G
Guest
Guest
Then I will wait patiently...this is a great idea.
hmmm...maybe I should start a thread as a male genie
Spin
hmmm...maybe I should start a thread as a male genie
Spin
Your Wish, My Command
- Thread starter SexyChele
- Start date
panty-tease
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2001
- Posts
- 173
Amanda
I quickly push my chair back from the desk almost toppling backwards...what the fuck was that? I quickly thought....I didnt do anything but yet there was my bottle on the computer screen....and words too....they flashed by pretty quickly but I got the jist that there is something of power inside the bottle and it is something that I can control? Hmmmmm, well if Im in control, it cant hurt me to open it right?
I slowly move towards the bottle, picking it up out of its box and sorta caressing the glass, hmmmmm, doesnt feel much different...but it does look like something is inside....a liquid maybe? I carefully take the top off...
I quickly push my chair back from the desk almost toppling backwards...what the fuck was that? I quickly thought....I didnt do anything but yet there was my bottle on the computer screen....and words too....they flashed by pretty quickly but I got the jist that there is something of power inside the bottle and it is something that I can control? Hmmmmm, well if Im in control, it cant hurt me to open it right?
I slowly move towards the bottle, picking it up out of its box and sorta caressing the glass, hmmmmm, doesnt feel much different...but it does look like something is inside....a liquid maybe? I carefully take the top off...
Khalia
I feel the strong pull from deep within the void, pulling me free from the confines of the bottle. As my body takes on solid shape, and my lungs fill with fresh air, I peer through the film of blue haze before me.
I see a girl, young, before me. She is dressed strangely and there are objects about her which I have never seen before. My attention is taken to the girl. Pretty, very pretty, but I sense that unlike most, she is not vain or self-absorbed. Her expression is one I have seen before - surprise mixed with a little fear. The urge to laugh is strong, yet I have learned to control it by now.
Clasping my hands in front of me, I bow my head to my new Mistress.
"Mistress, my name is Khalia, and I am of the world of the genies. I am directed to granted you 3 wishes of your desire - anything you wish for shall be granted. I have been given powers that most humans cannot fathom, and they are at your disposal."
My eyes staring at her feet, I await her command....
I feel the strong pull from deep within the void, pulling me free from the confines of the bottle. As my body takes on solid shape, and my lungs fill with fresh air, I peer through the film of blue haze before me.
I see a girl, young, before me. She is dressed strangely and there are objects about her which I have never seen before. My attention is taken to the girl. Pretty, very pretty, but I sense that unlike most, she is not vain or self-absorbed. Her expression is one I have seen before - surprise mixed with a little fear. The urge to laugh is strong, yet I have learned to control it by now.
Clasping my hands in front of me, I bow my head to my new Mistress.
"Mistress, my name is Khalia, and I am of the world of the genies. I am directed to granted you 3 wishes of your desire - anything you wish for shall be granted. I have been given powers that most humans cannot fathom, and they are at your disposal."
My eyes staring at her feet, I await her command....
(((((((bump)))))))
OOC: Panty Tease, are you out there somewhere?
If so, and are unable to post at the moment, please contact me. If I don't hear from Panty Tease by tomorrow evening (1/5), I will be opening this thread up for another owner, and Bombast will have the first opportunity.
OOC: Panty Tease, are you out there somewhere?
If so, and are unable to post at the moment, please contact me. If I don't hear from Panty Tease by tomorrow evening (1/5), I will be opening this thread up for another owner, and Bombast will have the first opportunity.
artful
*His eyes as an Eagle's*
- Joined
- Dec 24, 2001
- Posts
- 4,364
The Role of Owner
OOC:
I am a late niter,and EARLY a.m.poster.Though I often post during the day also,and if you wake up this morning and find you have not been contacted,I would like to have you grant me three wishes.
May all your "Close Encounters" be of the BEST kind !
Love...........................................Art
OOC:
I am a late niter,and EARLY a.m.poster.Though I often post during the day also,and if you wake up this morning and find you have not been contacted,I would like to have you grant me three wishes.
May all your "Close Encounters" be of the BEST kind !
Love...........................................Art
bombast
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2001
- Posts
- 142
Montgomery Kingsley, traveller
OOC: Montgomery Kingsley is a scion from a wealthy British family (whose wealth stems back hundreds of years, and no one quite knows how it was acquired or what keeps it going, but it does). He is about 6 feet, 180 pounds, lanky but solid. His eyes are glacier blue, his skin milky white, as, even when he is in the sun, he covers himself well. People often mistake him for T.E. Lawrence (of Arabia). He is dressed always in khakis -- pants, shorts, shirts. This is his wardrobe when he travels, and he always travels, and he always travels to ancient lands in the middle east.
The year is 1927. Monty is in Morocco. The French control the territory, and he is fluent in French, Arabic (many dialects), Aramaic, and Hebrew. He is not an archeologist, but he knows ...
We are now in Marrakesh, in the souk.
IC:
I step from the cafe, look at the massive waves of human traffic in all directions, and take a deep, deep breath. I love it here. The scent of bags and bags of spices drifts through the air. The sound of sheep being led to the slaughter, of camels and asses carrying their burderns adds to the din. The Muezzin has just called for late morning prayers -- but the market stays busy. Commerce has always come before religion here.
I'm back in Marrakesh. I haven't been here since the war. Not much has changed here, thank god. The fighting was pretty much away from the old city.
I take a step and get into the flow of the traffic. I dodge bicycles and children. What I do see has me enraptured -- I forgot how lovely the women are, those that you can see, that is. The French have certainly had a modernizing affect here. Many of the women walk around with their face uncovered. What I see melts me.
The women, with their olive skin, their dark eyes, their black hair. They are a mystery to me, not like the women hanging around me at home, all dressed up and going nowhere.
I keep walking when something catches my eye. It was a glint, or a movement in a shop doorway down an alleyway. As I turn, I see a beautiful slip of a woman disappear inside, a full bearded man look behind her, seemingly to make sure no one followed her. This I needed to explore.
As I entered, I was blinded by the darkness. My eyes had to adjust. When they did, I saw a room absolutely brimming with ... things. My eyes roamed over the shelves and piles of accumulated treasure, feasting on the unaccustomed shapes. Then, gradually, like faces across a darkened room, things began to emerge. The first were giant wooden pestles in narrow mortars three feet high, their rims smooth from generations of labor. Around them crowded families of crater-like vessels of clay and metal, withces' cauldrons and, in a dusty alcove, an exiled community of small samovars. From wall to wall there were brass trays with fluid Arabic script engraved across them. There were swords from wars fought that didn't even have names. There were muskets and knives and bayonettes and pistols. And there were bottles. Row upon row of these bottles, all different colors and shapes. Some were filled with powders, others with liquids. The light shone through some, and others blocked the light.
And then my eyes stopped. The rest of the store faded into an undetectable background. Here was a bottle that absorbed the light. It's luminescent blue shone as if there a thousand suns inside the bottle. I walked over to it, picked it up, and it was then I felt the presence of another person.
"That bottle is for you," the bearded man said. "You have clearly come for it, and it has shone for you."
"How much," I asked, jaded from years of dealings in these bazaars.
"No. You take it. You take it with you. It is for you. I have been holding on to it for many many years, but no one has seemed to notice it before. This one is for you." With that, he grabbed my arm, stil holding the bottle, and led me out of the store. "You must take it and go."
And that is how I came into posession of the bottle that changed my life forever.
Back in the small apartment where I was staying, I put the bottle on the table to examine it. The first thing I noticed was how dusty it was. I brought a cloth down on it to wipe it clean, and as I did, it started to shake and glow even brighter. And then it happened.
She appeared.
OOC: Montgomery Kingsley is a scion from a wealthy British family (whose wealth stems back hundreds of years, and no one quite knows how it was acquired or what keeps it going, but it does). He is about 6 feet, 180 pounds, lanky but solid. His eyes are glacier blue, his skin milky white, as, even when he is in the sun, he covers himself well. People often mistake him for T.E. Lawrence (of Arabia). He is dressed always in khakis -- pants, shorts, shirts. This is his wardrobe when he travels, and he always travels, and he always travels to ancient lands in the middle east.
The year is 1927. Monty is in Morocco. The French control the territory, and he is fluent in French, Arabic (many dialects), Aramaic, and Hebrew. He is not an archeologist, but he knows ...
We are now in Marrakesh, in the souk.
IC:
I step from the cafe, look at the massive waves of human traffic in all directions, and take a deep, deep breath. I love it here. The scent of bags and bags of spices drifts through the air. The sound of sheep being led to the slaughter, of camels and asses carrying their burderns adds to the din. The Muezzin has just called for late morning prayers -- but the market stays busy. Commerce has always come before religion here.
I'm back in Marrakesh. I haven't been here since the war. Not much has changed here, thank god. The fighting was pretty much away from the old city.
I take a step and get into the flow of the traffic. I dodge bicycles and children. What I do see has me enraptured -- I forgot how lovely the women are, those that you can see, that is. The French have certainly had a modernizing affect here. Many of the women walk around with their face uncovered. What I see melts me.
The women, with their olive skin, their dark eyes, their black hair. They are a mystery to me, not like the women hanging around me at home, all dressed up and going nowhere.
I keep walking when something catches my eye. It was a glint, or a movement in a shop doorway down an alleyway. As I turn, I see a beautiful slip of a woman disappear inside, a full bearded man look behind her, seemingly to make sure no one followed her. This I needed to explore.
As I entered, I was blinded by the darkness. My eyes had to adjust. When they did, I saw a room absolutely brimming with ... things. My eyes roamed over the shelves and piles of accumulated treasure, feasting on the unaccustomed shapes. Then, gradually, like faces across a darkened room, things began to emerge. The first were giant wooden pestles in narrow mortars three feet high, their rims smooth from generations of labor. Around them crowded families of crater-like vessels of clay and metal, withces' cauldrons and, in a dusty alcove, an exiled community of small samovars. From wall to wall there were brass trays with fluid Arabic script engraved across them. There were swords from wars fought that didn't even have names. There were muskets and knives and bayonettes and pistols. And there were bottles. Row upon row of these bottles, all different colors and shapes. Some were filled with powders, others with liquids. The light shone through some, and others blocked the light.
And then my eyes stopped. The rest of the store faded into an undetectable background. Here was a bottle that absorbed the light. It's luminescent blue shone as if there a thousand suns inside the bottle. I walked over to it, picked it up, and it was then I felt the presence of another person.
"That bottle is for you," the bearded man said. "You have clearly come for it, and it has shone for you."
"How much," I asked, jaded from years of dealings in these bazaars.
"No. You take it. You take it with you. It is for you. I have been holding on to it for many many years, but no one has seemed to notice it before. This one is for you." With that, he grabbed my arm, stil holding the bottle, and led me out of the store. "You must take it and go."
And that is how I came into posession of the bottle that changed my life forever.
Back in the small apartment where I was staying, I put the bottle on the table to examine it. The first thing I noticed was how dusty it was. I brought a cloth down on it to wipe it clean, and as I did, it started to shake and glow even brighter. And then it happened.
She appeared.
Khalia
As the void once more seemed to evaporate, I felt my energy pulled from the confines of the bottle. As fresh air once again filled lungs that had become human, I watch as the blue vapor disappeared around me.
The room was nondescript. I glaced around quickly, taking in the rather strange surroundings and unfamilar objects. My eyes finally centered on the figure that sat before me. A foreigner to this part of the world, obviously. His pale skin would be something of slight fear, but the startling blue of his eyes held one captivated. Quite unlike anything I had seen before, I could not draw my eyes from them, and yet their piercing intensity drove a distinct wedge of discomfort from deep within me.
Forcing myself to look away, I stared at the toes of his shoes. I noticed he was strangely dressed, yet that was something I might find out later.
"I am Khalia, the genie of the blue bottle. I am directed to grant each owner of the bottle 3 wishes - anything of their desire. I have been given power that very few men can realize or hope for."
Looking up at him once more, my hands clasped in front of me, I find myself once more arrested by the clear blue of his eyes.
"You are owner of the bottle, and therefore you are Master of me. I await your desire and pleasure, Master."
Forcing myself to lower my eyes once more, I stare at his shoes, awaiting my first command....
As the void once more seemed to evaporate, I felt my energy pulled from the confines of the bottle. As fresh air once again filled lungs that had become human, I watch as the blue vapor disappeared around me.
The room was nondescript. I glaced around quickly, taking in the rather strange surroundings and unfamilar objects. My eyes finally centered on the figure that sat before me. A foreigner to this part of the world, obviously. His pale skin would be something of slight fear, but the startling blue of his eyes held one captivated. Quite unlike anything I had seen before, I could not draw my eyes from them, and yet their piercing intensity drove a distinct wedge of discomfort from deep within me.
Forcing myself to look away, I stared at the toes of his shoes. I noticed he was strangely dressed, yet that was something I might find out later.
"I am Khalia, the genie of the blue bottle. I am directed to grant each owner of the bottle 3 wishes - anything of their desire. I have been given power that very few men can realize or hope for."
Looking up at him once more, my hands clasped in front of me, I find myself once more arrested by the clear blue of his eyes.
"You are owner of the bottle, and therefore you are Master of me. I await your desire and pleasure, Master."
Forcing myself to lower my eyes once more, I stare at his shoes, awaiting my first command....
bombast
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2001
- Posts
- 142
Montgomery
OOC: OK, what I really wish for is a good cup of coffee, but ...
IC: What stood before me was the beautiful and chimeral woman I had ever seen. Her diaphanous gowns lit up the room, and her eyes seemed to take in everything they looked at.
I wasn't sure if I understood what she had said. I am her master? She awaits my wishes, whatever my desires and pleasures? Her name is Khalia. I had heard of that name before, from myth ... wasn't it? A story of a woman who had been commanded for eternity into servitude or some such nonesense. Surely this is some hoax or something.
But she stood before me, unmoving, her head down as if she were ... as if she were awaiting my instructions. I had a million questions.
"What do you mean, you await my orders? Where did you come from? Who are you? What do you mean wishes? Wishes for anything? How did you get in here? Are you serious?"
I knew deep inside that this was serious, that she was serious, but I couldn't match my feelings and my thoughts. I had to -- as I always had to -- have concrete answers.
But what if it were true? What would I wish for? Riches? Wealth? Knowledge? Beauty? As I went through the list, I thought of all the things i could do with money, all the sex I could have with beauty, the freedom I could have without relying on my family anymore for my annual stipend.
"You're telling me anything I want you can grant -- all the money in the world, the queen, world peace?" I asked incredulously.
I must slow down. Her posture, her presence indicate a truth I was hardly aware existed these days. After the war, with millions of dead, what I had witnessed, how can there ever really be any thruth in this world.
"If you can do what you say, there are many things I have seen and many I have done I would wish to go away. That is not a wish, but I need to understand it more. I spent four years in France, commanding troops in trenches, witnessing senseless death and the destruction of the most beautiful of art and lives. I am trained as a good soldier of the British Empire, and I did as I was told, and I saw who it affected.
"In fact, there was a woman in France, no, no. I don't want to go there yet.
"And tell me about yourself," I asked, now getting a bit flippant. "If I wish for you right here right now, I could have you, do with you whatever I wanted?"
I needed to understand more before I asked for my first wish -- as base as it seemed to me, it was clearly where I was heading: The Caliph's daughter, the incorruptable father and his incorruptable daughter. I may not be able to fix the past, but tyranny is tyranny, and maybe I could change the present...
"Well, anwer me."
OOC: OK, what I really wish for is a good cup of coffee, but ...
IC: What stood before me was the beautiful and chimeral woman I had ever seen. Her diaphanous gowns lit up the room, and her eyes seemed to take in everything they looked at.
I wasn't sure if I understood what she had said. I am her master? She awaits my wishes, whatever my desires and pleasures? Her name is Khalia. I had heard of that name before, from myth ... wasn't it? A story of a woman who had been commanded for eternity into servitude or some such nonesense. Surely this is some hoax or something.
But she stood before me, unmoving, her head down as if she were ... as if she were awaiting my instructions. I had a million questions.
"What do you mean, you await my orders? Where did you come from? Who are you? What do you mean wishes? Wishes for anything? How did you get in here? Are you serious?"
I knew deep inside that this was serious, that she was serious, but I couldn't match my feelings and my thoughts. I had to -- as I always had to -- have concrete answers.
But what if it were true? What would I wish for? Riches? Wealth? Knowledge? Beauty? As I went through the list, I thought of all the things i could do with money, all the sex I could have with beauty, the freedom I could have without relying on my family anymore for my annual stipend.
"You're telling me anything I want you can grant -- all the money in the world, the queen, world peace?" I asked incredulously.
I must slow down. Her posture, her presence indicate a truth I was hardly aware existed these days. After the war, with millions of dead, what I had witnessed, how can there ever really be any thruth in this world.
"If you can do what you say, there are many things I have seen and many I have done I would wish to go away. That is not a wish, but I need to understand it more. I spent four years in France, commanding troops in trenches, witnessing senseless death and the destruction of the most beautiful of art and lives. I am trained as a good soldier of the British Empire, and I did as I was told, and I saw who it affected.
"In fact, there was a woman in France, no, no. I don't want to go there yet.
"And tell me about yourself," I asked, now getting a bit flippant. "If I wish for you right here right now, I could have you, do with you whatever I wanted?"
I needed to understand more before I asked for my first wish -- as base as it seemed to me, it was clearly where I was heading: The Caliph's daughter, the incorruptable father and his incorruptable daughter. I may not be able to fix the past, but tyranny is tyranny, and maybe I could change the present...
"Well, anwer me."
Khalia
As he spoke I brought my eyes up to meet his. Curious, how one could ask so many different questions. I cocked my head to one side, his questions being absorbed into my being.
As he finished, I took a deep breath before his command to answer him. Steadily holding his gaze, I answer his questions....
"You are the owner of the bottle, therefore, whatever you order of me, I am compelled to obey. I was originally from the land of the Nile, until I was of 18 years. I was the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Cairo before I angered Ahmed, who cast a spell, putting me in the world of the genie. A wish can be a desire, a request, a change, a thought, and, yes, it can be for anything - my powers are great. I came from the bottle you were given. There - that one. And when your wishes are granted, I shall return to it, unless I am freed from the world of the genie. And, yes, I am serious.
"Yes, I can give the rishes of the world, the desire of your heart and loins, the power to rule the world. Anything you desire will be made yours. But, it is important that you choose wisely, for many have made foolish choices only to regret them."
Looking directly into his eyes, and seeing the calming blue reflected there, I continue.
"Yes, if your desire is for me, then it is me you shall have. Or, if you wish another, that can happen as well. If my form does not please you, that can be changed as well. I am at your service, Master."
Bowing my head slightly, I raise my chin with a slightly defiant air to gaze blatantly into his eyes and await his word.
As he spoke I brought my eyes up to meet his. Curious, how one could ask so many different questions. I cocked my head to one side, his questions being absorbed into my being.
As he finished, I took a deep breath before his command to answer him. Steadily holding his gaze, I answer his questions....
"You are the owner of the bottle, therefore, whatever you order of me, I am compelled to obey. I was originally from the land of the Nile, until I was of 18 years. I was the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Cairo before I angered Ahmed, who cast a spell, putting me in the world of the genie. A wish can be a desire, a request, a change, a thought, and, yes, it can be for anything - my powers are great. I came from the bottle you were given. There - that one. And when your wishes are granted, I shall return to it, unless I am freed from the world of the genie. And, yes, I am serious.
"Yes, I can give the rishes of the world, the desire of your heart and loins, the power to rule the world. Anything you desire will be made yours. But, it is important that you choose wisely, for many have made foolish choices only to regret them."
Looking directly into his eyes, and seeing the calming blue reflected there, I continue.
"Yes, if your desire is for me, then it is me you shall have. Or, if you wish another, that can happen as well. If my form does not please you, that can be changed as well. I am at your service, Master."
Bowing my head slightly, I raise my chin with a slightly defiant air to gaze blatantly into his eyes and await his word.
bombast
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2001
- Posts
- 142
Montgomery
For such a submissive woman, she seemed a bit ... cocky. Perhaps she could sense what I wanted, perhaps she could sense the mistakes I would make, the successes I would have ... and I doubt she would tell me.
She stood in the center of the room, aglow with ancient light. I paced around the carpet on which she stood, went to the sideboard poured myself a glass of spring water and rolled a cigarette. Moroccan tobacco was still a pleasure of mine.
I did all this deliberately, slowly. I wanted to think. I wanted the time to think. What is it? I had so many fantasies, but one name kept coming back to me over and over, it was the one thing I had wished from years ago.
I told her the story of Natasha.
When I started travelling the world, after the war, I was bid farewell by Natasha, my fiancee. When we parted, we knew it was temporary. She had waited for me all during the war, and saved herself for me. We lived in bliss after the war in the British country side, riding, walking, making love. We lived with my family in the estate that had been ours since the Normans invaded Britain.
But in the early 1920s I started to get wanderlust. I did not want to live the life I was leading. Though I begged her to come on these journeys, she always said they were not the place for proper British women of our class. We would part as lovers, then I would disappear into Africa or Asia for months. Our reunions were blissful, full of passion, love and sex. I brought home news of the world, and trinkets of precious stones and other rare items to her, and she would make herself mine all over again. She would never leave our manor, nor would she leave the manner to which she was accustomed.
It seemed so innocent, our life did. Naturally, when I was abroad I would explore all aspects of the country and people whom I was visiting. And naturally, I had on more than one occassion met a woman I fancied, and I learned so much from her, from each of them, from the delicate arts of the kama sutra to the techniques used by the Uighers in the steppes of Asia. Of course I brought it home to Natasha, and she enjoyed the gifts I brought to her -- ben wah balls from China, Rhinocerus powder from Africa, various shapes and sizes of dildos from all over the world. Our love making became huge, adventurous, satisfying. We would spend passionate hours together, until we were empty of energy, fluid, and kept alive only by the desire we had for one another.
Sundays were the best, for when the rest of my family and the servants all went to church, we would explore the house, running nude from room to room. It was a delight just to watch her.
She was not a tall woman, in fact she was petite, about 5 feet, perhaps a little taller. She may have tipped the scales at 100 pounds. Her tiny breasts stood out from her chest capped by brown nipples that would extend an inch when she was excited. She wore her her raven-black hair short, in a bob, a severe cut that framed her narrow diamond shaped face like a picture hanging in the Louvre. Her eyes were deep green. When she wore her green velvet dresses, her eyes lit up. Her waist was tiny, and her legs perfectly shaped, and between them was her sex, trimmed of all hair, small, with lips that sealed her perfectly. I always did love to seperate them to find her pleasure spot. And her delictible behind, which I had penetrated many times, was firm, round, and stood out -- she was small but she had the hips of a woman who was born to give birth.
We would chase each other through the house, and I would watch her, her breasts barely shaking as she ran. When I caught her, we would ravage each other, and this was when I usually taught her a new position, or a new technique -- something for her or me to do with her tongue or my hands or her feet or my holes or hers. We were caught many times by the servants who returned from church prior to my parents.
I loved her.
But apparently I wasn't enough, for on my last trip away from her, I returned unexpectedly early and found her in bed with my best friend, a man with whom I had attended school, a man I fought beside in the trenches of the Somme, a man who was to be my best man at the wedding Natasha was planning for us.
From that moment, our relationship died. We tried to keep it together, but the only woman I had loved, and the man I trusted the most, had abandoned me when I most needed their support.
Natasha and I tried to make a go of it, but she became distant, and the more distant she became, the more needy and demanding I got. She would dress privately now, not showing me her body. She would bathe behind locked doors where before she had kept them open to my advances.
And the love-making had stopped.
Shortly after this, she moved out. The relationship -- with the most beautiful and sensuous women I have ever known -- was over.
Is over.
It is this wish I ask of you: I want to resolve the relationship, let her know of my anger, my hurt, and perhaps punish her, and I want to absorb what she has to give. I want to release the feelings I have for this unresolved relationship.
Since that time, I have had many women, in many countries of the world. But if they turn to me in love, I turn them out, just as the ones I turn to in love turn me away.
This is my weakness that can only be strengthened by resolving my feelings toward Natasha.
For this I turn to you to make my first wish come true. Bring Natasha to me, dressed as she was when I last saw her, so I can ravage her, punish her, love her, finish with her, and she can do the same to me.
Then I will be stronger, and then I will ask for a second wish.
For such a submissive woman, she seemed a bit ... cocky. Perhaps she could sense what I wanted, perhaps she could sense the mistakes I would make, the successes I would have ... and I doubt she would tell me.
She stood in the center of the room, aglow with ancient light. I paced around the carpet on which she stood, went to the sideboard poured myself a glass of spring water and rolled a cigarette. Moroccan tobacco was still a pleasure of mine.
I did all this deliberately, slowly. I wanted to think. I wanted the time to think. What is it? I had so many fantasies, but one name kept coming back to me over and over, it was the one thing I had wished from years ago.
I told her the story of Natasha.
When I started travelling the world, after the war, I was bid farewell by Natasha, my fiancee. When we parted, we knew it was temporary. She had waited for me all during the war, and saved herself for me. We lived in bliss after the war in the British country side, riding, walking, making love. We lived with my family in the estate that had been ours since the Normans invaded Britain.
But in the early 1920s I started to get wanderlust. I did not want to live the life I was leading. Though I begged her to come on these journeys, she always said they were not the place for proper British women of our class. We would part as lovers, then I would disappear into Africa or Asia for months. Our reunions were blissful, full of passion, love and sex. I brought home news of the world, and trinkets of precious stones and other rare items to her, and she would make herself mine all over again. She would never leave our manor, nor would she leave the manner to which she was accustomed.
It seemed so innocent, our life did. Naturally, when I was abroad I would explore all aspects of the country and people whom I was visiting. And naturally, I had on more than one occassion met a woman I fancied, and I learned so much from her, from each of them, from the delicate arts of the kama sutra to the techniques used by the Uighers in the steppes of Asia. Of course I brought it home to Natasha, and she enjoyed the gifts I brought to her -- ben wah balls from China, Rhinocerus powder from Africa, various shapes and sizes of dildos from all over the world. Our love making became huge, adventurous, satisfying. We would spend passionate hours together, until we were empty of energy, fluid, and kept alive only by the desire we had for one another.
Sundays were the best, for when the rest of my family and the servants all went to church, we would explore the house, running nude from room to room. It was a delight just to watch her.
She was not a tall woman, in fact she was petite, about 5 feet, perhaps a little taller. She may have tipped the scales at 100 pounds. Her tiny breasts stood out from her chest capped by brown nipples that would extend an inch when she was excited. She wore her her raven-black hair short, in a bob, a severe cut that framed her narrow diamond shaped face like a picture hanging in the Louvre. Her eyes were deep green. When she wore her green velvet dresses, her eyes lit up. Her waist was tiny, and her legs perfectly shaped, and between them was her sex, trimmed of all hair, small, with lips that sealed her perfectly. I always did love to seperate them to find her pleasure spot. And her delictible behind, which I had penetrated many times, was firm, round, and stood out -- she was small but she had the hips of a woman who was born to give birth.
We would chase each other through the house, and I would watch her, her breasts barely shaking as she ran. When I caught her, we would ravage each other, and this was when I usually taught her a new position, or a new technique -- something for her or me to do with her tongue or my hands or her feet or my holes or hers. We were caught many times by the servants who returned from church prior to my parents.
I loved her.
But apparently I wasn't enough, for on my last trip away from her, I returned unexpectedly early and found her in bed with my best friend, a man with whom I had attended school, a man I fought beside in the trenches of the Somme, a man who was to be my best man at the wedding Natasha was planning for us.
From that moment, our relationship died. We tried to keep it together, but the only woman I had loved, and the man I trusted the most, had abandoned me when I most needed their support.
Natasha and I tried to make a go of it, but she became distant, and the more distant she became, the more needy and demanding I got. She would dress privately now, not showing me her body. She would bathe behind locked doors where before she had kept them open to my advances.
And the love-making had stopped.
Shortly after this, she moved out. The relationship -- with the most beautiful and sensuous women I have ever known -- was over.
Is over.
It is this wish I ask of you: I want to resolve the relationship, let her know of my anger, my hurt, and perhaps punish her, and I want to absorb what she has to give. I want to release the feelings I have for this unresolved relationship.
Since that time, I have had many women, in many countries of the world. But if they turn to me in love, I turn them out, just as the ones I turn to in love turn me away.
This is my weakness that can only be strengthened by resolving my feelings toward Natasha.
For this I turn to you to make my first wish come true. Bring Natasha to me, dressed as she was when I last saw her, so I can ravage her, punish her, love her, finish with her, and she can do the same to me.
Then I will be stronger, and then I will ask for a second wish.
Khalia
I listened to his story with great interest. Having never known the true love of a man, I was always interested in hearing tales of love gained and lost - and I had heard many.
Natasha - a strange name, but I could see here clearly in my mind. Radiant and beautiful, in the full bloom of youth, a treasure and desire. And I could see the heart of the man in front of me - hard and cold, willing to punish this treasure for her wrongdoing.
But, he was my Master and not she. What occurred to her was of little concern to me. As he finished his story and what his wish was, I gathered my thoughts to myself.
"Master, when the clock strikes the next half hour, Natasha will be here, she will come to you as you have desired. As you have wished, so I will do."
Clutching the amulet between my breasts, I speak the ancient words that need to be said. Then glancing up at my Master, I smile.
"When your wish is complete, Master, simply open the bottle once again...."
As the blue vapors rose up before me, I felt the void pull my energy back into the bottle, to await my Master's call.
I listened to his story with great interest. Having never known the true love of a man, I was always interested in hearing tales of love gained and lost - and I had heard many.
Natasha - a strange name, but I could see here clearly in my mind. Radiant and beautiful, in the full bloom of youth, a treasure and desire. And I could see the heart of the man in front of me - hard and cold, willing to punish this treasure for her wrongdoing.
But, he was my Master and not she. What occurred to her was of little concern to me. As he finished his story and what his wish was, I gathered my thoughts to myself.
"Master, when the clock strikes the next half hour, Natasha will be here, she will come to you as you have desired. As you have wished, so I will do."
Clutching the amulet between my breasts, I speak the ancient words that need to be said. Then glancing up at my Master, I smile.
"When your wish is complete, Master, simply open the bottle once again...."
As the blue vapors rose up before me, I felt the void pull my energy back into the bottle, to await my Master's call.
Natasha
Whatever could one like or want about this god-forsaken country? What an absolutely horrid place!
As I step from the train, looking about what I'm told is Marrakesh. Exotic, mystifying, beautiful was how Monty had described it. I looked up at William, who was smiling down at me.
"Now, now, Natasha! I assure you, everything will be alright!"
Flipping open my parasol, I stepped up to the platform and waited for William to gather our trunks before heading to the hotel. I bite my lower lip as I started to drift in deep thought. Monty had been to this very city many times, in fact, I had been told he was here now - or was as of a week ago. Memories flooded my mind suddenly and unexpectedly.
A fine English manor house, riding horses in the countryside, romps with a handsome and dashing young Englishman who was to be my husband. But the world had meant more to him than I, and William was so near, so caring and attentive. It had not been as difficult as I had thought to fall into his arms - and into his bed. I knew I had hurt Monty terribly, but I mustn't forget that he had hurt me as well. All of his meanderings, running off to strange lands and leaving me alone in the coldness of the English countryside.
I remember our drifting apart, how I felt I betrayed Monty, the guilt. Eventually the day came when I moved out and left him. I had heard he left England and had not returned. Looking up, I see William returning with a porter and a handcart of our trunks. Putting on a smile, I try to appear the newly married, happy bride that I am. As he bends to kiss me, I give him my cheek, and I feel his dry lips brush the cheek bone.
"Come along, Natasha, darling. Let us get you out of this heat and into a hotel, shall we?"
I nod as I take his arm, and we climb into a waiting taxi. The hotel is luxurious for its surroundings, though not coming close to the granduer that we had experienced in Paris or Florence. As William checked in, I looked about the lobby - creaky ceiling fans gave the illusion of moving air, porters busily bustled about with luggage, and waiters brought drinks to dry, thirsty patrons. Feeling William's hand on my arm, he leads us to the lift, that takes us to the 3rd floor and our room. A special room, we are told.
As I walk in, I wonder what a regular room might look like. Sighing, I put down my parasol and take off my hat. How melancholy I've become. Quite not like me at all. I look at William trying to sort through our trunks. He is a good man, a good husband, I know. A woman would be lucky to have such a man. And yet, there was no true love for him in my heart. Thankfulness, yes. A certain fondness, certainly. But not the love that most brides feel on their honeymoons. Moving towards the window, I look out at the haze of afternoon sun, and wonder if I will, if I should.
"Well, my dear. I know that you will want to rest after that long trip, so I shall leave you to a nice long nap and take a trip to the salon for drink. I do believe Sir Edmonton is here. Perhaps I shall be able to speak with him."
"Yes, William, a nap will do me well, I believe. I've been a bit out of sorts, and perhaps I'm just tired."
"Yes, of course you are, my dear. Well, I shall see you later."
As he grasped my shoulders, he leaned down and kissed my temple lightly, before taking his hat and leaving. Looking about, I knew the reason for my melancholy state. And I knew what I had to do, though it was against all common sense. Rushing to one of the trunks, I flung it open, and quickly found what I wanted. Yes, that was it. The clothes he last saw me in.
Quickly peeling off the layers of clothing I had just worn, I dressed quickly. With the heat of the city, I decided to do away with undergarments. Instead, I rolled a pair of black stockings up each leg, securing them with a garter at each thigh. Then I slipped into the form-fitting white blouse with the high neckline. It might be a little warm, but at least the material was lightweight. Next, I pulled on the black skirt that reached almost to my ankles, and pulled on my boots. Lacing my boots quickly, I finished the ensemble with a matching black jacket, and placed my hat over my short dark hair.
Making my way out of the hotel undetected, I managed to hire a cab, and gave the driver the address. As we drove to the hotel, I felt my stomach in knots, my head spinning. Was I doing the right thing? What was I doing? Not too late to turn round, go back. Probably the best for it, actually.
"This is it, Miss."
Startled, I looked up at the hotel. Certainly nice, though not the most luxurious of accommodations.
"Yes, thank you, driver. Oh! Here, there you go. No, I shan't be needing you, thank you."
I step from the cab and enter the hotel. Looking neither left nor right, I take the lift to the top floor. My heart thudding in my chest, my breathing fast and shallow, I find the door to his room. Removing my hat, I hesitate only a moment. Then, raising my hand into a fist, I knock quickly....
Whatever could one like or want about this god-forsaken country? What an absolutely horrid place!
As I step from the train, looking about what I'm told is Marrakesh. Exotic, mystifying, beautiful was how Monty had described it. I looked up at William, who was smiling down at me.
"Now, now, Natasha! I assure you, everything will be alright!"
Flipping open my parasol, I stepped up to the platform and waited for William to gather our trunks before heading to the hotel. I bite my lower lip as I started to drift in deep thought. Monty had been to this very city many times, in fact, I had been told he was here now - or was as of a week ago. Memories flooded my mind suddenly and unexpectedly.
A fine English manor house, riding horses in the countryside, romps with a handsome and dashing young Englishman who was to be my husband. But the world had meant more to him than I, and William was so near, so caring and attentive. It had not been as difficult as I had thought to fall into his arms - and into his bed. I knew I had hurt Monty terribly, but I mustn't forget that he had hurt me as well. All of his meanderings, running off to strange lands and leaving me alone in the coldness of the English countryside.
I remember our drifting apart, how I felt I betrayed Monty, the guilt. Eventually the day came when I moved out and left him. I had heard he left England and had not returned. Looking up, I see William returning with a porter and a handcart of our trunks. Putting on a smile, I try to appear the newly married, happy bride that I am. As he bends to kiss me, I give him my cheek, and I feel his dry lips brush the cheek bone.
"Come along, Natasha, darling. Let us get you out of this heat and into a hotel, shall we?"
I nod as I take his arm, and we climb into a waiting taxi. The hotel is luxurious for its surroundings, though not coming close to the granduer that we had experienced in Paris or Florence. As William checked in, I looked about the lobby - creaky ceiling fans gave the illusion of moving air, porters busily bustled about with luggage, and waiters brought drinks to dry, thirsty patrons. Feeling William's hand on my arm, he leads us to the lift, that takes us to the 3rd floor and our room. A special room, we are told.
As I walk in, I wonder what a regular room might look like. Sighing, I put down my parasol and take off my hat. How melancholy I've become. Quite not like me at all. I look at William trying to sort through our trunks. He is a good man, a good husband, I know. A woman would be lucky to have such a man. And yet, there was no true love for him in my heart. Thankfulness, yes. A certain fondness, certainly. But not the love that most brides feel on their honeymoons. Moving towards the window, I look out at the haze of afternoon sun, and wonder if I will, if I should.
"Well, my dear. I know that you will want to rest after that long trip, so I shall leave you to a nice long nap and take a trip to the salon for drink. I do believe Sir Edmonton is here. Perhaps I shall be able to speak with him."
"Yes, William, a nap will do me well, I believe. I've been a bit out of sorts, and perhaps I'm just tired."
"Yes, of course you are, my dear. Well, I shall see you later."
As he grasped my shoulders, he leaned down and kissed my temple lightly, before taking his hat and leaving. Looking about, I knew the reason for my melancholy state. And I knew what I had to do, though it was against all common sense. Rushing to one of the trunks, I flung it open, and quickly found what I wanted. Yes, that was it. The clothes he last saw me in.
Quickly peeling off the layers of clothing I had just worn, I dressed quickly. With the heat of the city, I decided to do away with undergarments. Instead, I rolled a pair of black stockings up each leg, securing them with a garter at each thigh. Then I slipped into the form-fitting white blouse with the high neckline. It might be a little warm, but at least the material was lightweight. Next, I pulled on the black skirt that reached almost to my ankles, and pulled on my boots. Lacing my boots quickly, I finished the ensemble with a matching black jacket, and placed my hat over my short dark hair.
Making my way out of the hotel undetected, I managed to hire a cab, and gave the driver the address. As we drove to the hotel, I felt my stomach in knots, my head spinning. Was I doing the right thing? What was I doing? Not too late to turn round, go back. Probably the best for it, actually.
"This is it, Miss."
Startled, I looked up at the hotel. Certainly nice, though not the most luxurious of accommodations.
"Yes, thank you, driver. Oh! Here, there you go. No, I shan't be needing you, thank you."
I step from the cab and enter the hotel. Looking neither left nor right, I take the lift to the top floor. My heart thudding in my chest, my breathing fast and shallow, I find the door to his room. Removing my hat, I hesitate only a moment. Then, raising my hand into a fist, I knock quickly....
bombast
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2001
- Posts
- 142
Monty
OOC: SexyChele, your writing is so good ... evocative and passionate. Way to go.
IC:
The knocking startled me from my reverie. I had no idea what had happened. It seemed like I was waking from a deep sleep, but I was standing up. A blue haze permeated the room, bluer than the smoke drifting from my cigarette in the ashtray. And then I saw the bottle on the table and remembered ...
And the knocking continued.
I walked to the door, nervous ... could she have been telling the truth ... could it be ...
I opened it, and there she stood just as I remembered her, her beauty unmarked by time. She looked exactly as she did when I saw her back walking away from me. That night I was drunk, I was blurry eyed and thick-tongued, and never said what I wanted to sat most: I love you, we can make this work.
And because I had never said that, the love had turned bitter, had turned to hate and anger, and I had carried it with me for these past 5 years.
WH Auden wrote: "We must love one another or die." How I hated him. There I was loving her, she oblivious to my emotions, and we were both living.
It must have been hours before I said anything.
"Come in," I finally croaked out, and turned quickly back into the room. There were no formalities for me to offer.
I saw her looking around the room and I became acutely aware of the sparsity of it, and aware that it truly reflected the way I had been living since she left. There was nothing ornate in the room save the silk carpet on the floor, woven years ago ina small village in the Sahara. Wood floors, a wooden table, two chairs, slats for a bed with a cotton mattress. The linen was threadbare, and the curtains held nothing but dust, and it was that dust that kept the light out. On those rare ocassions a breeze would enter the room for the windows, it stirred the dust from the curtains. Mostly I kept the shutters closed. It suited me more.
She entered and I heard the door close behind her. I turned to face her with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of rose water in the other.
"Welcome to paradise," I said. "If you're wondering why I am not suprised you are here, it's because I knew you would come." She gave me a look of confusion and disdain, as if she knew too that she would end up here, and worse, she could not stop herself. One thing I remembered about her is she hated to be out of control of the situations she found herself in.
"Please sit. I have no liquor to offer you. I finally gave up that nonsense. Water?"
She nodded, and I walked to the sideboard, picked up the green bottle and poured her some of the rose-flavored water I was drinking. This alone kept my senses clear. My hand shook as I poured, I hoped she did not see.
I handed her the water and noticed that she had a wedding ring on.
"So, you must belong to William now. How ... fitting," I spit out at her. She looked down and said nothing.
I took a seat on the bed, across from her in the wooden chair. She looked so prim and appropriate for any environment except this one. She was clearly feeling out of sorts.
I saw her look at all my manuscripts spread out on my desk.
"Yes, I've been writing. I have a lot to say. All those trips weren't just for nothing, you know. But you wouldn't know, would you? I mean, all you ever cared about was what I brought back for you."
I felt bad about that one. She was always iterested in what I was doing. In fact it was that interest that led to our split. I was never there for her, but then, she was never with me when I wanted her to be.
"So, have you come here to brag about your life now? And where is William?"
With that, I shut up, laid down on the bed, and put my arm over my eyes.
OOC: SexyChele, your writing is so good ... evocative and passionate. Way to go.
IC:
The knocking startled me from my reverie. I had no idea what had happened. It seemed like I was waking from a deep sleep, but I was standing up. A blue haze permeated the room, bluer than the smoke drifting from my cigarette in the ashtray. And then I saw the bottle on the table and remembered ...
And the knocking continued.
I walked to the door, nervous ... could she have been telling the truth ... could it be ...
I opened it, and there she stood just as I remembered her, her beauty unmarked by time. She looked exactly as she did when I saw her back walking away from me. That night I was drunk, I was blurry eyed and thick-tongued, and never said what I wanted to sat most: I love you, we can make this work.
And because I had never said that, the love had turned bitter, had turned to hate and anger, and I had carried it with me for these past 5 years.
WH Auden wrote: "We must love one another or die." How I hated him. There I was loving her, she oblivious to my emotions, and we were both living.
It must have been hours before I said anything.
"Come in," I finally croaked out, and turned quickly back into the room. There were no formalities for me to offer.
I saw her looking around the room and I became acutely aware of the sparsity of it, and aware that it truly reflected the way I had been living since she left. There was nothing ornate in the room save the silk carpet on the floor, woven years ago ina small village in the Sahara. Wood floors, a wooden table, two chairs, slats for a bed with a cotton mattress. The linen was threadbare, and the curtains held nothing but dust, and it was that dust that kept the light out. On those rare ocassions a breeze would enter the room for the windows, it stirred the dust from the curtains. Mostly I kept the shutters closed. It suited me more.
She entered and I heard the door close behind her. I turned to face her with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of rose water in the other.
"Welcome to paradise," I said. "If you're wondering why I am not suprised you are here, it's because I knew you would come." She gave me a look of confusion and disdain, as if she knew too that she would end up here, and worse, she could not stop herself. One thing I remembered about her is she hated to be out of control of the situations she found herself in.
"Please sit. I have no liquor to offer you. I finally gave up that nonsense. Water?"
She nodded, and I walked to the sideboard, picked up the green bottle and poured her some of the rose-flavored water I was drinking. This alone kept my senses clear. My hand shook as I poured, I hoped she did not see.
I handed her the water and noticed that she had a wedding ring on.
"So, you must belong to William now. How ... fitting," I spit out at her. She looked down and said nothing.
I took a seat on the bed, across from her in the wooden chair. She looked so prim and appropriate for any environment except this one. She was clearly feeling out of sorts.
I saw her look at all my manuscripts spread out on my desk.
"Yes, I've been writing. I have a lot to say. All those trips weren't just for nothing, you know. But you wouldn't know, would you? I mean, all you ever cared about was what I brought back for you."
I felt bad about that one. She was always iterested in what I was doing. In fact it was that interest that led to our split. I was never there for her, but then, she was never with me when I wanted her to be.
"So, have you come here to brag about your life now? And where is William?"
With that, I shut up, laid down on the bed, and put my arm over my eyes.
Natasha
His words stung, harsh and deep. Some I knew I deserved, some I knew came from pain. I thought I knew the words I would say when I saw him, but when he opened that door, when his blue eyes pierced my soul, I found my voice had escaped me.
And, now, here I sit, as though a total stranger, rather than facing the man I once was in love with. Maybe still in love with?
NO! No, Natasha! Not there. Not now!
I watched as he laid down, his arm across his eyes. Yes, perhaps it best we not truly look upon each other. I take a sip of water, allowing it's wetness soothe my parched throat. Staring into the glass, I search for words that have long fled.
"William does not know that I've come here, and I rely on your discretion not to tell him. It would prove......indelicate, I'm afraid."
Sighing, get up from my chair, and wander over to the window and open one of the shutters. Oh why was there never anything pleasant to look upon from these windows in this land?
"Yes, I married William, Monty. I was lost, alone, confused. He has given me stability in my life, and I've needed that. He brings order where once there was chaos. For that, I'm thankful."
Taking another sip of water, I look down as a woman shrouded from head to foot made her way down the street with 2 children in tow.
"I don't know why I've come, Monty. Wasn't even certain when I secured your address before leaving home. I guess I wanted to put things to rights between us - after all, it's been 5 years. Or maybe to ask your forgiveness, or see if you would take mine. Or maybe just to add more fuel to the hate that has built between us."
I hung my head, shutting my eyes against the glare of the sun and heat of emotion rising up within me. Quickly shutting the shutter, the room once more is plunged into dimness.
Walking over to the table, I glance at the hand-written manuscripts laid out on the table. I recognize easily Monty's precise handwriting - and my heart skipped a beat at the times I'd seen a letter arrive with just that same writing - only my name, written in his hand.
Skimming through several pages, I glance up at Monty only to find his position unchanged. Has he even heard me? Has he fallen asleep?
Holding up a sheet, I glance at him once more.
"Quite well written, you know. These should make for an excellent book."
"Put them down! Now!"
Startled at the tone of his voice, I quickly replace the sheet of paper on the table. Monty has sat up on the bed and is glaring at me. Not sure where to look besides those piercing eyes, I look down at my water.
"Sorry I snapped," he quipped, "but those pages are in a certain order, and I don't wish them to be disturbed."
"Yes, Monty, I quite understand. I'm sorry, truly."
I felt flustered, and suddenly wished I could loosen the collar of my blouse. Walking back to the chair, I sit on its edge, looking at the man lying prone before me.
"Monty, won't you at least talk to me? Even if it is to tell me to leave?"
I hoped he would not tell me to leave, and yet, I knew if I stayed the love that had been hidden for 5 years might once again resurface...
His words stung, harsh and deep. Some I knew I deserved, some I knew came from pain. I thought I knew the words I would say when I saw him, but when he opened that door, when his blue eyes pierced my soul, I found my voice had escaped me.
And, now, here I sit, as though a total stranger, rather than facing the man I once was in love with. Maybe still in love with?
NO! No, Natasha! Not there. Not now!
I watched as he laid down, his arm across his eyes. Yes, perhaps it best we not truly look upon each other. I take a sip of water, allowing it's wetness soothe my parched throat. Staring into the glass, I search for words that have long fled.
"William does not know that I've come here, and I rely on your discretion not to tell him. It would prove......indelicate, I'm afraid."
Sighing, get up from my chair, and wander over to the window and open one of the shutters. Oh why was there never anything pleasant to look upon from these windows in this land?
"Yes, I married William, Monty. I was lost, alone, confused. He has given me stability in my life, and I've needed that. He brings order where once there was chaos. For that, I'm thankful."
Taking another sip of water, I look down as a woman shrouded from head to foot made her way down the street with 2 children in tow.
"I don't know why I've come, Monty. Wasn't even certain when I secured your address before leaving home. I guess I wanted to put things to rights between us - after all, it's been 5 years. Or maybe to ask your forgiveness, or see if you would take mine. Or maybe just to add more fuel to the hate that has built between us."
I hung my head, shutting my eyes against the glare of the sun and heat of emotion rising up within me. Quickly shutting the shutter, the room once more is plunged into dimness.
Walking over to the table, I glance at the hand-written manuscripts laid out on the table. I recognize easily Monty's precise handwriting - and my heart skipped a beat at the times I'd seen a letter arrive with just that same writing - only my name, written in his hand.
Skimming through several pages, I glance up at Monty only to find his position unchanged. Has he even heard me? Has he fallen asleep?
Holding up a sheet, I glance at him once more.
"Quite well written, you know. These should make for an excellent book."
"Put them down! Now!"
Startled at the tone of his voice, I quickly replace the sheet of paper on the table. Monty has sat up on the bed and is glaring at me. Not sure where to look besides those piercing eyes, I look down at my water.
"Sorry I snapped," he quipped, "but those pages are in a certain order, and I don't wish them to be disturbed."
"Yes, Monty, I quite understand. I'm sorry, truly."
I felt flustered, and suddenly wished I could loosen the collar of my blouse. Walking back to the chair, I sit on its edge, looking at the man lying prone before me.
"Monty, won't you at least talk to me? Even if it is to tell me to leave?"
I hoped he would not tell me to leave, and yet, I knew if I stayed the love that had been hidden for 5 years might once again resurface...
bombast
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2001
- Posts
- 142
Mongomery
She was poking around, and I was not ready for her to see the corners of my life. I wanted her to know nothing about me, but I wanted to know all about her. I was tired of fantasizing about the life whe was leading in my absence. I was tired of dreaming of the conversations we would have -- the witty and cruel torments I would lob her way, the tears she would shed.
She was not weak, Natasha wasn't. I knew that any cruelty I sent her way would come back to me, and I don't know if I felt ready to face that today.
I stayed on the bed, blocking out the light with my arm. I wanted a drink more than anything, but I hadn't had a sip in years. I wanted to feel the taste of bourbon stinging the back of my throat and warming me as it slid down to my stomach. I wanted to feel the freedom that it brought.
Why did I ask for her? What was I trying to prove?
Maybe Khalia was right; maybe it was man's nature to squander his wishes. Maybe asking for gold would have been better.
I heard her scrape the chair on the floor as she sat. I wanted her here, it was time to act.
"No, Natasha," I said in a gentle voice. "I will not ask you to leave."
Silence.
I removed my arm from my eyes, opened them to the harsh brightness of the room, turned my head to face her.
"I want you to stay."
Again silence. She sat stonily, clearly wanting to know more, to stay longer, but, like me, not quite knowing what was going to happen in the next instance.
I sat up. "I knew you married William. I knew you would. I knew that despite all the strength you had shown when we were together, you were nothing but a traditional woman, typical of our class, really. I thought at one point you would break the mold a bit, take a few chances, but no."
I knew how much she prized herself as independent. She had lobbied for years in London and the counties for women's suffrage. She always felt she could challenge a man on his own ground, or, better yet, make the ground hers. This was her weakness -- I wanted to push all the buttons I could.
She gasped a bit, blushed and stood up.
"I did not come her to be abused. If I wanted that, I could have stayed at the hotel with William ...."
"Ah, yes, let's talk about William. Is he still playing tennis with my mother and father? Is he still summering at their home, with you? Is he still trying to be me? You know he is just a pale reflection of what you wanted once, of me."
"How dare you -- " she stood up. "You left home, you left me. Time and time and time again, you were always rushing off to be somewhere other than with me." She was standing over the bed, looking at me, flushed with anger.
I stood up. I felt the rage boil up in me, starting at my stomach, working its way to my chest. I wanted to scream at her. Instead, I clenched my teeth, and walked over to the desk. Stay calm. Stay calm. I wanted that drink. I had a bottle in the desk. Dare I? Not yet, I thought. Always time for that later.
"I left you?" I hissed. "I was always leaving you? It seemed to me you were always welcome to join me. And more -- you seemed to enjoy the gifts I'd bring back to you. I though at least rather than rushing to William you could've fucked yourself with the dildos I brought back."
She turned toward me as if slapped. "You were always trying to force me to do that, weren't you. You were always trying to get mr to perform for you, weren't you? Well, I needed a warm body next to mine, someone who would listen to me -- all of me -- and not just my needs in the bedroom. Where were you when I was arrested?"
"Arrested?" I asked, a bit taken aback. "What the hell were you arrested for, adultery?"
"You bastard. You absolute bastard. I was arrested for marching on parliament for the right to vote. Did you even care what I was up to? Did you ever once ask to join me?"
"Join you doing what, playing silly games? Is that what you wanted? Here, have the right to vote. Have the right to be a man, for all I care. I always thought William was more interested in men, anyway. I must say I was quite suprised to see his cock inside you."
"You have no right to talk to me that way. You gave that up. You gave it up the first time you went away and came back with -- what did you call it? -- right, a new technique. I can only guess you discovered these techniques fucking your Asian or African whores. You know I put up with ..."
"Put up with what?" I yelled. I closed the gap between us quickly and grabbed her shoulders. I was getting drunk on my anger. "Put up with what? While I was out there, earning a living for us, digging in god forsaken tunnels at the ends of the earth, living in god forsaken conditions, you were nice and warm at home, playing footsy with my best friend." I held her tight, yelling in her face. She stood still, her head turned away from the onslaught of words. "And some friend he is ... you are perfect for one another."
She turned to me, her eyes boring into mine. "You must let me go this instant. I swear to you ..."
"What?"
"Let me go..."
I did. I pushed her on the bed, and she fell onto it sideways with her legs hanging off the side. I moved to stand over her, blocking her from getting up. "There, that's more like it. You're used to that position, aren't you?"
She was poking around, and I was not ready for her to see the corners of my life. I wanted her to know nothing about me, but I wanted to know all about her. I was tired of fantasizing about the life whe was leading in my absence. I was tired of dreaming of the conversations we would have -- the witty and cruel torments I would lob her way, the tears she would shed.
She was not weak, Natasha wasn't. I knew that any cruelty I sent her way would come back to me, and I don't know if I felt ready to face that today.
I stayed on the bed, blocking out the light with my arm. I wanted a drink more than anything, but I hadn't had a sip in years. I wanted to feel the taste of bourbon stinging the back of my throat and warming me as it slid down to my stomach. I wanted to feel the freedom that it brought.
Why did I ask for her? What was I trying to prove?
Maybe Khalia was right; maybe it was man's nature to squander his wishes. Maybe asking for gold would have been better.
I heard her scrape the chair on the floor as she sat. I wanted her here, it was time to act.
"No, Natasha," I said in a gentle voice. "I will not ask you to leave."
Silence.
I removed my arm from my eyes, opened them to the harsh brightness of the room, turned my head to face her.
"I want you to stay."
Again silence. She sat stonily, clearly wanting to know more, to stay longer, but, like me, not quite knowing what was going to happen in the next instance.
I sat up. "I knew you married William. I knew you would. I knew that despite all the strength you had shown when we were together, you were nothing but a traditional woman, typical of our class, really. I thought at one point you would break the mold a bit, take a few chances, but no."
I knew how much she prized herself as independent. She had lobbied for years in London and the counties for women's suffrage. She always felt she could challenge a man on his own ground, or, better yet, make the ground hers. This was her weakness -- I wanted to push all the buttons I could.
She gasped a bit, blushed and stood up.
"I did not come her to be abused. If I wanted that, I could have stayed at the hotel with William ...."
"Ah, yes, let's talk about William. Is he still playing tennis with my mother and father? Is he still summering at their home, with you? Is he still trying to be me? You know he is just a pale reflection of what you wanted once, of me."
"How dare you -- " she stood up. "You left home, you left me. Time and time and time again, you were always rushing off to be somewhere other than with me." She was standing over the bed, looking at me, flushed with anger.
I stood up. I felt the rage boil up in me, starting at my stomach, working its way to my chest. I wanted to scream at her. Instead, I clenched my teeth, and walked over to the desk. Stay calm. Stay calm. I wanted that drink. I had a bottle in the desk. Dare I? Not yet, I thought. Always time for that later.
"I left you?" I hissed. "I was always leaving you? It seemed to me you were always welcome to join me. And more -- you seemed to enjoy the gifts I'd bring back to you. I though at least rather than rushing to William you could've fucked yourself with the dildos I brought back."
She turned toward me as if slapped. "You were always trying to force me to do that, weren't you. You were always trying to get mr to perform for you, weren't you? Well, I needed a warm body next to mine, someone who would listen to me -- all of me -- and not just my needs in the bedroom. Where were you when I was arrested?"
"Arrested?" I asked, a bit taken aback. "What the hell were you arrested for, adultery?"
"You bastard. You absolute bastard. I was arrested for marching on parliament for the right to vote. Did you even care what I was up to? Did you ever once ask to join me?"
"Join you doing what, playing silly games? Is that what you wanted? Here, have the right to vote. Have the right to be a man, for all I care. I always thought William was more interested in men, anyway. I must say I was quite suprised to see his cock inside you."
"You have no right to talk to me that way. You gave that up. You gave it up the first time you went away and came back with -- what did you call it? -- right, a new technique. I can only guess you discovered these techniques fucking your Asian or African whores. You know I put up with ..."
"Put up with what?" I yelled. I closed the gap between us quickly and grabbed her shoulders. I was getting drunk on my anger. "Put up with what? While I was out there, earning a living for us, digging in god forsaken tunnels at the ends of the earth, living in god forsaken conditions, you were nice and warm at home, playing footsy with my best friend." I held her tight, yelling in her face. She stood still, her head turned away from the onslaught of words. "And some friend he is ... you are perfect for one another."
She turned to me, her eyes boring into mine. "You must let me go this instant. I swear to you ..."
"What?"
"Let me go..."
I did. I pushed her on the bed, and she fell onto it sideways with her legs hanging off the side. I moved to stand over her, blocking her from getting up. "There, that's more like it. You're used to that position, aren't you?"
Natasha
As my body slammed into the bed, I felt the breath leave my lungs. Struggling to regain my breathing, I glanced up at Monty bearing down over me. Wrestling with the mattress, I attempted to sit upright when Monty pushed hard against my shoulder, once more shoving me deep into the mattress.
"NO! That's where all whores belong, don't they? In bed!"
"Monty, let me go -"
"Yes, I'll let you go, when I'm damn good and ready to let you go!"
Suddenly his weight was on top of me, his long body stretched out against mine. His hands cruelly roamed my body as his lips crushed against mine. Trying to push him away and squirm out from under him proved futile, and my screams were muffled against his lips and tongue. I began to pummel his back with my fists, until his raised his head. Ready to scream, his hand quickly covered my mouth.
"My dear, you must understand something about these types of establishments. Nobody cares if you scream - nobody at all!"
Shocked I look up at him as he grabbed both of my hands and held both my wrists easily in one of his. Stretching them above my head, his lips once again found mine as his hand resumed its exploration.
Squirming, muffled protests under his mouth, I found his body held me immobile. As his hand slid up my leg under my skirt, he lifted his head and smiled.
"What is this? Such a properly brought up lady not wearing the appropriate undergarments? Shame on you, Natasha!"
"You bastard! I came here to try to make amends. Hate me if you must! But don't do this - not here, not now, not this way!"
Laughter greeted my ears as he cruelly pinched the tender skin of my exposed thigh, causing me to gasp and let out a small scream.
As my body slammed into the bed, I felt the breath leave my lungs. Struggling to regain my breathing, I glanced up at Monty bearing down over me. Wrestling with the mattress, I attempted to sit upright when Monty pushed hard against my shoulder, once more shoving me deep into the mattress.
"NO! That's where all whores belong, don't they? In bed!"
"Monty, let me go -"
"Yes, I'll let you go, when I'm damn good and ready to let you go!"
Suddenly his weight was on top of me, his long body stretched out against mine. His hands cruelly roamed my body as his lips crushed against mine. Trying to push him away and squirm out from under him proved futile, and my screams were muffled against his lips and tongue. I began to pummel his back with my fists, until his raised his head. Ready to scream, his hand quickly covered my mouth.
"My dear, you must understand something about these types of establishments. Nobody cares if you scream - nobody at all!"
Shocked I look up at him as he grabbed both of my hands and held both my wrists easily in one of his. Stretching them above my head, his lips once again found mine as his hand resumed its exploration.
Squirming, muffled protests under his mouth, I found his body held me immobile. As his hand slid up my leg under my skirt, he lifted his head and smiled.
"What is this? Such a properly brought up lady not wearing the appropriate undergarments? Shame on you, Natasha!"
"You bastard! I came here to try to make amends. Hate me if you must! But don't do this - not here, not now, not this way!"
Laughter greeted my ears as he cruelly pinched the tender skin of my exposed thigh, causing me to gasp and let out a small scream.
bombast
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2001
- Posts
- 142
Montgomery
All at once my passion was enmeshed with my anger, and seeing her prone on the bed brought it all to the surface. I collapsed on her, and I was going to convince her ... of something.
We had played this way before, she objecting strenuously, me overcoming her objections. It was one of the many games we had those years ago. I wasn't paying too much attention at this moment to whether she was still playing the game.
As soon as my hands touched her, the familiar lines and curves and smoothness came back to me. I had been with many women since the last time Natasha and I saw each other. Many were whores, many were schemers, and many just in it for the same reasons I was, a quick burst of pleasure followed by days of silence.
But the feelings now became overwhelming. I wanted to force myself into her with such force that I would leave some kind of permanent mark. And yet I didn't want to hurt her at all, I wanted to comfort her and let her know she was back where she belonged.
I pinched her thigh, and she screamed. I forced her skirt farther up her legs and grabbed hold of her silk lace panties and I ripped them off. She sobbed a bit, biting my shoulder. She continued to writhe under me as I took my hand and placed it on her sex.
"Stop," she sobbed, "Please stop." But she was losing energy, and as her last words came out, her body seemed to relax as if she knew all that was going to happen was inevitable.
"This isn't how William does it, is it?" I whispered into her ear.
Silence. I pushed my finger into her hole, and found it moist -- as if she anticipated the pleasure. Silence.
"I asked you a question?" I rammed another finger inside her, and she jumped. "This isn't how William does it, is it?"
She shook her head no.
"But we used to do this, didn't we? And we liked it, didn't we?" Again silence. I put a third finger inside her, and though I tried to put it in forcefully, she was getting wet enough now that it slid right in. My thumb rested on her firm and tender rosebud, stroking it slowly in circles. Her thighs moved -- voluntarily? -- to meet my motions.
"Yes, Monty, we used to do this, and we used to like it. But it is not the same anymore, is it?" I pulled out my hand from her cunt.
Anger. "No you little bitch, it isn't the same anymore. I know Ihave no right to your body, to your pleasure, but here you are, here I am -- " The full weight of my body was now on her. I pushed myself up with my arms, and with great force I ripped open her short, exposing a little silk bra and her gorgeous tiny breasts, milky white, soft, so perfect. " -- and it looks like we're going to do this regardless of what it used to be like, aren't we, dear?"
"Please, Monty ... "
I stood up, and she lay on the bed, her skirt pushed all the way up past her pussy, draping the material off the bed and all around her. Her shirt was torn open, and the whiteness of all that skin practically glowed in the darkened room. She lay there, I could hear her measured steady breathing.
"I'm sorry Nat," I said, using her name the way I used to use it: with tenderness. "I'm sorry, but we must do this, I must do this. You came here for a reason -- " that I alone knew " -- and I believe this is why."
With that I unhooked my trousers, let them fall to the floor. I undid my shirt and took off my boxers. I was standing naked, my cock throbbing and sticking out stiff and strong.
"Stand up and get out of those clothes." Pause. "I said stand up," my voice came out in a loud burst, clearly startling her, clearly indicating that she was not in control.
She stood, unhooked the skirt, let her shirt and bra fall to the floor, and she stood a foot in front of me, naked, glowing. I could smell her scent, her sweat and perfume, and feel her heat.
"You really are a bastard, aren't you?" She hissed. "Is this all you wanted from me? Is this all I was to you, a little ... sex toy? Just like the ones you would bring me home, only I was.."
I slapped her. I had never done that before, but clearly my rage was taking over from my passion. I slapped her and she fell back dumbfounded onto the bed.
"Shut up you whore." And with that, I pushed her back down, straddled her midriff and held my cock over her lips. "Remember this? You used to love to take me into your mouth from this position." I put one hand behind me and found her pussy again. Her wetness had only increased.
I started fucking her with my fingers as I pushed my cock onto her lips. Perhaps she realized the futility of the situation, or perhaps my fingers were exciting her. Regardless, she opened her mouth, and with her tongue, she coated the head of my cock with her warm saliva. She lifted her head up, put pillows underneath it, and took me into her mouth.
It all came rushing back to me.
As she sucked on me, taking me in ever farther with each thrust forward of her head, I put my fingers in her deeper and deeper. When the feelings were beginning to get too intense, I pulled myself out of her mouth, swung my body around, shoved my cock back in and took her pussy in my mouth. We were like yin and yang again, swirling around each other, and certainly complementing each other. As I licked and sucked on her sweet sweet pussy, she sucked and licked with greater intensity.
Her hips started bucking up as I tongued her clit. With my fingers, I continued to fuck her until her juices were running out of her cunt, down her ass crack and soaking the bed beneath her. I let my fingers roam until I found her tiny, tiny, puckered ass hole, and with her own lubrication, I shoved two fingers in. With that she flinched, but though she could have, she did not bite down on my cock in retribution. Instead she thrust her hips to stay in contact with my mouth and let out a slow moan.
I had her pinned to the bed, and I was ministering to her three holes. She was writhing again, but this time it seemed like she was pleased.
As she got wetter and wetter, and her hips moved faster and faster, and I fingered her ass deeper and deeper, it was clear to me she was going to climax. Her moans had become pants. She could not keep my cock in her mouth. She was rubbing it over her lips and her chin, moaning, panting, and then she let out a low, deep moan that sounded like it originated from where my mouth and fingers were, travelled up through her body, and came out like a primal release.
Her whole body tensed, she moaned, and she climaxed. As she did, she was squeezing my cock, popping it in and out of her mouth, all the time stroking me. I knew I was going to come as well. As she went through orgasm after orgasm, my fluids began boiling up in me, spreading from my balls to my cock. I knew I was going to spurt big, and she knew it too.
She stroked faster and harder, using her mouth and both hands. I kept my mouth on her pussy and my fingers in her ass. She stroked and sucked until I could not hold in any longs and I released a stream of jizm that covered her chin, her lips, her cheeks and her hair. I released a second, and she had put her lips around me taking all of it in her mouth. She sucked and sucked until I had no more to give.
With that, we collapsed, momentarily spent. My face was covered in her juiced, hers in mine. I turned around, and we kissed. We kissed for the first time in years and it felt like the first time, period. I licked the cum from her face and she sucked it off my tongue. She cleaned my mouth and chin with her tongue. And we kissed, all of our flavors mixing.
It wasn't but a moment until I was hard again. I wanted to dump my seed in her very badly, and to plunge my cock in her until she is doubled over in pleasure.
But I needed a moments rest. We lay very still, her hand gently stroking me, the tears streaming down her face.
All at once my passion was enmeshed with my anger, and seeing her prone on the bed brought it all to the surface. I collapsed on her, and I was going to convince her ... of something.
We had played this way before, she objecting strenuously, me overcoming her objections. It was one of the many games we had those years ago. I wasn't paying too much attention at this moment to whether she was still playing the game.
As soon as my hands touched her, the familiar lines and curves and smoothness came back to me. I had been with many women since the last time Natasha and I saw each other. Many were whores, many were schemers, and many just in it for the same reasons I was, a quick burst of pleasure followed by days of silence.
But the feelings now became overwhelming. I wanted to force myself into her with such force that I would leave some kind of permanent mark. And yet I didn't want to hurt her at all, I wanted to comfort her and let her know she was back where she belonged.
I pinched her thigh, and she screamed. I forced her skirt farther up her legs and grabbed hold of her silk lace panties and I ripped them off. She sobbed a bit, biting my shoulder. She continued to writhe under me as I took my hand and placed it on her sex.
"Stop," she sobbed, "Please stop." But she was losing energy, and as her last words came out, her body seemed to relax as if she knew all that was going to happen was inevitable.
"This isn't how William does it, is it?" I whispered into her ear.
Silence. I pushed my finger into her hole, and found it moist -- as if she anticipated the pleasure. Silence.
"I asked you a question?" I rammed another finger inside her, and she jumped. "This isn't how William does it, is it?"
She shook her head no.
"But we used to do this, didn't we? And we liked it, didn't we?" Again silence. I put a third finger inside her, and though I tried to put it in forcefully, she was getting wet enough now that it slid right in. My thumb rested on her firm and tender rosebud, stroking it slowly in circles. Her thighs moved -- voluntarily? -- to meet my motions.
"Yes, Monty, we used to do this, and we used to like it. But it is not the same anymore, is it?" I pulled out my hand from her cunt.
Anger. "No you little bitch, it isn't the same anymore. I know Ihave no right to your body, to your pleasure, but here you are, here I am -- " The full weight of my body was now on her. I pushed myself up with my arms, and with great force I ripped open her short, exposing a little silk bra and her gorgeous tiny breasts, milky white, soft, so perfect. " -- and it looks like we're going to do this regardless of what it used to be like, aren't we, dear?"
"Please, Monty ... "
I stood up, and she lay on the bed, her skirt pushed all the way up past her pussy, draping the material off the bed and all around her. Her shirt was torn open, and the whiteness of all that skin practically glowed in the darkened room. She lay there, I could hear her measured steady breathing.
"I'm sorry Nat," I said, using her name the way I used to use it: with tenderness. "I'm sorry, but we must do this, I must do this. You came here for a reason -- " that I alone knew " -- and I believe this is why."
With that I unhooked my trousers, let them fall to the floor. I undid my shirt and took off my boxers. I was standing naked, my cock throbbing and sticking out stiff and strong.
"Stand up and get out of those clothes." Pause. "I said stand up," my voice came out in a loud burst, clearly startling her, clearly indicating that she was not in control.
She stood, unhooked the skirt, let her shirt and bra fall to the floor, and she stood a foot in front of me, naked, glowing. I could smell her scent, her sweat and perfume, and feel her heat.
"You really are a bastard, aren't you?" She hissed. "Is this all you wanted from me? Is this all I was to you, a little ... sex toy? Just like the ones you would bring me home, only I was.."
I slapped her. I had never done that before, but clearly my rage was taking over from my passion. I slapped her and she fell back dumbfounded onto the bed.
"Shut up you whore." And with that, I pushed her back down, straddled her midriff and held my cock over her lips. "Remember this? You used to love to take me into your mouth from this position." I put one hand behind me and found her pussy again. Her wetness had only increased.
I started fucking her with my fingers as I pushed my cock onto her lips. Perhaps she realized the futility of the situation, or perhaps my fingers were exciting her. Regardless, she opened her mouth, and with her tongue, she coated the head of my cock with her warm saliva. She lifted her head up, put pillows underneath it, and took me into her mouth.
It all came rushing back to me.
As she sucked on me, taking me in ever farther with each thrust forward of her head, I put my fingers in her deeper and deeper. When the feelings were beginning to get too intense, I pulled myself out of her mouth, swung my body around, shoved my cock back in and took her pussy in my mouth. We were like yin and yang again, swirling around each other, and certainly complementing each other. As I licked and sucked on her sweet sweet pussy, she sucked and licked with greater intensity.
Her hips started bucking up as I tongued her clit. With my fingers, I continued to fuck her until her juices were running out of her cunt, down her ass crack and soaking the bed beneath her. I let my fingers roam until I found her tiny, tiny, puckered ass hole, and with her own lubrication, I shoved two fingers in. With that she flinched, but though she could have, she did not bite down on my cock in retribution. Instead she thrust her hips to stay in contact with my mouth and let out a slow moan.
I had her pinned to the bed, and I was ministering to her three holes. She was writhing again, but this time it seemed like she was pleased.
As she got wetter and wetter, and her hips moved faster and faster, and I fingered her ass deeper and deeper, it was clear to me she was going to climax. Her moans had become pants. She could not keep my cock in her mouth. She was rubbing it over her lips and her chin, moaning, panting, and then she let out a low, deep moan that sounded like it originated from where my mouth and fingers were, travelled up through her body, and came out like a primal release.
Her whole body tensed, she moaned, and she climaxed. As she did, she was squeezing my cock, popping it in and out of her mouth, all the time stroking me. I knew I was going to come as well. As she went through orgasm after orgasm, my fluids began boiling up in me, spreading from my balls to my cock. I knew I was going to spurt big, and she knew it too.
She stroked faster and harder, using her mouth and both hands. I kept my mouth on her pussy and my fingers in her ass. She stroked and sucked until I could not hold in any longs and I released a stream of jizm that covered her chin, her lips, her cheeks and her hair. I released a second, and she had put her lips around me taking all of it in her mouth. She sucked and sucked until I had no more to give.
With that, we collapsed, momentarily spent. My face was covered in her juiced, hers in mine. I turned around, and we kissed. We kissed for the first time in years and it felt like the first time, period. I licked the cum from her face and she sucked it off my tongue. She cleaned my mouth and chin with her tongue. And we kissed, all of our flavors mixing.
It wasn't but a moment until I was hard again. I wanted to dump my seed in her very badly, and to plunge my cock in her until she is doubled over in pleasure.
But I needed a moments rest. We lay very still, her hand gently stroking me, the tears streaming down her face.
Natasha
Tears streaming down my cheeks, a mix of humiliationa and desire flooding my brain, unable to fully comprehend how easily I had given myself over to him. My cheek still stung where he had slapped me, my lips still swollen from the onslaught of his cock fucking my mouth.
And yet, the afterglow of satisfaction filled my body. No, William would never come close to the passion Monty had. William was sweet and kind and loving - but it would hardly surprise me if William was at this moment lying in Sir Edmonton's bed, enjoying the pleasures only 2 men could know.
I found myself still stroking Monty's cock, and cautiously looked up at him. In his eyes the anger seemed to have been replaced. Could there be just a hint of tenderness? Some of the old feelings resurfacing? Or was he only contemplating his next assault, figuring a way to cause my body to betray itself one more time.
I moved my hand away from his cock, and suddenly his hand was on mine, pushing it towards him.
"Oh, no, Nat. I'm not through with you yet. I've enjoyed that sweet mouth of yours, but there is another part of you I hunger for - one I haven't experienced for quite some time."
My eyes grew big with fear, as my body began to tremble.
"Monty! No! Please! I could become pregnant - don't do this! To me! To William!"
"Ah, now that would be fitting, wouldn't it? William's firstborn would actually be my child? A fitting betrayal, I should think."
Frantically, I attempt to escape, to wriggle free of his grasp, yet he held me firm.
"Monty, be sensible, please! Haven't you gotten your revenge? Your satisfaction? Must you attempt to destroy as well?"
"Destroy? And who are you to be talking about destruction? Do you realize what you did to me? Well, do you?"
"I would say the blame was equally placed, Monty! I suffered as well, you know!"
"Suffered? I'll show you the meaning of suffer!"
I felt his weight shift above me, and I began to struggle against him. Holding each of my wrists with his hands, he worked his knees between my thighs until they parted for him, his hard cock now bobbing against my swollen, wet pussy.
"Monty, no! I beg you! Don't...do....this!"
As I look up, I see him smiling down at me, even as his cock manages to plunge deep inside of me.
Tears streaming down my cheeks, a mix of humiliationa and desire flooding my brain, unable to fully comprehend how easily I had given myself over to him. My cheek still stung where he had slapped me, my lips still swollen from the onslaught of his cock fucking my mouth.
And yet, the afterglow of satisfaction filled my body. No, William would never come close to the passion Monty had. William was sweet and kind and loving - but it would hardly surprise me if William was at this moment lying in Sir Edmonton's bed, enjoying the pleasures only 2 men could know.
I found myself still stroking Monty's cock, and cautiously looked up at him. In his eyes the anger seemed to have been replaced. Could there be just a hint of tenderness? Some of the old feelings resurfacing? Or was he only contemplating his next assault, figuring a way to cause my body to betray itself one more time.
I moved my hand away from his cock, and suddenly his hand was on mine, pushing it towards him.
"Oh, no, Nat. I'm not through with you yet. I've enjoyed that sweet mouth of yours, but there is another part of you I hunger for - one I haven't experienced for quite some time."
My eyes grew big with fear, as my body began to tremble.
"Monty! No! Please! I could become pregnant - don't do this! To me! To William!"
"Ah, now that would be fitting, wouldn't it? William's firstborn would actually be my child? A fitting betrayal, I should think."
Frantically, I attempt to escape, to wriggle free of his grasp, yet he held me firm.
"Monty, be sensible, please! Haven't you gotten your revenge? Your satisfaction? Must you attempt to destroy as well?"
"Destroy? And who are you to be talking about destruction? Do you realize what you did to me? Well, do you?"
"I would say the blame was equally placed, Monty! I suffered as well, you know!"
"Suffered? I'll show you the meaning of suffer!"
I felt his weight shift above me, and I began to struggle against him. Holding each of my wrists with his hands, he worked his knees between my thighs until they parted for him, his hard cock now bobbing against my swollen, wet pussy.
"Monty, no! I beg you! Don't...do....this!"
As I look up, I see him smiling down at me, even as his cock manages to plunge deep inside of me.
bombast
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2001
- Posts
- 142
Monty
Heedless to her words, the gentleness from inside me gone, I wanted nothing but to leave her scarred from this experience. How fitting, I thought, it would be to leave her with child from her one time betrayal of William, the man who was her savior.
"Monty, no! I beg you! Don't...do....this!" she moans.
But it is too late. I am deep inside her, her legs splayed open on either side of me. Her small tits are shaking as I plunge in and out of her wet sex. Her hands pushed on my shoulders as she tried to make me get off of her, and her head swung from side to side, perhaps trying to shake off the reality that surrounded her.
I was not fucking her to make love to her. I was not fucking her for my pleasure or for hers. I was fucking her so that she would always remember me. I was fucking her so she would get pregnant.
My cock felt huge inside her. I took long full strokes, rapidly, feeling her wetness along the top of my member until it popped out, then I would plunge in deep all the way.
As I continued this, I noticed her change. Her hands and arms moved from my shoulders to her tiny tits. She pinched and rolled her nipples. Her head stopped moving from side to side and it tilted back. She was biting her lip. Her legs moved from my sides to wrapped around me ... she was pulling me in and forcing my rhythm. She lifted her pelvis to meet mine in a crashing of wills.
She had abandoned her defenses, and she wanted me inside her as much as I wanted to be. As her will to have me increase, my will to penetrate grew as well, but I did not want to accomodate hers. I pulled out rapidly, and in a quick move put my hands on her waist and flipped her over. I was going to take her on my terms.
I pushed my cock, still soaking from the wetness of her pussy, against her rosebud anus, and without waiting, I shoved it in. It was very tight, but she was not a virgin in this hole. I went in smoothly, deeply. The tightness was overwhelming, and her animal moan meant she definitely felt what I was doing to her. I fucked her ass as if it were a wet pussy, not giving in to the tightness, to the friction.
But just as she started moving to my rhythm when I was in her cunt, so too did she start to move along with my pumping while I was in her ass. She lifted her hips up so she could finger her clit. And then she started shaking.
I could tell she was sobbing, but whether it was from pleasure or pain or both I did not know. The meanest side of me came out as if I were posessed of a demon. All my anger was funneling through my cock -- shove it in, pull it out, shove it it, pull it out. I was nowhere near cumming yet.
Her sobs and moans began a rhythm of their own, and I could tell she was going to cum again.
"That's it, you bitch, you whore. Cum on your true master's cock. Remember it is my tool that took your virginity, and mine along that can bring you to this pleasure."
The anger was coursing through me. How I loved you, Natasha, I thought. How I wanted you to be my sun, my moon, my earth and my stars. How I wanted you to have my children, to share my life. How betrayed I felt when you took William as your lover. This is years of my anger boiling up in my balls, in my guts.
The angrier I felt, the more she moaned and shook. She was cumming, over and over again because of the ministrations of her fingers and my cock in her asshole. As she came, she would squeeze my cock tighter and tighter. It was as if -- no, she was! -- trying to make me cum in her bowels.
I would not.
I pulled out with such force she gasped, and her ass pushed back to try to grab me inside her again.
"Please William, let me feel your seed inside me, deeped than if you put it into my cunt ... please ... " And she started sobbing again, collapsing on the bed. She knew it was not to be.
Still on her stomach, with me kneeling between her legs, I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her onto her knees. With a quick motion, I put my cock back into her now dripping cunt. I was trying to tattoo her womb with my cock. I wanted my come to etch her insides.
But I began to feel strange. The anger started to subside .. as soon as she stopped working against me or with me ... I no longer had the will to give to her all that I felt I owed her. Yes, my cock was raging and pulsing with my desire, but my desire was no longer cloaked in anger. I had waited just a moment too long, and the hatred disippated.
But still I kept my cock inside her. But this time, I did not move. I stayed perfectly still against her, my things against her ass, by balls against her clit, my cock rammed inside as deep as it would go, my hands on her waist holding her as close to me as physically possible.
I loved her. I hated her. I wanted to punish her. I wanted her gone. I wanted her with me forever. I wanted .... I wanted ... I wanted ... I was not going to give her me. I was not going to let this happen.
I pulled out of her ... stood off the bed ...
"Natasha, sit up. Sit up on the bed," I ordered. She did. I stood in front of her with my member pulsing in front of her, very near her mouth.
"I am not going to cum inside you. You are not going to take my seed with you. William is who you want, it is his life, his child, his family you will get. I could not punish you more than that. The life you have chosen with an incompetent, infertile, incontinent and impotent fop is more degradation than I could ever hope to put on you."
She looked up at me, doe-eyed, her small breasts heaving as she tried to catch her breath. The smell of her sex permeated the room. Her fingers were glistening with her cum.
"What is it you want, Monty? Why are you doing this?"
"Because of the deep wound you inflicted on me. I want so much to make you feel the pain I have felt every single day since I left you..."
"...and raping me would do that?"
I had no answer to that. Yes, I thought. It might. But it would be fleeting. And carrying my child would only bring shame upon my child, and not punish her enough.
"Will you leave William?"
"For what? For a life here, in this sandy hot hell?"
I put my hands on her shoulders, and slowly moved my cock closer to her mouth. "Yes."
"I will not, and you know it. I do not want this life, and I am in love with William." She turned away from my eyes when she said that.
"You're lying, but I gave you a chance." With that, I forced my cock into her mouth, into her throat until she was gagging. I started fucking her mouth with the abandon that I had left off fucking her ass and her cunt.
Finally, I felt the anger boil up from my balls and through my gut and into my cock. As I pumped harder and harder, and as she cried more and more, as saliva dripped from her mouth, a started cumming, one hot stream after the other. First I came deep in her throat, then onto her hair and across her forehead, then back in her mouth. I kept my cock plugging her mouth so she would have to swallow it. As she kept sucking me, I rubbed my cum into her hair, into her forehead.
And when I was finished, I was done with her. I had nothing left inside me for her. No hate, no love, no fear, no lust, no longing, no anger. I was finished with Natasha, and I ordered her to go.
"Am I supposed to leave looking like this?" He blouse was torn, and her body was cum stained. Her hair was matted. She looked like she had been ravaged, and I was not going to let her clean up here.
"Get out."
"Please Monty, may I clean up? I can not go back to William like this."
"There's a public bath on the way back to your hotel. Use it if you wish. But leave."
I held the door open for her, and she walked out.
Heedless to her words, the gentleness from inside me gone, I wanted nothing but to leave her scarred from this experience. How fitting, I thought, it would be to leave her with child from her one time betrayal of William, the man who was her savior.
"Monty, no! I beg you! Don't...do....this!" she moans.
But it is too late. I am deep inside her, her legs splayed open on either side of me. Her small tits are shaking as I plunge in and out of her wet sex. Her hands pushed on my shoulders as she tried to make me get off of her, and her head swung from side to side, perhaps trying to shake off the reality that surrounded her.
I was not fucking her to make love to her. I was not fucking her for my pleasure or for hers. I was fucking her so that she would always remember me. I was fucking her so she would get pregnant.
My cock felt huge inside her. I took long full strokes, rapidly, feeling her wetness along the top of my member until it popped out, then I would plunge in deep all the way.
As I continued this, I noticed her change. Her hands and arms moved from my shoulders to her tiny tits. She pinched and rolled her nipples. Her head stopped moving from side to side and it tilted back. She was biting her lip. Her legs moved from my sides to wrapped around me ... she was pulling me in and forcing my rhythm. She lifted her pelvis to meet mine in a crashing of wills.
She had abandoned her defenses, and she wanted me inside her as much as I wanted to be. As her will to have me increase, my will to penetrate grew as well, but I did not want to accomodate hers. I pulled out rapidly, and in a quick move put my hands on her waist and flipped her over. I was going to take her on my terms.
I pushed my cock, still soaking from the wetness of her pussy, against her rosebud anus, and without waiting, I shoved it in. It was very tight, but she was not a virgin in this hole. I went in smoothly, deeply. The tightness was overwhelming, and her animal moan meant she definitely felt what I was doing to her. I fucked her ass as if it were a wet pussy, not giving in to the tightness, to the friction.
But just as she started moving to my rhythm when I was in her cunt, so too did she start to move along with my pumping while I was in her ass. She lifted her hips up so she could finger her clit. And then she started shaking.
I could tell she was sobbing, but whether it was from pleasure or pain or both I did not know. The meanest side of me came out as if I were posessed of a demon. All my anger was funneling through my cock -- shove it in, pull it out, shove it it, pull it out. I was nowhere near cumming yet.
Her sobs and moans began a rhythm of their own, and I could tell she was going to cum again.
"That's it, you bitch, you whore. Cum on your true master's cock. Remember it is my tool that took your virginity, and mine along that can bring you to this pleasure."
The anger was coursing through me. How I loved you, Natasha, I thought. How I wanted you to be my sun, my moon, my earth and my stars. How I wanted you to have my children, to share my life. How betrayed I felt when you took William as your lover. This is years of my anger boiling up in my balls, in my guts.
The angrier I felt, the more she moaned and shook. She was cumming, over and over again because of the ministrations of her fingers and my cock in her asshole. As she came, she would squeeze my cock tighter and tighter. It was as if -- no, she was! -- trying to make me cum in her bowels.
I would not.
I pulled out with such force she gasped, and her ass pushed back to try to grab me inside her again.
"Please William, let me feel your seed inside me, deeped than if you put it into my cunt ... please ... " And she started sobbing again, collapsing on the bed. She knew it was not to be.
Still on her stomach, with me kneeling between her legs, I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her onto her knees. With a quick motion, I put my cock back into her now dripping cunt. I was trying to tattoo her womb with my cock. I wanted my come to etch her insides.
But I began to feel strange. The anger started to subside .. as soon as she stopped working against me or with me ... I no longer had the will to give to her all that I felt I owed her. Yes, my cock was raging and pulsing with my desire, but my desire was no longer cloaked in anger. I had waited just a moment too long, and the hatred disippated.
But still I kept my cock inside her. But this time, I did not move. I stayed perfectly still against her, my things against her ass, by balls against her clit, my cock rammed inside as deep as it would go, my hands on her waist holding her as close to me as physically possible.
I loved her. I hated her. I wanted to punish her. I wanted her gone. I wanted her with me forever. I wanted .... I wanted ... I wanted ... I was not going to give her me. I was not going to let this happen.
I pulled out of her ... stood off the bed ...
"Natasha, sit up. Sit up on the bed," I ordered. She did. I stood in front of her with my member pulsing in front of her, very near her mouth.
"I am not going to cum inside you. You are not going to take my seed with you. William is who you want, it is his life, his child, his family you will get. I could not punish you more than that. The life you have chosen with an incompetent, infertile, incontinent and impotent fop is more degradation than I could ever hope to put on you."
She looked up at me, doe-eyed, her small breasts heaving as she tried to catch her breath. The smell of her sex permeated the room. Her fingers were glistening with her cum.
"What is it you want, Monty? Why are you doing this?"
"Because of the deep wound you inflicted on me. I want so much to make you feel the pain I have felt every single day since I left you..."
"...and raping me would do that?"
I had no answer to that. Yes, I thought. It might. But it would be fleeting. And carrying my child would only bring shame upon my child, and not punish her enough.
"Will you leave William?"
"For what? For a life here, in this sandy hot hell?"
I put my hands on her shoulders, and slowly moved my cock closer to her mouth. "Yes."
"I will not, and you know it. I do not want this life, and I am in love with William." She turned away from my eyes when she said that.
"You're lying, but I gave you a chance." With that, I forced my cock into her mouth, into her throat until she was gagging. I started fucking her mouth with the abandon that I had left off fucking her ass and her cunt.
Finally, I felt the anger boil up from my balls and through my gut and into my cock. As I pumped harder and harder, and as she cried more and more, as saliva dripped from her mouth, a started cumming, one hot stream after the other. First I came deep in her throat, then onto her hair and across her forehead, then back in her mouth. I kept my cock plugging her mouth so she would have to swallow it. As she kept sucking me, I rubbed my cum into her hair, into her forehead.
And when I was finished, I was done with her. I had nothing left inside me for her. No hate, no love, no fear, no lust, no longing, no anger. I was finished with Natasha, and I ordered her to go.
"Am I supposed to leave looking like this?" He blouse was torn, and her body was cum stained. Her hair was matted. She looked like she had been ravaged, and I was not going to let her clean up here.
"Get out."
"Please Monty, may I clean up? I can not go back to William like this."
"There's a public bath on the way back to your hotel. Use it if you wish. But leave."
I held the door open for her, and she walked out.
Natasha
Shocked, staring at him, unable to comprehend just how he had changed. Catching site of myelf in a small mirror on the wall, I was startled. To walk through the hotel lobby in such a state would certainly bring about disgrace. And to use a public bath? In this place? Unthinkable.
"But, Monty, please! Just a little water to clean my face - please!"
"NO! Leave! The sight of you sickens me!"
I watched as he moved towards the door, opened it, and moved aside.
Near tears, I stood and straightened my skirt, attempting to hold my blouse together before putting the jacket on over it. I tried to cover my matted hair with my hat, at the same time using it to shield my face. I stepped to the door, and stopped, looking up at the man who once loved and who had used me as a common whore.
"And to think I once wanted to be your wife. I must have been insane to think you could ever be a cultured gentleman!"
Without responding, I felt his hand between my shoulderblades as he brusquely pushed me out the door and into the hallway. As I turned around, I saw the door slam firmly shut behind me. As the tears began to course their way down my cheeks, I hurried downstairs pretending not to notice the glances and stars of fellow patrons. One salvation was that night had descended, as I hailed a cab and headed back to the hotel - and William. Sobbing openly in the cab, I could only hope, for the first time, that William had truly found comfort in Sir Edmonton's arms and I would be spared any confrontation with him this night.
Shocked, staring at him, unable to comprehend just how he had changed. Catching site of myelf in a small mirror on the wall, I was startled. To walk through the hotel lobby in such a state would certainly bring about disgrace. And to use a public bath? In this place? Unthinkable.
"But, Monty, please! Just a little water to clean my face - please!"
"NO! Leave! The sight of you sickens me!"
I watched as he moved towards the door, opened it, and moved aside.
Near tears, I stood and straightened my skirt, attempting to hold my blouse together before putting the jacket on over it. I tried to cover my matted hair with my hat, at the same time using it to shield my face. I stepped to the door, and stopped, looking up at the man who once loved and who had used me as a common whore.
"And to think I once wanted to be your wife. I must have been insane to think you could ever be a cultured gentleman!"
Without responding, I felt his hand between my shoulderblades as he brusquely pushed me out the door and into the hallway. As I turned around, I saw the door slam firmly shut behind me. As the tears began to course their way down my cheeks, I hurried downstairs pretending not to notice the glances and stars of fellow patrons. One salvation was that night had descended, as I hailed a cab and headed back to the hotel - and William. Sobbing openly in the cab, I could only hope, for the first time, that William had truly found comfort in Sir Edmonton's arms and I would be spared any confrontation with him this night.
bombast
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2001
- Posts
- 142
Montgomery
At last, she was gone. Spent, I lay down on the messy bed and fell into a deep sleep. My dreams, I remember, were very strange, full of women in gauzy flowing dresses and deep black eyes. All of them cast recriminating fingers and glances at me. As I passed each, she reached out to grab me, but though they would catch my arm and squeeze, it was if there were no force to their touch, and I just passed right through.
I don't know what it meant, but I awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. The ceiling fan rotated slowly, but the air was not moving. It was dark outside, I noticed, as the shutters were still opened from when Natasha was here. I reached over to grab a glass of water on the bedstand, drank it down and slowly arose, swinging my legs to the floor and sitting up on the edge of the bed.
I saw it in silhouette, standing on the table by the window. The dim lights from outside hit the blue bottle and surrounded it in a halo of crystal blue light.
I remembered now how everything had started, and what I had to do next.
Emotionally, I felt a bit more resolved. Sexually, I wanted more, much more. Dealing with Natasha had only whetted my appetite. I had all of her, and left her a mess and on her way, out of my life forever. As cathartic as that felt, I still needed ... something. I felt I needed some strength to continue, and I needed direction. I felt completely stopped. Motionless, directionless, aimless.
I needed help.
I walked to the bottle and summoned Khalia to help.
At last, she was gone. Spent, I lay down on the messy bed and fell into a deep sleep. My dreams, I remember, were very strange, full of women in gauzy flowing dresses and deep black eyes. All of them cast recriminating fingers and glances at me. As I passed each, she reached out to grab me, but though they would catch my arm and squeeze, it was if there were no force to their touch, and I just passed right through.
I don't know what it meant, but I awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. The ceiling fan rotated slowly, but the air was not moving. It was dark outside, I noticed, as the shutters were still opened from when Natasha was here. I reached over to grab a glass of water on the bedstand, drank it down and slowly arose, swinging my legs to the floor and sitting up on the edge of the bed.
I saw it in silhouette, standing on the table by the window. The dim lights from outside hit the blue bottle and surrounded it in a halo of crystal blue light.
I remembered now how everything had started, and what I had to do next.
Emotionally, I felt a bit more resolved. Sexually, I wanted more, much more. Dealing with Natasha had only whetted my appetite. I had all of her, and left her a mess and on her way, out of my life forever. As cathartic as that felt, I still needed ... something. I felt I needed some strength to continue, and I needed direction. I felt completely stopped. Motionless, directionless, aimless.
I needed help.
I walked to the bottle and summoned Khalia to help.
Khalia
As the bottle was unstopped, I felt the rush of the void before once again seeing the world in front of me. My Master stood before me, his brow furrowed, a haunted look in his eyes.
"Is all well, Master? Did not Natasha come to see you?"
His face turned to a scowl as he raised his hand to run it over his face.
"Yes, Khalia, she was here - and now is gone. And, no, I'm not well. I'm...restless....upset.....hell, I don't know what it is!"
He stomped to the bed, as I followed him. Sitting next to him, I allowed myself to run my fingers over his brow.
"Master, perhaps some sleep is what you need right now. Sleep is healing, it replenishes the soul, the spirit. Sleep, Master. I shall watch over you."
"Yes, perhaps that is what I need. Thank you, Khalia. Also must think of my next wishes, mustn't I?"
"Yes, Master."
Bending over him as he lay on his bed, took a cloth wet with rose water and gently bathed his face and neck, refreshing him from the heat that still permeated the room. He dropped off to sleep, suddenly, his deep breathing signaling his content.
But his dreams were anything but content. A touch of violence about them, control at the center, impending pain though not given. His dreams spoke to me of the restlessness he stated earlier, but now I knew where they had come from. His time with the mysterious Natasha had gone as he had wanted, but his emotions were in turmoil.
Bending near his ear, I whispered into his ear, "Tell me, Master. What is it that you desire? Tell Khalia, so that she can make it truth for you!"
His words came as mumbles, yet clear enough to be heard.
"Control...some one else in control. Don't want to be in control. Not now, maybe later. Khalia, take control...my mind....my body...."
"Is this your wish, my Master? That I take control?"
His murmured "yes" came into my ears. I smiled as I arose.
"Then it is my command, Master."
Holding the amulet between my breasts, closing my eyes, and murmuring the correct words, when I open my eyes, plainly visible are the ropes that are needed. Working quickly, I remove his clothing as though undressing a ragdoll. Then, taking the ropes, I secure first his wrists and then his ankles to the 4 posts of the bed.
Then I await his awakening, a smile playing across my lips.
As the bottle was unstopped, I felt the rush of the void before once again seeing the world in front of me. My Master stood before me, his brow furrowed, a haunted look in his eyes.
"Is all well, Master? Did not Natasha come to see you?"
His face turned to a scowl as he raised his hand to run it over his face.
"Yes, Khalia, she was here - and now is gone. And, no, I'm not well. I'm...restless....upset.....hell, I don't know what it is!"
He stomped to the bed, as I followed him. Sitting next to him, I allowed myself to run my fingers over his brow.
"Master, perhaps some sleep is what you need right now. Sleep is healing, it replenishes the soul, the spirit. Sleep, Master. I shall watch over you."
"Yes, perhaps that is what I need. Thank you, Khalia. Also must think of my next wishes, mustn't I?"
"Yes, Master."
Bending over him as he lay on his bed, took a cloth wet with rose water and gently bathed his face and neck, refreshing him from the heat that still permeated the room. He dropped off to sleep, suddenly, his deep breathing signaling his content.
But his dreams were anything but content. A touch of violence about them, control at the center, impending pain though not given. His dreams spoke to me of the restlessness he stated earlier, but now I knew where they had come from. His time with the mysterious Natasha had gone as he had wanted, but his emotions were in turmoil.
Bending near his ear, I whispered into his ear, "Tell me, Master. What is it that you desire? Tell Khalia, so that she can make it truth for you!"
His words came as mumbles, yet clear enough to be heard.
"Control...some one else in control. Don't want to be in control. Not now, maybe later. Khalia, take control...my mind....my body...."
"Is this your wish, my Master? That I take control?"
His murmured "yes" came into my ears. I smiled as I arose.
"Then it is my command, Master."
Holding the amulet between my breasts, closing my eyes, and murmuring the correct words, when I open my eyes, plainly visible are the ropes that are needed. Working quickly, I remove his clothing as though undressing a ragdoll. Then, taking the ropes, I secure first his wrists and then his ankles to the 4 posts of the bed.
Then I await his awakening, a smile playing across my lips.
bombast
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2001
- Posts
- 142
Montgomery
I fell into a fitful sleep. The images of Natasha's face kept coming to me, incriminating me, blaming me for all the ills that have befallen her. I dreamt I was ravaging her, and she was crying tears of blood. I dreamt I was scraping her skin with my nails, and she was bleeding.
Images of her turned demonic, and I cowered. In my dream I was looking for help, for someone to protect me. I needed protection from my past, from all the women I have hurt and harmed, from all the prostitutes I had turned to for salvation, for the women hidden in the opium dens and hash houses throughout the lands of my travels. I have hurt them all. In my dream, I inflicted pain on all of them. And now they are all reaching out to me with poison. I needed protection from this, I needed someone to take control of my life and me.
I remember nothing after that dream, except falling into a deep deep sleep. When I came to, I opened my eyes slowly. I wanted to rub the sleep out of them, to get some water, to wake up, but I couldn't move my arms. I tried again and again, and it took some time before I realized I had been tied to the bed.
Panic overtook me. In my haze, I saw Khalia sitting next to me on the bed, looking at me strangely, smiling.
"KHALIA!" I shouted. "What is this? What is happening? Who did you let in here? Where is Natasha, did she do this? Did William? What is happening?"
I tried sitting up to no avail. I twisted my body, but only succeeded in hurting my arms, and then ... MY LEGS! My legs were tied down as well. I looked down and saw I had no clothes on, and I was splayed and tied to the bed.
I crashed back down. Khalia just sat there, smiling.
"Breathe," she commanded. "Relax."
My eyes opened widely in a fit of panic.
"BREATHE," she yelled sternly. I put my head back into the pillow. I was helpless.
"You can't go anywhere. You can't do anything. I'm here to protect you from yourself, as you commanded. You clearly..."
"As I commanded? I commanded this? What are you talking about?"
"I was saying before you interrupted me ... you clearly need someone to take control of you life which seems to me unmanageable..."
"I asked for this?" I was getting a bit meeker, because my dreams were coming back to me. Guilt piled onto the shame, and I felt helpless on the inside as well as on the outside. But still. ..
"You had many many bad dreams, with bad images, and in your dreams and in your sleep you cried out for my protection, for my ... skills," she said, calmly, quietly.
I was about to accept this when I remembered who I was. "You can't do this to me ... I'm your master. I'm in control of you."
"You are, my Monty. You are my master, but I respond to the honesty that is inside you, to the needs that you may not even realize. You asked to be treated as a child, as an innocent, so I am obeying that. You are my master, but my master wanted me to take charge, to bring you some kind of salvation and redemption that only complete submission can bring."
I closed my eyes trying to take this whole situation in. Could she be telling the truth? Is it possible for her to even lie?
I managed to relax a bit, but I couldn't too much, for every time my arms or legs twitched, the ropes reminded me of where I was. Khalia was still looking over me, and I could finally see the beauty that she was. I knew I could not escape from this, that I had ordered her to do this (despite myself).
My emotions welled inside me. Was I punishing myself for something? Did Khalia know? What was I in for?
I fell into a fitful sleep. The images of Natasha's face kept coming to me, incriminating me, blaming me for all the ills that have befallen her. I dreamt I was ravaging her, and she was crying tears of blood. I dreamt I was scraping her skin with my nails, and she was bleeding.
Images of her turned demonic, and I cowered. In my dream I was looking for help, for someone to protect me. I needed protection from my past, from all the women I have hurt and harmed, from all the prostitutes I had turned to for salvation, for the women hidden in the opium dens and hash houses throughout the lands of my travels. I have hurt them all. In my dream, I inflicted pain on all of them. And now they are all reaching out to me with poison. I needed protection from this, I needed someone to take control of my life and me.
I remember nothing after that dream, except falling into a deep deep sleep. When I came to, I opened my eyes slowly. I wanted to rub the sleep out of them, to get some water, to wake up, but I couldn't move my arms. I tried again and again, and it took some time before I realized I had been tied to the bed.
Panic overtook me. In my haze, I saw Khalia sitting next to me on the bed, looking at me strangely, smiling.
"KHALIA!" I shouted. "What is this? What is happening? Who did you let in here? Where is Natasha, did she do this? Did William? What is happening?"
I tried sitting up to no avail. I twisted my body, but only succeeded in hurting my arms, and then ... MY LEGS! My legs were tied down as well. I looked down and saw I had no clothes on, and I was splayed and tied to the bed.
I crashed back down. Khalia just sat there, smiling.
"Breathe," she commanded. "Relax."
My eyes opened widely in a fit of panic.
"BREATHE," she yelled sternly. I put my head back into the pillow. I was helpless.
"You can't go anywhere. You can't do anything. I'm here to protect you from yourself, as you commanded. You clearly..."
"As I commanded? I commanded this? What are you talking about?"
"I was saying before you interrupted me ... you clearly need someone to take control of you life which seems to me unmanageable..."
"I asked for this?" I was getting a bit meeker, because my dreams were coming back to me. Guilt piled onto the shame, and I felt helpless on the inside as well as on the outside. But still. ..
"You had many many bad dreams, with bad images, and in your dreams and in your sleep you cried out for my protection, for my ... skills," she said, calmly, quietly.
I was about to accept this when I remembered who I was. "You can't do this to me ... I'm your master. I'm in control of you."
"You are, my Monty. You are my master, but I respond to the honesty that is inside you, to the needs that you may not even realize. You asked to be treated as a child, as an innocent, so I am obeying that. You are my master, but my master wanted me to take charge, to bring you some kind of salvation and redemption that only complete submission can bring."
I closed my eyes trying to take this whole situation in. Could she be telling the truth? Is it possible for her to even lie?
I managed to relax a bit, but I couldn't too much, for every time my arms or legs twitched, the ropes reminded me of where I was. Khalia was still looking over me, and I could finally see the beauty that she was. I knew I could not escape from this, that I had ordered her to do this (despite myself).
My emotions welled inside me. Was I punishing myself for something? Did Khalia know? What was I in for?
