Monday, February 15, 2010

Safe Word.

Safe Word.

What’s the safe word? You better remember it. I’m not writing it down. You won’t get a hint later. And I’m not stopping until you give it to me.

Fools and smart men alike. They all want one thing. To be humiliated. Tied up. Torn down. Ripped to shreds. Spanked like a little baby. Called a worthless maggot. Whipped. Chained. Emasculated. This one’s licking my boots. Leather pants stretched to the point of extreme reveal an ever-growing prominence beneath his belt line. His tongue runs down the 6 inch stiletto heel of my thigh encompassing leather boots. You missed a spot baby! GET DOWN THERE AND FIX THAT! What can I say? I’m a stickler for getting things done the right way. Oooh! He got it. And here’s your reward. Crack the whip against his bare back and watch it arch. Body spasms send release and pleasure while I repeat. You fucker. DID I SAY YOU COULD ENJOY THAT?!

I know what you’re wondering. How did a nice girl get into some nasty business like that? My response, what’s so nasty about it? There’s nothing wrong with a little deviation now and again. You should try it sometime. That is if you never done it. How can you say you don’t like it, if you’ve never even tried? Nice needs a little bit of nasty to keep things straight. Get down on your knees and grovel! Sorry occupational habit. Must scold the unwilling. You know, don’t take it personal. I don’t. Unless you’d like to help me try out my new whip? Or I could work in my new boots on your back? It really does release the tensions.

Honestly I can’t say this was always my bag, as it really wasn’t. Had this boyfriend, Rubber Johnny, uh-huh like the song, and then some. You might say he sort of opened my eyes a bit. The trick was Johnny had some funny business about the bedroom. Mucking things up seem to work him into a bother quite a bit. You’d think we were taken off of the cover of a Tijuana Brass record. Sometimes it was food. Other times it was soaps, paints, bubbles, shoe polish, candle wax, dirt, and of course a few unsanitary unmentionables directly from the bathroom. Appropriate placed paraphernalia in the right places while in just… the right… position, could send that man screaming. And the dirty business was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Needless to say it didn’t take much encouragement to go along for the ride. Occasionally things did escalate into unknown but I never forgot the safe word. Johnny said it was the most important part of the agreement. Whenever things got too close for comfort that simple little word was all that was needed to calm the situation. Exploration of the world of deviation became an instant fascination.

Into the nightly clubs of digressions I would wander looking for more and more forms of pleasure. On one of my frequent trips of exploration I was presented with the opportunity to cater to a specific clientele. Which later turned into an interesting job prospect. Oh the possibilities life can offer. Laced in leather. Arms tightly chained. Thigh high stiletto boots. Legs bound back. Blood red lipstick. Gagged with a ball. Whip in hand. Body on display. Lashing after lashing. Wondering if this asshole is hard from my outfit or from my abuse. Slightly addictive habit to reach. One must wonder what began from this. How did this man find himself coming to the conclusion that whipping equals happiness? Well you know that few seconds kind of happy that we all need regularly. The minds spins wildly with wonder. Eventually I found myself handling business night to night for a variety of men. Rich, poor, fat, thin, old and young alike. All wanting to be controlled, manipulated, teased, and completely dominated.

Dominated. I never get used to the word. It means something different for everyone. Now that my boots are cleaned I get to spend the rest of the evening wandering in an out of every corner of grown man’s body with a nice long stick that is tipped off by a searing hot cherry. Watching the skin flinch back. Take it you bastard! Pulling at the hair to force back his head with a snap so I can cook the fat of his neck a little. Fry piggy fry! This one squeals like a little pig too. OINK OINK! Dirty piggy needs to get a hot poke. Tears are streaming down his face as I prod his backside with the scorching rod of fire. Red skin covered in welts to the point of a bursting blood release. Mouth holds back the release of sound. CRY! SCREAM! GIVE IN! WEAK ANIMAL! Continues to restrain from the fulfillment. The funny thing is that he loves every minute of it. The torture. The submission. The abuse. Otherwise… he knows how to take back control. Until he’s ready, I can’t do anything but carry on. Do you remember the safe word?

There’s only two tonight. I finished the ‘300’ today and decided that I’m thinking of making a series of those. What do you think? I think it might be fun. Anyhow, it’s not going up just yet. Working to finish up the 14 remaining tales of the month this week. They may almost all be up before the week’s out. Not looking like there will be a +3 this time around, unless I get inspired to do so next week.

Finally found a little inspiration last night, while watching Volver. Someone gets killed and then stuffed in a fridge. Also there’s a ghost among other things. Some may manifest into something. Once I let my mind walk back into the realm of darkness of course there was the inspiration. It’s funny what triggers it now. I still continue to find  it in everything as I imagine most artists do. Where/Why does it go? Sometimes when there is too much in my head I can’t fully tap into the creative. I don’t know. It can be overwhelming when it’s gone, and I worry it won’t return. But something sets it off and there I am in the middle of another idea. For now enjoy the story?? Or not?? m.

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