Dec 30, 2008
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Dec 5, 2008
Another Story by Sybatra, Mistress of Silent Need
Once upon a time, in a small cabin far in the north, there was a young man who had been taken captive by a woman of experience and very harsh desires. He spent his days in warm socks and tight leather thongs that held him erect, or made it impossible to be erect, depending upon her whims.
On this day, he has been too long in the closet, and too long in the dark. Suddenly the door flies open. He can smell her perfume, but not see her in the blinding light.
"EYES DOWN!!!! Crawl out here..." But it is difficult. His ankles are bound together. It is more of a wiggling than a crawl and she laughs at his awkward ass swaying in the bright light. "Your ass is too white!! I'll make it rosy red..."
The sudden sound of the whip cutting air is a strange delight for both of them. A welt rises on his white ass, a streak of red, and with a quick intake of air, as he gasps for fear and hunger to please. Something inside him melts and he knows it is tonight when he must give all that he has longed to give and tonight when she will ask more than ever before. He can sense it in her silence, and the silence of the waiting air around him.
Thwack!!! Another red road directs her pleasure across the wide expanse of her imagination. She grabs his hair and presses his face and eager nose against her moist and secret places. What a wonderful odor fills his mind. He is breathing too hard against her. He is short of breath and with a gentle laugh she presses his face deeper between her closed thighs.
He is willing to die, but he hopes to live, if only to be used for a few hours and discarded. But that is not her plan. She leans over him humming a careless tune as she lets him breathe and removes all his bonds, whispering "You are mine little one. You are all mine. Come to the bench." He crawls eagerly, but slowly, to the leather covered bench in the corner. It has been made especially for her and for her "playthings" to enjoy. She has him sit upright this time, and facing her, eyes down.
She sits close on a padded stool and begins a new ritual of bondage. First, at the base of his cock, she binds him with soft leather that she pulls tightly beneath the seat through a wide inset opening in the front on the seat below his genitals. She ties it firmly. He is going nowhere now as she rises and binds each wrist with leather cuffs to the sides of the seat. Now she attaches a tall leather neck piece and he is bound to his "chair", no longer able to look down and see what is taking place as she continues her play.
He feels a cool touch of metal along his chest and a sudden flash of pain in one nipple tells him she has hung her favorite weight from his right breast, and now another on the left. He knows there is no place for complaint in this, no need to even to moan.
She has entered her own world in which he is and is not a part. She is as intent as ever she has been and there's no turning back. Now he feels her hands on his stiff rod. He knows she is taking stock of it. She strokes the skin to feel the velvet tension, to feel the life in it, the hunger, the need. She hefts his balls, but now thinks of them as her own. She makes them into objects for her convenience and pleasure. She hefts the balls and measures them against some secret standard. He can tell from the soft sounds she makes that so far he has pleased her, but there is something more. A tightening in her grip now on his cock, a twisting that feels as if it continues round and round his stiff member without a natural explanation for the unbroken whirling sensation. As the skin begin to burn against the friction of her twisting hands, she pulls at the cock and groans with a feral need.
It hurts beyond his expectation, but he has not been given permission to speak or to ask for mercy. They have been together too long now. He has been her property for so long that she knows what he can handle and knows he will be quiet and not disturb her in her meditations. She dreams her power through his flesh and it is a deep, deep dream.
Now he feels a leather thong being wrapped round and round his dick, the full length being girded and pressured. He dares not think of anything but the smell of her, the sound of her, the surrender to her needs, for if he should begin to soften she will whip him mercilessly and leave him stranded here until her disappointment fades, which could be sometime tomorrow. He is hard, stiff like steel. He is hers and meets her expectation.
Now she tugs at the balls again. She is playing some unknown game and it makes her giggle a little as she twists them. And now, using both hands, she crushes them together then pulls them out long and hard, binding them with a leather strap so that they are fully hers and far from the protection of his body.
"Little balls so alone and frightened." She speaks softly, then snaps the balls sharply with a harsh dismissive finger. A fierce little pain winds it's way up his spine and explodes in his mind. He has been here before, on the edge of the unknown, not in any way certain of what she has planned. Perhaps, he fears, the next sudden pain may announce a worse tangle of need and ingenuity. The fear begins growing in his belly, then the sound of an electric vibrator disturbs his fevered thoughts and the sweet coolness of lubricant disturbs his ass. The opening in the seat is enough to allow access, just barely. And once she inserts the vibrating butt plug, the seat is also just big enough to hold it in place. So he sits in pleasure and pain for her.
She lets loose his nipples, and after so long a time it is another sharp reminder that pain and pleasure are 2 edges of one knife in her world. She begins to hum a bluesy tune. A fresh wave of female musk breaks over him as her fingers reach to his mouth where her red painted nails insert the wet taste of pussy into his eager mouth. "You wish..." she says, teasing him, and laughs. She bends low and binds his ankles to the legs of the bench. Now he is entirely immobile. She clicks something nearby and the insistent vibrator jumps into high gear. Someone moans. Is it he or she? She has begun to masturbate, but she is still close by. He cannot see what she is doing, but she has used him this way before.
Now again he feels the clamps pinching his sore nipples, stronger, heavier. He realizes this time she's using the black ones with the long chain between them. The clamps tighten when pulled. The vibrator speed lowers. The soft heavy thud of a suede flogger begins falling across his chest, again and again, tearing at the clamps. Then she swings it lower, hitting his throbbing cock. Up and down his body the heavy pain rolls, and it warms him. He lets his mind go now, no longer analyzing, no longer measuring his resistance or her need. The whip falls spreading pain, mixing with the senation of the vibrator as it kicks into high and she moans.
The slow pulsing rhythms of the high and low settings beat against the rhythm of the whip tugging at the nipple clamps, and his battered cock. She is pleasuring herself now, and he is a part of her arousal. His surrender is the bow she plays herself with. He shrinks back from the tugging pain in his nipples and rises up when the vibrations increase in intensity. Up and down, back and forth, he is caught in the machinations of her perversity. He can smell her fragrance filling the room and his cock is about to burst regardless of the binding, regardless of the pain, regardless of her need to keep him hard. He abandons himself to the moment, and hears her scream in pleasure as if she knew, as if they where one. Waves of heaven break over them both as he spills his dreams out upon her leather. Knowing he will pay for that, he smiles. He feels her smile, too, somewhere near in time and space as a long quiet moment grows longer still. Then they break the silence laughing together, one in relaxation, one in discomfort, and both in joyful anticipation of a future that unfolds across a heaving sea of endless possibilties...
Nov 23, 2008
My Beer Buddy
Despite us calling it "boys night out," most of the time Tony and I would hang out in his finished basement on our occasional evenings. Basketball season was our favorite. Tony's wife, Marsha, would order us up a couple pizzas, stock the basement fridge with beer, and let boys be boys.
I don't think that Marsha knew just what kind of boys we were being in the comfort of his plush rec space. Once we got down there and settled, Tony would have me strip for him. I'd get down on all fours and be his footstool. He'd rest his frosty mug of beer on the small of my back, sending a shiver up my spine I had to suppress, lest I spill a drop. All the while, my cock would be rock hard from serving him.
After a while, he'd finish his beer and set the glass aside. He'd have me kneel down, lower, and rub his bare feet. I took special care of him this way. Each week I'd rub and massage his soles. I'm sure that, of all the guys in the office, he had the softest and most pampered feet in our office.
Properly buffed and moisturized, Tony instructed me to worship his feet more deeply. I took each toe into my mouth, beginning with the little one on each foot and moving closer and closer to the big one. I loved to take his big toes in my mouth and suck them long and hard, lolling my tongue under them, feeling the ridges of his skin.
The first time we played this game was over a year ago. It was late--really late--and we had been drinking... a lot. After the game was over, Tony started flipping around and came to a softcore movie on one of his thousand cable channels. He started talking about how hot the girls in the movie were. Before I knew it, he had fished his cock out of his pants and was stroking it right in front of me.
I don't know what it was but something came out in me seeing that. I just couldn't help myself. It looked so big and full and... delicious. I bent over and put my hand over his, then I put the head of it in my mouth and started to suck. It just felt so right. He moaned and lay his head back over the edge of the couch, his mouth agape. I just kept sucking and stroking him, cupping his heavy hairy balls in my hand, feeling them tighten and hearing his breath get harder and heavier until he came, pumping his load into my mouth.
Since then, I've been his. We don't talk about it much outside of his basement but once we're together down there, I'm his.
While I love to suck his cock, what I really love is when he fucks me. I never knew that I'd want something like that but, shit, the next time we were together I was begging for it.
"Tony, will you fuck me?"
"What? Fuck your ass?"
I nodded. I felt like such a little bitch asking for it, but it just felt... I dunno... natural to want it. I wanted to feel him inside of me, deeper than my mouth.
He had me get over his ottoman and used some lube on my ass. That he had lube there, made me realize that he had thought of this as well. He put a finger in me and, oh, it felt so good. He started sliding it in and out and I couldn't help but groan. I wanted him. I wanted him in me.
When he took his finger out, I felt empty. I wanted more. I wanted fullness. "Please, Tony, please fuck me."
He put the head of his cock against my asshole and pushed in. It was excruciating. "Oh, shit," I said, "Just... wait... keep it in me, but let me get used to it... oh." It felt huge inside of me. I felt like he was splitting me open. My ass was throbbing but wouldn't you know, I wanted more.
"Can you take it, bitch?" he asked. Him calling me "bitch" just made me want it even more.
"Yes, please, oh, please, slide it into me. I need to feel it!"
He was happy to oblige. He pushed into me. My insides gripped at him and my cock spasmed as he buried himself deep. I could feel the heat from his body against me. I could feel the weight he was putting onto me. He began thrusting, fucking me. I was his now, completely. My hands clutched at the feet of the ottoman while he slammed me, again and again.
His hands grasped my ass, wrapping around to my hops, pulling me against him. Fucking me, grunting like an animal, possessing me.
"Oh, yes," he moaned and I felt his cock twitching inside of me, pulsing, cumming.
He started to pull out. "No, wait! Tony! Keep it inside of me, just for a little longer," I begged. He waited, his cock slowly getting softer, sliding out naturally, his breath going from ragged pants back to normal.
I lay there a little while longer, feeling his cum dripping out of me. I asked, "Will you do that again to me? Next time we're together?"
"Sure," he sighed. "Can't get enough, can you, fag?"
This made my cock twitch again. I could only answer, "Yes, sir."
And that's how it's been since. On occasion he'll want things outside of our nights together. When he was going through a rough patch with his Marsha, I would meet him in the parking garage after work and suck him off before we both went home to our wives. I'm still all man to my Missus but when Tony and I get together, I'm his bitch, completely.
Nov 22, 2008
Nov 14, 2008
Nov 12, 2008
Nov 5, 2008
Secret Desires
I can't stop thinking about it. I keep trying to drive it out of my head because I don't want to admit that it's on my mind at all. But, no matter how hard I try, it's still there. It's haunting me.
Two weeks ago, my girlfriend invited her old boyfriend over to our apartment for dinner. There was a lot of wine and, despite my discomfort, a lot of flirting. Sharon couldn't seem to keep her hands off of Charlie, her former flame. For a little while, I almost felt like I wasn't in the room at all; that it was all some kind of bad dream. That was until Sharon turned to Charlie and told him what a good lover he was and how unsatisfied she's been with me for the four years we've been together.
"I'm serious, Charlie. He's awful. His dick is too small and he can't eat pussy to save his life. I want him to be good at something; I mean, I love having him around but he can't please me."
The silence was deafening. It seemed like everything was hinging on the next words to come out of her mouth.
"I'd like to see what he can do for you, though, if you're open to it," she said with a smile, her hand on his knee.
The grin on Charlie's face unfurled as he pushed back from the dinner table and began undoing his pants. "Certainly, I'll see if he can be of any use."
"Okay, Louis, let's see what you can do."
I don't know what possessed me. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the tone of her voice. Maybe it was the chance to make good in Sharon's eyes. Maybe it was the sight of Charlie's cock as he released it from his pants. My eyes were drawn to it and I couldn't look away. I felt like a sleepwalker as I knelt and crawled to him.
I took him in my hands, amazed by the sheer weight of his organ. It wasn't some freakishly huge porn star penis, but, still, I was taken aback by its girth and the way it felt in my hands as I began stroking it. I loved the touch of it, the way it reacted, the life there in Charlie's cock. There was something beautiful about it. Something compelling. I put my mouth on it to kiss it and felt it jerk and jump under my lips. I put it between them, putting it into my mouth and feeling the velvety smoothness of his cockhead against my tongue.
I felt his fingers enter my hair and take ahold. He began moving me up and down the length of his cock, pushing it further and further into my mouth, pushing me all the way down and holding me there, my eyes watering and gagging slightly. I could feel the tight flesh of his balls under my chin.
As he held me there, it felt like a floodgate were opening in my head, something changing inside of me. And then I felt another flood as his cock leaped and spat, filling my mouth and throat with his warm liquid. As I swallowed, it felt as if I were imbibing a new life...but a life that I would deny.
Now it's two weeks later and I can't get the thought of Charlie's cock out of my head. I can't stop thinking about that evening and wanting it to all happen again, and more. I've lain awake at night imagining Charlie taking me up in his arms, holding me, hugging me. I've thought about us laying in bed together, him behind me, spooning me, feeling the hardness of his cock rousing beneath my bottom and thinking about how it might feel to have him slide it inside of me, into my ass.
This is terrible. This is something I can't admit to Sharon, to Charlie, to anyone. I don't even know if Charlie is the man that I've been thinking of, but that I've been thinking of any man at all, wanting this, is disastrous. I never thought like this before. These kind of thoughts have never crossed my mind but, now, they're all I ever think about.
Worse, Sharon keeps reminding me about our time with Charlie. She's brought it up every day since then and has invited him over again tonight. She keeps referring to me as her "little cocksucker" and, every time she does it, I get aroused. I can't tell her that, of course. I frown and shake my head and secretly hope that he will put me on my back, raise my legs above his shoulders, and make me his tonight.
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