A Unique Gift – Chapter 10

STOP! THIS POST IS NOT SAFE FOR WORK NSFW!

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https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=91

 

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Shara – Moonless River – Part 2

Fair warning, it’s slightly NSFW

Upon arriving to her shared bungalow I followed her inside, watched her get a couple of beers from the fridge, and then continued out to the back porch to sit and drink and talk some more. Her skinny dachshund joined us and I did my best to accommodate his restless curiosity. It was there that we finally managed to have a real conversation, though my buzzing senses told me that it was largely perfunctory. I was in no state to be as thoughtful or funny as I can be on my best days, and so we mostly talked about her neighbors, my work, her school, and how we both ended up in Philly. She had moved from Texas less than six weeks earlier and was studying to take the bar exam. She said that Philly was everything that Houston wasn’t, though the fact that she’d moved to Philly sight unseen made me wonder how she’d determined that in advance.

As the summer sky cycled through a darkening palette of blue, a silent shift occurred and our conversation ceased. I spent a long moment peering out over the yard before turning to her and drawing close. We kissed. We kissed again, and again, and she eventually ended up seated on my lap, her arms around my shoulders and my arms around her waist, the first stage of weaving in which bodies can engage.

I felt good. I wanted this to be happening. I wanted to meet a young, clever girl in a bar, have a few drinks, talk, and then go to bed with her. It didn’t have to be complicated and it didn’t have to last longer than a night. It was just what I needed. After a few minutes she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the house. Had she turned toward me at any point while we descended the stairs leading to her basement bedroom she would’ve glimpsed the stupid grin that I was wearing in her wake.

I’d like to claim that things improved from there, but two factors worked in concert to make the next several hours more of a psychosexual endurance test than anything else. One: I was still really, really drunk. Two: I had grown surprisingly intimidated by the aggressive, exotic woman sitting astride me, which affected my ability to keep it up. Initially everything went just fine, but as time went on I found myself managing an ever increasing pendulum sweep of hot sex and performance anxiety. The slats of her Ikea daybed squeaked noisily and shifted with our movements, and fearful of her housemate’s moral judgement she pulled us both down to the clothes covered concrete floor for more.

Going down on her temporarily renewed me, but her almost belligerent approach combined with the men’s magazine spread of her lithe, strong body continued to daunt and distract me from the unspoken but obvious goal of getting both of us off. Sexual ineptitude was a wholly novel experience for me, and I am being honest when I say that she was, and remains, the only woman who has ever provoked it.

Back in bed, partly sated and completely exhausted, we continued to caress each other’s bodies. I rolled on top of her and nibbled her neck while running my hands through the moonless river of her hair. I liked the way her compact frame was boxed by my knees and elbows, my back and hips forming a tabletop above her. My mouth moved to her breasts, first left, then right, and there I discovered a stainless steel barbell piercing a small, dark nipple. Now, it is true that I’d never been with anyone with a nipple piercing before, but that doesn’t mean that what happened next was completely my fault. It might have been, but that shit was steel and my teeth are not.

Soon after my discovery, the ministrations of my mouth managed to break one of the balls off the shaft of the piercing, which then slid free of its years-old home. She recognized what had happened immediately and within an instant the lights were on and she was angrily assessing the damage done. Drunk, tired, bleary-eyed, and naked, we both peered at her nipple like inept scientists. I made the mistake of trying to gently squeeze it to determine where the piercing had been, after which she yelped, slapped my hand away, and disappeared upstairs with the broken barbell in one hand and her throbbing breast in the other.

She was up there for a long time. I fell asleep for a while. She later told me that she’d attempted to shove the shaft back in and nearly passed out from the pain. When that didn’t work, she resigned herself to returning to bed and dealing with it in the morning. I laid down beside her, flummoxed by and apologetic for what had happened. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly four in the morning. As much as I needed to sleep, I recalled with a sigh that I’d made plans to go to the farmer’s market with a friend early that morning, which somewhat incredibly had now arrived.

I allowed myself to rest fitfully for an hour before blindly collecting my things and padding upstairs. I don’t remember if I gave my partner in the previous night’s fiasco a kiss goodbye, but I’d like to think that I did. I also asked her to call me later about getting her nipple fixed up.

Like a gentleman.

As I walked to the street and I realized in a thrilling moment of disorientation that I had no idea where in the city I was. I chose a direction and began to walk, and after noticing the increasing house numbers, turned around and walked back the other way. By the time I determined my location I was still over a few miles from my apartment. It was a beautiful morning, bright and clear, and as I followed the river south I laughed aloud at the last twelve hours. My city was still slumbering, and I was welcoming the day.

 

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Another Life – Chapter 10

STOP! THIS POST IS NSFW.

But you can read it here:

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=385

 

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Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 10

Barbara arrived last. That girl was constantly late. One day, she would be late for her own funeral. But, as she liked to say, she was ‘worth the wait’. I was in the garage when she pulled in, gathering the tools we would need tomorrow, for taking the dock out of the water and closing the boathouse. That meant I was the first to greet her.

She had changed her clothes before getting into the car, that much was for sure. There was no way that she could have gone out in public with what she was wearing – not without getting arrested for indecent exposure. She had on a short denim skirt that covered very, very little. On top, she was wearing a white shirt, knotted just under her magnificent breasts. Her lacy black bra showed through quite plainly.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if you told me that Barbara purchased her bras from a parachute manufacturer. She had extra-large hooters, and went to great pains to make sure that everyone knew it. The rest of her body was nothing special.

But Barbara’s face was like the Portrait of Dorian Gray: it revealed every vice and every sin that she had ever committed, considered, or even contemplated. She wore just that little extra bit of eye make-up, and her lipstick was always freshly applied. She was far from shy. I have to give her this much credit: Barbara was no home-wrecker. Guys in relationships were perfectly safe from her attentions. But single men – and, if the rumours had any truth to them, single women – were certainly fair game.

Teresa let Barb greet everyone and get settled in. Perhaps half an hour later, she called us all together. By then, most of us were on our second or third drink. Anticipation was growing, and tongues were beginning to wag more freely.

“Welcome, everyone!” said Teresa. “I want to thank our hostess, Eliza, for sharing her wonderful cottage and providing us with a place to play.”

– “You can pay me back tomorrow.” responded Eliza.

Teresa carried on. “The main floor of the house will be our main deck. The kitchen will be our communal galley.” She turned to point in the opposite direction. “The master bedroom – thanks again, Ee – will henceforth be the Captain’s cabin. As such, it is off limits to you scurvy dogs. Except for Lena, who will be sharing it with me.”

That led to a chorus of “Ooohs”, led by Ben and Barb.

– “Not like that.” said Teresa. There is a bathroom off the master bedroom, if the need is urgent. Otherwise, there is a very large bathroom upstairs, and another downstairs. Upstairs will now be known as the upper deck, and that is where most of you will be bunking. There are four bedrooms: Eliza and Claire get the first, Barb and Sheila share the second. Gentlemen, you are at the end of the hall. Ben and Craig will share, and Leo bunks with Eric.”

Leo looked at me, mildly concerned. He was a fussy sleeper, and did not know Eric well.

– “Teresa – sorry.” I interrupted. “I thought you had me rooming with Eric.”

– “I drew lots among the guys, Colin – and you lost. You’ll be camping in the den, right over there. I brought along an air mattress and a sleeping bag.” The den was on the other side of the stairs from the master bedroom.

Teresa then led us downstairs. “This area will be known as the hold.” she said. There was a bathroom, and a very large games room, featuring a pool table and a ping pong table (or table tennis, if you prefer). Further off, there was a storage room, and a laundry room.

That is where Teresa led us. “This room is off limits.” she said, indicating the laundry room. “It is the brig. This is where the dread pirate Redbeard is imprisoned. As Captain Fairwind, I will have the only key. Redbeard will not be leaving this room until we arrive in Barbados – for his hanging.”

“As for outside – for our purposes, everything between the house and the dock is considered part of the ship. That includes the deck, leading outside from the kitchen, the garage, the patio, and the boathouse. Your cars are not considered part of the ship. If you need to go back to your car, you are out of character there.”

“I have a copy here of your character sketch and the introduction, in case you’ve misplaced yours. These envelopes also contain some new instructions, as well as any items or money that you may be carrying.”

“We’re ready to begin. I want everyone to go and put on their costume. Then get yourself a drink, and we will gather on the main deck. Claire – here’s your envelope. Eliza …”

I was last – Teresa was sticking to the order she had posted in the kitchen. She handed me my envelope, with that lovely half-smile on her face, and whispered: “Good luck.”

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=268

 

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A Unique Gift – Chapter 8

It had been a week since Jack had received the magical collar from his grandfather and so far he had only used it on his teacher Miss Jameson. He had been waiting to see if there were any consequences to his actions but it seemed he was in the clear. He had seen her most days at college and noticed that while she was still a bitch she seemed kinder towards him than she had before.

He noticed she would look at him in class when she thought he was looking and would quickly look away when he looked towards her. He had been checking out her ass as she was bent over one day, enjoying remembering it naked, when he swore he had seen the outline of the base of the butt plug she had taken sitting between her cheeks and pressing out the material of her pants. She had stood back up too quickly for him to be sure but he wondered if she had now taken to wearing it to work. As he sat in her class trying to suppress the erection he was now sporting thanks to his imagination he thought about tomorrow.

It was Friday, which would make tomorrow Saturday, and he had invited Abby to his house in the morning. She was his only female friend and his best friend. She was pretty and had a good body but thanks to her small breasts and weird personality she was as much an outcast as Jack was which was why they were such good friends. Despite her qwirkyness as she liked to call it, she had some how ended up in a relationship with a rather normal guy.

Jack had decided to tell her about the collar. Not only because it was killing him not being able to talk to anyone about it but because he wanted her help on ideas of how to use it. So he got home, went to sleep early and waited for Abby to arrive the next morning which she did exactly on time. It was one of her quirks, always arriving on time and if she was ever early she would wait outside until the exact minute she had agreed to be somewhere, even though Jack would have been happy to let her in earlier.

“Morning,” she chirped cheerfully as she entered his house.

“Morning, want some coffee?” Jack asked redundantly. Abby rarely went without some form of caffeinated drink in her hand.

“Of course,” she replied. He poured her a cup and handed it to her. She took a sip before staring at Jack. “So why the urgent meeting so early in the morning?”

Jack looked at her before answering. She had brown hair with matching brown eyes and intense stare that most people found unnerving but Jack found endearing. Her make up was done flawlessly as always, her eyeliner in perfect wing tips. Jack knew she always did her make up to cover up the few acne scars she had which she hated although, unless she pointed them out, most people wouldn’t be able to see them.

She had on her black denim jacket which was like a second skin, she always had it on. Usually with matching black jeans which today was no exception. Her style seemed a mix of goth meets librarian meets hipster. Jack always thought she could be one of the popular girls if she dressed the part but she wasn’t interested. It was part of why he was best friends with her, she was genuine to a fault. He took a deep breath before telling her why had invited her over.

“I got a gift from my grandfather, a collar,” he started.

“A collar? That’s a weird gift from a family member,” Abby interrupted with a chuckle.

“It’s not just any collar, it’s magical. It makes anyone who wears it my slave for twelve hours,” Jack continued. Abby looked at him before bursting out laughing.

“Good one, what’s next a pair of slippers that let me fly?” She asked sarcastically.

“I’m serious. Here look at it,” he said handing her the collar. She took it and turned it over in her hands.

“Looks like a normal old collar to me, I have loads of similar ones at home,” Abby replied dismissively.

“I swear to you I’m telling the truth,” Jack pressed on.

“How does it work?” Abby asked humoring him.

“I pressed my thumb to the pendant and it bound it to me, then anyone who wears it after that automatically becomes my slave,” he explained.

“What like this?” Abby asked as she pressed her thumb to the pendant. Just as before when Jack had done it the pendant glowed blue and the light wrapped around Abby’s thumb.

“Wait-” Jack began but it was too late.

“Oh wow, neat trick,” Abby exclaimed looking for a light or something hidden in the collar.

“It’s not a trick, it’s now bound to you,” Jack explained.

“What so anyone that wears this now becomes my slave?” Abby asked.

“Yes but only if they put it in willingly and only for twelve hours,” Jack reminded her.

“Put it on then,” Abby grinned holding out the collar.

“Why would I do that?” Jack asked.

“To prove it works. I still don’t believe you so put it in and prove it,” Abby grinned.

“Why do I have to wear it? Why can’t you, that’d prove it too,” Jack argued.

“Because I know you and if I put it on you’d probably just make me some sex slave for twelve hours,” Abby teased. Jack rolled his eyes in dismissal although considering how he had treated Miss Jameson she wasn’t far wrong. Not that he would do that to Abby though, even if he had always had a crush on her she was in a relationship and he respected that.

“Not happening,” Jack replied shaking his head.

“Make you a deal, if you wear it and it works, you’ll be my slave for today but in exchange I’ll wear it tomorrow for you,” Abby offered. Jack paused at that proposal, it would be fun to have Abby under his control for the day and he wasn’t too worried about what Abby would make him do.

“Alright deal, I’ll put it on now and you come back tomorrow and then it’s your turn,” he smiled taking the collar from her. He had been wondering all week how Miss Jameson has felt under the control of the collar and was curious about experiencing it himself, not from any desire to be controlled but just to see what it was like and he couldn’t think of anyone else he would trust to be in control other than Abby.

 

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=89

 

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The case for “shoring” – an experience in Malaysia — Syncretic Politics

In the part of the so-called manosphere that I am engaged in writers and commenters typically discuss PUA, game, and love tourism, but occasionally discussions about prostitution and even sexbots and sex dolls occur. Once a man hits a certain age, he might have a hard time finding young and attractive females while not being […]

via The case for “shoring” – an experience in Malaysia — Syncretic Politics

Another Life – Chapter 8

Stop! This post is NSFW.

But if you’d like to read it you can right here:

 

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=381

 

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