Over in the forums, someone was asking advice on Fuck Machines. So I posted a reply showing what I had built. Although it I thought I had blogged about my finished project with a video showing it in action. But the vid was no where to be seen.
So I took a new one. Yes the stand is really wobbly at the higher speeds, but I am working on that. Still need a full field test to see how it goes:
Helmsman: "Captain! Enemy ship is closing in and our shields are down to 30 percent!"
Captain: <Looking stern and thoughtful> "We better have the ship jump into subspace."
Helmsman: "Aye Captain!" <Presses button>
<nothing happens>
Helmsman: "Captain! The subspace generator is broken!"
Captain: <arches one eyebrow> "Have we tried flogging it first?"
Seems there is a new Kinky Quiz out there. While I tend to put little faith in such things, I decided to give it a shot just the same. Probably the most interesting thing is it not only askes you about your likes and dislikes, but also what you are looking for in a mate. It seemed understand what I am but what I am looking for is much more difficult to put into a few questions.
Just the same, if you should care to try it out:
My results:
You should never say:
"Daddy, I've been a BAD girl"
the proper saying is:
"Father, I have sinned"
What happens in the confessional
stays in the confessional
for now anyways.....
The story started off with a bang, but it isn't going the way it should. I no longer feel any confidence in it. I As a whole, the structure needs work and it really isn't the right season for it. Thank you all for the support you have show in it, but those that love it would not be happy with further chapters. I'll see about redoing it all come closer to Halloween and see if it works better in another direction.
Chapter 3
Jilly exploded with a sigh of relief, as the door to Madam Webb’s office clicked shut. She had just spent an hour and a half explaining why she was so interested in the murder in Dungeon 4C, what everyone called “The Haunted Dungeon”. It was a place no one in the Club wanted to talk about and no one went down there. Very few Club members knew it even existed.
The end result of Jilly’s queries was an order to report to the Head Mistress’ office and the hardest interrogation scene she ever had that didn’t end in a safeword. In the end, Madam Webb thrust a file folder at Jilly and tossed her from the room. Jilly looked down at the tan folder, cradled in her arms to her chest, and gave another sigh.
Most of the information in the folder was screamed at her by the Head Mistress. Dates, times, Police reports, autopsy findings, witness accounts, background material, even burial site for the remains. But most of all, it had a name.
His name.
Jilly bit her lip and held the folder tighter. Standing there in front of Madam Webb’s door, she didn’t know what to do next. “Which is a lie,” she told herself. She knew what she needed to do, but it scared the crap out of her. But that was a lie as well. Jilly knew she was scared but she was excited too. She would get to be with Him again.
Padding barefoot down the long basement hallway, Jilly stopped in front of the cherry stained wood door to Dungeon 4C. In her hand was the key that appeared in the lock after her last time in the room. Her other hand held the tan folder. The only other thing Jilly had with her was a red silk kimono, plain with no decoration.
Jilly went to insert the key to open the door when the lock suddenly snapped back by itself. Smiling, she opened the door and crossed the threshold. As she stepped into the room, Jill could see well enough in the semi darkness to notice things were not the same as she last saw them.
The padded table and other furniture had been pushed back against the walls, leaving the center of the room empty, except for one chair. Still the mirrored wall was uncluttered. It still showed a full reflection of the room before. But something was missing.
He wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Jilly felt a slight panic descend upon her. She needed to talk with him! She needed to tell him things! WHERE WAS HE?!?!? As the panic within her rose, she spun around in circles, trying to see the whole room at once. Jilly knew she could only see Him in the mirror, but desperation stabbed at her. Again and again, she spun, trying to find him when she became dizzy and started to fall.
However, started was as far as she got. Cold, strong arms wrapped around her shoulders and kept her upright. Jilly’s eyes fluttered and stared into the space in front of her. Seeing nothing, she turned her head and looked once again into the mirrored wall. There, she saw herself being supported by Him.
Still wearing his black dress pants and collared shirt, unbuttoned to mid chest, He held her upright, bearing all her weight in his arms. What Jilly noticed most was He was staring at her face while she watched Him in the reflected surface. She could see a longing in His face. Longing for what, she didn’t know.
After some time, He shifted his gaze to up and down her body, making sure she was unhurt. Setting her back on her feet, He too looked into the mirror and locked eyes with her. A wave of His hand at within the refection and the word “Why?” appeared in the center of the wall.
Jilly’s breathing increased. Holding out the folder, she told Him “I have information for you. About you. I have your name and all about who you were.” Then she gulped, saying to Him:
“I also know how you died.”
The Man looked at her from the reflection. His eyes burned with rage and passion. With one hand, He pointed to the floor in front of the chair, with the other. He caused the a word to etch itself mirrored glass.
“Kneel”
Chapter 2
The man in the mirror smiled and Jilly felt the grasping pressure on her wrists and ankles disappear. Suddenly she could move again! Standing straight up, she once looked into the mirror wall and saw the Well-Dressed man standing there, only his arms were crossed in front of him. Jilly almost smirked at Him when he cocked his head to one side and spoke a word she couldn’t hear.
A slight panic came over her. “What? I don’t understand,” Jilly told the reflection. The Man got a slightly exasperated look on his face and slowly mouthed the word again:
“Strip.”
Jilly giggle sighed and followed his command. Stepping back from the table, she began to remove her clothes. Undoing the zipper on her dress allowed it to plunge into a pile around her feet. Jilly’s hands moved to undo the clasp on the front of her bra and arching her back allowed it to fall on the floor. She then slid her hands to her hips and pushed her panties down her legs. As Jilly raised each foot to step out of them, she slipped each shoe off and set them quietly in the pile of clothes.
Finishing His command, Jilly stood straight up, with her hands on her hips saying, “What now, Sir?” As the words barely escaped her lips, Jilly found herself thrown toward the padded table once again. A grip from a ghostly hand seemed to have her by the back of the neck propelled her to the edge of the table. Her head was turned left and then right, so she could see coiled hanks of rope snaking towards her from the rack on opposite racks.
Each of the black braided cotton ropes unraveled itself from the hanks and wound themselves around each wrist. After she was tied, the rope pulled itself taunt and forced Jilly to lay her chest flat on the table. At the same time, she could feel more rope encircling each ankle and her legs being forced apart. The ropes seemed to tie themselves off so she was bound to the edge of the padded table with her tits pressed to the tabletop and her ass sticking out.
Jilly pulled at the ropes as much as she could, but they didn’t budge. Her arms reached out to each end of the table. The pressure kept her flat and the only thing she could move was her head. She managed to turn it so she could once again look into the mirror. When she did, all she could see was herself. The Man had vanished.
“Where are you?” she asked. Jilly moved her head around as much as she could, but didn’t see His reflection anywhere in the mirrored room. She began to wonder if this was really happening, when she felt a pair of hands press against her shoulder blades. It wasn’t a hard press but warm, gentle press forcing her down into the padded tabletop.
Slowly the hands up and down her back. Moving down a bit and then back up to her shoulders. Each time, the hands moved a bit further down her back before they slid up to her shoulders again. Jilly could feel the fingers all together at first, then slowly move apart with each stroke.
She again looked into the mirror and still didn’t see his reflection. But the strokes continued. With a happy sigh, Jilly closed her eyes and lay her head down to continue to enjoy the feeling. Her breathing in rhythm with the slow massage.
Pain suddenly erupted from her right ass cheek. Jilly’s head was dragged back by the hair and was forced to look into the mirror again. The word “Count” appeared all at once.
“One!” Jilly screamed as another smack belted her left ass cheek!
She breathed deeply, to process the pain. It had been so long since Jilly had anyone touch her, much less given her a spanking. His blows hurt but she welcomed each one. The touch was both warm and chilling each time. It was though He needed it as much as she did.
“Two! Please Sir, may I have another?!”
Jilly braced herself, not knowing if He would be appreciative of her efforts. She wanted to follow his lead but wasn't sure how long it had been since He last scened. "How long as He been dead?" Jilly thought to herself as yet another smack creased her ass cheek again.
"Three! Thank you Sir! May I have another?"
Jilly could feel both cheeks starting to burn. But, that wasn't all. Her twat started to leak it's fluid. At first it was a drip or two, but as the smacks increased, so did the flow. While not quite a stream, a puddle grew on the floor between her forcibly streched legs.
The blows continued for some time, so much so Jilly almost lost count of each one. From the beginning, every stroke was a bit harder than the one before. With her brain starting to fog, keeping awake and continuing on was more and more difficult. She didn't know how long it would last. "Should I safeword," Jilly wondered, not sure what The Man's reaction would be.
Closing her eyes again, Jilly felt tears start to flow. She told herself she needed this and that she needed it from Him. Jilly also wanted it for Him. She could almost feel His need to do this. His longing was a taste in her mouth. It was as if He was sweating and His scent filled her senses. Jilly let out a loud sob with her realization.
The blows stopped suddenly.
With the stillness, Jilly again felt her chin gently lifted. Thumbs that couldn't be seen wiped the tears from her face and, Ever to slightly, a kiss was placed on her slightly damp brow. She stared into the space where nothing was seen and said:
"Sixteen. Thank you Sir...."
Then as her words faded into a mumble, Jilly felt her head gently laid upon the padded tabletop and she went to sleep.
When she awoke, she found herself lying on her back on the padded tabletop. Not only was she untied, but she was also fully clothed again. Shoes, dress, bra, panties. Everything. It was like the whole experience was merely a dream. Blinking her eyes, Jilly sat up, turned and swung her legs over the edge of the table.
Pain from her ass caused her to arch her back. Both of her ass cheeks throbbed as she tried to move again. Jilly closed her eyes, processing the agony. When she opened them again, she found herself staring at floor between her legs. There she saw a puddle of liquid Jilly knew was her's.
She also noticed not all the pain came from her ass cheeks. Her wrists and ankles hurt as well. Turning her gaze to each spot, Jilly found rope marks in each place. "Those are going to be some wonderful bruises" she told herself. A slight smile grew on her face.
Jilly looked around and then then shot a glance at the mirror wall. All she could see was the furniture in the room and herself. She didn’t see the Man anywhere in the mirror. Examining the racks, Jilly noticed the ropes were coiled back in their hanks and hanging where they should. Everything was back where it was when she first walked into the room. Everything that is, except for her puddle.
She hopped off the table and attempted to stand. Not very successful at first, Jilly managed to steady herself and slowly walked to the door. This side of the door had the lever on the deadbolt. She flipped it and swung the door open. Walking through and pulling the door closed behind her, Jilly noticed a key in the deadbolt on the outside of the door.
She smiled again as she locked the door and pocketed the key.
Chapter 1
Jilly stood before the long-forgotten door. It stood at the end of a long corridor, in the basement of The Club. No one went down this far anymore. Everyone knew the door and the room it led to exist, but people shied away from it. She was told no one went in because a Dom was murdered there.
The door was like the rest in the corridor. Simple solid wood, stained cherry red. Brass hinges dulled by time and lack of maintenance, glass doorknob covered in a thick coat of dust. The only difference from the other doors was a dead bolt keeping it locked.
Still, Jilly felt something. A calling from the other side of the door. Something, an almost pleading beckoning coming from the other side. Something, or someone was asking to come in.
She placed her hand on the knob, knowing the door would not give. Madam Webb had told Jilly the key to the door had been lost years ago. After the murder, the room was sealed and, in time, the key was lost. Still Jilly twisted the knob and pushed to satisfy her curiosity.
Much to her surprise, the door opened revealed a semi darkened room. Though she knew no one had been inside for year, a few of the lights glowed with a soft luminesce. From the doorway, Jilly could see things that the other playrooms on this level had. Floggers and paddles hung from racks along the walls. A St. Andrew’s cross in a corner, a spanking bench over there, a wall of mirror in the back. And centered in the middle of the room was a long-padded table.
The longing pulled at Jilly as her eyes took it all in. She could not tell if it was her own longing or something else.
Or someone’s else.
With a deep breath, Jilly and allowed herself into the room. The pull was too great for her. She need to be in here. Step by step, her feet padded across the tile floor. Before she knew it, Jilly found herself standing before the padded table. She continued to look around her when she heard a slam and click of a lock.
Turning back to the door, she saw it was closed and knew the locking sound came from the deadbolt. Still, Jilly wasn’t afraid. She felt safe in the room but just didn’t understand what was happening. Placing her hands on the table, Jilly looked around the room, asking “Is someone there?”
No answer came. She closed her eyes and tried to hear the sound of anyone else in the semi darkness. All she could hear was her own breathing. For a good deal of time, Jilly leaned there listening, hoping to hear something but nothing came to her. She wasn’t afraid. Just, really, disappointed.
With a final sigh, she decided to leave. “There isn’t anyting here” Jilly told herself. Just dust, air currents and wishful thinking. As she tried to lean up from the table, had a small problem. She could not move.
It was as if her hands were glued to the table. No matter how much she pulled, they would not move. In trying to get a better stance, Jilly felt as if her feet were bolted to the floor. She was simply stuck where she was. Her breathing increased as panic started to set in. Tear started to moisten her eyes.
It was then Jilly felt a warm touch on her cheek, as if the palm of hand placed itself there. And a feeling of a thumb stroked under her left eye, wiping a tear away. She felt the fingers of the invisible hand slide down her face and cup her chin. Slowly, the hand lifted her head until Jilly found herself looking into the mirror wall.
She not only saw herself and the rest of the room, but a reflection of someone else. Jilly’s eyes took in the image of a tall, well-dressed man. Black dress pants with a red belt and black shoes. His shirt was white as freshly driven snow, sleeves rolled up revealing well-muscled forearms. Jilly also saw one of hands holding the chin of her own reflection.
Her gaze shifted to the man’s face. It was weathered, like he had spent a good deal of time outside. Leathery but in a good fashion. Well-trimmed beard, dark lips closed with a clamped jaw. But it was the eyes that Jilly drank in.
The man had crystal blue eyes that drilled into Jilly through the reflection. Eyes that commanded, and yet pleaded with Jilly. Eyes that burned and asked her a question.
Jilly lifted her chin from the pressure and said, “I don’t understand”.
Suddenly, she felt some pain, as the hair on the back of her head was yanked and twisted so he was forced to look at a corner of the mirror. Slowly, letters appeared as if they were etched in the surface of the reflection. Jilly’s eyes widened as the sentence was completed:
“Do You Consent?”
With realization, Jilly looked down at the table, gulped, and nodded her head. The grasp on the back of her head yanked again and forced her to look once more into the mirror. She saw the man had a frown on his back and was pointing at the words.
Jilly locked eyes with the man in the mirror and told him yes.
With the posting of the original DADT blog post (by a woman who I hungrily lust after), I thought I would give you another perspective.
(No. I'm not saying you can cheat on your spouse. Just fuck off with that.)
I have posted before on the fact I am married and my wife no longer participates in the lifestyle. Do to this, I have spent a good deal of time and effort making contact with submissives in and around my area. As I have also posted, all those efforts have not been affective.
The main cause of in my difficulties is the fact I am married.
Now I have always been honest in this fact. Either through posting on my varied profiles, or mentioning it in conversation, I have never tried to hide this particular fact. However, time and time again I have either been called a liar or just been assumed I am one due to other men being liars on the subject.
I have always understood the submissive's viewpoint and never pressed the issue. But here comes the really funny part: Not one of them has ever thought about or even asked whether they could speak with my wife.
Not
a
single
one
So here is my question: If given the chance, would you talk to a spouse about entering a lifestyle relationship with a married person?
Discuss:
(Disclaimer: This is assuming you would be interested in poly sort of relationship. Not that the spouse would enter into the D/s one)
I often get messages here and on fet asking why I am "unattached". People read my profiles (or at least claim to do so, I'll explain below) and my erotica and see the photos of my toys and gush over it all. Then with the inevitability of an eastward sun comes:
"I can't believe you don't have a sub!"
So this morning I thought I would post a few of my replies to such a statement. Quite frankly, there are a number of reasons, which for one or more of them often eliminates most of the candidates here and other places. So here is a partial list with explanations:
Number 1:
"I'm married"
Now this isn't so much an elimination on my part, but on the part of the candidate. I get the fact that not everyone is into poly, nor should they be. Poly is very ha999rd work and not everyone is equipped with that kind of strength. Add to the fact that most s types want someone of their own, which is also fine. But for Fuck's sake: Read my gawd damn profile! I go to great lengths to point out the fact I am married (now I will mention that I think Cage sucks ass at relationship categories, but I digress), so stop saying you read my profile and then get all shocked at my mentioning my wife.
Number 2:
"I'm Old School"
I got started into the Lifestyle in the mid 90s (before there was a World Wide Web) and back then there pretty much was three categories: Master (Mistress), Dom (Domme) and Top (gender neutral). We had our rules, which were fairly inflexible. We had our Titles, rituals, Protocols and what all. We were simple and it worked. It still works for me today and it is very unlikely it is going to change. It is just the way it is. This isn't a fact I hide from anyone and still there are those that are shocked I work this way. In my world, there isn't many shades of gray when dealing with the lifestyle.
Number 3:
"Age is more than just a number"
This is one that draws a good deal of flack. The fact is I am now 60 years of age and my viewpoint of property is changing with my age. Part of that is being how old the candidate is. I have an range of 45 to about 57. Older than that seems unlikely due to the amount of abuse I am going to dish out (see No. 4) and younger than that is unlikely to have the same meeting of the minds on the lifestyle. A few months back, I attempted to forgo this issue and worked at an attempt with someone almost 20 years younger than I. We grew close and then we hit a goal post conflict and it didn't work out. I should have known better.
Number 4:
"I am a Sadist"
For me, part of being Old School is being an unapologetic Sadist. While I have been called "fucked in the head" a time or two, I have a reason for causing pain. It isn't the pain for the pain's sake or even simply because "I can". It is to see what the s type will give to me. What they are willing to put up with to make me happy. To me, this is all part of the surrender on their part. How much are they willing to suffer to show they are my property. Now accompanying that:
Number 5:
"I love humiliation"
Maybe not all forms but there are a good deal of what I can and will do. From piss play to public showing to name calling, the list can go on and on and on. Now again, this is not for everyone nor should it be. It takes great strength, both mentally and emotionally to put up with this kind of show. Not everyone has that capability.
Number 6:
"I don't want someone new to the Lifestyle"
Going with issue #3: I am simply too old to start training someone with no real time experience in the lifestyle. I think it is grand they want to investigate their needs and wants, but I am no longer interested in starting at ground zero anymore. I'll be happy to give advice and then shoo them on their way, but I need a basis on which to start. Specially in physical traits. No more "masochists" who think hairpulling during a spanking is too much.
Number 7
"Intelligence"
Now this isn't going to go where you think it is. Quite the contrary. I need someone smart. I want someone to make wise choices. Not just someone who can think but someone with emotional intelligence. Someone smarter than me would be great! Someone to keep me on my toes, so to speak. I am not one to get upset if I am told I am wrong and am willing to learn. I don't want a dumbunny or, worse, somone who is unwilling to think. Still worse: someone unwilling to speak their mind.
Conclusion
In reality, there isn't an order of these categories I have listed. They are just here in the way they bubbled out of my little brain. Some days one thing is more important, other days it is something else. Still they are all important to me and is unlikely that is going to change til it is time for my final nap. So take of this what you will and for those that have finished it, I owe you beer for my ranting.
