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Old 10-29-2011, 12:30 AM   #26
Nina327
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Watching her watch me, Smelling me get watched...

breath mewls just watching her look at me while silvers flashed and tummy tightens, ripples... sounds echoed by each other before they are even actually made.

her voice... the same.. and echo before a sound. That space, my happy little blisses space not mindful of how i move.. just that I do. My hands part from behind my neck... as much as I like choking.. being pulled to my feet is new... at least being pulled by a rope round my neck is. Nails grasp at it as I force my gasping fighting breathing slower... slow... fully in... fully out... when i can.

Little bits and parts of me want to stomp my feet... its fleeting... it was the kicks... now over my brain settled... toes strained to find balance... that ache.. starts instantly. The one that says my legs wont last like this.. but the rope round my neck says they will. .. but slow.. my heels will slowly make it to the floor... and the rope... christ... tight... still breathing.. but so very controled... hard to control.. my hands return to the back of my neck, lacing... balanced.

Trickles crawl over skin... so slow, like wet spiders. Her feet move a way and back agian... and I can hear her once more. the words come and my body feels them. no sound.. no movement. Swallowing hard I know i need give no response. None was asked for. I know for me a reply would have been exactly what could end the play... it would have been movement or sound. But her, she would accept a reply from almost anyone else but me.

A smile... a breath and bitten lips...

Gods be thanked they were bitten... that fucking tip... right there... my ribs clench and grab my air so I don't scream, toes press the ground.... air held, and held and held .... and forced out with shivered throbbing skin...

Throbbing everywhere.. like a beacon... a point that lights the other points again and agian...

I throb.
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pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.


"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but Im just not close enough to get the job done. ~Carlin


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Old 10-29-2011, 02:26 AM   #27
Luna_Wolf72
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Smiling.

She knows me. In a way that most others can't get. She understands that any movement? Words? I will quit. If the shoe was on the other foot, SHE would quit. She would do it and not blink an eye, because we are different sorts of beings.

The crop starts slowly. Finding spots~the top of her spine, the small of her back, the shoulder, the tiny little cuts that mar her perfectly pale flesh. And she holds up so well, even though her legs are trembling. Even though I know her breath is being caught, again and again.

I decide that I should allow her to come down, without choking...and so the rope is yanked through the hook, toward me, one handed, the other hand holding the crop lightly. Soon she is flat footed but STILL in that stance...legs wide, hand clasping the back of her neck.

I stalk around the front of her...one small hand darts out~grasps, pinches, twist...itty bitty kitty clitty.

"I think I would like to use the knife...here"

A twist on pretty pink nubbin, underlining my desire.

"But I won't...and I won't allow you any noise yet either...nor movement...but if you say please...just please....I will place my mouth on this," another sharp twist of pink clit, "and lick until you cry...but you have to say please, kitty..."

The crop comes up, striking hardened nipple squarely. First one...and then the other. Perfection. So fucking pretty.
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Old 10-29-2011, 03:08 AM   #28
Nina327
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Eyes forward, a spot on the far wall as an anchor. No floating away like this. Far far to dangerous. The space between my ribs starts to burn in tandem with my skin on the outside.

She doesn't know it but the top of my spine burns, It is one of the places that make me cry in my sleep... one of the reasons i was already itching for this. And she found it, first thing... everything else bled into my heartbeat, my breath, my anchor and the sound of swish and smack. My legs shook, breath came an went.... body on the inside screaming and singing its release and that throbbing song.... that one note that if hit just right the wetness between my thighs threatens to.. to what.. embarrass me... no... its more and less than that. It's giving away a secret... but she's worth sharing secrets with.

The tendons in my feet lock as my heels rest on the floor. Biting my tongue my brain thanks her but I do not move. She's not done... gods I'm not done... one itch scratched another throbs. Funny how that works.

Then she breaks my line of site, my eyes flick, focus.... she becomes my anchor, her eyes...

She... that throb... she knows, she grabbed it... my throat closed... no noise.. only blinking, nostrils flaring, teeth fighting with teeth....

And eyes squeezed shut... knife... there..... cant... not without noise Swallowing I let air back in... but she twists and manipulates lightening

'I won't'... no noise.. no movement.... body bowstring tight.. fingers almost white holding each other.. pressing and pulling each other.. concentrate on her eyes.... 'say please... just please... mouth licking and cry...

Swallowing... must think... with twisting lightning... coiling throb that pounces from cut to welt to screaming skin to .... one.. struck... then the other..... .... and her eyes... must choose... cant make noise, cant move but must talk... or the throb will never end... left broken it will itch for days..... ... breath in..... shuttered back out..... have to find my voice... and only my voice... no sound... no whimper... don't you even dare... breath in..... and try.... open mouth.. no sound..... tongue works on the roof of my mouth... .. eyes refocus... on her's...

They never left hers.

Breath in.... voice cracks... is soft, tight, low... soooo.. very very measured. Just enough sound to make the word...

"please"
and teeth slam shut... biting off the twisted cry trying to chase the that word from her throat.....

No noise... no movement but breathing... watching... throbbing.

and a shiver that's not mine to control...
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pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.


"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but Im just not close enough to get the job done. ~Carlin



Last edited by Nina327 : 10-29-2011 at 03:10 AM.
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Old 10-29-2011, 04:08 AM   #29
Luna_Wolf72
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I hadn't expected it...not yet. She is so very strong. So very tough. So very...mine. At this time. For this moment. Right here. Mine. And she has said it. No movement. No whimpering moans. Just that one word...sounding like it is being pulled from the depths of her belly.

Please.

I fucking LOVE that word. To say it, to hear it. Bliss.

The crop is gone. I don't remember dropping it...but I must have. And I know. I KNOW that she aches, aches, aches...and she wants...my mouth...right there. And I can give it to her. soft wolf kisses on inner pink slickness.

Yes. I can.

Eyes lock to hers...and I lean in...and in...and in...til her mouth is barely grazed by mine. Because? Because softness...HURTS...when you are not expecting it. Because it fucking aches...when you need one more thing to push you over. I know kitty twin...and I know that.

Please.

I lean away and get on my knees before her. Does she see the inherent funniness of this situation? I am on my knees because she said please. Funny.

Small fingers spread juicy wetness, so wet, apart so that itty bitty pinkness stands out, a beacon, beckoning. And my mouth closes, with just a little bit of needed roughness over it, surrounding it, with warm wet heat and flickering tongue.

Swirling. Flicking. Tasting, teasing. Swirl. Flick. Tease.

Please.

One finger and then two, curl inside...feeling tight wet walls that clench and release, so sweetly. Mouth comes undone...for a moment...so that i can whisper...

"Come for me, kitty..."

And then I go to work...for real...fingers and mouth in tandem. Hard, fast. Brutality inside to match the delicate suckling, swirling, licking, flicking...of kitty clit....

Please.
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Old 10-29-2011, 05:09 AM   #30
Nina327
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Her eyes flickered, I saw them... that song.. throbs.

I can feel my eyes widen... She's closer... i can count her lashes and glittering lights dance...
lungs draw, pulling in her scent... fuck me, the smell of her, her breath.. my eyes search her face... Christ, sooo not fair. But she doesn't smell like cotton candy. No, not sweet, she smells like skin, and wood and a tiny flower I remember but can never place a petal to.

her lips brushed mine and my chest crushed my air away.... no, sound, no no no screaming want trembled from the breath let go on her face all the way to my toes. Eyes couldn't close because they were with hers.... but gods I wanted to cry, to whimper, to tackle her to the ground and take more...... that song... throbs.

I watch, she floats to the floor... I know this dance... it's mine, it's hers. It's honest and honestly the sexiest thing on the whole damned planet; to be where she is now. To give. It's a silly thing to think of a top on their knees but tis one of the most beautiful ways to be 'on top'. To give and claim that which you have worked for......

Eyes go back to the wall, not seeing it at all. I cant focus.. wont anchor. Not for this. Her lips wont let me focus anywhere else. I cant watch, I'll snap, I'll scream, moan, whimper... I'll crack... that song... throbs.

My feet tingle, the souls, plastered to the floor.... i don't know how I'm breathing....
Warm wet, soft, insistent and pushed into... my fingers hurt... they curled and clawed into the backs of each other.. Knees shake.... and air tries to go in and out at the same time...

My skin bloomed... i can feel it... its like ice on the soles of my feet that screams up every inch of flesh like a sparkler held close to my bare screaming skin. its attached to grasping lips and tongue that doesn't hold still....

But she wasn't done... I can't see... eyes closed and sound crackles, was that sound me, please not yet.... and she gives me more.. she gives my clenching cunt something to grip, to fight with.....

My breath explosed... she stopped.. it all stopped... great gasping breath... almost missing her words... but my clit didn't miss them... the little bitch twitched at her words.

My head shook from one side to the other.. moved.. by the force of repressing a scream. i Don't know how I was standing anymore... Just breathing and wound up and ... yea.. that sound was you..... gods, please don't stop.. .. Air forgot which way to go and came and went at the same time... instinct, no noise.... it choked me, it always does... but her tongue, her lips, her fingers pushed me past that choke... past that first little one... that one that releases the gates to hell.... the one that sends earthquakes to glitter through muscles... one that sends a keening cry to ears that cant hear myself.. the one that chokes me solid... no air moves even though it tries...
i cant feel my cunt leaning into her, it just does,... somewhere... faraway someone turned reality back on full blast.. Air moves, cunt fights with fingers and licked clit pulls whimpers from lips far above it... shuttering whimpers, pitched high..... 'please'
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pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.


"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but Im just not close enough to get the job done. ~Carlin


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Old 10-29-2011, 05:26 AM   #31
Luna_Wolf72
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Fingers are drenched. Arm aches ...from allowing her pubis to weigh on me so that she can continue to stand while I torment, tease, GIVE her what she craves. What she needs. Sweetness. Relief. Release.

Her body clenches, bucks. Her voice~high, breathy, a moaning song that throbs through me. A bass line to my flute. Until the music we make echoes around this very bare cavern. This place that isn't a place...but is.

With her.

I hear her. And my own cunt...squeezes. Clenches. Gushes...because that is how I am wired.

It goes on forever and not nearly long enough. But it has to end. It does end. I withdraw from her depths, my mouth stops it's pillaging of pretty kitty clitty...and I stand, holding her, hands bracing thighs, moving to hold her waist.

"Let go...let go..."

My hand removes her hands from the back of her neck. Pulling them apart, releasing them. The rope is untied, one handed. And thrown. And when she is as safe as I can make her?

I pick her up, settle her on my lap, and stroke her sensitive flesh. I should be giving after care, right now. I can't. This will have to do. Maybe, next time. For now. The needs on both sides have been sated...and we are light and dark, wolf and kitty...twins.

END SCENE
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Old 11-06-2011, 10:48 PM   #32
Luna_Wolf72
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Solo writing~a scene~The Cutter

She sits there. In the silence of her room. Bare walls. Bare floors. Bare body. Everything. All of it~dark gray. Like thunder clouds or new concrete. In her hand is one small straight razor. Pearl handled. Sharp. Very sharp. Beside her, a bucket of ice.

She places the razor in the ice and waits. Waits. Waits. Because the cold will make it sting...or not. And then maybe, she will be allowed to feel something except for gray and gray and gray.

In the distance, there is a faint sound. Running, dripping, trickling water. It causes her head to ache. Too sensitive. She is far too sensitive. And it needs to stop. Even so, she waits. Until touching the handle of the razor makes her fingers feel frozen.

Open.

A sound. THAT sound. The one that says~"Come on and release this~ in blood that drips and splatters, that courses and pools, that stops only when YOU stop." It is the refrain of a cutter. A real cutter. One who cuts so that the pain stops. Not one who cuts for attention. Not one who cuts like it will earn a fucking badge. One who cuts because the pain is overwhelming and she just wants it to fucking stop.

The first contact. Skin above the ankle bone. The letter M. Blood slips and slides. Dark red. Rich. Doesn't help, not yet. Give it time. Another letter. On the side of the calf I. Blood seeps a little faster. But she is still so very, very numb. And cold. Very fucking cold.

So she cuts faster. The knee. A slice. The thigh. A long slash that pours rich redness out on to the gray. She feels that one. Finally, she feels that one. The inner part of her arm, just below the elbow. Lightly, lightly. This is not a call for suicide. This is just...cutting. Til the hurt goes away.

From left to right and back again. Here a slice. There a tiny little mark. The blood drains, taking the coldness and the hurt...away. How can anyone think cutting is for anything other than taking the pain...away? That is what it's for. The scars on her body? All of them? Just marks of the pain that went away. A road map of the pain she conquered.

She would conquer this too.

Just not right now.

Finally. Her body. Breasts. Belly. Arms. Legs. Tanned and red. An odd sort of barber shop pole. The blood drips and runs and seeps and stops. Eventually. It stops. It always does. She drops the razor in the ice bucket and reaches for the alcohol. Because a cutter knows...that only the stinging pain makes it real. Means it's over. Means you're done. For now.

Cotton balls. Alcohol. Each streak, each line. Anointing. Burning. Til the tears stops and she feels...almost normal.
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You can call me Pocahontas...*nods*
Love is never having to say I can't poop.


Last edited by Luna_Wolf72 : 11-07-2011 at 12:59 AM.
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Old 11-07-2011, 02:04 AM   #33
Luna_Wolf72
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Crazy

It is that thing.

That sound.

That loud screaming that no one hears. Unless they are.

Crazed.

I mean that. Seriously.

Let me explain. Most people have the words or an idea or something. They can give you step by step. Might not totally make sense but they can do it. Explain it. Point out just what has happened and how it happened and when.

But this is that thing.

Screaming. Echoes.

The kind that shatter eardrums.

Craziness by the bag full. By the hand full. Because sometimes that is all that is left. When the words stop making sense and your heart feels as if it wants to explode from your chest and shatter in a trillion pieces. Sometimes. And you say...I am fine and I am fine and I am fine...UNTIL you just can't, any more. When you are sick to death of fucking pretending so that the others don't know.

Then that thing happens.

Silence like knives.

Soundless screams.

Soulless and empty.

Crazy.

Because you aren't fine. You won't BE fine. And telling lies to make others happy...is killing you. Breaking you down. Eating you up. Ripping you apart. So you smile and smile and fucking smile. And you face feels like it will die. And your heart is cold. And your mind won't shut up. EVER.

And the screams. The fucking screams.

They are you.

And you are.

Crazy.
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You can call me Pocahontas...*nods*
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Old 11-07-2011, 07:11 PM   #34
Luna_Wolf72
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Fairy Tale lessons on Trust.

Trust.

The most important thing in the world. Once gone? It can never be repaired. Never be given back. Never be re-earned. You may fix it. Eventually. You may solder it together in stops and starts, leaving a mass of fixes and contusions behind. But it will never, ever be the whole of the thing. The whole of the thing will no longer be there. It will be...

Missing.

Take, for example, the story of Red Riding Hood. She trusted FAR too easily. She listened when she shouldn't have. She shared bits of her life, her past, her present, that she should have kept clutched to her belly like a surprise birthday gift, like her basket of goodies. Instead she gave it away. easily. No thoughts. A happy little girl child who never thought a thing when it came to talking, stalking wolves in the deep dark forest. Silly girl child.

She ends up dead. In the real story. The one they didn't pretty up.

The Little Mermaid? Same thing. She trusted a witch. Now WE know you don't trust those sorts. Wanting her voice? Wanting the very thing that that male would have LOVED had he but known? Why would she have given it up? Because the witch and herself were women all together. And as women we are taught that you can trust each other (unless it's a step mother or an ugly old witch...*gasp, sigh*)...even the fairy tales say so. So the mermaid should have known not to go to the Sea Witch. It was as obvious as the nose on her face! That mean old Sea Witch? She took the mermaid's voice, gave her legs and then took the man she loved...and in the end...took the mermaid's life.

Because, honestly, what else is death but turning into foam and being washed away with the tide?

The tales tell you. Trust is earned, never given. you have to figure out who is worth trusting. The problem is...if you go by the tales? NO one is actually really worth it. They all break faith. Some in big irrevocable ways. Others in small ways that add up to an avalanche that will eventually crush the poor little girl child beneath it's weight.

And once the faith, the trust, is gone? No Fairy tale EVER tells you how to get it back. Here is why. You can not get it back. You can only solder it, baby it, work at it and hope...that the next time the person breaks your faith in them? You have enough soldering material to keep the original shape of your fix. Otherwise, it's gone. Never to return.

Why don't they ever talk about THAT? It would be much more useful than the morality plays.
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You can call me Pocahontas...*nods*
Love is never having to say I can't poop.


Last edited by Luna_Wolf72 : 06-23-2012 at 12:21 AM.
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Old 11-07-2011, 07:27 PM   #35
Fish_Tales
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I'm not staying - I'm just looking.

And that was awesome.

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Old 11-07-2011, 08:31 PM   #36
Luna_Wolf72
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Fish_Tales View Post
I'm not staying - I'm just looking.

And that was awesome.

cuddles a squishy lil Fishy

Thanks.
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Old 11-08-2011, 11:45 PM   #37
Luna_Wolf72
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Snippets.

Blood is nature's way
of warning you
when you have reached
the clearing
at the end of your path.

I see none yet.


If
you
stop
breathing?

The
pain
will
cease.

I
promise
you
this.


I am very tired.
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You can call me Pocahontas...*nods*
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Old 11-14-2011, 10:28 AM   #38
Nina327
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Sun is up and so am I. I'm not, NOT, a morning person. I am a 'feet to floor, why is the day bothering me' person.

The wood is wet with dew, creatures scamper and scurry. Little morning creatures.

My cofffee... Drank it as I walked.

She will be here soon. She's not a morning breed either but shes trained her self to be a 'I'm awake, let's do this' person.

Door opens. Closes. Fire lit. Her toys, her pretties found. Mine found. All laid on a low table methodically.

Calm creeps in. Not an ordinary calm. That calm. One thats necessary to breath fire. One that.. simply.... is..... She will be here soon.
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pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.


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Old 11-14-2011, 10:53 AM   #39
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Wolfling comes. Not fast, not slow. Simply...comes. Her feet stride, steadily. Through woods, over rocks and small branches. Through dust and cold. Clothing?

She keeps it on.

Part of this...for her... is the stripping away, under someone ELSE's direction. Under Her...direction. So fitted jeans, blinding white tee. Comfy thong sandals. Why? Because what Kitty knows is that the Wolf...needs.

And the kitty will provide.

There is the cavern. There is the entrance. Wolfing becomes wolf. Not much of a change. But it is.

She steps through, eyes heavy lidded, hands held loosely at her sides. Her frame is held straight. Shoulders back. Feet slightly wider than hip distance apart.


"Good morning, Kitty."
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Old 11-14-2011, 11:04 AM   #40
Nina327
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Her hands rested within eachother behind her back. Head watched, tilted as the contrasting vision steped within this place. Still dressed, expression of veiled control, and determination. Not that she doesnt want control. heh. She does.

"Morning"

Eyes roamed from curls to toes

"Unless you wish your pretty razor to become dull from denim. Remove them. I wont sharpen the blade."
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pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.


"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but Im just not close enough to get the job done. ~Carlin


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Old 11-14-2011, 11:24 AM   #41
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Soft in drawn breath. Just like that. Control shatters...she knows a ruse when she sees one. So do I.

Fingers go to waist and unbutton, unzip. Little leather sandals kicked off, jeans removed. Beneath them? A tiny white satin thong. White does NOT give me any innocence. But it does look damned good on my skin. That is why I wore it. For her.

My voice is soft. Eyes still watching her. I don't have very many words left. Left hand points towards the tee, the bra...the panties.


"Shall I keep them?"

It is hard to look at her, very hard. And my body is doing that low grade trembling thing. Fight or flight. Does she know? can she tell?
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Old 11-14-2011, 12:01 PM   #42
Nina327
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A long wait, a smile.

I like that. efficiency. It works for me. As does the contrasting colors she loves to wear. gives a deeper tone to her skin, makes her glow.

And satin tends to shimmer as the body moves in those little movements we cant simply think about. She shiver that breath has, that stepping from one foot to the other has, that shifting thoughts have on the body.

Watching her point to herself, soft smile grew, laced with plans and wishes and thoughts. She was pushing for time. She wanted more and less time. Wanted to be here and didn't. Trying for a stance which she does not like. Submissive doesn't suit her long, her brain shuts it off.

Fingers lifted her chin, thumb brushed over the very edge of her lip.

"Eyes on me or the wall."

A choice. My smile grew, morphed. Choices always started wars.

My hand held her pretty pet pearl shiny, thumb caressed its side, lifting...

Blunt back traced her jaw. Fingers plucked 'T' and bra strap off her shoulder.

Blade whispered through them. Fingers tips played over shoulders... watching her whole frame...

Blade plucked at the "t", touching skin and pulling to nip at fabric till it fell away...

Lips touched each collarbone, a kiss and more... feeling her tremble within her frame, checking her temperature, breathing... all...

Back of the blade caress the under line of bra cups.... returning to center.. lips bitten, blade turned... Satin shutters and gives way... holding pretty breasts until that little tremble flutters it to the floor.
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"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but Im just not close enough to get the job done. ~Carlin


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Old 11-14-2011, 12:21 PM   #43
Luna_Wolf72
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She is smiling. I KNOW that smile. I feel that smile, all the time. Like some inner fucking glow. I am so fucked up here. And does she know it?

Yes.

Will she help me?

Yes.

Do I trust her?

Yes.

Nothing else for it. I have to.

Body tries to flinch. But I am trapped here, with the kitty. And slowly, ever so slowly, I force the muscles into some semblance of relaxation.

Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. A cycle.

Her voice then. Light. A giggle just beneath the surface.


"Eyes on me or the wall."

Her. I choose to look at her. My eyes are open now and I see. I watch as she uses my own straight razor to rid me of blinding white cotton and satin. Her fingers, lithe, quick. Holding, plucking, cutting. Until the whole mess of white and white, flutters down and away. My body is covered in goose bumps. Nipples draw up into hard little points. Fight? Flight?

I won't fight her for this. Can not fight her for this. But I wish she'd hurry. I wish she'd stop. I am on edge. I can feel the edge. I know the edge. The edge is....right here. I feel an inner shiver. One that tells me more than I want to know. She is driving right now, I am simply a passenger. I am scared.

Breathe. In. Out. My eyes never ever leave hers. I can feel my heart pounding. So very hard. But the trembling has stopped. And the silence that means I am slowly releasing the control to her, has taken over. I am falling deeper into myself and it feels good.

Breathe. In. Out.
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You can call me Pocahontas...*nods*
Love is never having to say I can't poop.

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Old 11-14-2011, 12:39 PM   #44
Nina327
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Stalking around her, eyes flit from plane to swell to plane, nails graze around belly, side, back, side.

Eyes catch hers, knowing.

a nod. I am here. I wont leave.

We could fight, i'd lose. I know this, Wolf knows this. This is the why. The how. The fear. Of me, of not me. I'm not like others. I'll gladly let you walk away. Not a word said. She needs.

I can smell it. Like smelling lamb when you are hungry, alone, tired... Makes my mouth water.

Stepping close, so close, touching close. I like close. I can feel her chest rise agianst mine. Her breath baths my face. Eyes watching glittering eyes.

Hand lifts, taking one of hers, out, up higher, bends. Other hand laces in the curl upon her neck. I place her hand over mine and pull her gently, solidly, connected, more into the room. Steps in line with steps.

my hand leaves curls, slips from under hers, slips down over curves, grabs the other, lifts, bends, places it with her other hand. Feeling her lace her fingers together. Two fingers, one from each hand toch the outside of her elbows, drawing them forward. Blocking her view of everything but straight forward. Blocking everything but me and her and we.
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pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.


"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but Im just not close enough to get the job done. ~Carlin


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Old 11-14-2011, 01:10 PM   #45
Luna_Wolf72
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Tummy drops, as she moves me, like I am her own personal doll.

Good. So very, very, very. Good.

Hands move my hands. Raising them, lacing them. Using them to block everything that is not me, not her, not us. All I can see is HER. All I can sense is her. The smell of musk and sweetly fresh flesh. That is her and at odds with the lower notes of ambergris, fig, sandalwood my own body produces.

I capture the first of many whimpers. It's low, rolling, soft. I know she hears it. But it isn't fear. I don't fear her. I need her. And she is making me wait, dragging me in, slow step by slow step.

It's a dance.

And she is leading.
__________________
I like your seals of approval....I approve
It's Fetofficial~I am Twin's brat boi.





You can call me Pocahontas...*nods*
Love is never having to say I can't poop.

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Old 11-14-2011, 01:30 PM   #46
Nina327
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Lips touch elbow, trail... back of arm, front of armpit, collarbone, collarbone, front of armpit... sweet, soft, touches... bite to back of arm. still sweet. Smelling. sniffing, drawing in a memory. Eyes close... breath falls, catches.... tugs my lips.

A foot presses the inside of a foot, pushing. Sliding. Then the other. Hands slide over warm, dig into lower back. Press front to front and drag high, back, ribs, breast.

Lips touch, whisper. "you will scream for me?" Nose touches nose.

Feet step back, distance, still connected...

Fingers snap, flogger is there, in hand. Its not normal. It is longer much longer. Nessessary... It will reach, it does reach. Where I want it. So I can stand here before and reach behind. So I can step back and reach in front.

"Squat 4 inches."

Fingers run through strands.

"I want something different from you. I want sound. At minimum every third strike."

Head cants, watching, knowing.

"I know they are not real, not at first. I want them anyway, I want your throat raw from them by the time I'm done."

With that, she was done with words. for now they are not needed. Watching her settle, get angry, breath, settle, focus. So much is done with out a single word.

Strands fly, wrapping around left hip, gripping, pulling forward.

Feet step back, tips cross right breast, rib flesh. Step forward, strands connect with left ribs, tips lash tween shoulder blades and pull.
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pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.


"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but Im just not close enough to get the job done. ~Carlin


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Old 11-14-2011, 01:51 PM   #47
Luna_Wolf72
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I need to focus.

But she takes that away. I need to focus.

But she will not allow it. She is taking me at my word. Pulling me into the darkness where pain equals pleasure and pleasure becomes the divine. Until i can not think, can not breathe. Can not even fucking think. Good. I don't want to think.


"you will scream for me?"

A quick nod. That is all I can give. Because she knows that words will pull me from this silent little blissful place. Because IF I say yes, it will turn into more.

"Squat 4 inches."

And so that is what I do. Thighs flexing. Toes planted on rock. Pressing. Holding me steady. Back still straight. Hands still laced. Thighs aren't burning, not yet. But they will. Not soon. Takes more than a squat for it to burn. But they will.

"I want something different from you. I want sound. At minimum every third strike."

She found that secret little place and switched it on with that sentence. I prefer silence, especially when I am suffering. Have been a silent sufferer for YEARS. It is only when I yell, whimper, scream...that pain becomes REAL. She is going to make it real. For me.

"I know they are not real, not at first. I want them anyway, I want your throat raw from them by the time I'm done."

Another nod. It hurts to even give that much. I will yell. For her. I will shriek and cry and scream for her....and eventually, I will be hers....

A flogger appears. Heavy thuddy pain that spreads and spreads and causes an intake of air that I have to hold...Hold...hold...Breathe out.

Other side. Hold...hold...The moan that slips out is not planned for. FOCUS YOU STUPID BITCH! And she is building me up...and the pain is starting to be real...even if the cries are not.
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You can call me Pocahontas...*nods*
Love is never having to say I can't poop.

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Old 11-14-2011, 02:13 PM   #48
Nina327
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Eyes glitter... that moan, was not on third strike... It pleases me almost as much as the ones she will make herself give me. The ones she forces out... those little treasured gifts. When all she wants to do is retreat inside.... those.... those are all mine...

A ripple down my spine, teeth licked... strands fly, not stopping, inner thigh, inner thigh... steps closer.. wrist flicks... strands connect with cunt.. tips grip lower back... pull............ smile....

Flogger hung round my neck... feet carry closer... so so close.. fingers pluck little blade from its thong at my neck.... Tongue licks her chin... blade tip, pointy.... dots.... i want them. One collar bone, three dots, pokes... solid little pokes... Other collar bone. same... Three, an inch apart. Tip dragged down sternum to its tippy tip... Presses.... eyes lock.... tip so close to breaking skin... she will have to breath into it. Chin tilts up.... lips smile...... that Little little feel skin parting, giving just so much... Mouth opens to breath in her quiver, her sound...

Blade replaced... Lips dip to kiss, lick.......

and I retreat..... to dance again, with her skin at the end of the flogger, light and hard... 33 strikes covering what i can reach from this angle.... happy.... lash after lash.... listening to her sing.... 33 strikes..... every one felt, savored.... I watch her. eyes wide.. close, open... i watch her war with her... till i pause and watch glistening shaking whimpering song tremble out.....

Closing distance.... fingers grip chin.... lips kiss... lick up a tear.... I know its not pain...

"thank you for that... i want more."
__________________
pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.


"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but Im just not close enough to get the job done. ~Carlin


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Old 11-14-2011, 02:32 PM   #49
Luna_Wolf72
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Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She doesn't give me time to breathe. She just lets fly with thuddy, stingy, heavy and I can't breathe. The whimpers when they slip out are the real gifts. And she knows it. She takes them as the gifts they are. The screams? At first, they are false, so very false.

But I get into a rhythm, for her. Breathing and whimpering. Breathing and silence. Breathing and screaming. Until it is a cycle of pain that drives me deeper and deeper into that space that is all maso black.

And the flogger tips kiss wet cunt and I cry out. Bliss not pain. Sheer fucking bliss.

Then she comes closer, invades my space. takes my breath with flashing silver dotting panic. The kind that leaves body thrumming and humming and screaming and so very wet..because it does.

Her mouth is my anchor. I taste her, feel her taking me...and I so want to touch, to ravage and taste and...but I can not will not, must not. And my legs are burning now. Burning now...so badly. I forget while her mouth holds mine...but the memory returns when she retreats and lets fly.

Body burns...and the screams are more real. The whimpers are louder and I am falling into that place that means I do not ever have to fucking think. And I am so fucking tired of carrying this weight that I just want to let it go...and I do...and she takes it...away. And that brings tears in a way that sheer pain will NEVER do...


"thank you for that... i want more."

Mouth opens, and the voice that leaves it is so soft, so very fucking girly, so rough.

OK...what ever you want, kitty.

And my thighs are burning. And my heart is racing...but...the thoughts are stopping...and i can finally breathe. She can have anything I have...just for that alone.
__________________
I like your seals of approval....I approve
It's Fetofficial~I am Twin's brat boi.





You can call me Pocahontas...*nods*
Love is never having to say I can't poop.

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Old 11-14-2011, 03:01 PM   #50
Nina327
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Her voice... I cant respond, I cant giggle now... even though that giggle has no mirth to it. odd things make me giggle, odd things make me happy. and that voice..... makes me very .. very happy... very.... happy...

Hands grip her hips, nails dig, gripping, grabbing that tiny bit of attention needed. lips find lips... drawing in breath, bite... pull... claim... stay... Thigh settles tween hers, Heel hooks her knee, pulls, Sliding blistering heat down my thigh.... nails drag up her sides as flesh slips to stone floor.... lips nibble

Stepping back, tools change... right hand a crop, left a much shorter flogger.... Strands to ribs.... walking.... crop tip finds the soles of feet, toes, ankles... works up legs.... along outer hips, sides ribs, armpits...... flogger works its way back down.... covering every welted line, scant inch of flesh untouched... Wolf starts to look like a dalmatian and a zebra... my breath shakes hearing that tone.... a long deep breath.... settling..... not done...

Stepping back around.... rain starts, crop tip, strands tips.... coating her front, every inch of it. ... dragging those screams she keeps under her belly... out... mine... i want them... all of them... mine... now
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pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.


"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but Im just not close enough to get the job done. ~Carlin


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