[Author's note: this is a verbatim transcript (minus the comings and goings of
people in the chat) of an IRC session from the #bondage chat group. It was
composed on the fly, just as you see, with the quasi-musical phrasing determined
by the max line length allowed of my chat client. "icebear" is me.]
<vision> icebear: describe for us, in full voluptious enticing drippingly seductive
detail, your most vividly lurid fantasy envolving bestiality.
Where, the 'beast' may be either a regular animal, or a
fantasized creature.
* icebear laughs -- you know me too well...
<icebear> Right. Sit back, this is gonna be juicy.
<icebear> Imagine that it is the Middle Ages. A party of noble ladies is
out riding to the hunt with their attendants.
<icebear> They've been hunting all day, and though they're quite lady-like
(horses sweat, perspire, but women only glow), they have
begun to get something of a horsy smell about them.
<icebear> One lady, in particular, is quite affected by the smell of warm
horse. She rides along, barely hearing the laughter of the other
women, not particularly thinking of anything, but just feeling
the moving between her legs, and the scent...
<icebear> Suddenly, through the branches, they see what seems like branches
moving, though it is a calm, windless day...
<icebear> There is a stag, right over there! Cheering, the ladies ride
after him, but quickly lose him, and then each other, in the
dense forest.
<icebear> Our heroine rides alone, calling for her companions. Her takes a stumble and begins to limp. She dismounts and leaves
him, walking on alone.
<icebear> She hears a noise ahead of her and hurries, thinking it's one
of her companions. As she comes into a clearing, she sees it
is the stag.
<icebear> Barely daring to breathe, she moves closer to it, and it regards
her fearlessly, with large, dark eyes.
<icebear> She stands as near as she dares, and then, to her amazement, he
comes to her of his own accord. She reaches out a trembling hand
to touch him, and he bends his head for her to scratch the base
of his antlers.
<icebear> He smells strong, too, like the horse, but different -- wilder.
She is taken by his grace, his controlled power. She looks into
his eyes, and he pushes his nose into her hand, then into her
cleavage.
<icebear> She holds his head, feeling his warm breath and the tickling
whiskers, and then unlaces her overdress and opens her shift
to him.
<icebear> She wonders if she dares guide his head to her crotch, but even
as she wonders, he bends his head to it, presenting the antlers
as though for her to hold them.
<icebear> She shivers as she feels the whiskers, then his lips nuzzling
her, and then his rough, big tongue sliding out to taste her --
as though she was a salt lick.
<icebear> She holds on to the antlers tightly, feeling the ground tipping
under her as wild charges run through her...
<icebear> It is heaven, this, but she realizes she wants more of him,
though she is sure the priest would disapprove... Her head is
spinning with confusion and desire...
<icebear> Then, suddenly, unexpectedly, her body is racked with orgasm.
She becomes wild, reckless, caring neither for church nor castle,
wanting only the wild woods and this lover she has found.
<icebear> He steps back, and she sees that the scent and taste of her has
brought his member erect out of its sheath.
<icebear> How will she do it? How will she dare? Can she stand to take
that great thing inside her?
<icebear> She decides she doesn't care how, she will try anyway. She thinks
of how she has seen the horses mate, and lifts her skirt, turning
her back to him and bending, hoping he'll guess what she means.
<icebear> She closes her eyes and waits breathlessly, bracing against the
weight she expects and the pain she fears...
<icebear> But he comes to her gently, gracefully, straddling her with long
legs rather than resting his body on her, and she feels the great,
warm head of him pressing, pressing...
<icebear> He bends his head to hers, breathing gently by her ear, and she
becomes calm, relaxed, though still hot for him.
<icebear> Now she feels him stretching her open, slowly and inexorably, all
his power still harnessed, though she can feel him trembling now.
<icebear> There is no physical way she can take his whole length, but she
feels each inch of her depth opened by him -- it hurts, but not
so badly as she had expected.
<icebear> And now he is all inside her -- or as much as he can be, and she
feels his pulse beating there, and wonders how on earth she will
bear it when he begins to thrust as she has seen the horses do.
<icebear> The pressure on her cervix makes her crazy with lust, and she
begins to move on him herself, not waiting for him to start.
<icebear> He stands stock still, like a statue of a stag, while she moves
under him, getting wilder as she becomes used to the size of him,
and her juices make the motion sweet...
<icebear> And as she comes, the world spins around her, and she feels
herself held in human arms, though still with that great member
inside her, and still seeing the shadow of antlers on the grass...
<icebear> But human lips are kissing hers even though the wild dark stag
eyes still look at her...
<icebear> and now her lover moves with her as she moves, pressing her to
him, and as she comes again and again, he answers her with his
own, and the feel of his is fire all through her.
<icebear> They do not see her at the castle anymore, though they say, when
the moon is new and only starlight shines in the clearing, a
woman like moonlight and a with stag antlers hunt the
shadows, and sing desire under the windows,
<icebear> and send wild, lustful dreams to the sleeper.
<icebear> THE END.
* vision applauds!
* icebear bows.
|
|
