TheEdwardian
Posts: 23
Joined: 10/5/2005
Status: offline
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Just for your edification, to those that are interested.
This is a blog post I had submitted on October 2nd, 2005 to a BDSM Personals site.
That profile is long since gone, but I am arrogant (  ) enough to think that my writing is just as good the second time...
You are welcome to judge for yourselves.
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October 2, 2005
Since no other "Standard Member" can see this part of my Profile ( other than "Premium Members" ), I thought I would share with my blog viewers my entry for question 5 in the "Scenes and Play Questions" portion of my Profile.
The question was:
"Using the location you chose as the best fantasy setting for a scene, tell us (in detail) about that encounter. Fact or fantasy?"
Here was my response:
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In my fantasy, the best location will be an old, abandoned barn, located in a heavily wooded, remote area of the countryside, far, far from any hint of civilization.
The only way to reach the barn is a long trip down winding, little used dirt roads, weathered with rain ruts and flood-washed gravel patches.
However, the disused barn is not where the scene would take place. The barn has a storm cellar... A large wooden hatch door, laying at a 45 degree angle and heavily padlocked, would guard the steps and entrance to my "Frolic Chamber", filled with a medley of articles and devices for torture and restraint.
In my fantasy, it would be close to midnight,as I back my four-door passanger car up to the storm cellar door, before setting the parking brake, turning the ignition off, and switching off the headlights. In the glow of a full moon, an observer would see no one else in the car.
I would unlock the storm cellar door, and with a loud creak and a solid bang, throw the hatch door open.
Turning back to the car, I would open the trunk, lift a long, struggling "package"roughly over my shoulder, and then descend into the inky blackness of the storm cellar.
The observer would see me emerge from the storm cellar unburdened, to close the car trunk, and carefully look around in the distance for any unwanted attention. Satisfied, I would enter back into the storm cellar stairwell, heaving the hatchway door back across the cellar entrance. With a hollow rattle and clank, an observer could surmise that I was securing the hatchway door from the inside.
In my fantasy, the struggling, animated "package" would be my next 'victim', a voluptuous woman in business attire, securely bound with nylon rope, construction tape, and a black hood taped tightly to her face.
I would have "acquired" my "package" Friday night, just when she was coming home from work. If everything went according to plan, I would have my 'victim' for the entire weekend, and no one would be the wiser...
I would watch for awhile, as my "package" wiggle on the floor of the cellar, vainly struggling against her bonds, cardboard matting (made from refrigerator and appliance packaging) would line the floor beneath, to keep her from getting too dirty...
Then using scissors and single-edge razors, I would methodically, purposely, and slowly slice away every stitch of clothing my 'victim' was wearing, leaving the rope, tape, and hood in place to keep her restrained. If my "package" happen to be wearing garter and hose, I would probably leave those, and her torn panties might be saved for a gag later, but every other article of clothing would be completely shorn away. As I cut each garment away, I would revel in my 'victim's attributes; Her smell, her taste, her texture, her curves, her pleas and moans of protest. My fingers would probe my 'victim's nether regions in the hope of finding some small source of moisture, to betray that her body was finding my minstrations somewhat "stimulating", much against her objections. Once I had my "package" fully de-clothed, then the "Frolic" could begin.
In my fantasy, the weekend would be spent plying my 'victim' with all manner of bondage and restraint, as I satiated my carnal and beastial desires upon her body. If my "package" was reluctant to peform a service for me, then I would tie/restrain her body in an uncomfortable and/or painful position, and let the cords do the work for me. Thirty minutes to an hour tied to a 'horse' device, a piece of sharp edged wood or half-inch rod cleaving her feminine region in twain, would soon have her begging and pleading to perform any service for relief. And if the 'horse' could not move her resolve, a few strokes of the rod or 'cat-o-nine' upon her most sensitive bodily areas (feet, calves, thighs, labia mons, buttocks, stomach, underside of breasts, nipples, shoulders, etc.) would quickly change such resolve into base submission.
In my fantasy, at the end of the weekend, I would return my "package" back to her home, sans clothing, but wearing the same taped black hood, a pair of handcuffs, and a set of leg irons. Instructing my 'victim' that the key to her bonds was on the floor in the next room, and that she should be able to free herself with only thirty to fourty-five minutes worth of struggling, I make my escape, and start making plans for my next 'victim'...
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You may have noticed that I didn't go into much detail on what my "Frolicking" activities would have been with my fantasy victim; I decided to leave that up to the imagination of the reader, and... If I did go into detail, then I would be writing a novel, rather than just answering a question... The whole scenerio is rather reminicent of a story, called "The Capture Chronicles", that I once submitted to the web, back in the '80s...
Well, I hope you enjoyed reading the above, as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)
Next blog... I might go into the history of my particular kink, or I just might ramble on non-sensically some more. Don't know, we'll see.
Ciao,
The Edwardian
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