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Bedtime stories for sub boys.

Silverlily said:
Interesting.

Three pages and still no stories. Perhaps you boys need to change your approach.




Pyjamas are so boring.
Click to expand...

*Pulls out sketchpad and a flashlight with the blanket over my head*
 
Silverlily said:
Interesting.

Three pages and still no stories. Perhaps you boys need to change your approach.




Pyjamas are so boring.
Click to expand...
Yeah, I know, the doms and sub girls have taken over this thread too! Get out, all of you!!!

now, *goes into super cute begging mode* Can you tell us a story pleeeeeeeease? we've been good boys, not like those nasty naughty doms and femsubs. *pouty begging face*
 
OK, nasty little femsub's gonna post a bedtime story for you boys. It's a copy-n-paste from another place, and a little strange, but I can tell a female dominant wrote it, and that's what's important here, I think. :)

Edges

Eyes closed, I knew him as a lover. In the darkness, I felt the heat of his skin, leaning close. Moist and warm, his scent rose. His pulse beat gently against my cheek, skin molded to skin. Warmth from without met warmth from within as we fell into the quiet ways that served us for lifetimes, the ways of lover, parent, of friend. The ways of us.

Eyes closed, I searched. The silken touch of baby-fine hair, the skin-warmed chain 'round his neck, the fine ropes and yielding skin. Touching, holding, squeezing, probing, I felt him quicken and stir. I mapped the world by touch and sound, claiming all I found. I claimed it, possessed it, and possessed him. Captive, he never moved.

He could not. Eyes open, I knew him as my prize. Fine white ropes encircled him in lines and diamonds, pressing flesh wherever they went. He knelt, naked, legs spread and held fast, his body encaged and bound. Bound, he could not rise; legs spread, he could not descend. I took his body; I seduced his surrender.

"No matter what happens, trust me to make it right."

He hesitated, listening. Gently, I pinched his nipples and saw the blush of arousal. My eyes found his, and waited, examining the depths there. "Yes…Mistress." "Good boy." I could feel his certainty and his trust, his innocent trust.

Eyes covered, he knew nothing but cool air and quiet footsteps. I moved in near silence, feeling my robe swirl. I summoned the memory of a priestess, of the years we spent together, of the hundred little demonstrations of his trust, and swallowed my uncertainty. He's trusting me to make it right.

Down the hall, I could hear keys ticking softly. Martie turned from the keyboard as I entered; she sat up a bit and smiled. "Yes, we're ready", I said, in a near whisper.

She typed a few parting words, and peeled off her top as she shut down the computer. I kissed the side of her neck, her pulse steady against my lips, and unclasped her bra. Her breasts were firm and warm beneath my fingers; her skin rose in tiny bumps as I rubbed on the alcohol. Cleansed, she pulled the velveteen tunic back over her head.

Martie's tiny hand rested in mine as we entered the hallway. Slowly, we walked back to the living room. One step, then another, heels clicking on the polished wood. I held a finger to her lips as we entered the room. She saw him, and leaned against my shoulder.

He knelt. Alone on the small rug, he waited.

I whispered in his ear. "You are going to feel something. Do not move." Martie handed me the large square pillow, which I placed directly in front of him; she stood before it.

I took Martie down, an inch at a time, with a hand in her hair. Her skirt washed over the front of his thighs, their knees touching. He knelt, back straight and hands on his thighs, covered in the folds of fabric.

I uncovered his eyes, and he beheld her delicate face. Martie is a china doll, creamy skin and long black hair, her face a shimmering study in reds and pale blue. Her lips and eyes were colored to capture and hold his attention, her lips in fiery red and eyes the color of a Caribbean sea. Entranced, he beheld her.

"This is Martie. She has admired you from afar, admired the loving gift your submission is to me. We would like to share that love today. Will you give it?"

He closed his eyes and thought for a long minute. I could feel my heart beating, waiting. "Yes", he said, low and drawn out, bowing his head.

"Kneel up", I whispered as I pulled him up onto his knees, "and hold her". They embraced, body to body; his posture stiff and awkward. I stroked his hair and they breathed together, her belly pushing into his. Slowly, he relaxed, his head nestling into her shoulder.

"Let her feel those healing hands on her back." He massaged up and down, stroking, smoothing, pulling her body against his for support. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the sensation, arching her back gently. Once again, he closed his eyes and focused.

"Take her hands." He started to pull back, and I pressed them together. "Take her hands and feel the warmth of her body. Feel the pulse that beats, the breath that flows. Feel the life in her and let her feel yours." They breathed together, eyes closed; the air seemed to shimmer and I knew what she felt.

I knew what they would feel; he would feel the beat of her heart and every texture on her skin, she would feel a wave bubbling up from inside. Dear reader, these words may mean nothing to you, but I pray that you should know such joy. It is feeling a mother's love and a father's strong arm about you; it is the splendor of a new lover and the intimacy of a lifetime together; it is fire and wind and light and the power of the sea enjoined; it is all this, bursting from the center of your heart. And he would open the door, know her body from within, and fill her with such a shining treasure. I knew what they would feel, for he is Mine and has given me his gift.

"Yes", I whispered, "give her your self and take her in." I slipped a hand in his hair and pulled gently, tilting his face upwards. The sense of shimmering expanded to envelop us all; I felt electric currents swirl. Caught between my hands and hers, open to her soul, he had no choice but to accept the sense of her body within himself.

I knelt behind him, placed his head on my shoulder, and took his hands. Slowly, I pulled them away from hers; slowly, we traced a circle together in the air. The tension in his hands and arms faded as he gave me control; I held him, controlled him, and kept him in that special trance. "Watch her", I said quietly, and folded his hands in the small of his back.

Martie opened her eyes, and brilliance shone within. She looked at the man who had just placed that fire there. Smiling, she lifted her tunic with fluid grace. As the hem rose to her chest, she looked down for a moment, then caught his gaze as she revealed herself. Quickly, she pulled the tunic over her head and off, setting it on the floor behind her. As he sat, so did she - kneeling, palms on her thighs, back straight.

I heard his sharp breath as he smelled the alcohol. "This is for her." I wiped the top of her right breast with a damp pad, and had him clean the left. I leaned in close behind him. "Watch".

The needle sat in my left hand. Martie took a deep breath and held it; I held her gaze as I slowly pressed the needle into her flesh, watching the skin dimple under the pressure and finally break. I could feel his back stiffen as the metal touched, and wondered how it felt to him in the connected trance. The metal slipped under her skin, into her, and out the other side. She exhaled, slowly.

His neck was cool under my lips. "Breathe." I waited, until the air flowed in and out of him again. I could feel his head turning away and back, caught between discomfort and the command to watch.

"Hold the needle." I was ready to pierce her right. I held his hand, guided it, and slowly drove the point into her flesh. He had to watch, had to feel my every action and her reactions. I held him, controlled him, and took him into my world.

Together, we loved Martie. He took her hands again and explored the sense of her body, felt the high building within her, and washed her yet again in that incredible power. She wrapped those delicate hands around his and explored around the needles, stroking and tapping the pierced flesh, falling into the sensations. Together, we seduced him.

I knelt before him, drinking in those beautiful eyes. "I want you to pierce me as well. I trust you." He had never before laid other than the tenderest of healing hands on his Mistress; those eyes went wide. Martie helped, handing him the wipes and the needles; his touch was gentle, and I could feel soft pulses of energy wash from his fingertips through me. The healer within him was reaching out, soothing, grounding, cleansing.

I breathed, and felt the familiar fire of the needle. The hand driving the point remained steady, but his left hand - his receptive hand - jerked slightly at the rush that passed through me. Yet he pressed on, sliding the slender probe through my skin. A second followed suit, where Martie pointed, and soon the two of us were alike.

I kissed him. "You were perfect". Martie leaned in close, letting her hair wash over her shoulder. "Want to be like us?"

He hesitated. I waited, smiling, knowing the fear that churned within. She caressed his back softly, I held my hands over his. His thighs trembled beneath my hands, and I gave him all the time in the world. He closed his eyes, going deep inside.

Eyes open, I beheld my trembling prize. My beautiful prize. Two breaths, three, four…he opened his eyes and stared into mine.

"If it would please You, I would."

Martie held him close, from behind, her hands over his on his thighs. We all breathed together, and he held his breath. His chest was firm and resilient; the needle slipped in with the barest dimple and out quickly. Nothing fancy, nothing too slow, and the thinnest ones I had. Martie pierced the other side as I held his hair and sang quietly. Soon, the three of us were as one - breathing as one, touching as one, pierced as one.

Wearing gloves, I removed Martie's piercings; gloved, he reached slowly to remove mine. We laid him down on the floor, and she held his arms as I straddled him to remove the last two needles. Cradled and secure, he breathed gently throughout. I held my hands over his eyes, smoothed his eyelids closed, and entered the darkness myself.

Eyes closed, I felt the warmth of his body beneath mine, felt the gentle pulsing of his heart. Eyes closed, I remembered his trembling hands, his growing confidence, of trusting my body to his care. Eyes open, I beheld the man who trusted me this night, now vulnerable and helpless. Martie looked at me and breathed "he's beautiful."

Slowly, she took his hair in her hands and pulled; he fell into a deep trance. Her lips tasted his skin, her hands pinched and probed and felt his surrender. Together, we took his body. Yet I alone possessed his soul.

The End

Now, bad boys, GO TO SLEEP!
 
And here's one more. I think it's by the same lady. She has nice touch. :)

Secret Summer

It’s a warm lazy summer day, and the water laps at the sides of the boat. Gentle rocking lulls you to the edge of sleep; eyes closed, you hear the soft splashing on the hull, the quiet buzzing of insects, the laughter of children far away. The sun’s warmth cocoons you, holds you close; breezes ruffle the sail and tease your skin and hair. Each breath comes in a gentle wave, slowly washing in and washing out. Time has no meaning here; the world is purely yours.

Time drifts; sleep drifts behind closed eyes; the boat rocks gently. Cool shadows cross your body; puffy clouds amble across the deep blue sky and past the sun. You open your eyes, refreshed, and stretch gently. Gentle too is hunger and thirst; sleep held you for quite some time.

Bare feet on warm polished wood, you walk softly down narrow stairs into cool dimness. The room is small and dark belowdecks, you look about and see the ice chest is a glowing white rectangle near the floor. Finding a sandwich and water, you sit to eat, watching light dance in traces on the walls and ceiling.

A quiet stirring from across the room; a sigh of breath. He sleeps beneath a single white sheet, fallen away across his upper back, curls spilling gently onto the pillow. You move to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed. You feel the warmth and slight dampness of his skin as your hands turn lazy circles across his back. "How are you feeling, precious?"

"I’m better." You spread your fingers and press gently as he tries to turn, to roll. He stretches, muscles flexing gently. "Shhh...stay there." You slip the straw between his lips and wait as he sips the cool water. "We have all the time in the world."

Your hands find his back again; this time, they begin kneading gently. You feel the slow pulse of his heart beneath your palms, begin breathing in time with him, and then slowly deepen your breaths. He responds, and you feel the merging; your hands reaching to and through his body as you hold its surface. Your awareness enters him, as his merges with yours; yours knows another’s warm blood, his immerses you in the liquid coolness of the lake mere inches away. You are supported and cradled in this gently rocking womb.

In this timeless place, the fire awakens. Your fingers find the hidden knots and hunt them as a hound chases the fox. Your nails trace his spine and shoulders, tracing webs of color and heat. Each time, the pleasure dissolves his will to resist the pain; each time, your spirit binds his more fully. Your hands find his legs, and extend the cocoon of control; your hands find his hair and swim in its softness. Whispered: "stay".

You hold him there, one hand in his hair, as you cast about beneath the bunk with the other hand. A strap comes out, up, over, and across. You wrap it through a ring on the other side; both hands find the buckle and fasten it tightly. His naked legs are spread and tied; his wrists bound down as well. You kiss his skin, tasting it, and nibble at his neck and ear. As quietly as the lapping waters, you say "you will tell me."

He opens sparkling eyes and shakes his head the tiniest bit.

"I want you to, so you will."

He remains mute.

Caress his back again; feed the connection. Stroke and dig and scratch; enrapture him in the pleasure and soft pain. Soft cloth and fur find their way into your hands and across his skin. You begin to slap gently, then with energy. "Tell me, little one." You spank, feeling him struggle then surrender. The skin grows hot under your stroking fingers. He falls into a rhythm with your hand, rising gently to meet it. His breaths move away from yours raggedly.

A pause.

"Tell me."

You spank gently...two times, three.

He breathes raggedly.

"Tell me", you say, tapping gently with each word, "and I’ll go on."

He moves in the bonds, trying to stretch. Muscles flex just beneath the surface as hips search for your hand. You are on the bed then, pinning him, binding him with raw strength.

"None of that. I own your pleasure. Tell me."

You feel the struggle and wrap your fingers in his hair. You wait.

"Not yet...Mistress."

The fire within burns brightly at this defiance. You are powerful; you will have the prize buried within. He can only wait helplessly as you prepare.

The small ball fits between his teeth; you lift up his hair and fasten the strap tightly. The hood is thin, black as night, and stretches tightly to fit his head. He cannot see, cannot speak, and cannot move. And you still have the question.

Your hands find him one last time, soothingly. "You could have given it to me." You caress his back, feel the still rising heat of the spanking, and touch the curves of his legs. Down slowly, touching, pinching, squeezing. "It could have been so pleasurable." You start up, slowly, teasing his inner thighs, then pause.

"But now, it’s mine to take."

He tries to pull away as your hand closes tightly, crushingly, twistingly, but stretching away only makes it worse. You hear the muffled grunt of surprise and count to 10, then relax. You squeeze again, harder and longer, feeling him fight. Squeeze and release, building the fear and the anticipation.

He tries to speak. "Too late. I’m coming to get it."

The tip of the cane traces across his back and down his legs. You begin striking gently, a pattering sound as each small sting lands in a different place. The darkest marks are on the most delicate skin, warmed from before. You find the limits you tested before, and pause. The single sharp stroke that follows makes the bed creak as he pulls at the bonds. You can hear him breathing, sniffling. "I love you. Endure my pleasure."

Eight more strokes land in short order; with each, the flash of heat from his spirit igniting yours. Each stroke is a lightning bolt, an electric fire, a crack in the wall. You raise your hand for number nine, but suddenly feel that the work is done.

The hood is wet with tears, the gag removed from a trembling mouth. You unbuckle him and hold him close, a ball curled up by your side. You kiss and whisper and look into his eyes. His awareness returns and love suffuses his face. "How are you feeling, precious?"

He takes a deep breath, and answers in wondering tones "I’m alive." "Yes, you are. And I’m proud of you." You cuddle close, and you watch as joyful tears fall. "I don’t need to fear that again."

"Yes", you say, "you don’t."

"Oh, and Mistress?" "Yes, pet?" "Look under my pillow."

You shift and slip a hand under the pillow, feeling a small box there. He reaches up to turn on a lamp as you pull it out and slip off the ribbon.

A small jewelry box lies inside, and a pendant in that. Fire plays through the gem as you turn it in the light; sparkling to reflect the pure fire of your love. He takes the end of the gold chain and kisses the back of your neck softly as the clasp is closed there. You feel the coolness against your skin, and the warmth in your heart.

"Mistress, that is my secret; my secret gift for you. That, and the promise kept; the promise not to tell what I had bought you, no matter what.

Happy birthday, love."
 
TaintedB said:
OK, nasty little femsub's gonna post a bedtime story for you boys. It's a copy-n-paste from another place, and a little strange, but I can tell a female dominant wrote it, and that's what's important here, I think. :)

Edges

Eyes closed, I knew him as a lover. In the darkness, I felt the heat of his skin, leaning close. Moist and warm, his scent rose. His pulse beat gently against my cheek, skin molded to skin. Warmth from without met warmth from within as we fell into the quiet ways that served us for lifetimes, the ways of lover, parent, of friend. The ways of us.

Eyes closed, I searched. The silken touch of baby-fine hair, the skin-warmed chain 'round his neck, the fine ropes and yielding skin. Touching, holding, squeezing, probing, I felt him quicken and stir. I mapped the world by touch and sound, claiming all I found. I claimed it, possessed it, and possessed him. Captive, he never moved.

He could not. Eyes open, I knew him as my prize. Fine white ropes encircled him in lines and diamonds, pressing flesh wherever they went. He knelt, naked, legs spread and held fast, his body encaged and bound. Bound, he could not rise; legs spread, he could not descend. I took his body; I seduced his surrender.

"No matter what happens, trust me to make it right."

He hesitated, listening. Gently, I pinched his nipples and saw the blush of arousal. My eyes found his, and waited, examining the depths there. "Yes…Mistress." "Good boy." I could feel his certainty and his trust, his innocent trust.

Eyes covered, he knew nothing but cool air and quiet footsteps. I moved in near silence, feeling my robe swirl. I summoned the memory of a priestess, of the years we spent together, of the hundred little demonstrations of his trust, and swallowed my uncertainty. He's trusting me to make it right.

Down the hall, I could hear keys ticking softly. Martie turned from the keyboard as I entered; she sat up a bit and smiled. "Yes, we're ready", I said, in a near whisper.

She typed a few parting words, and peeled off her top as she shut down the computer. I kissed the side of her neck, her pulse steady against my lips, and unclasped her bra. Her breasts were firm and warm beneath my fingers; her skin rose in tiny bumps as I rubbed on the alcohol. Cleansed, she pulled the velveteen tunic back over her head.

Martie's tiny hand rested in mine as we entered the hallway. Slowly, we walked back to the living room. One step, then another, heels clicking on the polished wood. I held a finger to her lips as we entered the room. She saw him, and leaned against my shoulder.

He knelt. Alone on the small rug, he waited.

I whispered in his ear. "You are going to feel something. Do not move." Martie handed me the large square pillow, which I placed directly in front of him; she stood before it.

I took Martie down, an inch at a time, with a hand in her hair. Her skirt washed over the front of his thighs, their knees touching. He knelt, back straight and hands on his thighs, covered in the folds of fabric.

I uncovered his eyes, and he beheld her delicate face. Martie is a china doll, creamy skin and long black hair, her face a shimmering study in reds and pale blue. Her lips and eyes were colored to capture and hold his attention, her lips in fiery red and eyes the color of a Caribbean sea. Entranced, he beheld her.

"This is Martie. She has admired you from afar, admired the loving gift your submission is to me. We would like to share that love today. Will you give it?"

He closed his eyes and thought for a long minute. I could feel my heart beating, waiting. "Yes", he said, low and drawn out, bowing his head.

"Kneel up", I whispered as I pulled him up onto his knees, "and hold her". They embraced, body to body; his posture stiff and awkward. I stroked his hair and they breathed together, her belly pushing into his. Slowly, he relaxed, his head nestling into her shoulder.

"Let her feel those healing hands on her back." He massaged up and down, stroking, smoothing, pulling her body against his for support. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the sensation, arching her back gently. Once again, he closed his eyes and focused.

"Take her hands." He started to pull back, and I pressed them together. "Take her hands and feel the warmth of her body. Feel the pulse that beats, the breath that flows. Feel the life in her and let her feel yours." They breathed together, eyes closed; the air seemed to shimmer and I knew what she felt.

I knew what they would feel; he would feel the beat of her heart and every texture on her skin, she would feel a wave bubbling up from inside. Dear reader, these words may mean nothing to you, but I pray that you should know such joy. It is feeling a mother's love and a father's strong arm about you; it is the splendor of a new lover and the intimacy of a lifetime together; it is fire and wind and light and the power of the sea enjoined; it is all this, bursting from the center of your heart. And he would open the door, know her body from within, and fill her with such a shining treasure. I knew what they would feel, for he is Mine and has given me his gift.

"Yes", I whispered, "give her your self and take her in." I slipped a hand in his hair and pulled gently, tilting his face upwards. The sense of shimmering expanded to envelop us all; I felt electric currents swirl. Caught between my hands and hers, open to her soul, he had no choice but to accept the sense of her body within himself.

I knelt behind him, placed his head on my shoulder, and took his hands. Slowly, I pulled them away from hers; slowly, we traced a circle together in the air. The tension in his hands and arms faded as he gave me control; I held him, controlled him, and kept him in that special trance. "Watch her", I said quietly, and folded his hands in the small of his back.

Martie opened her eyes, and brilliance shone within. She looked at the man who had just placed that fire there. Smiling, she lifted her tunic with fluid grace. As the hem rose to her chest, she looked down for a moment, then caught his gaze as she revealed herself. Quickly, she pulled the tunic over her head and off, setting it on the floor behind her. As he sat, so did she - kneeling, palms on her thighs, back straight.

I heard his sharp breath as he smelled the alcohol. "This is for her." I wiped the top of her right breast with a damp pad, and had him clean the left. I leaned in close behind him. "Watch".

The needle sat in my left hand. Martie took a deep breath and held it; I held her gaze as I slowly pressed the needle into her flesh, watching the skin dimple under the pressure and finally break. I could feel his back stiffen as the metal touched, and wondered how it felt to him in the connected trance. The metal slipped under her skin, into her, and out the other side. She exhaled, slowly.

His neck was cool under my lips. "Breathe." I waited, until the air flowed in and out of him again. I could feel his head turning away and back, caught between discomfort and the command to watch.

"Hold the needle." I was ready to pierce her right. I held his hand, guided it, and slowly drove the point into her flesh. He had to watch, had to feel my every action and her reactions. I held him, controlled him, and took him into my world.

Together, we loved Martie. He took her hands again and explored the sense of her body, felt the high building within her, and washed her yet again in that incredible power. She wrapped those delicate hands around his and explored around the needles, stroking and tapping the pierced flesh, falling into the sensations. Together, we seduced him.

I knelt before him, drinking in those beautiful eyes. "I want you to pierce me as well. I trust you." He had never before laid other than the tenderest of healing hands on his Mistress; those eyes went wide. Martie helped, handing him the wipes and the needles; his touch was gentle, and I could feel soft pulses of energy wash from his fingertips through me. The healer within him was reaching out, soothing, grounding, cleansing.

I breathed, and felt the familiar fire of the needle. The hand driving the point remained steady, but his left hand - his receptive hand - jerked slightly at the rush that passed through me. Yet he pressed on, sliding the slender probe through my skin. A second followed suit, where Martie pointed, and soon the two of us were alike.

I kissed him. "You were perfect". Martie leaned in close, letting her hair wash over her shoulder. "Want to be like us?"

He hesitated. I waited, smiling, knowing the fear that churned within. She caressed his back softly, I held my hands over his. His thighs trembled beneath my hands, and I gave him all the time in the world. He closed his eyes, going deep inside.

Eyes open, I beheld my trembling prize. My beautiful prize. Two breaths, three, four…he opened his eyes and stared into mine.

"If it would please You, I would."

Martie held him close, from behind, her hands over his on his thighs. We all breathed together, and he held his breath. His chest was firm and resilient; the needle slipped in with the barest dimple and out quickly. Nothing fancy, nothing too slow, and the thinnest ones I had. Martie pierced the other side as I held his hair and sang quietly. Soon, the three of us were as one - breathing as one, touching as one, pierced as one.

Wearing gloves, I removed Martie's piercings; gloved, he reached slowly to remove mine. We laid him down on the floor, and she held his arms as I straddled him to remove the last two needles. Cradled and secure, he breathed gently throughout. I held my hands over his eyes, smoothed his eyelids closed, and entered the darkness myself.

Eyes closed, I felt the warmth of his body beneath mine, felt the gentle pulsing of his heart. Eyes closed, I remembered his trembling hands, his growing confidence, of trusting my body to his care. Eyes open, I beheld the man who trusted me this night, now vulnerable and helpless. Martie looked at me and breathed "he's beautiful."

Slowly, she took his hair in her hands and pulled; he fell into a deep trance. Her lips tasted his skin, her hands pinched and probed and felt his surrender. Together, we took his body. Yet I alone possessed his soul.

The End

Now, bad boys, GO TO SLEEP!
Click to expand...

yay, thanks tainted :).
problem is, it's only 5:00 PM where I am......
 
Tainted....thank you. Here is one who is very thankful for those stories. The second especially. I loved them. Thank you Thank you Thank you.
 
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