Friday, July 31, 2009

FFF #14

The Jedi's Slave - Relief

Lunch was outside – the delightful temperature and cloudless sky provided the perfect backdrop for a diplomatic event. They were unused to the intensity of the sunlight so both the Ordelian ambassador and his wife wore oversized straw hats. Lara thought that Jar Gon was right – they were orange, ugly, and had big heads.

“Please – honor us by sitting at our table”

The ambassador spoke formally, with what once might have been called German precision.

“I... uh... would rather stand”

Lara unconsciously rubbed her bottom. The wife smiled, but the ambassador broke out in laughter.

“So, Jar Gon – you have been trying out the culture of our small planet. And did you find it satisfactory?”

“Yes, ambassador – the constant challenge is gone”

Lara felt her face redden.

“Come, dear – let us leave the men to their politics”

Lara followed her inside to a very feminine room. Angaa sat, reached into a small chest and extracted a crystal bottle.

“Come here. Let us see what he's done to you”

Lara lay across her lap, felt herself bared.

“Oh my – those are nasty welts. Let's see if this helps”

Lara looked back as she poured a liquid in her palm, and began rubbing it in. The pain evaporated instantly – accompanied by feelings of arousal. She never had feelings like that around women.

“By the way, dear. There is one side effect”

The hands continued massaging her bottom.

“It produces the strongest orgasms”

Lara took a deep breath, the cries beginning in her throat

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

MMC #4

Coral Cafe, I wasn't your waitress, but... - w4m - 21 (Burbank)

I wish I had been. You came in with a guy with white hair and thick square glasses, and a guy closer to your age wearing a Fedora. But you, oh you! You were tall, thin, deliciously lanky, with well kept shoulderish length straight brown hair and glasses, and a nice leather jacket on. I was the brunette waitress with long earrings who kept smiling at you, brought you coffee and cream, and who's now kicking herself for not just walking up to you and saying Hello. I just let you walk out like a shy fool. But if by some miracle you read this, every time I looked at you my heart jumped into my throat and I no doubt blushed 100 shades of red. I'm using all my powers of positive thought to hope you'll come in again, and this time sit in my section.

I remember her. She DID blush. Hmmmm Well, a couple of cups of coffee wouldn't hurt.


I saw her and waved to her across the restaurant. She smiled and jumped and waved to me.

"That was quite a Craigslist ad"

She blushed.

“When are you off”

“Forty five minutes. Why”

“I'll wait”

She blushed again. For forty-five minutes she kept me in coffee.


We got in my car.

“ You know, I'm a real sucker for a girl in a dress. I hate jeans on girls”

“Well, I have to wear it every day”

“Guess you'll see me every day then”

She has...

Monday, July 27, 2009

MfM #38


They were professors, my parents.
Both of them.
Oh, they'd sowed their oats,
He in New York,
She - well, we're not sure
We think South America
Because of all her carvings
And because she'd never speak of it.

So they settled in a small college town
And brought me home to it
The baby who made every faculty party
And was oohed, ahhed, held, and bounced
To everyones satisfaction

But I was born six weeks after our yellow bretheren
Decided, in the words of their commander,
To waken a sleeping giant
Every man Jack was needed
Give up what you had
And come hold whats ours
Ans so they made a warrior of a musician
And a Navy Wife of a Chaucer expert.
I was just along for the ride.

They used him first
Then trained him again
And sent him out over the vast Pacific
I remember when he left
I remember better when he came back
He wasnt the same person

They tried to be teachers again
They truly tried
But after you've rained hell on our enemies
And sent men out to die
Vaporous coeds and hung over frat boys
No longer mattered
Years of not knowing whether he was alive
Left her uncaring of words dead five hundred years

And so he took a different path
And she went with him, arm in arm,
And I - I toddled after them
The other path
Made all the difference

Saturday, July 25, 2009

FFF #13

The Jedi's Slave: Afterward

Lara lay on her tummy, listening to him snore. She wore only her top since her bottom was burning – she couldn’t stand any covers either. Her eyes were still red as she watched him sleep. She looked over at the time – the light glinted off the turquoise swan he had brought back to her. She could not believe that it had been five hours since she had looked back at his face, set and harsh, as he said

“You are but a slave girl. You will be punished if you don’t obey”

The Ordelian cane he used had been awful – he had only struck her twelve times – strokes, she recalled they were called in the olden days. The pain was beyond her dreams. He had held her afterwards through her tears.

“You are a slave girl and your master has whipped you”

She replayed it. At the thought of the word “whipped” her passion jumped. She repeated it to herself

“… your master has whipped you…”

It was what she had dreamed of often, and she could not help herself – she reached over and touched him. She felt him stiffen in her small hands. She pushed back the coverlet and straddled him – she was ready for him immediately. The slave briefly became the master as she settled herself on him, took his hardness deep inside her. She felt his body jump as he came awake, then the slow thrusting inside her.

“Perhaps you need the cane more often, little one”

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

MMC #3

Where is Michael (grew up in Malibu) lives in Brentwood? - w4m (Brentwood)

Your name is Michael
You grew up in Malibu
You live in Brentwood
You are a member at Bel Air CC
You like the spazmatics
You own a restaurant franchise
You like to play the guitar and are quite impressive at it
We went on several great dates...
You invited me to the spazmatics...
and then I never returned your call...
I lost my phone and you were lost.
Can you be found? Is it possible?
If anyone knows who this Michael I speak of is... please email me.
Hey I know it is weird to turn to CL..
but hey you never know. It is a small world.
Call me at 310-XXX-XXXX Michael
"Hi this is Michael"
"Hi Michael, This is Valerie. I finally found you"
"I had such a hard time finding you. I lost my phone, like I said on Craigslist..."
"Well, look. The concert was 3 weeks ago. I haven't heard from you for almost a month"
"I know. Well it took me a while..."
"Did it? You knew where the restaurant was. And I gave you a business card"
"I know. After I lost the phone and couldn't find you I was afraid you'd be mad at me..."
"Perceptive of you"
"Ummm Michael ARE you mad at me?"
"Well look at it this way - there was $160 for the front row tickets and $100 for the backstage pass"
"Oh God, I had no idea..."
"The $300 deposit for the limo I couldn''t get back, not to mention the $450 for the hotel suite"
"And all for someone who was so thoughtless and self-centered she couldn't find me"
"I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you..."
"No - no you wont. If you want to pick up where we left off, as far as I'm concerned you deserve a good old fashioned spanking"
"What? How could you..."
"Sorry Valerie - that's how I feel"
"OK, goodbye then"
"Michael. Ohhh goodbye"
"Hi this is Michael's phone. He's not with me right now so leave a message"
"Michael, this is Valerie. I've been thinking it over and maybe you're right. My mom used to spank me and its not like I've never had one and God I cant believe I'm doing this Oh I miss you and if you really think that's what you want then go ahead and spank me. Call me.
"Hi Valerie, this is Michael. I got your message"
"Uh huh..."
"Why dont you come over tonight and we'll get this over with. Be here at eight"
"Ummm Ok I guess. I mean, how are you... What are you going to do to me?"
"I'm going to put you across my knee Valerie, just like you were a little girl. Then I'm going to pull your pants down. And then I'm going to spank you with a hairbrush. I borrowed one from my mom."
"Oh god. I'm kinda... afraid"
"Well just be here at eight."
"OK - eight o'clock"
At eight o'clock she stood outside his door, timidly knocking. The huge carved door opened and she looked up into his intense blue eyes. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed back.

"This way"

He closed the door behind her.


That, BTW, is a real CL ad - I couldn't make this stuff up...

Sensual Stories - July 21 version


Sleep came hard.
I turned and twisted
all night
until I found my favorite memory
dreaming of silky things,
crossing hot thighs
your scent
your skin
your hair
your cries as I touched you

We played for hours
with no care but ourselves
Passion - God yes, passion beyond my dreams
and yours as well
till we lay together
exhausted in the wetness of love

Your face - your face, eyes closed
So real but

I shook
Came awake with a start
Oh God, not again
I have to wake up
And you will be gone



Submitted to the #journalling game - first crack at this

Monday, July 20, 2009

MFM 37

Girls Moving Day

My roommate Angela is so damn feminist - she insisted that we move all our stuff to the new apartment ourselves instead of having the guys do all the work. I mean, if God wanted us to move stuff would he have given us long fingernails? Not to mention long hair? Anyway, her boyfriend Gary and his buddy Tony decided to come along just to watch. Damn, talk about a couple of hunks who could easily carry our stuff under one arm. But no, Angela insisted we do everything. So while they sat there laughing at us and working their way through a twelve-pak we were all hot and sweaty (Ewwww) carrying stuff up and down stairs. I think the last straw was when we were trying to get a heavy chair around the corner - both of them just stood up and took it away from us, then effortlessly lifted it over our heads and down to the truck. Angela started to mutter.

"Shut up, Angela" I said

When the guys came back up the stairs for the next piece of furniture she started in giving them both a piece of her mind. We were independent women, we could do this ourselves, we didn't need...

"Shut UP Angela" - she wasn't listening to me. The guys just ignored us both and moved the last few pieces to the truck and shut the tailgate.

"OK - are you going to drive this?" Gary was getting a little irritable, and Tony didn't seem far behind.

"Umm - I guess so - the rental place just left it here for us..." Angela drifted off.

"Ever drive a truck"

"Ummm - no, it cant be that hard.."

Gary grabbed the keys and climbed up into the cab.

"Take them in the pickup"

Tony nodded and pushed the two of us along and into the back seat of his crew cab - the front seat being full of whatever it is guys always have in the front seat of their pickups.. I sensed even more irritation during the quiet (except for Angela's prattling) ride to the new apartment.
When we got there both of us were unceremoniously pushed out of the way, and the contents quickly unloaded. Without our help. Or directions. Or whatever.

"There is gonna be a charge for this" Gary smiled, sitting on the chair looking pointedly at Angela.

"From both of you" Tony added, looking at me.

Gary stood up and picked up Angela, heading for the bedroom. I heard the sound of a swat, then Angela's squeaky "Ow!"

I was turned around looking into intense brown eyes - then felt a swat on my behind

"Ow - I didn't do that - it was her"


He pulled me down into his lap.Mmmm - he felt good. We ignored the two of them in the other room for the rest of the afternoon. I let him do all the heavy lifting.


Dont usually write from this point of view - thought I'd experiment with something different...

Saturday, July 18, 2009

FFF #12

The Jedi's Slave: Consequences

Lara danced through the house all day. He had been off-planet for four days

“He’s coming home today”.

Anticipation led her to devil the servants – finally the cook threatened her with bodily harm if she went over the menu one more time. Midday she heard the tone that announced someone at the portal. Outside among the aspens she found three troopers. The oldest one announced himself as Sergeant vanDownes

“Your … husband ordered us to deliver these to your sleeping quarters ma’am”

She led them to their bedroom, and watched as they set down the packages, covered with unfamiliar script. They left, and she had only a few minutes to examine the itemized bill before she sensed his presence.

Over dinner he told her of his trip.

“The most amazing thing about Ordile-II is that they still beat their women.”

“They’re orange, ugly, and they have very big heads, but they’re very well behaved. They don’t do things they’re told not to do…Even if their masters aren’t there”

A dark feeling came over her.

“They’ve been developing this plant for generations – it is like the rattan you dreamed of, but much, much more effective” In the bedroom he opened the larger of the packages – he extracted a stool with extended arms and a footrest. Gently he pushed her over it – as her hands approached the arms she felt herself pulled over and held in position. He unscrewed the end of the other package and pulled out a cane.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Missed Connections #2

Marina Water Taxi Saturday morning, pretty red dress with your girlfriends M4W (LA)

You sat across from me and flirted whenever your gf's were turned around looking out the windows. Thanks, you made my morning. Love to meet you again. Ice Cream? Coffee?



R U the guy with the black slacks and dress shirt?


That would be me - I just wanted to say hi. Tell you the truth a lot of these ads creep me out.



Me 2 - so what, do you live down here? my gf's and I came down from the valley


Little place right off the beach. Just a studio, for working


O - what do you do ?


computer stuff mostly. how about you?


work in a dress shop - it's awful (giggles) my name is tara, BTW


well, tara, if you're coming down again let me know - I'll take you out for ice cream




right on the beach there's a little place called Dana's - friend of mine owns it, and they have good ice cream


K I love ice cream - ill remember



hey are you still there?


sure, why


i was thinking about coming down this weekend


OK - still feel like ice cream?




meet me at Dana's


So I sat across the table from her and we talked for hours. She told me how bad it was to work in a dress shop and I smiled and told her she didn't know what awful was yet. She said she was 22 and she had a good idea. When I asked her where she got her ideas she just got a sad look in her eyes, so maybe (I thought to myself) she'd really had a tough life despite her youth. In the end she came home with me and we spent more time talking; after a while she slipped out of her cute little dress and we made quiet love, the slider open and the sound of the ocean barely audible. She cried a little, then stretched herself along my body and molded herselt against me.

Later she whispered that she had to go to the bathroom and I watched her against the glow from the nitelights I'd left on for her. My eyes closed and I heard her padding back towards the bed. I'll never know why I opened my eyes and looked up at her - I could just barely see the sad look in her eyes and I wondered what I could do. I caught the flash of the knife out of my peripheral vision and rolled sideways against her as she stabbed down, burying the tip of the blade in the headboard, far enough that she couldn't pull it out and strike again. Thank god she was neither large nor strong, for I was easily able to subdue her. I reached to the phone and hit the 911 autodial while she began to keen and wail like a wounded animal struggling to get free.

She left in the back seat of the sheriff's cruiser - apparently she had escaped from a mental hospital. They told me how lucky I was.

I never saw her again after that. You know those creepy feelings still come up whenever I turn to the personals.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

OK - MfM 36.5

Espionage for real

You hid it well, I’ll give you that. You suckered me in. No fool like an old fool, Nana used to say on the very few occasions that I disappointed my grandmother. You were so young and so pretty I’m amazed I didn’t do something really stupid. Flirting with me online – then later when we met in the coffee shop. You gave in so easily, so… happily. I thought.

Your lips were so soft, your body so beautiful, your scent so moving it drove me – left me distracted. I am so lucky that my protocols kept everything safe.

In my business I keep the secrets of a dozen client companies at any given time. Secrets that allow them to compete, to overcome, to live the capitalist dream. There aren’t many guys who do what I do, and I know most of them. We are well-paid, well taken care of – my soul mate used to say I was the most spoiled adult she ever met. And we are required to take care of the information we are trusted with, for knowing what a company was designing was the same as knowing where they were about to go.

The next morning I awoke to find you checking your e-mail on one of my machines. You turned to look at me.

“Do you mind? I told a girlfriend I’d touch base with her.”

“Not at all”

I busied myself making coffee, then amused myself watching your supple fingers race over the keyboard. I smiled – I’m a faster typist than you are, but only because I’ve been doing it longer than you’ve been alive. Not to mention my training. You finished, turned, rose, and moved to me with the sexy grace of a jungle cat. You took my cup, set it down, and pushed me to the bed. Again. Can’t say I complained.

The next morning I awoke alone – to the sound of a warning whoop from the computers. The scanner I ran every morning at 8:30, an hour I’d never be on a machine, was protesting. Something had attached itself, something ugly. After a few minutes it was clear that whatever it was, it wasn’t anything I’d ever seen before. Luckily, it was the DMZ computer that I allow net access with. Nothing else was connected to it, and nothing major was on it either – simple standard app’s for browsing, email and a few other things. I pulled the hard drive, figuring that I’d look at it later. If I couldn’t find anything, I knew a few guys who’d be interested. They spent their lives looking for stuff like that.

I grabbed a spare drive and the install DVD and started the process. I didn’t think much about it – even now there are kids who think they’re hackers. Haven’t figured out that jail isn’t a fun place.

I should have realized that your presence the next night wasn’t an accident. I should have, but how could I – I wasn’t expecting to see you for a few weeks, if then. You’d been pretty vague. Another night in paradise – waking to see you again in the morning sitting at the desk. It was almost a replay.

Including the whoop the next morning. I was puzzled – you’d said that you couldn’t get access to the net – I hadn’t hooked the machine back up to the router, nor to anything else. I was going to up the level of protection, and turn on some low lever driver stuff, but I hadn’t gotten around to it. How had a virus gotten back on the machine? I started looking and whatever it was, it was back.

When you do this kind of stuff for a living, you worry that you got careless or stupid or lost track of what you were doing. I thought through everything I did yesterday to recover. The infected hard drive (the FIRST infected hard drive, I reminded myself) was sitting on the desk, cold. Unless you believed in magic it couldn’t have had any effect. There are ways to leave nasty code on some flash devices, if you’re very, very clever, but my custom install program had checked for exactly that (trust no one…). The machine had been the same as it had come from the factory. That didn’t leave much. It had to be you. But how. And why?

I looked back through your emails – they all came from the same place. I looked up your posts on the forums where we met. Same answer, same IP address. For those of us who’ve spent our lives building the net you take for granted it wasn’t very hard. I have a collection of hacker tools, nasty viruses and root kits that are probably illegal by now – but they’re very effective. I noticed that your favorite time to email me was a little after noon – lunch time at work maybe? I put all the toys together in a bulletproof machine, one using an obscure operating system that no one wrote hacker tools to attack. It had the advantage of being largely invisible to the rest of the world since only a few things were active. It was the ideal attack platform. I knew. I’d built it for a client.

It took a few minutes to find you. I wondered if you were out lining up another patsy. It was clear that your machine was in very bad company. The other folks on your subnet were all members of a company that had a bad reputation among techies – I recognized the net name immediately. I was surprised that they allowed you direct access to the outside world, then realized that you had to have it if you were doing bad stuff. I chuckled – sometimes bright crooks aren’t very smart.

So now I was faced with a dilemma. Did I attack you? Did I search through your laptop looking for evidence? Did I destroy your computer and not take your calls? Of course I could keep right on fucking you – you’d have to be here tomorrow if I was right. That was a thought to smile about. I had one (and only one) contact at the FBI – did I call him and let him work his way through the federal hierarchy ?

In the end, the urge to get even triumphed. Besides, I figured, you’d started the fight. I set a trap on your IP address – you had said that you often took your laptop home and I wanted to catch you there – where there wasn’t any IT department to help you out, no bright young boys or girls who would realize what was happening looking at their network monitors. I hoped I’d been stealthy enough. I slipped away, hoping to be confused with some script kiddy who was pinging addresses looking for a fool.

The whoop woke me up at 9 pm. You were on the prowl. I came up , found you at once, and began to slip into your laptop. Just fucking you another way, I thought to myself. I was surprised at the lack of protection – someone at your shop must have turned a lot of stuff off for some reason. Or maybe you had, just to make your life easier. I planted a few exploits – toys that gave me a view into what you were doing. Keystrokes were the first level.

I watched you log into an email account, writing down the password – the one you sent emails to me out of. I watched you send several to other guys (I assumed – for all I knew maybe you were AC/DC). The same flirty stuff you wrote me, in fact some of it using the same words. I kind of wanted to puke. Then a few to girlfriends – down and dirty stuff. You even praised my lovemaking to one – that was a surprise I wasn’t expecting. Well, hell. Too bad. You logged off.

Next you logged onto what was obviously a work account – vanilla account name, password strong enough to get by corporate standards - and started typing a report. It was eerie to watch our relationship appear in the terms of corporate espionage.

From: YYY ( That was the name she used)
Re; ZZZ (Hey – that was ME)
Subject has been co-opted through methods specified in the original assignment. Subject’s desktop has been compromised once, then recovered by him. It was compromised a second time but do not expect this to be successful. Please recommend an alternative method to acquire the desired information.

Her signature – guess she used her real name. Why, I wondered – I wouldn’t. I didn’t, actually. My current identity would play out 15 years ago. Hopefully that was enough.

So I considered my choices. I could turn you into the feds. A delightful choice, but unfortunately it had some major drawbacks. Like testifying. And having my real identity come up as soon as they checked my fingerprints . Major league oops here.

I could destroy your employer. I mean like destroy the building and everything in it. Including you. I had enough C-4 to take out the building and several blocks around it. On the other hand, as an American Indian explosives specialist friend once said, “I can make the charge small enough to take out a tooth” – I never wanted to verify that, to tell the truth. I figured that he’d just accept the rest of the skull as collateral damage.

I could really, I mean really fuck you up. I knew how to rig your apartment so that it would look like a gas leak. They’d probably never find very much of you. Or your laptop.

Or – I started to get hard thinking about this – I could disappear you. You could spend the rest of your life – which would be very short, but pleasant to me – getting fucked however I felt like it that day. MMMMM – bet you’d never expect to be cuffed when you were sure that I’d fallen for you hook line and sinker.

These were tough choices. I’d probably have to go somewhere else and find another way to make a buck, no matter what I chose. Not a problem. I’d been trained well – oh trust me, very, very well – to deal with the unexpected. Adapt, Improvise, and Overcome. Oh yeah. Not to mention P to the fifth.

I drove east to the beach, then headed north. It had been a while since I’d worked on aircraft engines, but I knew how. A newly printed license in my wallet said I did. I’d have to reestablish contact with my employers – they’d probably be a little pissed that I had blown off the high tech connection, but hell, they knew it was only a matter of time. The all news all the time station on the radio began bleating about the huge loss of life in your building. There were, it seems, no survivors. Pity, that. Had I been a bit more of a sympathetic man I’d have cried. Honestly. I missed you. Some. Actually, not that much. But some. And by a wild coincidence there had been a fire in an apartment complex. Mine. Everything had been destroyed, including a large amount of computing equipment. Totally destroyed. As in no one could possibly find anything on it. Well arranged thermite took care of that. Even better than C4. Well, I hated to lose all that equipment, but then – it was only money. And I had a lot of that. My previous employers had seen to that.

Not to mention my present ones.

Looked like it was shaping up to be a pretty sunset. Have to set up a place to go to ground for the evening.


OK, after reading everyone else's posts I kind of felt like the girl who didn't get the memo that we're all wearing plum skirts tomorrow morning and shows up in shrink-wrapped white slacks. I thought Ang woudl be pissed if I wrote something long, so I did a short poetry thing, but.. hell, I felt kinda stupid. So here it is - I'd been struggling with this for a while, trying to hone it to something that was... OK, I guess. I'd be happy with OK.

So its too damn long - sue me

IRL - well I worked in Silicon Valley for along time, and I have two friends who got popped for industrial espinoage. It really happens - I consider it a major accomplishment of my career that I never got popped, and I never had to testify before a congressional inquiry (though the last was, as they say, a close thing).

So this is MfM 36.5 - kind of half way sort of thing. Hope you enjoy reading it...

MfM #36


You hid it well, you did
I'll give you that
You hid it deep within your heart
You would not tell me
Not for a heartbeat
That you cared
That you loved
That you wanted me to hold you
And caress you
And take you

Had I left you control
Had I left you your secrets
Had I not cared enough
You would not be mine
For I would never have looked
In your most secret place
Where you wrote the inner you
The you that was never shared
The you that said most simply
That I was your



Well, the original described real industrial espionage, as opposed to espionage of the heart, and was well on its way to 1500 or 2000 words - It would have fit in MacroFantasyMonday, but that wasn't the objective now, was it. Took a bit to fall back and regroup

My thanks to Ang - hope you get a big machine up - PDA's are great, but as a supplement. And my appreciation to all the other real writers who take this challenge. You guys are great!

Saturday, July 11, 2009

FFF #11

The Jedi's Slave: First Test

It had been quite a month – he'd allowed her to become part of his life, accepted her as his slave, and she was determined to please him in every way. In turn, she had been pleasured beyond the wildest imaginations of a young woman. Pleasured when he enterred her mind, pleasured when he enterred her body. She had become accustomed to the eerie sensation when he probed her mind, the feelings that resonated within her scull – it was after these he always found new ways to drive her into ectasy. She lay beside him evenings, running her fingers over the scars on his warrior's body while he slept.

He had been gone for several nights, and her body missed him. She tossed restlessly, thinking of the last night they had shared. Instant arousal made her wet, and it was only a moment before her hand reached down to satisfy. As she touched herself, she heard his voice

“You are not to do that young lady – if you do I will punish you”

She looked around – the sound was so real. He wasn't there, how could he... She tossed her head, well if he weren't here what could he do. It was only seconds before she enterred her private realm of pleasure.


Several worlds away, he shook his head, the image clear in his mind. Well, if punishment was what she wanted, punishment was what she would get.

“Pardon me counsellor – My mind was elsewhere for a second.”


Just could NOT get the safety pin in - I had several ideas, but none of them fit in 250 words.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Missed Connections

Thursday 5:15 405 Northbound near Santa Monica
You: Long blond hair, yellow Lamborghini (with the Smith and Wesson cuffs on the rear view)
Me: Short white hair, silver Vette, next to you
You waved, I waved. (Then I watched you grab the submissive girl in the passenger seat by the hair. I reached into my backpack and pulled out a spanking hairbrush and held it up for you You nodded and had your girl hold out her hand for it. I watched the expression on her face as you swatted her on the legs a few times)
Then traffic started up again and you were gone
(I just want my hairbrush back)
Dear Silver Vette,
Yes I have your hairbrush. I used it all evening? Want it back? Meet me at Starbucks on Sepulvada and Santa Monica Blvd?
Lambo Liz
Dear Liz,
Love to – tomorrow nite at 8:00?
As I pulled in the car was there with an empty space next to it. She was alone – that was unexpected.
I had anticipated her submissive.
Over Latte's together, after the hello, how are you, nice evening smalltalk...

“I've never done this with a guy before”
“What's that?
“You know – the hairbrush thing”
“You do understand I'm dominant”
She looked down at the table
“I... know. I guess..”

“You Ready”
“Ummm...yes, I guess so”

She followed me home. Followed me in. Fished the hairbrush out of her purse.
Lifted up her skirt.

It was indeed a lovely night.

Monday, July 6, 2009

MFM 35

Night Watch

The moon sparkles on the water, the gentle splash of waves tossing the boat against the anchor and the shore ties. The tropics always have a distinct feel to them - I've never been able to describe it except to say that blindfold me and drop me in the midst of them and I'd know in a heartbeat where I was. The gentle pitching makes sleep the most desireable thing in the world right now - oh God how I want to close my eyes, just for a moment. My love and my friends are below decks. Only I am here watching the skies and the shore. There is no sleep for me - I am the youngest aboard and the only night owl as well, so I will lean against the bulkhead, waiting for the return of the natives who tried to swarm us today, weapon balanced easily on my legs, searching for anything. any slight disturbance in the water, anyone closing on our shore tie.

I rise, walk forward to look over the bow, stepping over and around the multitude of lines needed to keep a modern sloop headed in the right direction. Damn I'm tired - that hasn't changed. I return, my hourly run abound the 50 footer complete. A swig of water and I'm good for a while longer. I flip on the VHF to see if anyone else is up - I dont feel like advertising that we're here alone, so I just listen to a couple of boats chatting post party - down the coast another 25 miles I'd guess. It helps pass the time. I check the instruments, making notes in the deck log of the wind, waves, and visibility.

You keep your eyes constantly sweeping, as much to keep from falling asleep as anything else. I think I'm seeing a little better onshore - I turn and notice the sliver of pink light at the edge of the world and I know it cant be that long now. All I have to do is hang on a little longer, then someone else can take over. The breeze picks up a little, as it often does at that hour. Toothpicks - that's what I need - toothpicks to keep my eyes open for the next hour. I grin at the thought - that would be a fine sight to greet the early risers - my eyes held open with toothpicks. I move around again, rechecking all the knots that keep us here, in this place of relative safety until the sun comes up. Oh - sleep is coming, I can feel it - only a few more minutes. Daylight is no longer a soft glow, really beginning to sweep the bay. I sense the heat rising - even on the water you feel the heat of the day start early.

Finally it is time. I head down the companionway and reach in to wake the cute blone head nestled under the covers. I'd love to make quiet passionate love, but at the moment I have other needs - sleep, I can just feel it. I tell her 10 minutes and she sleepily nods. I head back up on deck to finish up my watch. It's been delightfully quiet - more than I half-expected. Not that I'm looking for a fight, you understand - I just want to be ready if there is one. A few minutes later I hear the sounds of coffee being started in the galley - last thing in the world I want. Damn. Sleep, all I want is to go below and curl up in the dark and sleep.

My sweetie pops up on deck, wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. No words, no formality, no turning over the boat - she just nods and I head below, leaving her in charge. I hardly get my clothes off, fall onto my berth. Sleep. Oh yes, sleep. Damn that feels good.


Was just not feeling good last week - I had a story in mind but I was (still am) fighting off a chest cold and I just couldn't quite get everything together. It would have been Microfantasy Wednesday by the time I got it in.

What actually happened was that i got 45 minutes of sleep and we wound up in the midst of a school of porpoises. I would up on deck sleepily watching them cavort - I never did get any real sleep that day...

Friday, July 3, 2009

FFF #10

The Jedi's Slave

He sat balancing the wineglass on the tip of his finger, an easy trick, really, one that amused him. She knelt before him, her simple student’s cape swirling on the floor.

“So you wish to serve”

“Yes, Master”

“But you are hardly prepared, my child. You have not even the skill of a padawan. There are 16 degrees of submission about which you are totally ignorant”

“But Master…”

He held up his hand for silence, closed his eyes. She felt her body lift from the floor. Overwhelming fear started her trembling. She sensed the power of his mind exploring hers, knew that as a slave she had no defense against him. His mouth formed a smile.

“That is an interesting fantasy, my child. One of the ancients”

She wasn’t sure what he had found – she had come with a heart as pure as she could make it. She did have fantasies, true – she was a woman above all else. Then she realized why he smiled.


She squeaked, embarrassed. Her body stretched out, no will of hers involved, well above the floor. Her cape unwound, was snatched away – then her inner garments till she stood completely bare to his view. She felt his touch, though he didn’t move. The feelings overtook her, dominated her being. She couldn’t help but respond, though he held her in place. He took her to pleasures she couldn’t have imagined.

As she finished, he laughed.

“Perhaps you’ll do – now about your fantasy with the cane…”


I always thought there was no reason why a Jedi knight couldnt be a kinky bastard - thanks for the opportunity to explore this fantasy - to all my friends at FFF.