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Below are the 17 most recent journal entries recorded in deviantfics' LiveJournal:

Sunday, February 12th, 2006
11:28 am
I don't normally rec fics, but I found this one and you all should go read it. Warning - it's sad.
Saturday, November 26th, 2005
9:30 am
You locked the door behind you
Like locking us out of of your lives
We love you
We want you
We need you

Don't give up on us.

Current Mood: Terrified
Saturday, November 5th, 2005
7:01 am
This and the last story are from a longer series, which I'm not going to post 'cause some of it sucks

There were still several people in the hallways and the lobby, but somehow being in my new collar made me feel safe and protected from the strangeness around me, and the appreciative looks of these people toward my Mistress thrilled me too.

Yes, I thought, that’s right. I’m with her. She’s my Mistress. I smiled at a blushing young woman in a thin red collar, and she grinned at me, checking out Mistress Abigail’s rear end as we passed. It felt wonderful.

I drove the rental sports car according to Mistress Abigail’s directions about 2 miles to a small dark restaurant with the simple name “Bill’s” on the front sign in red. We parked in the small lot, which was nearly full, and I opened her door for her and we went in.

The outside of the building was a simple brick building with darkened windows, which made the inside much more startling. As soon as I opened the door for my Mistress the sound of a deep rumbling bass line could be heard, but it was not loud or overpowering. I could hear conversation over it easily, but it lent a club edge to the place. The walls were painted in startlingly bright swirling colors, but the ceiling and floor were both jet black and lined with backlights.

A host podium stood just inside the door, and a woman in a very short plaid skirt and black t-shirt stood beside it setting menus in their place.

“Two?” She asked.

“Yes,” replied Mistress Abigail. “A private booth please if you have one.”

“One just opened up. Follow me.”

We followed her into the dining room, which had about three dozen tables and booths, many of which were currently filled by couples and groups dressed very similarly to us. Many of the men and two of the women were shirtless, and I was mildly surprised to see that this was not limited to people who were in good physical shape. Wasn’t that fat guy in the corner embarrassed to be seen without his shirt on in public?

“If you keep staring, boy, these people will all have something to stare at,” Mistress Abigail threatened quickly. I obediently looked at the black tiled floor as we reached a round booth towards the back of the dining room, which was mostly surrounded by bright blue walls. The booth seat itself was glittered purple, and a red lamp hung over the black vinyl covered table.

“Trina will be with you shortly,” the hostess said, leaving two menus on the table. We slid into the booth, and my Mistress sat herself right next to me, with our legs pressed against each other. This firm touch alone was enough to stir my cock in my khakis, and I smiled. She leaned over so her mouth was nearly against my ear, and breathed gently across the back of my neck.

“I will order for you. Keep your eyes down; you will not need to look at the other patrons.”

“Can I get you two something to drink?” A voice asked. I continued to look at my hands, hoping I did not look to the waitress as if I were in trouble. She most likely knew though.

“I know what we would like to order,” Mistress Abigail replied, pushing the menus across the table.

“Okay, shoot then.”

“Two cokes, mine with slice of lime. Also, two hamburgers, no cheese, with lettuce, tomato, and onions.”

“Fries or baked potato?”

“Fries please. Hold onto the check too. If he behaves himself we’ll be having dessert.”

I smiled to myself with relief. If dessert was a possibility I must not be in too much trouble. The waitress wrote everything down and headed off for our drinks. As soon as she turned her back my Mistress’ hand slipped between my legs, and quite gently cupped my groin. My cock responded immediately to her touch, and she smiled as she felt it harden slightly beneath her hand. The black vinyl tablecloth ensured our privacy, and I kept my eyes firmly on my own hands above the table.

“Now, besides that mistake as we came in, you have behaved well today. I promised you we’d play more when we got here, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Mistress Abigail,” I murmured. Her hand began to slide along the length of my growing erection, and her mouth returned to my neck. She kissed me on my collarbone very lightly. A tiny gasp escaped my mouth as I thrilled at her touch.

Just as she unzipped my pants to retrieve my fully erect dick from my pants the waitress returned, and set the glasses onto the table. Mistress Abigail lifted her hand furthest from me, with a bill in it, and handed it to the waitress.

“Hold our food and give us a few minutes, okay?” She said. The waitress took the bill, winked, and headed towards a different table quickly. Then my Mistress’ hand was back in my boxers, pulling my hard cock free of its fabric prison, and quite firmly stroking it with one hand under the table. Her free hand lifted her drink; she pulled an ice cube between her teeth, and returned her very cold mouth to the back of my neck. I shivered, clenching my hands into fists as she ran the cold ice up to my hairline, and then down my neck to my shoulder. The ice cube melted quickly, leaving streams of water sliding over the front and back of my shoulder. Her hand never changed rhythm, pumping just as hard as I liked it.

When the ice cube was gone her free hand joined the other, and cupped my balls firmly. I grunted with pleasure, trying not to make any sounds louder than the low thudding of the music still playing on speakers overhead.

“I want you to come for me, boy, right in front of all these people. They are not looking though, so stay quiet. Come for me, but don’t get us kicked out.” Her mouth was back next to my ear, so close I could feel her breath. It raised the hairs on my neck.

Luckily I was very close to orgasm already, and knowing that was what she wanted was all it took. I spread my feet just slightly under the table, and took several gasping breaths as I came hard into her hands and onto the seat between my legs.

“Good boy… yes… I’ve wanted that from you all day, boy. Now zip up so we can eat.” She handed me a paper napkin from the table, and I carefully mopped up the seat between my legs while my breath and heart rate slowed. She got up from the table and walked towards the sign reading “Restrooms.” She spoke to our waitress on the way, and before she had returned our burgers were in front of us, ready to eat.

Current Mood: horny
6:58 am
“This is a big responsibility, boy. Will you be good and make sure everything is done properly?” My Mistress had asked, glancing at the long list of instructions she had left on her coffee table.

“Yes, Mistress Abigail. I will be good,” I responded. Her instructions were clear, and I had house sat before. I was not concerned about my ability to comply with her instructions.

At least, that had been two weeks ago. It is easy to become distracted and lax with instructions that are minutely detailed, especially when there is no one to supervise you. I was certain that everything would look as though it had been done to the letter when my Mistress returned however. Her cat’s box was clean, her house was clean, her mail was sorted, and her television was set back to the same channel it had been on when she left.

I arrived to pick my Mistress up at the airport Sunday morning right on time, and returned her to the apartment. I carried her bags carefully inside, and my Mistress instructed me to unpack them in the bedroom while she took care of some work in the office. I obeyed, neatly putting her business suit, casual clothing, and toiletries away. When I was finished, and had returned her empty suitcase to it’s place in her closet, I stood in her bedroom and waited.

Eventually, I sat on her chair and waited. My mind wandered. I watched out her bedroom window at some children playing in the park next door. My stomach began to rumble.

The door to the bedroom slammed open, revealing my Mistress glaring at me, nearly uncontrolled rage apparent on her face. I jumped to my feet, startled, and looked at her in confusion.

“Come with me,” she said in a very quiet voice.

I followed quickly behind her into the office, and my heart sank as I saw what was on her computer. A low-resolution black and white video feed showed a picture of me, sitting on her couch, with the remote control in my hand. I realized from the angle that the camera was right on top of the fireplace mantle. Humiliated, I hung my head.

“Must you… be supervised… constantly?” She demanded in a low growl. I felt tears coming to my eyes. I should have known she would have a way to make sure I behaved! What could I say?

“Yes, Mistress Abigail. I think so.”

“You think so? You think? I don’t believe you thought at all. I don’t think you thought of my trust in you, of the well being of my cat, or your own hide.” She took a deep breath, visibly working to calm herself. I was shaking too, terrified that she would simply cast me out and tell me to never return. I wanted to curl up on the floor, cry, and beg her forgiveness, but I could think of nothing that would help the situation so I waited.

“You have a choice. You can leave. Now. This can end. Now. Or… you may stay, and take what punishment I feel is necessary. If, during your punishment, you feel that it has surpassed your limits, you will safe word, dress, and leave. You will not return. If you are still here when I am done punishing you, perhaps… perhaps you will not have to go. Do you understand?” She asked. Her voice was low and firm. This was not up for discussion, even if I had felt I could discuss it with her.

“I… I understand Mistress Abigail. I will stay. I will take your punishment. I wish to show you I am sorry.”

“You will be far more than sorry, you stupid boy. You will beg my forgiveness, and still I will not be done punishing you.” She paused, still calming herself with deep breaths. “Do you have sick time available to you at work?”

“Yes Mistress Abigail. I have four days sick time.” I responded.

“Call your workplace. Leave a message saying you will be out tomorrow. Leave my number saying they can speak with you here. Then go to the bedroom. Strip naked, and leave your clothing folded neatly on the chair.”

“Yes Mistress Abigail.” I fled from the room, not quite running, and rushed to the nearest telephone. I dialed work, and left a brief message on my boss’ answering machine. I knew he would not call, but I left the number anyway. Then I continued into the bedroom as my Mistress closed the curtains in her living room and pulled open the door to the living room closet. I was naked as quickly as possible, and stood, with silent tears sliding down my cheeks.

I could hear the sound of wood and metal from the living room, but my Mistress did not call for me. I waited, wondering what she was doing, and growing chilly from standing naked in her bedroom. Nonetheless, I waited longer, until I was sobbing quietly, my shoulders shaking. Would she give more than I could take? Would I use my safe word under her lash, and leave in disgrace? I was willing to risk the possibility, but I was terrified.

After long minutes, my sobbing calmed, and I stood sniffing. My Mistress appeared in the doorway, and crossed to her closet. She pulled her traveling clothes off one piece at a time, and left them on the floor. The she turned to me, her naked body showing tense muscles.

“Put these in the laundry hamper,” she ordered, motioning briefly to the clothing. “Then take my toy chest into the living room, and leave it next to the cross I set up. Wait for me there.”

She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower as I carefully put her clothing into the hamper. Then I lugged the large chest from the foot of her bed out into the living room, where she had set up a large black cross against a wall that was usually empty. She had moved a loveseat slightly to one side, but it was clear that this part of the wall had been used for this cross before. In fact, I could see small marks on the green wallpaper left by the cross’ black paint on some previous occasion.

When the toy chest was set in front of the TV I waited again, but this time not for very long before the shower turned off. I heard rustling for a few minutes, and then Mistress Abigail appeared again in the doorway. She had dressed in a pair of slightly scuffed combat boots, a black satin skirt that barely covered her bottom, and a black satin bra. Her long hair was wrapped up in a bun held by two black sticks.

My Mistress crossed to the chest, opened it with a combination I could not see, and inspected the contents. She pulled out first a black collar that I had worn many times before, and placed it around my neck. Then she added a padlock to the back of it, and snapped it in place. I stood passively, still sniffing when necessary. Then she pulled a small black contraption from the box, and applied the leather cage to my genitals. It was a series of small black straps that effectively bound my cock and balls quite firmly. I doubted I would be fully aroused any time soon, but I could tell if I were that it would be an uncomfortable experience. A small metal ring was attached to the top of the cage, and my Mistress attached to that a chain that eventually led up to a pair of cloverleaf clamps. She applied these unceremoniously to my nipples.

This hurt. It was the first bit of genuine pain I had felt from her this day, and some small amount of relief came from that. If I was hurting, she would be feeling better. As long as I was hurting I was doing penance for my misbehavior.

The last thing I saw come out of the chest was a black blindfold. She set this around my face, blocking my sight of what she could be doing.

“Can you see?” She asked.

“No Mistress Abigail.”

Finally, she turned me around, and set my body against the cross. The chains on my nipples pulled slightly against it, sharpening the pain for a moment. I breathed through it, and kept quiet. I felt fur lined cuffs placed gently around my wrists, and then they were connected to the cross with my arms out and up. The same was done to my ankles, making my lean some of my weight onto the cross. I relaxed against it, with my head rocking forward slightly. It wasn’t uncomfortable… yet.

I felt a soft round ball being placed into one of my hands.

“This is your safe word. If you drop this ball, I will stop. Remember… if you safe word, if you drop this ball, I stop forever. Not just for today. Understand?”

“I understand Mistress Abigail,” I replied. I squeezed the ball, determined to hold on tightly.

I could hear her walk away a small way, and then the click of something electronic. Then, without much warning, loud music filled the room. The beat was fast and electronic, with a heavy thuddy back beat. It was the sort of music I thought of when I pictured what the inside of a major S&M club might be, though I had never been to something so public. There were no lyrics, at least at first.

Along with the thudding of that heavy back beat came blows on my upper back. I recognized Mistress Abigail’s light leather flogger, and the gentler touch she used when just starting out a session of flogging. The only part that hurt yet was the slight tug on my nipples with every hit, but these numbed slightly as the blows came harder and became painful in their own right.

The music seemed to bore into my skull, melding with the slowly growing pain of the leather on my back. Between songs my Mistress switched to a heavier flogger, bringing a deeper pain into the beating, and renewed the twinge of the clamps on my nipples. This pain was beginning to bring a reaction from the rest of my body, and I could feel goose bumps on my arms and legs, as well as the beginning of swelling in my groin. I couldn’t help but respond to this kind of bearable pain with an erotic response; the ideas had been too intertwined for me for a long time now. I breathed deeply both to tolerate the pain and to try to will my cock to relax.

My hand stayed firmly closed around the ball, because I felt in someway like it was my only connection to the woman hitting me. I could not hear her at all over the loud music, or even the sound of the flogger coming through the air toward me. I could hear it hit my body, but her sense of rhythm was perfect, and the thudding of leather on flesh melded into the industrial tones perfectly.

Eventually the repeated hits from the flogger were hurting badly enough that I could feel myself buckling at the knees. I was panting heavily, and would have asked her to stop if this was any other day. But because I knew if I did so I would not see her again, and because I trusted her not to do me serious injury, I held the soft ball just as tightly, and tried to focus on something else. My cock was limp again now, and my nipples totally numb, which could have been counted as a blessing, except that it only forced me to focus more on the repeated impact of her flogger.

The fourth song ended, and the blows stopped just as abruptly. Then a new sound came in, of a distinctly different song.

Tell myself, on the ride home.
Getting tired, hating all I've known.
Holding on, like it's all I have.
Count me out, when it's clear that I find it hard to say.
And you find it hard to care.

I focused on the lyrics, trying to breath off some of the agony in my back. I could hear Mistress Abigail moving behind me, and then coming up beside me. She reached over and unclipped the clamps on my nipples, causing me to cry out in pain. I couldn’t help it; the pain was just totally different and unexpected.

“Shut up boy, and listen.”

I wanted to see something that's different; something you said would change in me.
Wanted to be, anything different, everything you would change in me.

I did not know the song, but I listened to the best of my ability, thinking that changing sounded very good to me right now. I wanted to change; I wanted to be her good boy…

Got this way, upfront but never true.
God I'm wrong, it's just the way I am.
Crashing down, any chance you hear.
Caving in, any chance that you could see inside of me.
And I, I'll know what to say, It's fine.
This isn't Hollywood.
So fine, getting in your way.

Mistress Abigail’s hand came down on my bottom almost gently, once, then twice, following every other beat in the already slow song. She was somewhere between patting me and hitting me, just gently enough that it made no noise. My cock perked up to this sensation, however, sending it into it’s own uncomfortably contained world.

I wanted to see something that's different, something you said would change in me.
Wanted to be, anything different, everything you would change in me.

I'm taking a chance, this could be different.
This could be all I'm waiting for.
Taking a chance, this could be different.
This could be all I'm waiting for.

When the song ended I realized I was crying again. It wasn’t just the pain in my back, or the discomfort of the near-spanking and near-hard-on I was experiencing. It was also that the song had pretty much identified how I was feeling. I did want to be her good boy, I did want to behave for her, and I did want to be a very different person than the lazy jerk this experience had shown me to be.

There was a long pause after the song, and then a slower version of the heavy industrial rock that had been playing earlier returned. My Mistress’ spanking increased with it, in both tempo and force. Soon, she was coming down as hard on my ass as she had been on my back. After one song she switched to a paddle, and got both cheeks until they stung so badly I expected that I would not be able to sit for several days.

I was sagging at the knees again, allowing the cross and my wrist cuffs to hold me up. Tears had soaked the blindfold and I could nearly hear my own sobbing over the mind-pounding beat of the music.

After the second heavy song the music ended, leaving a ringing in my ears. I was acutely aware of the heaviness of my Mistress’ breathing, and I was not surprised that she chose that time to unhook first my ankles, and then my wrists from the cross. I collapsed on the floor, unable to hold myself up, and kneeled there, panting and sobbing for a few long minutes while I heard my Mistress moving about and turning on a faucet. She returned, and pulled my blindfold off my face. The room was darker, lit only by the light from her bedroom, and she was holding a large glass of water out to me.

“Drink,” she commanded. I did, swallowing the full glass even though my stomach was clenched. She reached down and unclipped the chain from the cage round my cock, and tossed it, the leather cuffs, and the blindfold into the toy box, which she then closed and locked.

“Lay down,” she ordered. I flopped onto the carpet, shaking as the room spun around me. She went back into the kitchen, refilled the glass, and set it on top of the toy chest.

“You may have more water if you need it. You may use the second bathroom if you need it. Otherwise, stay there. I will see you when I am ready. I suggest you try to sleep.”

She turned, and went into her room and closed the door. I closed my eyes in the darkness and began to cry again.

It wasn’t until I had nearly fallen asleep that I realized I was still holding the small soft ball in my tightly clenched fist

Current Mood: horny
6:56 am
Another just a story
“Kneel… here,” he instructed, guiding her knees toward the arm of the couch. She kneeled on the cushion and placed her hands on the arm, looking over her shoulder at her Master. He smiled at her, with a long hungry look at her naked form, and reached into the duffle bag beside the couch. He pulled out a length of black rope and a short spreader bar. The bar was placed between her ankles, and he proceeded to bind her ankles to it with the rope, wrapping it several times around each ankle.

“Give me your left hand,” he said when her ankles were quite firmly bound. She placed her left hand behind her, and he took it, pulling back and down firmly, until the wrist met with her left bound ankle. He ran the rope through the d-ring on her thick black wrist cuff, and back through the eye screw on the spreader bar, finally tying the end of the rope off. Her body was forced to double over, leaving her rear in the air, and she continued to look over her shoulder at him, now with surprise in her eyes.

“Give me your right hand,” he continued, and this hand met the right ankle in the same fashion. Now all of her weight was on her knees on the couch cushion, and on her head with rested on the arm, turned to the side. She watched as he tied the final knot, and the surprise in her eyes was replaced by hunger and a little fear.

Knowing the position would not be comfortable for long, her Master immediately placed a hand between her legs, covering her displayed cunt with the palm of his hand, and teasing at her clit. He inhaled with her gasp, watching her back arch with the sensation, and pulled at his belt with his free hand. He was shirtless already, and left his black jeans on the floor next to his duffle bag. As soon as he was in only his boxers, and heavy boots, he pulled his hand back from her genitals, and inserted two fingers deeply into her. She moaned into the soft arm of the couch.

“Oh, like that do you?”

“Yes… Yes Sir.”

“Do you want to be fucked, girl? You want your Master to fuck you?”

“Yes Sir. Please… oh… please fuck me,” she moaned, pushing her body backwards to meet his thrusting fingers. He pulled his cock from his boxers, running his hand along the hardening length with no hurry.

“I’m not ready to fuck you yet. Will you make me ready, slut?”

“Let me suck you, Master. Please…”

He stood, pulling his hand from her again, and she whimpered slightly with the loss of pleasure. He came around to the arm of the couch, and she lifted her head, struggling to reach him. Her squirms went a long way to bringing him to full hardness, and he was nearly ready when he brought the head of his cock to her mouth. Her lips closed around him greedily, and he pushed slowly into her warm mouth. A slow breath came between his lips as he placed one hand behind her head, making his control over her complete. His fingers wrapped in her hair as he pushed her head toward him, and he let her suck eagerly for a few long minutes.

“That’s my good little cocksucker. Take it all for your Master.” She closed her eyes, relaxing and letting him fill her throat. She ran her tongue firmly along the underside of his dick as he pulled back. Her neck would get stiff quickly he knew, so he pulled away before he really wanted to, letting his girl relax her head against the couch arm. He untangled his fingers from her hair gently, and ran his hand through it once, barely letting the pads of his fingers touch her neck. She turned her face over her other shoulder, stretching the muscles as he came back around to her spread bottom.

“What a little whore you are, so eager for my cock.” His fingers entered her again, easily sliding in. She was very wet now, and he teased the sensitive spots inside her until she writhed against his hand. His thumb rubbed against her clit, firmly but not quite enough to hurt her. His free hand stayed on his own groin, but the sensation of her wetness and tensing muscles was far better for keeping him ready than his own hand could ever be.

Finally he pulled his hand out of her, and kneeled behind her, pulling back on her hips with his dry hand. He pushed the wet fingers of his left hand into her mouth as his cock entered her, and she sucked them with as much abandon as she had sucked his cock earlier. His right hand gripped her hips as he began to thrust firmly and she grunted around her mouthful of sticky hand.

“You clean up your messes, that’s right. Lick them clean like a good girl,” he instructed, and her tongue wrapped around the base of his fingers until she gagged on them and he pulled his hand away. Still sticky and wet with saliva, he pushed his hand into her hair, and took a handful of her short blond curls. Still thrusting with long firm strokes, he pushed her face down into the cushioned arm of the couch, and watched as her shoulders tensed with her urge to get free. She wiggled, making his cock ache with its hardness, and he sped his rhythm. He pulled back on her hair just as it became clear to her that she really couldn’t move, and pushed her head to the side.

His hands stayed gripping her hair and her hip as he fucked her, feeling his own urgency build. She was moaning with pleasure and frustration as he gasped in his own lust. Every time she squirmed beneath him he came closer to orgasm, until finally he felt the pressure was too much to hold onto any longer.

“Tell me you want me to come for you,” he hissed.

”P…P…Please Master… Please come for me. I want you to come inside me, please Sir…” she begged, gasping as she spoke. He shuddered, letting go of her hair and grabbing her hips with both hands as he thrust into her as hard as he could, coming in waves of release.

When he pulled away from her, struggling to catch his breath, the room spun around his head. He tried to concentrate, pulling at the knots on her bindings to set her free. Finally, as the final coil around her ankles came free, he allowed himself to collapse in a heap on the floor. She joined him, sweaty and panting, until they would recover enough to continue their day.

Current Mood: horny
6:54 am
Just a story
She lay quietly on the warmed red flannel sheet I had spread on my bed, with her eyes hidden behind a soft blindfold. The black collar shone against her flushed skin, and the light of a dozen candles jumped in reflections off the metal handcuffs around her wrists. Now that she was blinded I pulled my shirt over my head, and folded it on top of the clothing she had worn here. My jeans bulged over the hard cock in them, larger than she normally liked. It felt unusually heavy to me, grounding me in my place as Master.

I could see her head tilt just slightly, trying to tell what I was doing by sound. I lifted a bottle of oil from the table next to the bed, and let some of it pour into my hand. It was warm already from sitting so close to the candles, and I carefully rubbed it evenly over her shoulders, back, and bottom, leaving a very faint sheen on her skin. It smelled very slightly of cinnamon and cloves. She relaxed further onto the bed, smiling just slightly, and I felt myself smile too. It was a good thing she couldn’t see the mischievous twinkle my smile held.

The next thing I lifted from the table was a large glass enclosed paraffin candle. I laid my left hand gently on her bottom, feeling the smoothness of her skin and the slight slick of oil there, and tilted the candle just enough to drip several large clear drops of oil onto her upper back. She gasped, and her muscles jumped slightly with surprise.

“Don’t move,” I commanded, managing to sound quite serious through my delight. My hand rubbed her bottom now, as I tilted the candle further, and closer to her back. Hotter and thicker wax hit her pale skin, but she managed to stay still and breath deeply through the sensation. I paused for a moment, and then moved the candle lower, to the sensitive small of her back, and began to drip there, in small drops at first, and then with more, letting it run over her sides to her stomach. Her forehead bunched for a moment, but she immediately forced it to relax.

I tilted the candle again, leaving a second stream of wax next to the last one, leaving the skin around it pink.

Several inches of wax had melted in the candle, and I used all of it, leaving most of her back covered in a thin layer of white cooling material. When the candle had nothing left to give me, I set it down, and could immediately see the twitch of disappointment around her lips. That was okay. She was warm and pink now, her nerves quite prepared for more.

I ran my hand over her back, and most of the wax came up from the oil immediately. It came off in three large pieces, and I dropped them quickly into the trash, admiring the red glow of her skin under.

I stood for a moment, next to the bed, and unzipped my jeans. I let them fall to the ground and left them there.

“Put your bottom in the air, but do not move your elbows,” I instructed. She did, bending her knees, but leaving her arms on the bed. “Spread your knees.” She did this too, leaving her pussy right where I could see it. I pulled the hard cock out of my boxers, and the bottle of lube from next to the oil. I crawled back up onto the bed behind her, touching my warm cock to the back of her thigh as I stroked the lube onto it. Then I laid two fingers against her clit, running them very lightly backwards.

“Are you warm for me yet, girl?”

“Yes Master.”

“Are you wet for me?”

“Yes Master.”

“Do you want my cock inside you?”

“Yes Master, I do… please fuck me.” She responded. I was pretty sure she actually meant it. I slid my first finger inside her, despite my own urging to take her quite roughly and immediately.

“Slut. All you want from me is a good fucking, isn’t it?” I pulled my finger out of her and smacked it across her bottom with just enough force to create a good sound. She jumped.

“Oh, please fuck me Master!” She responded, her eyebrows knitting as she tried to keep her elbows in one place and rock back towards me at the same time. I kneeled up closer to her, with my cock resting just below her body so it would brush against her clit when she moved her hips. Then I reached for the last thing I had left on the bedside table, leaning much of my body against hers as I did so.

As the ice touched her warm back she did shriek, arching her back, and then moaned with real agony. Somehow, despite my hopes, her elbows did not move. But I used my free hand to guide my cock into her then, filling her gently but quickly, and quite completely. I knew that hurt too, at least a little, but she had asked for it. I moved the ice along the lines where the wax had so recently been, and she bucked against my pelvis making me gasp with the pleasure of her movements.

“Tell me you like it, slut. Tell me how good my cock feels,” I urged, grunting just slightly as I tried to pull her into a rhythm with me with the ice-free hand.

“Oh god… fuck me, Master. Your… cock feels… so good. Yes…” She was whimpering, and I suspected she was caught between the pain and pleasure of the moment, but I had quit caring. When the ice had fully melted I pulled back on her hips with both hands, pushing myself into her with a slow but firm rhythm.

“You’re a good slut for me,” I told her. “I love being inside your tight pussy, especially when you squirm for me.” I grunted and moaned through a few more minutes of steady thrusting, trying not to be so hard or so fast that I would hurt her in such a way that it would limit her later, but it wasn’t easy.

“Do you want me to come for you, little whore? Do you want your Master’s come now.”

“Yes…” she hissed between clenched teeth. “Yes… Master. Please come for me.”

If I had not feared hurting her I suspected I could most likely have come for real, shoving myself into her full force. Instead, I let myself give her the show she wanted, as noisy as I dared, and pulled my cock away before I would let myself give in to more primal urges. I pulled myself up next to her on the bed, and she relaxed, laying back down on her stomach and shivering slightly. I wrapped an arm around her, and watched the candle flames for a moment before we finished our scene.

Current Mood: horny
Thursday, August 26th, 2004
11:00 pm
What It Feels Like
Title: What It Feels Like
Author: Deviantfics
Characters: Seamus Finnigan
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, Song is property of Madonna.
Setting: Hogwarts, 4rd year.
Warnings: Underage character (15), wanking, cross-dressing, gender-angst, psudo-slash (if slash squicks you, I bet this will too).
Songfic: What it Feels Like for a Girl - Madonna, "Music"

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Current Mood: accomplished
Wednesday, August 18th, 2004
11:37 am
I cannot find this damned community belleweather was talking about last night with the tranny potter stuff.... AHHHH!

Sunday, August 8th, 2004
7:19 pm
I finally have one user pic, but I wanted more pairing related one. Ah well, too bad I suck at graphic-y stuff.

Current Mood: creative
Thursday, July 8th, 2004
7:58 pm
These are the lyrics to my up-coming Song-fic. It's Aluminum by the Barenaked Ladies. It's from Everything to Everyone. The story will be Hermione/Draco, from Draco's point of view. I've never written anything with a slytherin before, it should be interesting.


How, in every visible way, you shine
As if the stars in your wake align
Almost impossible to malign

But just below where you shine, you burn
Although I know it, I never learn
Just goes to show that I can't discern

Aluminum to me
Aluminium to some
You can shine like silver all you want
But you're just Aluminum

Illuminating just what you want to show
You'd never rust, but I'd never know
You can't be trusted, I can't let go


Every time you're here, I forget
When you leave, you leave only regret
Every time you're here, I forget

You're so lightweight, how can you survive?
Recycling moments from others' lives
You're not as precious as you contrive

Yeah, you're just Aluminum

Current Mood: gloomy
Wednesday, June 23rd, 2004
7:50 pm
Title: Closet
Author: Deviantfics
Matches: Neville Longbottom/Ron Weasley
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, the rest is mine.
Setting: Hogwarts, 3rd year.
Warnings: Chan (aka underage characters)

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7:38 pm
Further Bound
Title: Further Bound
Author: Deviantboi
Matches: Neville Longbottom/Seamus Finnigan.
Point of view: Third person.
Rating: NC-17 for sexual contact between adults
Disclaimer: It's all JK Rowlings, I'm only playing with them.
Sequel to "Bound Longbottom"
Warnings: It's slash. If that squicks you, why are you reading my page? It's also heavy bondage, heavy dominance and submission, and mild pain play. If that squicks you, don't read it.

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7:32 pm
Bill's Earing
The very first fanfiction I ever wrote - be nice! It's been a few years now.

Title: Bill's Earing
Author: Deviantfics
Matches: Harry Potter/Bill Weasley
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content between a minor (14) and an adult (19??)
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, the rest is mine.

This story is a cut scene from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It begins (in the American hardcover version anyway) on page 52 after the second full paragraph (if you really care), and runs through after the end of the chapter but before the next.

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7:25 pm
Bound Longbottom
Title: Bound Longbottom
Author: Deviantfics
Matches: Neville Longbottom/Seamus Finnigan
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content and BDSM
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, the rest is mine.
Setting: Hogwarts, Seamus and Neville's 6th year, Gryffindor 6th year boy's dorm.

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7:21 pm
Title: Firelight
Author: Deviantfics
Matches: Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, the rest is mine.
Setting: Hogwarts, Griffindor tower, 6th year

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7:15 pm
Author: Deviantfics
Matches: Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Lee Jordan
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, the rest is mine.
Setting: Diagon Alley, Harry et. al. 6th year

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7:13 pm
This is my new spot to post fanfiction and stories. If you know who I really am, please don't say so on the livejournal. Please. I really want to keep this page anon.

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