most base and most pure

November 16, 2019

She imagined herself both queen and slave, dominatrix and victim. In her imagination she was making love with men of all skin colours – white, black, yellow – with homosexuals and beggars. She was anyone’s, and anyone could do anything to her. She had one, two, three orgasms, one after another. She imagined everything she had never imagined before, and she gave herself to all that was most base and most pure.

Paulo Coelho
Veronika Decides to Die

Stiff with desire

April 21, 2018

The human trap

July 16, 2017

16th July

He said, ‘Put your face down there,’ and guided her head lower. She lightly kissed his belly before taking him into her mouth –

She became like a she-wolf feasting on flesh – he cried out in pleasure, pain, terror, and she smiled as she feasted, sucking the very soul from his body in that fractured moment of time –

A wild thing, was she. Feral and ferocious – and, oh, so greedy! She felt liquid fire in her veins and the moon filling her head –

Gradually she released her claw-like grip, licked the remains of his soul from her lips, and spoke in a low growl. She said, ‘I’d like to keep you chained in my wardrobe. I’d have you there to kiss whenever I wanted. Have you there to fuck when I felt desire. See how eager I am? I came to you without shoes or clothes, dressed only in my fine grey fur. Yes, my love tastes of bitterness, and like the wild rose I’ve been covered in thorns. I will make a crown of thorns for you to wear in my wardrobe…my den. Your prison. And only I will see. Only I – ’

He lay silent an still beneath her. She breathed her life into his motionless mouth, and said, ‘You’re as nothing now. Nothing but what I mould you into. My pet, my dog. My slave. You are nothing but a blank canvass on which I can paint my darkest fantasies. You will be whatever I tell you to be. You have no choice. There is no other way -’

#

He knew she could cut his soul into a million pieces. Once, in a corn file, he’d heard the sound of raindrops whispering on her bare flesh. It was a poetry, softly recited on breasts, belly and buttocks, which came back to haunt him again and again. Another time she wrote him a love letter, the only one, and it was full of sadness and despair –

Orgasms, one after another

November 27, 2016

dom-in-black

She imagined herself both queen and slave, dominatrix and victim. In her imagination she was making love with men of all skin colours – white, black, yellow – with homosexuals and beggars. She was anyone’s, and anyone could do anything to her. She had one, two, three orgasms, one after another. She imagined everything she had never imagined before, and she gave herself to all that was most base and most pure.

Paulo Coelho
Veronika Decides to Die

cat-and-candle2

Diary 8th November

Mine are the memories of a lost amnesiac…

I see myself as the space between what I’d like to be and what others have made of me. So it is that, intoxicated by my madness, I go searching for reality in a world full of incomprehensible illusions – like a simple fool.

I think I must like to serve, however. I’m slave to the past, to the future – and slave to the two women in my life, also…

#

You know birds born in a cage believe flight to be an illusion. Yeah, see, you can learn something new every single day – providing you pay attention.

D’you know where the caged birds sing…?

#

Let’s Keep It This Way

I like it this way:
you not knowing anything about me,
you touching me like each
inch teaches you something new.
Let’s keep it like this:
you as the secret and
me as a stranger, a ghost,
the silence in your
parked car that leaves you choked.
I want my name to be the one
that gets caught
in the back of your throat.

Lora Mathis

#

I know people so damn poor all they have is money…

December 25, 2015

Santa's Been!!

Santa’s Been!!

Merry-Christmasmerrychristmas3merrychristmas2

 

Seasons Beatings

From:

Peedeel’s Blog

of

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voodoo, hoodoo &

so much more!

 

From our sponsor….

October 11, 2015

menwonderful

odsandeds

It’s surprising for a County with a very small population, that Cornwall Kink has 864 members. Mind you, a rural area can be ideal for kinky goings on. Mickey Walsh took photos of his wife Devina recently, in one of his ploughed fields and posted them online at FetLife.

She’s naked in some of the pics, partially clothed in others. One shows her after a roll in cow shite (not my thing at all). Another shows her with a cock in her arse. That day Mickey had arranged for five blokes to meet at his field. He let ‘em all loose on his little woman and she loved (allegedly) every gangbang minute of it. A couple of them fisted her, apparently. They all fucked her multiple times. And in the pouring rain, too! And farmer Mickey stood with a hard-on photographing it all for posterity.

Well, did you ever…?

Ron’s sister, Debbie Field, the school teacher, recently said to me: ‘Silence is golden, duct tape silver….’

That was at a local munch. She was drinking Asti and orange juice. ‘My men scream,’ she told me shrilly. ‘But silently behind the silver tape. I really love CBT…Cock & ball torture. I love the power of holding a guy’s tackle in the palm of my hand. Then making a tight fist of that hand and watching his face. It is ecstasy…’

She is, boys and girls, a well built and very strong woman. Amazonian, I think, is the term.

Another woman at that same munch said to me, ‘Every man is just a work in progress. From their early teens they’re just walking hard-ons. Except they all have this built in off-switch. Once they cum it kicks in, and they lose interest in you – their attention wanders elsewhere, football and what-have-you. So you’ve got to be an artist, a sculptor. Men are the raw lumps of marble waiting for your chisel – you have to create a masterwork. And you do that by learning to prolong and preserve their raging erections…and you do that by teasing and torturing them. Continuously edging them. Keep ‘em on the edge of orgasm; on the edge of desperation.’

Her name was April and she lived over on the coast. She was drinking vodka and lemonade. She was looking, she said, for a new “slaveboy” to join her existing “body slave”, Thomas. She would prefer a totally hetro male, because forcing him into fellatio with Thomas would be more “fun”, she thought.

She became a little tipsy during the course of the evening and talked a lot about cock rings and tying testicles. ‘I keep Simon rock hard,’ she said. ‘I love queening him on the sitting room carpet. Having a man lick and nurse your womanhood is MAGICAL! Truly it is. And once a month, without fail, I let Simon cum. Drain him completely.’

A guy named Desmond mentioned his shopping trips to a well known local store. He said, ‘They have some good stainless steel items. I love the feel of cold steel during a bondage session…’

Personally, I’m not so sure about this.

Chris Grant, a middleaged Dom, rambled on about politics. Talking about the labour party, he asked, ‘Where’s the effin’ fire, eh? Where’s the belief…In anything? The whole bloody lot are just career politicians now…’

I couldn’t disagree.

I went off to get a couple more hot veggie rolls and a pint. The evening was sort of strange, but the people wonderful. I don’t really do them justice here.

Erica, a plump pansexual, described herself as ‘a little bit of a sadist,’ (Ummm, not too sure about that ‘little bit’). She’s heavily into humiliating males of all ages. She said she was married (to John), but had three lovers and was about to engage with a fourth. ‘I’m selfish,’ she said. ‘Bratty and narcissistic. I enjoy exploring kink…’

She’s also a horsey woman, and goes horse riding whenever the opportunity arises (she owns a horse which is stabled not far from my home). Her other interests (so she said) were manga and comic books, churchyards (?) and Goth fashion. Erica had a beautiful tattoo of a dragon climbing her left arm. She told me its twin was on her lower back, scrambling out of her arse.

Ummm, now that would be a sight for sore eyes…

Yesterday afternoon in the supermarket carpark I heard a man and woman having a bit of a barny. The man had a very thick Cornish accent. ‘Well,’ he almost yelled. ‘You sit on your arse in the car then, I’m off to do shoppin’.’ The woman made some reply, her voice softer, inaudible to me. ‘Keep it shut,’ the man ordered. ‘Or you’ll get the belt again when I get you home…’

Were they part of the scene? I wondered. Or was this yet another example of local domestic abuse?

It’s often so difficult to tell, isn’t it?

Rent in fragments…

May 27, 2015

SLAVE

“I had been conquered and enraptured, destroyed and renewed, rent in fragments and made whole, freed and enslaved, broken and created. And in the end, overwhelmed, struggling to comprehend,
I had found myself more a slave than ever.”

John Norman
Witness of Gor