A girl Learns Her Place
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Posted:Jul 1, 2010 3:41 am
Last Updated:Oct 1, 2018 6:28 am
2387 Views
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I look down at you there before me on your knees, your eyes closed and your hands restrained by the silk tie behind you and a wicked smile crosses my lips. “ You know what, go ahead and open your eyes.” I take a fistful of hair and pull up, forcing your eyes to look up into my face even while the vibrations continue coursing through you. You let out a small whimper but choke it back for fear of more punishment.
“Look at it. Look at my dick. See that? It’s nice and hard now and you’ve gone and gotten your hands in no good position to do any good.” I begin to stroke myself with my free hand slowly, temptingly, allowing the smell of my lust saturate the room and at the same time, holding your head in place just beyond the reach of your tongue against the head of my dick.
“What kind of sub goes and gets herself in a position where she can’t take care of her Master’s needs? You obviously have a great deal to learn yet. I mean, really, what am I doing stroking my own dick here?” The clear precum now covers the head of my dick and the inside of my hand from stroking myself.
“Spread your legs apart.” The vibrations cease and you look at me quizzically.
“I want your undivided attention. Now spread your legs like a good little fucktoy.” You oblige me, spreading your legs while remaining on your knees. “Wider. I want them as wide as they will go Brandie. Your ass needs to rest on your heels. Straighten your back. Good. Good. Now, “a small backward tug of your head, ”Lift your head ever so slightly. Yes. That’s a good girl.” You obey, trusting in my lead and I smile down at you. “
“Remember how I once told you that I used to have pleasure slaves called red silked kajira?” You nod slightly. “Well, the position that you now find yourself in is called “Nadu” and is the common kneeling position for a female slave. There is an exception to this right now though. Ordinarily your arms would be resting on your thighs, but you’ve gone and displeased me so I brought you to this modified position for instructional purposes at the moment. You see, this is the position that you will be in when you are attending Me, understand girl?”
You nod.
“Good. I will instruct you on the next position. It is called the Love Bow.” I smile down at you with a wicked twinkle in my eye. “Arch your back backwards girl.” You begin arching your back. “Good.” You notice the neutral appraising tone in my voice and see me move around you, watching your every move with eagle-eyed scrutiny before leaning in and taking the silk bindings from your wrists. “Tilt your head back further still. Arms back. No, it’s not comfortable at all, but then again, this isn’t about you.”
You continue following instruction, finally positioning yourself in the Love Bow, your legs spread apart, body bent backwards similar to doing a bridge from gymnastics. I move around to stand between your legs, out of your now seriously twisted view.
“As I stated earlier this is the Love Bow. Note how vulnerable it makes you to the whims of your Master.” A finger grazes the exposed flesh of your pussy, sliding upwards along the outer contour and against your clit, lingering a second before withdrawing totally.
“Stay!” I command and I move away, leaving the room for a few minutes before returning to my slave-girl in training. I walk around you slowly, inspecting you critically, circling you like a predator circles prey.
“I shall have to get you a full compliment of red underwear since you will be my pleasure slave. Red looks good with your complexion. The sexiness is indeed very fitting. That will be a ways off though. For the moment, you haven’t earned any “silks” yet and so you’ll simply wear your collar and nothing else here at home, understand?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Good. There are other conventions that you will learn but for the present, Sir will do in addressing Me. Master is the preferred term. I tell you thus because I would not have you be a totally ignorant kajira.
“Yes Master.”
I grunt in approval, my face out of your range of view for the moment. You can feel my presence at the base of your knees though I don’t touch you. The shock of the icy coldness against the inside of your thigh brings forth a yelp of surprise. My voice is taunt with command though, “Do not move girl.” The ice traces up your thigh, leaving your muscles quivering in its wake as it makes it’s way closer and closer towards the ever so sensitive region of your pussy. I feel your body going rigid as you seek to maintain your stillness and then, the icy sensation ceases just before it reaches your soaking wet pussy.
“This is exactly how I like my girl.” My tongue slides across the aroused flesh of your clit, followed by my lips encircling it and closing around it, totally enveloping it within what should be the warmth of my mouth and sucking, but my mouth is anything but warm. The cool shock of my mouth having been the recent receptacle of ice water overloads your senses momentarily. Your entire body shudders, seeking to collapse only to find that it cannot and simply must stand the abject pleasure of my tongue, lips, and mouth upon your clit. You cum hard for me, releasing your passions and any thought of remaining the silent little pleasure slave. I hungrily devour you, my tongue and mouth moving up and down along the contours of your pussy, occasionally darting inside you, other times taking long languid licks up and down the length of your drenched cunt. You cry out, “ no, no, no, no, no, no!” Yet your cries go unheeded as I seek to only quench my own thirst for you, to sate my own passionate lust for my pleasure slave. Your body does not disappoint, feeding my voracious appetite like I knew it would. When I rise from between your parted thighs, my face is coated with a couple layers of your glazing.
“Nadu!” I command.
You move weakly to follow the order, your own body’s strength taxed from both the stretch and the subsequent devouring, but you manage. Your thighs are still spread apart and I smile down at you, “Head up, back straight girl. I’ve something for you.”
You follow the commands and as you bring your head up, notice that I am standing before you with a monster erection, the precum making the head of my dick seem to glisten. You lick your lips in abject anticipation and I flash you a knowing smile.
“I want you to work your way up girl. Start with my balls. Mmm, yes, that’s it. Lick them like you know how to do! Yes, oh fuck yes. Put them in your mouth. Yeahhhhh that’s nice. That’s really nice girl. Mmmmm fuck that feels good. Does my girl like that? I bet she does. I bet she fucking loves having her Master’s ball sack in her mouth like a good lil fucktoy. Bet your pussy is drenched again! Hell you’re probably leaking all on the floor!”
“You now what, I need more.” I pull back a little, “Suck it!” And with that, I take the back of your head and guide you down on my dick, slowly feeding it to you, inch by hard, heated inch. “Mmmmm yesssss! That’s a good girl. Take this hard dick in your mouth. Take it all.” I push my hips forward, ensuring that your mouth is indeed full with my hard dick.
The leer in my eyes is unmistakable lust, “I love watching your beautiful lips around my dick! That’s a good girl. Suck your Master’s dick! Get it all. Get all that good hard dick in your fucking mouth! Ohhhh yeah! Oh that feels so good! Mmmm, fuck. That’s it right there! Yeah! Daddy’s gonna feed you baby. I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna fucking cum so HARD!”
Words fail me at that point as the animalistic instincts take over completely. GutturaI grunts and a growing growl that becomes just short of a roar takes me over the edge. I pull you close to me, biting my bottom lip as my body goes rigid, my muscles tensing as I ride the crest of the wave of ecstasy before being overtaken by a pleasure sensor overload and erupting in your warm mouth, filling it with my cum to the point of overflow, a trail of my seed dripping from the corner of your mouth. I look down at you, you up at me and simultaneously we mouth the words “I love you” to each other before laughing at ourselves weakly.
“Now, you have had your proper dessert,” I tell you with a wicked little wink.
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Goddess Lost
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Posted:Jun 29, 2010 4:43 am
Last Updated:Mar 11, 2020 6:27 pm
2012 Views
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Mistress knew Her pup better than he would ever admit and it shames him knowing that She still has the control over him that he once believed himself free of. It scares him more than he wants to think about.
The simple fact is that Mistress owns puppy and he was too stubborn or stupid to realize it for quite some time. The dreams won’t let puppy forget his place tho, and there’s that hollow feeling puppy gets when first waking and finding that he misses the way She handled him- how Her eyes blazed with passion as She rode him to Her contentment, the feel of the sting of Her hand on his face when he came close to cumming before She allowed it, the creamy white of Her skin against the dark mahogany of his own. Perhaps Mistress did not know how profoundly She owned puppy’s body, or how Her tone or turning of a phrase could reduce puppy to the most base of sluts, how Her words shaped his world, how puppy needed to please Her in order to be pleased himself. Perhaps Mistress never really knew that Her own lust fueled puppy’s lusts and desires and he made them his own. Perhaps She does not know the ecstacy puppy felt when he worshiped her body, the joy that coursed through him as his hands, or lips and tongue caressed Her breast and She would signal Her pleasure with a moan or how lost in Her eyes puppy got when sucking her perfect pink pebbled nipples. Did She forget how quickly and completely puppy succumbed to Her will for Her pleasure? Could She have possibly known how utterly addicted to the taste of her sweet nectar he had become. Puppy doubts that. She was more than well aware of Her effect upon him. She was his Goddess and puppy knew bliss in the sound of her pleasure.
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What's in a name? Ask Mr Lynch.
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Posted:Jun 12, 2010 3:12 am
Last Updated:Jun 12, 2010 8:41 pm
2171 Views
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Alright, so it's been a while since I've written anything, but hey, I've been pretty busy and well, a busy life's a far better thing than a boring life.
But this particular posts has very little to do with what's been keeping me busy. It's a mere observation that I had while perusing the site.
So there I was, in the wilds of Adult Dating zone, checking out some of what Adult Dating zone calls potential matches for me, which are supposed to be based on my profile here. I'm looking and low and behold, I come across what looks like an interesting Sheila so I click on her profile to see if I can find out a lil more about her.
She's got strikingly good looks. I read her profile and she comes across as witty, intelligent (or at least smart enough to use the spellcheck and grammar check on her computer), and fun. This is looking good! I check out her location and she even happens to be within driving distance from me! SCORE!!!!
Oh, wait. Wait a minute. What town is she from? Lynchburg. Really? Lynchburg. The word rolls around my head like old bones tossed by the tribal shaman who in my minds eye looks back at me with wide wary eyes and says in a deep ominous tone, "Bad Juju."
Now don't get me wrong. I'm a modern kinda guy. I'll freely admit to my own prejudices (I love ladies! Men, not so much). I don't prefer any particular ethnic background to another, and even though I'm a black man, I'm not automatically predisposed to the prototypical big busty blonde cheerleader type nor the sultry sexy Halle Berry type (Can I have 'em both?).
I am, however, a black man, and there are certain words that bring about powerful residual images in my mind. Lynch is one such word. It connotes a dark time in U.S history that I would hope America feels ashamed of and would like to forget as a bad dream. It whispers of burning crosses, angry mobs cloaked in white hoods and sheets, and brutal abductions topped off by even more brutal hangings. It speaks of terrorism even more poignant than anything most Americans today would even recognize. She lives in Lynchburg, and as sexy as she is, I'm simply not willing to go there just yet. She's white. I'm black. This is America- land of the free and home of the brave. It's 2010 and we even have a black president, but I'm for one, am not quite sure if we've really been able to wake up from last century's nightmare.
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Despising Barbie
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Posted:Nov 23, 2009 6:29 pm
Last Updated:Jul 4, 2010 11:22 pm
2406 Views
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With the holidays upon us and Christmas shopping about to kick into overdrive, I thought it best to present my ideas (twisted tho they may be) on some of the toys that are out there. I start this little series off with a treatise on Barbie. Read and have fun. Adult Dating zone does not endorse the views of bloggers on this site.
The Barbie toy line serves, quite, possibly, as the single greatest threat to the very fiber of American moral fiber today. I realize that may sound strange to most folks (especially here), and chauvanistic to others. I wouldn't be surprised if the ACLU comes after me. "Why?" you ask. I'll tell you. The Barbie persona embodies and propagates ideas detrimental to a healthy balance of reason among Americans. Barbie promotes an impossible ideal of beauty, an extreme bent of materialism, and a confusing message regarding career choices, all of which serve to undermine the ideals of women in American society.
Barbie's impossible figure, though legendary in its obvious appeal, promotes an extremely unhealthy view of women's bodies among our youth. While breast size has been equated with femininity and fertility for untold ages, we have to ask ourselves, "What's really going on here?" Were Barbie a real person, her measurements would be 38-24-35. She would also be about 7 feet tall and weigh about 110 lbs. Clearly the doll is not based on an actual human being. Such outrageous measurements bring to mind the exaggerations made by ancient civilizations in their sculptures of fertility gods and goddesses. Are we so blind as to happily let our girls play with fertility idols? I wonder if there could be a correlation between pregnancy and the rise of Barbie's impact on American society? Of course, there is also a question of indoctrination. We hold Barbie up as an icon for beauty which is great if you happen to be a blond blue eyed little girl, but what if you're a red head or a brunette? Heaven forbid you're asian, latina, or black. True, Barbie has been given minority friends to reflect our culturally diverse society, but what does that really do other than teach the nigh infamous phrase, "Oh, some of my best friends are (insert minority in question in the blank here)." I do not disagree that this is better than days gone by when minorities simply did not exist in "Barbie-world", but surely one can see there is a great deal of room for improvement.
Of course, speaking of great amounts of room brings to mind Barbie's role as the poster for extreme materialism. Barbie has enough real estate to make people wonder if her last name might be Trump. (Just what is her last name anyway?) The woman has an apartment, a townhouse, a dream house, a mansion, and my personal favorite, the Dream Castle. Take a look at the Barbie garage and the picture becomes even more alarming. Where else could she part her bicycle, her scooter, her VW Beetle, her jeep, her SUV, her mini-van, her RV, or her signature pink corvette? There's a lot of horses under a lot of hoods so we'll simply not even mention the horses that have to be in ranch out back. Of course the reason for the excessive vehicle and housing count becomes obvious once you recognize the mechanism that drives this unstoppable juggernaut of materialism. All of those shoes and clothes have to be stored somewhere.
Just what kind of job gets a person the extreme amount of material possessions that Barbie has? Barbie's careers have been numerous though. She's been a princess, a cheerleader, an Olympic gymnast, a nurse, a doctor, a lawyer, a fighter-pilot, a fire-fighter, a police-woman, an actress, and an astronaut. I think the only Barbie I haven't been able to find is "Heiress Barbie". This is not to say that any of these are bad jobs. Quite the contrary, i think it's great that girls have a successful role model. I believe that this could be done more effectively by allowing Barbie's friends to have professions outside of sports. Both Christie and Theresa, Barbie's black and hispanic friends respectively, play soccer and basketball. Both have dolls that have swimwear and cheerleader play sets, but both are oddly absent from the professional arena. Case in point- there is a Dr. Barbie, but no Dr. Christie or Dr. Theresa. Why couldn't Barbie be a doctor who happened to have a lawyer friend named Christie and a financial planner friend named Theresa? I'm not saying there should be no professional role models in toys; I believe there should be more. I also believe that the wealth needs to be spread a lot more so in this case.
On the surface, the Barbie success story is just that- a story rife with tension yet ending happily in success. The questions must be asked though, just how much has this success cost us as a culture and are we willing to continue paying this outrageous cost? Are we willing to continue to allow this subversive indoctrination of the hearts and minds of our ? There is more at stake here than Barbie's little empire or even money. Parents need to understand the serious business that 's playtime truly is. A 's play is a major role in shaping that 's perception of reality- everything from relationships to jobs to ultimately how the grows to see himself/herself within the grand scheme of the universe. We owe our as undistorted a picture as that as humanly possible.
Next up: Yeah, I despise Barbie, but wait til you hear what I've got to say about her loser boyfriend Ken.
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Discretion and Valor- Mutually Exclusive?
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Posted:Nov 20, 2009 3:53 am
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2013 4:35 am
2342 Views
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Writers write. Runners run. Both of these are some of the simplest of truths. If the rest of life were this way, the game would be oh so much simpler. Unfortunately, it's not. I mean really, think about it- that would mean having to basically reconstruct the whole of our language. That guy that cut you off on the freeway just may OR may NOT be a motherfucker- you have no idea of he's fucking someone's mom. Come to think of it, in today's society, it's almost as likely he's fucking someone's dad and just not telling.
Speaking of "not telling", would anyone mind sharing with me the definition of discreet here on Adult Dating zone? How many times do people put on their profiles "Seeking discreet encounters" only to turn around and have recommendations posted for everyone to see? That doesn't seem very discreet to me. Perhaps there's an asterisk somewhere that I missed.
That's not all though. Take the profile that has discreet encounters listed, but when you read the entire profile, as we are so often told to do, you find that what the person wants isn't a discreet encounter at all but a full blown relationship! WTF??? I'm not advocating for the ever-popular insta-fuck, but let's be real here. Be brave and mean what you say and say what you mean. It should go without saying that your sex life is your personal business and as such doesn't necessarily belong to the forum of public opinion (unless of course, your name is Brangelina, Britney Spears, or Paris Hilton for some odd reason). It should go without saying that we're all adults here *chuckles* (well, most of us) and a little common sense and dare I say this- decency would go a long way.
I'm afraid that the reality of so much "discretion" is that people are like big bad assed . We want our cake and we want to eat it too (Of course we do! Why else have cake in the first damn place???? It doesn't DO anything entertaining like turn cartwheels or do somersaults. It's just cake!). The bottom line is simple- in many cases discretion is the denying of the parts of ourselves that we're afraid of for whatever reason.
Be brave. People, stop using the discreet thing to cover up the fact that you're in a relationship where your partner doesn't want you off playing around with other people (if in fact they even know you're considering it in the first place). Be brave enough to face yourself in the mirror and own up to you whole self- both the good and the other-than-good qualities about yourself.
I understand that discretion has its place and its value. Many AFFers would be in dire straights professionally if everything about them came out in the open in their particular field of expertise and trust me, I'm not talking about them. I'm speaking to the rest of us. Can we really be brave discreetly?
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