Title: Dream
Keywords: mf, rom?
Author: Caesar
"There was a parson of Eltham,
Who seldom fucked whores, but oft felt 'em.
In the lanes he would linger,
And play at stick finger,
'Twas on the way home that he smelt 'em."
-The Pearl No. 2
Disclaimer:
#include "std_disclaimer.h"
All characters are fictional and a figment <g> of my imagination.
Constructive e-mail welcome.
Dream #1
by Caesar(92)
My regiment had fought and died those days in early July, 1944. Yet
when we finally entered Caen, tired half-starved people began to
cheer. Not only that, a few brazen and obviously relieved civilians
ventured forth and embraced and gave us hastily picked flowers. Many
civilians were weeping, more were dazed from the fury of the fighting.
I felt very inadequate, most of the rubble that was left of the city,
had been massed bombed only the night before by the Allied airforce.
The few under my command gave their share of cigarettes and
rations of food to the happy people. One lad even handed me the
head off a home made doll, I hadn't the heart to return it.
Our orders had come early that morning of the 9th, the Maquis, the
French Resistance were leading us to the objective. The city offices.
It was called "Operation Goodwood", or by us Canadians, "Operation
Atlantic". The "Operation" seemed a very fancy word, in my little
corner of the battle, I was given objectives. And every one I fought
very hard for, we took. Yet as I walked through the rubble of the
streets, looking upon the thousands of refugees and huddled persons in
dark corners and under debris. My heart went out to them, was all
this destruction worth the lives that was taken. Sure the allies had
dropped leaflets to warn the city that it was about to be bombed, but
even as I walk down the streets and across mounds that were once
buildings, I often saw ugly grey bloated bodies. Once we passed an
emergency hospital, set up in a monks' refectory, bodies were pilled
outside it with little dignity, inside the dim and chaotic interior
could just be made out. I was in hell!
Thankfully, the distance took little time. I stood behind a corner of
a windowless building and followed the pointing finger of the Maquis
guide. High in up in the building could just be seen the shadow of
crouched figure, a barrel sticking out the door. A sniper! And no
doubt, not alone. Unfortunately, most of the Division was sent to the
suburbs were large pockets of German resistance held on. The average,
sane infantryman hated door-to-door fighting. It was a dangerous,
hellious type of fighting. So many obstacles, and around every corner
could be a sniper or a company of just waiting to kill. Damn I
wished we had the armour that was promised us by the Brigade
Commander.
I had five left in my section, and sent two around to the right
flank. I ordered two to wait and give cover fire as needed, along
with our resistance friend who was more than happy with the prospect
of killing Germans with his beat up Sten gun. Myself and Corporal
Dickson would enter the building.
As soon as the two of us began to dart across the clearing I knew it
was a mistake. I felt then heard the shots only when we were half way
through the yard. I was grazed by two bullets, yet finally shot
through the front door with barely a scratch. Looking behind me, I
saw Corporal Dickson laying upon the cobblestones, dead. My were
returning fire, yet I held little faith in that .
I was alone, with an objective ahead of me. Yet a large part of me
wanted to curl up into a ball and hide away. Thankfully my duty and
the job held my sanity together. Through several messy rooms did I
go. Moving double time, I quickly found a stair going up. That was
when I got lost! The rooms became darker, the rooms tidier, yet still
unclean. My body was exhausted, with my kit strapped to my back and
the cumbersome rifle in my hands I soon had too stop to catch my
breath. Somewhere above me someone was still firing. I had to get
the sniper, it was either him or me.
As I stood catching my breath, I suddenly heard a couple of voices,
speaking German, I caught only a word here and their, "mischbrot",
"wurstchen", "kase". If I remember correctly, they were talking about
food. Yet footsteps were coming closer. Frantically, I quickly ran
into the suite of rooms I was standing next to. I found a locked door
and effortlessly smashed through it. I stood facing the door I just
came through, the broken lock hanging limply. I followed the sound of
the voices as they went passed the place I had been standing. I heard
them going up, their jack boots making harsh noises against the tile
and wooden floors.
Taking a breath I was about to continue with my assignment. Then I
heard something, more of a whimper. I spun around, my rife pointing
towards the sound. I saw nothing but a large desk and several chairs
and bookcases. But something had to be there!
Slowly with soft step, I came around the edge of the desk. My rifle
pointing towards the under and behind the desk, the only logical
place for a person to be. I hoped it was just a dog, or perhaps
another type of that had crawled into that small hole. Yet I
saw it! A shape! A huddled, dirty woman lay in the fetal position,
her face from me. What the hell was I to do? I bent down my
face coming closer to the desk opening. She was shivering, perhaps in
the damp morning air, or from fear. The woman only wore a thin summer
dress and heels. What was she doing here?
With a gentle hand I placed my palm upon her arm hoping I could calm
her. Here was a human being, someone that had been tormented by the
German occupation and by the Allied air strikes, how did I imagine I
could calm her. I was cover in combat gear, not a very calming sight
I'm sure. I felt her warm soft skin and she stopped shivering.
"Mlle, are you all right?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I
felt sick, I did not want to be there in that dirty room, with enemies
only a few feet away, while I tried to comfort a lady.
She spoke one word before looking up, "ministre?" I saw her face
slowly look out from behind the crock of her arm. I saw her pretty
round face, large scared eyes, full lips, small nose. She was very
pretty. The woman asked me a question, and I could not understand a
word. So I improvised, and told her my name, Caesar, or rather my
nickname. She told me hers, yet I could not pronounce the French
version so I shortened it to Sam.
Sam took her hands and arms from her face, sitting up as much as that
large desk allowed. Then she smiled at me! So you may ask? Well,
after the deaths of friends and the agony of victory, it was almost
too much. I saw her looking at my trouble faced, and she began to cry.
No I didn't cry, but I still felt the tears running down my cheeks.
One of her hands reached out daintily and wiped the tear from my face.
I sat upon the floor next to the opening of the desk, she knelt next
to me. With a motherly compassion, she bent forward and kissed my wet
cheek, her other hand holding my face steady. God, I was confused,
was I not supposed to be the victor, the knight in shining armour?
Yet here was this tiny attractive woman who was stronger than I,
comforting me. Upon the rest of my emotions I felt shame.
Sam placed her cheek next to mine, holding me. When I finally got
hold of myself, I realized she held me in a death grip. She was not
going to let go. I turned my face towards her, our eyes only six
inches apart. "Please Mlle, I have to go. You must understand,
people are depending on me!" She closed her eyes and kissed me. This
time upon the lips, very softly and with great amount of emotion. It
was too much upon my trouble soul, and I returned the unknown woman's
kiss. Sam was patient with my hungry sadness. I forced her lips open
with my own. My tongue sliding into her mouth, finally coming in
contact with hers. My hand grasped her flimsy dress and I tore the
remaining buttons off the front, exposing her undergarments. I was
hungry for passion, for love. Yet for several years all I had known
was pain and death. The softness of a woman was almost forgotten upon
me, certainly how to touch a lady was alien was.
I stopped, thankfully before I had begun to rape her, my mind finally
taking control of my emotions. Sam surprised me, she looked me
straight in the eye with even more emotion and compassion. She took
her hands off me and began to disrobe. Off came the ripped dress, her
shoulders exposed. It hung about its cord around her waist. Then she
reached behind her and undid the clasp for her bra, the undergarment
fell to the floor next to both of us.
Sam knelt, her back straight, looking right at me. I unashamed,
looked at her exposed skin. I fell for that unknown French woman, I
could see the imperfections of her flesh, but desired all. She was a
beautiful woman who had lived through years of hell, why did she offer
me this gift? I have never known.
Slowly she grasped my free hand and brought it to her chest, my large
palm cupping the firm roundness of her breast. Her nipple began to
harden under my rough hand, reminding me of the of love I had lost
because of this war. I was almost ran out of their at that moment,
yet only her eyes held me in place. She withdrew her hand from mine,
and I felt her fumble with the front of my clothing. My webbing was
undone, then the buttons of my trousers and lower jacket. I was
conscious of my unwashed body, and almost began to laugh. To be
worried about such a thing sitting here in this ransacked building
with Germans a floor above me, and both of our bodies had not seen a
bath for many a week. I realized, finally, that the simple pleasures
of the flesh was not the reason that Sam was doing this. Perhaps,
like me, she needed to feel the closeness of another human, even with
the stench of war covering us.
A warm small hand held my hardness, forced it passed my boxer shorts
to point up out of my dishevelled clothing. I don't remember a moment
when I had been more excited, or felt closer to any person in my life.
With anxious and deliberate movements she knelt up then swung a knee
and leg over my lap. Sam moved her hanging skirt from between her
legs and reached up with one hand to move her undergarments aside.
Her other hand held my shoulder steadying herself, while her eyes
never left mine.
During that time, I had placed both hands upon her full breasts. I
marvelled in the warm softness of woman, and wanted more. Yet this
time I was patient.
Sam sighed very loudly, just as I felt her warm wetness envelope me.
She sat upon my lap, locked together by more than sex. She cupped her
breasts in her hands, pointing that perfect areola towards my
salivating lips. I tasted her skin, reviling in the hardness beneath
my tongue. I alternated between the globes, almost not noticing her
slow movements up and down upon my shaft.
Time went slowly, our movements more urgent. My lips had left her
breasts and found her hungry mouth. Our tongues danced to the beat of
our joining. I marvelled at her wetness, wanted to see it, yet her
skirt hid everything. The moisture contained their was making erotic
wet noises. She began to moan deep down in her throat and I forced my
tongue into her mouth to silence her in the most polite way I knew
how. She accepted my gift.
Before I realized what was going on, Sam froze, with only the unknown
joined portions quivering and spasming delightfully upon me. I spent
a great tribute to this unknown woman, flooding her with my seed. She
squealed with pleasure, feeling the warm liquid hit deep inside her,
filling her up. Her hips wiggled wonderfully, bringing a groan from
my lips.
It was over.
Sam lay over me, spent as I. Slowly the sounds that surrounded us
began to reach me. I could hear the sounds of treads, the tanks that
had been promised to my section. I had to leave this woman, yet that
was the hardest thing I had yet to do in my short years. I gently
moved her off me, and told her to stay under the desk. When it was
over I would return, what then, I don't know?
I stood ready, my soul finally cured of its afflictions. Yet again,
it almost broke. The look in her eyes as I was only steps away from
the door to this room was enough to fill my heart with foreboding. I
must do my duty, if not for my commanders then for her. I would
return!
Swiftly without looking back I left her, soon finding the stairs going
up. Silently I reached the top, through the rubble I saw five Germans
smoking and laughing. One was on watch looking out the large window.
I could not understand what they said, yet I didn't care. I blamed
them for causing Sam her pain, I wanted to them. Taking careful
aim, I shot two before the others even reacted. My position upon the
stair, looking over the edge of the floor, gave me good cover. And I
was able to wound another soldier. Then the wall behind the remaining
Germans blew wards, killing them instantly and showering me with
debris. One hit me very hard and I as knocked senseless.
Confusion was what I awoke to, around me a sea of brown and green
uniforms. A doctor knelt next to my prone body, examining my head
wound. "A scratch really, though head wounds do bleed a lot." He
quickly left me to attend another fallen comrade. In only hours I was
again with my section, as they sat with the tank crew in front of that
building I knew so well. With barely a glance at my I entered the
cleared building, finding nothing.
Sam was gone!
-*-
Dream #2
by Caesar(92)
I do have limits! I mean I am a crook, sure, but that does not mean I
would do many other illegal activities. Even thieves have a code of
honour, if you will. What am I talking about?
Well, I had a job to do. My business partner would case out a place,
usually posing as a salesman or a meter reader, and it was my job to
go in and empty the joint. Easy! And it usually is, except for this
one time. Now I don't carry a gun, but just a knife for cutting away
cords, or jimmying stuck cabinets. So I always try to B&E while the
occupants are not home. I was already in the house, a normal
middle-class dwelling which was chosen for my exploits because of the
amount of toys. Electronic toys. Excellent turn-over value. This
job would bring me personally over a thousand bucks!
Yet this job was not so easy!
There was someone in the house. A temptation that would perhaps have
beguiled a less ethical man. A totally unforeseen disaster could
happen if I didn't get out very quick. I was upstairs going through
the main bedrooms drawers and closets and had already collected
several pieces of jewelry. The sound from downstairs was unmistaken, a
woman was crying! I almost shit my drawers, my partner had assured me
the place was empty, the had left for the evening. I suddenly
pictured myself cuffed in the back seat of a police cruiser, not a
vision I wanted fulfilled.
To get out of the house, I had to go back downstairs. I may be a
thief but that doesn't mean I can climb! Nor did I bring rope. Damn,
damn, damn, damn!
Moving as fast as I could while still stepping softly I crept
downstairs. I saw a flickering light that was not there when I
entered the house. It was the fireplace in the large living room that
was giving that eerie glow. It certainly was not there when I had
left, perhaps someone returned home without my hearing. Doubtful but
possible.
I still stood on the stairs but could see into the large immaculate
living room. A person lay upon the floor, the sound of her crying
louder. She was not crying loudly, but weeping to herself, yet in
this quiet house the sound was very deafening. My muscles shook with
fear, my hands were sweaty and my teeth ground together.
Finally I reached the bottom of the stairs and snuck another peek at
the woman before I would exit from the front door and run like hell.
I saw an attractive small woman, dressed very nicely, laying upon the
floor facing the fire. From my angle I could see the tears upon her
cheeks, and her sad round face. My heart went out to her, but what
could I do? If she saw me, off to the big house for sure! I creeped
to the door of the living room and watched her for a bit more. If she
was OK, then I would leave. In that light I could see everything,
though with a reddish glow, even the wine glass half-filled sitting
next to her. I studied the profile of the lady. And that was what
she was - a lady; perhaps early thirties, she had that cuddly
appearance that attracted me, she wore professional conservative
clothing yet still very feminine, short hair that radiated the
irregular light.
It was time to leave. I'm not sure how long I stood there, but it had
to be about ten minutes. Karma I expect. When I was about to turn
and go, I realized she was looking right at me!
Her eyes wide in surprise, I didn't see fear, she stared directly into
mine. I realized I should have put on a mask or bellacaluva when I
heard someone in the house. "I..I won't you." I realized I must
look fearful, black pants and shirt, black leather gloves and runners,
and a duffle bag under an arm. One of her dainty hands came up and
wiped a cheek dry. "I'm sorry for everything...I will leave now..."
I stepped back one pace then froze upon hearing her voice. "Don't
go!" A voice filled with desperation and surprise. Yet surprisingly
still no fear. I would have still turned tail and run if not for
those two words. Why would she ask me to stay? Were the police on
their way already? Perhaps she had a gun trained upon me? I froze in
fear and astonishment.
I turned back in time to see her wipe the other cheek dry. She
mumbled, "I'm sorry..." She surprised me again? Was I not the
intruder, the crook, the thief? It was obvious she did not fear me.
"My name is Samantha," she stood awkwardly since her skirt hindered
the movement, "please come in and sit down." She motioned towards a
large comfortable couch. I was struck silent, but followed mutely her
commands. I sat looking into her pretty face, and saw her smile. A
happy, honest and earnest smile, filled with trust and something else?
From my seat I could smell her perfume, I know not the name but it
filled my head and caused my heart to flutter.
Samantha took a seat next to me, about a foot distant, easily within
arms distance. Her soft eyes met mine and I melted in her look.
Perhaps she was stalling for the cops, yet something in the ladies
manner suggested I was wrong. She asked quietly, politely, "What is
your name?"
I didn't want to tell her the truth, it could be used against me in a
court of law. So I gave her my nickname, the one used by my business
acquaintances, "Caesar." She reached out and took my hand held it
firmly in her warm grasp. I of course let her, yet knew at any moment
I could overpower this small woman and leave. But who was in power
here? At that moment I contemplated forcing myself upon her. And I
quickly discarded the notion, the lady was above that, even above me.
And as I have said, I do have limits. One of those is that I will
steal, but never a person intentionally or otherwise. "I should
go!" Indeed I should!
She held me more firmly, "No please stay!" I knew she would let go if
I insisted. I didn't. Samantha hung her head, looking down at her
lap, almost in shame. To my distress her smile was gone. "I want you
to make love to me." So quiet I'm sure I must have mistaken her
words. After several seconds of silence, she looked up into my eyes,
her look hard. "Here on the floor, make love to me here." I looked
down at the large fur rug, perhaps a polar bear. Then let my eyes
wander over the woman's form, she lifted her chin and waited for
my inspection to end.
Of course I wanted her, I was a male after all. But I was
crude, used to the streets, the women of he gutter. What did I know
about "making love", in my world we called it sex or just f%$*ing!
Yet in the end I pulled my hand from hers and placed it upon her right
bosom. Was their any doubt reader? Samantha closed her eyes and
sighed deeply. Soon both hands were gently caressing and fondling the
round soft breasts. She wore a silk pearl colored blouse, loose, and
a brassier underneath. And yet her nipples were very visible, they
also poked into my palm exciting me beyond her earlier words. Both
hands trembled when I placed them upon her lap, and began to worm then
up her taunt skirt. Though my gaze was fixed to the placement of my
hands, I saw out the corner of my eye as she began to slowly unbutton
her blouse.
Nirvana, the lady wore stockings! The type with garters and all the
fixings. I felt the heat of her bare upper thigh as the tips of my
fingers reached skin. Now I knew even if the police were outside, I
would not care. For this moment was foremost in my mind. Nothing
else mattered.
I pulled my hands out from the tight confines of her skirt and began
to help her with the blouse. Soon it was off, thrown upon the floor
behind the couch. Her bra was unclasped from the front, and her
breasts moved with delight to be unconfined. My mouth watered! She
stood up before me, her hands reaching behind her to undo the white
skirt, it fell to the floor very quickly. Her hands reached for her
garter belt but I intercepted her and nodded no. I wanted her to keep
the white on, they pleasured my visual senses immensely.
Samantha smiled knowingly and hooked a thumb under the corners of her
panties. Again I stopped her.
She looked down at me in surprise as I bent forward and planted a kiss
upon her white silk undergarment. I could taste her moist pleasure
soaking the silk, the smell intoxicating, the heat overpowering. My
head swam. She groaned as my lips touched her, almost begging with
that one sound for another. Again my lips touch the fine fabric, and
this time I noticed the discoloration from it being wet. Samantha's
small hands intertwined in my hair and held my head, she wanted more.
Yet so did I.
Using my teeth, I pulled the left side of the down to mid- hip.
I immediately moved to the other side, and pulled it down. Moving to
the center, my nose already within a bush so fine and that I am
amazed I found the strength to continue. My teeth pulled her to her lower thighs, where they fell promptly to her knees. I had
noticed a length of her excitement trail behind the which
finally broke after a length. This lady did indeed want a lowly like myself! She now stood clothed the way I most desired her, she
was beautiful!
"Lay upon your carpet Samantha." An order, yet it brought a huge
smile to her face and prompt response. She lay upon her back, her
legs slightly spread, her knees bent, her hands running up and down
her thighs and across her stomach. Her eyes followed me intently,
waiting!
I stood over her, my hands quickly undoing my shirt, then my shoes and
my pants. I saw one of her hands cup a and I slowed down
forcing her to wait. As I inched my pants down my long legs, bending
over so she had not seem my sex yet, I also watched her. The lady was
wiggling her bottom in her impatience, her hand upon her was
molding it to her desires, the other was scratching with nails upon
those warm soft thighs and stockings. I stood straight!
Of course the preceding events had excited me and my pole was at its
height. Her gasp of thankful pleasure very loud, as I took two steps
and stood over her prone body, my legs straddling her waist. Samantha
looked straight up into my charms, then quickly stole a glance at my
face, and back down. I stoked my throbbing member gently, mostly for
effect. She lifted her back off the rug and rolled to either side,
hungry for what was next. The reddish glow illuminated us devilishly.
I thought the she looked positively delightful and very yummy. Yet I
held off for perhaps a moment, teasing both of us.
Taking my time I slowly ended up kneeling between her thighs which she
had spread to accommodate me. Soon I was on all fours, my hands to
either side of her chest. With minute precision my object of desire
engulfed my raging stallion within its wet folds. I sank to the hilt,
gasping in the initial pleasure. Samantha's hand came up, one to hold
the back of my neck, the other to grasp my tight buttock. She set the
rhythm for our coupling.
I know not if I was making love, but I tried, both for her sake and
mine. It was the most intense and pleasurable experience in my twenty
years. For this I would go to jail for an uncountable period.
The speed of our love was slow, our sex joining softly, the tip of my
pole exiting her confines before again entering. Again and again. In
all truthfulness I know not how long we continued in this fashion, nor
did I care. At one point, I arched my back and tasted upon the hard
little buds of her nipples. The taste intoxicating, and very
stimulating. There would not be much longer for my explosion, I was
amazed that I lasted this long with the fine lady. When she lifted
her covered legs and wrapped them around my waist, that was
too much! Both her arms encircled my head and neck, then she began to
move below me. Faster with every thrust, we accelerated desperately,
with almost magic. I believe I held her body completely as she lifted
herself off the ground and moved in time to me.
I was the first to finish. My orgasm shot through me like a bolt of
energy that drained me very quickly. I barely even noticed that she
had screamed out and began to thrash and buckle beneath me. Samantha
clung to me in passion while both of our bodies went through a
simultaneous passion release. Both of our muscles quivered in delight
and exhaustion as we fell to the ground, neither of us with a reserve
of energy left.
The fire crackled and snapped lazily, inciting me to fall asleep
within my new lovers arms, both still locked by our tired organs. I
held her body completely as she lifted herself off the ground and
moved in time to me.
I was the first to finish. My orgasm shot through me like a bolt of
energy that drained me very quickly. I barely even noticed that she
had almost screamed out and began to thrash and buckle beneath me.
Samantha clung to me in passion while both of our bodies went through
a simultaneous passion release. Our muscles quivered in delight and
exhaustion as we fell to the ground, neither of us with a reserve of
energy left.
The fire crackled and snapped lazily, inciting me to fall asleep
within my new lovers arms, both still locked by our tired bodies. The
remaining narrative of this is not very interesting - I left the
lady sleeping beautifully upon that large white fur rug, her body
still glistening by the flickering of the dying firelight. I stole
away and never saw her again. But I still wonder?!
-*-
Dream #3
by Caesar(92)
My desires do run a little different than what some consider "normal".
Yet I'm not alone, a large underground full of people are into my own
kink. Normal, everyday people. With middle-class families and kids,
yet their desires do also run very slanted.
Samantha was such a person. Her life was what I would call "regular",
at least the little I knew about it. To tell the truth I'm not even
sure if Samantha is her real name? I had only met her upon the busy
rush-hour transit an hour ago. And here she was standing in my
basement.
With amusement I watched her look around at the toys and articles of
my kink. I watched her moist tongue lick along her already moist
lips, a very arousing sight. Her hands kept clenching and unclenching
her briefcase, which was also crossed before her as a if it was a
shield. I enjoyed her nervousness and uncertainty. It was my game.
Samantha was dressed very business-like, yet I had no idea what she
did, nor did I care. Tonight would be for pleasure not business.
"I don't think I could do this." She said, her eyes unable to come
off one wall, which I called the "dungeon" side. I gave no reaction
nor did I deny her exit to my hideaway. The ground rules were already
set before she had stepped into my house. She could leave any time,
and I will not object or stop her. But while she was down in my
basement she was mine!
We were strangers, I assumed her desires were stronger than her common
sense about strange on transit trains. Why else would she be
here? Many of my new women were exactly like her. Samantha was a
lost flower in the wind and I am about to grasp her into my firm
grasp.
If you had not guessed it by now, I am a dominate(dom) and Samantha
was to be my current submissive(sub). My "slave" if you will!
I gave her time to look around. Knowing, that waiting for my first
order to be given was harder than the actual execution. Not for all,
of course, but the unknown sub was very nervous. Action may or may
not cure that. Did she have a husband at home? Perhaps even waiting
for her? I didn't care.
"Take your clothes off Samantha." A simple statement, spoken quietly
and an air of non-compromise. The sub took a deep breath then dropped
her briefcase to the floor at her feet. She turned around towards me
and brought both hands to her throat to unclasp the broach pinned
there.
The game was afoot!
I leaned back against a wooden work horse, sanded down for special
uses, and openly admired the small woman. The one piece dress took
very little time to fall to the floor around her ankles. Her shoes,
hose, bra and followed. She finally stood straight determined
to continue with the game, daring me to look upon her nakedness.
"Let your hair down and take your earrings out." A little surprised
she pulled out the gold studs, the hair clasp also was undone very
quickly.
Few people can stand naked in a warm damp dungeon and not feel just a
little nervous especially with a stranger watching minutely. I let
the silence hang for almost three minutes, while I scrutinized her
body. The hard nipples, the full bush between her legs were
complimentary in terms of what was to come next. She was a tiny
woman, with small round face and a cute small nose. The smile she
wore when she first came down my stairs was gone, now she bit the
bottom of her lip.
"Turn slowly," she followed my directions, and I saw her small tummy,
her round buttocks, "stop." Her back was facing me. I was presented
with what I considered one of the most attractive features upon a
woman. The buttocks and legs. Both of which were very attractive
upon this lady.
I considered asking her to bend over to allow me a formal view, but
dropped it when she began to speak. "I don't w..."
I snapped, "Quiet!" After a deep sigh I explained, "as a slave you
don't speak without permission. Do you understand?"
"Yes." Her voice was quivering slightly. Excellent!
"You will address me by my the name Caesar. Again do you understand?"
"Yes Caesar!" She sounded determined. This was the part of my
program where a woman will have second thoughts and leave. I
half-expected this early thirtyish woman to do just that. She had a
strong will, but as a dom I know they were also the most fun to break.
I again appraised her backside for a full five minutes, until her body
was trembling beyond control. Her torso was shivering as if chilled.
What to do with this lady?
"In front of you slave is a rack, take out the leather stick with the
straps attached to the end." She walked over and returned, her eyes
wide and looking upon the horrifying object. Samantha was an
intelligent woman, she knew what the object was for.
She stood in front of me and I took the from her hand. "Don't
move." Still leaning against the I pressed the hard tip of the
cat into her body. The butt rubbed along the round soft cheek to her
chin. Then down to her chest and up the firmness of her breast. I
took my time with everything, knowing the pleasure for both of us will
be easily compounded the longer we waited. She shivered very
violently as the hard end flicked her tight hard nipple. I didn't
tarry but continued down her smooth white skin to her belly button.
Again I left that area and ventured to her waist and hip, running up
and down the marvellous contour. The butt ran along her skin to her
knee where it quickly slide to the inside of her leg. I watched her
face as the end of the handle ran up along the inside of her thigh,
the extremely soft and inviting skin shivering against the hard
leather. Samantha bite the bottom of her lip, her eyes closed
awaiting the inevitable. I didn't press it to her sex, instead I
flicked her curly hair with it. Only for a second, let her have
a taste and she will come back for more.
"Turn around slave." She did, her muscles quivering so much that it
seemed difficult for her to follow my instructions.
Very gently I placed my palm upon her round right buttock that faced
towards me. "You are a very attractive lady Samantha," she of course
didn't say anything, my hand working up into the crack of her bottom,
"yes, you are a very exciting slave."
"Thank you Caesar." She had added the perfect amount of humility to
her statement, simple perfection for a sub.
"I'm going to punish you slave."
"Thank you Caesar." Her body quivered violently again.
I stood up from the polished and grunted for her to bend face
forwards over it. Very quickly her wrists and ankles were tied
tightly with an expertise that would not damage the attractive skin of
this woman. I had done this before! A male dom has to remember that
his sub's are still woman, that they still enjoy the delights of other
woman. Perhaps it was the pain, or the total domination that excited
them beyond what was "normal". A dom that remembers to fulfil his
sub's fantasies as well as his own - is one that is in demand.
The leather strips of the ran along the smooth skin of her back.
A most peculiar sensation prior to being punished, if my sub's are to
be believed. In her position, Samantha presented her backside to me,
the length of her crack leading down to the sprout of hair poking of
that region. I may be prejudiced but I believe it is the most
attractive position for a woman to be placed in. Yet this sub was not
properly trained, "Arch your back slave, present your bottom for my
desires." She did, but could see that she was uncomfortable in such a
position. "This is a position that I require of you, if you tire and
forget, the punishment will be multiplied. Do you understand
Samantha?"
"Yes Caesar." Her bottom was simply a work of art!
I took a step back, and again admired the form before me. The hissed through the air as I swung it back and forth, Samantha had no
idea if or when the first cut would be applied. All a part of the
game, I assure you. She tensed upon every swish through the air,
anxious and afraid for the sting of the cat. I was in control, and my
wish was paramount!
The first cut with the surprised her, I had not used a full swing
and it barely made a sound until it hit her pale round buttocks.
Truthful, since I had not used my strength the sting would not have
hurt much, but Samantha yelled out in surprise. The leather straps
left delightful horizontal marks upon her bottom, and to my eyes
very artfully.
"Count out your punishment slave!" My voiced had a new edge, fierce
without room for discussion. This was not planned. Samantha was even
stimulating my passions. Very interesting. Usually with a sub I was
completely in control.
She cried out, "...one..."!
The swung full length, hissing through the air before striking her
bottom, the straps made a sharp dull noise against her, the tips of
the leather wrapping around her hip.
"...two..."!
With the next cut I used more force, my strength and desire forcing
the straps to hit her arched out bottom full force. She yelped out
before she yelled the next number in our sequence of pain. Another,
and another.
"...ten..."!
The sub was getting tired, her body looked exhausted, her bottom a
mass of welts. But with my expertise none will permanently scar
her wonderful skin. She was also sobbing to herself. Remember,
reader, that always my sub has the choice to stop the punishment at
any time. Usually with code words, but with this new slave all she
had to do was say one of two words, "stop", or "no"! Make no mistake,
pain can be an aphrodisiac! Do not judge until you try it.
Ten may not sound like a large amount, but perhaps you have never been
under the cat. I have never acted the sub and never tasted the whip.
Two hundred years ago, sailors were punished in such a fashion.
Fourty lashes would decimate a lesser man. Think how resilient this
wonderful woman was, how strong her passion must be to undergo the
amount of pain involved. Marvellous!
"That was an introduction Samantha," she gasped, expecting to be given
more ghastly punishments, "yet for your first visit I believe you are
put into your place." I had multitudes of ingenious pain devices, but
guessed this woman has enjoyed the pain of her punishment more the
subjugation. Perhaps on her next visit?!
To my surprise I barely heard her whisper, "More Caesar."
"Speak your mind slave."
With a lost voice she answered, "I deserve more Caesar, please!" It
was almost a plea. Yes this woman was something special! I was
enjoying this!
I smiled knowingly, then very quickly less she change her mind, the
cat bit her bottom yet again.
"...eleven..."!
Again, and yet again. Until even me, the dom, was concerned for the
amount of pain a lady can absorb.
"...twenty four..."!
My arm felt like lead, my body was covered in sweat. The last cut
fell upon her still arched out bottom.
"...twenty five..."
Samantha also sounded exhausted, her voice barely audible, her body
glistening delightfully with perspiration. No word was spoken, yet
both of us knew the punishment was finished. Neither of us could take
any more.
She looked exhausted and spent, but still jumped when the fell to
the hardwood floor. Samantha was uncertain what I was doing until I
let the ice drip from between my fingers to her hotly stinging
buttocks. She gasped out in pleasant surprise, a small reprieve for
the punishment she had undergone. I used several chunks of frozen
water to give her appeasement. She was breathing heavy and sighing
with enjoyment from my attentions. The buttocks were indeed abused,
it would be several long days before this lady would be able to forget
the pain.
The ice water dripped over her backside and her back, I enjoyed giving
her opposit sensations. The exposed skin was soaking wet, her back
even had goose bumps.
"Your position slave!" I put a edge of danger in my voice, yet it was
an act. I knew I could not punish this woman any longer.
She of course returned to her position very quickly. I was not going
to punish her, but I was not finished with the sub! I crouched behind
her, between her bound legs my face level with her bottom. My breath
must have felt peculiar upon those hotly glowing globes?!
Samantha was more than a little delighted as my tongue licked up the
length of her sex, the touch gentle as a feather. This caused her to
force her backside out even more than the had done. She whimpered
delightfully. I could smell her aroma, it was intoxicating. The
taste addicting. Yes, the sub was excited, her arousal the result of
my earlier attentions. I licked along the inside of her thighs,
tasting the intermingled juices there. Tasting the ice water, sweat
and, god yes, her desire!
More licks quickly followed after the first, all were extremely light,
barely even touching the wrinkled glistening inner lips. My tongue
spent equal amount of time upon the hard bud of clitoris, bringing
the expected affect. My bound beauty was still my slave, her
excitement mine to give or take away. Her sex flowered open,
pulsating with desire and the need for a completion to my attentions.
I teased her, stopping my attentions to kiss her brightly glowing bum
cheeks, or to rub along the back of her legs, perhaps to hold more ice
to drip upon her. I even placed small chunks of ice in my mouth, then
placed my chilled tongue to her over-heated sex region. She loved
all!
"Please Caesar...god...," I kissed the hard bud of her clitoris,
"...yes...!" The better the slave she was the more attention she
received. And believe me when I say she was excited. I forced her to
await for her release. I have not the language to explain the
delightful contortions her body underwent in that strange position,
nor the sound of her voice as she begged, promised, and asked for her
release.
It was finally time to bring this interlude to a conclusion and
brought my mouth to her need. My touches still light, my actions
patient yet this woman needed only the barest of my attentions before
the inevitable happened.
Samantha orgasmed in a loud, violent, delightful way. Her muscles
quivered and shook without control or order. Her was hotly
upon my tongue when her release happened, the already wet surface
became soaked with her passion, my tongue tasting the slightly sharper
tang of her spend. The muscles of her legs and buttocks almost forced
me from the tight confines, so violent were their reactions. The
lady's head came up and her body was a mass of clenched muscle as the
final ebbs washed through her. I could swear I followed the path of
her excitement ripple up than back down her body, so visible was it.
The reactions lasted for over fourty seconds.
As expected she did not even realized she was untied until I was
standing next to her, holding a try with a cup of hot tea mixed with
brandy. A concoction a fellow dom told me about. The taste
reminiscent of the pain- pleasure of an encounter. I helped the lady
up and walked her exhausted body to the corner where a door
revealed a small washroom. Soon she reemerged, showered and clean. I
helped her into her clothes, my eyes politely turning away. She
sipped the tea and complimented me upon its taste. Yet I could see
she was thanking me for more than that.
I called her a cab, but just when she was ready to leave, Samantha's
eyes wandered to my covered crotch and the obvious bulge there.
That was when I knew my sub would be back, next time she wanted to
taste something new. To repeat the pleasure she had felt today, and
to give her dom a present of her appreciation.
It is the way of the game!
-*-
Dream #4
by Caesar(92)
The Sleeping Tyrant Inn was very full. Before I even entered the
smoke filled building I could see the packed humanity within. If
another wayside stop was within twenty miles I would have kept going,
yet this was my only possibility. A night upon the lightly covered
snow did not impress me. I had to reach my destination by tomorrow
evening, nothing could slow me down.
The stable took my Palfrey and the coppers with a toothless smile.
Before I even went through the door, a came flying out. Head
first. I almost turned around and kept going down the road, but the
grumble of my belly prevented me. Stepping over the comatose
individual I entered the Tyrant.
The first words I hear, "Ave gov'?"
"Uh, good evening..." I was rudely interrupted.
"Now ya' just sit yo'r p'etty buns down gov' and I be'd right wi't
cha'." Do I really need to give a description to this tavern worker.
I think not, my is about someone else.
I looked about the room, and there was no place to sit, no table free.
I loathed sitting with uneducated farmers and their lackeys. Yet over
near the wall, furthest from the fireplace and loudest commotion, was
a small round table. It was the person sitting at the table that
interested me most, and who is the reason I'm writing this short
story. A lady of mark and obviously her maid were sitting alone, the
other tables full of ignoring them as lower classes often did with
high-born women.
I stood over them, my hat in hand, "Good evening lady," I addressed
the one, "would it be uncivil of me to present myself and ask the
privilege of sitting at your table?"
"Of course good sir, a gentle-man is always welcome at a lady's dinner
table. Especially if she is alone amongst..." She stopped and looked
around, echoing my own thoughts. "My name honoured sir is Lady
Samantha, this is my maid H----." For the life of me I can't remember
the maids name, no matter, I didn't even look at her.
"A pleasure of your acquaintance my Lady, my name is Viscount Caesar."
I took my place in the empty seat. "Have you yet eaten?" She nodded
no. "The wench does not want to serve our kind it seems." I was
taken back, we had money, and we will not barter with chickens for a
drink as I assume many of her clients do.
I immediately stood and waved over the woman that had greeted me upon
entering this establishment. "Madam, three fine dinners, well cooked
mind you, and wine for the table. Hurry about it wench." She gave me
a evil look but the silver coin I produced caused her to shuffle off
quickly and with a smile.
Sitting again, I began a polite conversation with the pretty Lady. I
learned many things, none that truly interested me. The supper
arrived, great heaps of it piled high upon the plate, was palatable
barely. Yet it did fill me up. I ordered three rooms for us. There
was no problem with that, most of the clientele lived within riding
distance and only came for an evening to drink and socialize. I
accompanied Lady Samantha to the door to her room, kissing her hand
telling her I will be gone early and would not see her tomorrow. She
nodded and sweep into her room. I was about to enter my own when
H----- grabbed the crook of my arm.
"Sir, the Lady Sir!" She dropped her voice, barely audible over the
steady roar of the tavern. "It be'd her husband, he's right knocked.
If ya' know what I mean? We are going to his mothers where I believe
he wants the gentle Lady disposed of Sir!"
I was a little taken back, "Disposed of? What do you mean woman?" It
was a very stern voice I used with that maid.
"I mean Sir, he wants a d'vorce." I had to sigh with relief, I had
thought she meant...well you know. A divorce was possible since King
Henry VIII created the Church of England, yet only the very rich could
afford this privilege and is still rare even at Court. The maid took
my silence as not understanding her simple country words, "The Lord
has a new woman, a country wench with no manners. He even flaunts her
in the household manner. If I be so bold," she has so far, "the Lady
is beyond herself. Perhaps even readying to leave us by her own
hand."
She was saying that Lady Samantha was preparing to commit suicide
because of her ignoramus husband. I could not believe that the
soft-spoken smiling Lady that I had dinner with, was going to take her
own life. Then a door opened down the hallway and H----- scurried off
almost scared. Why had she told me, what could I do? I entered my
room and lay upon the bed starring at the ceiling.
Two hours must have gone by in a wink before a decision came to me. I
exited my room and entered the Lady's. Yes I didn't knock, nor was it
locked, but had a triangular piece of wood under the edge of the door.
Very easy to still open quietly.
I sat upon the bed next to the dark sleeping form, and then spoke,
"Lady Samantha?"
She turned around facing me, I could sense her nervousness as well as
my own, "Viscount, what...?"
Gently with as much skill as I could apply, I kissed the Lady upon the
lips. I found them warm, moist, and inviting. She did not resist nor
did she return my kiss.
Holding my face above hers I whispered, "Good Lady your maid has told
me what ails you." I kissed her again. "I am here to convince you
that I for one cherish your life." This time she returned my kiss,
yet with very little passion.
My tongue caressed her lips and slid past into her mouth. I fondled
and toyed with her mouth, coercing her to open her lips even more to
my intrusion. Very slowly she responded to my interest and returned
my passion. Her own tongue caressed mine, while I savoured her hungry
taste. In only a single minute she was transformed from a sad mute,
to a passionate woman. She began to explore my own mouth, teeth, and
lips. Her hunger rapidly gaining ground with my own passion.
Lady Samantha pulled her arms from beneath the woolen blankets
to wrap me against her. Her hands were pure energy, moving rapidly
pulling my blouse from my trousers and feeling the smooth hard skin
beneath. I in turn held her head in my hands gentle as if holding a
babe. I would not want to turn her away with aggressive mannerisms.
She held the reins as to how far and what this evening entailed.
Her hands snuck between our stomachs to undo my trouser belt. The
lady's hands were shaking so violently I wondered if she was scared by
my intrusion. Yet when my bottoms were pushed past my buttocks and my
manhood exposed did I learn the full truth to this woman. Lady
Samantha held my rigid penis with her small hand and let out a very
deep sigh into the depths of my mouth even while she measured and
tested my manhood. Evidently she was satisfied and I felt her body
relax, her hand come away from my crotch, and her mouth detach from my
own.
She whispered, "Viscount Caesar I am convinced that my life means much
to you." Her lower body rose up and pressed into my own, grinding
herself for only a second. "Yet I wish to be influenced even with
more lassitude!" She brought her mouth again to mine, the kiss
infinite with possibilities and with great passion.
Yet I pulled away and swiftly stood before her quick hands grasped me
by my loose blouse. I stood and began to disrobe, my body exposed to
the pale moonlight coming through the window. I could see her wide
eyes glow in that light, watching me minutely. The clothes slowly
dropped to the ground, as I enjoyed the show I was giving the Lady.
Her legs wiggled beneath the rough blankets and her hands roamed her
upper body. When finally I stood naked beneath the moonlight and
allowed her eyes to behold my male wonders did I really notice my full
passion. The Lady was tiny, her body small while still being cute.
Her face round with wide bright eyes, her mouth a smile, her curves
desirable.
My sex exposed as it was in the damp cool air, stood hard and straight
pointing towards the ceiling at its usual angle. I grasped in on my
right hand, as males would do, perhaps assuring ourselves that it is
real. I spoke, "The nightdress, my Lady?" I presented it as a
question, it was in her power to deny me this one present and for me
to deliver her my tribute in any manner of her liking. But Lady
Samantha quickly pulled up the nightgown from beneath the security of
her covers and quickly over her head. The lovely eyes barely left my
grasping hand except for the brief second of disrobing. I caught a
glimpse of her lovely round breasts, the tiny dark nipple, both of
which quickly disappeared beneath the rough blanket.
"Come my Lord, tonight I am no Lady but your servant!" She held the
edge of the blanket up inviting me. I caught a glimpse of her pale
thigh and leg, enticing me even more, before I quickly slide in beside
her.
"And I yours Madame!" Our lips met yet again.
Our passion pressed us onward towards the glorious enviable ending
that was the logical finish to my tale. My apologies, I am getting
well ahead of myself.
Her hands quickly grasped my naked buttock and fondled them to her
delight. While the other held my head and hair, manipulating me to
the angle of her lips and tongue. The Lady was a hellion, her passion
consuming me, bringing me to the rein of her lips. It was my turn to
groan with delight.
One of my hands held me steady to her side while the other roamed
along the length of her body. The skin of this beauty magnificent, my
hand contently feeling the wonderful contours of woman. I trembled
with anticipation as my hand cupped her rib cage below her bosom.
Together we made noises of love as my hand slide up to hold her
breast. The nipple was small and hard, pressing into my palm.
Without thought my centre pressed to her hip, the hardness contained
warmly between us delightfully. The kiss and earnest fondling lasted
for an eternity while our bodies withered next to each other.
It was Lady Samantha that decided the beginning of the end. To my
surprise she turned away from me, causing me to fear a rebuttal of my
amorous desires. Thankfully she brought her warm round bottom to my
lap, grinding my hardness between the twin globes. My Lady moved her
upper leg ever so slightly and I again felt her small hand grasp my
manhood. Maneuvering slightly she bent the shaft of steel and brought
the head to the opening of a warm delicious tunnel. We both moved in
unison, my hardness gliding effortlessly into the enveloping wetness
of her womanhood. I was surprised that the voice that yelled out was
my own, so delirious did she make me.
The round bottom of Lady Samantha began its slow dance. Moving with a
strange and erotic rhythm. By the heavens above, did I grasp that
soft hip and deliver unto her again and again. Our skin began to
slap, the speed accelerating deliciously. The Lady rotated and pumped
her bottom without effort, the speed in time to my own. It was
magical, the way our bodies related to each other. She was a tiny
woman, small to my size, yet she fit before me as if God himself
designed her. In fact my voice often called his name, as well as the
Lady Samantha's.
My hand detached itself from her hip and firmly grabbed a round
breast. Her back arched towards me, bringing her neck and ear to my
lips. My tongue left trails of moisture along those same contours.
Quickly, with desperation, I slide my hand from her bosom to the
wonder between her legs. I expertly touched the love button at the
head of the break wonderfully concealed with curly hair. She
was coated with her own desire, and soon my hand was covered from the
moisture.
Lady Samantha cried out for God above, for mercy, and thankfully for
me. Our bodies were coated in a fine film of sweat, the sound echoing
about the room as our bottoms met, the smell intoxicated me. A can only take so much of such a woman before his passions become too
much for him.
The lady straightened her body then stiffened herself like a board.
Nothing moved. Yet within her a muscle went out of control,
squeezing my manhood deliciously bringing about my own outburst of
love. The tribute flooded into her, causing the Lady to jerk forward
into a ball with only her bottom still in contact with me. The
release of my passion finished all to quickly, my darling Lady also
slowly controlled the muscle spasms she had undergone while I had been
too far gone to notice.
Gently Lady Samantha again straightened out, her whole body soon in
contact with my own. My lips sought her neck and with love kissed the
smooth scented skin. She hummed and brought a hand around to caress
my hip and leg. Her legs tightened together upon my rapidly withering
organ and held it within its delicious confines. My body, exhausted
from my strenuous love play, soon began to fade. I slept soundly, and
believed I didn't move the whole evening.
This was no simple mercy encounter. In fact it may have began as one,
but turned into something more joyful. I wanted more of the same!
I awoke with the heat of the sun upon my bare chest. Next I noticed
the wonderful scent of Lady Samantha near me. So reaching out I was
surprised when the rough confines next to me were empty. I opened my
eyes and upon the sack that acted as a pillow, sat a note.
Needlessly I do not need to write what that tearful note contained.
Yet, dear reader, be assured the Lady was comforted and her mind at
ease. But the possibility of our continuing relationship quit
impossible. I was dually saddened and pleased!
-*-
Dream #5
by Caesar(92)
I remember very little about the woman who rescued me and who is
responsible for my recovery. If not for her gentle and caring ways, I
would certainly be laying upon the rocks near Gibraltar, dead. I
honestly cannot say what she looked like, nor her age. The whole time
I was with her, I was feverish and mostly comatose. The battle, now
known as Trafalgar, was a nightmare that could be described as Hell.
Especially to those stuck on one of the gun decks of a first rate. I
shall never sleep peacefully again, the images of my friends screaming
out as the ship rocked with multiple cannon shot, both friend and foe,
coming and going. The ship I was proud to be a crewman of, lost more
men with the storm afterwards than the actual battle. I had lived
through Hell, to fight again with an impossible foe, the weather. Yet
that is a different tale.
The first moment that I knew I was out of the cold water and
knife-like wind was a hazy and sickening encounter. It was also the
first, and only time, I saw my rescuer. Perhaps it was the warm fire,
or snugly blankets that encased my body, the smell of stew
cooking over the open fire, or the large flea ridden laying next
to my head sleeping. I have no recollection why, yet I opened my eyes
and saw a small warm room and the back of my matron. She was bent
over the table, cutting something unknown. She was a small woman,
blond hair which is a rarity in these waters. Wearing a loose skirt
and large blouse, yet I could still see she was and in fine
shape as any could hope for.
The last previous recollection I have was trying to swim the
impossible current off the coast of Spain, before being dragged under.
And at that moment, I wanted to know what happened, where I was, and
who was the woman. I tried to sit up. Well, that was it. The room
spun dizzily, spots appeared before me, and I lost what little
strength I had had. The last thing I saw before passing out, yet
again, was the face of my rescuer as she spun surprised at the noise.
I can still remember the round pretty face, the wide surprised eyes,
and the look of concern she gave me before I was again gone.
Don't recall how long it was before I sensed another sensation, but I
felt a warm wet rough cloth scrubbing by naked torso. I could feel a
cool draft upon my exposed skin, proof that the blankets were
pulled down to my knees. I was evidently naked. My consciousness
kept me back into darkness, but the coarse cloth pulled me
back again and again. I had no strength, none to even talk. The
woman had strong warm hands, the cloth a rough contrast. I returned
from consciousness at one moment and noticed that a finger was gently
sliding along the length of my penis. Up and down, and even in my
condition it enlarged pleased with some kind of attention. I must
admit I was surprised that he had more strength than I. My rescuer
attempted to encircle me with her small hand but could not, yet did
grasp it enough to point me towards the ceiling. Unfortunately that
was when I again blacked out.
I awoke a few more more times, but I only remember being sick, her
body holding me still as I puked my guts over the side of the straw
bed. I lived a dizzy black existence for an undetermined amount of
time.
The hardness of my penis again awoke me. A strange sensation, one
every male learns to enjoy at a early age. There was a warm small
body in the bed with me, laying with her back to me. My male hardness
pressing into the crack of her bottom pushed her woolen nightdress
between those soft globes. She moved only slightly, causing my cock
to slide up the length of that soft enveloping crack before coming
back down. The lady continued thus, going very slowly, her breath
slow and even. She seemed asleep, yet I knew differently. I wished
for the strength to reach out and lift that rough nightgown up past
her hips, but could not. I fell asleep, my penis still hard.
Again I was being washed, this time I laying upon my front. A soapy
slippery hand washed the crack of my bottom. A strange sensation, one
I had never experienced before. I was wet from shoulders to mid
thigh. She had saved my bottom for last. My rescuer was indeed an
interesting woman! She felt around my small hard anus, trying to
clean me or...? Quickly she stopped and dried me off.
There was several forced feedings, a broth was forced into my mouth
with a wooden spoon. Usually I regurgitate this back up, yet she
seemed to want my strength to increase. A can only go for so long
without food.
Her body slept next to mine, curled up to my side, her leg thrown over
mine, her head upon my chest. I knew immediately that she wore the
same rough gown. A small hand was rubbing the head of my hard
privates. She pressed her groin into my thigh again and again, her
breathing laboured. Though both of us were covered with the rough
blanket I could feel the warm blow of her breath. Her head was under
the blanket, just above my navel. I realized this woman was presented
with a disabled man, that she thought there would be no remembering of
what she did. Doubtful she knew I had moments of consciousness, as
few as they seemed to be to me. I could feel her heated moisture even
through that ugly gown. The darkness enveloped me yet again.
Possibly I was getting better, I began to awake more often. I had no
strength, but knew of my surrounding even more. Especially when I was
touched or a loud noise awoke me. Evidently my lady washed me once a
day, her hands withholding nothing. She would fondle my shaft to it
full height every time, the last she even bent forward and her lips
kissed the head of my penis. That time was also the first I head her
voice, a soft gentle voice, she spoke a guttural spanish. A language
I did not understand, yet I heard a few words that were familiar to
me, "lavar", "cama", and "obra".
After that day when she kissed my cock. The lady began to sleep with
me wearing as much as me. Meaning nothing. I was fully conscious
when she again pressed her centre to my thigh, her hand immediately
grasping my hardness. The woman began to stimulate herself as well as
me. Yet this time, I could feel the hardness of her nipples against
my skin, the scratchy coarseness of her pubis, and the moisture that
part of her covered my thigh with. Night after night, was spent thus.
How many I have no idea.
Yet one night, she sleep with me and clung fiercely to me, her nails
bitting into my skin. The unknown lady cried upon me, of what I have
no idea. Perhaps her husband was a sailor, pressed as I had been into
service for his country. I didn't know, but knew she was a lonely,
perhaps even scared, woman.
After feeding me one afternoon, she pulled my covers off me. Thinking
I was to get another bath this day, I anticipated what was to follow.
I was wrong. My rescuer immediately grasped my penis in her small
hand and began to squeeze it back to life. Of course it did, very
quickly. She immediately started to stroke it back and forth for a
long moment. I could hear her murmuring under her breath as she
unabashed stimulated me. She stopped. I was thankful, being sexually
stimulated often without a release can become very hard on the male
body. Yet when I felt a naked thigh next to my hip, then the other
was thrown over to the other side, I knew what was to follow and was
very pleased. My lady was kneeling above me, her hands upon my chest.
I could feel her bottom moving around, the head of my cock sliding
back and forth across her moist crack. With a brutal shove, she
dropped upon my lap and I realized she had seated herself around my
organ. She began a string of spanish obscenities as she moved
delightfully upon my lap. Already I can feel the moisture sliding
down to my balls and my lap. The sound of her hurried sex loud in the
small room, the smell intoxicating. She had wonderful control of her
inner muscles and used then wonderfully. The woman leaned forward and
pressed her hardened nipples to my inert lips, rubbing them back and
forth across my face. My release was almost simultaneous with the
moment I moved my hand to grab her calf next to my thigh. She gasped
out in surprise both from the life giving juices shooting deep into
her and my rough hand against her warm smooth skin. I blacked out
just when the last spasm rippled through my cock, and hers was
beginning.
I believe it was that night when she again took me. Climbing over me,
her body laying on mine. She quickly slid me into her wet grotto, and
pressed her legs together and began to enjoy me. Using her hands next
to my torso, she seemed almost male as she moved her hips up and down.
This time my release was simultaneous with hers. I fell asleep with
her laying upon my spent body.
Was it the good care of my nurse, or was it the awakening of my sexual
urges that brought me back to life. I have no idea. Yet the woman
spent, I would guess, three days sampling what I had to offer. Mostly
it was with her above me, but once she lay with her back to me at
night as she moved be bottom back and forth against me. She must feel
delightful uninhibited as she did things ladies of these times would
not do. Like I felt her lips taste me, her tongue running up and down
the length of my shaft. Or using my hand to wiggle along the length
of her slit. Perhaps the scariest was when she pressed that warm wet
slit to my face, rubbing it up and down. Yet I could not breath, and
thankfully she spent very quickly.
She soon realized I was conscious and that my strength was returning.
The lady stopped her playfulness. Evidently returning to a puritan
way. Her hand never touched my penis, even when she cleaned me and my
organ grew to great heights, her hand never even touch it. Only once
more did I discover her urges still applied. Noises awoke me, my body
was uncovered, and I could almost feel her breath upon my sex. She
was evidently stimulating herself while looking upon my manhood. It
only lasted a moment before she spent, barely long enough for me to
gain my full height.
I awoke with the heat of the sun coming through the open window. The
storm was over. I could hear a male voice speaking with my rescuer.
I learned her name was Samantha, yet could not make out any other of
the foreign words. I was taken away without ceremony or gentleness.
Over a rocky hilly terrain I was taken in a cart to a small town. In
a few days a small sloop of war took me on and I awoke fully on that
vessel. I am a sailor, and will probably die such. When the spray
blows against my face, and the length of the voyage becomes obvious,
my mind returns to Samantha and her warm bed.
-*-
Dream #6
by Caesar(92)
Well, its a job. At first it was just the thrill of earning money
while I had sex with some very attractive woman. Now the sex has
turned to work and the money seems to disappear in only days.
Yup, you guessed it, I was a male hooker, gigolo, whatever you wish to
call me. I don't walk the streets waiting for a woman to "purchase"
me. Hell no. I stalk them, going to hotels, airport, even grocery
malls. Most of my clients are ladies whom have been for
a very long time, their spouses are not loving nor good in bed. They
wouldn't ever admit to being with me, nor would they have gone looking
for a of my skills.
I have many about delicious sex scenes and gorgeous ladies.
But this is a little different. I put on a show for my clients, and
in reality don't expose much in the way of emotion. I have seen it
all, tasted it all, and f*cked it all.
Yet Samantha was different!
You guessed it. She was indeed a client. One that I had found
drowning her sorrows in alcohol at a small pub late one night.
Usually I only proposition the older, obviously wealthier woman. But
this lady looked down and was very attractive, and I knew I had a
remedy for her. At least temporarily.
From her point of view, she saw a well dressed sitting at
the bar looking at her calmly with a smile upon his face. When I saw
her eyes finally look steadily into mine, either questioning or
daring, I knew she was another prospective client.
"Excuse me madam, would it be too forward of me to ask to sit with
you?"
She looked surprised but nodded yes. Then she took my offered hand
and I told her my name and she hers. I knew the name Samantha was not
real, few of my clients used a real name. And I didn't us mine
either, going by Caesar.
I sat across from her at the small round table and began an animated
conversation with her. This part of the job was perhaps the easiest.
If a woman was feeling neglected or saddened with her lot in life, she
is most thrilled with the pleasure of a openly talking with her.
Sex did not come into the until later. Samantha evaded the
subject of marriage and I knew that was why she sat hear and drank
booze by herself at one in the morning.
The initial seduction was just talking and getting to know the ladies.
If that was accomplished the other parts were easy. A woman is most
comfortable if she is relaxed and happy. To that end I am also good
at making a lady laugh, a sound that I particularly enjoy.
From the talking soon followed the casual glances and a brief touch,
perhaps a hand upon my arm. It took quite some time before Samantha
was laughing with me, her hand reaching across to pat the back of
mine. I knew if I go to fast, this one would quickly be gone.
Something was the matter with this woman, and a remote part of me
wanted to help, the other part said stick to business.
My new friend and I talked for almost a full hour, I beginning the
perfect listener, while I comfortably let her do most of the talking.
I could see that my powers of seduction had not been wasted with this
lonely woman. Her breathing was long and heavy, her nipples obviously
pointing in this warm environment, her hand almost constantly holding
mine. But it was her eyes that told me the tale, when this lady was
open to a suggestion of love.
I was pleasantly surprised when she suggested we go "upstairs". I
thought I would have to ask that question. Now all that was left was
my fee? I saw the shocked look upon her face turn to relief when I
told her. She nodded, with a delightful blush on her cheeks. With
some woman it was easier to cheat on their with a total stranger.
With some keeping it professional and detached was safer.
I being the perfect gentleman paid the drinks and held the door to the
elevator as she entered it. Another gentleman was eying my maid, but
she ignored both of us. We emptied onto her floor and I followed her
to a classically boring hotel room.
Only after the door was closed did Samantha change her demeanour.
"How much do you cost?" Honest question. I told her and she gasped,
yet didn't complain only dig into her purse for the funds. She held
the bundle of cash out to me, but I ignored it and nodded for her to
place it on the side table. "Take your clothes off, I want to see you
naked." She ordered, now knowing her place.
My clothes were quickly discarded. I lay upon the bed and watched her
watch me. To hasten her, I began to stroke my sex, heightening its
excitement. Before she could begin to disrobe, I jumped up and went
to her side. My hands found the buttons and zippers to her clothing
and I soon disrobed her. I found many women enjoyed being stripped by
their partner, a foreign thing to many a woman. As I worked,
her right hand had found and grasped my penis, ensuring its size from
shrinking with her firm grasp.
A sigh escaped her mouth as her lips finally found mine. My tongue
slowly speared into her mouth fondling her lips and teeth. My free
hand reached behind her and grasped her round bottom, feeling the
wonderful texture and smoothness. The other held the back of her
head, firmly yet gently. Perhaps there was something she wanted from
me that could not be found at home. Usually with my clients their was
something they wanted. Tenderness, passion, compassion, or...!
She pulled her lips from mine and whispered, "I want you to...", she
paused and had trouble swallowing, "...spank me." The last spoken so
quietly that I almost didn't hear it. Yet it was not an unusual
request, some woman enjoy the pat of a hand upon the bottom as a form
of excitement. Myself I didn't enjoy such, but didn't mind giving.
"Come here." I walked backwards to the bed, holding her hand with my
own. I sat on the edge of the bed, and nodded for her to bend over my
lap. Her eyes got bigger and a large smile appeared upon her face.
Almost dainty she bent forward until the majority of her weight was
upon my lap. Of course her round bottom was raised mightily in the
air. What a gorgeous sight it was, I placed a hand gently upon that
fair white skin and fondled the soft skin. Several minutes went by
and I knew that waiting for her punishment can be a torture in itself,
so I took my time. I sensed that only a light tap would do to satisfy
this lady, yet I always do as much as possible to please my customers!
Samantha would leave with a very large smile upon her face, let alone
being very tired.
My hand very quickly rose up and then dropped to her delightful
bottom. I was sorry to do it, yet it is what the customer ordered,
and it is what the customer is going to get. Samantha jerked mightily
as the hand hit flatly upon her smooth bottom. As my hand rose again,
I could see that a my hand was imprinted with a mark upon that
white skin. Again the hand hit, she jerked again upon my lap, her
legs kicking out. Again. And again. Her reactions were getting more
violent with each slap, yet my spankings were always with the same
strength. She was even sobbing to herself, but she knew her place,
she could easily order me to stop. She didn't.
Yet her bottom was a bright and her body shining with the sheen of
a fine sweat. Her hair was in a disorder and her hands were
trembling. It was time, "Onto the bed Samantha." I spoke with a
neutral voice, not revealing anything to the already tired woman. I
could see her face as she climbed upon the bed, her face showed her
exhaustion but she also had a huge pleasant smile. She choose the
position that she wanted, on her hands and knees. My personal
favourite actually.
I knelt behind her, my iron hard penis expertly aimed right at her
pulsating wet sex. Without hand I sunk forward and felt myself sink
deep into her vagina. Samantha sighed hugely then dropped to her
shoulders, presenting me with her abused and asset. I didn't
begin my male thrusts yet, no, instead I rubbed my hand over that
hotly throbbing buttocks. She was a very attractive woman, and I had
secretly enjoyed smacking her bottom. Yet would never admit it to
anyone.
My hands slide around her and felt for her full breasts, immediately
feeling the hard poking nipples between my finger and thumb. She
groaned again, her voice gasped out, "Please...begin...!"
The customer is always right. I pulled my shaft all the way out
before driving it back into her. She began to softly whimper into the
pillow before her face. I grabbed the back of her hair with one hand
and pulled her face from the bed. "There is no reason to be quiet
Samantha. Scream as loud as you want, no one will care." I proved my
point with a sharp tap to one of her tender rear cheeks with my free
hand. She did indeed scream, a loud passion filled scream, filled
with pleasure and enjoyment. I began to earnestly pump into that warm
wet gully off love. My long penis pulling all the way out
before driving back in.
Some ladies that I serviced turned into a wild woman upon paying their
fee. Yet Samantha only wanted the closeness and passion of a orgasm
that she had silently requested I give her. Sometimes with a customer
I turned into a machine, using my devices and experience to bring out
the desired effect.
I began to feel the familiar tingling deep inside behind my balls.
And by the sounds Samantha was giving, it would soon be the same for
her. I wanted to give her a orgasm that would haunt her fantasies for
many years. I jerked the tip of my cock deep inside her bringing a
surprised yet favourable effect upon the lady. And it also caused her
orgasm to begin.
The inner muscles of her love channel rippled delightful along the
length of my penis. She got extremely wet, screamed very loudly,
every muscle in her body moved separately. There was no doubt that
Samantha enjoyed herself immensely. It stimulated my own orgasm,
allowing me to shoot my tribute deep within her. It only caused her
to shiver more violently.
I stood above her as she only lay in exhaustion, her head turned the
other way. I looked within her handbag, my curiosity peaked, doing
something I rarely did. The wrinkled tear stained letter I found was
proof of what was troubling this beauty. A "dear Jane" letter, the
kind mostly associated with a separation. This time it spelled the
end to Samantha's marriage. A part of my tore inside and I refolded
the letter and replaced it as I had found it.
For many years I pleased woman, now I wanted to please again, this
time for someone that needed it. I gently turned her upon her back,
spreading her legs. Her eyes were half open as she watched me, often
looking down upon my tired wet cock. I kept my eyes onto hers as I
lowered my lips to her vagina. I began to please this woman with my
long years of professional love making.
Samantha arched her back upwards, her hands came to grasp the top of
my head. I began to gently stimulate that wonderful stranger organ
that woman are entrusted with. I knew this woman would wake late the
next morning, the money she offered me still on the dresser, exhausted
and happy. For some reason that was enough of a reason to do
everything to make her happy. Very little mattered in life for me at
that moment except to make this lady smile with genuine pleasure. Its
something I do well, its my job!
-*-
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