Thursday, June 30, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
SMALL INSTRUCTIONS #5
As punishment for your not having read my previous message as of yet, tonight you will be forced to your knees, and as I take out my cock and stroke it in front of you, I may decide not to allow you to taste my warm tumescence. You must beg me for it with your eyes and if you aren't convincing enough I will punish you as I see fit. When I am through bringing you the pain that makes your body quiver with excitement, that hardens my stiffening wand to bursting, you will be requested to slowly ease your hand up my waiting ass. I want to feel your tiny hand inside me slowly coaxing my shivering body to respond. You will jerk and suck my cock down your waiting throat and when I am through having my pleasure satisfied you will receive a tender, deserved spanking until your tears are no longer yours but mine alone. Tonight, you are here for my pleasure. You will remember how you serve me and every day while I am gone, you will accept that your service will be missed and that when we next see each other all of our smoldering desire for each other will flow through us igniting the passion longed for over the miles.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
SMALL INSTRUCTIONS #4
Hello my little slut,
Future plans: You will meet me fresh from shower using sandalwood soap. I want every inch of you smelling of this. You will wear expendable clothes and bring along something to wear home. Sexy panties a must. Clothes that can be cut or torn off of you and taken as shredded souvenirs as I desire.
You will call me only Sir, or mister. "No" will mean "yes." I will take you as I please and I want some resistance verbally and physically but I would like to see you cower as you did in my loving room the first time. When I am with you I am in a space of surety entwined with ecstatic suffering as your pain brings me a pain drenched with love and trust. Your trust empowers me.
When you left on Sunday, I stayed up for four hours fantasizing about so many filthy things I want to put you through. I will teach you to hurt me as well. A wonderful start we had. I long to call you from California and tell you all of these filthy things while you get yourself off. I yearn to find a young man anxious for you who will be tied and blindfolded and listen to me slap and chastise you. Who will listen to me fuck your ass, slap your thighs, hear you crying.
And while you are restrained and spanked into a trance, I will slowly pinch and kiss and provoke his anxious skin, pull his hair and suck his cock as you watch us, torturing him with enticing words and thoughts of his filling you with hard, thick cock. But before he is allowed to violate you, he must first make slow deliberate love to me, following your every wish.
Finally, we will both fill you with our warm fullness and splash our excitement across you beautiful face.
In the meantime, you are mine slutty plaything and I am your dastardly puppet.
Future plans: You will meet me fresh from shower using sandalwood soap. I want every inch of you smelling of this. You will wear expendable clothes and bring along something to wear home. Sexy panties a must. Clothes that can be cut or torn off of you and taken as shredded souvenirs as I desire.
You will call me only Sir, or mister. "No" will mean "yes." I will take you as I please and I want some resistance verbally and physically but I would like to see you cower as you did in my loving room the first time. When I am with you I am in a space of surety entwined with ecstatic suffering as your pain brings me a pain drenched with love and trust. Your trust empowers me.
When you left on Sunday, I stayed up for four hours fantasizing about so many filthy things I want to put you through. I will teach you to hurt me as well. A wonderful start we had. I long to call you from California and tell you all of these filthy things while you get yourself off. I yearn to find a young man anxious for you who will be tied and blindfolded and listen to me slap and chastise you. Who will listen to me fuck your ass, slap your thighs, hear you crying.
And while you are restrained and spanked into a trance, I will slowly pinch and kiss and provoke his anxious skin, pull his hair and suck his cock as you watch us, torturing him with enticing words and thoughts of his filling you with hard, thick cock. But before he is allowed to violate you, he must first make slow deliberate love to me, following your every wish.
Finally, we will both fill you with our warm fullness and splash our excitement across you beautiful face.
In the meantime, you are mine slutty plaything and I am your dastardly puppet.
THE EYES HAVE IT
Concert at The Echo, bands I don't know. I crawl in solo and early, walking around before the show, making quick eye contact with a brunette in a hippie dress. Green eyes. Young. Half my age (isn’t everyone?). I get a drink at the bar, move around behind her 20 feet or so back. She’s obviously with some tall, galoot in a plaid shirt. He’s yammering at her about his job, what he does. Her eyes dart around the periphery and back to him when she thinks he’s looking at her, feigning interest. He never asks her a question, or even pauses to allow her a random innocuous comment. In fact, he doesn’t seem to really care if she is listening at all, he just presumes so. For the most part he keeps his eyes up in the rafters as he speaks. Glancing at the stage lights, the big, dark speakers hanging precariously in the corners of the room playing some decent, if non-descript CD of post-apocalyptic, West Coast, 80s punk.
She feels my eyes on her. I look up and down her body slowly, memorizing. She’s wearing a loose, hippie-type dress. Summery, muslin perhaps, short above her knees but low-cut with a little cleavage and a necklace I can’t quite see from 10 feet away in the darkened club. She feels my eyes on her, catching me looking her over. When he glances away from her, rambling, she smiles slightly and glances directly in my eyes. I do not avert. This goes on all during the first act, repeating like the incessant bass line. She seems to know the words to all of the songs. I know none of them. She’s obviously a regular and me just a newbie fan who hadn’t even heard of this band until the night before.
During the break I sit on edge of the stage and watch the crowd mill about. Some mating dances, lots of 20-somethings out for a night of rock n roll with packs of friends. She must be on a first date because who would hang with this moron more than once. Almost every time I look at her she is either already looking at me or turns her eyes slightly trying to be nonchalant and not obvious about it. Why her interest in me, I’m unsure. Other than the fact that my fearlessness at making eye contact might be a bit irregular for someone of her beauty and then again, perhaps I'm obviously just forward enough considering her hovering suitor.
During main band’s set, all sexy 70s harmonies and 90s grungy guitars with flashes of Bakersfield honky-tonk twang. She video tapes the whole thing. While the three guitarist front men are much closer to her age, she doesn’t sing along this set but keeps glancing away from her screen and out of the corner of her eye at me. She has positioned herself between the finally quiet boyfriend and the sweat-wet singers and her date is none the wiser. This has got to be a first date or perhaps the closing moments of something gone on too listlessly long.
Before the encore, he runs off with his peanut bladder, and I figure, impulsively, that I only have a minute or two. I take five steps to my left. Eyes locked on hers, her camera is at her side. Everyone else must presume I'm lurching, aching for rock star proximity in the pit when actually I’m scooching to the right over to her side to say, “Your red light is still on.”
“A-----”, she says her name softly, as if a forbidden secret shared.
“Hi. Who’s the guy? What’s is story?”
“He’s boring. He went to get one for the road. You really want HIS story?”
“No, just yours. You, live in town?”
“Yes, Silver Lake. I’m 25. You?”
“That’s two answers. I only asked one…I live in the mountains.”
“Nice…(she waits)”
“54, though I look MUCH younger.”
She giggles. “Older than my dad,” with a big beautiful smile.
Now it’s my turn to say, “Nice.” She laughs out loud.
“Great hiking up there waiting for you, come on up for a visit.” I smile big. She grins big back. I can’t believe how easy it is to just invite this stranger to my moungtain home, miles away. I’m kind of amazed myself. My balls hurt, they are so big. But I figured the dude would be back any minute. “Seen these guys before?” I ask, meaning the band.
“Seen the opener but not the other guys. You?”
“Nope. But they were awesome.” She giggles again. “You like Jeff Beck?...not Beck, Jeff Beck the guitarist?” Now, I’m throwing it out there fast. I am so sick of wasting time especially when I have nothing to lose.
“Sure, he’s got a girl on bass.” I don’t tell her it’s not that band anymore but I’m impressed she knows that.
“I thinking about trying to get tickets to see him in Pomona tomorrow night. Can I call you in the morning?”
She just recites me her number. Hold on…” I scramble for my phone. She repeats it and I get it in without area code, furtively glancing up to see “Mr. First Date” Coming from across the room, walking slowly concentrating to not spill his two full beers.
I start to ask a question, which she anticipates, “323.”
She was about 5’2”, natural, unpretentious looking girl, brunette, curly Joan Osborne type angelic hair. Pale skin. Curvy, dimpled smile. Eyes green like emerald pools. Nice body from what I could see. Not super skinny but not fat either. I liked that she was direct, only shy in the first 30 seconds of me approaching. She looked directly into my eyes when not casually looking around for her dude checking his whereabouts. She seemed very comfortable with my attentions. Quite nonchalant and natural. Wow.
Looking up, I see he’s about 10 feet away, and closing, hands soaked. She has both of their coats in her arms and he tries to hand her a beer and of course, doesn’t reach to help with the coats. Doofus.
Fortuitously, I get a call from my buddy who told me about the show. I turn and look down at my cell before the guy gets that I’m chatting up his girl. Stand there acting busy, texting, “I’m talking to a hottie.” I put my phone to my ear and then glance up at her and she mouths the words, “Call me,” as he leads her to one of the little tables that were emptying out over by the side wall. I head outside, leaning against a car parked curbside, hoping for one last glance. After about ten minutes, they get booted and stroll out into the night. As they pass my post, I look into her eyes and stick my hand against my chest and make it flutter. She smiles and walks by in Moron’s yammering wake.
I can barely sleep all night, anxious to call her. I wait until 11 a.m. the next morning, Sheer will power, I was thinking she was probably up late and didn’t want her to think I was too anxious. She answered on the second ring and said, before I had a chance to speak, “’Bout time you called.”
“How’d you know it was me?” I laughed.
“I recognized the area code. You sure were forward last night,” I hear the teasing under-her-breath smile curving the vorners of her mouth as she speaks.
“I apologize but I just couldn’t risk not seeing that look in your eyes again.”
“…or the chance of seeing me naked.” Boy, this girl was direct, pretty intense for a girl her age. I felt exhilarated but also a bit trepidatious thinking I should probably keep on my toes.
“So are we going to that concert tonight or is this a booty call?”
“Well, do you have a preference?” Two could play this game.
“How about you come over and fuck me and then we decide?” I had no problem agreeing to that but wanted to make her wonder for a moment. “What makes you presume I want to fuck you?” I queried, unconvincingly.
She hung up.
Oh shit. Now, who’s the doofus? But I could practically hear her laugh in the silence of her far-off room. On the tenth ring she picked up, torturing me.
“So that didn’t take long to decide, now did it?” she sounded reserved but playful, but what did I know, I hardly knew her. “Did it?” This time she said it a bit more forcefully.
“I will do whatever you want me to do, young lady.” She had me and I tested the waters to make sure she was ready and willing as she implied.
“In private, you call me Mistress Ann. I presume you know how to pay me proper respect when you address me?”
“Yes, Mistress Ann.”
“Good. Now when I am ready, I will text you my address and I will expect you there within the hour. I want you on your knees at my front door when I answer it. Barefoot. Now, go clean yourself up.”
“Yes, Mistress Ann.”
She feels my eyes on her. I look up and down her body slowly, memorizing. She’s wearing a loose, hippie-type dress. Summery, muslin perhaps, short above her knees but low-cut with a little cleavage and a necklace I can’t quite see from 10 feet away in the darkened club. She feels my eyes on her, catching me looking her over. When he glances away from her, rambling, she smiles slightly and glances directly in my eyes. I do not avert. This goes on all during the first act, repeating like the incessant bass line. She seems to know the words to all of the songs. I know none of them. She’s obviously a regular and me just a newbie fan who hadn’t even heard of this band until the night before.
During the break I sit on edge of the stage and watch the crowd mill about. Some mating dances, lots of 20-somethings out for a night of rock n roll with packs of friends. She must be on a first date because who would hang with this moron more than once. Almost every time I look at her she is either already looking at me or turns her eyes slightly trying to be nonchalant and not obvious about it. Why her interest in me, I’m unsure. Other than the fact that my fearlessness at making eye contact might be a bit irregular for someone of her beauty and then again, perhaps I'm obviously just forward enough considering her hovering suitor.
During main band’s set, all sexy 70s harmonies and 90s grungy guitars with flashes of Bakersfield honky-tonk twang. She video tapes the whole thing. While the three guitarist front men are much closer to her age, she doesn’t sing along this set but keeps glancing away from her screen and out of the corner of her eye at me. She has positioned herself between the finally quiet boyfriend and the sweat-wet singers and her date is none the wiser. This has got to be a first date or perhaps the closing moments of something gone on too listlessly long.
Before the encore, he runs off with his peanut bladder, and I figure, impulsively, that I only have a minute or two. I take five steps to my left. Eyes locked on hers, her camera is at her side. Everyone else must presume I'm lurching, aching for rock star proximity in the pit when actually I’m scooching to the right over to her side to say, “Your red light is still on.”
“A-----”, she says her name softly, as if a forbidden secret shared.
“Hi. Who’s the guy? What’s is story?”
“He’s boring. He went to get one for the road. You really want HIS story?”
“No, just yours. You, live in town?”
“Yes, Silver Lake. I’m 25. You?”
“That’s two answers. I only asked one…I live in the mountains.”
“Nice…(she waits)”
“54, though I look MUCH younger.”
She giggles. “Older than my dad,” with a big beautiful smile.
Now it’s my turn to say, “Nice.” She laughs out loud.
“Great hiking up there waiting for you, come on up for a visit.” I smile big. She grins big back. I can’t believe how easy it is to just invite this stranger to my moungtain home, miles away. I’m kind of amazed myself. My balls hurt, they are so big. But I figured the dude would be back any minute. “Seen these guys before?” I ask, meaning the band.
“Seen the opener but not the other guys. You?”
“Nope. But they were awesome.” She giggles again. “You like Jeff Beck?...not Beck, Jeff Beck the guitarist?” Now, I’m throwing it out there fast. I am so sick of wasting time especially when I have nothing to lose.
“Sure, he’s got a girl on bass.” I don’t tell her it’s not that band anymore but I’m impressed she knows that.
“I thinking about trying to get tickets to see him in Pomona tomorrow night. Can I call you in the morning?”
She just recites me her number. Hold on…” I scramble for my phone. She repeats it and I get it in without area code, furtively glancing up to see “Mr. First Date” Coming from across the room, walking slowly concentrating to not spill his two full beers.
I start to ask a question, which she anticipates, “323.”
She was about 5’2”, natural, unpretentious looking girl, brunette, curly Joan Osborne type angelic hair. Pale skin. Curvy, dimpled smile. Eyes green like emerald pools. Nice body from what I could see. Not super skinny but not fat either. I liked that she was direct, only shy in the first 30 seconds of me approaching. She looked directly into my eyes when not casually looking around for her dude checking his whereabouts. She seemed very comfortable with my attentions. Quite nonchalant and natural. Wow.
Looking up, I see he’s about 10 feet away, and closing, hands soaked. She has both of their coats in her arms and he tries to hand her a beer and of course, doesn’t reach to help with the coats. Doofus.
Fortuitously, I get a call from my buddy who told me about the show. I turn and look down at my cell before the guy gets that I’m chatting up his girl. Stand there acting busy, texting, “I’m talking to a hottie.” I put my phone to my ear and then glance up at her and she mouths the words, “Call me,” as he leads her to one of the little tables that were emptying out over by the side wall. I head outside, leaning against a car parked curbside, hoping for one last glance. After about ten minutes, they get booted and stroll out into the night. As they pass my post, I look into her eyes and stick my hand against my chest and make it flutter. She smiles and walks by in Moron’s yammering wake.
I can barely sleep all night, anxious to call her. I wait until 11 a.m. the next morning, Sheer will power, I was thinking she was probably up late and didn’t want her to think I was too anxious. She answered on the second ring and said, before I had a chance to speak, “’Bout time you called.”
“How’d you know it was me?” I laughed.
“I recognized the area code. You sure were forward last night,” I hear the teasing under-her-breath smile curving the vorners of her mouth as she speaks.
“I apologize but I just couldn’t risk not seeing that look in your eyes again.”
“…or the chance of seeing me naked.” Boy, this girl was direct, pretty intense for a girl her age. I felt exhilarated but also a bit trepidatious thinking I should probably keep on my toes.
“So are we going to that concert tonight or is this a booty call?”
“Well, do you have a preference?” Two could play this game.
“How about you come over and fuck me and then we decide?” I had no problem agreeing to that but wanted to make her wonder for a moment. “What makes you presume I want to fuck you?” I queried, unconvincingly.
She hung up.
Oh shit. Now, who’s the doofus? But I could practically hear her laugh in the silence of her far-off room. On the tenth ring she picked up, torturing me.
“So that didn’t take long to decide, now did it?” she sounded reserved but playful, but what did I know, I hardly knew her. “Did it?” This time she said it a bit more forcefully.
“I will do whatever you want me to do, young lady.” She had me and I tested the waters to make sure she was ready and willing as she implied.
“In private, you call me Mistress Ann. I presume you know how to pay me proper respect when you address me?”
“Yes, Mistress Ann.”
“Good. Now when I am ready, I will text you my address and I will expect you there within the hour. I want you on your knees at my front door when I answer it. Barefoot. Now, go clean yourself up.”
“Yes, Mistress Ann.”
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