever loved her or was it but animal desire? Her beauty and grace could not but arouse such desire in a man but I am sure there was more in him than that at the beginning. Did he love her still, did the fire of desire still burn or was it anger at being frustrated, an anger that had grown year on year to a single minded purpose, giving up what else he might have achieved elsewhere, in other places. Why had he too lived so long? Was it now the tower that sustained him also? Questions to which I do not know the answer.

Her name? I know it, but it would mean nothing to you for I have never found it in the history books or any historical documents and, believe me, I have searched many a dusty archive. His name? Ah, that is another matter, my friend, best you do not know that either. He is my problem: not yours.

"You will visit me again?"

"How can I free you?"

"There is a way—you will find it. I cannot tell it."

I thought, yes I thought that with all the tales of magic she was enchanted; a spell had been cast not to tell me—that it was something I had to find with­out being told. And my reward? Oh yes, the message was very clear about that and was not something I was likely to refuse. But it was not lust that caused me to try and help her, nor some mediaeval sense of right and wrong, honour and justice. No, it was love on my part. Enchantment? Well, may be; perhaps she had possessed my mind, taken some control of it, used some enchantment. The voice in my head was certainly magic but I cannot see, cannot feel that my feelings for my lady were the result of enchantment or magic. She was no sor­ceress. I saw no evidence of that.

I came to her tower day after day seeking a way to free her and, to be hon­est, to be with her. I could not get her from my head. My studies suffered. I was besotted, deeply in love. But could I find a way to free her? I lead her down the steps, I even carried her but it was no use. I could reach the bottom and the door so easily on my own but with her I could not. There was a drag, a thing difficult to describe, the further down my footsteps took me the greater the drag, the pull upwards and inevitably I would find myself climbing, not de­scending, again, carrying her back. I even suggested it might be the rings she wore, the jewellery that was enchanted and prevented her leaving. She had laughed at this, a so sweet tinkling laugh and had taken them off one by one, pulling the brooches from her dress, letting her hair fall but she would not re­move that last piece of jewellery, the pendant. There was no question of that. Her father had given her that and it was not something the black wizard could have enchanted. She was quite certain. But it was not the jewellery, its removal made no difference at all to our progress.

"Shall I remove my gown," she had asked, "as well?"

Her smile and eyes as she said it had been both amused and at the same time coy as if she was both laughing at me and at the same time nervous. Laughing at my so far futile attempts to free her, coy at the real possibility, per­haps, of untasted love, nervous of the unknown.

I did not want to break the spell, make the advance — teach her of the ways of men. It was not a reward I sought but the natural desire of a man to love a woman in the physical way as he loved her in truth. I thought the key was to free her but the key was elusive.

She seemed different that day, relaxed yet somehow girlishly excited and ready to tease. Her fingers had started to unlace the bodice, revealing more of the swell of her breasts. What was I to say, what was I to do?

"I don't know, I shouldn't think, it's unlikely to make a difference..."

She laughed, laughed at me, in the lovely way she had, as her bodice dropped open. My eyes took in the perfect roundness, the pure whiteness of her skin and the perfection of the virgin smallness of her pink nipples. I could hardly take a breath, so captivated was I by the sight. With an effort I pulled my gaze upwards to catch her eyes. And then, with just the faintest of half smiles and a slight shrug of the shoulders, they were whitely bare also as the gown slipped with just a faint rustle to the floor. I did not dare to look down, show interest in her nakedness — an interest that was screaming in my head.

"Shall we?" she said.

Carefully I lifted and carried her, one hand supporting her thigh, the other clasped around her back holding her at the side — so, so close to a breast, down the stairs, carrying this vision of loveliness. You can imagine, I suspect, my feel­ing, my thoughts, my emotions as my hands first touched her naked skin, touched the soft, so soft, flesh of her thigh, felt the hardness of her ribs be­neath the silken softness of her chest. And it was not possible to do other than look, descending, as I was, a stair, look at the smooth roundness of her hips, the flaming curls of her sex, the perfection of her breasts and the endless com­plexity of indentations, shadow play and roundness of her body; look at the way she moved as I stepped stair by stair downwards and, all the while, her eyes were watching me as if fixing me in her mind. I did not notice the slowing, the difficulty of movement, the finding ourselves ascending rather than de­scending the stair. I was absorbed in contemplation of the beauty that was my lady.

I had not expected success and the return to her chamber was not exactly a surprise—the mere divesting of clothes was not something that would over­come the spell. Carefully I set her back onto her feet, releasing my hands, turn­ing away to let her dress but instead her hands went to my own clothing and all at once the meaning was clear to me—that I too should be naked—and then she lead me to her bed. Our lovemaking was unhurried. It was tender and gen­tle. No sudden rut but the gentle discovery of each other, the joy for me of just lying in my lady's arms as we kissed was more, so much more than I had dared hope for — and I think she felt the same; the entwining of our limbs was gradual, tentative at first, unhurried — I was not going to break the spell and teach her too soon the ways of men; ultimately I did lie upon her, did rest be­tween her thighs culminating in sweet penetration. Even then there was no hurry and I led her to ecstasy as she held me, gasping with the pleasure of the moment. And I too joined her in release. Oh yes, how clearly I remember that; my eyes shutting at that first spasm and feeling my lady squeeze me so very, very tight.

Of a moment she was still, cold and then there was the feeling of dryness, the taut dryness of parchment against my skin and then an awful cracking sound as of sun bleached and aged sticks breaking and I fell a little, felt sharp sticks pricking at my skin, dropped forward onto the bed, onto hard but brittle objects pushing against my skin. Where was my beautiful lady, what was hap­pening in my moment of ecstasy, what was this out of focus object by my head? I could here the snapping, again as of twigs as I leapt wildly up — terri­fied, confused, shocked at the change. One moment total happiness, total warm happiness, shear joy at being as one with my lady and then... I could not accept or believe the change before me: gone was my beautiful lady: lying on the bed was the now broken and half scattered skeleton of the lady I had loved; the ribcage cracked and broken by my weight — for it was that I had felt snap­ping beneath me; the leg bones in disarray where I had pushed them in my haste to rise; the skull with its jaw bone now hanging loosely and the empty eye sockets gazing up at me; a few scraps of dry, dry skin and faded burnished copper hair lay here and there. The bones crumbling and becoming dust.

Her hands outstretched were but a pile of knuckly bones, her golden and intricately carved rings still clinging to those small bones or fallen away to lie amongst the wreck of her so fine hands.

The change from one moment to the next, the change—the decay - had been so quick. Five hundred or more years all in a few seconds, the inevitable held at bay for so long suddenly released. And it had been my doing! I had been the catalyst for this terrible thing—the death of the lady I loved. The cracking of bones is a sound I can never, never forget.

I stood aghast only vaguely realising what I had done, what I had been led to do. Oh yes, my lady's plan was clear, horribly clear in retrospect. She was too clever for him and, alas, for me. And in my mind I heard just the faint whis­per of her voice.

"The pendant, Emerson, it is yours—wear it for my love and your life."

There was a sound below, the sound of footsteps running, hard shod feet running up the stone steps, coming closer. With a sob and sudden naked fear I reached towards the laid out bones and grasped the pendant and pulled it to me. It was heartrending, for the first time in five centuries the pendant left my lady's neck, the pull on the chain scattering vertebrae like pebbles across the bed. As I turned to the door I lifted the chain above my head and dropped it around my own living neck. It was a close thing, I realise now, for at that mo­ment the door burst open and for the first time I saw the Black Wizard and the anger and rage on his face was frightening. With a howl he took in the scene, the ossuary of the bed and my nakedness. He knew straightway the import, that after all the years, all the ages of waiting, the endless nights of longing he was to be forever denied his wish; the spark of hope he had held burning was extinguished. The lady had defeated him and I was the means of his undoing and her escape.

His anger, yes, his rage at being denied, denied after long centuries of de­sire and waiting was terrible to see but he could not touch me, could not lift a finger against me for he could see the pendant, and I was down, out and run­ning terrified and naked into the bright sunshine away from the shadowy anachronism of his evil prison tower

"Have me, Emerson, and you shall free me." I did not hear the subtle change, or guess its awful meaning.

The terrible picture of the bones crumbling to dust, the bones of the lady I had loved.

I can imagine, I can understand his anger at centuries of waiting undone; his fury at what I had done, his desire for revenge. Yes, I can understand that. So I dare not remove the pendant from my neck, it is always with me, always there. I carry medical information in case of accident but written twice is the command that under no circumstances whatsoever may the pendant be re­moved. But what if I have an accident and a nurse who cannot possibly under­stand removes it for hygiene reasons before an operation? What if I am mugged and someone who would not care steals it? What if I become senile and... What will he do to me? Oh yes, I feel him, sense him, sometimes even see him watching me, waiting, waiting for what... or is it simply when? He is not a stranger to waiting.

Why had she picked me? How did she have this power over my mind, was able to call to me from afar? Why was it me she had called — was I the first she had called in five hundred years? Why me? Did she really love me? It is all too late to ask.



The Whisper in My Thoughts



I remember when it started. It was all innocent, and gentle. I felt the presence of what I can only explain as someone. I knew it wasn't something, but someone. I knew it was a he, for I was familiar with the strength of a man's presence. I could even smell him, a sweet musky scent, that I grew to love. Of course I never let anyone in on this, for fear that they'd find me insane! As a child he comforted me, while I cried, and all that I felt was a warmth enveloping me like a second skin. 

As I got older, his presence became stronger and stronger. At the age of eighteen had my first sexual encounter, with a guy from school. He didn't care much about me, and as soon as he was finished, he made some excuse about having to go home. My body was trembling, as I cried, alone in my bed. The moonlight streamed through my window, as I saw my glowing pale reflection, in the mirror. I cried so much, I thought my heart would cease beating. I recognized that scent, that familiar scent, although I was evidently alone in the room. 

I felt a sudden rage, that he was here, yet wouldn't show himself, as if torturing me with his vague existence. 

Yet, I moved on. . . As one should. By my twenty-second year, I was a bit wiser, although none the luckier in love! I just felt as if my true love was not in this realm of existence. Crazy. . I know! I made jokes with my friends that maybe my soulmate was a Martian, or something! I had gotten myself a nice apartment, and had a pleasant job. My best friend was a guy named Christopher. I was a bit attracted, for he was handsome, but didn't want to spoil our friendship, by reacting to my nutty hormones! Then one day Chris told me he loved me. I didn't know how to react. I mean, here was a guy that I truly trusted, and I didn't want to ruin it by getting into a relationship! Maybe I was a little too paranoid! 

I thought a lot that night, and finally drifted off to sleep. Then I was rudely awoken by the ringing of the phone. When I answered it, I heard no one. I was slightly peeved, that my good sleep was ruined by a stupid wrong number. When I turned to face the other way, on my bed, I guess I should have been startled. I should have been terrified! A man whose face was unknown to me lay there, as if he always did! His eyes were as dark as the night, his hair was chestnut and long to his shoulders. His skin was tanned, and delicious. The reason I wasn't fearful, was because I recognized his scent. It was him! I wanted to laugh, wanted to cry, I didn't know what to say! 

"You were snoring!" he laughed, almost in a whisper. 

"It's you. . . It's. . You!" I could barely say. 

He responded, by tracing the contours of my face, with his finger tips. I could barely breathe, as he kissed me. I tasted his mouth, and I felt that warmth, that incredible rush! He was naked, and soon I was too. I touched his skin, so soft, as if he had never lived a day in his life. He kissed my neck, and my breasts, as my knees trembled. 

His body was immaculate, yet I wasn't intimidated. I had never felt so at ease. He buried his head between my thighs, and devoured me madly. I felt his quick tongue movements, flicking against the rosebud of my clitoris. My hands reached out for his shoulders, as I sat up and felt the explosion of my orgasm. He kept his warm mouth there as if to soothe me, and that gave me a second orgasm! This time a calmer one, yet even more powerful. He kneeled, between my legs and smiled. I smiled back, and pulled him closer, wrapping my arms around him. 

He held me, and I felt his hardened penis, pushing slowly within me, as I eagerly thrust up my hips to welcome him. I felt a jolt through my body as he thrust it deep inside. He moved in faster and faster, until I was clinging on to my headboard, as we rocked back and forth. I felt the stickiness of his sweaty chest deliciously cling on to my breasts. I looked in his eyes, so lovingly gazing into mine. I wanted answers, I had so many questions, but I was too busy enjoying this! I felt him cum, and as he did, I tightened the walls of my vagina, which made him moan out loud. 

He lay beside me. My mind still filled with endless questions, yet all I said was "i've always loved you"

"And I. . "he replied "Have and always will. Yet, you and I are not in the same place"

"What do you mean?" I asked. 

"There will be a day when you will understand. There will be a day, when we will walk the same ground, breathe the same air. . . Until then, you mustn't dwell"

"I want you to stay, don't leave"I whimpered. 

"there is a man who will give you the greatest love on these mortal grounds. He will love you very much, and you know who he is"

"Christopher" I said. 

I tried not to fall asleep, since I knew if I did he would disappear. I relentlessly succumbed, my night had been too filled with overwhelming emotions. I was right, when morning came, he was gone, as if he had never been there. Yet the sight of my nakedness and the scent on my pillows, reminded me that it hadn't merely been a dream. I felt saddened, for the remainder of the day. It wasn't until the next day that all changed. The sun was shining triumphantly, the birds singing merrily. Then, everything made sense. I called Chris, and asked him out for lunch. I couldn't wait to see him. 

That day was the start of a beautiful life, and finally love. 

Maybe that man that appeared is my soulmate, and one day we will be together. Or maybe he only guided me toward happiness.



The Whisper Man



"So, you think you might be OK, now? A different perspective, I hope?"

"Yes, yes, thank you, . . . You know I haven't gotten your name. I feel so . . ."

"No need to, son. You can just call me Dingle. And I won't be seeing you up here again, I do hope."

"Umm. I kinda hoped that—"

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way. Of course you can come visit me whenever you have a hankering to. I meant I hoped I wouldn't see you climbing around on the cliff top again. It's mighty dangerous over there."

"No . . . no, sir, I don't think you'll see me . . . walking around there anymore."

They looked at each other, both knowing what was meant but not said.

They were standing, awkwardly, at the door to the lighthouse in the evening mist so heavy now that, although the structure stood at the edge of a precipice over the entrance to the harbor and they could hear the surf pounding on the rocks at the base below, they couldn't see the water.

Dingle watched the young man as he, mercifully, took the path leading down to the shore rather than the one that ran precariously out along the top of the cliff. Then Dingle sighed a satisfied sigh and withdrew into the base of the lighthouse, which was also his living quarters—his bedroom the next level up and then the bath and a small laundry. Two smaller floors of storage rooms rose above that in the narrowing tower, with his "operations" room at the top, capped only by a strobing light chamber bulbing out over the whole, erect structure.

You had to be in great shape to manage the stairs in a lighthouse, and Dingle was, even though he was well into his fifties. He was in great shape. Working out was his second favorite activity. There wasn't much else he could bide his time with on this isolated promontory jutting out to sea over the entrance into the harbor. It was a solitary life, and the requirements of the lighthouse weren't onerous. The harbor town, such as it was, was a good twenty miles inland, the harbor being long and narrow, and the shipping and fishing industry hereabouts not being what it used to be.

There were moments when Dingle was afraid they might close down this lighthouse. But the passage through the straits here was treacherous and there was a more modern, bustling, and heavily populated harbor city beyond here just up the coast requiring an assurance of safe passage through this patch of difficulty.

Dingle didn't know what he'd do if they closed him down. This had been his life for nearly fifteen years now.

There were no working family farms or sheepherding ranches out this way anymore. A large conglomerate had bought just about everyone out with the stated intention of putting a power plant out here and also going into cattle raising for the market down at the big city in a big way. But the downturn in the economy had put that on hold.

"Thank the gods for that," Dingle mused as he puttered around the semicircle of kitchen cabinetry that followed the curve of the wall on the first level. He hadn't had time to put the tea things away before they'd gone up the ladder. He thanked the gods for the delay in settlement around here, because it would surely put this good thing—his whole life—in peril.

It was only Dingle and this lighthouse for miles about—with the exception of the young men's military school on the shore just inside the entrance to the harbor.

An isolated, foreboding chunk of fearsome concrete, it was. Placed there to intimidate the young men sent there—of college age and great athletic program material, most of them. But recalcitrant, lazy, slow learning, or, worse, criminal young men. Some of them young men who just didn't fit—who had chosen what was not acceptable. It was an institution of last resort for most of them—shape up and meet the specifications for getting on that football team on a scholarship at Big U or shape up and take one last chance to stay out of prison or a life of unacceptance. Or else.

They weren't coddled at that school, no sir. And, being young men coming in with chips on their shoulders or fears in their hearts into a regimented institution that naturally formed its survival cliques and pecking orders, it was a stressful environment for any young man who couldn't fit the mold—or couldn't convince others he did. The only difference between the Hansen Military Academy and a prison for hardened criminals was that more of the inmates at Hansen were not hardened—in fact were quite vulnerable—young men, and that the students at Hansen had periods in which they could leave the school grounds. Of course, not many left very often, because there wasn't much of anyplace to go.

There was, though, a path leading up to the high cliffs overlooking the perilous entrance to the harbor—and there was the lighthouse.

* * * *

Young Daniel wasn't headed in any particular direction when he left the barracks. He'd just known he had to get out of there. They'd been teasing him again. Left that DVD on his nightstand so that any of the other guys who passed by—and a lot did—could see the photo on it, would know instantly what it was. And would assume he put it there—like he was advertising or something.

Why had that Jack Tangier from his neighborhood been sent here too? In truth, it was Jack who came here first—and he, Daniel, was only here because his parents had found out about the place from Jack's parents.

But for the same reason Daniel's parents had sent him here, they shouldn't have sent him where another guy from the neighborhood was sent. Jack's issue was that he and some others had stolen a car one night and gone for a joy ride. He'd been slated to start his second year down at Florida State this year, with a guaranteed spot on the basketball team. But the drunken escapade with the car had scotched all of that. Still, he was good enough on the basketball court, that all of that had been hushed up and the worst he got was a year here at Hansen to straighten himself—and his faltering grades—out.

Daniel had been sent here for another reason. And Jack Tangier had known what that reason was. And even before Daniel had arrived at Hansen, so did nearly every other young man in the school.

And they teased and harassed him mercilessly. And he couldn't take any more. The DVD and the comments and threats and demands that came after that had sent Daniel stumbling out of the barracks and away from the school grounds at dusk.

He had no idea where he was going. He only knew what he wanted to do. What he was determined to do. The only thing he thought there was left to do.

He found his feet leading him to the path that went up to the cliffs at the entrance of the harbor. He'd been up there a few times in the daylight. And it had scared him. The footing was treacherous. The slightest misstep from the path—obviously made for goats—and you'd be tumbling down onto the rocks and into the surging surf thirty feet below. The cliff-side path had been posted, of course. They didn't keep the guys from Hansen from going out there, though. And it was one of the rites of passages at the academy—to make it all the way from one end of the path to the other.

Daniel had only been there the once. It had scared the shit out of him. He hadn't made it down the path. It had been an easy way to die, he'd thought. And that thought now propelled him up the cliff—to the path leading along its top.

He had been standing there, for some time, on the edge. Crying quietly and going over all of the events of his life—all of the reasons why he'd do this, why there was no other choice. Trying to build up the courage to actually do it.

"It's becoming a cold evening. Fancy a cup of coffee, son? I know I'm ready for one."

The voice was soft, almost a whisper—coming from the edge of Daniel's vision in the misty gloom.

Now that he'd heard it, he felt like it was at least the second time he'd been addressed. It was so easy for words to be snatched away and wafted out over the sea here on an evening like this.

"What?" His response wasn't brilliant. But it was a response. He was engaging. And it drew him back a step from the edge.

"I said that I'd just put the pot on when I saw you walking up the path from down at the shore. I bet you're from Hansen's. You wouldn't have guessed, but I get a lot of the lads visiting me up here from Hansen's. I'd like to think it's the conversation. But I think it's probably the coffee and cookies. Don't get much of them down at Hansen's, I wouldn't imagine. It can be a bit too strict down there—and not understanding enough. Don't you think?"

He was rambling, certainly, and Daniel had to strain to hear him. He was still doing barely more than whispering. Daniel had to step back a few more steps to hear him, even though the whisperer was drawing closer to him.

"My name is Dingle, what's yours?" he was asking as he drew near. Daniel almost tripped on a projecting rock as he stepped closer another step—to hear the man better—and Dingle extended a hand to help keep him from falling. When Daniel had steadied himself, Dingle left his hand on Daniel's elbow.

"My name is Dingle, what's yours?" he repeated. Still the soft, reassuring, neutral whisper.

"Daniel. Thanks. I think I'd better . . . though."

"You're shivering son. How about a nice cup of coffee before you go down. Ever seen a lighthouse?"

"No. I haven't." Daniel looked up at the lighthouse, looking from here like it was rising out of a cloud at its base. From here, like this, the phallic aspect of it didn't escape him, and he moaned softly.

"Coffee and cookies? What do you say to that?"

* * * *

"So, what you're saying is that you fancy going with other boys—men? Well, if so, there's nothing wrong with that. It's just a thing of nature. The only shame is feeling the shame and letting others make you feel it."

Dingle was talking about it—his voice still not that much above a whisper—like there was nothing to it. That all Daniel had to do was recognize and accept it. This was something Daniel had never heard before. Everyone else either wanted it on the sly or wanted to lecture him about it being a sickness, a sin, a weakness that he had to "cure" or hide or run away from.

"I can't go back. They all—"

"Do you know the look of a man when he wants you, Daniel?"

"Yes. Yes, I guess I do." Daniel hadn't thought about it before—he certainly hadn't been able to talk to anyone about it. Dingle was the first one he could be open to about it. But he'd answered right out. Without thinking about it, he guessed, he did know that look.

"Go back and look around at the senior-most students there, Daniel. The biggest, most popular athletes. Pay attention to them looking at you. You are someone they would look at. Don't downgrade yourself there."

"Yes, but—"

"And when you get that look from one of them—and you will, I can guarantee it; I can give you a few names even, if you want—when one of them looks at you like that, give him what he wants. He'll protect you. You won't have trouble from any of the other guys after that."

Daniel was silent for a moment, thinking.

"And it will be freeing. It won't be just the protection you're getting from him. Trust me on that."

After a pause, Daniel looked up and spoke. "No one has talked to me about it like this—like it's just normal for some guys. Not something to fight—or to fight about. Thanks. I don't know how to thank—"

But then he looked up at Dingle and into his eyes. The look. The look was there, and Daniel knew how he could thank Dingle.

Looking at Dingle before they had climbed the ladder to the second level, leaving the half-finished coffee things where they were on the small wooden table, Daniel saw a weather-beaten, graying man more than twice his age. But seeing Dingle upstairs, unclothed, and then lying under Dingle as he deeply plowed him over the next hour, Daniel saw and felt a tower of strength and power—an experienced man with a lighthouse of a phallus who could work his body as no one else ever had in his earlier furtive couplings.

And it wasn't just the fucking. Dingle laid Daniel on his back on the small cot of a bed in the center of the circular chamber and knelt between his trembling thighs and sucked and stroked with his hand and worked Daniel's rim with his lips and tongue and teeth until, writhing under him, Daniel came in a profusion of release. No one, in all of his brief, secret fumblings, had made love to Daniel's cock and rim like this—centering on Daniel, concentrating on giving him the ultimate pleasure. Before, it had always been furtive and almost comically inexpert.

Dingle was a masterful lover.

And, oh, the fucking. After Daniel's release, Dingle rising up on his feet between Daniel's thighs, telling Daniel what he was going to do and showing him the massive staff he was going to do it with—and then doing it—slowly, drawing out every sensation of the taking. Slow slide in, slow, slow, deep, deeper. Daniel crying out, the pace quickening and Dingle moving the positions, seeking ever deeper access, ever more intimate embraces and fervent kisses. Showing Daniel ways of taking he'd never dreamed of before. Daniel ejaculating again—and then again. Dingle taking his time, no one to worry about seeing or hearing them. An hour and more of the most glorious taking Daniel had ever had.

Being shown, in the clearest way possible, how good life could be.

Still holding hands at the door, Dingle whispered—as he had done with other young men before and before that, "No need to walk on the cliffs now, Daniel? A bit different perspective on life now? Not so bleak?"

"Yes. Oh, yes, Dingle. Can I—?"

"Come back to see me? Yes, lad. Anytime you have the notion. Anytime you need reminding that it can be something special—and is worth living for." Said in a whisper. But now, fully in tune with the master, Daniel clearly heard every word, felt deeply its meaning and salvation.

* * * *

"I have a secret, Dingle," spoken in belabored tones, his back arched against Dingle's chest, a leg raised over Dingle's thigh, Dingle's hand palmed on his breasts, thumbing his nipples, while Dingle was still moving his cock deep inside his channel.

"We all have secrets, Sean," Dingle whispering in Sean's ear, teething an earlobe and enjoying the gasp at the magic his cock was playing out in Sean's channel.

"Yes, but mine is about you. I should not tell."

"Then don't."

"I didn't come up here to jump. Others haven't either. I'm sure some have, but most haven't."

"Ah."

"I came up here for your cock—your fucking. It's legendary."

"That's perhaps no secret to me—the part of why some of you come up here. My young men, ones who come back—and come back for years after Hansen. Some have confessed. But it doesn't matter, Sean. Some do come up here to jump. That is why I am still here when a young man comes struggling up the path."

All told in a soft, melodious whisper.