Sunday, October 31, 2010
Many of you, especially our long time readers, might have noticed that during this month I have posted much more often than she has. This is why. And our blog is not the only thing I'm having to take up the slack on. Housework has always been difficult for my girl, dishes going too long undone, vacuuming left until our every step is like walking on the dirt road in front of our house. Okay, a little exaggeration there, but still, things need doing and who you gonna call? Fucking Ghostbusters do not carry dust busters! So it is left up to me.
I can't say that it is the worst thing in the world, nor it is all that unfamiliar. However, coupled with the slack in the rules and expectations, it grates pretty quickly. Now, I should explain this a little. I do not shut off like a light switch, the world of Master and slave growing dark in these school laden moments. But, given the amount of time and attention that her school work requires, I do have to let some things slide a little. The chores are one of these things, certain rules regarding how she acts and where her attention should be also grow slack. Meal times pushed latter in the day, together time stolen, even quite moments when the child sleeps become more about uninterrupted school assignments then uninterrupted sucking my dick assignments.
What is a Master/Owner supposed to do? Bide my time and plot out all the cruel, nasty little surprises I'll have for her when her time once again becomes solely mine. The necessary and long overdue attitude adjustment that will bring her focus back squarely into the proper slavish realm. The accounting of all the little slips and major rule breaks during this time. Judgment Day.
Oh I get chills just thinking about it (devilish laugh)...
Saturday, October 30, 2010
List my Kinks? You might as well ask a passerby on the street to name all U.S. Presidents in order from first to forty-forth. I have a lot of kinks, and it is always hard from me to come up with ranking lists.
But... Here goes.
Slavery - owning a human being in every way is a turn on like no other. It is incomparable with owning any other type of creature. Seeing a collar around the neck of a slave is an immediate turn on for me. Especially the heavier, thicker, or more restricting. A heavy metal collar locked inescapably around a slender neck is unbelievably hot!
Control - every aspect of a slave's life. Some micromanaging, controlling privileges, restricting movement, restricting diet, restricting phone use, etc.
Bondage - the total, complete, partial, or suggested restraining of a person by just about any means is a huge turn on. The more secure or severe the better for me. Thick metal locking cuffs, antique manacles, chains, and modern prisoner cuffs are among my favorites, though I have a soft spot for rope, shibari, leather straps, etc.
Confinement - the holding of a slave for any length of time in small, cramped, locked places. I love cages, cells (prison bars or concrete hole in the ground), hot boxes, and I like trunks, closets, bitch cabinets (thank you Kaya), etc. Having a kept slave is wonderful, letting them out only when you have some use for them.
Breath Play - I am a HUGE fan of breath play. I love noose play, few things compare to the effect that the sight of a knotted rope, a slightly turned head, and a red, desperate face has on me. I also love bagging, strangling, garrote, choking, suffocation, HOM, etc.
Predicament - I love situations where the slave is more likely to be a detriment to themselves than I would be. This situation can take many many forms, wooden ponies, various bondage positions, etc. I especially like this when there are two or more slaves together, having them work against the other to avoid suffering. Shared crotch ropes, scales type noose play, re-breathing, etc. are some examples of this.
Sex - in all of its various forms. Blowjobs (sensual, throat fucking, forced, gagging, messy, tender), sexual positions (practical, Kama Sutra), rough sex, sweet sex, forced sex, bound to the bed, bound in a ball, prisoner rape, so so so many. I love making her work to satisfy me. Recently she discovered that she loves the reverse cowgirl position, or so she proclaimed with each screeching orgasm until she passed out and fell to the bed.
Waterplay - Dunking, full submersion, water boarding, held under, wet cloth over face, spray, hosed down, bound in a pool, caged in a pool, etc. I love to watch her struggle, trying vainly to hold herself above the water line as it rises to fill her nostrils and flood her mouth. I love the panic in her movements as her air runs out. Kink.com's WaterBondage was one of my favorites, especially the dunk tank they would fill slowly while the girl was bound inside. HOT!!!
Animal Play - Puppy play, some kitty play, pony play (which I haven't been able to do much of, I want a rickshaw). Hearing her beg like a dog, whining and pawing the air. I love to hear her whinny like a pony. I love to watch her eat scraps from my plate on the floor or drink from her dog dish. I love to watch her pant, tongue out.
Service - Forced labor, house chores, maid play, bound chores, chained chores, scrubbing the floor with a tooth brush kind of menial work.
Public - public sex, public domination, walking the bitch on a leash in public, public bondage, public exposure, etc.
Training - I love to train my slave to better suit my interests, to alter her speech or the way she moves, how she thinks and does certain things. I get a kick out of the times when I can see her in public having to stop herself from doing it my way and instead doing it the way that is more publicly acceptable. When she slips "Sir" or "Master" into a conversation around family or in public. I love molding her into the slave, beast that I want her to be.
There are some of my top kinks, I'm sure that I missed a few and underplayed others. Regardless, another day down, 28 to go. Thanks for reading...
Monday, October 25, 2010
My kinky self? I am a dominant man. A sadistic, controlling, cruel man. Or at least I like to think so. I am interested in many aspects of BDSM, the fetishes, the control, ownership of a sex slave, the dehumanizing and humiliation that comes with owning a slave. I live a 24/7 O/p lifestyle with my girl jenpet, who has been my collared slave for over ten years now. We've spent the entirety of our adult lives invested in our lifestyle and there have been many changes and challenges along the way.
In our lives, I possess her utterly and relish the control I have over her life and body. I am bit of a micro-manager, controlling her privileges and setting her boundaries. My view of her slides between a kept slave and a house pet. I like to make her work, performing labor and house hold chores (albeit when we have the time, damn busy schedules) while other times I like to let her curl up on the couch and lay her head in my lap.
Our lives underwent an immense change with the birth of our child. Gone were the days of my naked slave wearing only a collar and a smile, curled up on the floor or doing chores (a bit of self delusion there but I'm sticking with it). Though our wild nights and play opportunities have dried up significantly, a situation we are both suffering through, it has provided something unexpected and wonderful. Subtlety. I feel that our relationship has become deeper and more ingrained in every aspect of our lives as a result. Something that I'm sure will benefit us greatly when the river of opportunities for play starts flowing again.
We are kinky bloggers, and share our unique perspectives through our blog. We are also FetLife members and through that we are able to maintain some level of contact with the BDSM community. I enjoy sharing my life and my views with like minded kinksters.
I love my lifestyle and my slave and I could not imagine living life any other way.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Please join in, comment up, and even if you just say "hi", post a comment and let me know that your keyboards are as functional as your mouse buttons;). Happy LOL Day!...
Also, thanks to all of our readers and great followers for keeping us in your thoughts. It is always a pleasure to know that we are truly a part of this great community. Please enjoy...
It was good to be home. The tall, oppressive black gates parted for her like a great beast eager to swallow her whole. The driver pulled the car forward slowly, following the winding drive to the House. She watched as the gates closed behind them, sealing her in. She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly feeling more at peace, feeling confined.
The car made its way down the drive, finally pulling to a stop in front of House Obsidian. A footman opened the door, kneeling to offer her a helping hand. She waved him off, climbing out of the car with ease. He instead attended to the luggage, pulling the two bags from the opened trunk.
“That one goes straight to the armory,” she said pointing to the heavier of the two.
“Yes ma'am,” the footman said, “and the other?”
“To the laundry,” she said walking away.
The door attendant greeted her with a simple smile and a nod, opening the door for her. She nodded her thanks and slipped inside.
The foyer was cavernous and lush with vibrant plants. Ornate fountains teeming with glimmering fish flowed freely through the display, its own little ecosystem. A world within a world.
“Ah, Autumn, welcome home!” a glad voice called out. Humphrey, the head butler came to greet her, his hands outstretched. She smiled and offered her hands in return. He took them with a warm squeeze.
“So good to have you back, my dear.”
“Thank you, Humphrey. Its lovely to see you too.”
She always had a soft spot for him, he reminded her of her father. Though such attachments were usually removed during the training process, they sometimes remained. His bright smile and familiar British accent were always welcoming.
“So,” he said, turning to lead her toward the main stairs. “How did your latest assignment turn out?”
“Satisfyingly successful. How have things been here while I was away?”
“The usual, too frequent Council visits, mystery, intrigue, mayhem.”
“So, its been an easy weekend then?”
They shared a quiet laugh together.
“Are you hungry, my dear? I could have something sent up from the kitchens.”
“No, thank you. I'm just glad to be back.”
“I'm sure,” he said with a knowing smile. “Well, if you change your mind, do let me know.”
“Well then, he's waiting for you in his suite.”
She reached over and gave him a peck on his cheek. “Thank you, Humphrey.”
He nodded and turned to go about his duties. She took a deep breath and continued up the stairs.
Even after all these years, returning to him still gave her goosebumps. A rush of excitement ran down her spine as she turned down the hall, the great doors to his suite just at the end. Her pulse picked up and she felt her breath quicken. She felt a slight draft flow over her, tingling the tiny hairs on her arms. Her whole being felt alive, like awakening from a dark dream to find one's self wrapped in warm blankets.
Reaching the end of the hall, she halted. Before her stood imposing twin doors carved with an ornate relief depicting the ancient history of House Obsidian. The work was immaculate, meticulous in its detail, and beautiful to behold. Such a history, a history she was honored to be a part of. She reached a tentative hand out to knock on the frame of the door and froze like so many times before. She was almost scared to break the silence that surrounded her, calling his attention sharply to her. Even if his attention is exactly what she wanted. Summoning the will within her, she rapt three times, awaiting his word to enter.
“Come,” his muffled voice called through the thick, ornate wooden doors. She took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. There he stood, examining several papers spread neatly upon his desk. He stood with perfect posture, his baring proud but not prideful. His appearance was elegant, yet simple compared to the extravagant opulence of other Heads of House. Graying hair kept short and in
check, his face was clean shaven, his finger nails trimmed short with not a speck of dirt beneath them. A simple elegance marked by meticulous attention to detail, the very definition of him. She thrilled at the sight of him.
Entering without a word, she closed the doors behind her. She reached up and released the hair clip, letting her wavy auburn hair tumble around her shoulders. Then, with a practiced ease, she pulled the long, black dress she had been wearing down her body. Stepping out of it and quickly and neatly folding the dress, she layed it on the floor. She then dropped to her knees folding her legs beneath her, back straight, head up, eyes down, and arms crossed behind her back. The position of a slave in waiting.
He said nothing, looking over what was on his desk. Autumn remained still and silent, waiting to be acknowledged before speaking. Several long minutes later, he tapped the table with his pointed finger and walked over to an ornate armoire. From its shelves he retrieved something she had been longing for for days. He paced slowly over to her, standing agonizingly close yet far away. He reached a hand out in front of her face and she eagerly placed her chin in his grasp. His warm touch melted her heart, a heart kept cold by the necessity of her tasks. But under his touch, she was putty. She kissed his hand eagerly and he smiled.
He held the sleek polished metal collar before her face and she eagerly kissed it. Finally she thought lifting her chin to offer her throat. It slipped around her neck like the long awaited touch of an absent lover, caressing her in its inescapable grip. The metal click of the unbreakable lock resounded in her ears. A sound that meant she was kept, that she was his property once more. Nothing but an object, thoughtless and meaningless. Dedicated to serving him, subject to his every whim. Sealed into her place as his.
“Welcome home... my slave,” he said warmly. Autumn fell to the floor, kissing his feet in gratitude and adoration, over come by the rush of emotion that always accompanied a homecoming. She loathed each assignment, the objectives that would take her away from him, removing her from her coveted collar.
“Thank you, Master!” she said again and again.
“Up, girl,” he instructed, motioning with his hand as one would with a dog. She sat up, resting on her heels, her arms crossing behind her back once more. Autumn gazed up at him with bright, sea green eyes, full of longing and desire. Her heart fluttered just being at his feet again. The dominance he exuded simply standing over her sent chills down her spine. She had missed him, his power over her. She couldn't help but smile.
“That's my girl.” He stepped closer, placing his hand on the back of her head and pulling her against his leg in a tender embrace. She nuzzled his thigh with the side of her face, grateful for his touch, the warmth of his body.
His fingers wrapped around a handful of her hair and he pulled her forward. “Come girl,” he said with a gentle tug. She fell onto all fours and lithely crawled to follow, her pace quick yet graceful. Her round, ample breasts swayed with each movement as he led her through his suite to the Master bedroom.
A great four poster bed dominated the center of the large room. As ornate and carefully carved as the doors, its massive headboard depicted a wild orgy of old. Dozens of slaves being used in ways she was intimately familiar with. Its thick posts, to which she had spent many upon many hours chained, were carved into four identical, voluptuous women. Their arms stretched over head as if, like Atlas, they had been instructed to hold up the world. The canopy of deep red sheers draped over the sides, tied back to the posts with satin straps.
He brought her to the foot of the bed and released her hair, leaving her to remain still. Autumn resumed a kneeling posture, her composed exterior belied the excitement that gripped her. Her eyes remained downcast as she had been trained despite her powerful desire to watch every move he made. Cabinets opened and chains rattled as her Master retrieved the implements he intended to use on her. Sounds she knew only too well. Metal cuffs, thick and secure, hungry for her wrists. The clack of the wooden paddle against the cabinet door as he pulled it from its hook. A simple evening in it would seem.
He returned to her then, tossing his chosen items on the bed. Slipping a hand under her chin, he lifted her face to look at him.
“You've been a good girl, Autumn.”
Her heart swelled. “Thank you, Master!” she beamed.
He smiled back at her with a warmth in his heart that showed in his eyes. His fingers traced a line around her face, stopping to push a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. She turned her face into the caress, hungry for his touch. His hand then moved to her collar. Slipping a finger through the ring, he pulled her around to the side of the bed. A slight gesture conveyed his desire for her to undress him, a command she eagerly obeyed.
Autumn reached up, her hands gently caressing his thighs. Nimble fingers dancing over the smooth fabric of his pants, lingering for a long moment over the growing bulge. She loosened the belt, inwardly relishing the sound of the supple leather sliding through the metal buckle. Then she opened his pants, delighting in the sight of his cock rising up to meet her. A hint of his musk tickled her nose and her mouth watered in anticipation. His pants slid easily down his legs to pile at his feet.
She looked up at him with longing. “Master, may I pleasure you?”
His smile broadened. “You may, slave.”
She was gripped by an eager desire to gobble his cock down the back of her throat but the years of intense training easily took over. Teasingly, she breathed a hot breath over his head, her eyes locking with his. Her hands slid up his legs, gently caressing as she kissed the tip. He looked down at her, watching her every subtle movement.
She licked up and down each side of his shaft, tonguing his testis softly. The smell of his musk drove her desire, quickening her breathing and heart. Her teasing touch became more primal as she brought his cock into her mouth. Sucking lips locked around him, sliding up and down while her tongue swirled around his tip.
The effect it was having on him became apparent as his hips began pumping and his eyes rolled back behind closed eyelids. His stoic exterior began melting, revealing the sexual hunger buried beneath. His hand moved behind her head, his fingers wrapping within her hair and pulling her down on him. Autumn happily gave over to his direction, crossing her arms behind her.
Her Master gladly had his way with her, at times slamming his cock into the back of her throat forcing gagging noises and a few tears. She threw herself into her service, eager to take anything he forced upon her. Her arms tucked submissively behind her back, unmoving even when he choked her with is cock.
Autumn felt his body begin to tense and she hungrily readied herself for him to explode into her throat. Suddenly, he hauled her onto her feet by her hair, his free hand gripping her throat. He squeezed, stealing her breath, pulling her up onto her toes. She gasped, her hands thrown out to the sides as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. Head buzzing, she felt herself starting to slip into that black abyss when her Master threw her face down on the bed. She sucked in air, unable to keep a smile from her gasping mouth.
He was on her in an heartbeat, straddling her legs with a strong arm pressing on the center of her back keeping her face buried in the covers while he wrested her arms with the other. In moments, the thick metal shackles were locked around her wrists. He moved up her body to sit squarely upon her back, further pinning her and forcing the breath out of her chest. Autumn groaned beneath him, relishing the heat of his flesh. Her hips ground into the mattress.
Pulling her arms out in front of her, he chained her to the bed posts. Thus secured, he rolled off of her back and onto the floor beside the bed. She tugged at her restraints, comforted by their unrelenting grip and metallic rattle. Even the cold bite of the metal edge against her wrist was strangely soothing.
The sound of the wooden paddle slapping against her Master's palm grabbed her attention and she turned to look up at him over her shoulder. He gazed down at her with a cruel smile, the paddle clutched in his hand. He said nothing, just reached back and brought it down on her ass with a resounding clap. She tensed, moaning as the sharp sting burned deeper into her flesh. She let out a long breath a moment before sucking in more air as the second strike hit.
He continued to paddle her, giving her just enough time between strikes for her to cry out. Tears welled up in her eyes as blood rushed to her quivering, burning cheeks.
“Thank you, Master!” she cried out.
Apparently satisfied with the color of her ass and the tears soaking into the bed, he tossed the paddle to the side and climbed back into the bed. She felt him move up between her legs, his hands slapping each side of her ass, eliciting a squeal from her. Then he gripped her hips, pulling her butt up off the bed and forcing her onto her knees.
“You want this, slave?”
“Oh yes, Master! Please fuck your girl!”
“Greedy little cunt?”
“Yes Master,” she said, a sly smile spreading across her face.
He slapped her ass again and she squealed.
Autumn eagerly began pleading.
“Please Master! Your greedy cunt begs to be fucked and used Master. Please let this bitch pleasure you!”
She couldn't turn to look at him, but she could clearly see the look on his face in her mind. A cross between lust and amusement. She could feel the head of his cock poised against her lips, rimmed with white moisture. He let her debase herself for a while longer before granting her heartfelt pleas. With one smooth motion, he entered her all the way to the hilt. She groaned, grinding her hips against him. Oh how she missed this, being completely and simply his. His grip tightened on her waist and she knew he had missed her as well.
Autumn craved this, these quiet times behind locked doors. They could truly be them selves, not the Head of House or an operative. Just a man and his slave, all the pretense and politics of the Society's world locked out. In these private moments her Master lowered his guard, that carefully cultivated quiet composure that made him such an effective leader, allowing the lustful, sadistic hedonist to show through.
He dragged his fingernails down her back, scratching long red trails over her flesh. She purred, feeling goosebumps spread over her skin. An exquisite pain; a sign of his desire and caring. He began to work within her then, slow and steady at first. She moaned, reveling in the sensation of being filled by him, of being used to please him.
It was obvious by his pace that he was in no hurry to see the night end and she was grateful. Her own desire began to well up inside, a hot pressure in her loins. He must have sensed her growing need because his hands clamped down on her hips, his nails digging into her. She groaned, suddenly thrust almost beyond the edge. However, she wasn't allowed to fall off into that inviting sea of bliss without his permission and she was not going to disappoint him.
“Oh god! Please Master, I beg you! Let me cum, please!” she screamed into the mattress, her voice thick with desperation.
“Really?” he asked with an aggravating calmness.
“Please Master!” she cried, her body shuddering with the effort to hold back.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“To please you, Master!” she blurted. “Only to please you!”
He said nothing for a long moment, dragging out her agony of teetering on the edge of exploding into a shuddering, screaming mass. Autumn whined like a dog, begging wordlessly because she was beyond words. Exactly where she wanted to be.
Finally, either taking pity on the poor girl or just interested in watching her erupt, he gave her permission. Erupt she did, lost in a tidal wave of blinding pleasure. He drove her hard, leaving her gasping and struggling against the chains. Finally she collapsed in a sweaty pile, sucking air.
“Thank you, Master!” she gasped.
“You're welcome, girl.”
He took her again and again, screaming into the wee hours of the night. She didn't have a clue how many times she came, shuddering on the end of his cock. In the end, they collapsed together in a puddle of sweat and sweet secretions gasping and laughing. He rolled onto his side and stared at her, hair matted to her face hiding the blissful smile playing on her lips beneath.
“Such a beautiful girl,” he said softly.
“Thank you, beautiful Master,” she responded with a chuckle.
He raised his eyebrow. “Really? Well, just don't tell anyone.”
Autumn laughed. She rolled onto her side as best she could, still bound to the bed as she was.
“I am so grateful Master...”
“For?” he asked, his tone sincere.
“Everything,” she said with a tear in the corner of her eye. “I am grateful for everything, Master.”
He smiled softly, reaching a hand out to brush a wet strand of hair from her face.
“My darling girl.”
She felt the tears welling up, a rush of emotion she often buried deep down because of her position. Stoicism, the curse of propriety she thought. It was only in these moments, naked in every way, that she was truly free. Freedom found in the chains of her owner, a concept only those who have experienced it could truly understand.
Her Master reached out and pulled her close, holding her against his body. Heaven, she thought. She snuggled up to him as best she could, nuzzling her head in his chest. The sound of his heart beating soothed her, as did the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Together, they fell into a peaceful slumber.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The stage was set. A Council sponsored party at an extravagant European mansion. Elegant trappings of art and culture adorned the yellow warm walls. Expensive champagne and the finest wines flowed freely down the wine glass pyramids at the buffet table. Scantly clad servants rushed about demurely, ensuring that every last detail was attended to as the guests began to arrive. Footmen greeted the guests, exquisitely dressed Diva's and dashing gentlemen from every corner of the planet, offering their hands from bended knee.
She watched them through a window, eager to join in the festivities. Tonight's guest list represented some of the most wealthy and influential individuals in not only the Society, but the world. So much power and wealth in one place, it was like something out of fantasy. Yet here they all were, availing themselves to the carnal pleasures the Society provided. Gorgeous slaves of both genders attending to every need, every whim. It was enough to get a girl's heart beating.
However, she wasn't here for fun and games. She had a job to do. Taking another slow sip of her wine, she continued to watch for her target. So many people, so many rich people. It was incredible to think that Society had managed to remain hidden from the outside world. She supposed that was part of why she was here.
Outside, another vehicle pulled to a stop, one she had seen before in surveillance photos. A lavish sporty number, slick wheels, custom paint. He was here. She watched as the car door opened. He was handsome, hair graying around the ears, clean shaven, strong jaw. Glossy shoes, pressed suit, a gaudy watch so large she could see it from where she stood. He was showing off.
As he walked to the doors, she made her way down a grand set of stairs to the main room. The festivity's favors were in place, female slaves locked into frames, exposing their charms to frequent use. This was a game like a virtual pony race, whoever can bring their filly to a screaming climax first wins. A popular favorite, she remembered with a smile. There were other games of course, many others. Such a gala event, the Council pulled out all the stops.
She caught sight of her prey making his way through the welcoming committee. No badges or name tags here, only those that belong marked by a single signet ring, a House ring. A House ring or a House collar. She fingered the ring on her own hand. The bursting star on its face marked her as a member of House Scion. She resisted the urge to twist the unfamiliar hunk of metal. There was only one piece of jewelry she was allowed to wear and she longed to feel it locked about her neck again.
He was on the move, passed the entry way and straight to the pyramids of champagne. In a celebratory mood? Draining what was left of her own wine, she made her way through the growing crowd toward the table. Like a predator stalking its prey through a forest of people, hidden yet in plain sight. He plucked a glass from the stack and downed half of it right off.
Good, she thought, he's looking to enjoy himself. That will make her job easier. She stepped up near him and pulled at a glass, knocking two off the pyramid. They tumbled down the side, spilling their contents into the other glasses before crashing to the floor. The structure shook, but remained intact.
“Oh my gosh!” she squealed, a hand over her mouth. He turned to see what had happened and for an instant when his eyes fell on her, he froze. A simple pause that to the untrained eye would have barely registered. She, however, knew she had him. Quickly she bent down to reach for the broken glass.
“Hey, careful,” he said, smoothly setting his own glass down and snatching her hands gently in his. “We can't have hands as lovely as yours being cut up by broken glass.” He smiled broadly as he stood up.
“Oh, but...” she said, looking back at the mess.
“We have people for that.” He snapped his fingers and in an instant a servant arrived to sweep up the debris.
“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes and smiling at herself. “I'm...”
“New?” he interjected. His interest was piqued.
“Not at all. I'm Kyle Porter of House Phoenix.” Of course you are.
“Melanie. Oh of House Scion.”
Kyle took her hand in a gentle grip. “A pleasure. Here, let me get you another one.” He reached over and expertly plucked a glass from the pyramid and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” she said with a bright smile.
He retrieved his own from the table and held it out for a toast. “To new friends.”
She tapped his glass with hers and took a drink. He took a small drought. Savoring it now, eh?
“So, how long have you been with House Scion?”
“Oh not long, I just finished my initiation this week. Actually, the Head of House insisted that I attend this party as the last part of my initiation. So really I'll be a full member at the end of tonight.”
“Well, congratulations and welcome to the Society!”
“Thank you.” She took another drink. “So how long have you been with House Phoenix?”
“Oh about five years now, I'm well on my way to being named a House leader,” he said with an ever so slight broadening of his chest.
Fucking liar, you've only been a member for two years and you're no where near to a House leadership role. Far from it.
“That's really impressive, congratulations to you.”
“Thank you, I don't like to brag.” Right... “So, this is your first function?”
“Yes. I mean I've heard about these from my mentor before. They always sounded so glamorous and wild but I'd never dreamed it was like this! Some of the things they have in the parlor are crazy!”
“Well, since this is your first time then I shall escort you.”
“Oh, you don't...”
“No, no, I insist.” He held his elbow out to her.
She smiled, “Well, if you insist.” Gotcha.
He showed her around, being careful to steer clear of some of the more intense areas she noticed. No need to scare the newbies off. The Society held to the ideologies of slavery from the ancient times, a slave was chattel and required no more consideration than a member of the Society was willing to give. The human rights of the outside world held no sway here. By the end of the night it was highly likely that at least a dozen slaves would die. Such was the way of the Society.
She noticed that he lead her passed the races twice, placing wagers on which of the ponies would cum in first. A game fraught with puns. She enjoyed watching though, knowing what the girls were going through.
Locked in a plastic shell molded to look suspiciously like quarter horses found outside of grocery stores, ass and cunt splayed aching for and from use, mouths clamped open for easy breathing, moaning, and the final cleanup. The taste of their own juices mixed with donations of semen from the riders, dripping long strings of saliva to the floor. Their faces hidden, just an anonymous piece of meat to fuck. No thoughts, just the raw purity of being. A creature to be used, breathing, moaning, cumming.
“Alright!” Kyle shouted as his pick came in, startling her from her thoughts. She was getting distracted. That was dangerous.
“Excellent choice, Kyle!” she exclaimed.
“I can always tell which one is the one.” So can I.
“Well, that has put me in a great mood. What do you say we go and celebrate?”
“I don't know...”
“Oh, come on. Live a little.”
“Okay!” he took her by the hand and lead her to the expansive bar. It was time to get liquored up.
They shared a few rounds, getting progressively stronger with each. She knew how to drink without loosing control, so she played along. She was fully aware that he had stopped drinking long before he insisted upon going upstairs to the private rooms, his charming smile absent from his now serious face. It was time.
He led her by the arm upstairs, his grip getting tighter as they approached an empty room. She played the part, drunk little new girl slowly growing worried too late to save herself.
“Hey, you're hurting... hurting me!” she protested as he threw her into the room. He closed the door behind him, locking it securely.
“Well, well, well. Look what I have here,” he said, walking slowly, menacingly toward her.
“Kyle,” she said with a nervous laugh.
“A little, lost whore. A sheep in wolf's clothing.” He snatched her arm again, twisting it.
“Ow! You're hurting my arm! Kyle stop!” she cried.
“Oh, demanding now, are we, bitch?” He twisted her arm behind her, spinning her around.
“Ow! Please!” she screamed. Come on, fucker! Is that the best you have?
“That's right, beg. Beg like a little slut. That's all you bitches are.” He reached down with his free hand and tugged the Scion ring from her finger, holding it up before them both. “They may let you walk on your hind legs, pretend to belong on top with the men. But in reality, you're all just cunts to fuck.”
Dropping the ring, he spun her around and back handed her across the face, flinging her face first down onto the bed. That's right, you like to rough them up. Makes you feel superior. Too bad you didn't just stick with beating slaves. Too bad for you.
He was on her then sitting on her legs, pinning her to the bed as he tore at her dress. She squealed and cried, putting up a token resistance as he worked. She waited for him to turn her over. He liked to rape them while they were looking up at him, so he could see their tears, their degradation. So he could see that moment when they broke inside, the line between Mistress of a House to common bitch vanishing. That is what he was after.
Before he flopped her onto her back though he wailed on her ass, laying several harsh swats to redden her cheeks. A spanking meant to further humiliate and blur the lines. She was actually a little personally offended. Her ass reddening, he finally flipped her over.
“Please!” she sobbed.
“That's right, beg for it bitch.” He began tearing at his clothes, freeing his bulging prick. “You know you want it.”
Her cries turned then from fearful sobbing to uproarious laughter. The sudden shift shocked him and he straightened up in confusion.
“What the fuck? What the fuck are you laughing at, bitch?” he shouted, enraged and humiliated.
She continued to laugh, unable to keep her true feelings of just how pathetic she thought he was back any longer.
“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed, hauling back with a big fist.
Swiftly, she snapped her heel out, stabbing her five inch stiletto into his solar plexus. Air erupted out of him in one big grunt and he fell to his knees, gasping. She slid gracefully to the edge of the bed, each movement like that of a tiger readying for the pounce. Kyle reached a shaky hand out for her but she deftly snatched and twisted it around, planting him face first on the floorboards in an instant. His face made a satisfying thud against the hard wood planks.
She buried one heel into his back, pinning him to the floor.
“Now then, Kyle,” she said, her words smooth and calm, “you've been a very naughty boy!”
“Who the fuck are you?” he shouted, his words muddled.
She clamped down on his twisted wrist, eliciting squeals of pain from her would be rapist.
“Don't interrupt, Kyle. Its rude.”
“Okay, okay!” he grunted.
“Say you're sorry.”
“Fuck you, bitch!” he screamed.
She clamped down again, “Say you're sorry!”
“Alright, alright! I'm sorry!”
“Good boy! Now as I was saying. You've been very naughty, Kyle. You've broken the rules and openly attacked members of other Houses. That was very bad.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Really? Denial? Shall I refresh your memory?” she asked, grinding her heel into his back. “You raped three women, Kyle! Members of other Houses. You left one of them, Tanya Peters of House Garnet in a coma! Ring any bells?”
“They were just bitches, you're all just bitches. No better than the slaves downstairs. Pampered little bitches, strutting around playing dress up. Fuck you! Fuck them!” he shouted, spitting on the floor.
“Yes, I heard your spiel. But your House does not see it the same way, Kyle.” She pulled the Phoenix ring from his finger, and examined it. “House Phoenix has some very strict rules about how its members may interact with other Houses. They're very disappointed in you. They want you out, Kyle.”
“What are you talking about? Membership is for life!”
She leaned over closer, putting pressure on both his wrist and his back. “Exactly,” she said, dropping the Phoenix ring to the floor with a heavy thud. A moment of silence followed, a moment she used to slip the locking cuff chained to the bed frame around his wrist. The click of the lock broke Kyle from his silence.
“You bitch!” he yelled, impudently.
She stood on his back, enjoying the crack of a rib breaking under her heel before walking across the room. He groaned, pulling himself off the floor, tugging at the cuff around his wrist and cursing over his ribs.
“They have no proof! They'd never take the word of you bitches over me!”
“Proof?” she asked, bending down to retrieve the Scion ring from the floor where he dropped it. “But you gave them all the proof they need.” She examined the ring thoughtfully before looking back at him with a cruel smile. The tiny camera imbedded in its polished face stared back at her. Kyle's smug expression fell.
Utterly satisfied, she slipped the ring back onto her finger and tore the tattered remains of her dress free, letting them fall to the floor. Naked, she went to the armoire to retrieve something to wear. Kyle sat quietly as she got dressed, no doubt in shock over the death sentence that hung over his head. She would have been happy to carry out that sentence herself, but the Houses liked to handle their own wayward members. A matter of honor. Besides, leaving him here to await his executioners seemed more fitting.
“Who are you?” were his last words to her as she turned to leave.
“I'm just a bitch.” With that she left the room, shutting the door on his quiet sobs.