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kyria68

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Friends:
drumlooperVjklanderrokkyofnhWildGirl8edninja
dukedom63BCassidy69LdyCarlieWashGuyEvilEmpress
emeraldgryphonfaithbunnyKleemarButtdrumminManDragonMaster0462

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While I am looking forward to making friends on this site, I do not accept friend requests from people I don't know and with whom I have had no real conversation/message exchange online or real time. Unfortunately, this site doesn't give much in the way of options as far as orientation, so I will tell you here. I am a switch, but bottom to only one person. I am, however, truly a twisted, sadistic top who loves to listen to bottoms whimper and cry.
My favorite scenes involve sharp and pointy objects -- needles and knives. I also enjoy singletails, spanking, flogging, sensory deprivation, and a variety of other implements.
If you want to get to know me, or if you have any questions, please feel free to drop me a line. I don't bite ... unless you ask very nicely.

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12/24/2008 10:21:45 PM
Merry Christmas, everyone. 

I hope that this season finds you celebrating with the ones you love, and that you all have a wonderful holiday season filled with the joy and love that family and friends can bring.

Best wishes for a happy, healthy and prosperous 2009!  

11/30/2008 5:15:53 PM

You know… there is a little boy online here who keeps writing to me to tell me how offensive he finds my picture:

 

romance4us on 11/30/08 at 6:28 PM:

 

Ugh...another old lady trying on her 'sexy cleavage' photo.  You look like an absolute jackass...

 

 

romance4us on 11/25/08 at 12:19 PM:

 

Oh; how original.  Another fat slob showing off her middle-aged cleavage.  Ridiculous...

 

Riddle me this, as the joker would say.  If this little boy finds my picture so offensive and ridiculous, why does he keep writing to me?  I have no clue who he is and honestly, as repetitive and unoriginal as his messages are, I don’t care to waste my time getting to know him either.  I can understand why, as small minded and nasty as he acts, he's "been away for a few years."  I guess others got tired of his crap too.  Hopefully one day he’ll find his one true Domme and she can straighten him out, but I don't really see that anyone would want to be around such a pitiful excuse for a human.  Such is life. 


11/25/2008 9:23:08 AM
I just had an absolutely, wonderfully relaxing weekend with friends.  Friday night, I went to Master D's house and we went to dinner, hung out, sipped shots of Jager and just talked.  Saturday we got up and headed out to run errands.  When we got back to his place I cooked some homemade turkey chili and cornbread, and then proceeded to do some seriously relaxing ... I made a big batch of chocolate chip cookies from scratch, as well as baked a pecan pie.  Sunday he went to work and I had a lazy sleep-in morning.  When I got up, I baked two loaves of Amish friendship bread and wrapped one up for him to keep, and started packing up my stuff. 


Sunday night I went over to visit with a girlfriend.  Monday she and I visited with her Sir ... I have some lovely marks from a very sharp knife, some wonderful memories of fun and new play to keep me smiling through the week, and the knowledge that I have two very special people in my life.  ~smiling~  Definitely one extremely relaxing weekend. 

9/14/2008 5:38:48 PM

Last night at the Crucible was just awesome.  It started off with a friend of mine, a beautiful woman I met here on CollarMe, joining me for the drive to the LF&P.  We got about an hour and half in of shopping and then joined up with my "little brother" and all three of us went and met two other members of my leather family for dinner and to get ready for open play later in the evening.

 

Dinner was a disaster.  We figured we'd eat dinner at the diner in the hotel ... an hour after placing our order we still didn't have our food and there was only one other occupied table in the restaurant!  When we finally got our food, some of it was just barely warm, the rest of it was cold.  My guest had repeatedly asked that the waitstaff NOT put lemon in her iced tea because of an allergy, and they kept bringing her iced tea with lemon.  At one point, the waitress took the lemon slice out of her iced tea and told her "there, no lemon."  At that point, my friend went to the front of the restaurant and asked to speak with the manager.  She might be a submissive, but she sure as heck is NO doormat!!!!  When she got done speaking with the manager, and we all had put our comments in, the manager apologized for all the mistakes and we were not charged for dinner.  The horrible dinner and lack of service could have put a damper on our evening, but with this crew?  Nope!  We went on upstairs to get ready to have a good time and then headed for the club.

 

Between the time at the flea market and open play I saw so many friends I hadn't seen in a while.  Life has a habit of interfering with some us getting together, as does distance, so the LF&P is a great time to catch up. 

 

I had a play date set up with with F., m's Syr.  I wanted to play with needles again, and so we did.  Syr has an absolutely wicked laugh at times.. enough to make someone shiver and wonder what she'd done in begging to be pierced time and again.  At the beginning, Syr's sadistic side was showing... a needle would be slowly pulled out of it's sterile package and held so that I could see it, glistening and shining in the light... so long and oh so very sharp

 

By the fourth needle (I think it was) Syr would step back for a few seconds after asking me if I was okay with the needle just placed.. and in about 30 seconds I would start to giggle.. and then laugh.  I can only think it was the endorphins kicking in.  How many people LAUGH when having their breasts pierced repeatedly?

 

By the time Syr was done placing needles, there were 7 in each breast, and then Syr got out some very pretty ribbon and wove it around and through the needles on each breast... and then used the long left over ends to tug and oh so slightly twist the needles, first on one side and then on the other.  Endorphin city!!!  I don't know how long the scene lasted... it could have been 5 minutes.. or it could have been 30 minutes.. or it could have been an hour.. I can't tell you.  All I know is that when it was time to take out the needles, Syr really let the sadism roll (at least in my opinion)... almost dripping alcohol swabs laid across the needles so that the tips dragged alcohol through the piecings as the needles were oh so slowly pulled back out... taking them out hurt worse than the piercings.  I had a couple of spots that were small bleeders.. but the rush was so very worth it.  M came over to see how we were doing and started laughing.  She said my eyes were totally glazed and I apparently had a very silly grin on my face.  I felt fine until I stood up.. or at least tried to stand up.  Whoops!  Was that the floor??  Wow... I'm standing still and the room is doing the tango... 

 

Syr and my friend helped me over to one of the couches and got me settled with my bottle of water to sit, talk, fade in and out, talk some more and finally to become coherent enough to be able to start walking around again

 

My sexy and gorgeous friend and I left the club around 12:30 and 1:00 and giggled most of the way to a late snack/early breakfast at a Waffle House near my house.  We talked for about two hours, getting to know each other more and then headed back to my place where we sat up for a little while talking even more and then finally fell into bed around 4:30 or 5:00 and slept until close to 10:00 a.m.  

 

We got up, spent time talking about the night before as well as some of our shared vanilla interests, and then we dressed and I cooked breakfast for us, my stepdaughter and my housemate.  Looking down, the red marks, bruises and lines from the needles are a wonderful reminder of a fantastic evening.

 

All in all, this was just an indescribably fun evening, made all the more special by my friends and family.  You know who you are; thank you 'n much love to you all. 

 


7/13/2008 7:44:00 PM

I sat in the chair after dinner, relaxed and smiling as we talked.  He walked over to me and reached out, and I stilled, expecting Him to play lightly with my throat before squeezing and cutting off my air.  Instead, He stroked the side of my face delicately, fingertips feathering down to gently float along the side of my neck.  Back and forth He petted me, light touches, barely there, and I began to understand why cats purr and envy them that expression of pure pleasure.  I tilted my head to give Him easier access, and too soon, with a final stroke He stepped away saying “You see, I can be gentle too.” 

 

Yes Sir, you can. 


6/9/2008 12:26:33 PM
You know.. I just don't get it.  What IS it about so-called Dominants who have no manners to speak of?  Does the fact that you think you're a Dominant relieve you of the necessity to show common courtesy to others?  I think not!  If anything, a Dominant is comfortable in knowing who and what they are, and they don't feel the need to "flex their Dominance" and make demands of people they haven't even taken the time to know via e-mail exchange.  They don't send a first e-mail that says "Contact Me!" or "Call Me at xxxx" nor do they send a first e-mail that says "Nice tits.  I wanna fuck them."  Good lord, "gentle"men... I think I speak for a number of femsubs when I say that doing that is more likely to get you ignored completely, if not get an equally short and nasty response then get you blocked. 

Lesson #1:  If you want to actually start and continue an e-mail exchange with a submissive, with an eye to perhaps meeting her/him at some point, do NOT start off with rude or crude comments about their physical attributes, and do NOT start off by making demands.  Instead, how about you start off introducing yourself, like you would in the VANILLA world, and let the person you're contacting know that you found their profile interesting, and that you would like to get to know them a little better. 

Lesson #2:  If someone you have contacted says thank you but no thank you, NO MEANS NO.  I'm sorry, but get over it.  There may be any number of reasons that she/he just isn't interested in getting to know you.  There are LOTS of other people on this site and others who may be dying to get to know you.  And yes, you may have to spend a lot of time looking to find the right person.  Keep searching... you will eventually find the one you're looking for.  Maybe not here, but somewhere. 

12/31/2007 5:08:11 PM

She kneels seemingly in quiet contemplation, the questions still ringing in her ears. Her heart beats rapidly, thoughts flitting like frightened birds.

 

"What do you seek?" He had asked her.

"I seek to serve you," she replied.

 

"And how will you serve Me?" He asked her.

"In any way you wish," she replied, certain that this would please Him.

 

"In ANY way I wish?" He asked her.

"No matter what I would ask you to do, you would do it for Me," He questioned, "even die?"

 

And she finally stopped to think.

 

She raised her eyes to Him, confusion clouding them. "But, Sir," she asked, "why would you ask me to die for You?"

 

"You said 'in any way I wish,' girl" He responded. "There are some who would take you at your spoken word instead of listening to the words of your heart. I wish for you to think on what is, to you, true service. What can you provide to Me in your service? And don't tell me what you think I want; look into your heart and find your service and then we shall speak of this again."

 

And so she kneels, thoughts slowly quieting as she searches her heart for the meaning of her service to Him.


11/17/2007 12:32:33 PM
Okay... two and one-half months out from joining Weight Watchers and I've lost 27.1 pounds already, and have gone down almost three clothing sizes.  I had to buy a new corset at the LF&P, and purposefully bought it so that there was a nice 4-5 inch gap between the two sides when it was laced up.  Well... it's now about a 2-3 inch gap on the bottom, and almost completely closed up at the top.  Does anyone know of a consignment shop to buy nice, gently used corsets of increasingly smaller sizes??  ~happy smile~  It's amazing what a person can do when she decides it's time to take control of herself. 

10/15/2007 7:52:03 PM
Well... I was just listening to the radio the other day and heard this wonderful song... the line that has stuck with me since then is.. "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy."  Yee-haw!  Love that song...

9/30/2007 5:52:38 PM

I met a wonderfully wicked Dom at the Crucible a few weeks ago.  He's a delightfully evil man... the best kind.  He has these gloves with cat claws on the ends of the fingertips... they feel wonderful on my skin and leave me covered in goosebumps and begging for more.  Until said Dom discovered I was horribly ticklish, anyway.  He ran one claw down my ribs while I was laying on a table.  I shrieked and jerked.  He laughed and did it again.  Soon it was two claws and then three lightly strumming my ribs like a guitar fret... and I was singing the tune... shrieks of laughter, begging him to stop, gasping for breath and breaking into more laughter.  Then a knife, tracing lightly along my spine and across my back.  Goosebumps jumping up and calling out ... me next me next!  Oh my god...  Did I mention that I like knife play?  Hoods, knives, singletails, canes, sensory play ... you've got me at hello! 

Can't wait for the next time!


9/30/2007 5:43:26 PM
Well.. I'm excited.  I joined Weight Watchers on September 1st, and as of yesterday I have lost over 17 lbs.  This is FANTASTIC!  New pictures to come at 25 lbs.  :)  That is, if I can find anything that still fits!

9/1/2007 7:02:09 PM
I'm very curious.  Just what is a "true" submissive or a "true" dominant?  I always thought someone either was or was not a submissive or dominant, bottom or top, or slave or just plain vanilla.  So, in your opinion, what is a "true" anything versus something that isn't?  Does the fact that I am a switch mean that I'm not submissive? 

1/7/2007 8:43:55 PM

She kneels with her head bowed and wrists chained to her ankles; her knees are widely spread.  She listens to the sound of the singletail whips being cracked, one after another, as the practice continues.  With each crack, her skin quivers and she moans quietly, so quietly no one hears.  She feels the burn of the lash on her skin; yet no one has touched her.  She feels the welts raise, but her skin is unmarked.  Her Master comes to her and leans forward to release her wrists and help her rise.

 

As he fastens her wrists into the suspension cuffs, he smiles at her.  He touches her chin with his finger, raising her eyes to meet his.  Gently he brushes his fingertips down the side of her face, lightly teasing her nipples as he drops his hand towards the vee in her legs.  She trembles and feels her knees start to release.  Her nipples tighten and reach for his hand, their silver rings standing out.  His hand teases her more on its downward journey.  He leans forward and quietly tells her he can smell her scent, that the room is filling with it, and that everyone knows of her arousal.  She blushes, the deep rose flushing upward from her belly to her chest and then her face.  She bites her lip and then gasps as his hand slides between her labia only to find not dampness, but a liquid scorching heat.

 

Her Master is pleased with her and he kisses her forehead.  When he steps away, she looks towards him, questioning with her eyes.  Then he returns, holding a black leather bag in his hand.  When he unfolds it, she sees that it is a hood, with laces trailing down the back.  He carefully fits it over her head, smoothing it down over her cheeks and tugging it together behind her head.  She feels the tugging and pulling as he laces it shut in the bag; feels the tightness across her face as he laces more of the hood together.  Her hearing mutes, she hears so little she is almost deaf.  At first, she finds it hard to breathe; the more the hood tightens around her face the more she feels like she is being suffocated.  Her breath comes in gasps and she feels a panic starting in her stomach and coming through her chest.  Her mouth opens and she gulps air, as though to reassure herself that she can still breathe.  Her Master ties off the laces and again returns to stand in front of her.  He takes her head in his hands and kisses her deeply.  His tongue invading her mouth, a small penis fucking it.  She moans into his mouth and feels yet more moisture trickling down her inner thighs.

 

A great feeling of calm comes over her and she closes her eyes.  Her Master tells her he is proud of her, and that he knows she will make him even more so.  She takes a deep breath and ever so slightly nods her head.  He kisses her once more, and then his tongue is replaced by a leather-clad gag.  He fits it carefully into her mouth, and then fastens it to the sides of her hood.  It fills her mouth, but without choking her.      

 

Next comes the blindfold.  He snaps it first on one side and then on the other; her last vision being of his face, the calm knowing eyes and the slight smile on his face.  A silence encompasses her; her body stills as she acknowledges her submission, closed off from outer stimulation for the time.  She cannot see nor hear, and so her skin must be her eyes and ears.    

 

The echo of the whips remains in her mind; the fear yet longing for them keeping her body electrified.  A touch and she starts, but it is soft and gentle.  Someone is rubbing her skin with a fur, so soft and almost ticklish.  Up and down her back, around her ribs, across her breasts.  She moans around the gag, not hearing, only feeling.  Her body arches, trying to following and press into the fur.  She loses track of time, only feeling and reacting.  She is in her own world, there is nothing to pull her from it.    

 

She sinks deeper and deeper into her own headspace, the tantalizing feathery brushes against her skin taking her even deeper.  Then a tug on one ring and she she arches fully forward, crying out at the sensations.  More fur, and a hand, and a feather, and... she can't keep track of what or how many.  All she can do is feel.      

 

Then while the fur caresses her nipples she is pushed forward by a sudden blow.  The flogger is heavy, but does not hurt.  She writhes in her chains, wanting to go forward into the fur and yet backward into the flogger.  She is torn and her body is confused by its longings.  Again and again the flogger pushes her body forward.  She arches her back so as to push her ass back to the flogger and her breasts forward into the fur.  Then a sharp stingy pain comes across her breasts as a small thin-stranded whip is used on her breasts.  She recoils and backs into the flogger only to be pushed forward by it, back into the smaller whip. Back and forth, and then around and around the flogger and the whip alternate. She dances, twisting and turning, moaning through the gag. The sudden flow of air is her only warning of another strike.      

 

And then the flogging stops, and the fur returns. Suddenly she can hear the muted but still clear crack of a singletail whip. It must be very close for her to hear it so clearly. She tenses, awaiting the burning streak she knows must follow. She jumps and twists at the sudden strike, only it is not the whip, but a small rubbery toy. She can hear the muted laughter of the doms, her Master's laugh among them. She flushes with embarrassment and tries to still, but her hips still move ever so slightly, seeking some kind of release for her.      

 

A hand slides between her legs, moving around in her wetness, slick and hot.  A finger slides into her and her knees give way so that she hangs only from her arms.  She no longer thinks, only reacts.  The finger teases her clit, then slides back into her to fuck her.  Her hips follow it, and when the hand stills, she still moves against it, her wetness filling it.  She hears a voice, very close to her; it tells her to beg for her release.  She can beg only with her body, her voice is silenced by the gag filling her mouth; her eyes are closed by the blindfold and cannot beg for her.  She presses her hips towards the hand, only to find it suddenly gone.  Then there are hands all over her; caressing, teasing, plucking, patting her skin.  A flogger is gently run down her shoulders, and then back up and across her breasts.  A feather lightly tickles her ribs and the sensitive hollows under her arms.  She squirms and giggles, but when she tries to pull away, there are hands holding her.  A warm body presses against her from behind, and she feels a hardness pressed against the small of her back.  It rocks slowly up and down, against the crack of her ass. Hands come from behind her to grasp her breasts and squeeze and mold them; fingers flicking against her rings, then tugging them.  A hot mouth suckles against her skin, teeth lightly biting her skin, a tongue teasing it.      

 

She can't even move anymore, but allows the hands to move her about.  They bend her and lift her, tilting her so that her breasts hang, heavy and so sensitive.  Her ankles are held and spread, and a body is between them, pressing against her.  She feels the leather against her slick skin, sliding and pushing as though to press into her, and she cries out as she begins to peak.  The teasing and tormenting goes on for eternity; every time she begins to tighten and strain towards orgasm, the hands merely hold her, no longer tormenting her skin, but tormenting her body in their asexual handling.  Again and again, the hands and mouths tease her; closer and closer she comes to a final explosion, and yet it is denied her time and time over.  She is sweating now; her body shakes so that if not for the cuffs and hands she would collapse into the floor.  Fur and leather and suede and skin all touch her body.  She is nothing more than a bundle of nerve endings, feeling and pulsing.  Even the strike of a whip is a caress to her, sending her further and further into her own space.      

 

Finally, while the hands hold her, she feels herself opened up, and a heat enters her, filling her completely.  While hands continue to caress and tease her outer body, her Master torments her inner body. The gag is removed from her mouth only to be replaced with hot male flesh.  Her head is held so that her mouth and throat are filled and he moves against her. She begins to thrash as her orgasm overtakes her.  She screams and squeals in agony/ecstasy while her mouth and pussy are both filled again and again.  Then one after another, she feels herself being filled with hot liquid as her Master comes and then is followed by the others, coming on her skin.  She feels the hot splashes against her back and ass, and the liquid oozes down across her skin to drip off of her.  It is rubbed into her skin, hands again caressing her, this time to bring her down rather than to take her higher.    

 

It is a slow, caring loving massage.  Hands are replaced by warm washclothes, wiping her skin clean.  The heat fills her body and makes her limp.  Her wrists are released and arms wrap around her to lead her to a soft cushion and lay her down.  Her body is turned and lifted as the warm wet clothes are plied again and again, gently wiping all of her clean.  A faint lemony tang fills her nostrils from the scent of the soap in the water.  Her head is lifted and she faintly feels the tugging of the laces being loosened at the back of the hood.  Finally, the hood is removed and she shivers from the coolness of the air against her face.  Slowly she opens her eyes, her Master's face is directly above her.  He smiles and then leans down to kiss her deeply and passionately.  He is proud of her.

 


12/12/2006 6:48:01 PM

As I sit at the table talking with friends, I see a few of them smiling and I'm not sure why.  Then a hand grasps my hair and lifts it off my neck, and a very sexy voice says "Hello, sweetie."  That's my cue to turn scarlet.  What is it about this man?  We've never played together.  We've talked about it occasionally.  I haven't even seen him in a while, but sometimes something happens and it triggers a memory. 

He's a dom; I switch.  We both love knives.. maybe that's it.. the knives.  Cold steel sliding up warm flesh... the snick of a switchblade being opened next to my face... the thought of what he might ... would ... could... do... it makes me shiver.  The sharp slice of a blade in flesh... or is he fucking with my mind again?  He's very good at that.  Am I fantasizing as those low words fill my ear.. fill my mind with images of what could be?  I think he might be someone I might / could / would kneel before...


4/8/2006 1:40:15 AM

Silk.  The very sound of the word is slippery/sliding/sensual.  The feel of silk on skin is exquisite … it tickles at the same time that it caresses.  It is cool until it has lain against your skin, when it absorbs and reflects the heat of your body.  Combine it with the feel of thick leather cuffs, smelling strongly of leather and wrapped snugly around wrists and ankles, leaving you spread eagle on the bed, wide open to whatever your tormentor wishes to do.  Giggles fill the air as a feather is run down your ribs.  Did you forget that you were ticklish?  Let me remind you. 

Back and forth, just below your stomach; down the insides of your legs not stopping until it reaches your feet, the feather continues to torment you.  Then you feel the very tip of the feather drawn delicately between your toes.  The giggles become screams of laughter and you beg and plead for your torturer to stop.  Or do you really want me to?  I whisper softly in your ear, the warmth of my breath sending shivers run down your spine.  Then I delicately lick the shell shape of your ear, stopping to nip sharply at your ear lobe.  You moan, wriggle, and gasp.  And I smile to watch and hear you.  Now the silk that has caressed you becomes what blinds you as I wrap it around your eyes.  You can’t see … so your skin becomes your eyes. 

 

Do you see the fur that I’ve picked up?  I use only the very tips of it to tease your skin.  A touch here, a swipe there; barely touching you and bringing your nerve endings up to exquisite pitch.  Alternating with the fur are my nails … did I forget to tell you about my very sharp, needle-like, nails?  They’re made of surgical steel.  Let me show you.  You jerk and groan, certain that your tender skin has been pierced.  I laugh softly in enjoyment at your predicament.  Oh how I love to see you bound and at my mercy. 

I want to feel your skin, so I climb up over you and stretch out, raising my arms to lay alongside yours, spreading my legs to encompass yours as I rub my chest and belly against you.  Skin on skin … what can be more sensual?  I love the taste of the salt on your skin.  You’re sweating with fear/excitement/anticipation and it excites me. 

 

Slowly I pull back from you, the air seeming cold after the shared warmth.  Again, I whisper in your ear.  I have a surprise for you.  You feel the chill of metal and freeze as you hear the snick and slide of my favorite knife coming out of its sheath.  Will I?  Dare I?  Will you safeword now? 

 

I run the sharp tip from your collarbone down between your breasts to your navel.  There, I circle the indentation in your belly … it tickles but you’re afraid to laugh.  I lay the knife on your stomach and you flinch.  It’s icy cold.  

 

Again, silk and fur and feathers.  Again cold, sharp metal.  Then soft suede lightly taps against your skin, brushing back and forth, patting and teasing.  Back and forth, between textures, temperatures, and your fear.  I can smell your fear now .. a sharp scent of arousal.  Can I push you to safeword?  Do I want to push you there?  No… not yet.

 

You feel a sudden drip drip drip drip on your chest and you twitch and shiver.  Then my hands, soft and warm, rub your skin up and down, spreading the oil from your neck to your pubic area.  I make sure to pour extra oil into my palms, rubbing them together to warm it up and then spreading it over your strongly muscled thighs.  You’re finally relaxing, moaning softly in enjoyment.  After rubbing several layers of oil on your skin, I wipe my hands off on a towel.  It won’t do to have slippery hands.  Dropped candles burn.

 

Quickly I pour a stream of dark red melted wax in a line on your chest.  It’s hot and your back arches, but the wax doesn’t burn you.  The heat only seems to burn itself down into your muscles.  As you relax and let out a sigh, I pour another stream of wax on your flesh, again watching you arch and pull against the cuffs.  A gust of air explodes from between your lips, trailing into a moan/groan/sigh of despair/wish for more.  I dip an artist’s brush into melted wax and begin to paint my masterpiece, or should it be a mistresspiece?, onto your skin.  Daubing wax in a variety of colors on your skin – yellow, red, green, black, blue – soon you resemble an impressionist painting.  Layer after layer of wax is poured and painted onto you.  I stop to question you.  You respond “Green, thank you.”  And so I continue with the wax until you are covered literally from your neck to your toes.  As we negotiated, I take pictures of your body encased in wax, sealing you to the sheets beneath you.  You have so much wax on your body that even though the room seems a little chill to me, you are still warm. 

 

Time to remove the wax… our favorite toy comes back.  I slide the point of the knife between your skin and the wax, lifting the wax slightly to start loosening it.  It seems easier to score the wax with the tip of the knife so I pull the knife out from under the wax.  I press just hard enough on the top of the wax to break through and carve it into pieces that are lifted one at a time, baring your skin to the chill-feeling air.  I enjoy watching the goosebumps raising on your shining, oiled skin, but take pity and turn on an electric heater to keep you warm.  Slowly, painstakingly, I remove the wax bit by bit until all that is left are the bits and pieces that didn’t come loose.  Now the fun begins. 

 

Oh, did I mention that I’ve got a curry glove in my bag of goodies?  I found it at the local tack store.  It’s got lots of nice, hard nubbins on it.  Or I can always use the lab gloves .. you know .. the ones that have hundreds of pieces of rubber chunks embedded in them so that you won’t drop glass beakers when your gloves are wet.  Let’s use one of each.  Roughly I brush down your skin, loosening the last bits and pieces of wax.  You grunt when I have to use more pressure to remove a stubborn chunk of wax right in the crease of your thigh.  It could be worse you know.  Besides, the brisk rubdown gets your blood flowing and keeps you warmer.  Finally, as much wax as I can remove is gone and I remove the gloves and unlock the cuffs.  Little bits of loose wax stick to your skin and rattle against the sheet as they fall off of you.  You give me a loopy smile and I help you up off the bed and into the shower.  A loofah sponge is your best friend after an intense waxing, and I strip down and join you in the shower to scrub you from head to toe. 

 

Have you ever noticed how slick oiled skin is in the water?  And the soap … it’s also slippery.  Hmmm… don’t relax.  I’m thinking again.


1/23/2006 8:56:55 PM

Silence surrounding her, pressing in on her.  The only sound the steady thump of her heart.  No light passes through her blindfold; it covers half of her face, leather lined with wool to keep out even the tiniest flicker or shadow.  She feels the cool floor beneath her feet, and the pull of her muscles from her wrists cuffed above her head.  No air stirs in the room.  She is alone; or is she? 

 

She tilts her head; was that the sound of someone breathing?  A movement perhaps, leather sliding on leather?  There, again ... a slight sighing sound then the brush of cool air over her skin.  It's only the ventilation system.

 

A warm hand brushes gently across her breasts as a deep voice speaks in her ear.  Startled, she jerks and pulls away from the hand.  A sharp slap on her thigh reminds her that she is not to move unless told to do so.  Wet heat surrounds her nipple tugging gently then sharp pain as he bites down.  A muffled cry as she tries to remain quiet. 

 

The air stirs as he steps back from her.  She can feel his eyes raking her body, carefully studying the criss-cross of lines across her stomach and breasts; then he moves behind her, his fingers tracing the welts across her ass cheeks from the caning he gave her.  She winces, but doesn't pull away. Gently he caresses her; stroking her back and lifting her long hair to kiss her neck.  He reaches from behind her to cup her breasts, running his thumbs across the already hardened peaks of her nipples.  Delicately he traces his fingers down the undersides of her arms; she shudders but remains silent.  Quietly, his deep voice tells her of his pride, his hands teach her his love.  Tracing down her ribs, his hands circle around her stomach, lightly tickling and teasing her as they move down.  She moans and trembles as the heat builds again and the scent of her need perfumes the air. 

 

He steps away from her, leaving her back cold in the quiet air. Retracing his steps, he returns to stand in front of her and suddenly slides his fingers deep inside her.  Her moisture fills his hand as she cries out.  She feels his pleasure, not seeing it nor hearing it, but knowing it.  He brings her to the edge, and then stops, removing his hand and bringing his fingers to her mouth so she can taste her own essence.  Tangy and so very slick.

 

Once she has licked his fingers clean, he steps away only to return and order her to open her mouth for him.  She does so, and feels the gag he removed only hours ago.  She bows her head as he buckles it behind her, knowing that pain will soon again be hers.  The pain he gives her, the delight he takes in her agony, the oblivion that is hers at the end.

 

Soon she feels the light caress of leather; he is starting with a soft flogger.  He trails the strips of leather across her skin; dragging them over her breasts and letting them fall behind her.  He teases her pussy with them, lightly flicking it as her lips puff and open, begging for more.  Moisture shines on the ends of the flogger, her gift to him.  And then he moves away only to return with a heavier whip.  It thuds against her skin, the echoes moving through her body and soon the thuds become sparks of pain lighting her eyes behind the blindfold. Harder and faster; the lights explode behind her eyes as she whimpers and cries out from under the gag. The pain builds higher and higher, cresting until suddenly she is freed to fly. The pain is now a caress sending her higher into the sky; she feels the lash that holds her to her Master, but nothing else. She cries out her pleasure, her love for him as she soars free and unbound.

 

Like a feather, she floats and twirls, each slash of the whip only the wind that sends her further in her journey. The colors are vivid; cobalt blues, glittering golds, deep pulsing reds. They surround her, wrapping her in fire and ice, pain and pleasure.  She exalts in her freedom; winging her way higher and higher until her very being explodes from her and is scattered by the winds. And all too soon he pulls her back. 

 

Sometime during her flight, he removed her gag.  He cradles her head in his hands and kisses her deeply, taking her cries into himself.  Gently he holds her, pulling the threads that bind her to him, returning her to her body and to him.  As she sobs her thanks, he gently unbinds her body, and cradling her to him, carries her to his bed.  He removes her blindfold and kisses her eyes, licking the salt tears that trail from behind it.  As she falls asleep, held in the strong comfort of his arms, he whispers to her of his unending love for his slave.


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BitchGoddessJen
 
 Age: 21
  Arizona