Confession by Monty

It might have been any other day in his life.  Another week had come and gone and he was looking forward to a nice lazy weekend, not really expecting anything much from it.

Least of all had he expected that he would meet her, someone who reminded him so much of himself, someone who would reflect so much of his own personality.  It was almost uncanny. He woke up late, far later than usual to be honest, and unbeknown to him, he had already met her the day before.   The time spent had been very casual, and while a pleasant feeling had been there, he had not allowed himself to think much more on the matter.  As the day went by not much transpired.  He then heard her speaking and he saw her, but still did not realize that she was slowly burrowing her way into his mind.

His mind slowly began spinning, his thoughts of her becoming more frequent until he had to admit to himself that she had been on his mind all day.  He had no idea how this had happened. Was it something she had said? Something she had done? Deciding that the only way to make sense of his feelings were to write them down he decided to do just that.  He sat down and wrote a letter, not really intending for moment that would eventually end up in her hands. Every thought he had of her went on this paper, every emotion stirred by her.   In short, everything that he had been thinking of all day. He looked at the time, realizing he had spent well over three hours composing this rather simple letter. Was it really that hard to explain to himself what he was feeling, and what he wanted?  He sighed heavily, put the paper aside, and decided he was done.

Later that day, she was back again and he found his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her. He had not admitted anything to her of course -- not openly at any rate. As a matter of fact, he was still coming to terms with his feelings himself. He did, however, strike up a conversation with her that day.  They spent most of the evening chatting, and before he knew it he had told her about the letter he had written. He shared it with her; he shared his thoughts that had never really been intended for anyone else.

She read it, and she smiled as she did. He felt as if he wanted to crawl under a rock and hide, not because he was ashamed of what he felt, but because he felt he had failed to put into words what it was that he was experiencing. To his surprise, soon after she had read what he had written about her, about what he had been thinking, she revealed that she had indeed done something similar.

She had written something as well, and whilst his had been a shambles of a letter with thoughts and ideas crisscrossing the paper, she had put together something that would have been an experience for anyone, a first draft of how she could imagine a man's submission. He had been allowed to read this, and he did so with great interest, hanging on most every word as the images begun flaring in his head as an effect of her words. As he put her letter down, his face slightly flushed and his heart racing he looked at her, he didn't say anything.  Was this.. in reference to him?

Silently he sat for a few moments before he parted his lips to speak.  No words came. It was as if every want he had expressed in his mind had been filled in that single letter she had written, as if she had been inside of his head, picking out the bits that she knew would make him gasp, that would make him nervous, and had then put every last one of those things down for him to read.

"This was written.. for me, 'bout me, Miss?" he asked her cautiously. She nodded with a bright smile on her face, that face, her smile. It made him melt, and he didn't have the words to tell her how it made him feel, but every time she flashed it at him, he knew exactly where he wanted to be: with her, by her side, one way or another.

The evening went on and they kept on talking.  Time flew, and before he knew it, it was already past the time when he was supposed to leave, so, with a sad smile, he admitted to having to leave her. Before he left she let him know that she expected him to do some 'writing' with her the next day, since they had already written to each other. The time was set and, eager for it to arrive, he went to sleep.

When morning came he got himself ready for work as usual. She would remain on his mind all day. As the day finally drew towards the end of work, he spoke to her briefly.  She let him know that he needed two ribbons. Without question he accepted this, his own dirty mind already having an idea what they might be used for. Little did he know, what he had in mind would be prove insignificant compared to what she had planned.

As he came home he took some time to practice a few positions she had told him the night before that she enjoyed . It was fairly easy, he thought, to master them and to then take a couple of photos. The painstaking part would be to find one he deemed good enough for her. The hours seemed to slow before she was to arrive.  His mind was very much focused on what was to come, or, at least, what he thought was to come.

The hour struck and within moments they were together. She had prepared some things for his writing:  a simple desk, a small cushion, and a blackboard. He felt slightly confused. He honestly had not expected that he would get  much actual writing done; he still had no idea what would happen.

She commanded him to strip and to position himself in one of the positions she had taught him.  He did so and she smiled slightly before she began writing on the blackboard. "Get hard" he read as she moved out of the way. He looked at her with eyes wide but he only briefly hesitated. He grabbed hold of his cock and begun pulling at it to make it hard; that did not take long. Soon he was sat on the cushion with a massive erection visible to the lady standing before him. He lowered his head and read the blackboard once more.

"Stroke with your left hand, and write with your right" he read. He smiled slightly and then did just that. The smile was simply because he knew, then and there, that he would get little or no writing done. His breathing grew heavier as he stroked for her.  She prompted him to write, and she inspired him. Very little of what he put down on paper was actually very readable, but he was not scolded for this.  Clearly that was not her intention. Soon the words written on the blackboard prompted him to switch hands.  He did, finding it even harder to write with his left hand; even less was put down on the paper.  His breathing became heavier and faster. Clearly he was growing closer to release.  Throughout this all she guided him, telling him what to write, and what not to, telling him if he was to stop touching or to go faster. He was obedient. He wanted this. He wanted to belong to her.

Somehow each time he came too close, she knew -- and made him stop. He did not know how much time had passed before she  once more looked at him with that smile on her lips. At this point he had not been allowed to touch for awhile.  Her smile turned a little bit crooked as she spoke: "You have 30 seconds to cum".   She stated it matter-of-factly.  Almost instantly he was frantically stroking trying to reach his climax in the time allowed. He did not care if he was loud or if he sounded silly. He was desperate to cum and he had a feeling that if his time limit were missed, he would not be allowed to do so.

The time passed, second by second, and he grew more frantic in his stroking. The sounds were obvious; nobody would have been oblivious to what he was doing were they to have heard him. With three seconds left he grunted loudly and managed to cum.  His cum shot from his cock-head and over his own body.  The sticky mess reached his chin, covered his chest and slowly dripped down from there. His breathing did not really slow.  He was panting,as if it had been a huge effort for him to cum, though he was utterly content.  Soon he composed himself.

"Thank you Miss," he said in a clear tone, though he was still rather breathy. She did not say much. Clearly, she had not finished with him. He was told to go clean himself up and, putting the paper and pen aside, he did so, only taking a few minutes to wash the cum off his body so that he would once more be presentable. He returned to the cushion and he seated himself before her again.   He resumed writing.

Honestly, he thought that was that. He figured that she had had her way and that she would now make him finish the story he was working on. He was very much mistaken. Within a couple of minutes the blackboard screeched once more as she wrote again. "Get hard" it said once more. He looked at the board, and then he looked at her, not overly confident that he could manage to please her with only a couple of minutes between commands.  Nonetheless he did as the board commanded and he  once more began touching himself in order to get himself erect for her.  It took a little bit longer this time than the first time for sure, but soon enough he was again hard . She had been watching him, criticizing him for taking too long. Her comments had only spurred him to try even harder.  It clearly worked.

"Now then..." She spoke aloud this time. "I want you to stroke your cock for me again. Come on.  Do it now!" Her voice was like honey to a bee for him. He could not help but want to obey her, and -- as her command was to touch himself -- he was not exactly objecting to that.  He begun stroking -- fast hard strokes for her. A moment later she again was writing on the board.

"Thirty seconds to cum" it read. He groaned.  He did not think he could manage another orgasm so quickly, but again he frantically stroked to please her, to give her what she wanted.  This time she had set a timer on the desk. It counted down the seconds and he could see his opportunity slipping from him. The seconds dropped away one by one as he stroked like a mad man. In the last few seconds left he knew it was futile, but, even so, he did not stop. He kept stroking to and then through the time limit and then stopped, with a loud groan followed by what was almost a laugh

 "Miss.. I'm sorry I could not!" he exclaimed, addressing her.  She laughed and smiled. Clearly she had not expected that he would cum.  Was there an ulterior motive to this, or was she  perhaps just enjoyed his squirming? With a little nod she pointed towards the ribbons she had made him buy earlier that day.

"I want that ribbon, made into a bow tie, around your cock," she said, still smiling. He reached for the ribbon, and he cut a piece of it off. He then carefully slipped it around his shaft and he tied a knot, trying hard to make the bow tie as perfect as he could for her.

"Good boy, now what do you think that ribbon means?" she asked. He thought for a moment, his mind aflutter. The first orgasm and the denial of a second one, combined with trying to write something, had him stuttering and fumbling for words. He could not think straight.  'Was this the effect she had on him?', he found himself wondering.

"I uhm.. perhaps.. It's.."  He fell silent.   The answer might have been obvious, but his mind refused to function. She laughed at his incoherence, clearly amused by his bewilderment.

"This first ribbon symbolizes what might be. It's a symbol of what might in the future be a collar around your neck. For now it means your cock belongs to me." She paused briefly. "Now, why do you think you have two ribbons?"she asked him.

Again his mind could not grasp what she wanted.  He stumbled trying to find an answer and finally blurted out  "I do not know, Miss!" His voice was pleading and conveyed that he felt he was letting her down. That was the last thing he wanted to do. She still looked amused;  she did not scold him or degrade him in any way for not knowing.

"The reason you have two ribbons is because if that cock belongs to me, I do not want a dirty ribbon around it. You need to be able to change it when you get yourself dirty."

He found himself smiling. His mind was running; every word she had said about the meaning of the ribbon to the cleanliness of it, stuck with him. He found himself straightening up for her, and a sense of pride washed over him.  He now felt that he had earned something from her.

With this they finished their 'writing' for the day. She asked him if he wanted to continue writing together, and he promptly responded that this was something he was very eager to do indeed. They spent the remainder of their night together.  When it was finally time for them to part he went to bed still wearing his ribbon.  It was tied tight around his cock. Her cock.

Kisses by Lady Crissy

The first kiss, on his nipple,
tongue darting to flick.
Tightness

The second kiss, on his neck,
teeth biting down.
Shuddering

The third kiss, on his ass,
nipping and pulling at the flesh there.
Clenching

The fourth kiss, on My cock,
licking lips first to moisten.
Moaning

The fifth kiss, with a smile on my face, on his lips,
possessing with passion and pressure.
Owned.

Marching Etc. by Doc

Marching,
Drilling regular verbs,
Washing dishes,
Giving backrubs.


Pumping iron,
Hiking up mountains,
Weeding,
Giving her head.


Going to class,
Reporting for orders,
Turning in reports,
Scrubbing the floor.


Returning greetings,
Smiling for the camera,
Complimenting couples on their home,
Telling her that her dress is very nice.


Passing through metal detectors,
Signing the deposit slip,
Clicking on the word ‘agree’,
Saying ‘Yes, dear!’


Life consists in going along.
Not staying out past curfew.
Obeying the rules.
Making her happy.


It’s all about being part of society.
“Love it or leave it.”


We are social animals.
We live in the web.
We love spiders.
They spin webs for us.
We struggle vainly, but ultimately
The Black Widow needs to eat.
We need to be consumed.
We need to have a purpose.

She knows that.
So do we.

We are part of great whirling mandala.
Yin and yang.
Caught together in that mystery.
Ultimately to be devoured.
Our demise just one more phenomenon
In a mad, mindless world.

Our sacrifices give it purpose
We imbue it with meaning.

We love it.
And then we leave it.

Origin by Lady Danika

Sometimes we find our power in darkness -- behind closed doors, behind fear, behind tragedy. Sometimes it is buried deep within us and we find it only after it is pulled forth and snapped against our skin like a rubber band. It was there all along, sure, but sometimes we have to face bitter truths first...

This is my story... the origin of my Dominance and where it was born.

On my 16th birthday the boy I had been dating told me he had a gift for me.  We went back to his house and into his bedroom. We hadn't been dating long but I'd been to his house a few times. His parents were indifferent people, seldom there and working often.  He took me to his bedroom and closed the door for privacy since his sister was home. And then he locked it so she wouldn't come in. He'd done this before and so I didn't think much of it.

I sat down on the edge of his bed since there were no chairs in the room. It was a small room after all. And he turned on music... I will never forget the song. "I Swear" by John Michael Montgomery began looping in the background. To this day, I vomit if I hear that song...

That was when he jumped me and pulled the butterfly knife.  He said, "Scream and I'll cut you." And I believed him... and so I did what he told me to do. I took off my clothes and he took my virginity... violently... while I lay there with a fist in my mouth and a knife to my throat.

Afterward, I told my mother. She accused me of lying and then refused to talk about it any more. I never mentioned it again.  Instead... I started sleeping around. If it had two legs and a cock, I slept with it. Self imposed punishment I suppose. I thought I deserved it. Or I thought, if it was my choice, somehow I controlled it.

A year later, I met an older man. He was 37 and I was passing for 18.  He had no idea that I wasn't -- for a while.  I'm sure that would have changed things.  He took me under his wing. For a long time we were just friends. He told me I was beautiful. I remember the night we met. He used a handkerchief to wipe the too-red lipstick off my face and took the Mad Dog out of my hand. "You're underage. You don't want to get caught with that."

He became my protector... though it was clear pretty quickly who controlled the relationship.  For the first time ever I had power. A few months later he wanted sex... Instead of forcing me, he asked and I said, "No" and he listened and I liked it. I liked saying, "No."  Instead... I teased him, making him lie on the bed while we were both fully clothed... straddling him and pushing my mound into the bulge of his swollen cock beneath his zippered jeans until I came and he groaned and turned his head and bit his pillow.

I broke up with him when I left for college. He wrote me desperate letters for a long time afterward.  Sometimes they were angry... sometimes they were pleading... sometimes they were sad. I took pleasure in them all... mainly because they made me feel powerful. I could say "No." I had the power to say "No."  It was a heady thing even though I missed him.

When his mother died, I almost send him a sympathy card.  I sometimes regret that I didn't.

The Macabre Train: The Conclusion by Lady Panther

He’s shocked out of his ecstasy with one ‘thwap’ of pain across his ass.  She begins to land several small stinging strokes with something he’s never felt before.  His mind tries to identify the source of the pain; it feels familiar but not quite the same as a cane.

The welts appear immediately on his ass, unmistakable red stripes as she disperses them evenly over his entire buttocks.  Smiling as she works this instrument, she instructs her slave to get to work again. “Suck him dry, my sweet!”

Her slave quickly crawls before the man and licks the juices of the lady who was kind enough to leave her essence behind on him.  She savors every lick and teases the man as she does.  So turned on by her Mistress working him over, as well as the build up to this expected moment, she is hungry and eager to please.  She takes him into her mouth and massages him with lustful expertise.

His legs shaking, his body so used, his strength weakens from the small loss of blood and the sensations he’s borne already.  The noose tightens as he dangles there, becoming even more drained.  He tries to summon himself to no avail. He’s unable to fight the need to orgasm, yet frustratingly unable to do so now without more pain.

He thrusts himself into the slave’s mouth. She does not back down as she knows her purpose in this.  Her Mistress stops with the light whacks across his buttocks.  She stands back a pace and applies some cinnamon oil along the very thin black and very flexible car antenna.  Ensuring the tip is well oiled, she draws it back like a bow and simply lets go.  The tip digs into his upper back as the rest summons a large line of a welt.  She repeats, drawing back the same length and letting it go.

The Mistress re-oils the antenna and meticulously goes back over all of the former strikes.  She increases the bowing of the antenna, increasing the pain, splitting the welts as she goes.  Blood mixing with the oils, his skin utterly marred and burning with the sting and the heat of the oil.  Her relentless strikes are delivered with the smile of a sadist.  The gleam in her eye is unmistakable to those around her as she works this canvas.

He whines in pain and pleasure again.  His thrusts into the slave increase in pace as the pain reverberates like shock waves throughout his body.  His body thrusting upon each stroke of her tool, further increasing the tightness of the noose, his air harder to draw, the blood flow to his brain decreased as it is concentrated in his manhood and his wounds.

She bends down to gain a better angle on his sweet spot thinking, ‘this man won’t survive much longer, and if he actually lives he won’t be able to sit for days when I’m through here.’ She draws her re-lubricated antenna back at its full angle and lets it go.  It slices into his skin effortlessly. She draws it back again, releases, and again and again.

His body fully abandoning him, he presses his behind backward for the strokes and forward for the sucking. His knees buckle as he reaches his orgasm, shooting his load into the now elated slave as he effectively hangs himself. The boy has paid his debt finally.

She rises back to her feet and the Lady with the knife cuts the noose first followed by the tethers of the wrist cuffs and then the ankle cuffs.

The sub moves back as the Ladies all surround him with apt concern and smiles while they reposition him comfortably on the floor of the car.

“Who is this delicious criminal? You never told us.” One lady says as she treats the wounds on his chest.

“I’ll show you.” She says, as she removes the sack cloth and the duct tape on his mouth.  She removes the soaked panties from his mouth and listens for breathing.  She pulls out the smelling salts she had in the ready, opens them, and places them to his nose.

He awakens instantly.  She removes his blindfold and says with a smile, “You did so very well, Owen.”

Gasps of shock and awe, eyes darting to each other as the Ladies realize the full implications of what they’ve just done and with whom they’d just done it.

The Lady stands and smiles. “You’re welcome, Ladies, and Owen, your slate is now clean!”  She walks out of the car as the Ladies are left stunned and happily surprised and their subs tend to Owen’s wounds.

                                                    The End..

The Taking by Lady Chaotic

We're dressed nicely after having been out at some vague location.

You are in a dark suit, white shirt with French cuffs and cuff links, dimpled tie, perfectly polished shoes and a pocket square.  I appreciate your look, but your attitude:  cocky, strutting, overbearing.  I smile softly to myself, thinking of how your little world is about crash down around you.

Me: I'm wearing a black dress, skirt to mid thigh, wrap-around, held together by only a tiny snap and a knotted bow.  Underneath, the classy understated silky dress is where the real show is.  Black lingerie, thigh high stockings and garter belt..  My feet are tucked into those impossibly high heels I showed you that one day.  My hair is down, straight and dark, falling onto my face in a sheet, until I smooth it away again.

I take your hand, and lead you into an almost bare room, my heels first clicking on the polished wooden floor, then softly padding on the thick area rug in the middle of the room.

I smile at you, and I slowly ease off your jacket, throwing it in a corner of the room, dismissing your expensive Armani armor.  Removing your cuff links, I run my hands up your arms, on the inside of your sleeves, feeling your toned muscles.  You just stand quietly and watch me intently, your eyes not leaving my face.  Pulling on your tie, I remove that too, quickly opening your shirt, almost popping buttons in the process.  Open and loose, your shirt hangs off your arms, mostly off your body, and I just stare at what I now claim as mine.

Even with these high high heels, I barely reach your shoulders, so I run my fingers through your hair and pull you down for a kiss, hungrily sucking and biting your lips.  As I devour you with my mouth, you push your tongue past my lips and I stop, slowing down and letting you explore, and giving you the semblance of leading.  I then start plotting, because that will be the last time that you will lead. Tangling my hands in your hair, I pull gently, scraping my short nails down your neck, across your shoulders, and over your chest.  Your stomach tenses as I continue downward, but then I stop at the top of your pants to suddenly reach up and yank your shirt off.  Throwing it with your discarded tie, I back up and grab some scarves nearby. As I retreat, you move forward and reach out to untie my dress, pulling it roughly 'til the snap pops and it opens.  You lean forward and grab my wrist, pulling me to you, pressing up against me as you ease my dress from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, your eyes never leaving mine, and your face so close I can feel your breath on my neck.  You make no move to kiss me.

I smirk and I lift a scarf to your face, wrapping it around your head twice, blindfolding you.  Walking you backwards a few steps, I take each hand and loosely tie each to a bar hanging from the ceiling by a chain, fastening you so that your hands are shoulder's width apart.

Quickly I unbuckle your belt and I open your pants, pulling them down to your ankles.  Your cock is semi-hard and it is growing as I kneel to nuzzle it through your boxers.   Then I slowly pull your them down your thighs, leaving them at your ankles along with your pants.  I nuzzle and kiss the under side of your cock, mouthing it and licking at your balls as a tease.  I love torturing you and making you suffer you this way.  Taking control, I keep you guessing.  Will I stop?  No!  No, not yet.

Sliding the tip of my tongue from the base of your cock to its tip, I slurp it just a bit, wrapping my lips around the tip and sucking it hard loving the feeling of it growing in my mouth.  I stroke my hand over your shaft .  Kissing along the length of it, I leave a wet trail from my tongue as I make my way up your stomach, kissing you as I move first to your belly button, then up to your chest.  I only pause to nestle the cleavage of my soft tits around your cock and then to give you a bit of a stroke, licking the tip of your cock after each down stroke.

I notice you succumbing to me, the proof being your slight hip thrusts.  I deny you, standing up and then walking around you, trailing my hand over your chest and then around your side and over to your back -- just to let you know where I am.  Wrapping my arms around you I press myself against your back, pushing my breasts into it, rubbing them back and forth, letting the lace scratch you a bit as you squirm.  Releasing you, I reach behind my back, unhook my bra, pull it off and return to rubbing you with my breasts.  My hard nipples flatten against your back as I rub against you from side to side, my hands stroking your hips and thighs.

Stepping backward a few paces, I take a moment to admire your full, rounded ass, your muscular back and your strong legs.  I am feeling moved by the sight of you: my beautiful monster, my animal, my creature. Mine.  I then drop to one knee and I kiss each ass cheek, nipping along each luscious curve.  I delight in the way your firm, muscled ass cheek springs back from my teeth.  I work my way to the center crevice, and, parting your ass cheeks, run my tongue along the crack.   I concentrate on your center, flicking and rubbing my tongue over it, then gently blowing cool air on it, watching it clench and unclench as your hips push back for me, wanting more and more.  Poking my tongue in, I slap one ass cheek, then the other, leaving my hand prints there.  I dip my head down to lick and suck your balls; then I trail my tongue over your taint and back to your ass.  The taste of you makes my mouth water and I leave your asshole very wet.  As I sink my teeth into your left ass cheek, I push my right thumb firmly but gently against your pucker, reaching around with my left hand to your throbbing, dripping cock.  I squeeze your shaft tightly and push my thumb into you, up to the knuckle, slowly working it in and out.  Each time I push just a bit more until my whole thumb is in your ass, and I am pushing in and pulling out, thumb fucking you, faster and faster.  I stop suddenly.  My left hand moves to your hip, my thumb presses against your pucker, and I ask you -- speaking softly.

“Do you want more?”

Mutely, you just nod, your breath coming a little faster, your legs tensing as you raise yourself on your toes, using the bar that you are tied to for leverage, all the while trying to impale yourself on my thumb.  I chuckle and pull away completely.  You make a disappointed grunt.  You can hear my footsteps retreat.  You lift your head...

“Miss?”

As I answer you, you can hear the smile in my voice...

“Just a second, I'll be right there. “ I reply.

I step out of my panties and into a harness which has a soft, large dildo attached.  Slowly I begin to walk back toward you, glancing at your exposed ass as I dribble a generous amount of lube on the tip of the dildo, working the lube over the shaft.  Once I’m again close, I rub my hand over your ass crack.  I use the rest of my lube to make you ready for me.  Then I start to rub the tip up and down your crack, pausing in the center to bounce the tip of it against your asshole.  Working my hips in small circles, I work the dildo in deeper and deeper until you've taken half of its 9 inches.  Leaning over your back, I again murmur.

“Do you want more?  Tell me... “

I simultaneously reach around, stroking your cock again as I cycle the full 4 + inches in and out of your ass quickly.

“More, boy?” I ask.

Groaning, you nod, trying to push back and take more.

“No, say it!  Tell me how much you want it!”

“Miss, please fuck me deep...”

I kick your legs further apart and I grip your hips, pulling you back against me. I thrust my hips roughly against you.  I push deep and hard, holding it there, all the way in, holding it there as I stroke you slowly...

“I hope you're ready...”, I say

Not waiting for an answer, I release your cock.  Digging my fingers into your hips and pulling almost all the way out, I pounce.  Once, twice and three times.  Then I thrust roughly in -- all the way in -- and then pull out; I start a rough, fast rhythm, with one hand on your hip and the other hand reaching up to your shoulder for leverage.  I keep fucking you deeply, hard and relentlessly. Raking my clawed hands over your back, I reach up and first pull your hair, and then move both hands to pinch and pull at your nipples.  Moving my hips from side to side, I stretch you and force you to take it all..  Then I reach around again to your dripping cock, timing each stroke to match each thrust, getting a brutal rhythm going.  As I feel your cock begin to twitch and throb, the precum starts to flow freely.  Wrapping my left arm around you, I stroke you with my right hand, holding tight.  My fingers dig into your body as I fuck your ass.  Pounding you, then I whisper:

“Boy, cum for me!”

Upon hearing this command, you let out a groan, your stomach tenses, your legs buckle a bit,  and you thrust your hips so that your cock slides within my hand.

I push as deep as I can as you cum, the ropes of pearly cum splashing against your chest and dribbling down my hand.  Your breath comes in gasps and groans and your knees buckle more; you push against me, almost falling against me.  I hold you up, your arms stretched out over your head.  You remain tied to the bar, now with my dildo in your ass.  Nuzzling against you, I reach down and disconnect the dildo from its harness, leaving it inside you...

"Okay... time for round two...”

Untitled Spontaneous Confession

I am not weak.  I just can't be bothered by your bullshit.  You have no power to make me react.  I will not give you my energy.

The path of least resistance.

You make your own problem with me.  Spin away in your chaos.