SirSTRYKER
Posts: 284
Joined: 8/15/2004
Status: offline
|
T/they loved it…so
By Sir Stryker
Standing in the bright California sun, she’s in deep thought, vertically suspended in endless time, on the corner of Hollywood and Vine.
“Damn Him and His fucking collar.”
She could hear these words come from somewhere in her head. Reality escapes her thought, when she wonders who’s speaking. It has been longer than a decade since she’d been permitted to speak, let alone entertain an original thought. This was as she wanted it. This was as He wanted it. This is how it was! Ten years. The time blew by as if only moments.
Ah, fond memories flooded her mind now. They carried her away to a time when she was once suspended in air by a swing of sorts. Actually it was little more than a few chains attached with a piece of leather between them. This small patch of leather served as a seat.
She was, of course, naked. The seat was hooked at an ankle causing her legs to stick out and upwards for balance. It didn’t matter really. That is to say, she certainly wasn’t going to fall to the floor or anything. I mean, her wrists were cuffed and then clipped to links in the chains above her head. She couldn’t fall. But just the angle of it was enough to make one THINK the fall a danger. She loved it!
The Lords and Doms present impaled her on Their cocks of various sizes and shapes at Their leisure. She was little more than a swinging fuck toy. He Himself, even took a turn at her. A rare act in deed. He usually, on the occasion of permitting Others to use His slut, refrained from contact with her until after her bath. I suppose at this party, He just had to have her. And have her He did!
Sliding her slightly forward, He bent and spat on her asshole. Then standing close to her, His long black mushroom shaped cock head was poised at her nether hole. She groaned as He grasp her ankles and swung her slightly forward. Excruciating pain engulfed her, familiar as it was, and she screamed. He loved it!
With half of His massive cock digging into her, breath came to her lungs in spurts. He loved staring down at her. He piercing brown eyes darting through her baby blues. That long flow of golden blonde hair swinging less than an inch from the royal blue carpet on the floor.
He loved the way her supremely shaped and quite large breasts nearly covered her upturned chin, spilling over to encase her lower jaw. The other Men who had taken her were not granted access to this sacred entrance, and were satisfied. Most of Them cared little for the slut actually, and Those who may have knew He’d never give her up, for any price. So if as close to possessing her They could get was fucking the bitch when and if He let Them, so be it. He and she loved it!
The scene in her mind shifted to yet another time T/they shared. He had taken her to Portland, Oregon then. T/they had met with Friends and were taken to a house with many rooms and floors. In the basement was the dungeon.
She was to join her brother and sister slaves who all were only to wear white cotton ponchos which trailed down to the ankle. Each slave was to be barefoot. One by one they were lead down a dark hallway into a huge ballroom. It was poorly lighted.
Inside the ballroom was a walled off area which had a glass roof over it. Above this makeshift chamber were balconies from which the Doms sat and stared down. As five or six slaves were ushered into the chamber, the door closed behind them. They all stood in the submissive posture of having heads bowed, hands clasped behind their backs, legs spread and silent.
The door behind them opens and in walks a hooded large muscular black man of nearly six foot eight inches height. His weight was a whopping 330 pounds. He was a rock from head to toe, and as submissive as a whipped puppy, unbeknownst to the slaves. The slaves, collectively, trembled at his mere presence.
As a Master would point to a slave, this hooded monster would take him or her, usually by the back of the head with a handful of hair, and begin the most horrid and grueling array of punishments and sexual encounters.
His seemingly constant state of hardness afforded him the pleasure of ass fucking, throat diving, and pussy plunging for hours. His use of a cat of nine tails was nothing less than amazing. Someone had taught this one well in its use.
Usually, how this worked was when His slut or sluts came into the chamber, that Dom would point to them. The others would watch this big black punisher do his best to break, or enthrall the slaves. He immensely enjoyed obliging Them!
Just a quickly as the last one, the next image entering her mind was of a party in Queens, New York. As usual she crawled through the front door of the club hurriedly as He yanked on the chain to encourage her. It was on a concrete sidewalk from the curb to the door about six yards. She crawled as her knees bled slightly, and the heels of her hands got all scraped up, not to mention loosing a couple of nails. Here she was, obeying as usual, wearing a mini skirt, no damn panties, a white see through blouse, no bra, full facial makeup, as He demands always, crawling like a half strangled puppy in Queens. It was her total debasement.
Once inside, clothes would matter little anyway. She would be stripped in front of the entire company, she already knew it. She was correct, as within an hour of watching slaves performing various humiliating tricks for their Lords and Ladies pleasure and amusement, it was now her turn.
He’d stood and strolled, using His most supremely confident walk, and climbed the steps of the stage. The audience applauded and cheered Him. Bowing gracefully, as the noise subsided, He stood middle stage and whistled as if for a pet. In fact He was. For as He whistled out from behind the crowd crawled the naked slut, up to the stage. She then crossed the stage and lay humbly at His feet, and began tongue shining His boots. He bowed and the crowd again erupted in applause. He smiled. She licked.
Ordering her to lay flat on her belly, she extended both arms out at the shoulders, spread her lovely white legs, and laid her head to one side. He used a flexible bamboo cane which an off stage servant handed to Him. The first blow landed squarely on the top of her left ass cheek. Audible gasps were heard both from the crowd, and her. Before the lovely red welt could rise, and she had chance to recover, another sharp blow landed directly one half inch below the first. With her belly flush against the hard wood floor of the stage, the only thing left to absorb the blows was her ass itself.
It is truly a work of art and a beauty to behold. I speak now of the art of the cane. He loved using them the most. He would always leave the most interesting and, dare I say, complexly intricate designs on her body. It would not do to just simply beat His bitch, heavens no! He took His time with the cane. He turned her body into canvas and the cane to a brush, and He morphed into a living da Vinci. She took the pain as proof of His possession of her. Each punishing blow on her back, her shoulder blades, her spine, lessened in impact and loosed the floods of her slave pussy.
After enduring intensive labor He finished and lifted the girl up by her wrist. Showing her back to the crowd W/who could clearly see His signature B M X whipped in bright red on white canvas. The initials of Black MasterX. The audience loved T/their endurance and stood, cheered and applauded T/them B/both.
T/they loved it!
But somehow earlier this morning, she’d decided to leave. She’d snuck out of T/their home and had been walking all morning. She hadn’t a clue as to where she was going. She hadn’t packed a suitcase. She had less than two hundred dollars in her purse. She was trying to fill a void in her soul from being away from Him for half a day now.
In the ten years she’d faithfully served Him, never once did she buck at His commands. She’d sucked His cock in public in vanilla bars. He’d ass fucked her on pool tables. She remove His shoes and socks and licked between His toes on command anywhere. She’d learned how to properly toss His salad and even make Him or anyone else watching, seem to think she enjoyed it. She didn’t. She enjoyed making Him happy.
What was the big deal? So He was going to bring another slave into the house! After all it was His right, she argued with herself. He IS the Master after all. Besides He wasn’t removing her collar. He hadn’t dismissed her. And there was absolutely No One she wanted the way she wanted Him. The word had never been spoken between T/them, in all these years, but indeed she loved Him.
What to her seemed like only a moment or two as she stood on this busy corner, was in fact nearly ten minuets. In this time in Hollywood on a sunny day, an attractive woman standing alone attracts attention. She was no exception. Three or four young boys had gathered around near her. She hadn’t noticed. One of them, pretending to be reading the names of the stars on the sidewalk, drew near her.
It was as that time, she came back to herself. Even before the lurking idiot formed his lips to deliver his line, she exclaimed,
“Damn me! Damn me and my heart, but fuck it, I love Him.”
Then, to the sheer amazement of the boy, and, his friends, she turned on her heels, and immediately headed back. She instinctively, and most humbly, headed back to where she knew, no matter what, she belonged.
In her heart, she knew she belonged to Him. If that now means sharing Him to please Him, then it is as it should be. Even deeper in her heart, hid the prayers and hopes He would still think so as well. The end.
Epilogue:
Perhaps in the cards, perhaps in fate, perhaps in the future, perhaps too late; perhaps in the Heavens, perhaps just this once; these be the tones of her prayers. Captors and captives, pleasure or pain, both so attractive, must share it again.
Humbly submitted by,
Sir Stryker 2/8/05
|
T/they loved it...so - 
Profile
New Messages
No New Messages
Hot Topic w/ New Messages
Hot Topic w/o New Messages
Locked w/ New Messages
Locked w/o New Messages
Post New Thread