Yes, Sir

Warning: This Poem is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

“Come here, Kitten.”

I crawled.

Yes, Sir.

“Kneel for me, Kitten.”

I knelt.

Yes, Sir.

“Count for me, Kitten.”

I counted.

Yes, Sir.

“Hold still, Kitten.”

I held.

Yes, Sir.

“Scream for me, Kitten.”

I screamed.

Yes, Sir.

“Dance for me, Kitten.”

I danced.

Yes, Sir.

“Come for me, Kitten.”

I came.

Yes, Sir.

“Wait for me, Kitten.”

I wait.

Yes, Sir.

“Be strong for me, Kitten.”

I am strong.

Yes, Sir.

“Love me, Kitten."

Yes, Sir.

Daddy's Little Girl

Warning: This Story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

***All characters portrayed within are at least 18 years of age.***

Looking down at the table, bubbling with nerves and excitement as I waited for you and Mommy to arrive, I picked at my freshly painted nails. I'd fretted over this meeting, what I was wearing, my hair, my make-up, my clothes, even where I would sit at the table. I had decided to sit with my back to the door. I don't think I could handle just sitting there, watching you two walk across the room towards me.

And so it was when you arrived, head bowed, fidgeting with my hands. I took no notice of the waiter as he came by until he stopped at the table. I felt your hand upon my hair before I had completely looked up, seeking your gaze. By the time I was looking up, Mommy was sliding into the booth opposite and you were leaning over to place a gentle kiss on my forehead, giving my hair an idle stroke as you leave me to take your seat. This one small gesture is enough to bring tears to my eyes. Looking down, I quickly wipe them away, embarrassed but overwhelmed with joy.

Dinner is pleasant, filled with idle conversation, laced with low but strict orders every now and then. I have this bad habit of sitting with my legs crossed in my seat; a habit I picked up at school where I was unable to reach the floor while sitting, and feeling like a fool with my feet simply dangling there, I found the next best position. Unfortunately, sitting like this caused me to hunch, or lean, forward, over the table. So, at random moments you would say, "Sit up" or "Get your feet out the chair.", making me feel all the more like your babygirl, which I'm sure was your intention. But, all the same, it was pleasant.

It was near the end of the meal, before the check was called for, that the excitement rose to the surface again. Soon enough, the check was paid for and we headed out the door, me following close behind you and Mommy.

It had already been determined a week ago the events for the night and roughly for the rest of the weekend, before you and Mommy left Sunday afternoon to go back home. It had taken the three of us a while to decide if we wanted to see a movie before going to the hotel; it took even longer to decide what we would go see. To this day, I don't remember what we saw, only that I sat next to you, Mommy on the other side of you. Thirty minutes into the film, you put your arm around me and pulled me in close. I spent the rest of the movie cuddled next to you, your hand stroking my hair as I rested my cheek upon your chest and experienced the greatest two hours of perfect peace, contentment and love that I had ever known before.

The movie over, the walk back to the car seemed to be like waking from a dream. The drive to the hotel was utterly quiet, filled with an air of excitement felt by all. It filled the small space, wetness seeping between my thighs, a strange warmth spreading through my tummy and my private place, occasionally squeezing my thighs together, enjoying the sensations. Not wanting you both to know, I attempted to squirm undetected and thought I was succeeding until we stopped at a light and I met your gaze and I knew that you knew. Unable to meet your gaze, embarrassed, I looked down at my clasped hands in my lap, re-crossing my legs once more. I hear you laugh, blushing when Mommy asks if I've already been a bad girl. My blush deepens when you answer with an affirmative and Mommy turns around to look at me, tsking. I pass the rest of the ride trying to me as still as possible, a feeling of trepidation flooding my senses, wondering if I would be punished for being a bad girl.

Arriving at the hotel, we grabbed our bags and headed in. Checking in was agony. I felt as if everyone in the room knew exactly what we were doing there. It didn't really matter if they did, but it was just that feeling. The elevator ride was another experience in excited silence. You and Mommy stood opposite me and stared. Just stared at me. I spent my time either glancing back and forth between the two of you, trying to figure out what you were thinking, or staring at my feet, cheeks flaming hot under the scrutiny.

Down the hall and into the room, a thrill going through me when I hear the door close behind us. I set my bag down where you directed and went to find a spot on the carpet out of the way while I watched you and Mommy get settled in. A few moments go by when I suddenly have your full attention. I could hear Mommy setting out things in the bathroom as I looked up at you from the floor.

"Come here babygirl. Come give Daddy a hug." You stand there across the room from as I hurriedly scrable to my feet and rush across the room into your arms, the arms I have longed to feel wrapped around me for what seems like forever now. I began to cry. Held within your loving arms for the first time, I felt I was home and I cried and then I laughed. Tears still wet on my cheeks, a smile upon my lips, I looked up at you. We stand there, in each others embrace, staring at each other. A gentle kiss upon my forehead, withdrawing to look me in the eye before laying a hand on my damp cheek and the best kiss I will ever receive in my life upon my lips.
I say it is the best kiss I will ever receive, and it's true. It was soft, feather-light, blissful. It was the kiss of two people who are just discovering this kind of physically in their relationship. Which, when you think about it, is true of us, too. We're discovering the reality of our relationship and it was perfect. Five seconds of heaven.

It was over when Mommy walked back into the room, stopping right beside us. I needed no prompting from either of you before I was embracing Mommy as well, arms wrapped around her neck, holding her tightly, content to stay right where I am, surrounded by the love of you both.

Mommy started to gently try and pick me off. Giggling, I backed off until none of us were touching, and just stood there, waiting for someone to make the next move. No surprise when it's you. It is surprising that you walk away from us, to the couch in the adjoining room. Naturally, my curiosity is piqued and I follow you, flopping down next to you, feet tucked under, facing you. You stare at me for a moment before saying, "Come here, come sit in Daddy's lap babygirl." Smiling from ear-to-ear, I clamber on up, Mommy taking my place at your side before I was settled in. Your hand around my waist, rubbing gently, you lean over and you and Mommy begin to kiss, gently at first but more passionate as you and Mommy continue. I start to feel that tingle in my private place again as I watch, fascinated by you and Mommy. Mommy lets out a small sound, a groan or something and the tingling gets worse. I can't help but squirm a little. Your hand has moved further down, rubbing my butt now and I begin to wish you would my private place, to help make that feeling more bearable. Mommy's hand touches my thigh at the same time your hand smacks my butt. I yelped and jumped. Yes, it hurt but it was more than that. It hurt but I liked it. It made that warm, fluttering feeling inside better, sweeter. And you knew this, somehow you knew before I did.

"Would you like to kiss Mommy like I just was, babygirl?", you ask me.

Blushing, I look down. Would I like to kiss Mommy like you did? Oh yes, yes I would. I merely nodded.

With a smile on her face, she leaned in closer to me. She was close and I wanted to, but something was holding me back. And then I stopped thinking altogether. Mommy's mouth and mine were suddenly pressed together. She moved her lips against mine and I mimicked her until I came to realize we were kissing just like you and Mommy had been and most of all that my arms were around her neck, my legs on either side of her waist, making strange rocking motions with my hips. That sensation in my private parts had grown and now it seemed to itch, as if begging for attention. And then I saw the look on your face. I'd never seen that look directed towards me before and I didn't know what to do. It almost seemed I cowered against Mommy.
Whimpering in her ear, I ask, "Mommy, why is Daddy looking at me like that?"

"He wants you babygirl.", she pressed a gentle kiss upon my neck, breath tickling my sensitive flesh. I shuddered and blushed. "Do you feel that tingling, that sweet feeling down there, in your tummy, and lower, in your private place?"

Burying my face in Mommy's shoulder, I mumble, "Yes Mommy."

"That is very similar to what Daddy feels right now." With laughter in her voice she adds, "But Daddy's private place is different than ours babygirl. When Daddy gets that feeling it's much more noticeable babygirl."

My curiosity coming to life, I took a peak, trying to see what Mommy meant. You were leaning back, looking at us as if you were watching a great show. I turned away quickly once I met your gaze, knowing I had been caught looking and blushing fiercely. I giggled before looking back again, staring at you, staring at me. It was the smile on your face and the sparkle in your eye that made me do it.

One moment I was plastered to Mommy, the next I was plastered to you. I wrapped my arms and legs around you, the hemline of my pretty blue skirt rising, burying my face in your neck and hair.

"I love you Daddy!" I declared before settling in closer. I froze. "Is that...?"

"Yes babygirl." I swallowed loudly. I attempted to move my hips back, get my private place away from yours. You held fast and wouldn't let go. I struggled then. I liked our private places touching too much. Good girls didn't do things like this.

I felt Mommy's hand on my hair. She must have known what I was thinking, because that's when she told me that everything would be alright, that there was no greater love than that of a Mommy and Daddy and their babygirl. I was soothed and I settled back down. I felt your hands flex and it is then that I realize you have your hands on my butt. I blush as heat rushes through my private place at the feeling of our private places touch and your big, strong hands on my butt. My hips twitched all on their own.

"Mmmm, I like that babygirl. You make me feel good babygirl. How does it make you feel to have Daddy's hands on you, our bodies touching sweeting?" I smiled, proud that I made you feel that way. And then I really thought about how I felt. Mommy's hand stroking my hair while I say in your lap, your hands on my butt, my head on your shoulder, breathing you in as you told me that I make you feel good, surrounded by the love of you and Mommy. And I knew pure, true joy, a peace I had never known. I felt whole, complete, like I was finally right where I belonged. I was home.

I'm not sure, but I think you must have seen exactly what I was thinking displayed clearly on my face. The joy and love on your face took my breath away. I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted. I leaned forward and placed a kiss on your cheek. Pulling back, I watched for your reaction. Looking into your eyes until I can't bear it any longer and my eyes shutter close seconds before my trembling lips met yours. It was soft, a little tentative at first, and just as beautiful as before. And then it all changed. I tried out what I just learned from you and Mommy. I whimpered at the reaction from you. The kisses were wild and as wonderful as before, one hand on my back and one on my butt, clutching me to you.

There was that feeling in my private place again, that itch that I desperately wanted you to relieve. Emboldened, I broke out kiss, placing a hand on the wrist of the hand on my butt to move it to where I wanted as I leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

"Daddy will you touch me in my private place? Please?", as I spoke I gently moved your hand and released it under my skirt, on top of my panties. It seemed like an eternity of me waiting, pleading with my eyes, begging, before the weight of your hand settled against me fully. You ran your hand down between my legs, covering me completely with your hand. I blushed as I realized you must feel the dampness that had soaked my panties. You edged two finger tips under the edge of my panties, sliding through the wetness there.

"Oh you have been bad babygirl, haven't you?" you say as you hold up your fingers and they are shiny with my moisture. You hold out your hand and I watch, bespelled, as Mommy takes your fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean. You pull your fingers free and repeat the process, licking me off your fingers yourself this time.

"Mmmm, you taste delicious babygirl. Daddy would like to taste more of you. What do you think babygirl?"

"Daddy, please, just touch me some more. Touch me. Taste me. Please Daddy."

I didn't have to ask twice. With Mommy's help, my clothes were removed, my panties last, and thrown on the floor where they were soon joined by all of Mommy's clothes. I was set aside for a few moments as Mommy slowly undressed you until you weren't wearing anything but your underwear.

Sitting there quietly, huddled in on myself, trying to hide all of those places that Mommy taught me were never to be seen by any other person but myself and, when I was older, doctors and one day she said I would find a Prince to call my own and I may want to show him. She never told me what to do if I thought you might be my Prince.

You were both looking at me, and I was suddenly very aware of the wetness dripping between my legs. You grabbed my wrist and gently but quickly pulled me back into your lap, legs on either side of you, your private parts making a fascinating distraction between us. Not knowing where to put my hands, I rested them on my thighs.

You traced a line from my cheek down to my chest, pinching at the skin there before teasingly continuing down until I was cradled in the palm of your hand again. You stroked me, fingers playing with the skin there too, drawing little swirling patterns in the moisture. I frowned when you removed your hand but blushed as you licked your fingers clean, groaning once. Returning your hand quickly, you scoop more out and hold out your hand to me, right up to my mouth. I tentively stuck out my tongue my tongue and lick some of your finger. Soon I am licking all over your hand, as a kitty cat would lick up cream. All too soon, you take your hand away. But all is well when you place your hand down there again. But this time is better. This time you stroke me more, parting my flesh and dipping into the hole there. It felt really good. And then I screamed and jumped away. Mommy was right there to hold me.

"What's wrong babygirl? Daddy didn't do anything to hurt you, did he?" Mommy asks as she holds me and rocks me as we stand there, across the room from you. You haven’t moved.

"No Mommy, Daddy didn't hurt me."

"Then what happened babygirl?"

I hesitate a moment longer. "He touched me and it felt so much better than before, but worse at the same time Mommy." I buried my head in her shoulder, shaking.

"Did you touch the baby's clit?" Mommy sounded a little angry. You must have nodded yes because I never heard your replay but Mommy spoke as if you had. "You should know better than that. You can't just go rubbing away at the baby's clit. It's much too sensitive right now."
I'll never know what you were about to say. I asked my question first.

"Mommy, what's a clit?"

That brought her attention back to me.

"Babygirl, it's that place that Daddy touched. This place," she reached between my legs and very lightly put her finger on that spot. That spot that was the center of all those good feelings. My legs started to shake. She removed her hand and held me with both hands. "Shhh, it's ok babygirl. It's perfectly normal to have these reactions. Ok babygirl?"

"Ok Mommy."

"Good girl. Now, I think Daddy would very much like it if his babygirl would go sit with him again."

"Ok Mommy."

We returned to the couch. I sat in your lap again, legs to one side this time. Embarrassed, I give you a hug and a kiss before apologizing. "I'm sorry Daddy. I shouldn't have screamed and ran from you. It was just too much Daddy." I squirmed in your lap.

Hugging me to you and giving me a kiss on the top of my head, "I know babygirl. I knew I should have been very gentle and I wasn't, that's how bad I want you babygirl. You like to continue now?"
"
Yes Daddy." I lean back into your arm at your guidance and spread my legs wide apart. Another thing that Mommy told me never to do. I guess we were breaking lots of rules tonight. You stroked me everywhere but that one place, my clit, and I sighed in relief but was also kind of disappointed. I rested my head on your shoulder, breathing against your neck. My breathing was getting heavy, kind of like when I would play outside, chasing flutterbies in the yard and I was squirming more now. One of your fingers was moving in and out of my hole when you stopped and repositioned me so I was leaning against the couch so you could use that hand on me. Mommy was laying back, legs spread wide, wider than mine, her own hands buried between her thighs, playing with herself. You shoved her hands away and roughly put two fingers inside of Mommy. All the way in. By the way Mommy was reacting, it must have felt really good. I wanted to know exactly how that felt. I spread my legs wider, like Mommy, hoping the movement would catch your attention. When that didn't work, I tried squirming. That didn't work. By now, you were putting your fingers into Mommy very hard and fast and then I saw you rub her clit. Mommy's hips jerked and she cried out. I moaned, wanting to know what she was feeling. I still didn't have your attention. I felt a surge of envy and just asked.

"Daddy! Daddy please touch me, touch me like you are touching Mommy. Please Daddy!" I'm breathing hard again, as if I had been running. Your looking into my eyes, searching for something. I'm not sure what for, but whatever it was it is your seem to find it.

"It's going to hurt a little at first babygirl. Just relax and breath deep and even, ok?"

I nod, "Yes daddy. Just," I pause to calm the butterflies in my tummy, "please Daddy. Let me know what it feels like." Without another word, one of your fingers is very slowly sliding into me. You never stopped with Mommy and now you get us in the same rhythm. Soft and slow and sweet, but getting faster and harder. I was panting now and squirming and whimpering. That feeling was building between my thighs and I didn't know how much more I would be able to take before I exploded from holding all of it inside of me. It was getting to be too much now, two fingers buried deep in Mommy as she squirmed around and cried out loudly. You were also rubbing her clit. Right then, Mommy's whole body went stiff and tense and she screamed as her hips began to twitch twice as much as before and harder. I could feel in through you and the couch. You never stopped moving your finger in and out of me. It felt so good but it was beginning to hurt now. It was almost a sweet feeling but one of really needing to go to the bathroom. Right when I had opened my mouth to beg you to stop, your finger flicked across my clit.

It was like a dam had burst. All the breath just wooshed out, my body tensed and then my hips were moving on your finger, against my control. I was screaming, and crying, as my body just kept clenching and unclenching on your finger. It felt like it would never end, that sweet agony.
But then it did. My body slumped against the couch and partly your body. I was all sweaty and panting really hard, like I had just raced some of the neighborhood boys. You gently stroked my leg. I had completely missed you pulling your finger out of my hole.

"Babygirl, how do you feel sweety?" you as me in low, gentle tones. I try to answer but end up coughing instead. You and Mommy laugh as I give a thumbs up to say, as best as I could, that I was fine, though. I was more than fine. I was amazing. I was so happy. I was content. I yawned. I was tired. Mommy giggled when I yawned. It seems that she has a quicker recovery time than I do. I later found out that was because Mommy is older and has more experience with having an orgasm. I later found out that is what it is called, too.

After my yawn you carried me to the bed and set me in the middle. You crawled on and I cuddled in close, a Daddy's Girl to the core, with Mommy cuddling in close behind me, holding me tight. I fell asleep like that. That's how I woke up, too. I'm not sure how long I took my nap for, it couldn't have been all that long though. You and Mommy were still awake, hand idly petting my body. Feeling like a little kitty, I rolled over onto my back and stretched, fingers and toes outstretched towards the ceiling. Looking over at Mommy, I gave her a kiss on the tip of her nose and turned and gave you a kiss on the nose, too. Smiling, I said a simple, "Hi!" to fill the silence. I giggled at just saying "Hi!" until I saw the look on your face. This time I knew what it meant. And we had the rest of the weekend to explore all of our private places.

My joy and happiness filling me up so suddenly, I flung myself at you, arms around your neck, kissing you long and hard. Pulling back, I looked into your eyes, and announcing, "I love you!" I started giggling again, which immediately stopped when that look returned. I smiled. Ok, now I was ready for the rest of the weekend and my education to continue.

Forest Nuptial

The wind whispered in the trees. Sunlight streamed through, painting the world with dappled green light. The sound of a nearby stream mingled with the bird song from above. The sound of tiny-winged fey flitting from mound to mound, performing last minute duties for their masters before the ceremony, filled the air constantly until it became one with the stream and birds. It became the most beautiful of musics. It would have been peaceful if I weren't so anxious.

I spotted Andais' honey-colored skin and blue, green and brown spotted wings fluttering ever closer, slowed slightly by the gown trailing behind.

"I'm sorry, Lothlórien, please don't be mad. Niceven wouldn't give me the gown!" I could tell she was not lying by the measure of squeak in her voice. Her voice had lost the magic all the winged ones had.

"Little one, all will be well, as soon as Lady Rozenwyn get her gown. We shall discuss this matter tomorrow with Niceven. Now, go. Prepare yourself for the ceremony." It sounded harsh, even to me, but we were late and Her Ladyship would hate most to be late on this day.

With dress in hand, I started back to Rozenwyn's palace. The palace was one of the most magnificent creations in the history of faery, in my opinion. It was formed of the tiniest twigs and the finest moss. It was all high towers, spacious rooms. It was even rumored to have secret passageways leading to hidden worlds. We may never know. The only things we do know are that the palace is held together by sheer force of will and the most ancient of magics. It is pure art. The art of nature, of magic, of all that is faery.

I must have been staring because I came back to myself with Rozenwyn screaming at me using some very un-feylike language, more human, and vulgar enough to make even the militia blush. I stepped up to the door, placed my left hand to it, pushed a small piece of my magic into the wardings and the double door swung inward.

Upstairs, in her bedchamber, Rozenwyn sat facing the Rain Drop mirror as her ever present handmaidens wove blue morning glories, preserved by magic, into her long, brown hair. She looked beautiful and she didn't even have the gown on yet.

The gown was pale green, a green so light it would look white to a human. It complimented the brown skin that peeked through where the spider silk was woven thin. She turned to look me in the eyes and the force of her lilac gaze made my breath catch. "My Lady, you look amazing."

"I do, don't I?" she asked, giggling slightly. She never giggled. I guess getting married will do that to a girl.

"Yes, My Lady, you do. Shall we go, you really don't want to be late again, do you? You never know when there will be another day like this." I was taunting her and she knew it but it got us out and into the procession line.

Rozenwyn wore her white ceremonial cloak, hood up, to hold with tradition. We walked slowly to the mouth of the stream, the waterfall. The sunlight streamed through the trees, illuminating The Rock. It was the largest rock this side of the stream. It was cleansed, consecrated and protected by the power of out most beloved Goddess.

A small flock of winged ones flew over and removed the cloak. Rozenwyn stepped up to The Rock and the High Priest who was to perform the ceremony. As we waited for the groom party, the winged ones sang lightly in their high, bell-like voices. The snap of a twig alerted us to the presence of the men.

Onilwyn was at the head of the procession, just has Rozenwyn had been the head of hers. He was dressed in a loose tunic cut from the same spider silk as Rozenwyn’s gown, and would later be joined with her gown to form his new cloak. Although, on her it emphasized her skin, on him the fabric emphasized his eyes. They were the exact color of the lunar moth. His curling blond hair was held by a thin gold circlet. He left his men to stand with Rozenwyn and the priest and the ceremony began. We were half-way through the ceremony when something changed. When something went very wrong.

Humans! Three human men came tromping through the trees opposite of us, in the other bank. There was complete silence from us, including, for once, the winged ones. A voice of reason in the madness! Maybe they wouldn't! Please, dear Goddess, don't let them destroy it all!

"Yes, Jim, you were right. This would be the perfect spot to build Plantation Mills. We'll dam up this stream and blow out these rocks, clear out the trees. It'll be great!"

Dam our stream! Blow out our rocks! Clear out our trees! The nerve of these...these...these HUMANS was outrageous! How dare they?! How DARE they?!

"Bob, I don't know. Look at those butterflies! I've never seen anything like it. They could be a new species or even an endangered one. We can't just kill them."

A voice of reason in the madness! Maybe they wouldn't! Please, dear Goddess, don't let them destroy it all!

"Carl, get a grip. They're just damn bugs. This is the only place left, we have to buy this land. We have a deadline. Bob, we'll come by tomorrow after the papers are signed and start clearing."

The humans froze in mid-step. My twin brother, Lothor, must have stopped mortal time. Our militia appeared to have arrived from training in the nick of time, so to speak. I spotted Lothor and he gave me a nod and a smile before he went back to work. It must be hard to hold back the “hands of time”, as the humans would say.

The moment the humans were frozen, the nine council members gathered together. We waited. Onilwyn rejoined his men and they melded into the guard surrounding us all now. Onilwyn is a captain in the faery army. He was released a week early from training when the news was sent that he was to be married today. Rozenwyn was being held in the arms of three handmaidens. She shed three tears, three roses sprouted and blossomed. This was her third try at marrying him. It might not ever happen now.

Fifteen minutes later, the council called for Azazeal and Usna. Azazeal is known for having the power of opening the veils between our world and the mortal world, along with the ability to wield our most powerful weapon, Mortal Death. Any wound caused by this blade would kill any creature, sidhe or mortal. Very scary weapon. Usna carried only two note-worthy powers. He could transform himself into a leopard and he can change any objects size, large or small.

Azazeal parted the veils and Usna shrunk the men to the size of the winged ones. The only sound was the trickle of water and Lothor’s exhale when he relinquished his hold on time.

Council Member Adair was the first to speak. “Welcome to the Land of Faery. You have been brought here to be made to pay for your interruption of our ceremony and the talk of making war against us and our land. How plead you?” Her voice was dripping with disdain and extreme distaste.

“Please, my name is Carl-”

“We know EXACTLY who you are. Now get on with it.” I had never heard her like this.

“Please, I meant you know harm. I’ll do anything, anything! Please! You have to believe me!” He dropped to his knees and begged.

Council Member Nicca asked the other two men, “What do you have to say for yourselves?” They didn’t answer. Nicca repeated the question. They stood as if struck dumb. And maybe they were. Humans are such simple creatures after all. And we’ll never know. Council Member Nerys sentenced them to death.




Those who were not there wonder why the men were punished so harshly but for those of us that were there, we understand. The thought of what they were going to, was terrifying.

Barinthus, the Commander of the Faery army, and Azazeal, with Mortal Death unsheathed, led the two men farther down the stream. The bodies were never found.

Rozenwyn and Onilwyn did, in fact, marry after two more tries and they live together in “The Palace”. The magic is beginning to fade. Two weeks ago a twig fell off the North Tower. The failing magic worries me but the Council says it is nothing. I will trust their good judgment.

Oh! I almost forgot. Carl was allowed to remain in faery, the size of the winged ones, until he died a year later. According to Andais, he actually married Siobhan, her cousin. The Council forbade them to have any children.


The sunlight still streams through the trees, dappling everything green. The wind blows, the birds sing, the stream flows on and the sound of the winged fey fluttering by or singing a bell-like tune still melds together like the most beautiful music. It is peaceful.

Pronunciation Guide
Men
1) Azazeal: as-a-ZEAL
2) Barinthus: BA-rinth-US
3) Lothor: LOW-thor
4) Nicca: NICK-uh
5) Onilwyn: ON-ill-win
6) Usna: OOSH-na
Female
1) Adair: a-DARE
2) Andais: ON-dee-ay-us
3) Lothlórien: loth-LORE-ee-an
4) Nerys: NER-is
5) Niceven: NIS-ah-ven
6) Rozenwyn: roh-ZEN-win
7) Siobhan: SHE-a-vin

Master and His KItten: The Weekend Part 3

Warning: This Chapter is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

Her excitement dwindled when she thought about sharing her time with Master with Stephanie. It was the last thing she had anticipated. She picked up the pace again when she felt his hand on the back of her neck, winding in her hair, urging her forward. Without stopping to say a word, Master guided his kitten right past Stephanie, expecting her to follow into the office, confusion warring on her pretty features.

Motioning the two girls into the appropriate room, he kept walking. Taking their assigned desks, they waited in silence, knowing it was expected of them to remain silent. Disobedience was not an option, he would be able to hear them if they tried to speak, even if they whispered. They knew; they’d tried on more than occasion.

After a few more moments of the insufferable waiting, Master came back in, black bag in hand. Drawing out a blindfold, he strode towards his kitten, watching the way her facial expression changed as he wrapped it around and her world was plunged into darkness. Asking her to stand, he then guided her to stand in the center of the room, where she would have known the hooks were, if she could see. Telling Stephanie to get up and to quickly undress her, she was going to see a wonderful display of the rewards of a good little girls’ behavior. Kneeling, she started with her boots, standing to strip her submissive friend of her mesh, and much to Master’s and his kitten’s dismay, gently peeled the tape from her beautifully pierced nipples. Getting into the game a bit, she slowly trailed her hand down her stomach, embracing her to work her hand into the back of the skirt, slowly teasing down the zipper as she softly exhaled on her neck and shoulder. Releasing the skirt so it fell to a pool at her feet, Stephanie stood back to admire the luscious form before her. Placing her hands on her hips, hooking into the band of her garters, dragging them down to the floor with her, coaxing the thigh-highs down her legs.

“Thank you Stephanie. You may return to your seat now,” Master ordered, smiling as they both jumped at the reminder that he was still in the room. Establishing his dominance over the situation again, Master came forward, explaining to his kitten that he wanted her to focus completely on what was happening to her body before placing the headphones over her ears, submerging her in Tchaikovsky. Tying her wrists together with rope, connecting them to the hook in the ceiling and the reward began.

Master strode back to his desk and the toy bag. Reaching in, he began laying out all the toys on the desk in front of Stephanie, letting her get a good look at everything that was to be used on her friend. Master smiled, delighted in Stephanie’s muted gasps when she saw a few of the instruments that were to be used for her friend’s torment. But his kitten was immune to all of this, lost in the flow of the violin playing in her ears, her body slowly settling into the bondage, the muscles releasing the tension slowly until she was just standing there, relaxed, all the anticipation no longer visible in her outward appearance.

She was deep in the dips and flows of the music when she felt the hand caressing her exposed throat. She jumped and released a small moan, a whimper, when his finger tips slid around her throat. Her knees grew weak when she felt the pressure on her neck, the glorious constriction, the struggle to breath. His lips were upon her then, as his hands roamed her back, teasing her, as if his caresses were small sips of water given to a parched man. Like that man, she begged; she begged for more, for the sharp slaps of his hand spanking her pretty ass, the sting of the flogger’s tails following that, bringing a lovely flush to her thighs. She begged for his harsh slaps to rain down on her breasts, her wet cunt, her face even. She begged him until she felt him leave her. She feel silent then, afraid that she had upset him and that he was then going to give Stephanie her own lesson while she remained tied there, naked and helpless. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks.

She jumped when she felt his hand roughly grab her jaw, digging in until she had to open her mouth wide to alleviate some of the pain. Suddenly her mouth was filled with some cloth, cries silenced immediately as she tried to accommodate the gag and the sudden dryness. She sniffled a few times, tears continuing to drip down her face. Where was he she wondered, flexing her hands as if reaching for him, expecting him to be there. He was not, of course and she whimpered in despair.

Stephanie’s eyes are wide as she watches the seduction of her best friend. She had known the details of their relationship but had never seen such an obvious display of it. She sat there, rigidly, as she stared in shock. Master used this lapse in her attention to pick up the next toy and sauntered up to her. Her breathing had calmed and she let out a little gasp as she felt a soft materiel caress her skin. It was a mitten of some sort, she could feel his hand on the other side as the soft, feather light materiel passed over her breasts, sailing over her mons and teasing down her legs, the crease where her legs and ass met and then around again to lightly tease her breasts. He moved to her throat, teasing her, knowing that her neck is one of her favorite hot spots, wanting her to think that he was about to choke her pretty neck. He released her and quickly slapped her cheek with his other hand, bringing a gasp and a moan from deep within her. She squeezed her thighs together to try and relieve some of the ache between her legs. He walked away, back to the desk and Stephanie, blushing and breathing a little heavy now.

He wasn’t gone long. Stephanie watched with a little confusion as he picked up a length of string from the desk and quickly slapped his kittens breasts, causing them to move violently, painfully, causing his kitten to cry out. Ah, music to his ears! He stepped in close to her, almost touching her and she breathed deeply and evenly, his breath tickling her extra-sensitive skin while he tied two loops in the string, occasionally letting the string touch her randomly as he did so. She didn’t understand what was happening, and yet she know that every touch was deliberate. She felt his hands on her right nipple then, pinching and twisting, working it into a small, hard nub before pinching it and pulling it away from her body, slipping the loop around it, and tugging it tightly so that her nipple was already turning a nice shade of purple. He then repeated the process on the other nipple. She was breathing deeply, trying to focus on only that when he added the weights.

She screamed around her gag. She struggled against her bonds, trying to arch back, anything to get those weights to stop pulling on her sore nipples. As magnificent as her struggle was, Master looked away to look at Stephanie, to gauge her reaction. The little minx had her hand down her pants, playing with herself as she watched. Master was going to have none of that. He ordered her to stop. She did not. At this blatant show of disrespect he dragged her from her chair and ordered her to strip her jeans and panties off. When she refused, he did it for her.

Trembling in fear and arousal, she refused to bend over the desk. “You have been a very bad girl. You were supposed to watch and that is all. No one gave you permission to touch yourself. For this gross indiscretion, you will be punished as I see fit,” and as he finished, he pushed her face down to the table. He ran his hand up and down the backs of her thighs, across her buttocks. She whimpered in her own helplessness. He hand reached between her legs and felt the wetness there and tsked at her when she stomped her foot. With one hand on the back of her neck holding her down, Master’s hand went back and landed with a ferocious smack. His kitten had found some middle ground with the weights and was standing still and she jumped when she heard the dull thud that managed to make it through the music still flooding her senses. After she heard five more thuds, she figured that Stephanie was being punished and a growl escaped her throat in jealousy before she could stop it. She listened for the next blow, but never heard it.

Master had heard her growl and stood in a stunned silence as he continued to hold the no longer struggling Stephanie down. He had known that she had jealousy issues but had yet to see his kitten get truly jealous. It pleased him and yet greatly distressed him that she became this jealous of such a little thing. His attention was again back on his kitten where it needed to be and he was a little grateful for his kittens little scene. Telling Stephanie to sit down on her bare ass, Master takes up a candle and digs his lighter out of his pocket. Walking up to his kitten, he tugged on one of the weights, just to hear her moan. Taking hold of the string tightly in his hand, he quickly tugged the string and the attached weights off. He massaged her sore breasts and nipples as she screamed, muffled by the gag. He waited until she had regained a little composure and was standing relatively still before he flicked the lighter and held the flame close enough to her pretty nipples that could feel the heat. She began to pant in anticipation.

Master and His Kitten: The Weekend Part 2

Warning: This Chapter is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

Guiding his kitten into the shower, putting his hand over her eyes, he tilted her head back to wet her hair. Breath catching in her throat, deepening as Masters' fingers stroked through her wet hair. She giggled as he shampooed and conditioned her hair, gently rinsing it before lathering up the wash rag. Starting at her shoulders and working his way down her arms, teasing her tiny hands, before gliding back up and swiftly caressing her breasts, being careful not to catch the rings there with the cloth. Whimpering in need, she arched into his hand, trying to keep him there and almost falling to her knees when his cloth covered hand cupped her pussy. Teasing her, Master kneaded her skin, roughly playing with her VCH piercing, working it until she was shamelessly humping his hand, seconds away from cumming. Evil smirk on his face, he released his kitten to raise one of her legs to wash it while trying to avoid the smoldering heated look that was in her eyes. He repeated the motions with the other leg.

Turning her to face the spray, he soaped up her back and buttocks. As her turned her to face him again, he playfully swatted her ass before he placed the wash rag in her tiny hands. Rinsing it out and re-lathering it, she moved so that Master would be under the streams of slowly cooling water. Bathing his chest paying special attention to his nipples before she got down on her knees to wash his legs. Turning him so that she could get his back, pressing herself against him as she slid to her knees, waiting for him to turn to face her. Her breath caught as she was faced by his erect cock.

Masters' cock was beautiful; long and thick and pulsing so hard for her right there. She could already taste it, remembering all the times before. Licking her lips, she dropped the cloth as she bent forward to take his cock into her hungry mouth again. Licking the head, tasting the salty taste of his pre-cum, she moaned and started really going down on him like the cock slut that she is. Moaning like a whore, she took him in deep until he was hitting the back of her throat, gagging her beautifully. Masters breathing had changed, was deeper now, and coming faster, almost a pant. Suddenly, his hands were wound painfully in her hair, roughly fucking her throat until he held her there, lips pressed to his skin, as he erupted in her mouth and down her throat. She was gagging on it, struggling to breath when he finally released her and shoved her away from him. She lay there, crumpled on the shower floor, as he turned off the water and got out.

She lay there, panting, throat sore, as she listened to him towel off. The curtain drew back and he was there pulling her to her feet, helping her step out and onto the slippery tile. Gently patting her down and towel drying her hair, he helped his pretty kitten come back to herself.

Brushing her hair back off her shoulder, he stood in front of her, and Master wrapped his arms around her. Leaning down, he gave her a feather-light kiss on her shoulder before whispering, "You did really good just now kitten. Now, lets get you dressed and ready to go."

Excitement bubbled within her once more as she giggled and followed him into the closet. He turned and frowned at her watching him look through the clothes. "Why don't you go back and sit on the bed and wait for me?" he asked her. When she didn't answer and just continued to watch him, he ordered her. "Go on, be a good slave and wait outside for me or you'll stay here and won't go out this weekend." The threat of being cooped up in the house while he went out and had fun, possibly with other women, was enough to send her scrambling across the room to her designated kneeling spot next to her large pet bed.

A few minutes later Master came back into the room dressed in a red button down, jeans and his favorite boots, her own boots in one hand and a bundle of black cloth in the other. He threw it on the bed as he past, glancing at her as he headed toward the door. "Be dressed and ready in 10 minutes. You'll know what make-up to wear." And then he was gone. She heard him descend the stairs as she wearily looked back at the bundle on the bed.

Ten minutes later she was racing down the steps. She felt terribly exposed in the outfit Master had chosen but she refused to disappoint him by voicing her complaints. She was wearing nothing but strips of tape covering her nipples under her long-sleeved black hooded mesh shirt. Around her hips she had on a heavy black and white plaid skirt that felt like it would fall off any moment and had removable bondage straps. Beneath this she had on only garters and ripped and torn fishnet thigh highs that led the eye down to her 4 inch heeled boots. With her hair in two braids framing her face, eyes thickly lined with black, lips painted a deep burgundy she knew she looked like a gothic slut and she only wished that she knew exactly where Master was taking her dressed like that.

He was waiting for her by the front door, keys in hand. Joy sparkling in his eyes he guided his very excited kitten out the door and to the truck.

Sitting with her back to the door, one leg in the seat so that she was completely exposed to Master, as was required of her always, she alternated from watching her Master to watching their surroundings curiously, wondering where they were headed. She was a little confused when she realized they were going in the direction of the mall until they turned down the street to Masters' office and she saw the Volkswagen parked in front of his office building, that cute little red head in jeans and barely there top leaning against the car. For a few months now, Master and his kitten had met with her friend Stephanie here at his office for lessons. Once inside the classroom, she stopped being his kitten and he Master. He became Teacher and she the Teacher's Pet. And they were starting the weekend off with a lesson with Stephanie.

Master and His Kitten: The Weekend Part 1

Warning: This Chapter is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

She saw his car pull up the drive from her bedroom window. She quickly signed off of her instant messenger, not even giving a second thought to the people that she just abruptly and rudely left. She raced down the stairs and had barely managed to get in position when she heard his keys in the door. Breath quickening, she looks down, the picture of submission by the front door.

"Hey there kitten. Did you have a good day today?" He took his coat off and was walking away from her, headed towards the living room. Knowing he expected her to follow, she crawled after him until she was resting on her knees at his feet again. He had draped his coat over the end of the couch, loosened his tie and was looking down at her with a smile and a mischievous look in his eye.

"Yes, Master, I had a good day today. I got up shortly after you left for work this morning, had my chores finished by 11 and I spent the rest of the day, after I called for your permission, reading and talking to friends online. Would you like me to get you something to drink Master?"

He continued to look down at her, his expression changing. Unable to read that look she began to feel a little apprehensive about what this weekend would hold for them. Master had been hinting at something big for a few weeks now and she had tried her best to not linger on the possibilities. That look brought it all to the forefront of her thoughts.

"I think I would like the last of the bottle from last night kitten," he finally told her.

"Yes Master. Right away."

Quickly standing up and heading into the kitchen, she poured Master the last of the wine. Her thoughts were racing, thinking about all the fun and naughty things Master might have planned for her. Were they going to the cabin in the mountains? Were they staying in? Would they go into downtown, go to a few clubs? Would Masters friends, her Uncles be coming over? She smiled when she thought about Masters friends. When she first met Master she had knew that she would be Masters' toy, to do with as he pleased, and she knew that there was certainly the possibility that he would share her around. She just didn't anticipate how she felt about them all. She loved Master and she loved her Uncles.

With a smile on her 18-year-old face, she softly padded over to where Master was sitting, head back, eyes closed as if sleeping. Kneeling again, she waiting, cradling the wine glass in her hand. Seconds, and then minuets ticked. Without opening his eyes, Master reached his hand out and she lifted the glass to it, leaving her hands out-stretched, waiting for him to return it to her hands. When he didn't return it, she lowered her hands to her thighs, assuming the position "present". It was her favorite position. Being on her knees combined with the joy she felt when Master, or her Uncles, looked at her when she presented all of herself to him.

"You're very pretty there kitten but I am going to have to regretfully have to ask you to get up and go on up and get a shower, unless you would like to wait for me. But I know how you enjoy having hot water for your showers. What do you want to do? This will be one of the last decisions you get to make for the rest of the weekend."

She looked down, thinking. She didn't want to be selfish and take all the hot water, as she was wont to do, but she also didn't want to make too light of the offer he gave her. And then she had a thought. A devious thought.

"Master, would you be willing to hear out my idea of a compromise on the matter, so that neither one of us has to take a cold shower?" She couldn't keep the hope and longing out of her voice. How could he resist her when she asked so sweetly?

"Sure, kitten, what's your suggestion?" He sat back, taking another sip of wine, already knowing what she had in mind.

"Well, as neither one of us wants to take a cold shower, perhaps...maybe...we could shower together?" She was blushing and she had no idea why. It wasn't like they hadn't showered before.

Downing the rest of the wine, he looked like he was considering it when he was really thinking about whether they had time for the potential for the distraction that would cause. After a few more minuets deliberation, he smiled at her and she beamed at him and giggled.

"Alright kitten, lets go on. We don't want to be late for what I have planned now do we?"

Scrambling up from the floor and racing ahead of him, up the stairs she called back down to him, "No Master, definitely not."

He laughed when he reached the bathroom. She already had the water running and was testing it for the right temperature. She stood there, naked, excitement evident on her face. He began to unbutton his shirt, watching her, watch him. Half-way down he wondered why he was undressing himself. He stopped, hands falling to his waist. She looked at him, a little confused, before she remembered that it was her job to undress Master.

Quickly, she bounced up to him and while looking up at him from under her lashes, she finished unbuttoning his shirt, fingers brushing the edge of his pants before she reached up to slide the shirt from his shoulders. Pulling it down his arms, she followed it down, until she was kneeling eye-level with Masters crotch. Licking her lips, she unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, revealing his boxers and the bulge growing within. She let his pants fall to the ground and helped him step out of them before removing his shoes and socks. She glanced up at him, looking him in the eye when she reaches up and slowly pulls his boxers down, revealing his long, hard cock. Glancing down at it, she couldn't help but moan and wrap her lips around him, taking him all the way in, down her throat. She loved having her Masters cock in her mouth.

Master let out a strangled moan before he buried a hand in her hair and pulled her off of him. Whimpering, she looked up at him with a hurt look in her eyes. "Don't be in such a hurry kitten. I don't want to cum yet. Besides, we still have the shower and tonight and all weekend."

She smiled up at him lovingly, "Yes Master."

The Fantasy

Warning: This Story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

My ass is in the air, completely exposed from my protruding clit, to my ass, offering myself to you. My arms are bound together from wrists to elbow, supporting my weight, my head resting there gently as I try to remember to take deep, even breaths. I jump as I feel the heat from your hand spanking my ass. Juices are bubbling, running down my thighs and slowly working its way to my stomach.

Squirming, trying not to break position, your hand quickly glides from my clit, dipping, but only a little bit, into my hot cunt before stopping at my anus, massaging, rubbing and finally pressing in just a bit to tease before your hand retreats completely. I am gasping and whimpering, back arched, quivering thighs, throbbing clit when you wind my hair around your fist and simultaneously tug while you shove a finger in my ass. Whimpering in need, I thrust back, meeting your finger, basking in the pain and pleasure of the sensation. I want more. I need more. I beg.

“Sir, please. Please give me more, please Sir.” I’m fucking myself on your finger, using my body and my words. Suddenly you remove your finger and I experience the feeling of loss, of emptiness. Whimpering, I instantly stop moving, realizing my mistake. You wait, wondering if I will do it again. I do not and for the first time you speak.

“Do you understand what you did wrong, little girl?” you ask as you absent-mindedly stroke my spine as one would a pet. I nod, “Yes Sir”.

“What did you do?” Swallowing hard, I shakily reply, “I spoke out of turn Sir. I begged you when I should have enjoyed what you offered me”. A light smack on the ass is my reward, “Very good girl.” I yet again fight to hold position as I squirm.

Whimpering I wait. I am breathing deeply, slowly, focusing. Focusing on my breathing, on my body and what you’ve done to it. I am not a thinking individual anymore. My thoughts are all on you, on what you do to me. And all I am doing is waiting, expectantly. I’ve been waiting for so long; the first touch on my calf makes me jump and clench up. Relaxing, the arch in my back deepens as I renew my offering. Silently begging you to take me. You glide your fingers through the wetness bubbling from deep within my cunt before you swiftly shove your finger in to the hilt, stretching and filling me, painfully pleasuring me. Whimpering and whining at the feelings, the intense feelings, that I am experiencing, my body tense, not moving, covered in a light coating of sweat. You chuckle before you start to finger-fuck my ass. Short, gasping breaths before I inform you of my impending orgasm.

“Sir,” gasp, “I think,” gasp, “that I,” gasp, “am,” gasp, “close to coming,” pant, “Sir!”

“You will cum when I count down to one from five. Not before. Do you understand, little girl?” Your administrations get rougher and faster, the hot burning in my ass sending me so close to the edge. I am unable to form words. I think it, “Yes Sir” but despite what it might seem like, you really aren’t psychic. “Do you understand?” you commandingly question once again, pulling back hard on my thick hair. I struggle to focus, to choke out hoarsely, “Yes Sir, I understand, Sir.”

“Good girl!” you softly reply before you reward me.

You slowly pull your finger out, “Five.” You slam it back home, “Four.” I whimper and moan and wish for more. “Three,” you slowly, languorously pull out again as I feel the wave of my orgasm beginning to rise towards its peak. “Two”, you slam back in, with a second finger now, drawing a scream from deep within me. I need to cum. I’m ready to cum. I’m shaking; my whole body is shaking, waiting for you. Waiting for your commanding voice to utter that one, small word. One. Small. Word. I’m poised, listening so hard I am afraid I won’t hear it over the sound of my own breathing, my heartbeat. I focus once more, short, shallow breaths. The sweet burn in my ass distracting me, helping to arouse my flooded cunt even more until I no longer where the juices stop and the sweat be-

“One.”

I am thrown into ecstasy. I know nothing. I am a slave to the pleasure. My body is its playground and I know no rational thought. I am floating on a cloud in the middle of the storm. I feel euphoric. Electrified. It is only now that I feel I am truly worthy of you.

Coming back to myself, I open my eyes, not remembering closing them, still gasping for breath, dripping in sweat. My throat is sore from screaming and I can’t help but cough a little, trying to dislodge the feeling. You unwind yourself from my hair and gently pull out from my ass, eliciting a moan from me and the involuntary thrust of my hips back onto your fingers. Laughing, you leave the room. My breathing as calmed considerably and I apparently drift to sleep as I am awakened a few moments later by a gentle shake to the shoulder before you place a glass of water to my lips and help me drink it down.

Not long after, I discover that the water wasn’t the only thing you brought in with you. The toy is purple and seems to be made of….I’m not sure what. It looks like rubber. Eight inches long and about an inch and half thick, is had five ribs and a small flare at the end. A butt plug. You know how I like anal play, obviously, and you want to use the plug in me before you fuck my ass, claiming my anal cherry. My breathing has already picked up, ass high in the air again, pussy pulsing, still flowing like a river. I gasp as I feel the cool sensation of the foreign object on my skin, tensing as you push, hard, past that tight ring of muscles. The pain and pleasure is blinding as you shove it in past all five ribs. I scream. The ache in my shoulders, the numbness in my fingers, have both been washed away in an intense wave of pain and pleasure. The burning, the stretching. I’m close, I’m so close. I’m quivering, waiting, shivering on the precipice and then I feel it retreat and slam back into me. Slow at first and then faster and faster. The lines between the pain and pleasure have been blurred. I hear, “Five”, and I realize that I have been muttering the state of arousal and that I am four words away from coming. You pull the toy all the way out. “Four” and you slam it back in. “Three” and you repeat once more. This time you pull it out and ram into me with your cock. Thrust. “Two” Crying out, my hips thrusting back to meet yours. Increasing your thrusts, your fist wraps around my hair again, pulling me into as close to doggy-style as my bound arms will allow. Thrust after thrust, my body is tense, on the edge, barely able to hold myself back, waiting, hardly breathing. “One.” My prayers are answered. My orgasm is so fierce, pulsing and squeezing. I am floating in screaming, euphoric bliss before I pass out….

I awake wrapped in a blanket, my arms are now released from their ropes, nestled in your arms.

Springtime: Part 1

Warning: This Story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

Springtime. The flannel sheets come off the bed and the silk replaces it. Windows open to let in the breeze. Curtains open wide to let in the light I've blocked out during the colder months. With these visible changes comes the not so visible shit in my libido.

I once wrote last spring of my sexuality being tied to the spring. This is proving true again this spring too.

I've always had an active imagination. Now, this is getting ridiculous. I'm wet and ready all the time now. My fingers and clit are sore from my exertions. Even now I wish my hands were buried between my thighs, even though I am surrounded by my classmates, most of whom I used to go to church with. The thought of masturbating, here, in the middle of the classroom, has me growing hotter, wetter, even though it must be sixty degrees in here.

Kili, the cute little red-head in the seat to my right, has her legs parted, feet resting on the grate below the next desk. She's wearing a short skirt, another thing I love about spring, that has ridden up a few extra inches, her pale, freckled thighs bared to my eyes. My eyes move up to the juncture between those long, shapely legs, wondering. Wondering what she has hidden between those thighs of hers. Is she shaved? What kind of underwear is she wearing? Is she wearing underwear at all? What does she look like? Is she pink? Or is she darker? Are her lips small? Or are they bigger, like mine? What does she taste like?

Somehow, with all this questions circling through my mind, my gaze drifted up to the side of her neck. She has a tattoo there. A flower. A tiger-lily I think. The petals curve around her neck, teasing, leading my eyes to her short hair; her short, flame-red hair gently caressing her neck. Making me want to lick her just before I sink my teeth into her neck. What would she do? Would she moan or whimper? Would she beg for more? Or would she take control? Would she turn my head and sink her teeth and nails into me? Would she make me moan? Whimper? Beg? Or would she just turn and smack me when I first breathed upon her neck, preparing to nibble on her.

Training: The Beginning

Chapter not complete, will finish adding and editing as soon as I can

Sex with Stephan sucked. We were so wrong for each other. Oh well, we just needed new slaves. For some reason, we seemed to run through slaves like a person goes through toilet paper. Stephan and I were horrible at sex together. We are both dominants. Fighting over every move you make in bed without permission from your partner quickly becomes tiring and kills the mood in the snap of a finger.

It had been about a month since both of the last of our individual harem's moved on. We needed new slaves. We needed them now.

* * * * * * * * * *

I watched his three choosen ones from the window of my office. It was a good thing I owned this club. If not, it could have taken weeks, if not months, to find new girls to train. And the sooner i can help him get them trained, the sooner I can get my self-made list of candidates started.

Thoughts of my own novices set my own wheels turning, eyes calmly searching the crowd for my boys. Each one was at their own peek of perfection. I couldn't wait to have each one of them on their knees before me, begging to lick my boots.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sipping my congac I watched my wife studying the customers. She was beautiful. Her full, round breasts nearly overflowed from the cups of her electric green leather corset. The rest of her dominatrix ensamble was black leather. Her nails were the same green as the tempting top. Hair that was black as night and like a river almost to mid-calf was now artfully streaked with the green that I knew took hours to apply and would be gone by opening tomorrow night. But the best part were the contacts.

Don't get me wrong. My wife is hot any way you strip her. But I can just see her spread beneath my body, glistening with sweat, lips parted, staring at me through electric green cat eyes, mewling her pleasure. The thought had me instantly hard and I struggled to rearrange myself, to dig my zipper out of my cock.

* * * * * * * * * *

Movement in my husbands corner of the room drew my attention. He is an amazing specimen. His hard, muscled body, encased in leather, heavy combat boots giving him another two inches of unnecessary height, cat-o'-nine-tails in his hand, obdient slave at his feet, all starred in many of my fantasies. Amung other things.

Looking at him now, I could tell why he was moving into the crowd of dancing club goers. He got himself all hot and bothered. And from the looks of it, his leather pants were making it extremely incomfortable. Serves him right. He probably got carried away thinking about his new little gaggle of harem girls.

Snorting, I turned away from the window. Heading for the bar and my new supply of vodka, there was a knock on the door. Angry at the interruption, I grabbed a whip from the wall before opening the door.

Training: Prologue

The sound of discipline surrounded us. Whips moving in tandem together. Slaves at our feet screaming, begging for more. Worshipping at our feet.

This is what being us was all about. In this town, if you wanted this lifestyle, you went through us first. You need to be punished, whipped, abused, owned? Then that's what you'll get from us. We hold nothing back. We are your trainers. We are your Lord and Lady, we are your God and Goddess.

The Histories: The Meeting

Chapter not complete, will finish adding and editing as soon as I can

We were meeting at the designated spot at midnight. The air was cold as I huddled in my little skirt and corsete outfit. There was a slight breeze when I heard the first hint of his approaching footsteps. Body clenching, I dropped to my knees as the dominating, powerful wave of the most primal male energy of this world hit me as his seven foot six in frame stepped out of the trees into the clearing.

Acheron slowly walked towards me. I shivered, but no longer from the cold. With every step of his biker boots I felt the ground beneath me quake. Kneeling, arms at my sides, head bowed, his boots came into view first. We remained that way for what seemed like a few human lifetimes before he slowly went down on one knee before me. I smiled on the inside. He acknowledged that we were on equal ground. It was a major step for him.

Acheron, Atlantean god of fate, among other things, was my equal in power. And to tell the truth, everything else as well. He is my lover, but never my only lover. We are both too old to be the only one to each other. Especially when that bitch Artemis thinks she owns him. We were the first beings to walk this Earth. We watched the cavemen discover the mystical power of the fire we gave them. We watched as civilization arose, and then fell. They were so primitive and yet, they were more sophisticated than the humans of this day. In those days, they were so naivé. But I got bored with their simplicity, and then I revealed us to them.

I miss those days. They knew we were real. They saw the proof of our realities. They were so close to us genetically, they could actually feel our power, and with my help, or in truth, my permission, they could harness small parts of our powers, of the natural magic in their surroundings, of the world around them. They had direct connection to us.

The power corrupted Acheron and me. We got carried away, as did the people. One human disaster and the spread of the population of the island of Atlantis, and I wiped clean the minds of the people. They remembered nothing of us, but our temples and relics remained. They created new pantheons based on the vague depictions and myths scattered around the world of us. Their complete and utter belief in what they interpreted from these small clues eventually brought these new gods and goddesses from nothing. The people created them. Their beliefs fueled the process, empowered them.

They molded their shapes and forms, who they were, how they thought. They were exactly what they wanted them to be. They were abominations of I ever saw one. And Acheron let it happen; as the god of fate, he let them come in and ruin us. The civilization of the world started with the Atlanteans, Acheron's and mine direct descendents. They were sophisticated, but power hungry in nature now. Their weapons advanced as their own off-spring started attacking them on the island. Their gods had too much of the power now. They were out of control and Acheron couldn't fix it anymore. It was much too late for him to stop the destruction of our people, the beings we had nurtured and taught all the secrets of the power of our world, of our divine selves.

Atlantis disappeared beneath the ocean, never to be seen by the living human eye. All the advancements of our first creations, lost. It was one of the most devastating events in my long memory. I still see the horror of it in my dreams.

Master and Slave

Warning: This Story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

I waited. I was kneeling by the front door, naked, head down, legs spread slightly, hand clasped behind my back. My body ached. I had been kneeling for five hours. Master had left instruction for me to wait. To do my chores and then wait. So I waited.

My legs, arms and neck ached, the muscles in my legs and arms quivered uncontrollably. They screamed at me to move. My breath was coming hard and fast. Despite the pain, my body was wet, dripping down my thighs.

The clock down the hall chimed the hour, one o’clock. My pulse raced. Master would wither be home for lunch in a few minutes or in another four hours. The clock ticked and I strained to listen for the car to pull up the drive. I had just given up hoping when I heard the car. My breath caught in my chest when I heard a door slam, followed by the sound of Master’s boots on the steps leading up to the door, the familiar jingle of his keys. My eyes closed, waiting.

The door opened, and He walked in. Keeping my head bowed, as ordered, I only saw His boots and part of the gray slacks I had ironed yesterday. Waiting for Him to acknowledge me, my arms and legs stilled. My whole body waited for His voice.

“My pet, how are you today?”, He asked as He set His keys on the hall table. I did not speak, nor move. I continued to wait. “Good, my pet. After yesterday festivities I expected you speak." There was a pause. "You may speak now.”. I wanted to look up at Him. “Thank you Sir. I am well today Sir. May I inquire as to how you have been today, my Master?”. He laughed before His knees and thighs came into view. Fingers gently touched my chin, raising my head to meet the gaze of His beautiful honey-brown eyes. I smiled and blushed, the feeling of love welling up inside me. He leaned forward and kissed me. My Master’s mouth was pure heaven. I moaned just from the chaste kiss he placed upon my lips.

“Can you stand my pet?”, He whispered softly in my ear. His hand was running soothingly down my back, His other gripping my arm. I honestly didn’t think I would be able to stand on my own for days. But that is not something that you say to your Master. " I can only try for you Master," I managed to whisper, I shifted to raise my leg in preperation to stand. My legs quivered and shook. I knew I wouldn't be able to support myself without assistance. I tried none-the-less. I clenched my teeth and all my breath wooshed out in a hiss as my body was assailed with intense pain.

Leaning forward unil His lips touched my ear, He whispered, "You've only been my slave for three days Belle, it's alright for you to admit to the pain. Or to ask for help." I finally stop holding back and feel the pain. And before I could stopped myself I was crying, on my ass, huddeled in on myself. I couln't think, I could barely breath. It must have only been a few minutes that I sat there like that, but it felt like hours. Slowly, the tears subsided, leaving me feeling weak and my face damp. Without warnign, His arms were around me, holding me gently. Then there was the sensation of the cool air caressing my skin as he lifted me and carried my limp body down the hallway, to the back of the house, to Master's, or should I say our?, bedroom. Holding me gently with one hand, He pulled back the black silk comforter before setting me down on my side on top of the cool silk and feather-soft pillows. I closed my eyes and moaned softly as peace and love enveloped me.

I felt the bed dip behind me. I smiled, knowing that He was coming in from behind to hold me. He pulled the duvet cover over is both before wrapping His arms around me, His Armani suit caressing my still naked flesh. I move my lower extremities away from His, not wanting to stain the suit with the juices still seeping from my underused and underfucked cunt. His grip on me tightens and He angrly asks as to why I moved away from Him. Once I explain, His hand immediatly seeks my pussy and glides through the wetness before even nearing my pussy.

Chuckeling, He praises me. " So pain does equal pleasure for you, my little whore? That's very good then." His fingers close aroung my nipple and squeezes and twists and pulls until I cry out and beg for Him to stop, for the love of the Gods to please stop! Amazingly, he complies.

" I do not have to return to work today, my pet. If I asked you what you wanted to do today, not as Master and slave, but as the couple that we are, what would you wish to do?" I thought about it long and hard before I answered. "I would ask that we stay in this bed, just like this, maybe with your clothes off and slept," I yawned, "I truly wish to sleep." I closed my eyes and snuggled in closer. He kissed my neck and whispered, "Then so it shall be."

As I was drifting off to sleep, I uttered one simple phrase, "I love you Nathaniel" and not knowing if He heard me or not, let sleep overwhelm me. Maybe I dreamed it, I'll never know, but I beleive Master replied. "I love you too, my pet."

I Am Not A Good Person

Warning: This Story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

Love can be a many splendid thing, or it can be a painful memory of the past. I fight constantly to not let the memories flood my soul. Sometimes, not so often, I can't keep them at bay.

This last time was so bad. Both me and my ex have moved on, he's even got a baby boy on the way. And as much as I would love to call her a whore, I can't this time. I've seen her. She's very pretty. And she's already better then I was, she's having their baby. She's going to have their baby when I couldn't, was too afraid to do it. I envy her. I was meant to be her. But I'm not and I curse myself every damn day for it.

My current love, Timothy, has a 3-year-old neice. He told me today that she fell asleep in his arms. He then proceeded to tell me, rather excitedly, that he wants to have a baby. He realized his mistake in saying this to me. But it no longer mattered if he said that he didn't mean now but later. The seed had been planted and the memories grew from behind my barricade. I made an excuse and logged off the computer. It was a good 2 1/2 hours later when I lost control and I slipped.

I figured that I would have a 2 1/2, almost, 3-year-old running around right now. I imagined 'her' (I always think of a girl) and how beautiful she would be. I thought of how my life would be different if I had kept 'her' (still a 'her').

"I wouldn't have had a job this summer....Well, maybe I would have. 'She' could have gone with me to 'her' great-grandmothers'. Grandma and Grandpa would have been happy to babysit 'her' while I worked. Of course, I would have only worked part-time, like Linda, to spend time with 'her'."

Then there were no more words as I pictured a morning of this. It's 6 o'clock in the morning and 'she' is already waking me up. 'Her' beautiful face the first thing I see when i wake up, as 'she' is the most absolutly sleeping in that bed with me. The image flashes to a new one.

Me brushing 'her' hair out of 'her' face while 'she' begins to eat the bowl of ceral I just placed in front of 'her'. The kitchen bathed in a pale blue as the sum rises. I look up to the doorway and see Grandpa standing there, ready to drive me into work. I bend down and motherly tell 'her' to be good girl and to not make a big mess, to wait for Oma ('her' great-grandmother) to wake up. Thent he very last bit changes.

I am turning on the t.v. for 'her', turning the volume down low. The image changes again, but only slightly.

Some time has passed, the house is bathed in early morning sunshine. Grandma is walking our of her bedroom and is shocked to see me 'daughter' quietly watching t.v., thouroughly not expecting anyone to be in the living room.

All of this I see from the same spot in the kitchen, behind 'her' chair. There are some things wrong with all of that. One being the fact that if that was real, we wouldn't have left 'her' at home. 'She' would have come along for the 10-15 minute ride to the Vet Clinic with us. Another thing, we would make sure Grandma was getting up, so 'she' would not be unsupervised at any length of time. Yet another thing, Grandpa would have been back at the house and would have been with 'her' the whole time.

Some other things I've been thinking while I wrote this. On the days that Linda worked too, 'she' could have been down at Linda's with Parker and his babysitter, my favorite cousin, Morgan. (As long as she didn't charge me.)

Also, as some of you readers know, I got my darling puppy, Rusty, from 2 of the clients from the Vet Clinic. On the day they gave me Rusty, (Yes, I said gave. They gave me a pure-bred, $600 Shi-Tzu on the basis that he would need a MAYBE $200 surgery to fix a minor eye condition) they made up all kind of excuses to not give him to me. I have a sneaky suspiscion that if I had had a baby at the time, they would have used that has an excuse, saying that I either already had enough responsibility or that I was too irresponsible.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that a dog is better than a child, but he is what I have.

By the way, I particularly like the fact that my ex, who would have been 'her' father, was not in my fantasy. Interesting thought.
I
n short, this, all of this, the fact that 'she' doesn't exsist, is most likely the reason why I feel the way I do. I am not a good person. I do not look like one and I do not feel like one.




I just want my baby.

The Love of My Life

Warning: This Story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

He wasn't perfect, my Timothy. He didn't have long hair or the piercings that I so love on a guy. And, no, he obviously isn't an emo god. But I love him all the same. He was my first slave, the first to come to me. Of course, he's not the only one of my slaves now. Over the years I've gathered quite a few slaves. All boys, all pale-skinned, all black-haired, save for Frost, all with an assortment of piercings and/or tattoos, all bisexuals. And most definitely ALL mine. All gorgeous and completely at ease with their adoration of moi, their Mistress.

There is Matthew. With his hazel eyes, emo-styled black hair, size 5/8" plugs in his ears, his plump, pouting lips pierced twice on his bottom lip, his belly button (completly adorable on an emo-vegan guy like my Matthew, by the way) and the final two located low on his abdomen, high on his hips that I gave him a year ago. At 5ft, 7 in., he towered over me. Though I may be his Mistress, I absolutly loved it when he, or any of the others, for that mattee looked down at me with his lust-filled, needful, pleading eyes. Matthew came to me about seven months after Timothy officially became mine.

I am their Mistress but all of my boys hold a special place in my heart. And though we do act as a Mistress with her harem of slaves, we spend equal amounts of time as a women surrounded by men who love her and each other. But I digress.

Third to join my ranks was Frost of the white mohawk. If I let myself, I could get lost in his green eyes. You could see his soul in his eyes, which was an interesting concept when talking about a man who had served two tours in Iraq. He also came to me with his nipples pierced, a military tattoo and one tattoo that is decidedly not military. Elaborately tattooed across his shoulder blades is the word "slave". He told me that it was ordered done by his ex-Master, who then enlisted him in the military. Frost does have some interesting tales to tell of what some of his fellow soldiers did to him due to the tattoo. The best time, I have to admit, was when I walked into my apartment to see Frost on his knees, head and shoulders on the floor before him, hands holding his cheeks apart, begging all my guys sitting on the couch in facing him to use him, hard. It was a gorgeous sight to behold. At the time, I had four slaves, not including him. They were all sitting there, mouths slightly open, breathing ragged, each holding the hand of the other as to not touch their own cocks, per my orders. It also appeared as if someone had given each one of them a blowjob as they were all wet and glistening, leaking pre-cum. There was no telling if they had cum or not. They were all hard and ready. As I looked the boys on the couch over, I heard a moan from Frost at the same time Zackery threw his head back. I turned to see what Frost had done to cause him to moan like that and saw that he was forcing a hot pink butt plug in his tight little ass. Desire tore through me as I strutted over to him, placed my booted heal over his hand and the base of the plug and roughly shoved the rest in. He was crying out in complete ecstasy even as I ripped him open. He was shuddering and........Forgive me. I think I have gotten a bit carried away. I didn't mean to go into an almost play-by-play of that night. Back to my boys.

Evan was an accidental discovery. As a childhood friend of Matthew's, he came over to the apartment a good many times. Out of respect for Matthew's wishes, when Evan came over, we would all drop the Mistress/slave thing. Matthew wanted Evan. We all could tell, and once he confessed to us his affection for him, Timothy made it happen. One night, Evan had too much to drink, thanks to my little boy toy continuing to fill his glass, and Evan ended up bunking with Matthew. Bunking naked with Matthew. As he always fantasized, he woke him with a morning blowjob and a finger probing against his "virgin" ass. One thing lead to another and much to Matthew's surprise, I let them date. Three months later, I ordered him to tell Evan the truth about who he was, our relationship and his preferred lifestyle. Much to our surprise, the next day, he came to the apartment with a man named Daniel.

Daniel was Evan's Master. We sent the boys to go play amongst themselves. We talked. I asked if he would consider passing ownership of Evan to me. He admitted to me that he had acquired far too many to house any more. He was worried for what would happen once he became mine. I would then be responsible for five people, myself included. Once he learned that I was the proud owner of Guilty Pleasures and the only sex shop on town, Cerulean Sins, he brought out the papers and he signed over all rights to Evan to me. Don't get me wrong. He's not literally a possession, but in our world, to be safe, the slaves sign consent forms and ownership papers, for legal reasons and so that other Masters/Mistresses could not claim someone else's slaves.

So, Evan moved into Matthew's room. They shared a bed, the shower, but they were not allowed full sex for nearly a year. I enjoyed their frustration and how well they tag teamed me when it was their night with me.

It was one new apartment and two years after Evan before I acquired my other three slaves, Zackery, Eero, and Ash.

Zackery had been the underage junky that lived in our back alley. We only learned of his age when he confronted me and the boys on our way out one night. Somehow he found out that I was the Belle Morte, the owner of Guilty Pleasures and Cerulean Sins. For safeties measure, we exited out of our building through the back alley. We were all dressed in our leather and metal finery when he came stumbling up to me. He stuttered, trembled and quaked in his metaphorical boots. He begged me to hire him as a dancer at the club. Now, this boy had been living in the alley for a few months now, but I never got a good look at him until now. If I had, I may have helped him sooner. Vaguely interesting in his request, I gave him a close look over, walking a slow circle around him, looking him up and down while Matthew giggled quietly at the wasted shell of the person before us. Timothy watched me, trying to gauge my reaction. Zackery's hair was a matted mess, his arms had puncture wounds and scars from years of using and abuse, he was barely clothed and he stank of some of the world's worst unmentionable things. You could smell the fear just roiling off his body. Each soft step of my boots made him jump, he was wringing his hands together so hard, I feared he would rub his skin raw and his eyes were dilated and bloodshot. I stopped in front of him and just stared. After a few moments, he looked down at me, hiding behind his hair, eyes a little watery, full of sorrow. I raised his head up straight with my thumb and forefinger on his chin. When I softly told him that I couldn't have a junky working in my club a single tear ran down his cheek and he dropped to his knees before me and cried and rocked back and forth. I thought as I stared down at him, seemingly unmoved. Matthew had long since stopped giggling. I snapped once and Timothy, well trained that he is, automatically stepped up behind my left shoulder. I quietly instructed him to take the boy upstairs, clean him up and then arrange for him to get the best rehab money can buy, to tell him that I might still have a job for him once he got himself cleaned up. The two of the walked up and we went to the car. Six months later, the familiar face of my once ex-boyfriend Zackery appeared at our apartment door, accompanied by those of Eero, Zackery's rehab boyfriend and their occasional lover and rehab buddy, Ash.

Eero was the only one who got hired to work in Guilty Pleasures. He is a gorgeous specimen of male perfection. He is built, and has a Jacob's Ladder. I highly recommend to every girl out there that you fuck a guy with a Jacob's Ladder. It is a-fucking-mazing. And in his costumes, all the women and men can tell that he has it and it has made him quite a lot of money. Or, it would if he ever saw any of the money.

Zackery and Ash I put to work in Cerulean Sins, behind the counter and in the dressing rooms. Well, for Ash at least Zackery, as punishment for breaking my heart years ago, is only allowed to work the till and he hardly ever receives attention from me.

Ash has long black hair, hair halfway down his back and genuinely black eyes, extremely pale skin and the largest cock and most skilled tongue of all my men. The tip of his large cock is pierced, as well as his belly button and left eyebrow. Tattooed on his cock is my name, because his cock will always be mine.

They are all mine. They will always be mine. Unless they one day decide otherwise. In that case, I will release them. Forever. If they ever choose to leave me, they can never return. Ever. They only have one chance. And that is why they will most likely always be with me.

Even though I love them all and each one of them resides in their own special dark place in my heart, Timothy is my favorite. He is the one that is bound and gagged on the bed next to me as I write this, teasing him with random caresses from my black cashmere robe, the occasional touch of my foot on his calf, keeping us both primed and ready.

I will never forget the day when he submitted to me completely. The feeling of power and pride was like an adrenaline rush. It was the most incredible thing I have ever felt emotionally. The knowledge of the power I had was daunting but that only excited me more. Timothy and I have been lying in this bed naked for the past two hours now. I'm really horny and hot and wet. I am going to fuck his brains out now. I am going to whip him as I do it. I am going to make him bleed. I am going to take out my emotional confusion on his flesh. And when I am sated, I will roll in the blood on his chest, lick it up and covered in blood, I am going to ask my slave, my Timothy, to become my husband.

Untitled: Lothor

Warning: This Chapter is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

The last few days it had grown cold long before sunset. I could feel the end. THE end. The end of my life. The end of all our lives. The feeling of impending doom increased with every second.

We had been running for three months and only now did we start to lose this game of cat and mouse. I was beginning to believe that the only reason we made it this far was by magical assistance. Only question was, who was crazy enough to help us?

The arm around my waist tightened, bringing my attention back to the god whose warmth was draped across my body like living fur and the softest of velvets. For some reason, after the last attack, I became unable to keep my own body temperature above seventy-five degrees. So, for the time being, I was "stuck" with at least one guard watching over my body personally while the other had to stand guard over the two of us. I didn't mind in the least. Really. I didn't. More time with the most gorgeous sidhe of the past few thousand years or more? What self-respecting girl wouldn't swoon at the thought?

I rolled until I could glimpse a flash of pale blue eyes, like the sky on a cold winter day, before they disappeared behind a curtain of waist length black hair. Lothor was the gentlest of the guards. He was all soft lines and feather light caresses. He was just....soft. Even his voice was low and non-threatening. Probably the only thing that had kept him alive all these years. At times he seems to disappear. For being thousands of years old, he was a baby. He doesn't know anything about strategy or court politics. He was a liability in "negotiations" and it never helped that he looked to be only 18 years old in human years. The only thing about him that wasn't soft the majority of the time were his eyes. They were the only thing about him that remind others of what his powers had once been. They were blue. But not just a regular blue but the blue of a warm, clear summers day and then the next they would be the storm-cloud blue. Lothor had once been worshipped as a god of storms but like the others, he lost his powers as the people stopped believing. He was also the only one of my guards, other than Amatheon, who still goes by his/her original name. He is also the only one of the Egyptians left not in hiding, or so I had been told. All of this I had been informed of when I returned to the courts, about six months before, before the war broke out, and I inherited my royal birth right of my own guards.

His grip tightened again, drawing me into his body until my face was buried in the bend of his neck, my breasts pressed to his chest, his cock trapped against our stomachs. Even under that small touch he began to grow, showing just how much he enjoyed being with me. The hand on my back began to rub up and down. More soothing than erotic. His other arm reached from under me to stroke my hair. The intimacy of the actions were too much. I was undone. I wrapped my arms and legs around his body and clung. I gave into my fear and I squeezed harder.

"My Lady, it is fine. We are all fine. Nothing can harm you so long as you trust us to protect you," he whispered, barely audible over the rush of the blood pounding in my ears. Lies. It was all lies. None of us were safe. As long as the Queen hunted us, we would never be safe. Her warriors had nearly killed me just a few days before. I knew first hand that no matter how fast we ran, we would never be safe until either I was dead, or she was.

Still, it was comforting to hear him say it. It made me nostalgic for the good ol' days. It also gave me more cause to fear for him.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me 'my lady'?" I managed to keep all traces of fear from my voice and to make light of the situation.

He laughed gently.

"I am sorry, m'lady," he said, still laughing.

"You're hopeless, you know that?" I was smiling as I said it, but I realized too late that the question was enough to kill the light and joking air I had woven around us. My arms and legs had begun to loosen up from around his waist and neck until we were gently holding each other.

"Belle, I am sorry. Forgive me, but for the last 547 years of your life I was required to address you by title only. It is just going to take some time getting used to." He sighed, hugging me to his body. "We served the Queen for over 1,500 years. We were never allowed to use her Goddess given name."

There was at least a million things left unsaid between me and my guards regarding the Queen. This was one of them, being enslaved to her for the majority of their lives. All I really knew is that they hated her in their own special ways and they were at her beck and call, their magic was her magic. The most beautiful and powerful men and women in the history of our people and she chose to ignore them. She only payed them attention when she needed them to kill someone or when she was feeling particularly nasty and needed someone to torture who had no choice in the matter. I know what you're thinking, didn't she at least have sex with them? No. She only takes humans. Even worse than that, she forced the guards to watch. Sad, I know. The Queen had always been known as sadistic, that was just another way to show it.

My legs had long since slid off his body, so we were just lying, facing each other, one of my arms under his body, high on his back, the other resting low on his hip. One of his hands mirrored mine with the other under my head, stretched out under my pillow.

I raised my hand and moved a lock of hair out of his face. There was a glittering of unshed tears in eyes the color of the sky before a storm. It made my heart hurt to see that abused look in his eyes. I wanted to chase that look from his eyes. I had to. I leaned forward the last inch until my lips brushed his. He made a sound low in his throat, a moan more animal than human. The kiss went from being just a gentle brush of lips to something more, something much, much more. He kissed me with such bruising force I had no choice but to either open my mouth to his or cut my lips on my own teeth. I opened to him. He kissed me with not just his lips, but with his tongue and teeth, as if he was feeding from my mouth. It was shocking and vaguely intriguing. He was my gentlest lover, the least dominate but you wouldn't think so by how he was behaving now. It was exciting and a little frightening.

He used his one arm and the rest of his body to pin me to the bed. He used both of his hands to hold my wrists above my head. He raised up on one elbow and gazed down at me with lightening flashing in his eyes. i was efficiently "tied up" and my heart was racing with excitement.

There was a look in his eyes. That dark look all men get when they know that you wont say no. But there was something else there too. Uncertainty. I wanted to chase that look away as well. I bent one of my legs at the knee, and the moment his body brushed the front of mine, my fertility magic rose and the look vanished. Replaced only by that dark light.

He shifted his hips slightly and the tip of his head brushed over the spot. That spot. My breath caught in my throat. He heard it and did it over and over again until I began to feel it. It was as if my body were a cup and each time he rubbed that spot, one more drop of pleasure filled that cup. His rhythm faltered and he plunged into me.

It was too much. The cup overflowed and ripped through my body in mind numbing waves. I screamed. I writhed underneath him, arms freed and searching, searching for something to hold on to. Something to grip and tear and rip. Something to help me deal with the pleasure pulsing through my body. My hands found his back and I raked nails down him and tore and screamed until I was breathless and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart. In the recesses of my mind, I knew that in the middle of all my activity he came as well. I could feel it.

Sound came back in stages. First, the racing of my heart, followed by my breath coming out in short gasps and finally I noticed Lothor's erratic breathing, coming out in short, raspy breaths. I wasn't worried much. He had been doing more work than me, using more muscles than me. I was willing to believe that until he started shaking and his body started going blue. His breath came out and a large gust of wind blew through that room. He moaned and a clap of thunder sounded from above. I could see a flash of lightening in the corner of my eye from the window to our left. He was flaunting his powers. But he shouldn't have any left. All the sidhe lost his/her power thousands of years ago, right? I had known him all my life and I had never seen him do anything like this. It was scary.

His body was turning purple. Everywhere that our bodies touched, he was cold. He was freezing to death. I didn't know what to do. I was screaming when the rest of my lovers came running in, guns out, looking for the danger. It was at that moment that I realized that my magic was still up and held them all away. The danger happened to be me.