Lustella(sub female) started a forum thread yesterday called "Kinky Game: Story/Line." The goal was to write a creative, sensual story using the a person, a place, and a thing, as chosen by the last person. Check it out.
I had so much fun contributing to it that I decided to post my entry here as well.
For my turn I was to write a story using these:
1. A famous singer
2. A hotel room
3. A wooden paddle
Somehow this is what I came up with:
"Hungarian Goulash seems simple enough to make. Meat... other things. How hard could it be?"
But she had never made it before. In fact, she had never cooked anything, from childhood through a professional career that began ages before there were things like stoves and food. She never had to. She was a famous singer, a Broadway star, a real mensch. She was so well known in the world of stage and screen that she was often referred to by one name only - Barbra!
She performed her sold-out show every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at the Sadist Club in Las Vegas, torturing ticket buyers for the exorbitant fee of $300 per session (a high price considering Celine was handing it out for free over in a dumpster behind a dungeon at the south end of the Strip, known affectionately by the local homeless community as the Slave Shack.) During her off hours Barbra remained secluded in her suite on the top floor of the hotel where she performed so that it would be more difficult for her servants to convey her up and down the stairs to and from the stage.
The show had ended earlier than usual, and Babs was hungry so when she returned to her hotel room she called down to the front desk and asked the insignificant, non-superstar person at the other end of the line if there were any people staying in the hotel who were famous enough to deliver potatoes and paprika and other goulash-y type items to her room, along with someone of equal or greater star power who would gladly pay her for the privilege of preparing her dinner.
As it turned out there were not, but 30-45 minutes later Barbra opened the door to her suite to see a man in a kitchen outfit carrying what she assumed were tools for abusing staff members.
"What are you?" she demanded in a shrill, nasally voice that accosted the ears of the cook so suddenly that it gave him instant tinnitus.
"Greetings Your Holiness Mrs. Barbra, I am a lowly member of the hotel kitchen staff. I have come bearing tomato sauce, noodles, and spices with which to prepare your dinner."
"You are not famous!" she squealed, nearly shattering every window in the building.
"No, but I present for your inspection and approval pots and pans, sharp knives, wooden spoons -"
Seeing the spoons, with wide eyes Barbra whispered, "I know these... they are implements of great power... in my show I strike well-paying peasants with them... Ah, yes, paddles they are..."
Barbra suddenly switched to Diva mode. She snatched the large steel pot from the arms of the cook, emptied the contents onto the floor, grabbed one of the spoons and began jumping up and down on the beds, leaping from one to the other, all the while banging the pot with the spoon while chanting "Paddle, Paddle, Paddle, Paddle!"
When the Hotel manager heard horrible sounds like the cries of dying hyena emanating from the suite on the top floor of the Sadist Club he immediately picked up the phone extended Barbra's contract to 5 nights a week.
