Oct 222014
 

She was barefoot. The busty brunette thrashed at her handlers. Her sandals flew off her feet when she kicked. She was through the back of a strip-mall office and into an empty warehouse.

They pushed her against a dark, dusty van and frisked her thoroughly. A man’s hands wove around her. They dove beneath her clothes. He handed off her keyring, cellphone, and sunglasses. She had a small change purse that held $13.67, Sunshine Kissed lip gloss, and her driver’s license. They took that, too.

She was Lucy. Lucy Bernard.

She screeched in protest. Pressure on points of Lucy’s body and odd holds on appendages competed with her adrenalin. She succumbed to them physically, after they conquered her fight or flight mode. She was a mess of herself. Lucy was on her knees, her arms pulled up behind her back. Her head bent forward like a P.O.W. She cried, her hair stuck to her face and her nose ran. She promised she’d be still.

The men who wrangled her kept a tight hold. They pulled her up into an awkward walking position. Her wet face streaked it’s way down the dusty van. They shoved her in the back, releasing her into the dark body of the dirty cab.

They made stops. They picked up more girls. Most of the women were drugged, unconscious, or barely lucid. The vehicle came to a halt. The women inside rolled towards the cab of the vehicle. Lucy was the first one in. She’d wedged herself between the hump in the back of the van, and the back of the cab. She tucked her knees under her chin. With every stop, the number of women grew. She pulled her arms inside her shirt and curled up, full of dread and fear. The bodies piled in.

The back of the van doors opened. Lucy was momentarily blinded by the harsh florescents. Some of the girls exited the filthy vehicle on their own. They wobbled and stumbled out, their mind’s muddied. Some women fell out and onto each other. They all cried out, either in fear or pain. Some had to be pulled into their new hell. A bald man dove in by the waist to drag out the terrified women.

The bald man was short and wide. His fat was hard. It was thick. His thin comb-over was a joke. He smelled of cigars and piss. Hair easily found every part of him except the top of his head. His entire body was covered with thick, hairy sweat. A gritty filth.

Lucy scooted out of her hole with the intention of exiting on her own. The circulation in her legs disagreed with her. The familiar feeling of pins and needles ran up her legs. Just as her ass lifted, it fell. Her ankle became prey to the fat man’s onslaught. The wife-beater he wore was rolled-up over his big belly. He drug her down the length of the van. He juiced Lucy’s bare leg with his thick, hairy sweat. It left a sheen of stink to set into her already dirty skin.

The scrambling and falling of bodies kicked up the dirt on the ground. When her ankle was free, Lucy fell, too. She landed hard, on her hip. Before she could get off a reactionary rub, a metal cuff came to a grinding lock across her wrist. A fog of men in dirty workman’s uniforms pulled the women up and cuffed their wrists over a long horizontal pole made of thick metal. It ran the length of the warehouse.

Every few feet were sectioned off with three walls of wet concrete and drains in the bottom. The men cut off their clothes. Protests fell on deaf ears. There were women who cried. There were women who begged not to be touched.

The women were sent down the line. The warehouse men had different responsibilities. There were two in front of the line, and two behind. Four of them cut away clothing. Women were sent further on to be hosed down. Each of them were sudded-up. Their hair, inside their ass cheeks, cunts, feet, in between their toes. The men took no sexual liberties with the women. They might as well have been putting together cars. It was a job. The women were all rinsed clean. The men unlocked their cuffs. A warehouse man allowed Lucy and the others to towel dry at gunpoint.

The women were given clean grey sweatpants, sweatshirts, and flip-flops. As they dried off and changed into the clothes, the bald man read a list of all their names. Like roll call in school, each woman answered “here” or raised their hand when their name was called.

“Lucy Bernard!” The bald man yelled out over the mumbling.

Lucy tentatively raised her hand.

Once he was finished with the list, the bald man grinned.

“Ok, ladies… listen up. In about 15 minutes, a few SUV’s are going to arrive to take you to your new owners. I don’t get the rest of my money until all orders have been delivered! So you bitches sit down and shut-up,” he announced.

Lucy was on the third knot of the sweatpants, trying to keep them on her hips. She paused momentarily, listening.

Owners…

We were ordered?

Apr 072013
 

Push Me If you’re ready to be pushed, he’ll know when. Open up for him, hot or cold. If you want to be pushed, ask him for more. Don’t leave anything hanging in the bend. If you stumble, he won’t stop.

So slither into your surrender, sweating, sobbing, and soul bared. Because if you’re going to crawl into bed with The Devil… He will push you.

Jan 072013
 

MonsterI don’t have a call. I don’t have a sign. There is not a moonlight reminder. Monsters come when they come. And you know this is more then you can take.

Still – His scent can’t be ignored. Tiptoe if you don’t want them to notice. ‘Cause they know. You always want what you’re running from. They love they way you cry. They love the way you want to. For them.

If you wander across a Monster, and you decide to dance, then a little cut will turn his head. A Monster loves his prey. He will eat you. He will break you. He will take you. Apart. Do you love it? Do you want it? Do you need it? Does  it make it impossible to tiptoe?

Sultry Saturday

May 132012
 

“Can I ask you something? Why don’t people trust their instincts? They sense something’s wrong. Someone’s walking too close behind them,  yet they don’t cross the street. You knew something was wrong . You even knew what it was, but you came back into the house. Did I force you? Did I grab you and drag you in? I just offered you a drink.

You’d never think the fear of offending could be stronger than the fear of pain – but you know what? It is. They always come willingly. And then they’re here. They know it’s over like you do, and still somehow think they have a chance.” “Maybe if I say the right thing – if I’m polite – or I cry and beg – maybe I’ll survive.”

“And then the moment comes when they realize … no, all hope is gone. And when that happens – when I see the hope draining from their face like it is from yours right now — well, I feel myself getting hard just watching it. But you know, we’re not that different, you and I. We both have urges. Satisfying mine just requires more towels.”

Martin Vanger,  The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo

Listen to it. No second guesses. Don’t question what it is, or where it’s coming from. Don’t even ask why it’s speaking to you. You have time to analyze all of those things later. Once your instincts have spoken, respond.

Don’t look around for things that might be out of place, because you might not find anything.  Don’t stick around “just to make sure.”  At that point, you’re just attempting to lull yourself into a false sense of security. That includes turning to the other party for any kind of assurance. They are the person your instincts are alerting you about in the first place.

What are you afraid of, exactly?

A missed opportunity? –  There will be others.

Word of your anxious behavior slipping  through social circles? –  There is no blame in listening to your instincts, never heard of it happening.

Never be invited to parties or group functions? –  Unlikely.

Does the desire to be accepted over-ride the notion that you may not be able to trust the person in front of you? Do you think that offending someone is worth the chance that someone might not be who you think they are? Why take the chance? Why gamble?  If you irk someone, so what? You’re safe. You’re also more in-tune with your instincts.

You are not expected to harbinger whether or not another person is safe for all others. No one expects you to be able to take your decision to the masses to defend it. You only need to listen.

Your instincts are your own.

Use them.

 

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

May 102010
 

Hide

I wish I was in love with nightmares

Because nightmares are in love with me

They bring me my tears

They feed off my fears

Their wicked kisses won’t let me be

~*~

 I wish I was in love with nightmares

Because nightmares are in love with me

They slip out of my head

They dance ’round my bed

Forcing me to submit so passionately

~*~

 I wish I was in love with nightmares

Because nightmares are in love with me

The lick of the whip

Thickness of the tip

I can run but I can never leave

~*~

 I wish I was in love with nightmares

Because nightmares are in love with me

I cry for days

It’s their evil ways

The marks they leave no one can ever see

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

Mar 112010
 

He said “Do not fight me. I see that look in your eyes. I will break you, and you remember how that felt last time. You know where you belong and how natural it feels there….. Has it been too long? ”

He searched her eyes, and he still saw resistance there. She began to cry, tears ruining her eyeliner and mascara.

A hungry whisper close to her face, “Oh, sweet girl.”

He stood, removed his cock and covered her body in his piss.

 

Sultry Saturday

Mar 082010
 

Take me in, and see me for the broken girl I am. Protect me from myself. Hold me. Stroke me. Open me up, and sort me out. Enjoy me. Dig inside me until the tears and the begging threatens to push me over the edge, my eyes frantically searching yours, for my own salvation. At that moment do not show me kindness, only strength of your will. Take mine, and show me how you hold it in your hand, taking ownership of it, and then eat it. Gone until you decide to give it back. You have that power. I’ve taken that one opportunity that I had, and I gave it to you. Yes, I want this.

No more opportunities for you, little girl.

Daddy’s little girl answers to someone else now.

This show is live.

Enjoy it.

Feb 092010
 

What is your favorite thing to get hit with?

A Man’s hands.

I’ve watched as He’s unloaded toy after toy, paddles, straps, floggers, canes, everything. I’ve felt each of these implements strike my flesh and bring my tears and my wetness, but none bring me the closeness that His hands do.

When He touches me He has the ability to feel His work, the temperature, the give, the flow of blood and tenseness of muscle. He can go from a caress to a slap or a pinch in a moment, at His whim. I am nothing if not at His mercy…and I …love …being at His mercy.

I enjoy Him the most… His arms restraining me, His mouth as my gag, His hands striking me. I know I’m supposed to be the toy, but, it’s Him that I wish I could order from, not JT’s Stockroom.

 

(FYI: I like JT’s.)

 Read more KOTW:

Dec 212009
 

 

“Please stop…”
The words were more of a whispered sob, catching in my throat.
“I need… I need… I … need you to stop..”
I continued trying to lift my head to make eye contact. If he looked into my eyes and saw me, really saw me… he might know.

His mouth attached securely to my nipple. He didn’t look as if he was going to let up anytime soon. The burning sensation of his teeth digging into the tender flesh sent shivers through my body. My back arched. I cried out. I felt his  fingers roughly push past my panties. Three of them entered me. He  let go of my nipple to watch his own assault. I cried out and kicked, scooting myself upwards on the bed and away from him, causing him to loosen the grip his left hand had on my wrists. He grunted as his position was lost. I pushed with my shoulders and tried to roll backwards to get away. The door was 20 feet from us. I could make 20 feet.

“Back, now.” He was growling. He was upset. This was day three, day four? I was getting better at telling when he was really angry or just trying to intimidate me. He’d waited, but now he was more anxious.

He reached for me, but I rolled off the bed and hit hard on the floor. I rolled to my back and as soon as I saw him step one leg off the bed, I kicked at him as hard as I could. I clipped him. He howled, cursed, and fell back onto the bed. This was my chance. I rolled over and crawled a few paces, scrambling to my feet before taking off towards the door. He had every lock latched. Just as I was reaching for the handle to fling open the door – I felt the weight of his body crush me from behind with a loud grunt. I felt all the air in my body leave me. The smell of him bombarded my nostrils as I sucked in and  prepared myself to be thrown back on the bed. Unfortunately, he decided he liked the position. I heard his zipper release.

“I’ll kill you.”
I began to really cry.

His hand encircled the back of my neck and pinned me against the door. I felt his cock hard against my ass. I was panicking. I began to scream and beat on the door with my hands. His  hand wrapped around my mouth and nose, cutting off my ability to breathe. I became still and quiet, very quickly. His chuckle was dark. He moved me over to a chair and bent me over, letting me have my air as his hands trailed over my back, to my ass. I sucked in and coughed, gasping and sobbing as he spread my legs farther apart and began pressing himself against me, trying to get in. I threw my head back and pleaded with him.

“Please! No!”

“It’s mine. I’ll do as I please, pet.”
I thought I screamed as he entered my ass, but there was no sound, just a horrified gasp. I was holding my breath. I had done this before, but never so violently. Never like this.

“Take it, girl”

His voice was so gruff, and his hands held tightly to my hips, slamming me back onto his awaiting cock. I felt myself get wet instantly, yet the pain in my ass was almost unbearable.

‘Please… it… hurts!’
“Shhh…. I know… It’s gonna hurt.”