The Last Drop Tavern
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Mac380
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Return to Rome
The last time he had seen her had been almost a year ago, she had been leaning against the beer pumps at the bar of "The Public House" in a back street of Rome. She had been watching him as he stepped out of the door and into the dark of a November night in the eternal city.
It had been a night to remember, for all the right reasons, good company, good drink and good music.
Gordon had found the bar, quite by chance as he ventured through the back streets of the city, trying to avoid the tourist traps and discover what really made the city tick. After his first drink that afternoon he had decided that he had to introduce Neil to the bar that evening. They were both in the city on business, Neil was still stuck in meetings but had declared his intent to make the most of their last night in the city before their flight the following day.
The counterpoint of the evening had come near the end, the crowd that had filled the rooms of the bar to enjoy to the 'open mic' night had thinned out, some heading home to bed, others heading for other pubs and clubs in the metropolis.
Gordon was returning from the toilets that were tucked away at the back of the bar when she stepped in front of him.
Gordon, thought she was out collecting glasses, but as her hand touched his chest to stop him he had realised that she had ulterior motives.
A few inches shorter than Gordon, she had looked up, locking his eyes to hers, so that he almost felt as if he was diving into their dark depths, time seemed to slow as the warmth of her hand on his chest spread through the material of his shirt.
"Hi" he said, a slight smile on his lips, not quite sure where the moment was leading.
"Ciao" she grinned back, sliding her hand up his chest and behind his neck, her other hand reached for his hip to support herself as she pulled his head down to hers.
Gordons hands moved to her hips to support her as she stood on tiptoes, their eyes still locked until their lips met.
The sweetness of the cocktail she had been sipping lingered on her soft lips, mixing with the woodiness of the Whisky that Gordon had been drinking.
Time now seemed to accelerate and the moment was over in a flash, she had dropped down, given him a cheeky wink and was off collecting glasses again.
"What's wrong with you?" Neil had asked when Gordon returned to the bar.
Gordon had felt lightheaded with euphoria, had the kiss actually happened? Was his imagination and the Whisky playing tricks on him?
"Oh, umm… nothing" he lied, but his cheeks had flushed as they always did when he was was trying to keep a secret.
Neil gave him a funny look, but left it at that.
It had seemed like only minutes before Neil had nudged him and suggested that it was time they hit the road back the hotel .
The euphoria had vanished in that moment his heart sinking as he realised that he did not know when he might return to the city, and if he would ever find out if there would be a second kiss.
So they had stepped out into the night, Gordon casting a final glance back as he went down the steps to the street, framing the image of her leaning against the pumps watching him go.
The last time he had seen her had been almost a year ago, she had been leaning against the beer pumps at the bar of "The Public House" in a back street of Rome. She had been watching him as he stepped out of the door and into the dark of a November night in the eternal city.
It had been a night to remember, for all the right reasons, good company, good drink and good music.
Gordon had found the bar, quite by chance as he ventured through the back streets of the city, trying to avoid the tourist traps and discover what really made the city tick. After his first drink that afternoon he had decided that he had to introduce Neil to the bar that evening. They were both in the city on business, Neil was still stuck in meetings but had declared his intent to make the most of their last night in the city before their flight the following day.
The counterpoint of the evening had come near the end, the crowd that had filled the rooms of the bar to enjoy to the 'open mic' night had thinned out, some heading home to bed, others heading for other pubs and clubs in the metropolis.
Gordon was returning from the toilets that were tucked away at the back of the bar when she stepped in front of him.
Gordon, thought she was out collecting glasses, but as her hand touched his chest to stop him he had realised that she had ulterior motives.
A few inches shorter than Gordon, she had looked up, locking his eyes to hers, so that he almost felt as if he was diving into their dark depths, time seemed to slow as the warmth of her hand on his chest spread through the material of his shirt.
"Hi" he said, a slight smile on his lips, not quite sure where the moment was leading.
"Ciao" she grinned back, sliding her hand up his chest and behind his neck, her other hand reached for his hip to support herself as she pulled his head down to hers.
Gordons hands moved to her hips to support her as she stood on tiptoes, their eyes still locked until their lips met.
The sweetness of the cocktail she had been sipping lingered on her soft lips, mixing with the woodiness of the Whisky that Gordon had been drinking.
Time now seemed to accelerate and the moment was over in a flash, she had dropped down, given him a cheeky wink and was off collecting glasses again.
"What's wrong with you?" Neil had asked when Gordon returned to the bar.
Gordon had felt lightheaded with euphoria, had the kiss actually happened? Was his imagination and the Whisky playing tricks on him?
"Oh, umm… nothing" he lied, but his cheeks had flushed as they always did when he was was trying to keep a secret.
Neil gave him a funny look, but left it at that.
It had seemed like only minutes before Neil had nudged him and suggested that it was time they hit the road back the hotel .
The euphoria had vanished in that moment his heart sinking as he realised that he did not know when he might return to the city, and if he would ever find out if there would be a second kiss.
So they had stepped out into the night, Gordon casting a final glance back as he went down the steps to the street, framing the image of her leaning against the pumps watching him go.
Mac380
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Professor Nesbit looked out of his office window over the main quad at Auld Reekie University, the new term had not long started and he could see some of the new students still referring to their maps trying to find their classrooms for the day. Older students were already at their classrooms or still in bed after a night out in the city, overcoming the effects of alcohol and various other substances no doubt.
The last few students who had bothered to make it on time for the mornings lectures rushed through the main gate from the bus stop, behind them trailed Ian McIness that useless Lab Technician. Professor Nesbit shook his head in frustration he didn’t know why the university kept him on, well he did, it was because his daddy, a well-connected member of the faculty staff, hadn’t been able to keep his dick in his pants and had had one of the cleaner girls over his desk some 25 years ago. Now to save embarrassment the offspring of that copulation had been given a job in the university in return for keeping his mouth shut and ensuring that the whole escapade didn’t reach the ears of St Fergus’s University or the city elders
Turning back to his desk he returned to the document he had open on his laptop, the field report from Thomas Norman was very interesting, it looked as though he had done his job well and picked out some prime candidates for this year’s intake. An invite may have to be sent “across the pond” to Thomas, for him to visit the university for one of the initiations, he had done good work; it was about time he had a taste of what his ‘research’ was providing for.
But first the candidates had to be reviewed and a programme of ‘education’ worked out, on the screen the fresh features of Lillian, one of Thomas’s candidates, looked out at him from the screen. He could almost feel the submission in that look, the innocence and the naivety; he wondered how she was coping in her first few days in the city. Edinburgh was a huge melting pot of cultures and nationalities, lots of tourists and a friendly / welcoming local community, but that was the crust, below, the city could be a cruel mistress, ready to swallow up the unsuspecting and not necessarily spit them out again!
He read on into the report from the local “researchers”: Lillian, or Lilly to her friends, had taken rooms in the old section of the campus accommodation, most first years were encouraged to stay within the university grounds in their first year, to provide a ‘safe and nurturing environment’ and the old section was one of the more “interesting” parts of the university. She had made a few new friends, but not many, as her background meant she was a little withdrawn and not adept at the social graces. She seemed to be a conscientious student, staying in on nights revising and preparing her course material, the bright lights of Edinburgh had not yet worked their magic on her, but they soon would.
The last few students who had bothered to make it on time for the mornings lectures rushed through the main gate from the bus stop, behind them trailed Ian McIness that useless Lab Technician. Professor Nesbit shook his head in frustration he didn’t know why the university kept him on, well he did, it was because his daddy, a well-connected member of the faculty staff, hadn’t been able to keep his dick in his pants and had had one of the cleaner girls over his desk some 25 years ago. Now to save embarrassment the offspring of that copulation had been given a job in the university in return for keeping his mouth shut and ensuring that the whole escapade didn’t reach the ears of St Fergus’s University or the city elders
Turning back to his desk he returned to the document he had open on his laptop, the field report from Thomas Norman was very interesting, it looked as though he had done his job well and picked out some prime candidates for this year’s intake. An invite may have to be sent “across the pond” to Thomas, for him to visit the university for one of the initiations, he had done good work; it was about time he had a taste of what his ‘research’ was providing for.
But first the candidates had to be reviewed and a programme of ‘education’ worked out, on the screen the fresh features of Lillian, one of Thomas’s candidates, looked out at him from the screen. He could almost feel the submission in that look, the innocence and the naivety; he wondered how she was coping in her first few days in the city. Edinburgh was a huge melting pot of cultures and nationalities, lots of tourists and a friendly / welcoming local community, but that was the crust, below, the city could be a cruel mistress, ready to swallow up the unsuspecting and not necessarily spit them out again!
He read on into the report from the local “researchers”: Lillian, or Lilly to her friends, had taken rooms in the old section of the campus accommodation, most first years were encouraged to stay within the university grounds in their first year, to provide a ‘safe and nurturing environment’ and the old section was one of the more “interesting” parts of the university. She had made a few new friends, but not many, as her background meant she was a little withdrawn and not adept at the social graces. She seemed to be a conscientious student, staying in on nights revising and preparing her course material, the bright lights of Edinburgh had not yet worked their magic on her, but they soon would.
Mac380
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Mac380
Naughty_Scribe
- Joined
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- Posts
- 3,609
The Scholss (III) St Andrew
You feel movement on the bed next to you as the wine bottle clinks against your glass topping up the dark red wine that you have been sipping while you have watched the show.
The figure from the chair has moved to sit on the edge of the bed slightly behind you so all that you can see out of the corner of your eye is the Kilt draped over a muscular thigh and the white shirt sleeve.
"LET ME OUT OF THIS! I want to fuck the little bitch for locking me up like this."
The whole tableau freezes.
Cecil who had been curled up on the floor trying to remove the cock cage has stood up and is advancing towards the pair on the bed.
"Hmmm it appears you hound has forgotten his training" the warm Scottish voice shows no signs of worry as it drifts over you from behind "perhaps you should show him some discipline?"
With that you hear the bottle clink as it is set down on the floor and the Kilt rise from the bed.
Cecil has reached the edge of the bed where Hannah and Aaron are trying to back away from his advance.
Cecil's head snaps backwards as his lead is grabbed pulling him away from the bed and towards a corner of the room, Cecil madly scrabbles at the collar trying to undo it, but you know he will not succeed as you hold the only key for the padlock that seals it shut.
Hannah scrambles from the bed, her tryst with Aaron forgotten as she lifts a candelabra from a table, bringing light to the corner where Cecil is being dragged towards a large St Andrews cross.
The leash is passed through the gap at the top so that he is held against the woodwork.
Rising from the bed, you stride across the room to where Cecil is still trying to struggle free, in the light of the candelabra that Hannah is holding you see that there is a table to one side of the cross with a number of implements on it. Putting your glass down, you select a riding crop and flick it through the air so that it catches Cecil on his bum as he is twisting.
A cry of pain emerges from his lips before you grab his face and hold it so that he can see straight into your eyes.
"How dare you!" you state "How dare you show me up in front of our host?"
Aaron is now by your heel waiting for your instructions.
"Secure him so that I cannot see his irksome face" you order "and be quick about it, our host has been put to enough trouble!" you glance at the figure on the other side of the cross holding the lead firmly.
A look of worry passes through Cecil's face "No mistress Please" he pleads "I.. I only did it because his bitch locked me up.."
Aaron grabs Cecil's wrist and pulls him round so that he his facing away from you, locking it in the manacles set in the woodwork, his other wrist and ankles soon follow suit so that he is stood spread-eagled against the cross.
Hannah has set the candelabra down on a table nearby and now stands behind Cecil, she reaches under him and starts stroking his scrotum "A little bitch am I?" she whispers in his ear "I'll show you BITCH."
"No..no stop it " Cecil's cock is starting to swell inside the cage, the flesh trying to find an escape from the plastic cell.
"HANNAH!" the warm Scottish accent has turned cold "get away from him. It is for our guest to deal with her ....dog."
"But please.... He called me a...."
"Here NOW!"
Hannah scurries off to where the Scotsman stands beside the chair.
"Bend over and lift your skirt!" he orders her, turning the chair so that she kneels on the seat and bends over the back. "What do you not do?"
"Beg Sir"
'SMACK'
A leather paddle is in his hand and Hannah jerks as it makes contact with her bum.
"What else?"
"I must not answer Master back."
'SMACK'
You feel movement on the bed next to you as the wine bottle clinks against your glass topping up the dark red wine that you have been sipping while you have watched the show.
The figure from the chair has moved to sit on the edge of the bed slightly behind you so all that you can see out of the corner of your eye is the Kilt draped over a muscular thigh and the white shirt sleeve.
"LET ME OUT OF THIS! I want to fuck the little bitch for locking me up like this."
The whole tableau freezes.
Cecil who had been curled up on the floor trying to remove the cock cage has stood up and is advancing towards the pair on the bed.
"Hmmm it appears you hound has forgotten his training" the warm Scottish voice shows no signs of worry as it drifts over you from behind "perhaps you should show him some discipline?"
With that you hear the bottle clink as it is set down on the floor and the Kilt rise from the bed.
Cecil has reached the edge of the bed where Hannah and Aaron are trying to back away from his advance.
Cecil's head snaps backwards as his lead is grabbed pulling him away from the bed and towards a corner of the room, Cecil madly scrabbles at the collar trying to undo it, but you know he will not succeed as you hold the only key for the padlock that seals it shut.
Hannah scrambles from the bed, her tryst with Aaron forgotten as she lifts a candelabra from a table, bringing light to the corner where Cecil is being dragged towards a large St Andrews cross.
The leash is passed through the gap at the top so that he is held against the woodwork.
Rising from the bed, you stride across the room to where Cecil is still trying to struggle free, in the light of the candelabra that Hannah is holding you see that there is a table to one side of the cross with a number of implements on it. Putting your glass down, you select a riding crop and flick it through the air so that it catches Cecil on his bum as he is twisting.
A cry of pain emerges from his lips before you grab his face and hold it so that he can see straight into your eyes.
"How dare you!" you state "How dare you show me up in front of our host?"
Aaron is now by your heel waiting for your instructions.
"Secure him so that I cannot see his irksome face" you order "and be quick about it, our host has been put to enough trouble!" you glance at the figure on the other side of the cross holding the lead firmly.
A look of worry passes through Cecil's face "No mistress Please" he pleads "I.. I only did it because his bitch locked me up.."
Aaron grabs Cecil's wrist and pulls him round so that he his facing away from you, locking it in the manacles set in the woodwork, his other wrist and ankles soon follow suit so that he is stood spread-eagled against the cross.
Hannah has set the candelabra down on a table nearby and now stands behind Cecil, she reaches under him and starts stroking his scrotum "A little bitch am I?" she whispers in his ear "I'll show you BITCH."
"No..no stop it " Cecil's cock is starting to swell inside the cage, the flesh trying to find an escape from the plastic cell.
"HANNAH!" the warm Scottish accent has turned cold "get away from him. It is for our guest to deal with her ....dog."
"But please.... He called me a...."
"Here NOW!"
Hannah scurries off to where the Scotsman stands beside the chair.
"Bend over and lift your skirt!" he orders her, turning the chair so that she kneels on the seat and bends over the back. "What do you not do?"
"Beg Sir"
'SMACK'
A leather paddle is in his hand and Hannah jerks as it makes contact with her bum.
"What else?"
"I must not answer Master back."
'SMACK'
Mac380
Naughty_Scribe
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- Mar 1, 2014
- Posts
- 3,609
The Cult: P1 Underground
Laura felt groggy and confused as she started to waken up.
She tried to open her eyes but even when she thought they were open it was only blackness in front of her.
She could feel something across her mouth, wedged in, holding her jaws slightly apart, preventing her from calling out.
Her senses started to tell her more as they returned, her hands were bound together behind her, they rested against what felt like rough stone. Through the thin material of her skirt she could feel the cold seep up from a rough floor.
In the distance she started to make out the faint rumble of traffic.
A smell of damp mustiness invaded her nostrils, the smell of dark long forgotten places.
Another sensation started to build in her, Panic.
How had she got there?
What was happening to her?
Shaking her head she tried to dislodge the gag and clear her sight.
Desperately she tried to cry out through the gag, but it only came out as a muffled half whisper.
She wriggled on her bottom trying to stand up, but found that her ankles were bound and that her waist was secured to the wall behind her.
Still she tried to scream out as tears began to well from her eyes.
"Oh God, where am I?" she thought.
It became apparent that she was not going to escape her bonds and as the realisation set in, her panic began to subside.
She started to think back through the events leading up to her wakening in this place.
She had been out with her student friends from the University celebrating another semesters worth of work. They had visited their usual haunts and had ended up in their usual favourite bar in the back streets of the city.
Even their professors and the teaching assistants had been out and had joined them for a few drinks into the small hours before someone had suggested that they go to a club.
At that point things began to get fuzzy for Laura, she remembered the professors buying them one more drink to keep out the cold on the walk to the club.
They had all been pretty giggly, or had that just been her?
No! She remembered Janine had been pretty tipsy as well and the two of them had been using each other for support as they staggered along the street.
The others had gone on ahead, but two others had stayed behind with them.
A shortcut was suggested.
Another bar, just through this old wooden door….
Laura began her struggles again as she realised that the drink had been spiked and whomever had stayed behind with them had lured her and possibly Janine into this… Trap!
"Sssh! Little one your quite safe for the moment" came a sibilant voice.
Laura almost screamed in surprise, she had thought she was alone.
"Help me! Help me please." she tried to say, but it came out as muffled moans.
"Now, now" whispered the voice "we will remove your gag when you learn to be a good girl."
"NO…NO LET ME GO" screamed Laura
Her head snapped round as a hand struck her cheek, shocking her into silence.
The heat of the slap spreading quickly across her skin.
"I did not want to do that." returned the voice "If you continue like that we will find other ways of disciplining you. Do you understand?"
"NO I don't understand!"
The slap sounded like a whip crack in the quiet of the cellar as her opposite cheek received the same attention as the first.
"Please don't make me do that again, it really is unbecoming of a girl in your position."
Laura felt groggy and confused as she started to waken up.
She tried to open her eyes but even when she thought they were open it was only blackness in front of her.
She could feel something across her mouth, wedged in, holding her jaws slightly apart, preventing her from calling out.
Her senses started to tell her more as they returned, her hands were bound together behind her, they rested against what felt like rough stone. Through the thin material of her skirt she could feel the cold seep up from a rough floor.
In the distance she started to make out the faint rumble of traffic.
A smell of damp mustiness invaded her nostrils, the smell of dark long forgotten places.
Another sensation started to build in her, Panic.
How had she got there?
What was happening to her?
Shaking her head she tried to dislodge the gag and clear her sight.
Desperately she tried to cry out through the gag, but it only came out as a muffled half whisper.
She wriggled on her bottom trying to stand up, but found that her ankles were bound and that her waist was secured to the wall behind her.
Still she tried to scream out as tears began to well from her eyes.
"Oh God, where am I?" she thought.
It became apparent that she was not going to escape her bonds and as the realisation set in, her panic began to subside.
She started to think back through the events leading up to her wakening in this place.
She had been out with her student friends from the University celebrating another semesters worth of work. They had visited their usual haunts and had ended up in their usual favourite bar in the back streets of the city.
Even their professors and the teaching assistants had been out and had joined them for a few drinks into the small hours before someone had suggested that they go to a club.
At that point things began to get fuzzy for Laura, she remembered the professors buying them one more drink to keep out the cold on the walk to the club.
They had all been pretty giggly, or had that just been her?
No! She remembered Janine had been pretty tipsy as well and the two of them had been using each other for support as they staggered along the street.
The others had gone on ahead, but two others had stayed behind with them.
A shortcut was suggested.
Another bar, just through this old wooden door….
Laura began her struggles again as she realised that the drink had been spiked and whomever had stayed behind with them had lured her and possibly Janine into this… Trap!
"Sssh! Little one your quite safe for the moment" came a sibilant voice.
Laura almost screamed in surprise, she had thought she was alone.
"Help me! Help me please." she tried to say, but it came out as muffled moans.
"Now, now" whispered the voice "we will remove your gag when you learn to be a good girl."
"NO…NO LET ME GO" screamed Laura
Her head snapped round as a hand struck her cheek, shocking her into silence.
The heat of the slap spreading quickly across her skin.
"I did not want to do that." returned the voice "If you continue like that we will find other ways of disciplining you. Do you understand?"
"NO I don't understand!"
The slap sounded like a whip crack in the quiet of the cellar as her opposite cheek received the same attention as the first.
"Please don't make me do that again, it really is unbecoming of a girl in your position."
sweetheart97
Experienced
- Joined
- May 15, 2009
- Posts
- 856
Fae Tithes
She ran, the mud squishing beneath her cold, bare feet. She lost her flip flops ages ago. She should have heeded the stories around their campfire. The ones the locals told. But nooo...she had to be a hotheaded American who would step into a circle. One she had no business in, mind you. She thought it was neat when it shimmered in the full moon's light, but when she heard a voice, Katherine got freaked out.
"The tithe will be paid." That's all. A man's voice saying that. She went back to the fire, and two locals laughed at her. One was quiet, but she dismissed it. She woke to a sound, as though someone or thing were struggling with the zipper of her tent. She put her flip flops on, her hair loose, blonde and gold mixing together. The zipper opened, and she shoved her way past whatever it was, running for her life. The tent collapsed. She thought she had screamed, but she didn't have the air to do so now. Focusing on running. Shoes left her feet, but she didn't stop.
After a shorter while than she'd like, she did stop. Panting, she put her hands on her knees. She looked behind her, no one. Maybe it had been one of the people in her camping trip, messing with her. Or her own imagination perhaps. She shivered. She was mud splattered, dressed in shorts and a tank top and now, had lost her sandals. She sighed, having caught her breath.
"You'd have caught it faster if you'd stayed upright." A male voice spoke. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She could make the outline of a man, with a bow, quiver, arrow, and dressed in a kilt, partly draped over one shoulder. Katherine took a couple steps backwards.
"Who are you?" she asked, trembling. The man sighed.
"Not from here, are ye? You see, there's circles in this land, almost like a portal. Ye step in one, well, if you are very, very lucky, ye'll be ignored. But, when someone who has something special, like golden hair..." He was suddenly a foot from her, and she backed up again, feeling a tree against her back. He had pointed ears, long hair, which looked dark in the light. "...Especially during a full moon, well, there's things that become..." He leaned beside her ear. "...curious." He could hear her heart pounding. She tried to side step him, but he moved even faster, putting a hand on her sternum. He sniffed her neck, then nuzzled her neck. "Gods, you smell delicious and you're so soft."
Katherine pushed at his muscular chest, trying to step on his feet, anything. She could only squirm.
"I didn't know! I thought it was just a silly story, please, please let me go, please," she begged. His eyebrows raised, and he chuckled.
"Hmmm, no. Can't do that, I'm afraid. There's a tithe that you must pay. So, before you try to kick me again, maybe you want to listen to what that means, hmm?" She glared at him. He sighed. "Don't say I didn' warn ye." His hand moved to the base of her neck, gripping her hair. She panted and struggled. He didn't worry about her arms pushing, flailing, as he lowered his lips to her neck.
A flush of warmth flooded Katherine. She gasped, feeling her knees go a little weak. He kept kissing, gods, what he was doing felt good. She stopped fighting him, embarrassed at how wet she was. When he pulled away, she made a little sound of protest. He chuckled.
"What did you do to me?" she asked. He stroked her hair, continuing the glamour.
"Not to fret. Just calmed ye down a bit. For my own shin's sake." He grinned. "Ye liked it." She shook her head. "Oh no? Hmm, then this won't do a thing, will it now?" He leaned into the other side, kissing, nipping as his hand slid up beneath her shirt, palming her breasts, one than the other. She felt her body writhe, and she whimpered, closing her eyes. His hand slid towards the waistband of her shorts.
"Ok! Ok! You're right, I liked it." He laughed, pulling his hand away.
"So, as I was saying, you owe a tithe. You are bound to me until I release you, which won't be very soon. You're not in your world any longer. So don't run from me. I'm not always so forgiving," he said, kissing her neck. "Just one little thing before we go back to my home."
He kissed her passionately, gently putting her hands behind her back, a hip pressing her against the tree. He kissed down her neck, then his hand slid into her shorts, over her panties at first. She was so wet, and he slid his hand into her panties, a thick finger sliding up and down her slit. She panted, only not fighting because of the glamour. Fuck, it felt good. His finger slid inside her, and he pumped it in and out of her, adding a second. She panted, moaning as he fucked her. He grinned. "So I can get noises out of you. Hmmm...oh sweetling, I can see your blush. Never been taken like this, hmm? Or have you simply not had a lover whisper in your ear?" He leaned in, fingers moving faster. "You're only getting to keep those clothes on until we reach home. Because otherwise, I will pin you down and fuck you right here, and...oh...yes...you like that." Katherine came on his fingers, writhing, embarrassed. He kept going, her eyes wide as she whimpered, unable to speak. "I think you like that idea. Not tonight, pet. Yup...my pet, oh, I guess you like that too. My little kitten." He stroked her faster, groaning in her ear as she came, his thumb on her clit.
She panted as he pulled out his hand and licked his fingers. "Good girl," he said.
She ran, the mud squishing beneath her cold, bare feet. She lost her flip flops ages ago. She should have heeded the stories around their campfire. The ones the locals told. But nooo...she had to be a hotheaded American who would step into a circle. One she had no business in, mind you. She thought it was neat when it shimmered in the full moon's light, but when she heard a voice, Katherine got freaked out.
"The tithe will be paid." That's all. A man's voice saying that. She went back to the fire, and two locals laughed at her. One was quiet, but she dismissed it. She woke to a sound, as though someone or thing were struggling with the zipper of her tent. She put her flip flops on, her hair loose, blonde and gold mixing together. The zipper opened, and she shoved her way past whatever it was, running for her life. The tent collapsed. She thought she had screamed, but she didn't have the air to do so now. Focusing on running. Shoes left her feet, but she didn't stop.
After a shorter while than she'd like, she did stop. Panting, she put her hands on her knees. She looked behind her, no one. Maybe it had been one of the people in her camping trip, messing with her. Or her own imagination perhaps. She shivered. She was mud splattered, dressed in shorts and a tank top and now, had lost her sandals. She sighed, having caught her breath.
"You'd have caught it faster if you'd stayed upright." A male voice spoke. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She could make the outline of a man, with a bow, quiver, arrow, and dressed in a kilt, partly draped over one shoulder. Katherine took a couple steps backwards.
"Who are you?" she asked, trembling. The man sighed.
"Not from here, are ye? You see, there's circles in this land, almost like a portal. Ye step in one, well, if you are very, very lucky, ye'll be ignored. But, when someone who has something special, like golden hair..." He was suddenly a foot from her, and she backed up again, feeling a tree against her back. He had pointed ears, long hair, which looked dark in the light. "...Especially during a full moon, well, there's things that become..." He leaned beside her ear. "...curious." He could hear her heart pounding. She tried to side step him, but he moved even faster, putting a hand on her sternum. He sniffed her neck, then nuzzled her neck. "Gods, you smell delicious and you're so soft."
Katherine pushed at his muscular chest, trying to step on his feet, anything. She could only squirm.
"I didn't know! I thought it was just a silly story, please, please let me go, please," she begged. His eyebrows raised, and he chuckled.
"Hmmm, no. Can't do that, I'm afraid. There's a tithe that you must pay. So, before you try to kick me again, maybe you want to listen to what that means, hmm?" She glared at him. He sighed. "Don't say I didn' warn ye." His hand moved to the base of her neck, gripping her hair. She panted and struggled. He didn't worry about her arms pushing, flailing, as he lowered his lips to her neck.
A flush of warmth flooded Katherine. She gasped, feeling her knees go a little weak. He kept kissing, gods, what he was doing felt good. She stopped fighting him, embarrassed at how wet she was. When he pulled away, she made a little sound of protest. He chuckled.
"What did you do to me?" she asked. He stroked her hair, continuing the glamour.
"Not to fret. Just calmed ye down a bit. For my own shin's sake." He grinned. "Ye liked it." She shook her head. "Oh no? Hmm, then this won't do a thing, will it now?" He leaned into the other side, kissing, nipping as his hand slid up beneath her shirt, palming her breasts, one than the other. She felt her body writhe, and she whimpered, closing her eyes. His hand slid towards the waistband of her shorts.
"Ok! Ok! You're right, I liked it." He laughed, pulling his hand away.
"So, as I was saying, you owe a tithe. You are bound to me until I release you, which won't be very soon. You're not in your world any longer. So don't run from me. I'm not always so forgiving," he said, kissing her neck. "Just one little thing before we go back to my home."
He kissed her passionately, gently putting her hands behind her back, a hip pressing her against the tree. He kissed down her neck, then his hand slid into her shorts, over her panties at first. She was so wet, and he slid his hand into her panties, a thick finger sliding up and down her slit. She panted, only not fighting because of the glamour. Fuck, it felt good. His finger slid inside her, and he pumped it in and out of her, adding a second. She panted, moaning as he fucked her. He grinned. "So I can get noises out of you. Hmmm...oh sweetling, I can see your blush. Never been taken like this, hmm? Or have you simply not had a lover whisper in your ear?" He leaned in, fingers moving faster. "You're only getting to keep those clothes on until we reach home. Because otherwise, I will pin you down and fuck you right here, and...oh...yes...you like that." Katherine came on his fingers, writhing, embarrassed. He kept going, her eyes wide as she whimpered, unable to speak. "I think you like that idea. Not tonight, pet. Yup...my pet, oh, I guess you like that too. My little kitten." He stroked her faster, groaning in her ear as she came, his thumb on her clit.
She panted as he pulled out his hand and licked his fingers. "Good girl," he said.
Mac380
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The Cult: P2 Underground
Reeling from the physical contact of the slap Laura tried to make sense of what was happening.
How could the voice remain so calm while extending such physical duress, if it could remain that calm what would it be like if it got angry?
She had the feeling that she did not want to find out.
She lowered her head "I understand" she said quietly.
"There, you see" said the voice "I can understand you when you remain calm and quiet, none of this screaming and we will get along fine."
Laura felt a hand brush against the back of her head and she flinched away expecting another slap.
"Shhh, you have done nothing wrong, I am going to let you have a drink and need to take your gag out."
The hand returned to the back of her head and Laura could feel the gag being released, she realised that she was actually quite thirsty, with all the other thoughts in her head that realisation had been pushed to the back of her mind.
A straw was placed against her lips, a quick suck told her that it was water, or at least it tasted like water, she sucked down the liquid trying to slake her thirst.
The last of the water rattled in the bottom of the bottle as she sucked it dry and the straw was removed from her mouth.
She started to ask a question but was cut off as the gag was slid back into her mouth "No questions… yet" came the voice "I will be back later with some food, maybe then we will let you ask your questions."
LATER… Laura began to panic "NO..no please don't leave me" she tried to gasp past the gag" shaking her head against the restriction.
SLAP!
"I thought you were learning!" the voice sounded annoyed "Maybe we should just leave you here."
A rustle of material told Laura that her captor had stood up and was moving away from her.. "Please.." she tried to whisper past the gag, but her only answer was a muffled thump of what could have been a door followed by the grating of a lock turning.
Footsteps faded away and the quiet emptiness of the room started to close in on her, tears began to well behind her eyes as she imagined that her captor may never return, leaving her to starve and her body to moulder lost for decades under the city streets.
Laura tried fighting against her bonds again, the chain around her waist allowed her some movement, enough to get her legs under her and to move a few feet to each side.
One her right she felt a soft sponge like material a couple of inches thick, realising that it was a mattress she shuffled onto it, getting off the cold floor and lying on her side she curled into a ball to keep warm.
The effects of the panic and stress caught up with her and it was not long before she fell asleep the faint rumble of traffic her only companion.
Reeling from the physical contact of the slap Laura tried to make sense of what was happening.
How could the voice remain so calm while extending such physical duress, if it could remain that calm what would it be like if it got angry?
She had the feeling that she did not want to find out.
She lowered her head "I understand" she said quietly.
"There, you see" said the voice "I can understand you when you remain calm and quiet, none of this screaming and we will get along fine."
Laura felt a hand brush against the back of her head and she flinched away expecting another slap.
"Shhh, you have done nothing wrong, I am going to let you have a drink and need to take your gag out."
The hand returned to the back of her head and Laura could feel the gag being released, she realised that she was actually quite thirsty, with all the other thoughts in her head that realisation had been pushed to the back of her mind.
A straw was placed against her lips, a quick suck told her that it was water, or at least it tasted like water, she sucked down the liquid trying to slake her thirst.
The last of the water rattled in the bottom of the bottle as she sucked it dry and the straw was removed from her mouth.
She started to ask a question but was cut off as the gag was slid back into her mouth "No questions… yet" came the voice "I will be back later with some food, maybe then we will let you ask your questions."
LATER… Laura began to panic "NO..no please don't leave me" she tried to gasp past the gag" shaking her head against the restriction.
SLAP!
"I thought you were learning!" the voice sounded annoyed "Maybe we should just leave you here."
A rustle of material told Laura that her captor had stood up and was moving away from her.. "Please.." she tried to whisper past the gag, but her only answer was a muffled thump of what could have been a door followed by the grating of a lock turning.
Footsteps faded away and the quiet emptiness of the room started to close in on her, tears began to well behind her eyes as she imagined that her captor may never return, leaving her to starve and her body to moulder lost for decades under the city streets.
Laura tried fighting against her bonds again, the chain around her waist allowed her some movement, enough to get her legs under her and to move a few feet to each side.
One her right she felt a soft sponge like material a couple of inches thick, realising that it was a mattress she shuffled onto it, getting off the cold floor and lying on her side she curled into a ball to keep warm.
The effects of the panic and stress caught up with her and it was not long before she fell asleep the faint rumble of traffic her only companion.
Mac380
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Joyful Mediocrity
It is a Friday morning at the beginning of September and we are still under the cloud of Covid, I sit at my office desk wondering how long it will be before things return to normal, or at least the not so normal that I/we enjoy.
My job is part draughtsman so I spend some time with a pair of headphones on listening to music while concentrating on my latest diagram, today I have the soundtrack to Lost Empire playing. Lost Empire was a themed club night held in Hamburg the year before, centred around a dystopian future of decaying humanity and corrupt governments with a suitable amount of perversity thrown in to keep things interesting. I had my tickets and the plans in place but it all fell through at the last minute, how I kicked myself for missing what was probably a fantastic night.
So as I contemplate what I missed I watch my office colleagues arriving with their standard greetings and patterns, always the same phrases with a smile on their faces as if they are so glad to arrive and see each other, that their lives exist only to sit at their desks and work for 'the Man'.
I have dubbed it "Joyful Mediocrity", happy the be the grey man or woman, not to offend or delight the senses of society with the possibility of being 'noticed' for being slightly different or free thinking.
Then I look at myself, sat here fuelling that very mediocrity that I have begun to despise over the last few months of not being able to escape to that alternative reality, where events like Lost Empire and Luxuria Party allow us to express ourselves, igniting the senses of others and letting our imaginations out to play.
So to all of you out there in your workplaces or homes existing in your own version of Joyful Mediocrity, I say "Hang In There".
Your imagination WILL be able to run wild again and be appreciated by likeminded souls, our smiles of joy may be obscured by masks, but our eyes will be alive with the excitement and our actions should convey our pleasure at once again being able to express ourselves without judgement.
It is a Friday morning at the beginning of September and we are still under the cloud of Covid, I sit at my office desk wondering how long it will be before things return to normal, or at least the not so normal that I/we enjoy.
My job is part draughtsman so I spend some time with a pair of headphones on listening to music while concentrating on my latest diagram, today I have the soundtrack to Lost Empire playing. Lost Empire was a themed club night held in Hamburg the year before, centred around a dystopian future of decaying humanity and corrupt governments with a suitable amount of perversity thrown in to keep things interesting. I had my tickets and the plans in place but it all fell through at the last minute, how I kicked myself for missing what was probably a fantastic night.
So as I contemplate what I missed I watch my office colleagues arriving with their standard greetings and patterns, always the same phrases with a smile on their faces as if they are so glad to arrive and see each other, that their lives exist only to sit at their desks and work for 'the Man'.
I have dubbed it "Joyful Mediocrity", happy the be the grey man or woman, not to offend or delight the senses of society with the possibility of being 'noticed' for being slightly different or free thinking.
Then I look at myself, sat here fuelling that very mediocrity that I have begun to despise over the last few months of not being able to escape to that alternative reality, where events like Lost Empire and Luxuria Party allow us to express ourselves, igniting the senses of others and letting our imaginations out to play.
So to all of you out there in your workplaces or homes existing in your own version of Joyful Mediocrity, I say "Hang In There".
Your imagination WILL be able to run wild again and be appreciated by likeminded souls, our smiles of joy may be obscured by masks, but our eyes will be alive with the excitement and our actions should convey our pleasure at once again being able to express ourselves without judgement.
Mac380
Naughty_Scribe
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The phone call
The connection clicked in as Quinn pressed the accept call button expecting to hear yet another set of excuses and platitudes as to why he could not make it.
“Hi Sweetie are you ready for your hot date?” asked the excited voice of a woman.
Quinn pulled her phone away from her ear and stared at the called ID, it was Sam! Her mind shot back to a party two weeks earlier in an apartment uptown, lots of suits just out of the office downing Bourbon like it was going out of fashion and a pair of hot black shiny PVC pants.
Sam had been holding court by the bar and when the group had parted to give Quinn a better view she could see Sam was shamelessly wearing a micro mesh top and staring right at her a smile curling at the edge of her lips. In a few strides Sam had taken Quinn by the arm and was talking as if they had been lifelong friends. Quinn had enjoyed the attention, not just from Sam but from the various suitors hoping to gain Sam’s attention. It had not taken long for them to exchange the usual social media details and a promise to keep each other ‘up to date’ with news and gossip.
Putting the phone back to her ear Quinn replied “He stood me up Sam, last minute phone call with some lame excuse as to why he can’t make it.”
“That lame dicked dweeb, he doesn’t deserve you. Now don’t you wish you had given Jerry a chance? He was definitely NOT lame dicked I can tell you.” She laughed breathlessly.
Quinn remembered Jerry, he and Sam had ended up dancing together at the party, Sam had made a point of rubbing her bum in his crotch as they gyrated together. There had been no mistaking the size of Jerry’s cock when she had stepped away from him not long before the two had disappeared together.
“Yeah well you made the most of that opportunity” she chuckled remembering the dirty glint in Sam’s eyes when she had returned, “so I’m going out on my own to drown my sorrows and forget about that ‘Dweeb’ for the night.”
“Well if you want some company, just say sweetie, you know we can have a great giggle together.”
The connection clicked in as Quinn pressed the accept call button expecting to hear yet another set of excuses and platitudes as to why he could not make it.
“Hi Sweetie are you ready for your hot date?” asked the excited voice of a woman.
Quinn pulled her phone away from her ear and stared at the called ID, it was Sam! Her mind shot back to a party two weeks earlier in an apartment uptown, lots of suits just out of the office downing Bourbon like it was going out of fashion and a pair of hot black shiny PVC pants.
Sam had been holding court by the bar and when the group had parted to give Quinn a better view she could see Sam was shamelessly wearing a micro mesh top and staring right at her a smile curling at the edge of her lips. In a few strides Sam had taken Quinn by the arm and was talking as if they had been lifelong friends. Quinn had enjoyed the attention, not just from Sam but from the various suitors hoping to gain Sam’s attention. It had not taken long for them to exchange the usual social media details and a promise to keep each other ‘up to date’ with news and gossip.
Putting the phone back to her ear Quinn replied “He stood me up Sam, last minute phone call with some lame excuse as to why he can’t make it.”
“That lame dicked dweeb, he doesn’t deserve you. Now don’t you wish you had given Jerry a chance? He was definitely NOT lame dicked I can tell you.” She laughed breathlessly.
Quinn remembered Jerry, he and Sam had ended up dancing together at the party, Sam had made a point of rubbing her bum in his crotch as they gyrated together. There had been no mistaking the size of Jerry’s cock when she had stepped away from him not long before the two had disappeared together.
“Yeah well you made the most of that opportunity” she chuckled remembering the dirty glint in Sam’s eyes when she had returned, “so I’m going out on my own to drown my sorrows and forget about that ‘Dweeb’ for the night.”
“Well if you want some company, just say sweetie, you know we can have a great giggle together.”
Mac380
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Hehe, you want to pull back the curtain a little bit and peak inside?
To catch all the freaks and deviants at play?
But are you ready to hear and see such things?
Questioned the voice in her head it's sound caressing across her senses.
Tell me what would your mask be like as you peek around that curtain?
'Hmmm,' she slipped the leash slightly on her imagination, giving it the chance to taste her deeper desires, 'a simple black velvet mask, a black velvet choker, a black sexy bodysuit, not yet too revealing.'
SHOW me, what's behind the curtain!
You feel the heavy velvet material of the curtain slide along your bodysuit as you push through the gap into the dark, a tingle of excitement or is it slight fear runs down your spine?
In the darkness ahead you discern figures, moving, flickering, in sparks of light, the rumble of music reaches up through your boots as your body starts to sway in time with the beat.
Stepping towards the light the figures become clearer, smoke drifts around them, swirling as they gyrate to the music.
A hand slips into yours, leading you into the room.
Around you guests are dressed in every conceivable outfit from the near naked to the fully encased in rubber. Blacks, Reds and Whites mix to create sensational designs, leather straps hold material in place, chains drape across nipples, latex molds to to every curve like a second skin.
The aroma of perfume, aftershave and passion fills the room enticing you to step further into the clutches of the dark side.
To catch all the freaks and deviants at play?
But are you ready to hear and see such things?
Questioned the voice in her head it's sound caressing across her senses.
Tell me what would your mask be like as you peek around that curtain?
'Hmmm,' she slipped the leash slightly on her imagination, giving it the chance to taste her deeper desires, 'a simple black velvet mask, a black velvet choker, a black sexy bodysuit, not yet too revealing.'
SHOW me, what's behind the curtain!
You feel the heavy velvet material of the curtain slide along your bodysuit as you push through the gap into the dark, a tingle of excitement or is it slight fear runs down your spine?
In the darkness ahead you discern figures, moving, flickering, in sparks of light, the rumble of music reaches up through your boots as your body starts to sway in time with the beat.
Stepping towards the light the figures become clearer, smoke drifts around them, swirling as they gyrate to the music.
A hand slips into yours, leading you into the room.
Around you guests are dressed in every conceivable outfit from the near naked to the fully encased in rubber. Blacks, Reds and Whites mix to create sensational designs, leather straps hold material in place, chains drape across nipples, latex molds to to every curve like a second skin.
The aroma of perfume, aftershave and passion fills the room enticing you to step further into the clutches of the dark side.
Mac380
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The figure next to you lifts your hand and gently leads you to the bar. A seat is offered as you take your position a drink materialises by your hand.
You look for the figure that led you in, but it is the only one in the room that you cannot fully make out, it appears to be changing with every strobe of the lights, waiting to become formed, whole and animated.
The voice whispers to you, "What will it be, what will you choose, what do you.... Desire..." the final syllable strokes down your spine sending a shiver through you.
As she tries to turn and see, who spoke, he gently turns her away again, so she still cannot fully discern him. Yet, she presses herself gently, yet willingly back against him to feel his lustful body behind her. He responds in turn and she can feel his excitement on her lower spine. While gently rhythmically swaying to and fro to the music, he lets his hand wander between her legs only to discover a subtle opening...
"Is this what you want ?" whispers the voice "to be a lustful slut, controlled by another's hand, teasing until you get what you want?"
"LOOK!" commands the voice shocking her as the chain attached to your collar is yanked to face your towards the centre of the room.
Out of the shadows steps a woman wearing a short leather skirt and bra, from the collar around her neck hangs a chain.
She starts to dance, gyrating her body making sensuous gestures, flicking up the hem of the skirt of to reveal glimpses of naked flesh. She teases herself without caring who is watching, only sending the occasional glance towards one corner of the room as if to ensure one particular individual is still there.
The smoke clears on the opposite side of the dance floor and a muscular male steps onto the floor, his chest is bare all but for a harness, he wears a pair of skin tight black trousers, already there is a bulge in his crotch.
The woman turns towards him and licks her lips as her eyes fall upon his crotch.
She glances to the corner again before moving towards the male, playing with her breasts as she approaches him. She starts to dance in front of him, getting closer so that she is rubbing up against him, her hands drift over his naked torso and down to stroke the expanding bulge in his trousers.
Taking two of her fingers she strokes her sex gathering the juices that are welling up before placing them in his mouth.
Her head jerks backwards as the chain on her collar goes tight.
"NO SLUT" commands the voice of another figure that appears from the corner that she had been watching.
A large hand smacks against the bare flesh of her buttocks "I have told you before to ask permission before sharing your juices."
She turns to her Master "But he has such.."
The large hand grasps the back of her hair pulling her head back "I have rules for a reason! Now what must you do?"
A look of mischief flits across her eyes "make Mast...make you BOTH Happy?"
The scene fades into the smoke as the woman starts to gyrate between both men, her bra being pulled off as she sinks to her knees...
You look for the figure that led you in, but it is the only one in the room that you cannot fully make out, it appears to be changing with every strobe of the lights, waiting to become formed, whole and animated.
The voice whispers to you, "What will it be, what will you choose, what do you.... Desire..." the final syllable strokes down your spine sending a shiver through you.
As she tries to turn and see, who spoke, he gently turns her away again, so she still cannot fully discern him. Yet, she presses herself gently, yet willingly back against him to feel his lustful body behind her. He responds in turn and she can feel his excitement on her lower spine. While gently rhythmically swaying to and fro to the music, he lets his hand wander between her legs only to discover a subtle opening...
"Is this what you want ?" whispers the voice "to be a lustful slut, controlled by another's hand, teasing until you get what you want?"
"LOOK!" commands the voice shocking her as the chain attached to your collar is yanked to face your towards the centre of the room.
Out of the shadows steps a woman wearing a short leather skirt and bra, from the collar around her neck hangs a chain.
She starts to dance, gyrating her body making sensuous gestures, flicking up the hem of the skirt of to reveal glimpses of naked flesh. She teases herself without caring who is watching, only sending the occasional glance towards one corner of the room as if to ensure one particular individual is still there.
The smoke clears on the opposite side of the dance floor and a muscular male steps onto the floor, his chest is bare all but for a harness, he wears a pair of skin tight black trousers, already there is a bulge in his crotch.
The woman turns towards him and licks her lips as her eyes fall upon his crotch.
She glances to the corner again before moving towards the male, playing with her breasts as she approaches him. She starts to dance in front of him, getting closer so that she is rubbing up against him, her hands drift over his naked torso and down to stroke the expanding bulge in his trousers.
Taking two of her fingers she strokes her sex gathering the juices that are welling up before placing them in his mouth.
Her head jerks backwards as the chain on her collar goes tight.
"NO SLUT" commands the voice of another figure that appears from the corner that she had been watching.
A large hand smacks against the bare flesh of her buttocks "I have told you before to ask permission before sharing your juices."
She turns to her Master "But he has such.."
The large hand grasps the back of her hair pulling her head back "I have rules for a reason! Now what must you do?"
A look of mischief flits across her eyes "make Mast...make you BOTH Happy?"
The scene fades into the smoke as the woman starts to gyrate between both men, her bra being pulled off as she sinks to her knees...
Mac380
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Mac380
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Wiping a cobweb out of his hair Fergus the barman peered into the gloom of the bar, motes of dust flickered through shafts of light that stabbed through the gaps in the shutters.
It seemed like an eon ago that the last customers had deserted the tavern with the threat of a plague sweeping through the country.
Now here stood a stunning young lady her hair lit by a shaft of light making her look like the sunrise of a new era, perhaps this was a new beginning for the Last Drop Tavern?
Standing up and shaking off the grime of the last few years he responded "Aye Lass what'll it be?"
Mac380
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So here I am, a Scotsman on the 'Edge', enjoyer of the surreal and unreal.
I have gone past enjoying a "normal" night out, a night of standing at the bar chatting about banal subjects holds no fascination for me.
Now I want to share the night with the freaks and deviants, the ones who let their desires and imagination escape to form an alternative reality within the one we inhabit.
Take the grey of normality and set light to it with the colours of the dark side. No imagination is the same as the next, everyone brings their own particular brilliance to the stage.
Amazing what you can write after a couple of Whisky's
I have gone past enjoying a "normal" night out, a night of standing at the bar chatting about banal subjects holds no fascination for me.
Now I want to share the night with the freaks and deviants, the ones who let their desires and imagination escape to form an alternative reality within the one we inhabit.
Take the grey of normality and set light to it with the colours of the dark side. No imagination is the same as the next, everyone brings their own particular brilliance to the stage.
Amazing what you can write after a couple of Whisky's
MsK2021
Katie
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I get sucked into the bar scene when I see an intoxicated poet singing. He looks on the 'Edge' between the surreal and unreal, in the shadow tinted with the colors of the dark side. It's dark but I somehow feel a peculiar sensation of warmth at the corner. But all in all, after all, nothing is black, nothing white. I see shades of colors that have no names.
Did you say you just had some Whisky? Are you the bartender? Drinking behind the bar? Can I have a Whiskey Sour without any sweet syrup? I like the pungent taste. Pungent, sour and salty. I don't mind it if it stings a little or even burns a bit, but nothing stronger than that for me.
Did you say you just had some Whisky? Are you the bartender? Drinking behind the bar? Can I have a Whiskey Sour without any sweet syrup? I like the pungent taste. Pungent, sour and salty. I don't mind it if it stings a little or even burns a bit, but nothing stronger than that for me.
Mac380
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Leaning on the bar I look curiously at you, "it sounds as if someone has been serving you a Whisky Sweet.
Trust me, our Whisky Sours have no syrup in them so prepare to pucker up those lips as the lemon juice does it's job"
MsK2021
Katie
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Hi, Stephanie , did the bartender give you a Rum and Coke? I am Katie.
Mac was once at my house. I asked him how his love-life was. He said something like it might take longer than one bottle of wine to talk about it. Maybe my question was not meant to be answered or to be talked about. Maybe it was meant to be savored, as in savoring the taste of life.
I enjoy sitting at the bar. The music, the air and even the dim lights express themselves better than most words are capable of.
Mac was once at my house. I asked him how his love-life was. He said something like it might take longer than one bottle of wine to talk about it. Maybe my question was not meant to be answered or to be talked about. Maybe it was meant to be savored, as in savoring the taste of life.
I enjoy sitting at the bar. The music, the air and even the dim lights express themselves better than most words are capable of.
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Mac380
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Here is the script from a recent reading I attended at "The Haunted Sex Shop" in Berlin which was kindly organised by @KinkySoul_Berlin.
*Please note: this is a script so some of the words are Onomatopoeia
The Real Loch Ness Monster
Scotland!
The land of my forefathers.
Renowned for its mountains, glens, midges and of course great Myths.
None greater than the Myth of The Loch Ness Monster.
But what if I was to tell you that it is not a monster in those waters, at least not the monster that you think it is.
Many centuries ago in the grand fortress of Urquhart Castle lived a Laird and his 3 sons.
The Laird doted over his sons as they had lost their mother during the birth of the third son.
By a twist of fate each son had been born precisely one year apart on the night of 'Sah Vin' (Samhain)the Scottish Halloween.
A clan of Selkies took up residence in the Loch and demanded a tribute each year, less they destroy any boat that set sail on the waters.
As tribute any child born on 'Sah Vin' and reaching their 10th birthday, would be taken by the Selkies if the father was unable to sate the desires of the Selkie queen.
In the year of the Lairds first sons 9th birthday, across the Loch a Blacksmiths son reached his 10th year.
The Smith had spent the day laboring in his forge preparing strong locks to keep his son safe in his room. In the evening made his way to the Loch side with a bottle of Whisky to fortify himself for the nights events.
As the sun set a dark creature emerged from the Loch, covered in weed and slimy skin, it's nose sniffed the air and it recoiled at the smell of the Smiths stale sweat and body odour, it then saw that the Smith had drunk so much that he would not be able to raise his manhood to the task of the night.
With a screech the Queen dove back into the water.
No sooner than the ripples reached the shore than a scream came from the Smiths house, as his wife found their son magicked away by the Selkies.
On hearing the story the laird sent word across his lands of his plight.
Eventually a wise woman from high in the mountains of Affric answered his call.
She presented him with three jars and instructions on how to use them on the night of 'Sah Vin'
When the night arrived, the Laird was to bathe in fresh water taken from the Falls of Orin before applying a poultice of Sage, Thyme, Rosemary and Lavender to his body.
As he left the castle he was to swallow the contents of the second jar, a tincture of Pine sap, Oak root and Birch bark, lastly when he arrived at the Lochside he was to take the three mint leaves from the third jar and chew upon them.
As the last rays of light disappeared over the hills of Auchteraw, the Selkie Queen appeared from the water, weed and shiny grey mottled skin glistening in the moon light.
Her nose twitched, but unlike the Smith it was not in revulsion but in appreciation of the scent of the herbs that the Laird had spread upon his body.
As she drew closer she caught a whiff of the mint on the Lairds breath, pleasing her so much that she shrugged off the skin that she wore. As the skin fell to the beach it revealed a lithe maiden with white hair like the crests of the waves on the loch surface, a smooth light brown skin dyed by the peaty waters of the loch and bright blue eyes that shone like the clear blue skies above the loch on a fine summers day.
The laird could not help himself, at the sight of the Queen his manhood began to rise, stiff and straight like the pine trees that grew in the glens of his land, hard and solid like the Oak roots that buried deep within the soil and with textured with contours like the bark of the birch trees.
He took the Queen roughly and with a desperate passion to save his son and sate the Queens needs. All through the night he drove at it, using his limited knowledge to try and make the Queen climax.
It wasn't until the first rays of dawn that the screams of her orgasm echoed across the waters and they collapsed on the ground.
Rising from the crushed heather that had been their bed the Queen stepped into the water.
Casting a look backwards she promised that the Lairds first son would be safe both on and in the waters of the loch.
The Laird made his way back to his castle and took to his bed for 3 days to recover from the exertions of the night.
He knew he could not perform like that again and it had come all too close to failure so he called upon the wise woman for her help again.
To spare his second son from the depths of the loch, the Laird should travel to Dunadd the seat of the Scottish Kings and beseech the council to let him study from the secret book of the Scots, the Tagusk Meean ("Teagasc Mian" Teachings on Desire).
The Laird did as she bid travelling through the hills to the far west where he spent months studying and taking notes from the "Tagusk Meean".
He returned in time for the second son’s 10th birthday and the wise woman supplied him with 3 jars to aid his night.
This time when the light faded over the loch the Queen Appeared casting off her Selkie skin before she had left the water letting the cool loch water wash over her lithe body.
The sight of her brought on the Lairds arousal, but this time instead of ravishing her, he took her hand and laid her down on a blanket.
He then proceeded to follow the teachings of the "Tagusk Meean", teasing and delving with lips, fingers and tongue, seeking out the Queens points of arousal.
Soon the trees were filled with her impassioned moans as the Laird used all the talents at his disposal to bring her to the edge before her cries of ecstasy greeted the first light at the top of the Loch.
This time they lay together while the sun edged its way into the sky, looking deep into the blue of her eyes the Laird lent forward to kiss her, but she reeled away "NO, you cannot, or you will become like us."
Rolling away, she went back to the Loch, casting a lingering gaze back at the Laird as she sank below the surface.
The Laird was spent from his efforts and crawled back to his chambers taking several weeks to recuperate sound in the knowledge, that his second son was safe.
When he finally emerged from his rooms he called for his most trusty courtier and sent him with instructions to find the best weaver in the country to make a cloak of the finest material.
He then called for the wise woman, thanking her deeply for her help and asking her for her help one last time so that he might save the life of his last child.
The rest of the year was spent in preparation, castle staff roaming the hills collecting ingredients and brewing fine elixirs, tailors and weavers arrived with fine cloths to create a cloak.
The night arrived and the Laird waited patiently by the Loch, on the air a new scent hung, a mixture of black rose, spice and leather greeted the Queen as she rose from the water.
Before she could step out of the water the Laird entered carrying the new cloak, embroidered with all the colours of the Loch, from the brown shades of the peat-stained waters to the purple of the heather that they had lain in during their love making. Now a bright scent reached her as he lifted off her old cloak and replaced it with this new one, scents of the fir trees and jasmine flowers had been woven into the fabric that he wrapped around her body.
He knelt in the water before her "My Queen, I beseech ye with this gift and the gift of my undying love, to let my third son survive this night."
The queen bid him rise as she stared into his eyes "Is that truly what you wish for? To be my consort under the water?"
As the Laird nodded his head, she bid him rise and lifted her mouth to his, giving him a long deep kiss. "Now we will be together forever!"
The Laird was never seen again and no more children born upon 'Sah Vin' have been claimed by the Selkies.
So, when the waters of Loch Ness stir for no reason, when ghostly shapes are seen rising out of the water, it is not some long-lost monster, but the Queen and her Laird in the throes of passion.
©2024 Naughty_Scribe
*Please note: this is a script so some of the words are Onomatopoeia
The Real Loch Ness Monster
Scotland!
The land of my forefathers.
Renowned for its mountains, glens, midges and of course great Myths.
None greater than the Myth of The Loch Ness Monster.
But what if I was to tell you that it is not a monster in those waters, at least not the monster that you think it is.
Many centuries ago in the grand fortress of Urquhart Castle lived a Laird and his 3 sons.
The Laird doted over his sons as they had lost their mother during the birth of the third son.
By a twist of fate each son had been born precisely one year apart on the night of 'Sah Vin' (Samhain)the Scottish Halloween.
A clan of Selkies took up residence in the Loch and demanded a tribute each year, less they destroy any boat that set sail on the waters.
As tribute any child born on 'Sah Vin' and reaching their 10th birthday, would be taken by the Selkies if the father was unable to sate the desires of the Selkie queen.
In the year of the Lairds first sons 9th birthday, across the Loch a Blacksmiths son reached his 10th year.
The Smith had spent the day laboring in his forge preparing strong locks to keep his son safe in his room. In the evening made his way to the Loch side with a bottle of Whisky to fortify himself for the nights events.
As the sun set a dark creature emerged from the Loch, covered in weed and slimy skin, it's nose sniffed the air and it recoiled at the smell of the Smiths stale sweat and body odour, it then saw that the Smith had drunk so much that he would not be able to raise his manhood to the task of the night.
With a screech the Queen dove back into the water.
No sooner than the ripples reached the shore than a scream came from the Smiths house, as his wife found their son magicked away by the Selkies.
On hearing the story the laird sent word across his lands of his plight.
Eventually a wise woman from high in the mountains of Affric answered his call.
She presented him with three jars and instructions on how to use them on the night of 'Sah Vin'
When the night arrived, the Laird was to bathe in fresh water taken from the Falls of Orin before applying a poultice of Sage, Thyme, Rosemary and Lavender to his body.
As he left the castle he was to swallow the contents of the second jar, a tincture of Pine sap, Oak root and Birch bark, lastly when he arrived at the Lochside he was to take the three mint leaves from the third jar and chew upon them.
As the last rays of light disappeared over the hills of Auchteraw, the Selkie Queen appeared from the water, weed and shiny grey mottled skin glistening in the moon light.
Her nose twitched, but unlike the Smith it was not in revulsion but in appreciation of the scent of the herbs that the Laird had spread upon his body.
As she drew closer she caught a whiff of the mint on the Lairds breath, pleasing her so much that she shrugged off the skin that she wore. As the skin fell to the beach it revealed a lithe maiden with white hair like the crests of the waves on the loch surface, a smooth light brown skin dyed by the peaty waters of the loch and bright blue eyes that shone like the clear blue skies above the loch on a fine summers day.
The laird could not help himself, at the sight of the Queen his manhood began to rise, stiff and straight like the pine trees that grew in the glens of his land, hard and solid like the Oak roots that buried deep within the soil and with textured with contours like the bark of the birch trees.
He took the Queen roughly and with a desperate passion to save his son and sate the Queens needs. All through the night he drove at it, using his limited knowledge to try and make the Queen climax.
It wasn't until the first rays of dawn that the screams of her orgasm echoed across the waters and they collapsed on the ground.
Rising from the crushed heather that had been their bed the Queen stepped into the water.
Casting a look backwards she promised that the Lairds first son would be safe both on and in the waters of the loch.
The Laird made his way back to his castle and took to his bed for 3 days to recover from the exertions of the night.
He knew he could not perform like that again and it had come all too close to failure so he called upon the wise woman for her help again.
To spare his second son from the depths of the loch, the Laird should travel to Dunadd the seat of the Scottish Kings and beseech the council to let him study from the secret book of the Scots, the Tagusk Meean ("Teagasc Mian" Teachings on Desire).
The Laird did as she bid travelling through the hills to the far west where he spent months studying and taking notes from the "Tagusk Meean".
He returned in time for the second son’s 10th birthday and the wise woman supplied him with 3 jars to aid his night.
This time when the light faded over the loch the Queen Appeared casting off her Selkie skin before she had left the water letting the cool loch water wash over her lithe body.
The sight of her brought on the Lairds arousal, but this time instead of ravishing her, he took her hand and laid her down on a blanket.
He then proceeded to follow the teachings of the "Tagusk Meean", teasing and delving with lips, fingers and tongue, seeking out the Queens points of arousal.
Soon the trees were filled with her impassioned moans as the Laird used all the talents at his disposal to bring her to the edge before her cries of ecstasy greeted the first light at the top of the Loch.
This time they lay together while the sun edged its way into the sky, looking deep into the blue of her eyes the Laird lent forward to kiss her, but she reeled away "NO, you cannot, or you will become like us."
Rolling away, she went back to the Loch, casting a lingering gaze back at the Laird as she sank below the surface.
The Laird was spent from his efforts and crawled back to his chambers taking several weeks to recuperate sound in the knowledge, that his second son was safe.
When he finally emerged from his rooms he called for his most trusty courtier and sent him with instructions to find the best weaver in the country to make a cloak of the finest material.
He then called for the wise woman, thanking her deeply for her help and asking her for her help one last time so that he might save the life of his last child.
The rest of the year was spent in preparation, castle staff roaming the hills collecting ingredients and brewing fine elixirs, tailors and weavers arrived with fine cloths to create a cloak.
The night arrived and the Laird waited patiently by the Loch, on the air a new scent hung, a mixture of black rose, spice and leather greeted the Queen as she rose from the water.
Before she could step out of the water the Laird entered carrying the new cloak, embroidered with all the colours of the Loch, from the brown shades of the peat-stained waters to the purple of the heather that they had lain in during their love making. Now a bright scent reached her as he lifted off her old cloak and replaced it with this new one, scents of the fir trees and jasmine flowers had been woven into the fabric that he wrapped around her body.
He knelt in the water before her "My Queen, I beseech ye with this gift and the gift of my undying love, to let my third son survive this night."
The queen bid him rise as she stared into his eyes "Is that truly what you wish for? To be my consort under the water?"
As the Laird nodded his head, she bid him rise and lifted her mouth to his, giving him a long deep kiss. "Now we will be together forever!"
The Laird was never seen again and no more children born upon 'Sah Vin' have been claimed by the Selkies.
So, when the waters of Loch Ness stir for no reason, when ghostly shapes are seen rising out of the water, it is not some long-lost monster, but the Queen and her Laird in the throes of passion.
©2024 Naughty_Scribe
Mac380
Naughty_Scribe
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2014
- Posts
- 3,609
The Scribes latest offering: The Highland Wench
Mac380
Naughty_Scribe
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2014
- Posts
- 3,609
Letters
Rain drops dripped off the leaves onto Shani's dark hair which was already a dark wet mat hanging past her ears.
Daddy had told her to wear 'proper' shoes when he had sent her out to collect apples, but she had seen the sunshine and wanted to run between the trees to do his bidding. Now her feet were soaking wet, cold and to top it all off she had run so far that she had lost her bearings.
Daddy was going to be mad if she got lost and he had to come and find her.
She tried to retrace her steps, but all the trees looked the same and each time she thought she was going in the right direction a bramble patch would block her way tearing at her leggings and poking holes in her t-shirt.
The bag of apples she had collected was getting heavier and the sky above was darkening with no signs of the persistent drizzle of rain letting up.
"Oh Daddy, where are you?" she thought, wishing she was back in his warm embrace even if he was going to punish her for getting lost and wearing the wrong shoes.
Through the mist of rain she caught glimpse of something dark and straight amongst the many curves of the trees and bushes.
Shani extricated herself from the latest bramble patch getting a few scratches which left little red blotches on her T-Shirt as she headed toward what turned out to be an old house.
The house did not seem to be creepy or foreboding, in fact it looked as though it had been well cared for until it had been left to the forest.
The remnants of an old wooden fence marked the border between the forest and what had been a flower garden. Even now some of the hardier plants survived, their late blooms fading with the autumn but still giving splashes of colour.
The house had been painted white at one time but now the paint was flaking off exposing the darker wood underneath. The roof was still sound after many years of good maintenance, protecting the porch and the wooden bench which had overlooked the flower garden.
Daddy had always said that she should always find somewhere safe if she got lost and wait for him to come and rescue her.
Shani decided that this would be the safest place and easiest to find in the forest, so she climbed up onto the bench. Kicking off her wet shoes she curled her legs under herself and prepared herself for the wait for Daddy to come to her.
She did not really want to go into the house, it may have looked charming at one time, but any old empty house in a forest had a certain creepiness to it.
Looking around she spotted, in a back corner of the porch, an old chest hidden under some leaves which had blown in from the forest.
Jumping down, Shani tiptoed over in her damp socks and brushed the leaves from the top.
Faded paintwork covered the lid, yellow and red swirls danced over blue waves with white crests, at either end green islands sat on the edges of the sea and two figures stood opposite each other looking longingly at each other over the breaking ocean crests.
Lifting the lid Shani found an old blanket that must have been used by the previous occupant when they sat on the bench. Reaching in she pulled it out and gave it a shake to evict the spiders. Out of it dropped a brown bundle which thumped onto the porch and rolled to her feet.
She looked at it for a moment before wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and retrieving the bundle from the floor.
She did her little tiptoe run back to the bench and jumped up curling herself up under the blanket.
Now she examined the package, a stack of old envelopes tied up with some old brown string. Picking at the knot she worried at it until it came free and she was able to unwrap the letters.
The letters were delicate and had been read and reread many times but always neatly folded back into their respective envelopes.
Lifting the top one she carefully extracted the paper and unfolded it, it was a letter from a soldier to 'his' Babygirl who he had left behind in the cottage. In it he described how he was preparing to cross the ocean with his company but he was sure he would be back soon to hold her in his arms and take care of her, until then she had to be a brave girl and remember all the things he had told her.
Shani pulled the blanket tight around her, She was being a brave girl all alone out here like the other Babygirl waiting for her Daddy.
The forest grew darker as the sun dropped lower to the horizon making the words on the paper harder to read. She fished into her pocket and pulled out her house key, hanging on the ring was the little torch that Daddy had given to her if she ever needed to try to find the keyhole in the dark. Flicking it on, it produced just enough light to see the pages of the letters.
Shani folded the first letter back into the envelope and pulled out the next one, the Daddy had now reached France and was marching with his men to the front, he described the sights of bombed out houses but also of the beautiful countryside and the wild flowers that reminded him of his Babygirls flower garden that he longed to see again.
The next letter was dirty and torn, Daddy was now on the frontline and was snatching a few minutes while he was in his frozen foxhole, to write to his cherished Babygirl, remembering times that they had spent together and things that she must remember to do while he was away.
Almost desperately Shani pulled the next letter out of its envelope 'What had happened to Daddy, was he ok had he made it through the dark and the cold?'
As she unfolded it a little flower slipped out of the pages. Dry and slightly faded, the little yellow flower fell onto her lap, a little harmless flower from the fields of France that had crossed thousands of miles to be with Daddies little Babygirl.
Her eyes floated along the lines as Daddy described how they had moved forward into a bright field of yellow flowers, it was quiet and the larks sang in the skies, the scent of the flowers reminded him of her perfume when the warm sunshine fell upon her creamy skin making it soft to the touch, describing how he loved to watch her dance and skip through the meadows. Shani gave a slight shudder as a small tear of happiness rolled down her cheek, dropping onto the flower making the yellow glow just a little bit more in the torch light.
With her fingertips, Shani lifted the flower and patted it dry before slipping it back into the folds of the letter.
Daddies letters went on to tell the story of his journey through France, Belgium and on into Germany. More and more he talked of when they would see each other again, his hopes were rising that the war would be over soon and he would hold her in his arms, smell her fragrance and kiss her soft skin.
But interspersed amongst the hopes were the stories of losses of his comrades and the devastation around them. Babygirl would pull the blanket tight around her as she read those parts, wishing she could feel Daddies big strong arms wrap around her and keep her safe, she wished she could wrap herself around him and protect him.
"The end is in sight." wrote Daddy "We have reached Berlin, the news is that the Russians have stormed the Reichstag. I will soon be sailing back to you Babygirl."
Shani almost laughed with joy at the news, Daddy was safe he was coming home to hold his Babygirl tight and make sure she was okay.
The last envelope in the pile was slightly larger and looked crumpled, was it Daddies discharge papers? A certificate of commendation?
Pulling it open she read the first line and her heart crashed through her stomach "It is with much regret…."
"NO!" she screamed, tears flooding out of her eyes, how could it be, he had been safe, he had been coming home..
Wiping the tears away, she read on, "…while trying to rescue a family from a burning house an unexploded bomb…"
"DADDY!" she wailed into the night, tears again clouding her vision.
A great crashing came from the forest at the sound of her cry and a huge pair of arms swept her up off the bench.
"DADDY!" this time her scream was of relief and joy, "I thought I had lost you."
"What?" Daddy looked confused "you were the one that was lost Babygirl."
Wrapping her arms and legs around him she hugged him tight, tears of happiness dripping onto his face as she kissed his rough lips.
"Please don't leave me again Daddy."
"What?, are you going crazy Babygirl, do I have to discipline you again?"
"Please Daddy, discipline me, love me, do whatever you like to me, just always be with me."
Extracting himself from her clutches, Daddy put her down "Now get your shoes and I will take you home."
Grabbing her trainers from the bench she pulled them on and was about to run after Daddy.
"Wait!" she shouted, turning back to the bench.
Lifting the blanket she gave it a good shake before folding it and placing it back in the chest.
Lifting the pile of letters she tied them up again neatly, giving them a kiss before placing them on top of the blanket and closing the lid.
"Goodbye Daddy."
Mac380
Naughty_Scribe
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2014
- Posts
- 3,609
My lates release in the "Highland" series: Highland-Wench
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