Tersely Pertinent

   Do you all think this is too weird to send to a perspective subbie or what?

I'm pretty sure this one is for the wrists, but Lowe's was out of the 4.5 inch for the neck. But am going to redo my math to make sure.    Got to wait for the wood I bought to dry off anyway.    First time in weeks with rain.    Dammit!

But at least this should keep your interested until I can get started:

  So I am thinking of working on a new project and doing some rough estimates of to build a set of stocks.

  This includes not only picking the type of wood and type of stain, but doing research into what the average neck and wrist circumference is, but also converting that to inches (American educational system) and then finding the diameter (C=D/π).

Course it now means having to go get a 4.5 inch hole saw

If you are currently have problems logging into facebook, you are not alone!

It seems to be a system wide failure of some sort.   Neither me or any of my friends and family can log into their accounts.

Back before there were comic books, a young reader's imagination was captured by pulp magazines.   Within the painted covers of escapism were the daring dos of various Heroes looking to vanquish the villain of  month and restore order to the world once again...

All for the price of ten cents.

But what did these Heroes do in the off time?    Where did they hang while awaiting the next adventure?

My all time favorite of these Pre-Super Heroes was a man called Doc Savage.    

Now Doc wasn't a very deep character.    He could do no wrong and make very little mistakes.    He had five guys who did all that to keep things interesting.   But he solved the problems and saved world in 181 sagas.

But the coolest thing I found about Doc is he had a secret place in the north artic.   A place where he could do experiments and think and rest.    A place where no one could find him.    A place that was his and his alone.

His Fortress of Solitude.

When sales for Doc's mag dropped off and things moved on, an editor for Simon & Shuster moved over to what is now DC Comics.     With him, this editor brought a good deal of ideas with him and intergraded into the Superman lore.

Including the Fortress of Solitude

But it works.   Clark now had a place where he could rest and relax and do things to get himself centered back again and again.    Because even a Superman gets tired.

So what does this brief history lesson mean?

Because I think we all have a Fortress of Solitude somewhere.   

For some, it is a physical place and others, it is a place within.

Some of us admit where it is, for myself, it is never mentioned because to do so would no longer make it mine. 

I hope you all know where your Fortress is and get to use it when you need it.

(Thank you to the girl with the eyes of shining crystal  for this idea blog post)

  When I opened the door,  there stood the little package I had been expecting.    Five foot, two (maybe three) but in her heels she was five eight.  Long, dark tresses running down her back almost matching the black, short skirted dress she was wearing.   Her crystal blue eyes from behind her long natural lashes.  Those eyes latched on to mine as her cherry red lips said "You Matt?"

I nodded and stepped aside ash she strolled in the apartment like she owned the place.    Her head bopped around looking at the paintings and rug and everything.  She hummed to herself as she looked around.  Me, I just let my eyes run up and down her body.   I could tell she wasn't used to walking in those heels.   She almost fell off them as she walked around.    

She was leaning over the desk looking at some books I had open there when I walked behind her and ran my right hand down the open back of her dress.   The dress was like one of those you see at Oscar night anymore.    Her skin was cool to the touch.

"Not yet, Matt" she said without turning her head.  "We gotta talk payment first."

I dropped two C notes on the desk next to her hand and then put my left hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her down against the desktop.   With a slight explosion of air, she gasped "Rough is going to cost you extra."

Dropping two more C's on next to the first two, I leaned over her back and whispered "You do like it rough don't you?" in her ear.    A slight shutter quivered through her body.   I moved her legs apart with my knee as my hand ran up and down her right leg.   When it didn't move as wide as I wanted, I slapped the side of her thigh with the back of my hand.   She then opened up wide for me.

The scent of musk filled my nostrils and being somewhat surprised, I moved my hand to between her legs.   As two of my fingers slid easily inside, the scent increased.  

"My God," I breathed into her ear, " You are a hungry little cunt, aren't you.   When was your last client?"  I could hear a small whimper escape her as her hands grasped the front edge of the desk.

"Two......two weeks..."  She half moaned to me as I slid a third finger into her gushing twat and ran my thumb around her anus.   

"I guess you are not very good at your job, if it has been two weeks.    But then again, guess that means you can be extra special for me, huh."

Letting go of her back, I grabbed her left hand from the desktop and held her wrist at the small of her back.   Pulling out of now soaking pussy, I shoved my fingers around her head and into her mouth.   "Clean those fingers, cunt."    Sucking sounds came from that side of the desk, as I could feel her lips and tongue  wiping away her juice. 

As she finished her cleaning, I turned her head and laid it down flat on the side so she could see the stack of bills.  Then I leaned down and whispered "It's Party Time."

My hand left her mouth and, again, traveled down her back, leaving a trail of saliva and pussy juice down her spine.   Still holding her left hand at the small of her back,  I used my other to flip up her skirt and rip the barely there G string from her hips.    "Hey!  That was my favorite! "  She complained.  

"If it means that much to you, then here..."  I told her as I reach up with the G string and shoved it in her mouth.    Fishing two my C's out of my pocket, I slapped them on the stack before her eyes.

By this time, my cock was granite hard and wanting to come out to play.    I undid my pants and pulled it to where my balls were on the outside of the zipper.   I pulled her as much toward me as I as thrust myself into her wetness.   

She gasped through the G string as I rammed my hips into her's, over and over.  I wound her hair about my right fist and pulled her head back as I grinded myself deeper and deeper into her.   

In time,I felt her shutter and she orgasumed and then suddenly relaxed.  Letting go of her hair and wrist, I grabbed her hips with both hands and finished my task as I exploded myself into her.     I pulled out of her and staggered slightly to a chair next to the desk.   

Sitting here, I watched her as she regained her strength and turned over on the desk to stare at the ceiling.   She then sat up and wabbled over to me on those ridiculous shoes.    With great concentration, she was able to kneel between my legs and kiss me on the lips.

"Welcome home, Master!  You should not take so long of trips without me." 

Booping her nose, I replied "Silvia, my dear.   That is indeed a fact". 

I am more than willing to show off when the times are appropriate.

However, You all are forewarned about the picture.   I am showing as much as possible and still allow you to continue to digest your last meal.

Abandon Hope, All Ye who Pass Beyond this point!

You were warned!

Yes a picture is worth a thousand words.   Oh but what words!     To connect those words in a style and stir the emotions of the reader is an artform to rival the painter or the sculptor.

They can not bring the smell of the sweat or the crack of the whip to your mind, they can not challenge you as to what happens next when someone begs for more.

Words do more than define us, they lead us down the dark corridors where we do not want to go, they beckon us to cross from the light to the darkness, in the hopes of finding out more about ourselves.

It is a mark of depravity to limit one to a single word description.   We are not the two dimension of a photograph, forever locked in time at a single moment. 

We are lustful and shameful and thoughtful and forgetful

We are strong and yet weak in the knees

Passionate and cold to the touch

Forgiving, yet resentful

and the list goes on......

I refuse to describe any being in one simple word.

To do so would be........

Insanity

  Silvia hated being bent over like that. 

Sure, she thought, I don't mind the stocks with the snug fit around the neck, almost pinching.  And her hands rubbing against the wood as much as her neck.    She just didn't like leaving her ass hanging out there.   

Yes, Matt told her no one was going to walk into the dungeon area of The Club while they were there.    But there was no telling what might happen.   Plus this damn blindfold didn't help!  Silvia shook her head as much she could with frustration, while she loosened up her legs by shaking one while standing on the other.

That is when she felt a hand caress her right ass cheek and then the left.  That feeling disappeared when she  felt fingers lightly brushing her inner thigh.     Slowly up and down.   Each stroke longer than the last.    With the last upsweep, Silvia gasped as the fingers slid deep inside her pussy.    Of course it wasn't a rough fit, as she started dripping from the first touch.

Silva worked her hips as much as she could, to take as much of the hand as she could inside her.   She thought she could feel all four fingers in but was wanting it all!    

"Please fist fuck me!   PLEASE!",  Silvia cried!

That was when the hand left her.    Silvia felt the tears run down her face, as she heard footsteps walk around to the front of the stocks.   Breath warmed her ear as Matt's voice spoke "You are a craven little cunt, aren't you?"

Silvia's head hung as low as it could in the stocks.   "Yes, Sir.   I am a craven little cunt.  I'm sorry, Sir"

Again the warm breath was at her ear, she could almost feel his lips press against it. 

"I'm not.   Open your mouth, cunt"

Silva did as she was told.    Opening her mouth as wide as she could, she could hear Matt walk around in front of her.    She then reared her head back as much as she could in the stocks.   Suddenly Silvia felt a hand in her hair,  pinning the back of her head against the wood.   

Then something pushed into her mouth.   At the same time, her cheeks were covered in a thick subatance.

Something warm. Something creamy.

The word "Sugary" popped into her mind.

Bright light assaulted Silvia's eyes as the blindfold was torn away!   She blinked two or three times for her to get what she was seeing into focus.      That was when she saw the heart shaped cake with one piece missing, sitting on a table before the mirror running the full length of the wall.      In that mirror, Silvia saw her own face covered in red frosting and bits of chocolate cake mixed in.   

She also saw her Master smiling as broad as he could, while holding her head back.   

"Happy Valentine's Day, cunt!"