The Exquisite Corpse is a community writing project organized and edited by Lady Nej. Thank you Nej and thank you to all of our participants!
By: Diana, Eli, Madeline, Tempest, Paine & Bambi
Edited by Nej
She had this vague idea of all of this, and all that was in her mind was: How the heck was she going to do with a fucking ghost for a sub? The dumb spirit had no idea that he had been killed in a dungeon...now he was there, asking to be of service.
The spirit look around, and the surroundings were not clear. It was as if the whole world was covered with layers of mist. The gray walls added to the effect. Looking around, the spirit saw people moving around, some passing right through him, not aware of his presence. "Hey there", he spoke to the Lady who approached him, she didn't see him, nor was she aware of his non stop hellos. What happened to me, he wondered. Why can't people see me? Am I dead, have I become a ghost? Oh my, what am I going to do? How can be I be of service if I am dead. A dead ghost service sub? I must be the first of my kind.
As I move amongst the others that inhabit this world -- the the sightless, the clumsy, the unenlightened, the common man, -- I find them uninteresting as companions, but amusing to hunt. During the day, I break into their empty homes, carefully picking their locks or sneaking in a basement window. I touch their silky things and I roll gleefully in their beds. Sometimes, I pull delectables from their kitchens, but mostly, I retire to a basement or an attic to wait for my prey. I have been quietly subduing them in these prosaic spots for years and dragging them home for dinner for as long as I can remember.
Dinner was a sumptuous affair, resplendent with the rarest finds that scatter the forest. A rich hunting ground to replenish the larder. Today's feast consist of root vegetable, stuffed baby pig, roasted slowly on the spit, the crackling evenly salted. As is tradition, the pig's mouth was stuffed with an apple; but, I like to add a little something to tradition; out of evenly bored holes through the apple were five slimy grubs. A little hard not to notice as it made quite the statement. It's not quite the same without sun dried newts arranged around the roasted carcass, their sunken eyes peering out in silent complaint. I chuckle a little, as I place a a small flower in the mouth of one. "So pretty," I murmur. My dinner companions remain silent, adding to the eerie air about the group. Each one strapped to their dining chairs with black silken ropes. Their mouths gagged in the same manner.
They were pretty specimens each one, a little worse for wear perhaps after all these years, but beneath the bruises there were sensuous lips, hard lean bodies, and amongst them a pair of piercing crystal eyes that sparkle, watching carefully. I'm rather fond of those eyes, they radiate a steely intelligence. They are all cherished pets, but I like him the most. I raise my eyes to meet his and was not disappointed to find our eyes locked together. I smile, as I smooth the flimsy blood red fabric of my gown, chosen because of the contrast between the deep red hues and my pale translucent skin, that somewhat illuminated the room. Candles glowed from silver candelabra, casting a dim light in contrast to my own luminescence. I walk over to him as I addressed the room, "Are you hungry boys?" and from behind I skilfully untied the gag from his mouth, allowing the dark silk to slide and fall to the floor; other eyes flash to attention at my words.
Watching the silk scarf slowly float to the floor, I should be terrified but I'm not as I move through the chill of death and decay unnoticed, creeping closer and closer towards the front of the crowd. My senses are on fire with the scent of his fear thick in the air and the pounding of his racing heart like a jack hammer in my mind. Drop by drop, beads of sweat form on his brow, slowly roll down his flushed face and come to rest on his clinched jaw before falling off. "Are you hungry?" she muses to a dimly lit room filled with lusting monsters hungry with an unforgiving appetite for blood. Their cold, dead eyes glaring up at her and then quickly darting back at him with anticipation. My heart's beating with pure hatred now as I finally reach the edge of the crowd, "Yes I'm hungry you fucking dead bitch, but what I thirst for is justice, not blood and I shall have it, have it at any cost. The boy is mine and I will take him!"
I stalked across the field crop in hand. Grabbed his collar and dragged him to an ancient, oak tree, tying his wrists then ankles behind his back around the huge trunk. His naked body shone in the moonlight, and I smacked my crop against his cock, hard. As it slammed into his balls I saw him jump and struggle against the chains. I pulled my arm back, and then jerked forward bringing it down hard on his balls “That’s one boy,”…. Crack…. It sounded again hard against his already red cock…. “Two, boy”, I stated flatly, “Three.” He whimpered in pain as he jerked again pulling against the restraints. “Four,” I called out again, as he whispered, “Thank you Miss.” As I cropped him, his cock grew harder and harder, "What a slut," I teased as I continued whacking his cock in fast even strokes. “You excited toy?” I barked as I smacked his cock again. “No Miss,” he stammered. “Well you will be”, He moaned again, and I could see his cock was hard. I reached down, and grabbed it, slapping it, before stroking it.. The mix of pleasure and pain was torture. I watched his face grimace with pain as the drops of cum began to leak from his hard cock. “Don’t cum boy I commanded,” He groaned again louder, grunting from the pressure as my hand slid over his hard cock stroking harder.
The End
By: Eva, Tam, Gabrielle, Susannah, Panther & Crissy
Edited by Nej
She heard her old Mercedes as it sputtered and coughed, groaning as it turned out of the drive and raced away from the house. It's been a long time since that car peeled out from anywhere. It's more used to languorous weekly drives to town to run errands, ending with a loving top off of its tank. It's probably in shock. She could hear the man's desperation in the screech of the wheels and the frantic rev of the engine. There was no chance of catching him now. But it didn't matter. She took a deep breath, and did a quick survey of the room. It was what she supposed one would call the parlor in an old, more than slightly dilapidated farm house. A few pieces of furniture were placed like sentinels around the room: a dubious looking wooden chair with flaking blue paint, what used to be called a hope chest, now filled with old newspapers and Sears Christmas catalogs, and a small lacquered end table with a faded doily on top. An ornate fireplace dominated one side of the room, topped with a faux Napoleonic Empire hawk that looked down at her menacingly, as if he too were outraged at his incongruity. Crouching down, she picked up the grey striped shirt the man had dropped in his haste. Her fingers bunched the brushed cotton together and kneaded it softly as she stood up. She figured there was probably ten miles worth of gas in the car, give or take. She'd have to go out and get him at some point, but not just yet. She figured she'd let him suffer a bit. He'd left everything behind as he ran out of the house, even his wallet. There was nothing for miles and miles, not even a neighbour, never mind a gas station or telephone. Besides, he didn't know the area. She didn't dislike the idea of him being lost and helpless. If it weren't for the inconvenience, she might have even relished it. Why couldn't he have just trusted her, she wondered. Then she stopped, tilted her head and looked over her shoulder. She'd heard the chains in the basement gingerly start to rattle. She dropped the shirt to the floor. She better go deal with the other one first.
Because this one seemed to need a rest. After hours in the dungeon where She tortured him with salt on his feet, then calling the goats in, he was not in the best shape anymore. So She laid him back in the coffin and turned Her attention to the other one. A mean expression draw around the edges of Her lips, then She posed in front of him, knowing he couldn't move a bit. Not his body, not his hands, barely his mind. In front of the fire, She started to sway Her hips, then Her whole body in slow seductive moves, knowing in what state She would lead him without mercy. In the flickering light of the fire She danced his eyes out of the head, his mind out of his body and his cock in a useless erection. His unsteady panting breath and every now and then a dry swallow told Her that She had him ready for the next step.
She ordered him to undress immediately. When he hesitated, she quickly slapped his face, leaving him stunned; his cheek stinging from the slap and turning a bright pink.
"When I give you a command, I expect it to be followed...BOY." She said with a sneer. "Y...y...yes, Ma'am" he stammered and clawed at his clothing - trying to get it off quickly enough to avoid another slap...and her disapproval. She was holding the jar of mustard in one hand and had picked up a paintbrush with the other. "Come on, let's go - I want to see you covered in mustard before I return." She handed him the pot and the brush and turned to leave. "Oh and boy....don't you DARE miss a spot...or there WILL be consequences," she said in a low and dangerous tone.
Having just had her orgasm, and ordered him to clean the results of her squirting, she propped up on her elbows to watch him dutifully licking. Her boy begins with very gentle licks along her soaked seams, making sure to avoid her engorged clit in the process as he knows the punishment from that having experienced it before. Following her personal clean up, he backs away, still on hands and knees following the trail of her still warm cum. He smiles and shakes his head in amazement that she doesn't drown him in the process every time.
Closing his eyes to take a breath, then opening them again, he gasps in amazement to find himself in his car again. Tilting sideways in the ditch after the collision, his driver side window broken, the rain now coming in it and showering him. He shakes the water from his eyes and with shaking hands tries to get his fingers to work the seatbelt to release it. His head throbs in time to the fast beating of his heart and he feels a panic arise. He remembers... the dark figure, the chase, the crash... it all comes back in a rush. Fear grips him as he looks up and sees the dark figure looming just outside the car, waiting for him with a toothy grin.
The End
By: Gaeth, Tika, Chaotic, Olive, Summer & Persephone
Edited by Nej
The stirring began. I don't know where it started, but I felt it in my limbs, and felt it moving inward to the core and I knew that I would open my eyes and see her standing over the coffin-like box in which she kept me. She'd be wearing that smirk of possession as she watched the power to move course through me. Then she would say, "Rise", and I would rise and follow her and she would use me until she was weary, and then I would die again.
All this I told the therapist that, listening with worried expression on her face, handed me one napkin after another so I could wipe my face of tears. I felt liberation by finally getting it all told, the nightmare, the humiliation, all the women who had humiliated and exploited me in the last few weeks of my life. In the beginning I was afraid that she, the therapist would not believe my story. I mean ... some people find it hard to believe that there are places like Dominion, where evil women live out their secret sadistic desires on innocent victims like me. Some people would think that I fantasized if I told them that these women, who seem to live ordinary lives as ordinary women are in fact demons, creatures without human emotions, able to turn themselves into these sex-hungry, bloodthirsty man-eaters when night falls. The therapist got up from her chair, after I had finished my speech and stood silent for a moment in front of me. I measured her with my eyes as if to read what she would say ...
Her face gave nothing away. Then she began to speak. "You don't know the history of it. You can't begin to realize what is tied up in all of this. You will never know." She shook her head, the unreadable mask of her face fracturing just a bit, giving me a look into the horror of which she spoke. I was taken aback. I wanted to run, I wanted to hide, but to where? We were stuck here, I was trapped with this broken person, with no way out.
Looking around I decided there were two ways I could handle this situation. I could embrace it or I could fight it. If I were honest with myself I would have to admit there was something inside me stirring in this situation. I was exhilarated and my excitement was growing with each passing moment. Focusing on the broken person next to me I began to see them with new eyes. No longer a leaden weight to be stuck with but someone with whom I could explore this dark side of myself. My mind froze for a moment as I realized what this thought meant for me and I came to terms with what I was about to do.
I quickly telephoned the take out shop and ordered Chinese. I needed a full meal in my belly to complete this task. It arrived quickly and I gobbled it up. Wiping my mouth, I realized that my hands were sticky with sauce and I snapped my fingers, summoning my slave who cowered behind a chair. I held out both hands as he licked them clean. His first meal of the day. I lay back and slowly pulled my skirt up, allowing him to peek at what was underneath. He slavered and begged. With another quick hand motion he went silent and I could see his eyes searching for glimpse of what made his world go around. I snapped my fingers again and he retreated back behind the chair. What a good boy he is! He has taken to training well. Perhaps I'll list him on Craigslist: Free filthy sub to good owner. Non returnable.
That was impossible to do he might get some super hot Domme who was too soft, his reward for being a shitty sod must be deliciously dastardly and cruel. I paced the floor in my Docs, still covered in subbie detritus, and pondered on his fate. His experience needed to be satisfying to me in a way he had never been.
The 'solution' presented itself soon afterwards in an unexpected and twisted way. A few days before Halloween I met up with an old friend, he was actually my father's friend but his range of knowledge and and deep philosophical ramblings made him a stimulating companion. We sat in a central coffee shop with autumn leaves swirling in the gutters and it is here in these innocuous surroundings that my sub's fate was sealed. The guy, Max, is very astute and certainly identified my Dommie predilections without me saying anything a long time ago. He also guessed that something was playing on my mind and asked me if I wanted to share it. I explained the situation without divulging too many details and said I would welcome any ideas as to how best to 'deal' with my boy. His solution almost resulted in coffee being expelled down my nose through a combination of laughter and shock. Once I had recovered we spent an hour discussing the finer details of a highly simple yet effective plan.
October 31st arrived, my Boy and I prepared to leave for what what I had described to him as a kinky Halloween party. He was blindfolded for the journey, that sort of stuff has always thrilled him and up to now he had no reason to think I'd keep him anything other than safe. What happens next is 'the plan' that had been discussed. Before we came too close to our destination I stopped and cuffed him, all locked up and blind, perfect for my plan.
I turned off the road towards an ancient manor house and came to a halt on the graveled path. Doors slammed, voices were raised; I pushed him towards the door, which swung open as we approached. Another world unfolded before my eyes the sixteenth century true to every detail. Ensconced before a huge open grate sat five hooded and cloaked figures. Max's voice echoed in the vast expanse of the room,
'We are present to worship the Goddess present among us'
Thinking on my feet I responded with,
'I bring a gift with which you may celebrate the turning of the seasons'
I watched the night slip by, served wine and fruit by the other males present, I watched while they used the boy over and over until his arse no longer puckered but gaped red and bruised.
He never used his safe word.
Next day I left him there.
Removed all traces of his presence from my apartment.
Erased him from my life.
Sometimes I ponder if Craigslist would have been the gentler option; No...... that was the best Halloween ever I loved every moment of his humiliation and pain.
And,
I have met another boy who just might be the next Halloween sacrifice.
THE END
