RandomMusings

NaNo 2010 - Day 4

2010-11-04T23:42:00.000-07:00

Kept at it all day - snuck in some time at work, and then continued at home. I need to get a little ahead because this weekend is committed to someting else, so I'll get very little done.

Today the total is 18,715. I'm trying to go back and pick up what I missed, and still make progress at the end, so this is spread over several chapters. The biggest issue today is that much of the stuff I was writing during work was emotional - my heroine has just lost her husband, for God's sake - and occasionally brings tears to your eyes. Well, it does me and I'm writing it. I remember the same thing happening last year and I was very happy with the results when I was done. Still, it is a little disconcerting when this happens at work. I'm about through the real (non-fantasy) part of things. Hopefully the rest wont get to me so much.

Anyway, I feel good to be ahead of the game, at least a little.

The #Journaling Game 08/18/2010

2010-08-18T16:00:00.000-07:00

An Old Lover

I watched you dance,
The joy in your eyes,
The music only you could hear
As your clothes moved in the gentle breeze,
The blissful, swirling colors a storm of passion I'd never know again.

You brought me to this place
Oh beloved,
Our place,
Our passion,
Our joy,
But within I knew
You were far too good
For the likes of me.

A lady for a carpenter,
A queen for a soldier,
I learned the goodness within you could share
Your brilliant mind
Blinding my simple heart
In ectasy I thought must last forever,
But in truth
Could only stay until
The moon turned again.

I gave you everything I had
But it was not enough,
Not enough to hold your interest,
Not against every boy in town.
And when at last you left,
Your laughter skipping down the street behind you
I would have wept
But I couldn't
Because you'd left me such happiness to remember
Until I die.

And so I come
Hidden by the green shelter of gentle leaves
Watching you
Wanting you
Knowing you
And happy beyond words
That I'd ever had you.

That was enough.

-------------------

I've not written poetry since I started working on the full-on writing biz. It was a delight

MirroFantasyMonday #75

2010-04-12T15:23:00.000-07:00

Revelation

Your heart opened
And you gave me all you were
Your love
Your tenderness
The most sacred parts of your body
You offered to my touch
Until there was nothing hidden
And then I asked for your submission

I watched you struggle
Wondering if you could truly give yourself
I knew how high the cost
But without it
The rest was meaningless.

You begged me not to ask it of you
Knelt before me
Tears winding down your face
As I told you what more you must do
To be truly mine.
You were silent
You sulked
You thought me unfair
To demand your demeaning
The fear of pain twisting your thoughts

You stood
You could not
We parted
You in tears
Me in strength
It would be a painful time
Sometimes being hard hurts
It was a lonely week
But I had no choice
I am who I am.

I heard the tap
Gentle like a bird looking for a meal
You stood on my sill
Eyes on your toes
Hands behind your back
You couldn't talk
In lieu of flowers
Or a kiss
You handed me a cane
You'd found yourself
And walked past me

I could hear the sobs, quiet
As you turned
Faced the chair
And waited
Opening yourself to me
So completely
It took my breath

I loved you then as I do now
With everything I have
For being mine.

---------------------------------

Thanks to Ang for an interesting MfM theme. Havent had a chance to do much with you all lately. This was kind of an interesting one for me.

2010-03-16T16:11:00.000-07:00

Renewal

The ships came from all corners of the republic, carrying these holy men, these princes of the church, back to the planet from which their religion sprang nearly three millenia ago; human or not, they came, bidden to carry out a rite little changed, selecting the leader for untold numbers of worshippers. It would be a once in a lifetime experience for most, given the recent inclination to choose younger men; for those of us who watched as well, drawn by the drama of renewal.

The ships – ah the ships. Anyone who had stared upward at the spaceport had seen military cruisers, freighters, the huge emigration tubs, But these were unique. They were privately owned, a fleet beholden to no one save their God. Most were old, but all were in perfect condition – so the tri-D had been telling us all week. An amazing collection we couldn't stay away from. We went down to watch them come in. We were close enough to catch a glimpse of their cargo; gasps escaped our lips at the rare sight of an alien member. It is far different to see one in real life, even at a distance that taxed our young eyesight, than to see them on a vid, no matter how realistic. This was the real thing.

At last we went home – Jirry's house had the best tri-D and we clustered around the living room, watching them sit around the table as if it sat in the corner, listening to them speak, watching connections make and break. Of course, it wasn't real – it was a psych-sim, the avatars high in the room kept reminding us – for nineteen centuries only the men in the room knew what happened, and they largely kept it to them selves. Still we watched, fascinated. They chatted – some renewing old friendships, others carrying on the business of shepherding souls. As discussion wore down, consensus led to a first vote. We watched, fascinated, as they collected the ballots in a crucible of gold, counted, and, failing to choose, burned the results with the straw in a building nearly as old as their communion. We wondered what straw was, exactly – it was outside our knowledge, being city boys.

The sim was amazingly accurate, at least in portraying time. The view cut to a view of the chimney, black smoke visible, true believers at the top of their voices, urging on the men performing their sacred duties; they were, of course, completely isolated from the spectacle without. At this point, the avatars warned us, the sim became more and more unreliable due to changing attitudes of the participants, but they would continue for a while. We watched as the Cardinals began politicking, just as any politicians might; the commentary from our friends above predicted just who would next be Bishop of Rome, and, by extension, leader of their church. When, after how many votes, was the question.

We watched for hours; the sim predicted votes closely, and the reality break as the cameras moved to the chapel's exterior made it seem even more real. Commentary on the various contenders continued as, spellbound, we considered who might come to the fore of the ancient process, refined though it had been over the centuries. Finally a vote showed a young Cardinal from an alien race was chosen, at least according to the sim. It wasn't unknown – two hundred some years before an excellent leader had been chosen who was not human as well. It was still a surprise. There was a long pause while the avatars popped down, their desk now back into our room. They filled the time until something happened, explaining that the sim could go no further since it thought that the issue was decided.

We found out the ancient way. The cameras cut to the light smoke above the chapel; shortly the men we had been watching in simulation walked out into the sunset. They had completed their responsibility, an ancient rite of transition fufilled. Frezzo picked up a ball, balanced it on his fingertip.

“Ready to go out?”

We left, pusuing the joys of our childhood, all of us remembering what we had just seen. It put today in perspective, the child of millenia past.

----------------------------

Finally got a little time to try something new for MicroFantasyMonday. It is not as bawdy as the usual stuff I write for that, but it should be responsive to Ang's choice for the week - ancient rituals. Thanks for an unusual subject.

Much of my writing time has been involved with pieces I'm submitting for publication. You'd be amazed how much time gets chewed up with nitty little details. Shortly I'll have a separate full website completed for my stuff.

Sensual Stories, January 20, 2010

2010-01-20T18:19:00.000-08:00

Hard

We curled together
Our bodies united
So many different ways
She gave herself to me
Willingly, freely
And I took her

She was so young
Had not yet learned
To protect her soul
From life itself
I felt myself her guide
Not that I was much older
But far more tattered
And hard

When we kissed I felt her stir
Her body replied to every thrust
Her soft skin slick under my worn fingers
The wonder of her beauty never tired me
The delight of her soul with everyday things
Brought me joy beyond my cynic's droll view of life

I was careful with her. I touched her soul gently
Never wanting to cause her the hurt that would force her
To become as I, scarred over raw pain
I felt the weight of her heart in my hands
Light, gentle, untouched, innocent

Of course, there came a day when it was not enough
When carefree moments
The joy of unfettered youth
The need to go forward won out.
I knew it would
Someday
I waved adieu and watched her walk down the cobblestones
With a boy I could have killed in a single stroke.

Je t'aime, I thought. Always will, I suppose.
I took a deep breath, wiped my eyes.
Perhaps tonight I'll go out for a beer.

---------------------------------------------

Submitted to the #journalling game - see http://sensualstories.realaffection.com/

MicroFantasyMonday #63

2010-01-19T20:22:00.000-08:00

Dreams II

Your lips beckoned
So red
So smooth
Pursed with desire.
Never did I hold back
I always came
Wanting you
Despite the pain.

I could almost feel the silk of your skin
Slide beneath my fingertips
You writhe with passion
Then slide away, laughing
As I try to claim you
Catching only a wispy touch
Your thighs, perhaps
Your back
Your beautiful golden hair

The sound of your gentle voice
Whispering to my ear
So missing from my life
These long months
But this is my dream
This is where we meet
This is where I can hold you
Once again
I can have you
Until morning's brutal call

The laughter stops
You lay back
Watch me for a moment
As you did
Then your eyes
Your beautiful eyes
Close again
Your body white and cold
I have lost you once more

I wake
There is no trace of your scent
No strands of your hair
No mark of your head on the pillow
You are gone
Again
Forever

------------------------------

This is for MicroFantasyMonday; this week Ang's theme is dreams. I had done an earlier poem on a similar theme previously, although it was not a theme-driven event. This was what the theme of dreams led me to again.

For the earlier version see http://papatomla.blogspot.com/2009/07/sensual-stories-july-21-version.html#links

MicroFantasymonday #60

2009-12-28T20:06:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas

We had, as always, a big family Christmas; unwrapping gifts was one of the high points of the day. From three-year-olds to octegenarians, we all sat around while the younger generation passed out cards and wrapped packages from under the tree. At the magic word "Go" everyone started unwrapping, the tearing of paper drowned out by screams of joy. I held mine in my lap and looked across the room at her, waiting for the response. As she finished unwrapping, she held it up. It was a private joke - all the women admired the antique wooden hairbrush, but only the two of us knew what it was for.

I knew when she finished reading the card by the way she looked up at me and blushed. She refused to share the card - I dont think she wanted twenty-five people to read the PS that said

"When everyone leaves tomorrow morning I'm going to turn you over my knee"

The blush turned to laughter as she watched me open my present. It was a well-oiled heavy leather belt. Perfect. It was all I could do not to fold it over and snap it. We both looked at each other smiling.

She walked over to me.

"You have to read the card"

I hadn't seen it since it was taped to the inside bottom of the box. I opened it.

"Dear Santa. I've been a very bad girl this year. I trust you'll take care of that"

I stood up and we kissed, a long passionate kiss. Since we had kids staying with us there wasn't much else we'd been able to do.

She nibbled on my ear lobe, whispering into my ear.

"Merry Christmas, Santa. Surprise."

"Ummmm. Merry Christmas to you too. And that was a lovely surprise. We'll unwrap that present tomorrow. And by the way..."

She looked up at me.

"Yes?"

"There's a brand new cane in my closet too. I couldn't figure out how to wrap it. Surprise."

------------------------------------

This is for MfM, put on by Ang. This week's theme was surprise. Please see http://swelteringcelt.com/ for further information.

2009-12-28T19:09:00.000-08:00

Shutting Down

Standing apart
In an empty room
The pain was in your eyes
And on your lips
Mere words recording
The passage of love
From now to used-to-be

From passion to apathy
We walked together
Destroying what we built
How we loved
Why we lived
Until there simply
Was nothing left

A world of small things
Done wrong our legacy
Both of us wishing it
Could magically change back
Wiping the tears
We leave the keys
Close the door
And walk to an uncertain life

Love is a flame that should
Never turn cold
But when it does
The agony is far, far greater
Than never having known it at all

Submitted to the #journalling game - see http://sensualstories.realaffection.com/

A little difficult to pick back up again - the holidays, sending the novel out for review, and also got two new novel projects through the outlining phase. Needed to see if I could do it again if I had to.

Merry Christmas to all

MicroFantasy Monday #58

2009-12-14T21:39:00.000-08:00

Trading Places

Every month we have what we call play week. For a whole week we have different rules of engagment than normal. I feel that this keeps Annie on her toes, since I set the rules. One month, for instance, during play week she had to wait on me hand and foot. If she failed (and she couldn't help failing once in a while) I'd spank her. Another week she had to wear a French maid's outfit around the house. If she grumbled I'd spank her. I enjoyed it, of course, and she went along, generally with a good sense of humor. This was just for fun - she's not really submissive. but you'd never guess it from the way she acted sometimes.

So last week when I got home from work - she's always home an hour or so before me - there was a big note on the front door. I was surprised.

'This week it's my turn. Come in and go upstairs to the bedroom.'

I walked in and did as requested - after all fun is fun, right? I walked into the bedroom to something unexpected. My wife wasn't there - in her place was a well dressed if slightly small gentleman.

"The mustace is a nice touch," I said.

"Shush. This week I get to set the rules, and for this week we are going to change places. I'll be the guy and you'll be the girl. Including all the jobs."

"I dont think I'll be too convincing. And its not fair, since you're an actress You know how to do all that makeup and dressing and..."

I stopped and thought.

"So that means you'll take out the garbage," Damn I hate taking out the garbage.

"Uh huh. And you'll make dinner every night."

"Oh, big job."

" We'll see if you think it's that easy after a week. For the rest of this week I'm Jack and you're Jennifer. And if you screw up I give YOU the spanking for a change."

I hadn't thought about that part.

"Oh, OK... I guess"

Besides acting she also played a mean game of tennis. I decided I'd better not make any mistakes.

"Also every night to remind you of your role you'll be all dressed up."

I laughed.

"Fat chance. I haven't got anything.."

I stopped as she reached behid her and produced a stack of clothes, including underwear. Black, pink, and red. I've never worn anything but white.

"You do now. I've got you outfits enough for a week. Including..."

She reached back again and pulled out a stack of boxes.

"Heels and a wig. I cant wait to see you. To make it fair I'll help you with your makeup for the first day or two, but after that you better get it right or else."

I sighed. Obviously she had thought this out and planned it carefully.

"Come take a shower and I'll show you how to shave your legs."

Anyone watching would have laughed themselves silly at my metamorphisis into a woman. God what a lot of work. I had to shave everywhere I usually didn't, and she inspected my face and had me shave twice, once reverse,

"I spent some time on a couple of web sites for cross-dressers," she giggled. He giggled, actually.

After more than an hour my makeup and clothes were to her satisfaction. I was reminded that I would come up and do this every night.

"What, I don't have to go to work like this?" At times like this my sarcasm creeps out.

"No..." She paused for a second. "But I think you should wear pantyhose under your slacks. And that's the last time for sarcastic remarks."

She walked over to "our" vanity and picked up her antique ebony hairbrush.

"Do you want to find out how this feels now, young lady?"

I was quiet. Very quiet. I didn't. I shook my head.

"Then let's mind our mouth. Come on, time to go downstairs and fix dinner"

We walked down the stairs, me balanced precariously and holding firmly onto the handrail. I've always loved the sound of heels clicking on the floor; I thought it sensual. It's a lot different when they're your's, I discovered. I walked through the kitchen, unfamiliar territory to me. I started looking through the refrigerator.

"I'll expect a delicious dinner in, oh... half an hour, OK?"

It was a line I'd used on her more than once. The next sentance was "or you'll get a spanking." She didn't say it; she just looked at me and smiled. But she knew I knew. She walked into the living room. A few seconds later I heard the TV go on. I turned back to the refrigerator and tried to remember something she had made before. I was getting more and more panicky. I couldn't think of anything. I looked through the freezer and found frozen corn, and a package of meatballs. I needed one more thing. I took both packages out and tried looking though the cupboard. I was getting desparate. Finally I saw a box of Bisquick. I could make biscuits. That I knew how to do.

"You might want to put on an apron to keep that dress clean. I'd hate to have to pay a dry cleaner. You'd really be in trouble then" The voice came from the living room.

I couldn't think of anything to put on the meatballs, so I just put them and the corn in the microwave. I made some stupid mistake with the biscuit dough, and they burned a little. Just on the bottom, though. Suddenly I realized I needed to set the table. I ran around like crazy trying to get everything together. Finally I called "him" for dinner. I sat there nervously, hoping "he" didn't get mad at me.

"I don't see a salad. or anything to drink either." The voice sounded harsh. "I'll let you slide with a poorly planned and presented meal today, but that's it. Tomorrow it's decent or else."

I got up quickly and opened a beer, served it.

"Next time use a glass"

It was hard not to slip into the mindset of trying not to make "him" mad.

"I'm sorry"

I stood back up and got one out of the cupboard, poured the beer.

After forever passed in small talk about the day, dinner was finally over. I felt relieved. I was sure I was going to get spanked for something. I followed him into the living room. For the next few hours we watched TV together. I cuddled up to him. He, of course, selected all the programs. Finally he switched off the TV and we headed up to bed. It felt funny to put on a nightie instead of pajamas; I do have to admit that the silky feeling all over my body felt sensual, in a very unusual way. Perhaps the fact that my skin was now shaved made a difference, I don't know. All I know was that I felt aroused, but not like usual at all. I wasn't hard - it was much more an internal thing. He came in from the bathroom in pajamas, men's panamas. They fit well, and he looked good in them. He walked over to the vanity and sat down, reaching behind to get the hairbrush.

"Come over here, young lady"

I walked over. This was different too. I knew I'd made mistakes, and I wouldn't blame him for spanking me. It was a really strange feeling, one I'd never had before.

"I was going to let you slide on dinner - I told you that. But I never heard the table being cleared, and I never heard dishes being done. Those are two jobs you failed to do tonight. What happens when you fail to do a job?"

I was startled. I suddenly realized the she did do that every night. I coudn't look him in the eyes, and I found it hard to answer. Finally I stammered it out.

"G-G-Get a spanking"

"Get over my knee"

I dropped over, arms stiff against the floor. I found myself with strange thoughts, feminine thoughts I'd always considered them, of weakness and submission. Even more when I felt my nightie slide up my thighs. When my panties were pulled down and I felt the chill of the night air I started to shiver, as much from fear as from cold.

"Why are you being spanked Jennifer?"

My throat was dry and it was very hard to answer.

"Didn't get the dinner chores done."

"That's right."

I heard the sound of a loud slap and felt intense pain. I'd never felt anything like that. It hurt. The spanking went on for a long time, and every swat hurt, hurt intensely. I was losing control, and I felt tears welling up. I couldn't help it. Finally he stopped and I stood up. I pulled up my underwear and smoothed down my nightie. It continued to hurt even when I stood there with both hands rubbing my behind.

"Am I going to have to do this again?"

I shook my head, trying not to cry. THAT would be all I needed. He got in bed, as did I. A few seconds later I was lying there in the dark, my ass on fire, trying to cope with my feelings. It was hard to let go of everything I'd ever felt of masculinity, but it seemed to be happening whether I liked it or not. I'd just gotten in trouble and I'd been punished for it by someone I loved. Even if it was ... role playing, I suppose ... some part of me had found some feminine area I didn't know was there. I rolled over and the pain spiked as I did. I couldn't help it. I started bawling, amazed. I hadn't cried since I was six.

I felt arms around me, a soft voice whispering in my ear, comforting me. It took a long time.

In the morning I ran downstairs to take care of the kitchen chores before I left. I came back and both of us were reverting to our daytime persona, she in her dress and me in my suit. Except I had pantyhose on underneath. I hoped I didn't get in an accident.

The game went on for the next week. I struggled with feelings of femininity all week, trying to reconcile how I'd been raised with how I felt. I never found an answer I felt good about. I got spanked two more times, and he was playing fair. I really did make mistakes and I did deserve both of them. We spent all the time outside of work in our new roles, and it somehow fit both of us. We never did talk much about it - it was kind of like one long play. I was beginning to see what she liked about acting.

It seemed no time until it was Monday. Play week was over at the end of the day; we would revert to normal. I was startled when I got home and there was another note on the door.

"Come up to the bedroom"

That's all it said. I came up and she was sitting on the edge of the bed, much as she'd done last week.

"I know we havn't talked about this at all. How did you feel about play week?"

It took me a long time to answer, and she just let me talk.

"I don't know exactly why, but it changed something inside me. I keep having these feelings I've always thought soft and feminine, weak. I've never been weak in my life, I've never felt the slightest bit female, but you've done something... well, not you, I guess, this experience has done something to me I'm not at all sure about. It's tapped into feelings I didn't know I had. I... I really dont know where to go with this or what to do about it."

The whole time she was silent, nodding her head occasionally as I spoke.

When I stopped she looked at me.

"Yes, it's definitely changed you, I could see you becoming more feminine every day. It really is a change for the better, in some ways."

I was still unsure of a lot. Finally I asked her

"How about you?"

She smiled.

"I enjoyed it very, very much. And so, I have an offer for you."

I looked at her, not knowing where this was going to go.

"I have another week's outfits for you..."

She reached behind her and produced another stack of clothes.

"... And I bought you another pair of heels. I think you'll like them. It's up to you if you want to continue. I've really enjoyed it, and I really like what you've turned into. To be honest, you are a delightful and feminine woman to be around. It would please me very much, but it is your decision. If you come down dressed and start dinner, we'll continue. Otherwise I'll come back up here and change my clothes and we'll go back to the way we were."

She left the room; downstairs I heard the sound of her wingtips cross the kitchen to the living room. I looked through the new stack of clothes.

You know, the sound of clicking heels when you walk across the kitchen does sound kind of sensual when you think of it.

-------------------------------------------------

Thanks to Ang at http://www.swelteringcelt.com/ - she always comes up with such interesting themes. This week the theme is role reversal. Above is my entry. It probably isnt micro by Ang's usual standards, but then compared the the 79,000 words I've got in the novel it is becoming micro by my standards.

Micro Fantasy monday #57

2009-12-08T14:29:00.000-08:00

Contortion

The blue line crawls
Around your soft white body
Like a snake
Cupping your breasts
Tucking your tummy
Sliding between
Your slippery places
And wrapping your thighs
Frustration itself
For you cant open your legs
Knot
After knot
After precious knot

But knots for bondage
Are trumped by knots for pain
As it binds your arms,
Your soft gentle hands
Behind your back.
You began with your face
Lovingly drinking from me
Gulping,
Swallowing
Pleasing me
So I will please you
The return of caring
For submission

Click
Your hands slowly,
Inexorably,
Rise to the ceiling
Click
Your face begins its slow descent
To face the floor.
But not touch it,
For to touch it
Will return you to the cane
Sitting next to me,
Warning,
Waiting

Click
Click again
You ankles secured
By the snake's friends
Your body twists in
Painful ways you didn't think it could
Every sinew stretched
Unti vulnerability
And pain forces a cry from your lips.

I smile at your pose
Immortalize it
And release you
Slowly
Releasing your knots
And holding you once more
Enjoying your peace
As much as my own

-------------------------

My thanks to Ang, the sweltering celt, for running MfM. This weeks theme was contortion, which to me, among other things, suggested a bondage adventure. See her challenge and the other respondents at http://swelteringcelt.com/

MicroFantasy Monday #56

2009-11-30T19:03:00.000-08:00

Etiquette

You are cuffed
Retrained to please me
Twisting to escape
The wet touch of my lips on yours
My tongue penetrating
My fingers playing your passion

The etiquette of our evening
That you must not explode
You must hold it in
Arousal be damned
Until I grant you
Release
The consequences are painful
Should you fail

You plead
Beg me to allow you relief
Your satin thighs whisper your desire
Your wetness on my fingertips
Proclaims your readiness
Your back arches
I release your mouth
And capture your breast
Nipple firm with lust

How well I know you
How well I lead you
Your voice
Released from my kiss
Moans its will
I slide down your tummy
And you cry out
For as my mouth senses your moisture
And takes it in
My mind senses and loves your passion's perfume
Breathing you into me

We both know you wont
Withstand my touch
You cannot keep your love inside
You share it
Arousal and release
Poetry of your heart
Your eyes locked shut
Body thrusting
Pleasuring
Through our love

Your eyes barely open
Passion's aftermath
As you look into mine
Lovingly
But your body bucks as you see
Behind me on the wall
The cane

-----------------------------------

I have certainly missed MfM and the other writing pleasures as I struggled with NaNoWriMo. It was a satisfaction to finish, but now I have months of editing and rewriting, though hopefully at a slower pace.

20 Nov 09

2009-11-24T17:35:00.000-08:00

Accidentally cross-posted here. This actually is on my writing blog; I decided to leave it here instead of deleting it.

Posting this after the fact. Friday represented meeting my goal. Finished 50,645 words late Friday night, thus meeting the plan of 50K in 20 days. I really felt like I accomplished something. and I (like many others) put up an "I DIT IT" post on the twitter #nanowrimo topic. Finished Chapter 19 and well into chapter 20. I also can see the next 5 chapters to the end (finally) and the plot is falling into place. It looks like it will go a little over 60,000 words - the tale grows in the telling (Chaucer, isn't it? - I dont recall for sure. but it applies).

Anyway its interesting how the contents of #nanowrimo have changed in the last week. There seem to be fewer articles website references and more sticking to the job at hand. I'm guessing a mood change in the writers, but I dont know.

Anyway I'm happy. Luck to everyone.

For a Change

2009-11-02T14:58:00.000-08:00

For a change a real blog post...

Thanks to my twitter friends @caseydamnmorgan, @asparkle, @nettagyrl, and @adelehaze I became aware of the National Novel Writers Month project. Thus far my writing in this blog has evolved, as it has evolved me, to a point where I am ready to try something bigger. So I'll be trying my hand at a full-on novel during the NaNoWriMo (try saying that fast a few times) period - the entire month of November. I wont be posting anything here - I'll be taking time off from FFF, MfM, Bookends, and the rebirth of Sensual Stories. I simply have very little time as it is - adding another 4 - 5 hours a day of recreational writing just wont fit. So, I'll be back here at the end of the month, probably very thankful to write short little things as opposed to a 50,000 word novel.

The main site is www.nanowrimo.org if you are interested in the whole concept.

And for any who'd like to follow my efforts I've started another blog just for this project (and whatever flows from it, I guess) - www.toms-writing-adventure.blogspot.com. I expect to post daily regarding my progress and how easy (or, more likely difficult) I'm finding it. I'll probably also post excerpts as well. As always feel free to comment, there or here, and I'll be back here posting my usual stuff at the end of the month. Thanks to all of you who've commented on my stuff here. The feedback was invaluable, and one of the things that gave me the self-confidence to pursue my muse...

Bookends 5

2009-10-30T15:37:00.000-07:00

Trust

“The only wisdom we can hope to acquire is the wisdom of humility”

He wrote it on the blackboard in large letters and underlined it.

“Now who'd like to tell me exactly what old T.S. meant by that”

I sat in the back of the hall, feeling smug. I let a couple of the girls of either sex in the front row struggle with answers before I raised my hand.

“Yes Janice?”

He cocked his head to one side with that quizzical look of his that was so endearing.

“He meant that literally – he was a great believer in humility. Since the rest of the line is “Humility is Endless” I think it was his way of describing our relationship with an infinite being...”

“Were you paying attention at all girl? That is the silliest interpretation I've ever heard...”

He continued describing my stupidity for the next minute or two before proceding to what he really wanted to say. I was stung. hiding my face from the rest of the class. I thought I really had the answer locked up. Last night after a particularly intense game of “professor and coed” where I spent most of the evening with my skirt up around my waist he'd finally tired and lay back on the huge bed. He was snoring in a minute and I rose to clean-up and leave. As I walked by his desk I saw the notebook he taught the class from. Figuring any advantage would help even if I was teacher's pet I looked at his lesson plan for today and saw underlined his “make them think” question with the answer I'd given next to it on a sticky note. I felt like I'd been suckered.

He ended the class (not soon enough for me) and noticed several girls smirking at me. Teacher's pet indeed – they felt like I had gotten taken down a peg. I deserved it and I could see it in their eyes. As we filed out he called “Janice I'll want to see you after office hours today”

I was puzzled – what would he want that was that important about a wrong answer anyway. Couldn't it wait until later when me met at his house? I rolled it around in my mind during the rest of my classes, searching for an answer.

His secretary didn't like me – of that I was sure. I think she suspected our relationship. Anyway she was usually quite rude to me on the few occasions I had to meet him at his office. Today she was competely smiling, friendly. The hairs raised on the back of my neck. Something was wrong. I knew it. She escorted me into his office, actually placing her hand on my back as we enterred the inner sanctum.

“Professor here is that student you wanted to see...”

He looked up over his glasses and smiled. Now I was really worried. It was definitely the cat and canary smile, and I was wearing bright yellow.

“Shut the door Phyllis – but I may want you back in here in a little bit.”

The door closed behind me and he cleared his throat.

“Well last night was a test and I'm sorry to say you've failed...”

“What do you mean?”

I was trying to figure him out.

“Well, Janice, I trusted you. You had access to my lesson plan and there isn't a way in the world you would have come up with that answer on your own. I was surprised, I guess. And I am very disappointed...”

I stared at my toes. I felt like a little kid who was in trouble, and Daddy was mad at me. Oh damn, I remember what used to happen to me when that happened. Daddy had a thick leather belt and he used it when he thought it appropriate. Mom had a hairbrush that she used. I stood there twisting back and forth. Oh god, I hated it when they were disappointed...

“Janice, I don't know if we can continue if I can't trust you...”

I was stunned.

“Please Paul. Oh please. I'll never do it again. I'll do whatever you want to make it up to you...”

He sat, stroking his chin, that thoughtful expression on his face.

I told him about the spankings I'd gotten from my mom and dad when I disappointed them.

“Couldn't you do something like that?”

The idea of being alone after I'd had a relationship with him for over a year was devestating to me. I'd do anything rather than live with that.

He pressed the button on his desk.

“Phyllis would you come in here for a moment?”

I wondered what she would have to do with it. I started to talk but he put his finger up, motioning me to be silent. She came in and shut the door.

“Phyllis I have a little problem with Janice here. It seems that she has broken my trust with her and I'm pretty unhappy. She's made a suggestion about her behavior and I wonder what you think about it.”

I looked back and forth between them, trying to understand.

He described my behavior, not mentioning what had gone before. He ended it...

“And she thinks that maybe a good spanking would straighten her out. What do you think?”

“Well, if I had to say it, girls often benefit from a good spanking to clean up their behavior. But if it was me I'd use my hairbrush on her for half an hour or so. I guarantee you she wouldn't be sitting in that class for a while, and I think she'd remember to mind her p's and q's for a while.”

I looked back and he was nodding.

“So you wouldn't mind helping out with this ?”

I looked back at her.

“Not at all. I'll just take her down to the ladies room and we'll just have a nice little talk, won't we dear”

Her smile was enough to make my want to throw up. I looked back at him and he was nodding again like a bobblehead.

“Yes. yes, I think that's the right answer. Janice, if you want to continue then I think this will be the way. Do you have any questions?”

I couldn't talk. At least I'd be back with him afterwards but I wasn't looking forward to a spanking from Mrs. Greene. She was taller than I by a lot, and bigger. She looked strong – I thought this wouldn't be pleasant at all. And she looked like she would enjoy it. In the end I just nodded.

“Well, you bring in your hairbrush tomorrow...”

“Oh – OK professor. Janice, you'll be here tomorrow night at this time, right?”

I couldn't do anything but nod.

“OK then – see you then.”

I walked out with her – she seemed so bouncy I wanted to choke her. I walked across the street to the little cafe in the student union, feeling nauseated. I had twenty-four hours to wait and I wasn't looking forward to any of them. I was really scared.

I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and I knew I had to get something – I hoped it would settle. So I did sit and eat...

---------------------------------
Written from a different perspective - last time I did this it worked out well...

Bookends, run by @caseydamnmorgan is an interesting exercise - given two sentences, write the story between them. Try it sometime... see http://www.caseymorgan.org

MicroFantasy Monday #51

2009-10-26T20:54:00.000-07:00

Waiting

The call had been brief
The message terse.
She took a childs stance
Eyes inches from the corner
Her jeans and panties
Lay on the bed
Hands behind her back
Legs cramping
The quarter hour
Joining the last two
Her eyes clamped shut
To hide the terror

The hairbrush waited
Where he decreed
The chair in position
Armless
Straight-backed
Evil
Her body shaking
Anticipating
The reach across his lap
The restraint of her movements

A drop of sweat rolled down
As she recalled
The pain
The last time she disobeyed
The marks, the soreness
Stayed for days
She promised herself
It would never happen again

But it did

A car door slams
Minutes later the front door
It seems hours before
His footsteps drum on the stairs
Days before the bedroom door opens
And he strides to the chair
Calling her
She opens her eyes
Turns from the corner
To see the anger in his
And show the naked fear in hers
Before, eyes downcast
She lies over his lap
Terrified
Awaiting his touch

----------------------

MicroFantasy Mondays courtesy of Ang at http://www.swelteringcelt.com/. This week the theme is fear.

Friday Flash Fiction #26

2009-10-25T23:34:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: Padawan's First Adventure

The ship's engines rumbled, resonating in Lara's mind. She was on a mission with Jar Gon - a real mission as his Padawan. She was excited - she had never left her home planet. Her job was to watch and learn - nothing more. Still, it was an honor. She reached down again and touched her lightsaber - it was still there! Jar Gon looked over and saw her. He smiled, then turned back to the reports from Mangus, a dumply planet famous for mining obscure metals needed by the Republic's industries. After a moment she did the same.

She thought about the last few weeks - her training progressed, but she'd had difficulty with the blind sessions. She could avoid attacks, but she couldn't find Ben Kor to strike.She tried falling back on her feelings and was amazed to see his figure outlined in the yellow-orange of hatred. She slipped behind him and struck him repeatedly until he surrendered. After three more bouts with the same result the lights came up and the leaders eyes were twinkling

"Good senses you have, Lara. An excellent swordswoman you will be. Your capabilities are better than the force alone."

She had gone through the ceremony naming her a Padawan. She'd received her lightsaber, one of few women to do so.

She tried to focus on the reports but a vision kept interrupting. In the distant future she saw herself and Jar Gon on the jigsaw peaks of a mountain range fighting for their lives. She shivered, wondering what lay ahead.

2009-10-23T17:46:00.000-07:00

The New Listing

It was the sort of house that you never seem to come to the end of, and it was full of unexpected places. Marilyn moved to the next room, laying her measuring tape in both directions and enterring the size on her listing form. Being a mid-19th century estate there were many more rooms than normal, and she had to document each of them, She had finished inventorying the kitchen appliances, noting the clever way they had been built in behind false wooden fronts that matched the cupboardry. No expense had been spared, it seemed, making the home modern, yet not violating the classic ambience. She was impressed.

She was especially impressed with the price. If she could swing it she would buy it herself. Jan, the woman who had listed it didn't seem to match the careful planning and execution of the home – she was just in a hurry to get it sold and move on. She presented the necessary paperwork showing that her husband was deceased (in England, of all places). Marilyn expected not only her normal commission – the woman was willing to pay to have all the furniture removed and placed in storage, as well as having any necessary cleaning and inspections done.

The house was quiet – almost too quiet. She had finished with the downstairs - next she would head upstairs and measure the bedrooms – all eight of them – and the multiple bathrooms. As she passed the full length mirror on the wall she turned and checked her appearance. She felt proud of her figure at thirty-six – she turned back and forth. Not that she was vain (well, maybe a little). Her appearance was one of the tools she used to sell houses. That and her friendly, if slightly authoritative personality. She had come a long way in the four years since her divorce. Ten years of marriage had left her very little. When she had discovered that he was an alcoholic and a cheat that was enough. She had moved to the small lakeside town to get away from everything she had been. She had worked her way into real estate sales, and it looked like she would be able to take over the brokerage when Jack retired. She was studying frantically to pass her brokers license. Then, even if he didn't allow her to take over she would be able to take the next step. And afford a place like this. She sighed, and turned to take one last look out the window over the lake. Another example of the care with which the home had been built, it was a modern picture window, but wrapped in old molding and sills so it fit into the great room. It was a beautiful view. She headed up the stairs.

She pressed the old-style pushbutton to light up the long hall. That switch must be 100 years old, she thought. Still it worked perfectly. The first few bedrooms were of average size, furnished with antiques, and beautifully done. They looked like guest rooms – they didn't appear to have been used often. Still, all were immaculate and well laid out. She measured them and dutifully enterred the values. The last two included the master bedroom and, she had been told, a den. She turned to the left and opened the door – she was amazed at the size of the bedroom and the choice of the furnishings. Rather than the antiques furnishing the rest of the house this room was unashamedly modern. A huge bed, matching his and hers chests, sparkling mirrors, large screen TV. electronics... there must have been tens of thousands of dollars of furnishings alone. she stepped through to the master bathroom, where the motif continued. Even – she giggled – a bidet. She turned to the womans low vanity. Centered on it was an old fashioned mirror and hairbrush set. The hairbrush was long, dark wood – the type that had terrorized little boys for generations before hers.

She picked it up and held it in her hand – it was heavy. She'd had only one experience with a hairbrush in her life – her “big sister” during hell week at her sorority had used one on her for infractions real and imagined – it didn't matter. She smiled at the recollection – she had rubbed her behind at night, then between her legs, then gone pleasantly to sleep after several orgasms. She hadn't thought about it in years. She set the hairbrush back down and headed across the hall to the den.

The door refused to open and she had no key for it. She tried to reach across the molding above the door but she was too short, even on tiptoe. Grumbling, she returned to the master bedroom and carried out the chair, then stood on it. Running her hand along the molding she felt the key. She caught it as it fell, then returned the chair. She opened the door and gasped.

It certainly wasn't a den, at least not in the normal meaning of the word. All along one wall were implements for punishment. She recognized a few, from where she wasn't sure- paddles, canes (she thought that's what they were called), several leather straps. Also several with multiple tails – she didn't know what those were called. And the room was furnished in the same type of thing. Across the room from her was a large straight backed chair, a small table next to it containing several more paddles and a hairbrush that was the mate to the one in the bedroom. There was a stool, and a reproduction of an old-fashioned set of stocks - she'd seen the original in a museum on vacation she recalled. Finally, there was a padded sawhorse, only it wasn't rough-built like the sawhorses she'd seen workmen use. It was smooth, oak she thought, well-finished, and the padded leather looked rich.

It looked too tall for her, but she tried leaning over it. She was a little too short to bend all the way over it. She wondered what it would be like... She tried getting on tiptoes and she nearly fit.

“Hmmm... You've been a bad girl” she giggled to herself. She walked over to the opposite wall and took down one of the smaller paddles. She came back and bent over the sawhorse again. She was curious as to how it would feel – she tried swatting herself. It was hard to do - in this position her blazer was a little tight. She stood up and took off her blazer and laid it over the table next to her. She leaned over the sawhorse again and tried swatting herself with the paddle. This time it really did hurt.

“Ow” she thought. "Guess I'm glad that I'm not getting that for real."

She closed her eyes and thought back to the time in college. She wasn't sure why but she felt a sense of arousal. She swatted herself one last time.

“Would you like a little help with that young lady”

The voice was deep and distinctively masculine.

She squealed and tried to ease off the horse.

“Oh no – not yet”

She felt strong hands around her holding her in place, then the paddle was wrested from her hand. She tried to turn and look at her captor, but all she could see was the bottom of his slacks and a pair of very expensive wingtips.

“Let me go.”

She began to have a moment of panic.

“I dont think so”

She felt herself lifted from the horse and carried across the room. He sat in the chair and stood her in front of him. She appraised him. “Yup, qualified buyer” was the first idea that came into her mind. His Armani suit, silk shirt and power tie matched the shoes. He clearly had the money to do what he wanted. Then she realized how silly that train of thought was.

“Supposing you tell me what the hell you're doing in my house first. Then we'll talk about everything else.”

“Your house? I have a client who came in and listed this house for sale...”

He looked impatient.

“For sale. Hmmm... let me guess. Jan. Tall blonde. Forty-ish. Drives a gold Lexus...”

“Yes...”

“Needed a quick sale. Had to leave the area...”

“Yes...”

“Closing costs dont matter. Send the money to her in Nevada...”

“Yes. That's her. She had the death certificate for her husband.”

He began to look angry.

“Death certificate?”

“Yes. She said he died in England. She was broken up about it and just had to leave.”

“Well I just bet she was. Well, rumors of my demise are greatly exadurated, as they say.”

It took a minute for her to understand.

“So this is all a scam?”

“Looks that way. You see, I am a consulting geologist for several oil companies. I spend a lot of time out on oil drilling rigs here and in England. I also spend a lot of time reporting to management and boards of directors both places. So I'm gone for long periods of time. She was expecting me to be gone for the next month.”

“What happened?”

“We had a rig blow out and I dont have to be out there until they fix it. So I have a week off. One she didn't expect”

“Oh”

“This is just an ugly divorce. She was trying to get an additional settlement. I'll have my lawyer visit your office and he'll have the police take care of it.”

She stood there in front of him, not sure what to do.

“OK – so you dont want to sell then? This is a beautiful place...”

His face relaxed in a smile.

“No – not as long as I'm alive.”

He looked at her thoughtfully.

“So shall I pretend that I didn't see what I did?”

His eyebrows raised. She blushed bright red, and now she felt really confused. She looked at him in a different light. He was attractive, very attractive now that you thought about it, and if she was ever going to get a spanking from any body...

“Well?...

He was so attractive that she could want him even if there was no spanking invloved. But there was. Or could be...

“Ummm. I guess you know a lot about this stuff, huh?”

She was trying to give herself time to think, but he wasn't having any.

“I know enough to be able to see a girl who thinks she needs a spanking”

He reached over and pulled her down across his lap. She felt more embarassed than she remembered ever before in her life. His hand lay on the seat of her skirt, and his touch awakened something within her, a desire, arousal. She couldn't help squirming a little on his lap. She felt his hand smoothing her seat, gently, but with a firmness that made her melt.

“Ouch”

He swatted her – not particularly hard – more it was a surprise and she cried out not in pain but because she was unprepared. The room had no carpet and the walls were panelled rather than the softer coverings in the other rooms in the house. The sound of the swats from his hand echoed around the room. He didn't really hurt her – she couldn't explain why but the impact of his hand was driving her to heights of arousal she didn't recall before either. She could not hold still on his lap, wriggling back and forth.

“So how's my naughty girl doing”

She could hear the smile in his voice. He continued the spanking, not too hard, just enough. After a while her wriggling turned to thrusting her hips. She began to really want him inside her. He stopped, then she felt her skirt slipping up her thighs.

“No wait. Dont....”

“Well, well, well. If that isn't cute”

She knew he was enjoying the view. Her one surrender to feminine frilliness was her underwear. She loved lacy underclothes, and preferred old fashioned stockings to pantyhose, so her tormentor was looking at skimpy black lacy panties, a matching garter belt, and dark nylon stockings. She had never shared her preferences with anyone, so no one she worked with would ever have guessed. But he knew. Her face, if it was possible, was an even darker shade of red, she knew.

She felt the intimacy of his hand on her bottom. Without the skirt in the way she could feel the toughness of his hand.

“Ow”

Being spanked this way was much more painful – she couldn't keep from crying out, and this time it really smarted. He continued. She couldn't help but feel that he somehow knew how to handle her, how to master her. She definitely felt the swats much more – they were hard enough to make her beg him to stop if he went on much longer. But then he stopped, wthout being asked. Again, somehow he knew, she thought.

She felt him open her legs slightly, then run his finger along the edge of her panties. Down her bottom. Down the inside of her thigh. Down next to her lips...

“Oh God”

His touch was unbelievably right, sensitive, gentle... She bucked on his lap as he began to stroke her, moving far more than from the spanking. He continued until her words became incoherent, lost in the pleasure of the moment. She had no control, no knowledge, nothing.

He stood her up, lifted her and carried her across the hall to the bed, softly laying her on it. She watched as he stripped off his shirt, pants, shoes. As his shorts came off she caught her breath – she had only been with a few men, but he was bigger than anyone she had seen. Or heard of, considering the powder room grapevine. Gently he pushed her on her back, then slid her panties off. Opening her legs he gently dropped onto her. As he enterred her, she felt him moving slowly – perhaps he had learned to be tender because of his size. But he quickly filled her - if he were any bigger it would have been painful. She reached up and enfolded him, giving back the pleasure she felt. Their passionate thrusts matched and it was not long before they came, both crying out together as one.

The sun was setting as they rose, having lay together holding and whispering the rest of the afternoon. She fetched her clothes and dressed – he pulled sweats out of the chest and slipped easily into them.

“So how long are you here?” she asked.

“Till Friday. Would you like to come over?”

“Try to keep me away. What happens then?”

“I'll be on the Gulf coast for three weeks, then over to the North Sea”

“Would you like company?”

He looked at her appraisingly.

“You know, in all the five years I was married to Jan she never wanted to go anywhere with me. I never expected... I mean, yes, of course”

The expression on his face warmed her.

“That was her. I'm me. I go where my man is”

It was a little presumptuous, she thought, but he would get used to the idea.

“You do know, the paddle is still here. Waiting”

“Well you know how to use it, dont you?

“Yes”

“Then I'll learn how to take it."

He walked her out to her car, kissed her goodbye. As she backed down the driveway she looked back. He was leaning against one of the porch pillars, a smile on his face. She waved and he waved back. As she headed down the river road towards home she started thinking about the paddle. Yes, it would hurt. It would hurt a lot. Enough to be scary. But the thought flittered away quickly. If things are good they’re not terrifying, are they?

-------------------------------------------------
Bookends, run by @caseydamnmorgan is an interesting exercise - given two sentences, write the story between them. Try it sometime... see http://www.caseymorgan.org

MicroFantasy Monday #50

2009-10-19T16:12:00.000-07:00

The Contest

Her eyes gazed up
Shiny with unshed tears
Her heart pounding
As she nodded obedience
To his unspoken order

The contest between
What she deserved
And what she endured
Defined her submission
And her love

She bared her body
As always
And bent to grasp
A dancer's ankles
With her delicate fingers
Forcing herself
To want the pain
To desire the pain
To accept the pain

His muscular arm drew back
Then planted
Rattan's kiss
She bit her lip
To stifle her cry
Eyes fixed
On chair legs
For if she wandered
Her control would go
And she would lose him

After the stroke
Her mind eased the body
By meditating on
Their passion
And their love
Knowing that she needed
What only he could give

The pain a line of fire
It took all
To maintain the stance
To avoid the dance
Many do
Because it pleased
But fire it was

She awaited the next stroke
And the next
Now tensing
Now letting go
The fourth was always the worst
Because there were still more to go
And the urge to surrender
So high

She could no longer keep
The tears
The cries
But in letting them out
Her resolve rose
To see the end

She stood
After he released her
Pride in submission
On tiptoes to pull
Them close
As they walked together
To their bedroom
For an afternoon of
Aftercare
She caught a glance
Of the double stripes
And smiled

She had
Indeed
Won

Firday Flash Fiction #25

2009-10-19T15:11:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: The Power of Mind

A glow suffused Lara's being. After the gentle passion with Angaa she'd pulled herself together to return to training. The afternoon was a mental challenge. It was the first time she had to try – in a world of darkness, black as coal, she had to engage a Jedi and avoid his training light saber. While not fatal, when it hit her it stung – badly. And it did not help that the young one who disliked her – Ben Kor – clearly enjoyed the process. He was her training partner. One thing that betrayed him was his anger – she could sense it as if it were visible. Again and again she avoided his blows. At the end she was worn down and his final blow caught her on the back of her thighs – she cried out and the pride was clear in his voice.

“For the Win!”

The lights came up and the leader stood. She was still rubbing the sore spot as he complimented her. She winced and shook her head.

“I can do better” she gritted. She did not want him to think her a tempermental female, easily beaten.

Ben Kor smiled.

“When you are ready”

---------------

That night she lay with Jar Gon, drained after lovemaking.

“Master, I have something to share with you”

“Yes little one?”

“Master beause of the rosewater I now enjoy the touch of a woman. A lot. Are you angry with me?”

He smiled.

“Of course not. I just wondered when you were going to tell me...”

------------------------------

This weekend not only did I have to work, but I had two down computers - one hardware failure, the other a nasty virus. Should any of you encounter the SecurityTool virus the latest version is really nasty - took over the whole machine. It took all day Sunday and much of this morning to get it wiped out...

Bookends No. Three

2009-10-16T16:56:00.000-07:00

The Train Ride

"A blind agitation is manly and uttermost. If you do not enjoy it, why make a fuss about it"

She planted her little flower of civilization into the conversation.

"Uh huh - and what exactly did you mean by that, Ma'am?"

"Oh you're so ignorant, you're such a ..."

Words failed her, an uncommon occurance. Just then the train enterred a tunnel; the darkness and the sounds enveloped them for a while. When they exited, blinking at the sunlight, she found her travelling companion in the same condition, slowly laying down the cards for solitaire. One difference - he was smiling at her.

"You yankee women sure can talk."

She sputtered for a second.

"Well, I should hope. I've studied in the finest universities, spent time in Paris..."

His calmness was unmoved.

"Well that doesn't say what kind of person you are, now does it Ma'am. I can't help but wonder what you are doing out in this god-forsaken part of the country"

She pulled her cloak around her shoulders as if for protection.

"I have family business in San Francisco. One of my sisters..."

Her voice trailed off as she thought of the errand she was on.

"Hope its nothin' serious."

His voice was half question, half condolences. She wan't sure she wanted to share family secrets with a total stranger, especially a man so... different.

He stood, picked up his Stetson from the seat next to him.

"Pardon me Ma'am, I'm going for a smoke"

She watched him cross the car to the rear platform, pulling a cigar from his suitcoat pocket as he went. Actually she was surprised at his gallantry - she half-expected him to smoke in her presence. The silence almost turned into loneliness - something she thought silly, but there it was. She turned back to the need for her trip - Lily was not only in trouble but sick as well. She wasn't looking forward to straightening out another mess. She was the strong one, though, and that had always been her lot in life. Sometimes she wished she wasn't.

He walked back to their seats - they were the only occupants of the car. No wonder, she thought. Who would want to come out to such an uncivilized country unless they had to.

He stretched out on the seat, dropping the hat back next to him. He looked at her thoughtfully, his weatherbeaten face concerned.

"Ma'am, you really seem to be troubled. Is there anything I can do to help you out?"

She laughed bitterly.

"Certainly. Help me pry my sister out of a really bad marriage and get her on the train back home. Her husband is truly evil."

She was surprised that she had stopped trying to hold everything in. She didn't know why, but she was beginning to trust him. He seemed to have a quiet strength, different from the men she knew.

"In what way is he evil? Just because he wants to keep her there?"

"No - if it were that simple... He beats her. All the time. And now she's sick and he's been beating her even more becasue she isn't ..."

She couldn't bring herself to say her own sister was a whore. To be honest she didn't know what she would do when she got there. Or could do.

"Dont cotton to men like that"

She felt strength from his displeasure. She felt a sense of right, of doing the correct thing. But she suddenly couldn't hold her feelings in any more, just could not continue to be strong. She started to sob, teardrops running down her face. She felt his body next to hers, hard and lean, his arm around her heaving shoulders.

"Ma'am I've got a few friends in that town, including the police chief. I think we can get him pried away from her. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it"

He reached down and tilted her face up to his, his blue eyes angry.

"Don't worry"

That was all he said. She was content to sit near him, watching him play.

Later they talked. They talked of differences and similarities. They talked of New York and of Dallas. They talked of her writing and his cattle ranch. They talked about each other. She became used to his gentle drawl and he to her sharp-edged pronunciation. She walked out on the platform while he smoked, something she had never dared do before. He sat quietly playing cards while she read.

The night before their arrival she curled up next to him, sleeping while he played. His arm around her body, she felt completely safe in a way she hadn't since she was a small girl.

As they climbed down from the railway car she was impressed at his command of the disorganization of travelling. He lined up porters for their luggage and got everything moving to their hotel. He had insisted she stay with him - he had cancelled the reservations she'd made in the small hotel, moving her into his suite in the Stanford.

She was impressed when the chief and several policemen paid them a visit that night. Bret explained the situation to them far better than she could. All of them had grim faces as they left. He left with them, telling her to wait for their return. It was over an hour when the door burst open and he carried Lily in to the bedroom, accompanied by the policemen. The two women screamed and hugged each other, Lily thanking everyone within earshot for rescuing her. She promised again and again that she had learned her lesson and all she wanted was to return home. Home never looked better.

The next morning they put Lily on a train headed there.

"I've got a little business to attend to, then we'll have dinner."

Business took several hours - she took the time to think over her new find. They weren't lovers but she could easily see it hapening. She wondered if she could give up her life for his - she had no idea what it was like to live on a cattle ranch. Of course, he hadn't even asked her yet.

Over dinner they began again.

"Train leaves for Dallas in the morning. Would you like to be on it with me?"

She looked at him. She'd already worked through to her answer. Tears welled up as she said yes. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a box.

"Guess you'll be needin' this then" he said with a sly grin.

She blinked at the size of the diamond, then screamed and threw her arms around him.

The next morning they held each other as the train pulled out. She curled up next to him, putting his hat on the other seat. She smiled as his arm wrapped around her body, then gave a little sigh.

He gathered some of the cards together and shuffled them...

---------------------------------------------------

Bookends, run by @caseydamnmorgan is an interesting exercise - given two sentances, write the story between them. Last week since I bitched about writing like a Brit she instead gave us quotes from a couple of American authors (although Stein was an expat in Paris most of her career). It remains an interesting exercise regardless of how you frame it. Try it sometime... see www.caseymorgan.org

MicroFantasyMonday #49

2009-10-13T18:54:00.000-07:00

Black and White

Kayla walked into her great-grandmother's house, laptop under her arm. It was her on-going challenge to try to get gramma Louise onto the net.

"Hi Gramma"

"Hi child. How are you today?"

"OK - want to check your email and see if you have any?"

"No, not right now. But there is something else I'd like to try"

The old woman pulled out a letter, crumpled with repeated reading.

"This is from an old friend of mine. Thanks to you we just got back in touch with each other"

Kayla smilled at the recollection.

"She sent me a place on the net I'd like to see. Can you help me with it ?"

"Sure Gramma. Let me see it"

She unfolded the note and swiftly keyed in the address. Quickly a website popped up - it was totally foreign to Kayla, but she looked over to see her great-grandmother totally entranced.

"Honey show me how to get around here..."

Kayla showed again for what seemed the fiftieth time how to use the mouse. She was surprised as the older woman moved assertively in front of the monitor.

"Kayla go get yourself a coke..."

When Kayla returned she was amazed to watch the woman she had thought computer-illiterate easily handling the keyboard and mouse. She seemed lost in deep thought as she maneuvered quickly through endless photos of groups of men, old airplanes, and unfamiliar scenery. Suddenly she stopped, zoomed the photo she was looking at to fill the screen. Louise screamed, then began to wail. Through her tears she was repeating

"Oh God, I miss you..."

"What is it, gramma?"

It took a long time before she made a visible effort to pull herself together. She attended to the tears with kleenex, than began to explain.

"Honey, that is your great grandfather and his crew. He died right after that picture was taken, and I've never seen it before. He was a real hero."

"That was a long time ago, gramma?"

Kayla didn't know much about her great-grandfather except he had died before her grandfather was born.

"Yes child. During World War II. We were so proud of him. I met him at the beginning of his flight training. We were married then, and I only had a few months before he finished and he was gone. I had hardly any photos of him - we weren't supposed to take many back then. And when he was over in England some of his buddies had cameras, but they weren't allowed to send the photos home. So I've never seen these before."

She pointed to the picture of a dozen men in bulky clothes standing under a huge airplane. She pointed out one, a tall handsome man.

"That's your great-grandfather. Everyone of those boys was in my kitchen at one time or another. His copilot.."

She pointed to another of the black and white figures.

"...Jack and his wife were our best friends. I know Jack survived, but his wife was killed in an accident before he made it back. I always felt for him"

"Gramma, How did he die?"

"Honey you have to remember how close these men were, and how bad it was for them. Grampa Bill - I guess that's what you would call him..."

Kayla nodded.

"...He was promoted again and again because everyone around him kept getting shot down. Anyway they were over Germany I think it was - I've never been sure. They had been hit a bunch of times by airplanes and guns. And the plane was going down. He kept the plane level enough that everyone else could get out..."

Her voice started to break.

"... and then it blew up before he could get out..."

"Gramma..."

She stood up and walked over to her credenza and opened one of the drawers. She handed a small box to Kayla. She opened the box, looking at the blue ribbon and gold.

"This is the highest honor our country has to give. And your grampa got it. In fact the president gave it to me himself"

"Gramma - really?"

She reached further in the drawer and pulled out a framed photo. Kayla looked in disbelief at the much younger image of the woman standing in front of her taking the box from the man she remembered from her history books.

"Oh my god..."

Kayla simply didn't know what to say.

"Kayla, I'd like to borrow your laptop until I get one of my own. Would that be OK?"

"Of course gramma"

"OK then - why don't you get on your way. I want to go through all these photos for a while. I'll be OK"

---------------------------------------

Late this week - had a funeral for a friend that took up most of my time until now. Really puts you in a reflective mood - thus the treatment of this week's theme...

Firday Flash Fiction #24

2009-10-09T21:36:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: Reconciliation

The summons had been brief.

"We have not seen you for a while. Please honor us with your presence."

Lara knew it was the right thing to do, scary though it was. She requested an autocar to take her to the Ordelian ambassador's residence. Angaa rushed out to greet her, hugging like old friends.

"It has been weeks. We've missed you. How can we grow..."

Lara interrupted her.

"There have been new developments. We must talk":

"Of course - come in child"

They walked in together.

Lara began.

"You must realize that I now have to live in two worlds. First, in yours, the world of the sisterhood..."

"Of course. That is why..."

"Listen. They have tested me.It seems that I have the midichlorian levels to be a Jedi. A very high level Jedi."

Angaa drew in her breath.

"But how can you be part of us and part of them? Aren't they our enemies? Don't we need to rebel against them?"

"Listen, dear one. My abilities will allow me to be..."

Lara paused. It was important that she phrase this correctly.

"... a bridge between the sisterhood and the Jedi. It is most important to both our continued growth that this work well, and to our mutual benefit"

Angaa looked at her in a different light. That Lara could be a person of power rather than a conquest was new.

"You know that I must discuss this with the others..."

"Of course. But know this. It can only be good for you. Already I have the start of votes in the senate to prevent women from being punished for witholding information from the sisterhood. We have hopes of getting it passed soon."

Angaa stared

"How could you do this? This will benefit our drive to be one with your..."

Again Lara interrupted her.

"I do not have much time. I am due for training in a few minutes. It is that simple. You must trust me. I have only our interest at heart."

Angaa nodded.

"So have you discovered the drive I told you of?"

She took Lara's hand, reached in her back pocket and produced a crystal bottle.

Lara smiled.

"Perhaps I do have a few spare moments..."

Bookends No. Two

2009-10-09T10:56:00.000-07:00

Peter's Little Wife

She liked people who made their own scrapes for themselves before they fell into them, and then got out without being fished for. She liked them because they were interesting, because they were strong, because they were clever, but mostly because they were something she was not. Never in her life had she been quick-witted enough to get out of problems of her own making. Like today.

After university she found a position in a small law firm. The smallness guaranteed she would be visible, highly so since she was secretary to one of the partners. The many men flocking to his office also guaranteed her a steady stream of flirtacious encounters. In the end another partner, young by law firm standards, has stolen her heart with his gentle wit and she was now his. He still stayed at their flat in the city during the week while she had retired to run the country house. She didn't mind the isolation at all, and with three in help she was able to keep a pleasant home for him with little effort on her part. He was gentle, kind, and twice her age. And therein lay her problème de jour. He was as much parent as husband.

She had a small acount to manage for the house - for the grocer, the chemist, a few others. She'd made an inconsequential error balancing the account, and the bank had rejected three cheques. When she realized her mistake she had tried at once to make it right, but she didn't have any money of her own. She could not see any way clear of this. Unfortunately Peter was rather unyielding on financial matters, and she remembered his words the first week they were married. He had presented her the materials for the household account, and casually said if she ever made a mess of it she could look forward to a caning.

So here she was - a twenty two year old woman about to be thrashed like a child. The last time her mother had thrashed her she'd been ten. She hadn't enjoyed it at all. And she wasn't looking forward to tonight either. She'd sent the chauffeur to pick up Peter at the train, and the smells from the kitchen hinted at a delicious dinner. The maid had polished the living room to a high gloss. Now all she could do was wait.

Once again she thought over her choices. She could bluff it out and just ask him for a little more this month. She could tell all and beg for his mercy. She could lie. She just didn't think she could out-bluff him, and she had never been able to get away with a lie, even a little one. She sighed deeply. Might as well get it over with and try to salvage a decent weekend, even if she couldn't sit comfortably.

She dismissed the servants early - she told them she'd like to serve him dinner on her own. She went to his den and fetched the cane from the closet. He'd never touched her with it - she knew that was at an end. She heard the Bentley on the gravel and hurried out to meet him, the cane held behind her skirt. The smile split his face the moment he saw her. She threw her free arm around his neck and kissed him passionately. She knew that after her punishment things would never be the same between them. After a bit he pulled back and looked into her eyes. Tears began to flow as she brought out the cane and handed it to him, He shook his head sadly.

"Tell me" he wanted to say "everything in the whole world."

-------------------------------------

A continuing series - see http://www.caseymorgan.org/ for more information. Two phrases are supplied - one must be the first, the other the last part of the story. We fill in the space between the bookends.

MicroFantasyMonday #48

2009-10-05T16:34:00.000-07:00

Survival

Your little pink pin
Reminds us all of
The time you lay
A small body
In a huge white bed
Ensnared to the wall
By tubes and wire
The fear you faced alone
No matter how much we were there

Women are strong enough
But you are the strongest of the strong
Fighting to care
To continue
To be the moms and lovers you have always been

You’re missing a curve or two
Here or there
But in our eyes
You are as beautiful as ever
And always will be

-------------------------------------

Dedicated to all the victims of breast cancer. Soul mate and I have been lucky in that it has never affected her, but we both know lots of women that it has.

In case you missed it, the National Football League (American football for those elsewhere) allowed players to wear pink in support of National Breast Cancer Awareness month. It was kinda cute to see these big burly lineman and tough defensive backs with pink shoes on. Coach Singletary had a pink brim on his hat.

Friday Flash Fiction #23

2009-10-03T00:49:00.000-07:00

The Jedis's Slave: Training

The sweat drop rolled down her nose. She hated PT. Her young body was in fantastic shape, but that seemed to motivate her trainer to push her further. Padawan hell, she felt like a pack mule. The mental exercises were ridiculously easy – they had not even started to push her capacity, though she was careful not to let anyone know that. And then there were the bullshit things, taught by those who couldn’t do, so they taught: the unfailing courtesy with which Jedi were expected to respond; the haiku-like chants; and the geopolitical knowledge to help run a republic spanning their part of the galaxy. She sighed. It was hard, but she was making progress. And she had been made a special case. She had gotten what she wanted

She and Jar Gon looked at each other across the bed. She had dropped in a fit of exhaustion.

“Well according to all accounts you are doing well, Padawan”

She knew he called her that just to tease her.

“Yes Master, err Yes Master Jedi – is that better?”

“Yes little one – I’m never sure which role you’re playing at the moment.”

He smiled, and her heart beat faster. She reached over to him, longing for his touch.

“You know, although you are a slave, some people from the lesser developed planets would probably treat you as a god.”

He rolled over and positioned himself above her. She felt the arousal rise as he entered her.

He grinned.

“In God we thrust”

Bookends No. One

2009-10-02T23:26:00.000-07:00

The Prisoner

He slept like a man that’s dead. The gentle release of sedative gas into his cell had taken him down quickly, down from the heights of screaming paranoia to near-normalcy – if you could describe inability to think normal. As he went under again the glimpses of faces appeared before him – no amount of sedative could prevent that. Their mouths open in horror, their eyes frantic with desire to avoid any contact with him, the trails of blood as he opened their skin – he wondered idly what they had done to deserve dying at his hands. Oh well, it really didn’t matter. They deserved to die and he was better than most at making it happen. A man should enjoy his work, after all.

His body twitched as random synapses fired, still not aware that sleep was coming. He dropped, sliding down the smooth aluminum skin to a heap on the floor, an unkempt pile of clothes, flesh, and telemetry. His dreams were dark chains of death, one victim after another. He could hardly tell the real from the desiderata. A few he thought he recognized. Most, he had no idea. It filled his mind, awake or asleep. Save for the few moments he had on first arising to ponder his life.

The cell was small but not unduly so – an efficient size to house the prisoner. The light was always on – enough to see, but not enough to keep him awake had he wished to sleep without intervention. He rarely did. The color was neutral, a light cream he thought, though other than his skin he had no way to differentiate colors. It was always clean, though he had never cleaned it himself. He had tried to set traps to catch someone cleaning it while he was under, but he was never truly able to say that he could prove it. It was the not knowing that ate at him. He could never be sure...

Similarly there was always food available in the small cupboard. He never knew exactly how it was replenished, but there was always enough. He liked the bars in the red wrappers best, although the ones in blue were a close second. He almost never ate the ones packaged in yellow. There was nothing on the wrappers to indicate what they were. And he could not describe the taste – only that the three were different and that he enjoyed one over the other. He could not even recall what real food tasted like. Like the cleaning he had set traps to catch someone replacing the food bars, but he could never be sure...

Water was available, and sanitary facilities. He had tried all sorts of experiments to provoke some action – a visit from his jailers, a maintenance man, anyone. But nothing worked. A supremely intelligent man in his life, he knew that some of his experiments had to have caused the need for response, but the constant cycle of raving paranoia followed by enforced sleep rendered continued rational thought difficult. Still, he tried. The lack of reference or a diurnal cycle – any semblance of normalcy – frustrated his attempts. He had no idea how long the cycles were. Hours, he thought. But he could never be sure...

There was nothing to write on or with. He was limited to what he could carry over in his mind, twisted though it was. He had tried scratching on the walls – the traditional prisoner’s calendar, a record of bad and worse days, but there was nothing he had that made a mark. Once he had thought he had made a small dent in the area above the head of his bed, but when he next awoke it was gone. But he could never be sure...

Bodily movements indicated his imminent wakening. He planned this part of his life carefully, for it was the one period where his mental faculties functioned. He tried not to give any indication he was awake, laying still and continuing his breathing to try to think through things. This was when his memories were accessible. This cycle was no different. He remembered that he was a prisoner, that he was being punished for killing hundreds of innocent people on his home planet, wherever it was. He recalled being dragged past crowds screaming for his execution. He suddenly recalled that he was in an automated prison is space, that there would never be any release for him, no human contact, he was here forever. Of that he was sure...

Previously whenever he remembered it all he had tried to end his life. He had tried every way open to him, but he had no weapons. The cloth for everything he had couldn’t be formed into a noose. The sink didn’t hold water, and the water level in the toilet was too shallow to drown himself. He sat on the floor and began to bawl, the enormity of his punishment dawning on him once again.

He felt the paranoia begin to rise again. As he began to lose control he wondered if his mind was going or if they were doing it to him. It didn’t really matter. But he never could be sure...

The worst was the silence. In the years he had been there he had not heard a sound save his own voice He was being punished. The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind…

-------------------------------------------

The first in a series - see http://www.caseymorgan.org/ for more information. Two phrases are supplied - one must be the first, the other the last part of the story

Late, as usual I am.

Micro Fantasy monday #47

2009-09-28T16:48:00.000-07:00

Frustration

I thrust
You parry
I explain
You reload
Our thoughts have somehow
Gotten to cross-purposes
Till neither of us
Can listen to the other
But instead prepares
The next arguement
To be skillfully inserted
Where it will cause the most pain

Soulmates we may be
But that doesn't mean
That we
Agree
Forever

But sometimes I wish we did

-------------------------------------------------------

Somehow I missed the last few weeks - I kept looking thinking that Ang's blog would come back up, but I think I had a bogus URL and I never saw the new (or rebuilt) blog come up until I noticed that @PandaDementia had a new (in fact several new) MfM's on her blog, tracing down an FFF of hers that I missed. Anyway this should be a little more micro than my usual efforts.

Friday Flash Fiction #22

2009-09-27T23:13:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: Beginning Again

Again she walked across the floor to the leader. She knew that Jar Gon was despondent - he sensed he was losing her, but he also knew - they both did - that she must make her contribution to the republic. She bowed.

"Sir, I have a question"

"Lara, please. Speak you will"

"Sir, the hardest thing is for me to give up is my slave submission to Jar Gon. It complicates everything. Is there a way I can serve as a Jedi and still be submissive to him?"

His eyes glittered - a smile on his small face.

"Lara, believe I do that you have been placed on this planet to challenge us all"

They both laughed.

"This consider I must"

"Sir - if I can continue as a submissive to only him, I would do whatever you and the council feel best. If not, I would want to stay as I am. I know that I would be giving up much..."

"Lara. Too strong you are to allow failure. A success we must find."

He turned and walked across the room, lost in meditation.

She returned and started to sit at Jar Gon's feet. He stood instead and pulled her to him.

"Little one, I know what you prefer, and it is indeed what I prefer. But it may not be best for the republic."

She interrupted him

"No Master. Please..."

"If we must - I will relelase you from your slave contract"

------------------------

They rode home, silent for a while, The air conditioner struggled to overcome the heat and humidity that had left their clothes plastered to their bodies.

"Padawan" he began.

She cringed.

"Master..."

"Padawan your first assignment is to determine how our Ordelian bretheren are passing messages without encountering our decryption barriers. We believe it to be buried in some simple file structure, perhaps in the matrix of an image file. Steganographic analysis is called for here. But you knew that."

She was silent. It would be a difficult day.

------------------------------------------------

BTW this is exactly how terror groups in europe were circulating messages. If you look at the jpeg spec it is open ended, meaning it is easy to add a data type that passes non-encrypted data that is invisible unless you're a hacker. Like I am...

The Last Midweek Missed Connection

2009-09-27T20:28:00.000-07:00

You brightened up my day - Wilshire District, w4m

So there I am all day with my boring little job in my boring little lobby. The UPS guy is old and the Fed Ex guy is married and all the sales people are stuck up beautiful women - yuck. And then you came in. Be still my heart, for real - I was afraid you'd hear it beating. You were there to drop off flowers for one of the Vice Presidents - everybody says she's a real bitch. You must be a delivery boy, but hair so beautiful I want to touch it, leather jacket and tight pants. Everytime I think of you I get wet. Oops - did I say that? Well, you're not likely to read this, but if you ever do you have a real admirer.

----------------------------------------

Patty was jolted from her pleasant daydream by the jangle of her phone. Not the receptionist's number that she always answered, but the one assigned to her personally. It never rang.

"Miss Newsome, after the close of business you are to report to Miss Miller's office. Room 1400"

"Yes ma'am"

She wasn't sure who was in room 1400 but that was the top floor so she must have been important. Patty couldn't figure out why she could be wanted. She started worrying - what if this was a lay-off? The rest of the day dragged on and on.

Room 1400 was a huge office, covered with expensive-looking oak panelling, a view of the city to die for. Miss Miller was, according to the plaque on the door, Senior Vice President.

The next hour Patty was grilled. Miss Miller was interested in her personal life and seemed happy when Patty told her typical story - small town girl in the big city, didn't know anybody, no boyfriend, no family. Miss Miller cleverly got every shred of Patty's life out in the open without giving anything in return.

Finally she leaned back in the expensive leather chair.

"Well, young lady, I'm going to move you up here where you'll work under my direct supervision. You'll get a small promotion - I'll let your manager know she has to find a replacement tomorrow. In the meantime she can remember what its like to sit in the lobby. You'll be coming home with me tonight."

She had Patty sign a number of forms - she didn't read them at all, just assumed that they were connected to her new job. At length Miss Miller pressed a button on her desk and asked for her car to be brought around.

"Come, dear"

Patty followed her like an anxious puppy. Down the elevator to the front where the limousine was waiting. Patty felt lost in the back seat - Miss Miller reached over and touched her knee.

"Don't worry. You'll get what you have coming, dear"

---------------------------------

Patty was still confused as the they pulled up to a palatial home. They were greeted by a servant.

"We'll be in my study. Have James join us imediately"

"Yes Madam"

Patty followed her into a room that was similar to the office. Impressive - Patty couldn't help but wonder what her part would be.

"So young lady you feel you have had a boring job in a boring lobby, and that whomever those flowers were for is a real bitch, hmmm?"

Patty jumped, sucked in her breath.

"Miss Miller, I..."

"Save it. The dear boy that you were drooling over is my boy toy, young lady. My property, since he has signed a slave contract to me. "

Patty stammered.

"I didn't mean it. Truly I didn't"

Tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh, yes you did. Don't lie to me, or you'll be in more trouble. And don't start crying yet. Did you even look at the papers you signed in my office?"

Patty shook her head

"I thought not. Well dear, you just agreed to submit to my total control. Total. And that includes punishment when your behavior is inappropriate. And I think putting yourself up on Craigslist like that was inappropriate. Don't you?"

Patty couldn't help but nod. She had the awful feeling she'd had as a little girl when she knew she'd done something wrong and her mother was about to get out the hairbrush. Subconsciously she reached back and covered her bottom.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in James"

Patty gasped as the boy she had so desired stepped into the room.

"Yes Ma'am. You called"

"This is the girl I told you about James"

A small smile played around his mouth.

"Yes Ma'am"

Miss Miller smiled as well.

"Well we'll see if she gets wet whenever she sees you. James, go up to my bedroom and bring me down the hairbrush"

He bowed and swiftly left the room. He was back in a moment. In his hand was a hairbrush - an awful-looking one. Patty couldn't help but start to cry. Miss Miller pulled out a straight chair and sat down, looking imperious in her expensive clothes. She was the picture of power to Patty.

"Come here, dear. You're going to learn what punishment is"

Patty blushed.

"Please don't spank me in front of him. Please."

Miss Miller smiled.

"What's the matter, dear - feeling second thoughts about bad behavior?"

Patty begged her.

"Please. It would be awful having him see me get it..."

She felt embarassed. The boy she wanted so badly would be witness to her being punished like a girl.

As Miss Miller pulled her over her knee and bared her bottom arousal was the last thing on her mind.

"James, I think this will be a good lesson for you in the handling of girls who dont behave themselves"

"Yes Ma'am"

Patty could hear the smile in his voice. As the hairbrush came down for the first of many times she couldn't help but wonder what she had gotten herself into.

-------------------------

This is the last issue of Midweek Missed Connections. I enjoyed it - I thought it was an unusual way to seed a story, and I expect that I may look to those ads for further inspiration. My thanks to Casey for coming up with this writing driver. I must say that I was somewhat surprised at the extent to which vanilla people would reveal themselves to the entire world.

Thanks, Casey.

Friday Flash Fiction #21

2009-09-23T16:27:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: Reflecting

They lay together in the garden looking up at the sky, bathed in sweat after their extended lovemaking session had spilled from the bedroom, their mixed voices a libretto of love.

“Master this is a hard thing you lay on me”

“Well, if you like, I'll lay it on you again”

His voice smiled.

“Master that's not what I mean. I have trained to be a submissive, to bow to your will. Now you tell me I must make this decision myself and you wont even tell me what you want me to do”

“Lara it must be what you feel in your heart you want to do. Our entire civilization may depend on your unique abilities. It may be that you must sacrifice your desires for others. That is what the Jedi ideal of service is. And I cant be the one to choose – it must be you”

Lara rolled the possibilities over in her mind. No matter what she chose things would never be the same, she decided. Even if she stayed with Master she would still have responsibilities. Beyond his, in some ways. The other paths would have her gone for extended training, and then who knew where she would be sent.

“Master, no matter what, would I always be your submissive?”

“No matter what, if you wish”

She looked up at the stars.

“What is that one, Master?”

“Ophiuchus – the snake”

He always knew, and she was always amazed.

“That is how I feel, Master. Like I am dealing with snakes”

--------------------------------------

As noted below this has been a very difficult few weeks for me - I wanted to post this since I think I've made every FFF and I hated to break the chain...

2009-09-23T16:19:00.000-07:00

Midweek Missed Connections #11

I Was In Your Office – w4m

We were talking and then you walked out with me. You laughed at my story and then the
next morning, I walked by, you whispered "I Like you". I think you know by now "I like
you also". The attraction has always been. Respond if you know this is me.

---------------------------------

Rene – is this you? Has to be, that's exactly what happened. Stop by after work.
Charles

---------------------------------

She was on pins and needles waiting for five o'clock, feeling relieved as the workday ended. After freshening up she headed for his office. She flipped her hair, knocked on the closed door.

“Hi – come in”

The smile lit up his rugged face as he escorted her in, closed the door behind her.

“You know, I've never met anyone like this before”

She was still nervous, but relaxing. He held her small hand in his large one, and they talked. Little things. Big things. Finally she noticed it was dark.

“I probably should go”

He smiled his crooked smile, rose and led her out

“OK– we'll see each other again”

As they stepped out into the long corridor he touched her shoulder. She turned to him. They kissed, a long slow kiss. He pressed her against the wall, her arms around his neck.

“Mmmmmm – see you later”

She walked away slowly, her heels echoing. At the end of the corridor she looked back. He was leaning against the wall. He smiled and waved. She blew him a kiss and turned back.

“Thank you Craigslist”

---------------------------------

As usual this is a real CL post. Didn't change a thing.

Last two weeks have been difficult - physically, a bunch of tax stuff that took most of my time, and back to back races last weekend. So this is very very late.

Friday Flash Fiction #20

2009-09-12T09:34:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: Decisions

Lara followed the young Lieutenant back to the council chambers. Jar Gon strode to meet him, and the two began talking animatedly. Jar Gon looked at her, a strange expression on his face. He turned and walked slowly back to the leader, bending and whispering in his ear for a long time. The leader stood and addressed the group of nine Jedi assembled.

“Lara must be made aware of her capabilities. Jar Gon. Explain to her the choices.”

He nodded

“Reconvene later we will.”

They were both quiet on the trip home. Lara was positive that she was in for a whipping.

As they stood in the living room she began to cry.

“Just get it over with.”

Jar Gon appeared astonished.

“This has nothing to do with that. It seems you have some abilities that I never realized”

Lara stopped crying.

“What?”

“It seems that your midichlorian count is higher than most Jedi. I’m not in your league”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that if the council so decides you could be sent for training tomorrow morning.”

Lara started to speak, but he placed his finger over her mouth.

“You also have the unusual combination of reflexes and thought processes that make an outstanding starfighter pilot – they don’t come down the pike very often”

She shook her head.

‘And finally, you have the unique option of being a bridge between the Jedi and the sisterhood. You would continue to live here with me, continue to play the same role, but you would report to the council as an extraordinary member.”

“And do my feelings matter at all?”

“Of course they do. That is why I have given your options. My feelings, unfortunately, do not matter”

---------------------------------

That evening she looked over at him.

“Master – if I have this high whatever count, what does it mean”

“It means that you can, with training, harness the force better than most of us Jedi”

She thought a moment, then giggled. A second later Jar Gon found himself laying naked above her.

“Put. Me. Down.”

She giggled again , then eased off her nightwear. He felt aroused by seeing her unclothed, but a second later an even greater reason presented itself. He felt as if his organ was in the sweetest lips ever felt, though she was not touching him. He hardened even more, almost embarrassed.

“Stop that”

Slowly he was lowered between her open thighs, pulled within her.

“Do you want to let go of me now?”

“Oh. Sorry Master”

As she felt him begin to thrust within her, her mind began to fade into a blue mist. She smiled as her passion rose

“I could get used to this.”

Midweek Missed Connections #10

2009-09-11T13:52:00.000-07:00

Firefighter at my Starbucks - w4m - 23 (Stadium Fred Meyer)

Well, men rarely make me nervous... especially when I'm serving over a counter... but you did...tall with dark hair...sigh...handsome... you undid the Velcro of your pants to stuff your money in your jeans pocket... and it turned me on. I'd never seen you there before...what did you get... just straight coffee. My kind of man. Did you put creme in at the condiment bar or just sugar? Will you come back and make me nervous again? Or perhaps even reach over the counter and... hmmmm.... where is this going? You tell me.

Twas August 31st... morning some time.

---------------------------------

I was tired and the water from the pumper truck had soaked through to my uniform and all I wanted was a hot cup of joe. So here's this sweet little thing up on tiptoes to hand my coffee to me – I remember looking up after I undid my cargo pocket to stuff the change back in and she was looking at my crotch. Boy did she snap her head away, but I caught the red face as she did. She was cute.
--------------------------------

“Hi there”

I put both elbows on the counter and leaned over. She turned around.

“Oh.”

“So I make you nervous?”

Hey eyes locked with mine. She nodded, then looked down.

“Good – shall I reach over the counter and see where this goes?”

She lit up with embarassment. I couldn't help smiling.

“Why dont you just bring me some coffee first. Black”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

This one I got from my Portland search last week. I wrote the story, but I wanted something else. Now it's grown on me so I submit it this week.

MicroFantasy Monday #44 - The Prequel

2009-09-07T15:11:00.000-07:00

Contacts

I was muttering as we bounced along the trail. Mandy looked over at me and smiled. I couldn’t help smiling back. I just was expecting to have a ride together, not have to bring my little brother along. He was such a pain – he was so different from me that I couldn’t believe we had the same parents. Where I took auto shop, he took calculus. Where I played football he played World of Warcraft. Where I wanted to spend time with my girlfriend he wanted to spend time on the net. But my mom had insisted we take him with. To get some fresh air, she said.

So he sat in the back of the Jeep not particularly happy with being away from his computer. Mandy had done her best to make him feel welcome. I knew he had kind of a crush on her, so did she I guess, but she smiled at him every few minutes and he finally seemed happy enough. You had to yell to be heard with all the canvas off, so we didn’t do too much talking.

I’d found this trail through the far edge of a dry lake, and it looked interesting. It headed up into some low hills I’d never been through before. Mandy had a topo map spread out and was looking for any points of interest. She was good with maps, better than I was. She’d warn me ahead of time when we were heading into steep country or places where I’d need 4 wheel drive. She could just tell.

After a few hours we were well into the hills. As we crested a ridge I saw a thin vein of smoke coming from a valley a ways off – at least I thought it was smoke. I stopped to talk things over.

“If that really is a fire we need to make sure and then call in so they can send someone out”

Mandy nodded at me.

“Whatever” came from the back seat. Adventurous my little bro wasn’t

“On the other hand if somebody’s hurt we should help them out”

That got about the same level of agreement, so I started up. We had some tough climbing and the brush was starting to close off the trail as we got closer. Finally we were as close as we were going to get in the Jeep – we’d have to walk the rest – it was just too steep. It was just over a steep ridge. We started hiking.

Danny bitched a lot about all the walking – finally I got tired of it and told him if he wanted to go back to go ahead, but to stop complaining. I told him he was being outpaced by a girl, but I don’t think it affected him much. But he finally did try harder to keep up.

We climbed to the top of the ridge and looked down at the source of the smoke. It was a pile of black wreckage – it looked like one of those fast Air Force planes. There was no evidence of life – we all called, even Danny – to no avail. Danny started talking, half thinking to himself

“That almost looks like an SR71, but its not big enough and besides they don’t fly them in this area I don’t think…”

While he was talking he was sliding down the hill. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

“… can’t be a stealth either – there wouldn’t be this much left”

“Danny what are you talking about?”

I started to slide down after him.

He grabbed some brush to stop himself.

“I don’t think that’s one of ours”

I looked at him. Well, he should know – his room had been full of models and pictures of every airplane ever built since he was little. It was one of the things he was proudest of.

“What – you mean it belongs to another country? What’s it doing here?”

He turned. I could tell he was serious. It was the first time I ever saw him so totally confident.

“You two stay up there until I check it out. This might not be from here at all”

I started to ask a question, but he was lost in thought as he slid down to the bottom of the valley and slowly approached the wreck.

“Well just be careful. Mom will kill me if anything happens to you”

He picked up a stick and began to prod the edges, levering a piece of the metal up. It was loose, and I watched him pick it up. He hefted it in his hand, finally ran his fingers over it, tried to bend it with both hands.

“Jack this isn’t anything from here. This skin is lighter than composites, thinner than anything I know of, and so strong I can’t even bend it. I..”

He hesitated.

“I don’t think it’s from earth.”

That was creepy

“We better call someone”

I had forgotten about Mandy. I turned to look as she popped her cell out of her jeans. It happened so fast. Danny called out to wait as she flipped it open and hit the keys. I turned back to look down and saw a bright flash from the wreckage reach out to Danny. He dropped like a stone, and as I turned back I saw the look of horror on Mandy’s face. She dropped the phone.

I ran down the hill trying not to lose my balance. His eyes were closed as I picked him up and dragged him up back up the hill. It was hard moving dead weight up the steep slope but finally I got him to the edge. Several times he had made quiet moaning sounds, so I knew he was alive. I caught my breath for a minute before I started carrying him down to the Jeep. Mandy ran ahead to get out a blanket and some water. He started to come around about half way down, but he wasn’t really coherent. Finally we made it and I laid him down on the blanket. He opened his eyes.

“There’s two of them in there, I think”

“Two of what” I asked.

“Two of whoever flies that … thing. Two pilots or extraterrestrials or whatever they are. I’m not sure if they’re alive or not, but I’m pretty sure I saw one move.”

I reached in to pull the thirty ought six off the gunrack.

“Well I’ll make damn sure they’re not alive”

He reached up to grab my arm.

“Don’t. They probably had a defensive thing and the radio waves from the cell phone triggered it. I don’t think they were trying to hurt me. It was probably automatic. I’m OK now. Honest”

He stopped for breath.

“I want to go back there and see if they’re OK.”

“Absolutely not. Are you crazy?”

He grinned.

“Probably. But do you realize what a day this is? If they’re really extraterrestrials that would be a first. For the whole planet, not just for us. Think about more than yourself”

He stood up – shaky at first but more steady and determined as he headed up the hill. I was proud of him, in a funny kind of way. He was really leading the way in more ways than one.

He turned.

“Are you coming with?”

Mandy and I hurried to catch up with him…

----------------------------------

This was originally written for an MfM, but clearly at over 1200 words it isn't even close to micro. It was driven by Ang's theme, and was what I wrote first - although not what was submitted. Still, I kind of liked the way it came out so I thought I'd share it with Y'all. I'd love any comments you have on this one.

MicroFantasy Monday #44

2009-09-07T15:00:00.000-07:00

Others

Do you ever think
While you’re looking up
At all those stars
That are out there
In all that space
Extraterrestrial couples are
Making love and looking
Back and wondering about us.

Do they kiss?
Do they whisper all the things we do to each other?
Do they care passionately?
Do they make dumb mistakes choosing partners?
Do they hold each other with whatever arms they have?

As we lay
Together
Outside
Afterward
Watching the skies
I’m happy
I have you
To share these thoughts

Friday Flash Fiction #19

2009-09-05T20:48:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: Testing

Lara was bored. The first tests were like going to the doctor – techs took her blood, tested everything, peeked in every conceivable place, and mapped the tidal flow of her body. It made her feel like a piece of meat. Few of them talked, increasing her feeling of isolation.

But then she had been taken to a game room. She’d enjoyed playing action games, brain teasers, and flight games. From there she was taken to a simulator that looked like a real starfighter. She climbed in, fastened the restraints and flew – she was shaken, noise enveloped her, and her smile became beatific. But that was before.

Now she sat across from an irritated white-coated woman drinking soda from a koozie-wrapped can . She’d asked Lara to move the ball sitting on the table between them. Lara reached for it.

“No – I want you to move it without touching it.”

Lara could – as a child sent to her room she amused herself by rearranging her dolls without getting up from bed. But she never told anyone – She knew she was different. She had refused for over an hour.

“Young lady, I not only happen to be a psychiatrist and a senior officer, I also am the mother of three daughters. And I have found nice is over-rated.”

She opened a drawer and pulled out a large paddle.

Lara closed her eyes, slammed the ball across the room, breaking a mirror. She started to cry.

The woman smiled.

“Thank you, dear.”

Midweek Missed Connections #9

2009-09-01T19:45:00.000-07:00

mature Domme checking you out - w4m - 420 (W Bemerton Park and Ride)

You are the professional mature gentleman, always dressed in freshly pressed. short sleeved button down, and checking your messages. I know you have an eye for the young girls, pity. Sucks 2 b me, :)

I like the change you made to your hair, so soft and touchable. I like standing behind you as we wait to board the ferry, nice view.

--------------------------------------------------

He remembered standing in the misty Seattle rain, waiting for the ferry. He had never noticed anyone watching him, but then he hadn't been looking either. The ferry was just an hour gone from his life, the price of living on the peninsula. He made a note to look for her.

--------------------------------------------------

She was taller than he – and, he told himself, a strong, beautiful woman. Since his marriage ended he hadn't really been looking for anyone, but if he were, she would be it.

“That was your ad on Craigslist?”

“Yes. I'm glad you found it”

“Funny, I almost never use it. I was looking for some parts for my old MG. And there you were.”

She smiled, a warm smile that invited him. Their talk lasted the whole ride, beginning the sharing that might lead to a relationship. At the end, he gave her his arm and they walked together off the boat. He turned to her

“So what exactly is a Domme?”

She smiled again.

“You recall that you said that you were missing direction in your marriage?”

He nodded.

“Dear, you will never have that complaint again”

--------------------------------------------------

No way would I find a post discussing rain in LA in August. I tried Portland and Seattle and even THEY didn't have a post that mentioned rain. But this one came close enough.

MicroFantasy Monday #43

2009-08-31T19:54:00.000-07:00

Passion's Symphony

Your body plays
The sweetest sounds
When you can no longer
Stifle them
And your head flies back
So far in passions grasp
You lose the demure pose
You present to everyone else

For me
And me alone
This voice
This music plays
As love's liquids flow
Down my fingertips
The perfect perfume accompaniment
To the joy in your closing eyes

Your softness twists and turns
As sounds reach a crescendo of
Pleasure
Passion
Love

Gently
Your sounds become
Softer
Softer
Till they are no longer sounds
But the stillness of breath
Waiting for the next symphony

Alone Tonight

2009-08-30T22:11:00.000-07:00

Falling
Without limit
It is all within my head
I think
But why does it feel so real
Like there is nothing
To keep me up here

Don't listen to the sirens
They call you
Into a depth of blackness
You didn't know was there
They take you from
Your reality
Into theirs

All that brought you joy
Solarizes to pain
And the pain
To pleasure
Until your sanity
Slowly drips away
Because your not sure
What is good for you
And what is bad

There is a dark side
To us all
And when it can
It comes
Unbidden
Sometimes
Uncontrolled
It is strong enough
To overcome life itself

I'm sane enough to
Go to work tomorrow

I think...

I hope...

Friday Flash Fiction #18

2009-08-30T14:38:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: Advocate

The tone on the communications module interrupted Lara's tears, which thus far had continued like raindrops. Jar Gon glared at it, then at her, reached up to key the message as she melted into silence. The face of the Jedi Council secretary appeared.

"Sir Jar Gon, your presence is requested at an immediate meeting of the Council. It is further requested that you bring..."

She paused, clearly not wanting to be disrespectful to a superior.

"... your slave girl Lara with you"

"Is this really necessary? We have business to attend to of the highest importance"

Lara suppressed the urge to start crying again.

"I'm afraid those are my directions. If you wish me to tell the Council..."

Again she paused.

"No, that wont be necessary. We'll be there as quickly as we can."

The link was shut down, and Jar Gon busied himself with reprogramming their destination in the autocar's nav system.

"Don't think you get away with anything"

His voice was still angry. They were silent for the rest of the trip.

--------------------------------------

As they ascended to the top of the building where the Jedi Council met, Lara was startled to sense a number of conversations. One thread, dominated by a fairly young voice, was arguing against the right of a Jedi to have a slave of any type. Several older voices were raised against him, but his arguments made up in volume what they lacked in fact. She realized with a start that they were speaking of Jar Gon's and her relationship.

A second thread questioned what she was and how she could be a member of the sisterhood when she was a human.

Yet a third questioned whether or not she could be a loyal citizen if she was a member of the sisterhood.

It was easy for her to maintain a knowledge of all three of the threads. She sensed Jedi (she assumed they were Jedi - who else could they be?) moving between the threads, sometimes speaking, sometimes not. She was curious - she had always had the ability of knowing what others thought, but it had never been quite like this. She could as well have been in the room listening to them speak.

At last they arrived - she followed Jar Gon into the council chambers. She looked around. Immediately she was able to identify the members she had sensed, as well as a group of other Jedi, younger, clearly not a part of the council. It was an eerie feeling. She sat on the floor at Jar Gons feet, considering the possibiliities. She looked up at him - he was deep in thought, obviously wondering how to deal with the situation. She tugged at his cloak.

"Master, may I have your permission to speak"

"Huh? Yes of course" he responded, not really paying attention.

So like a man, she thought. She rose, slowly walked across the floor. As the only woman in the room, she knew, sensed, that all were looking at her. She stood before the leader, bowed, and asked his permission to speak. His gaze travelled thoughtfully over her body. She sensed his curiousity.

"Yes, Lara, speak you may"

"Thank you Sir"

She turned slowly, facing them all...

----------------------------

"Know This, Jedi. I come to you as a free woman, a citizen of this Republic. As a free woman, I have certain rights..."

She paused.

A young voice rose

"Why must we listen to her. She has no standing here..."

She turned to the leader.

"I have your permission to speak, Sir. Must I have his also?"

"Of course not. Ben Kor, silent you will be. Listen. Something you might learn"

"Thank you Sir. As I say, I have certain rights. One of those rights is to give myself in whatever way I wish to whomever I wish. It may be to the person I love, to the person who loves me, the best of course is both. I may give myself as a slave to Sir Jar Gon. If I choose to do that, if I make him my master, it is not because he took anything. He did not take me as a slave. I have thought of him since I first saw him at fourteen. And I determined then that he would be mine. As much as I would be his. He had no choice - I was thrust upon him. Those of you who are married, or have concubines, know that when a woman determines she will have something, you had best not get in her way. We will have what we want"

She paused - a gentle chuckle passed around the room as each man considered his experiences.

"Before I ever started, I researched the matter of Jedi and slave girls. It was common for hundreds of years. That it changed recently was custom, not law. That it changes back is custom as well. There is nothing to prevent me from offering myself to him as his slave, and nothing preventing him from accepting as my master"

She paused. She could sense assenting thoughts around the room. The young one still was angry - she wasnt sure why - but she knew she had the rest of them.

"As to my being a member of the sisterhood, yes I am."

She heard the expected gasp, paused for a second.

"I did not seek this. I did not desire it. It was as thrust upon me as I was on my Master. It has allowed me to understand much - it is a different way than the force, but it is powerful just so. It is a linkage between species and races that we don't now have. It allows us connection in a different way, a different goal. I realize that it may be frightening to you because only females may be members, but then there are few female Jedi either."

She paused, again getting a wave of small chuckles.

"It happened as a result of my status as a slave girl, and it was an important part of the relationship we have with the Ordelians. I have thought about this much, and I have come to the conclusion that it was not an accident. That it was intentionally manipulated to provide an additional way for them to reach us. I believe that this should be allowed to continue, and I urge you not to interfere. That this has happened to me, part of a Jedi's household was no error, no accident. There will be others, I'm sure."

She stopped, deciding how best to continue.

"It has forced me into a place of deciding how much to share with my Master. There are things which we, as members of the sisterhood, need to keep to ourselves. I made a mistake and was not honest with him. For that mistake, after we leave here, I will be punished. But for the future, you must suggest the laws that allow women who become part of the sisterhood to keep those secrets they must. Other women - your wives, daughters, concubines - must not be placed in the same position. For make no mistake, I have no doubt, they will be."

She sensed them considering her words. That was the best she could do.

"Finally, I must state in the strongest terms possible that I am a loyal citizen of this republic, Nothing, not even the sisterhood, could change that. Thus far I have seen nothing that makes me feel that they want that. Should that change, I will be here to give you warning if you wish. But I do not expect that. You must accept that any human woman who becomes part of the sisterhood will stay loyal, caring, and a part of our world. She will be enhanced, not diminshed."

Again she sensed that she had their assent. Now they must act accordingly.

"Thank you, Jedi for listening to my words"

The leader stood and walked to her, took her hand.

"Lara - thank you for your words. Much you have given us to consider."

She bowed, turned and returned to sit at Jar Gon's feet.

He whispered in her ear.

"So why in the hell aren't you a lawyer. You make a good one. How did you guess exactly what to say, what to argue"

She knelt up, whispered in his ear.

"Master I could sense all their arguments on the way up the building as if they were talking to me. There were three main groups talking..."

He looked at her sharply

"You could separate all three? That is hard for me to do"

She laughed.

"Of course Master - they were transparent. It is no different than fixing your dinner while deciding what to wear to seduce you while thinking about the bills..."

She stopped at the expression in his face.

"Master?..."

He stood and walked to the leader, bent down, and whispered in his ear. She saw much nodding.
Jar Gon returned.

"Come with me. I want you to take a few tests..."

-----------------------------------

Yes, it is late. Let me tell you about my Saturday. I spent much of the day with four women in the family driving down to San Diego to visit a member of the family (younger than I, which always gets to you) who is dying of cancer. It is likely that for most of us this will be the last visit. So it was not a really good day. The schedule got me back to Marina Del Rey at around 5 pm, plenty of time to finish my Friday piece.

Then, imagine our surprise when we get a cell call from another family member who stayed home. It seems the Station Fire has changed direction. We now have a cousin and her daughter in the car who are at the edge of the mandatory evacuation zone. Whoops. We head home (from 90 minutes away) full tilt boogie. Oh, and we have to stop once to pick up cars from our central meeting point.

We separate. I offer my apartment as a place to stay. It is grateully accepted, since almost no where (except the evacuation animal shelters) will accept a dog, which, by the way, is in the back yard of the house. We are heading towards the 210 when I start hearing a lot of scanner traffic. Some idiot is on the overpass ready to jump, so they shut down the 57. It takes forever to get to an off ramp, longer yet to figure out which way to go to get to the freeway I want. The rest of the way I listen to the helo pilots and fixed wing aircraft coordinating their drops, and the ground guys trying to work up the hill. Finally we get there.

At least the street isnt barricaded. It looks major - fire trucks all over, the flames clearly visible - maybe a mile away, and coming down the mountain. Most people headed out, cars packed full. Spectators driving in (this is LA, remember), standing around in groups of 50 with still cameras and video's on tripods. We get there, the women run in and (as far as I know) packing and conferring. I stay in the car because the smoke hurts my damaged lungs. I wait. And I wait. Finally, I give up and go in.

The mother and daughter have decided that NOW is the time to tear into each other about issues dating back to childhood. NOW? I'm tempted to backhand both of them and send them to their cars, but I guess they have to work it out. But now? After a couple of "I cant stay in the same house with her" I give up - I'm having a hard time breathing, always a fun experience. Finally we leave. We get home close to 11, and start watching the news to see how much worse its getting.

So no, I couldnt get it done last night.

----------------------------

This is one of the few cases where I had to go over 250 words. I dont know of any way to break up a soliloquy without it coming across reading stupid, so I had to let the whole thing out. Next week, I promise, 250 or less.

Midweek Missed Connections #8

2009-08-27T17:20:00.000-07:00

Did you ever miss being submissive to a true Goddess? - w4w - 23 (at my feet)

If that is the case, and you feel you could truly be on the obedient side, then here is your chance to finally find out how obedient you can be!

It's just one little email away!

-----------------------------------

Marie had read the posting – she couldn't believe it. Exactly what she needed – a woman who would dominate her. She wondered how the “obedient side” would be handled. She hoped with discipline. She waited in the hall at the museum nervously. Their brief email exchange had directed her to be here, now. She was dressed as she was told – no point in getting off on the wrong foot.

A tall woman walked across the large, nearly empty room, stilletto heels clicking in the silence. She was an imposing figure, much taller and better dressed than Marie even though younger.

”You are Marie?”

“Yes”

She frowned.

“Yes Ma'am”

Marie looked down.

“Yes Ma'am”

“You realize that behavior like that will get you spanked, young lady.”

Marie turned beet red. She hadn't expected to be corrected in public.

“Yes Ma'am”

“Well there's no time like the present. Come with me. We'll attend to your rudeness”

She grabbed Marie's elbow and walked her to the ladies room.

“You mean... Now? Here?”

“You did agree to be disciplined as I saw fit didn't you?”

Marie nodded.

The woman pulled a hairbrush from her purse.

“Now”

Desire and fear competed as she bent over. Perhaps she had made a mistake. It was too late to do anything about it.

-------------------------------------

Late - week has continued being chaotic.

Again I found a real CL post that I liked. I had mentally worked out the storyline, and was thinking about how a W4W most would be worded that would fit in. I was floored when this one was the 3rd post when I looked it up a while ago. Good timing, I guess...

MicroFantasy Monday #42

2009-08-25T13:24:00.000-07:00

Fighting

Do not ask of me
What you do not want to hear
Simply accept
That you are the one
I have loved others, yes
But none that stir me
As you do

Our words
Our disagreements
Our great fights
These only say
That close as we are
We're not the same

We come back
Together
Slowly
Mending our hearts
Easing our pain
Back to caring
After a time
Holding each other

So do not question me
And I'll not attack you
With my answers

--------------------------------------

This is late - the last few days have been more chaotic than usual, including. as is perhaps obvious
a silly arguement.

Flash Fiction Friday #17

2009-08-22T23:50:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: Dread

They drove through the sunshine, Lara’s head on his shoulder, admiring the smile on his face.

“That was quite a history lesson, Master”

“Yes, it was interesting. Another time we will visit the halls of the founding fathers”

They passed bronze statues that belonged in museums, weathered men returning with their catch of fish..

“Many citizens of the world looked much like them back then. By the way, what did you and Angaa talk about?”

“Oh, just girl talk, Master”

"Did she discuss rosewater with you?”

Lara jumped. She’d been told that she must keep the secret from men, yet how could she keep a secret from Master? Angaa, how could you do this to me.

She took a breath, decided a little lie wouldn’t hurt.

“No Master. What is that?”

He was quiet for a time.

“Lara, what are the rules for a submissive”

“Master, she must be Respectful”

“Yes…”

“Obedient”

“Yes…”

“Ladylike”

“And…”

“She must be truthful”

“And what if she is not truthful”

“Oh God”, she thought. “He knows. I don’t know how, but he knows.”

“Master your submissive will get a whipping. A severe one”

His voice began low, but it rose in intensity to sound like thunder.

“Did you think I would go to another world as an ambassador without knowing every detail of the people?”

“No Master, but…”

“Did you think I would not know their customs?”

“No Master..”

She started to cry from his voice.

It was a long quiet ride home.

-----------------------------------

Flash Fiction Friday courtesty of @caseydamnmorgan. See her writeup and other participants at

http://www.caseymorgan.org/

1959

2009-08-21T04:37:00.000-07:00

I perch on a stool
In the corner
My leather jacket perfect
For a cool Seattle evening
My beret and my goatee
Establish my committment
My buddy on bongos to my left
And my scrawny girlfriend to my right
Wrapped around me to keep away
The surburban matrons who have come to hear
The new beatnik poet

They file in after the art film has
Raised their consciousness
And bored their husbands
Who just want a good martini
Instead of a tamarind
Or fourteen varieties of tea

I wrap myself around an espresso
As foreign to them
As marijuana
And perhaps as needed
The old fat greek who runs the house
Says a few words of introduction
Pops the lights
And I begin
Holding a blank page
For I know everything I will say
By heart

My paean to love
And unbridled sexual coupling
Elicits gasps
From the men
Because they're hoping
And from the women
Because they're feeling
Down deep inside
The knowledge
That it could be better

Scant months before
(For such is the timescale when you're seventeen)
A mature woman
At least thirty
Had snatched my virginity
Casually teaching me what passion
Was truly about
I never forgot her
Though I never knew her real name

I finish
Breathless
And elicit a small applause
Which I am perfectly willing to take
To my heart.
They finish their drinks
And the tiny little pastries
While I drain my
Supercharged coffee
On the house
That was part of the deal
I kick over my Triumph
While they slip into their Country Squires
The men curious
And the women wet
Hoping that somehow
They will be understood

---------------

My thanks to @thepinkpoppet for a chat session in which she reminded me of this era in my life. Yes, I was really there. Then. I wouldn't have missed it for the world...

Midweek Missed Connections #7

2009-08-19T20:07:00.000-07:00

redhead with haircut i'm jealous of riding a white bike - w4m - 24 (bike trail north of manhattan beach)

I said hi, that's what I do. You said something back that I can't remember but I'm pretty sure it was moderately sexy sounding.

It's possible that you're adorable. Just thought you should know.

----------

Thanks – I thought you were pretty cute yourself. Those were pretty short shorts.

Ohh – you DID notice me.

Will you be there tomorrow?

Every morning at nine

OK – See you.

---------------------------

The next morning they rode together. He let her lead, but she couldn't outrun him, try though she might. On the downhill right after the hilltop the bike got away from her, and she couldn't make it around the corner. Girl and bicycle were tangled in a heap as he gently braked to a stop. He dropped his bike and lifted her off the gound, extracting her from the battered metal. She hadn't realized how strong he was until she saw how effortless it was for him – she wrapped her hand around his arm, surprised at the tight muscles.

She was trying not to cry – silly but it had really hurt when she fell. He carried her over to a bench and sat down with her in his lap. He held her, then lifted her chin so she was looking up into his eyes.

“You better be more careful – I'd hate to lose you after I just found you”

She snuggled up, wondering where this could go.

----------------------------------

Aha - another CL post in the desired venue. Will this madness ever end?

This is a submission for Midweek Missed Connections - for more details see

http://www.caseymorgan.org/2009/08/midweek-missed-connections-7/

Sensual Stories - August 19th

2009-08-19T11:16:00.000-07:00

Night

Night
A long tunnel
Flashing through
Heading back to you
My week is through
The chains broken
That keep me away
For days on end
Golden chains
But chains none the less.

The ranches slip by, unnoticed
Your face in my mind
Your voice in my ears
The memory of softness from years past was
On my fingertips
As if you were here
In the cockpit with me

Life on the road
Has kept us apart
Way too much
Way too long
Way too often
So now
Though I'm coming to you
I miss you terribly.

Hours together
Refreshing memories
Holding you
Looking through
The window to your soul
And hoping you keep me in your heart
Till I come back
And then it is time

Night
A long tunnel
Flashing through
Away
Wiping my eyes
Your face in my mind
Still

-----------------------

These are submitted to the #journalling game.

See http://sensualstories.realaffection.com/?page_id=546 for other people's work.

Microfantasy Monday #41

2009-08-17T13:48:00.000-07:00

Country Girl

Your hands
Are not the soft hands of a model
White hands that caress keyboards
Pampered hands of leisure

Your hands
Have carried babies
Remodeled houses
Planted roses

Your hands
Tanned from building
And golf

Are strong
When you swing a hammer
Lay tile
Cut lumber
Creating something that wasn't there before

Are gentle
When I reach over in the morning
And run my fingers along them
And watch you smile
As you wake

They are beautiful hands
I have loved them all these years

I hope I have many more

Friday Flash Fiction #16

2009-08-14T21:17:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: Retrospection

Jar Gon held her arm as they stood with the ambassador and Angaa waiting for their ride. His status entitled them to military transportation and, as usual, it was late. The day’s beautiful sunlight turned to rain and, once the car arrived, the young crewman held an umbrella to keep them dry, though he himself was showered on. They settled back in the seat, wiping wetness off their shoes onto the carpet.

“I have a surprise for you tomorrow” he whispered in her ear.

She was puzzled.

“What?”

“We have found an ancient archeology site, from the civilization before the civilization before the civilization before ours – we shall tour it”

She smiled inside – Jedi loved to build complicated sentences.

“Yes, Master. I’m sure I shall enjoy it”

She spent the night watching his body rise and fall with his breathing, trying to understand all she had learned today from Angaa. Did all the women of the sisterhood sense how much she loved this man. She wondered just how far sharing went.

The next day they wandered across a ruined city, carved stone alternating with graceful columns, worn cobblestones, walls of brick, the occasional readable inscription.

“This, my dear was Rome – the center of the world thousands of years ago. A power then like ours today”

An inscription on a doorframe caught her eye

“Et Ego in Arcadia Vixi – what does that mean”

He paused, translating

“Thus passes the glory of the world”

She clung to him.

“I hope not ours…”

Midweek Missed Connection #6

2009-08-12T15:43:00.000-07:00

Vivoli Trattoria - w4m (Valencia)

Wish I hadn't been at a business meeting when I saw you at Vivoli today. I could barely concentrate on what I was doing because of your mesmerizing eyes. Not to mention that 1,000 watt smile...

Damn, I wouldn't have been able to concentrate either. What a fox. Looked like a high level bunch of people

--------------

OK – you got me. So what do you do with all those guys?

Marketing. It was a boring offsite lunch to work on a boring new product. What about you?

Freelance photojournalist. Mostly bands and musicians.

Wow – that must be interesting.

Yeah – it pays, sometimes. So want to meet for coffee?

Sure – where?

Coffee Bean – down the street from Vivoli – Tomorrow night.

OK – See you there

--------------

It was crowded and noisy for a casual place. They grinned together through strong black coffee and sticky sugary pastries. He whispered in her ear about maybe coming up to his place, and she had just nodded when his cell went off.

The conversation was terse, and his tension was obvious as he snapped it shut. The smile was gone.

“I – uhh – gotta go. Work”

“OK”

“You know Carlos Baines”

“The lead for Desparate Measures?”

“He just offed himself – I can get there ahead of the cops if I hustle”

He ran and she followed.

“Can I come?”

He shrugged. She jumped into the car. Whatever happened, it would be a long way from her usually boring life.

It was – a very long way.

------------------------

Finally - I got a real CL post that matched the optional venue - yay

MMC courtesty of @caseydamnmorgan. See her writeup at

http://www.caseymorgan.org/2009/08/midweek-missed-connection-6/

MfM #40

2009-08-10T16:56:00.000-07:00

Watching

I watch you slowly remove
You silk lace and leather
Your falling clothes
Make me the voyeur
Who wants what cannot be his

Why do you dance in front of
An unshaded window
Showing me breasts
I long to suck
And moist femininity
I long to enter
Knowing that I am here
Tormenting me

I dream of throwing open your door
Pressing you to the floor
And taking you
Having my pleasure
Until I am sated

I sigh
You are a beautiful woman
and I will have to wait
'Til I am older
Than twelve

FFF #15

2009-08-08T18:17:00.000-07:00

The Jedi's Slave: Awakening

Lara slowly returned to reality.

Angaa asked sharply

“Did you notice anything different?”

Lara thought a minute.

“I felt the strangest thing – I had a sense of… a color almost”

“And what color did you sense”

“Blue, actually”

”Oh thank goodness” Angaa seemed genuinely relieved.

“Your use of Rosewater brought you into a sisterhood which spans eight species. We weren’t sure your mental makeup would allow you to join us”

“What do you mean?”.

“It is similar to the way Jedi exploit the force, but much more gentle and subtle –more suited to a woman. Where a man would clumsily probe your mind, for us that would be an aberration - instead we work on sharing. We share everything. The blue you sensed was the sharing of pleasure”

“Oh – what else is shared”

“If you sensed red, it is the sharing of pain – any pain from a caning to a splinter in your finger. One thing also – you must never reveal our secrets to a male of any species. It is our protection against the cane”

“What else must I learn”

“You will find that you begin to enjoy the touch of a woman as much as a man”

Lara protested – in answer Angaa lifted her up and undressed her, then lay her on the couch. Her hand brushed the side of Lara’s face – then she kissed her. Angaa’s lips, though not human, affected Lara deeply.

“Angaa, I sense a different color – I sense green. What is that?”

“Love”

"Oh"

--------------------------------------

@Aphrodite44 noted that she needed to read the backstory to understand a new episode. Unspoken was the fact that it was hard to extract just those episodes in the blog - but it was true. Accordingly I have indexed all the posts to better allow reviewing The Jedi's Slave sequence as well as the other posts

Midweek Missed Connection #5

2009-08-05T18:43:00.000-07:00

Angels vs. Indians July 29 - w4m - 24 (Anaheim)

Ok so I feel so silly doing this, but my friend told me I had nothing to lose. I saw you at the angels game you sat right below me and we were in section 311. I had short blonde hair and I was wearing a white shirt and a brown sweater. I smiled at you a few times and you smiled back. I wasn't brave enough to try and talk to you, so I know this is a long shot, but if you see this posting I would love to get to know you. I so feel funny posting this!

After a few emails and then texts we agreed to meet at a local coffee shop – amazingly though we had met 50 miles away in Anaheim we both lived in the same town. She was stand-offish at first – seemed afraid to let go and talk. But as the evening continued she relaxed, finally enough to put her hands on my arms. She was truly beautiful, someone I could really enjoy being with.

I walked her home that night – her apartment was a block away from mine, but I had never seen her in the neighborhood. Not that it mattered. As we stopped in front of her apartment I bent down to kiss her goodnight. Her lips were soft and moist, yielding. She trembled a little.

“Would you like to come up and meet my cat?”

“ Sure”

We walked up the stairs together. It was a beautiful evening...

----------------------------

It is indeed intersting to take a real person's post and supply my own ending to it. I wonder how she would feel if she ever stumbled across our stories. I have been tempted to send a link, but never have...

Sensual Stories - August 4 version

2009-08-05T10:47:00.000-07:00

Together

She sat with three girlfriends
Chatting
Ignoring the boys across the room
Where he leaned with his buddies
Watching her smile
Wondering
He strode 'cross the floor
Boots echoing
Hat in his hand
And he asked her to dance

It had been a long morning
Their friends
Family
Had watched while they vowed
To always be there
For each other
They sat at a table
His unaccustomed suit
Next to her new white gown
Listening to toasts
And roasts
Until the music started
And he asked her to dance

Dinner on the table
He had the perfume of cattle
And horses
The baby had cried 'most all day
Their few moments together gone
When the squalling started again
She broke down in tears
He stepped from the room
Returned in a moment
His deep voice quieting the bundle
On his shoulder
He reached for the radio
Turned it up loud
And he asked her to dance

It had been a good year
The ranch had done well
The hands took care of it all
As they stood together on the deck
Half a world away
Watching the moon on the swells
He was used to the tux
And she to her dress
As the music began
The couples all swayed
And he asked her to dance

Saturday night at the Blue Moon Cafe
Is a mixture of beer and snacks
The occasional fight
And lust. Lets not forget lust
As girls stood in groups
And young guys all watched
Coupling together
To the music
Disease had ravaged her body
But her mind was all there
She enjoyed being part of it all
Then the front man announced a favorite song
And the crowds parted
As he wheeled her out on the floor
There were no dry eyes in the room
As he bent over to kiss her forehead
And he asked her to dance

MfM 39

2009-08-03T01:40:00.000-07:00

Goodbye

You swept into my life, little one
A submissive in need of a dominant

We played. Played intensely
I forgot all that was bad in my life
You helped me remember the good I lost

When I met you I was angry
Now I am at peace

When I met you I turned my back on love
Now it is centered

When I met you
I was ready to walk away from my soul mate
Because nothing worked
And I didn't see a path to anything ever working again
Now the way is clear
And I have begun to walk it

You were my pleasure
My joy
And though you may have been the bottom
You taught the top
To remember where true happiness was

You needed the answer to a simple question
How could a woman do that to another woman

You have given happiness to her
Though she will never know you
I will
I will be sad forever
That our time couldn't be
And yet happy
That she and I will grow back together
I hope that is enough
Perhaps that is what true submission is

In the end there was no drama
No ceremony
We just

Disengaged

But I will remember you
I will thank you
And I will think of you

Always

FFF #14

2009-07-31T13:59:00.000-07:00

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

MMC #4

2009-07-29T14:50:00.000-07:00

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...

MfM #38

2009-07-27T12:12:00.000-07:00

Teachers

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
Indeed
Made all the difference

FFF #13

2009-07-25T20:00:00.000-07:00

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”

MMC #3

2009-07-22T10:24:00.000-07:00

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"
"Yeah"
"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"
"Ohhhh..."
"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"
"Ummm"
"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.
-------------------------------------------------
"Hello..."
"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"
"Bye"
"Bye"
-------------------------------------------------------
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

2009-07-22T00:48:00.000-07:00

Dreams

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
lovers
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
Still
White
So real but

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

Forever

-------------------------------------

Submitted to the #journalling game - first crack at this

MFM 37

2009-07-20T13:32:00.000-07:00

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"

"Yeah"

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...

FFF #12

2009-07-18T19:31:00.000-07:00

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.

Missed Connections #2

2009-07-16T21:05:00.000-07:00

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?

Tom

----------------------------------------------

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.

Tom

----------------------------------------------

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

-----------------------------------------------

where?

-----------------------------------------------

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?

-----------------------------------------------

yes

-----------------------------------------------

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.

OK - MfM 36.5

2009-07-14T03:15:00.000-07:00

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.

To:XXX
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

2009-07-14T01:38:00.000-07:00

Espionage

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

Master

------------------------------------------------

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!

FFF #11

2009-07-11T19:17:00.000-07:00

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.

Missed Connections

2009-07-09T14:22:00.000-07:00

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?
Tom
--------------------------------------------------
K
--------------------------------------------------
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.

MFM 35

2009-07-06T18:37:00.000-07:00

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...

FFF #10

2009-07-03T22:52:00.000-07:00

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.

“Eerk”

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.

FFF #9

2009-06-29T10:20:00.000-07:00

Waiting

The wind wrapped the silk around her body, trailing behind with her windblown hair. She stood on the deck with the warm body of his cat curled in her arm, listening to the waves breaking below, the gentle hiss as water slid back over sand to the sea. The starlight lit the waves and she could almost see his boat. It was like this when a storm was coming in. He’d explained why the wind was in her face, later at her back. Something about weather – one of the myriad things he needed to know.

They’d been out – not far, she could still see land – he sat in the corner of the cockpit giving her a turn at the wheel. She’d tried to keep the course, but going back and forth, never quite on it. He didn’t seem to be paying attention. He’d pulled out his knife and cut off a length of a jib sheet – it was never a rope – it was a sheet, a line or a hundred other names sailors had for rope. He’d pulled out a marlinspike and worked one end into a ball – a turk’s head he called it. He reached over and swatted her on the seat of her shorts.

“Ow – that hurt”

She rubbed herself self consciously. He stood behind her, spun her gently around. She looked into his confident blue eyes, smiling as he bent down to kiss her.

“Next time steer where I tell you”

Oh God, please come back.

-------------------------------------------

Sorry ths is late - on weekends where I have back-to-back races it is really hard to make 6 PM Saturday - if I dont get it done very early Friday (~0100) it just wont get done until late Sunday at best.

Originally this was going to have a very different tone, but it was just too long. I wonder about the rest of you guys - do you wind up making several passes at this or is it just me?

Anyway - my thanks to my compadres for keeping this up.

MfM 33

2009-06-22T21:01:00.000-07:00

Together

Lying next to me
Silky skin slipping under my fingertip
Soft brown eyes holding me
Your scent, your hair, the curve of your breasts,
Your body against me
Pleasing me beyond words
Your gentle southern voice
"Daddy - I'm a good girl for you"

Our arms, our bodies entwined
Your lips on mine, full, moist, wanting
I can only surrender to you.
I close my eyes
Sensing your warmth,
My fingers stretch to touch your core
Feeling your moisture,
Your breath quickens
Knowing your arousal
I play you like the beautiful instrument you are

Waiting for the moment you give voice
To the music within.

You lay back
spent
done
complete
the lazy smile, eyes slightly open.
"Ummmmm... Daddy?"

I smile and reach to pull you into my arms again.

FFF #8

2009-06-20T00:49:00.000-07:00

Patrol Afternoon

Impudent would have been my description. She stood there daring me, hands on her hips, ash blond hair in a pony tail, the rose-colored skirt flouncing around her as she twisted her hips back and forth. She looked up at me, eyes sparkling, lips forming a pouty smile. Most girls found me imposing. She acted like I was her plaything.

“What’s the matter, officer. Cat got your tongue?”

She smirked – I swear she smirked.

“You cant make us leave”

There was no us – the other girls had run behind the barricades squealing as soon as I stepped over to them. Sergeant NumbNuts told me to keep the area clear, and it would stay clear.

“Miss, sorry but you’ll have to get behind the fences like everyone else”

You cant make me”

The thought of smacking her with my baton was appealing, but I thought better of it. Sure as hell I’d be on the six o’clock news – “Police brutally beat spectators at concert today”

“For the last time, Miss – move”

“No”

I heard the sirens of the escort. Oh hell – I reached over, picked her up and threw her over my shoulder. I stood holding her while the bikes and limousines passed, then carried her over to the cruiser. The wind kept blowing her skirt in my face. DAMN she smelled nice. I reached up and swatted her butt, then dumped my wife in the back seat and slammed the door. I decided to take the long way to headquarters.

Poetry I stumbled across

2009-06-19T19:45:00.000-07:00

I seldom read something so good it brings tears to my eyes, but I thought these two were that good...

http://www.writingroom.com/viewwriting/Starlingpoet/i-picked-up-your-guitar

http://www.writingroom.com/viewwriting/Starlingpoet/Your-words

Flash Friday Fiction # 8 - Ready Set Go

2009-06-18T15:13:00.000-07:00

Cancel this - casey surprised us all by getting on line from England. Please look at her blog http://www.caseymorgan.org/2009/06/3f-8-is-afoot/ for this week's info.

==========================================================

OK - I'm doing this because casey is enjoying England and presumably off-net.
Write a 250 word story (erotic, tgi-oriented, or whatever) Start anytime Friday, finish by 6pm PDT Saturday. Try to include the keywords (wildcards) below. Post the link to your story in the comments below and/or on Twitter (Microfantasy monday always includes them in the announcement post, and it makes things a little easier since they're all in one place)

Thus far, the usual suspects:
@WorldOfRafi
@vanimp
@thursdays_child
@naughtyabby
@caseydamnmorgan
@spankinresource
@sabrinamorgan
and of course, yours truly, @PapaTomLA

The keywords are

1. Silk (moi)
2. Rope (@vanimp)
3. Sand (@WorldOfRafi)

Thanks to everyone in advance

Microfantasy Monday #32

2009-06-15T14:48:00.000-07:00

Control

On all fours, face low, blistered bottom high,
toothbrush in one small clenched hand, rags in the other,
the meager supplies I've allowed to her right,
kitchen cabinets to her left,
arms moving, muscles burning, face flushed,
damp with the sweat of effort, not the sensous wetness of arousal
cleaning, cleaning, cleaning

One hour of sparking floor behind her, five more of filth to go
face inches from my tiles, searching for any stain, dirt, grime,
twenty minutes ago I pointed one out to her
with my belt.
Now and then a few tears,
but still she keeps it up, heartening me by her obedience
She continues,
cleaning, cleaning, cleaning

For months the lesson stays.
No more sarcastic wit, tantrums.
Not a door slam, raised voice, nasty comment
in all this time
because any time one begins,
All I need do is remind her of
cleaning, cleaning, cleaning

FFF #7

2009-06-13T00:02:00.000-07:00

Desert Racer

One always trains if you want to compete. One trains the body and the mind, for they must work together no matter the exhaustion, the stress, the fear. So I had been. I had to cut down my running to 3 miles a day, because although my cardio and legs were great my upper body needed work. I did curls with Chevy 350 heads, stretch exercises with spring sets, haunted the gym.

After finishing my workout I’d fired off the bike. And I rode. God, I rode. For miles and hours, seeking to hone my skills, flicking several hundred pounds of motorcycle back and forth down skimpy trails through cactus. Hours later I realized I was somewhere I’d never been. I took off my helmet and goggles, wiped the dust. I was getting low on energy drink, and I needed to think through a return. I looked up and realized the sky was darkening.

If you’ve never been in the desert as night falls you cant begin to understand how enchanting it is. I could see the early stars, the bright ones anyway. I refueled, looked for the sky glow that showed where home was. I found it, and it brought a smile to my face. Dinner, I was sure, would be waiting when I got there. I kicked over the big Honda and headed down off the mountain, following the slim beam of light. I felt a contentment I wish I could share with everyone.

----------------------

That truly was my life for a while, and now one of my sons does it as well. And it looks like one of his also - and one of his daughters. The go-fast gene got tucked into us somehow.

What is wild is that a totally different story popped out of my small but active mind on the choice of keywords - I've not written SF ever, though I truly enjoy reading it. I finished it, and started to polish it, but there was no way I could get it under 600 words. I may post it here, or maybe if I get really overconfident send it into Analog. You never know.

Thanks as usual to all my co-writers. I'm tired and (to be honest) a little depressed tonight - hate being by myself on Friday nights.

Microfantasy Monday #31

2009-06-08T02:52:00.000-07:00

My first try at this - this may be too long (its a little over 1000 words) - if it is someone please let me know. This is probably an overreaction to Flash Fiction Friday, which is limited to 250 words and may be considered a challenge similar to writing a haiku...

Conflicted

From the start, from the first email she seemed torn. What it was eluded me, but she wanted, no needed a punishment spanking. She didn’t want to say why at first, but she was definite on how important it was to her. I explained that few girls really needed to go through a true punishment spanking, but her response was that I couldn’t understand. She had heard of me through a friend, and that the friend (I wasn’t sure who) had assured her that I was the guy. I patiently explained the level of pain she was asking for and just how life-changing it could be. She responded that she needed to be taken to that level no matter how much it hurt.

She was different from the usual submissive. She only wanted to see me once, and when I explained that even with experienced girls I never would administer a punishment spanking without having had several sessions together the emails became more desperate. She admitted that she had never been spanked as a child, much less as an adult. She wanted one session to finish everything, just one, and then she would be out of my life. And she absolutely wanted me to promise that there would be no safeword.

There was a flurry of emails back and forth as I explained my policy. I was met by pleading on every turn. Finally - against my better judgment - I relented. If she could make her case in writing I would do what she wanted. But she had to be honest and completely straightforward about why she needed to do this. I wanted it hand-written. Via snail mail rather than email, and I suggested three pages was a good length. What I got two days later was half a handwritten page that shocked me – it took a while to get over my feelings, much less empathize with hers.

She was young, in her early twenties. So had her lover been, the age where everything was so important and so dead serious. Despite their intimacy she had weakened and shared a passionate evening with an old flame. Her lover, when she begged forgiveness, responded in the way young ones sometimes do – the sense of drama overcame intelligence – the answer was to bail out. The cowards way - overdose. She felt guilty, abandoned, even she said sometimes dirty. She needed what I could give.

I struggled with the decision – I felt as uneasy as she. My first wife had cheated on me 25 years ago. Could I even be fair under the circumstances? I never have a problem calling a session if I feel the girl is in over her head – should I even start in the first place? My first inclination was to point her to a good shrink, but considering all the rubbish I’d been fed by the psychiatric community over the years I felt that definitely wasn’t the right answer. Finally I rationalized that she was dead set on doing this – I knew that I could stop things if that was what was needed. God knows who she could have run into had she gone elsewhere. I’d heard enough horror stories from my girls. I set an appointment for Friday at my local Starbucks, with the proviso that if I felt that she couldn’t handle the situation I would call the session. She reluctantly accepted that and promised to meet me.

She was tiny – no more than five foot one. When she saw me (I’m six foot one, two eighty) her eyes widened. She also clearly hadn’t sorted out her feelings yet, because although the smile was painted on there was terror in her eyes. We talked for a long time – I offered condolences, and again tried to get the best feeling for her mental state. After listening to her pour out her heart for an hour she seemed rational enough – just needy.

We went though my rules, and I gave her a safeword anyway. She started to protest, but I insisted. I told her that even if she used it, I wouldn’t necessarily stop, but it did give me an idea as to her ability to continue. I also explained that like it or not I would be checking with her as to how she was feeling. I needed to know that she was breathing (submissives often forget) and still conscious. She laughed nervously. She seemed relieved when I told her that I would accept her – she followed me home and we walked in together.

I’d previously told her that she would have one chance to change her mind. After that she would truly be punished - she shook her head. I sent her into the bathroom to go before we started, and to bring me the spanking brush from the upper right drawer in the vanity. When she came back holding it, it was clear that the heavy wooden implement had rattled her – I thought this was good. It might shorten up the duration of the punishment if nothing else. I planned on stopping as soon as I reasonably could. I had no desire whatever to be brutal – only to meet her needs.

I was hard on her – anything else would have been insulting. She was tougher than I’d expected, but it wasn’t that long before the tears started. I took her to the point where she was losing control - that was as far as I was prepared to go. Afterwards was long, gentle and caring. I held her in my lap like a small child and ran my hands over her skin. Her tiny body shook with deep sobs, murmured words I hardly caught, fresh tears flowing. I let her cling to me as long as she needed. It was a long time.

Much, much later she sat across from me and we continued exploring her feelings. I told her my unvarnished opinion of her lover – sorry but suicide is the ultimate form of selfishness and self absorption, and I didn’t think he deserved her. That brought on more tears (I know the female readers will think it uncaring, but I simply couldn’t hold any other opinion) but later more discussion. Long into the night.

I was truly surprised when I was escorting her to her car – she asked me if she could come back tomorrow night – “just to talk” We’ve been talking five years now. Guess it was the right decision…

FFF #6

2009-06-05T13:18:00.000-07:00

Concrete

So I'm workin' this job up near the golf course. Subbed out from an old buddy of mine. Gave my the plans and everything. Nice piece of change just to put in a patio. Got everything all layed out and the redi-mix truck is pourin' when this broad comes up in a golf cart. Real classy dame, grey linen suit, fancy shoes, the whole bit. She starts in like I gotta stop right now, “Emergency Stop” she calls it

“What the hell for, lady. Are you the homeowner” I figure its a reasonable question

“No, I'm on the architectural review board. You simply can NOT build that mostrosity here”

“Well lady, if you aint the homeowner and you aint a county inspector there aint no way this job is stoppin'”

She's mad. She starts runnin' around the side of the forms pullin' out the layout strings wavin' her arms and yellin' and sayin' she'd stop me. Then she ran into my parts box. Ya know, we all use them, a box of screws and nails and that stuff – about the size of a bread box. So she trips over it and goes face first into the fresh concrete. Laughin' like hell I pull her out, cause you aren't supposed to have that stuff on your skin. I pick her up and hose her off, which makes her even madder. Then she makes a big mistake. She takes a swing at me.

First time I ever spanked a grown woman...
------------------------------------------------

My thanks and congratulations to all my co-writers. Also condolences to spankinresource for losing a family pet - I've had it happen and its always tough

FFF5

2009-05-29T14:10:00.000-07:00

Again

It was a beautiful day, the sun warming her body as she stood on the pit wall. The cars flew by, exhaust and sound trailing as she waited for Jean. Again she tapped the intercom, straining for his voice though he was less than a mile away.

"What's up? Dont see you..."

She looked up, saw oily smoke over the trees.

"Seventeen car. Where are you?"

Although it was twenty years ago she remembered it like yesterday, her name over the PA system, report to the trailer. The sun dimmed, the sky turned to black clouds. She walked, then ran towards the crash truck, the door open, waiting, arms waving frantically.

She'd seen smashed racecars. But it had never been theirs. the parts twisted together looking like so much macaroni. She'd seen twisted bodies too. But not his. She had tensed, then felt the baby jump.

She snapped her head - that was twenty years ago. She made a life for her and her son. She was an accomplished flautist; she worked whenever she wished all over Europe. She still followed racing, dragging her son behind. Still in demand to perform the job she had for Jean, the calm voice over the radio.

"Marcel, where are you. Dont see you..."

Of course, he insisted on folowing his father. Now she waited, just like before.

She heard her name over the PA system, report to the trailer. The sun dimmed, the sky turned to black clouds. She ran.

"No..."

-------------------------------------------

My thanks as usual to my fellow writers - well, they're writers.

@caseydamnmorgan
@naughtyabby
@sabrinamorgan
@spankinresouce
@thursdays_child
@swimnaked

I wanted to do something different from my usual stuff. I may have found a limit to the 250 word idea, though. 20 years in 250 words is probably stretching it too far...

Flash Fiction Friday #4

2009-05-22T00:44:00.000-07:00

The sculpture and the Cane

I watched her as she shaped the formless clay into her thoughts. Another D&D character, I thought, but be damned if I recognized it. She had a huge following of teen-aged boys who crowded what was once my garage, now her studio. Sometimes she seemed to revert to their age - I never knew what to expect. Today, though, she was alone.

“And that is a…?”

I hesitated to guess. She turned up her pert nose to face me.

“Silly – don’t you know?”

It was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“You had one in your old character collection. It’s a hippogriff”

Recollection came flooding back. Except that mine was a two inch tall casting. Her sculpture was well over two feet tall, magnificently detailed. I couldn’t wait to see it in color. But now it was time for something else.

“Time to clean up and come in. The babysitter’s here”

Her demeanor changed instantly – she went from my artist to my submissive. It was a game we’d played before, and I knew she hated it. But still she played. For my pleasure.

Slowly she removed the apron, cleaned her hands, looked up at me with her eyes moist. I led her across the backyard towards the house, where our friend waited.

“What did she bring today?” she asked

“A cane.” That simple. I heard an intake of breath.

I love watching my sweetie take her punishment from another woman. I was looking forward to a long afternoon. She wasn’t.

--------------------------

Thanks to my fellow writers for the inspiration to do this stuff - I've been away from writing for a long time - not since college and that was a long long time ago. @caseydamnmorgan, @naughtyAbby, @SabrinaMorgan, @SpankinResource. And (hopefully) two new members @thursdays_child and @swimnaked.

I don't know who came up with hippogriff - I had to ask casey WTF it was - but it really made this a challenge. I thought of a dozen different plots, from total fantasy with a young girl tending to the hippogriff staked out behind the school (guess which one) to plagarizing some of the 17th century poetry written to the beast. In the end I settled for TTWD as the environment. Thanks for coming up with such a creative keyword.

Role Playing I

2009-05-21T01:10:00.000-07:00

I think of role-playing as a way of bringing pseudo-reality to a session, to make real our spanking fantasies. While many of us are amateur actors & actresses, I think it helps to have a structure to play our fantasies against – it keeps both of us with the same scene in mind. These scenario write-ups were intended for that. These were written a while ago for someone who had specific real life issues (procrastinating, lack of control in spending money, speeding, late for work). They tend to be severe because she wanted a punishment spanking to help her overcome her problems. In our pre-spanking discussion her desire was to have a bottom that was purple and sore for several days, and that kind of drove the way I wrote these. She picked Working Girl Paddling as the one she wanted to try, and we set it up for sometime over the next few nights. I did send her an email on her company account at the appointed hour, which I thought gave a nice sense of presence. When I opened the door for her she was much more nervous than she had been for previous play spankings, but she did carry on. We actually did go through the last few lines at the end pretty much as written before I started the paddling, although obviously she didn’t have to say much.

Everything here is before the actual spanking. The scenarios are intended to take the two of us up to the point where the first swat happens – after that I know how the spanking will proceed, but I don’t think the submissive should. The objective is to take her into a head-space where she can accept the spanking – “Of course I deserve the spanking, considering what I did…” – and enjoy it.

Obviously a spanking done with these as a background can reflect a lower intensity – that’s something you decide on a case-by-case basis. These reflect an adult-adult relationship, in which real punishment for real-life problems was the objective. When the role-playing environment is simulated adult-juvenile or between lovers you wouldn’t want to blister a poor girls bottom like that.

In my world there are two ways to play a role-playing spanking:

1. Use your normal safewords – this is like any other play spanking environment

2. To make it more realistic negotiate how harsh the spanking should be. Staying within those limits, administer the spanking without a safeword. I only recommend this if you have enough history together that you know exactly where she is in terms of her ability to handle the situation.

These are somewhat long, so I decided to break this post into two pieces.

Working Girl Paddling

You have just started a new job, and you are office help. You are just getting to know the girls you work with. You walk into the break room for coffee, and several of them are standing around with expressions of shared misery. You ask what's the matter. They tell you that Lana (you've met her and she seems like a nice person) just "Got It".

You ask what they mean by "Got It" - one of them asks if you remember that one of the forms that you signed when you were hired was a permission slip for corporal punishment. You vaguely remember that it was there, but you signed a lot of forms that day. They all take turns explaining that any female employee who fails to meet performance levels has a choice - she can take a spanking from the boss, or she is considered to have resigned. You breathe in - you mean we have to take a real spanking? Yes - they tell you - we do. And poor Lana is sitting in the ladies room crying her eyes out because she got spanked last night. She can't sit down at her desk without her bottom really hurting.

You wonder what you got yourself into. Lana was spanked because she was late every day for the last 3 weeks. She got "The Mail" - what's that, you ask. They tell you that an email shows up on your computer from the boss. It just gives the address, and to be there after work. You discover that all your new girlfriends have gotten "The Mail" - every girl that works here has been spanked, but some who cant seem to learn have gotten it several times. Sometimes the boss takes a girl across his knee and just uses a hairbrush, but if he is really ticked off at your behavior, he uses either a wooden bathbrush or (shudder) an oak paddle. Lana had a date with the oak paddle. The boss REALLY gets angry about girls coming in late. You start to get butterflies in your tummy - you know you've been late most of the last 3 weeks since you were hired.

Sore bottoms seem to be part of the job here. They tell you the emails normally go out about 1 PM. Part of you thinks this might not be too bad - after all you were spanked as a child. How bad could it be? On the other hand, being paddled with an oak paddle might be pretty bad.

A little later you have to go to the bathroom. In the ladies room Lana is still quietly crying. You go over to comfort her, and ask her how bad was it. She turns around and lifts up her skirt. You gasp as you look at a bottom that is completely purple. No wonder she's crying - it must really hurt.

You go back to your desk. Promptly at one o'clock you hear the computer play its merry little tune telling you that you've got mail. You read it and gasp. It is from me - it only has one line - my apartment address, where to park, and to be there after work.

------------------------------

You park where you've been told and walk up to my door. Taking a deep breath, you knock. I open the door slowly and invite you in. A wooden chair is in the middle of the room, and sitting on the chair is a large oak paddle. You've never been spanked with anything quite like that. It takes every bit of your self control to follow where I point you, lifting your skirt, pulling down your pantyhose, and bending over the chair.

"Young Lady" I begin - "I believe that three full weeks of tardy attendance is a record for new girls who work for me"

"Yes Sir" you manage to say

"Did you see Lana's bare little bottom" I ask?

""Yes Sir" again

"Yours will look just like that - are you ready?"

"Ummmm - I guess so Sir"

The first swat lifts you up on tiptoes - and that is an easy one. It turns out to be a long evening for you...

By the way, this is based (loosely) on something that really happened – a guy running a company back in Iowa regularly spanked his female employees, and none of them would testify against him despite the best efforts of several female organizations…

The next one is based a little more loosely on life – but it’s a neat idea…

Speeding Spanking

It is a warm Los Angeles evening, and you are one happy girl. You have been pestering me to let you drive my BMW and I finally gave in. I tell you to keep it under 90 and you are on your own for tickets - but if you get a ticket you'll get a spanking. You give me that cute little wink of yours and say "Of course Papa Tom" - but you're really planning something else entirely.

The windows are down, the moonroof is open, and the LA freeway system is your private racetrack. You are well over 130 miles an hour, really enjoying the freedom and the feeling and the rush. You come roaring up behind a slow moving car who doesn't move out of the way fast enough for you, and you get a sense of irritation - you honk the horn, hit your high beams, flash around him.

It is mere minutes later that you see the CHP cruiser pull behind you, with its flashers on. You suddenly realize that you're in real trouble - it isn't your car, you were going real fast, but WORST of all - you are going to have to live with the consequences when you get home. Unless you can lie convincingly and hide the ticket. Oh damn. The CHP officer turns out to be a lovely blonde - she smiles at you. You have to listen to a long lecture on speeding and street racing and what a ditz you are, before she asks for your license, registration, and insurance. "And by the way, did your boyfriend tell you that you could go that fast in this"

You're a little bit stunned - you ask how she knew it was your boyfriend’s car without checking the registration. She just laughs - "Tom and I dated for years - I not only used to date him, I was his pit crew when he used to race this car. I know every inch of it. And BOY is he going to be pissed..." You know she's right – if I find out I will really be pissed. And then you WOULD get a spanking. You can just feel it.

She finishes writing the ticket for 95 mph and hands it to you "I'd guess that will be five hundred dollars sweetie - and if I didn't know whose car it was it would be impounded and you'd be in jail. I'm betting he's going to paddle your ass till you can’t sit down. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be there and watch" You know she's right, and you can just feel it.

You drive back to my apartment slowly, park the car, and come inside. I ask you if you enjoyed meeting Juile, my ex. You stare at me and ask me how I knew. I explain that she called me when the dispatch came out, and she took the call to keep me from having my car impounded. Also, she really hoped I'd give you a good spanking. I'm sitting on the chair with the bathbrush in my hand.

You know that when you betray a trust you really deserve a spanking. And you know that you are going to get one. A real punishment spanking, since you really were a bad girl. You bare your bottom and get across my lap, without even being told. You are ready for your first real spanking from me. You're afraid. You know that sitting will be hard tomorrow.

-----------------------------------

This one came about because she DID keep pestering me to drive my car. I told her she could if she wanted to play out this scenario. She took a long time making up her mind…

.

Friday Flash Fiction #3

2009-05-16T17:47:00.000-07:00

This is my entry for todays FFF - my fellow tripple F'rs are @spankinresource, @caseydamnmorgan, @naughtyAbby, and @SabrinaMorgan.

Success

I stepped from the shower, physically clean and mentally drained. You stood there nervously twisting the ring that said for all to see that you were my slave, a replica of the one “O” wore. Your eyes were red from a night and day of crying, some of which I’d heard.

“When you’re dressed I have dinner ready Sir”

You finally had grasped that I was not ambivalent about your service. I expected no less than perfection – failure would be rewarded with my rough leather strap. You’d become quite familiar with it

You led me to the patio, served dinner for us both. Your effort was visible in the selection, the preparation, and the presentation. I smiled at the pillow you sat on. As I finished you sprang to your feet and cleared everything – again I could find no fault whatever. You served me dessert – lemon meringue pie. I hadn’t thought you’d even listened – and brought a small snifter of my favorite cognac, then knelt next to me. Sitting under the beautiful coastal blue sky, a fine meal, a beautiful submissive woman, an excellent cognac, the classical sounds of “In Principio” in the background – I couldn’t be happier. Your gentle voice disrupted my thoughts.

“Sir, are you pleased?” You were again nervously playing with your ring, concern on your face.

I gently tilted your head so I could view your eyes.

“Of course, darling. You have pleased me tonight – very, very much”

Your smile was reward enough for my day.

Friday Flash Fiction #2

2009-05-08T09:05:00.000-07:00

Had to post this early - will be travelling today.

This is the entry for today's FFF - my thanks to @caseydamnmorgan, @spankinresource, and @SabrinaMorgan for the opportunity to be part of this,

Downstairs

She stood on the cold concrete floor, both hands interlocked behind her bottom, nervously twisting back and forth, her eyes fixed on a crack inches from her toes. She was in trouble – disobedience means a spanking.

“How did you get in?”

“I found an old skeleton key in the shed and I wondered what it was for and it locked and unlocked all the old doors upstairs…”

Her voice trembled

“… and it opened the basement door and then I couldn’t get it locked again.”

Now she looked up at me, her eyes moist, tears in her voice. It really tore at my gut.

“There are other things down here besides spanking toys – dangerous things. I just want to keep you safe”

…

She tried to look back at me but the cuffs that held her bent over the table restrained her. Her housedress lifted around her waist, underpanties at her knees, looking like a girl rather than a grown woman. She twisted when she heard the hiss of the belt pulling from my slacks, jumped when I snapped the folded belt. She tried to keep still, quiet – that was her way during punishment – but the pain was too much. Each stroke echoed in the empty basement room, left its mark, forced a cry from her lips. I continued until she learned the lesson.

But I hated it.

…

“Give me the key”

She fumbled for it, then ran up the stairs, thighs flashing, sobs in her wake.

I’ll hold her later tonight.

Why?

2009-05-08T01:41:00.000-07:00

I have never understood why, when a girl realizes that she is really, truly, going to get a spanking, she stands in front of you

and

reaches around behind her to try to cover her bottom with her cute tiny little hands…

Now you and I and she know that her hands aren’t going to make any difference. When you pull her across your knee she’ll be staring at the carpet. You will simply grasp her tiny little wrist in yours and move it out of the way, holding her in place.

And you’ll reach behind you to get the hairbrush.

And then you’ll use it.

As long as you need to.

Vanilla girls always have the same reaction.

It never fails to amaze me.

But then, I have to say I really enjoy it.

Always will

Cause I’m a Dom

The Sweater

2009-05-02T20:19:00.000-07:00

This is a late entry for the 250 word spanking story contest - I couldn't make the deadline so I kind of audited the class (@naughtyabby, @caseydamnmorgan, @SabrinaMorgan, @spankingresource)
------------------------------

You burst in the door excited, happy, puppy at your heels. The little girl in you pouring out the joy of exploring the woods. You danced through the living room clutching your sweater, humming contentedly in the kitchen.

…

I found your sweater in the corner. I noticed a loose thread, torn wool. You’d caught it on a branch, ruined an expensive sweater. You’d asked for it. Pleaded for it - a hundred dollar sweater. I held it out as I walked into the bedroom. You begged me not to punish you.

I walked outside. With 10 acres of trees there was no shortage of switches. The willows were just budding. A willow switch, I thought, a green willow switch would really teach a lesson.

…

As I peeled the switch you asked for a hairbrush spanking instead – you were scared– you hate my hairbrush. Your tiny hands around your ankles, cool evening air on your bare bottom. I began– heard the “swish-thwap”, saw the first tears, the first welt rising.

“One Sir Thank You Sir” you sobbed. Your cries filled the evening. There was no one but you and I to hear them.

…

I walked you, stumbling, to bed, fresh tears streaming. I put you to bed, closed the door, listened to you cry yourself to sleep. Later I slipped in and held you.

…

You woke me to show me your marks, every stroke written in violet across your skin. Wrapping yourself around me you whispered

“Thank you Sir – I deserved it”

A humorous memory

2009-04-23T08:23:00.000-07:00

My first marriage to N. had been over for several years. Before we tied the knot there were playful spankings as a prelude to lovemaking, but somehow as a spouse it migrated into the “you’re sick, you’re crazy, you’re a bad person” anytime I mentioned spanking. Ultimately we parted for a variety of reasons. Being deeply in love I had always overlooked her now obvious faults – for quite some time I blamed myself for everything (don’t we all). But it proved to be emancipating - I was suddenly single in the SF Bay area at the height of the sexual revolution. Also the height of the mainstreaming of BDSM – it went from something no one talked about to ads in the Berkeley Barb. I was like a kid in a candy store – I tried everything (and everyone) I could find.

I also finally got over N. and started actively dating – vanilla then, since the BDSM social world we now know simply didn’t exist. Finally I met S. who was the most real, down to earth person in the world. We just fit together so well - lovemaking became intense, explosive, a depth of feeling I didn’t know existed. As we began to have a serious relationship I pondered how to bring up spanking with the ultimate vanilla… I knew I couldn’t hide it forever, nor did I want to live that way again.

One Saturday morning S. called me and said she’d see me later that afternoon – my ex had called her and said there were some things she had to know about me – terrible things – and they were going to spend some time on girl talk. After she hung up I thought well – that was the end of a beautiful friendship. And my ex would never get an alimony check on time again…

Late in the day S. showed up, and since the conversation began with “We’ve got to talk” I had that sick feeling in my gut that said it was all over. N. had told her that I was a sick, sick puppy, that my love of spanking dominated my life and thoughts, and that I could not be trusted. “So what is all this about.”

Have you ever tried to explain S&M to someone who had no idea? I started with what it meant, how it was practiced, and the wide range of sensations available. I spent a lot of time on the sensual sexual side, how many people found it enhanced lovemaking and intimacy. I showed her the section in The Joy of Sex where it referred to spanking as the Tabasco sauce of sex. It wasn’t for everyone, but between the right people it was great.

I will never forget the next moment – she looked at me with those beautiful hazel eyes and said “Sounds like fun to me – lets try it”

Position is Everything

2009-04-21T01:07:00.000-07:00

(In response to a question from @SpanksSprinkles regarding alternatives to a full on cross for securing a submissive for a heavy corporal session...)

Sorry to take so long to respond - was working very late and as we all know, work is the curse of the spanking classes.

My suggestion is to use a solid wooden chair with a low back – if you’re lucky your dining room chairs will work. Ours didn’t so we have two that are almost identical – one came with a sewing center, the other from a student desk set. I think you could find them at a wood furniture stores with no problem. I don't recommend trying them in the position they'll be used though... Office chairs will work, but they’re not as sturdy - A heavy sub thrashing around can get enough leverage to break a weld on the cheap ones. I don’t recommend normal kitchen chairs as they’re too flexible.

Position the sub behind the chair reaching over the back and grabbing the front legs. With the right chair even short girls (5ft 3 or so) can reach over – if they’re too short you may need to lay down a step or 2 by 4 or something . Have them in heels (not the guys) or (preferred) on tiptoe. Guys should have no problem. While they’re grabbing the legs, cuff their hands to the top of the chair leg, right at the bottom of the seat. I usually put a few wraps around the wrists and the chair legs - that way there is almost no motion available to them. Similarly cuff their ankles to the rear chair legs, only above the rungs so they don’t have any room to roam there either and they cant accidentally (or not so accidentally) get the restraints loose.

BTW if you don’t have real leather cuffs available a quick and cheap alternative is to buy a couple of small dog collars – they fit most adults arms if you tighten them down enough, and they have a quick-release mechanism that I find useful if you need to free a sub and do a little compassionate hugging and tear wiping. Of course, you’ll get a few strange looks when you try them on in the store… A couple of carabiners or double-ended clips from Home Despot, some clothesline, and poof! instant (cheap) bondage kit. Campy, light duty, but appropriate for "advanced domestic discipline"

Next you need a belt that is just a little longer than the subs waist – if they are in the inner belt holes you may be able to use their own belt adjusted to the outer ones – otherwise you may have to buy a longer one. You want it around their waist and passed though the spindles on the back of the chair, and you want to tighten it enough that they cant move at all, but loose enough that they can still breathe OK.

When you’re done the sub is pretty much locked in position. Add panties for a gag; I use a black silk scarf as a blindfold; and earphones (or buds, if you must) with some annoying classical music, and you have a sub ready, willing(?) and anxiously awaiting whatever level of discipline you wish to apply, without having to worry about her/him moving and spoiling your aim. In addition the sub has almost no leverage against the restraints and the chair, is tensing their musles in this position, and is in an extremely vulnerable position if you want to take advantage of it. I’ve used this for caning, paddling, and strapping and it works well for me.

Papa Tom