Saturday, June 16, 2012



He came to her in the night—her phantom—whispering dark promises and kissed her until she ran out of breath.

Her taste, he can never get enough of.

“The universe, I will give you…” he vowed.

“No…  Just show me the stars,” She said.

And he did just that.  She saw stars when he went down on her and flicked his tongue on her hardened numb.

She could’ve sworn she saw more than stars when his tongue fucked her hole.

She believed she saw the universe he was offering her.

And then he left her—earthbound but dreaming of stars…


And the music started playing—an unheard tune heard only by them both.

She felt his touch.  He felt her soul.

He heard her heartbeat.  She heard his words.

She was all grace and sensuality.

He was the phantom that enticed her inner wanton goddess.

She shivered at his touch.

He gloried at the effect he has on her.

She was the dancer.  He was the beat.

She craved the dance.  He gave it to her.

But when the music stops, what happens then?


His voice was pure seduction—an invitation to sin.

He speaks of carnal desire—his naked lust for her unveiled.

Her hands took his full length and led him inside her.

And he was in her, moving that old familiar movement, she trailed her nails down his back and dug them in.

She turned her head to the side, closed her eyes and whispered, “Forgive me, for I have sinned…  But I want to do this again and again…”

It was his name that she screamed when she reached her pinnacle.

And when he left, he left with her heart that she freely offered.  But no, he didn’t know it.


He was different tonight, her Phantom.

He pinned her down with her wrists above her head.

“Open your legs.”  He commanded.

“Spread them wide.”  He added.

And his tongue did its wicked dance between her thighs.

But when her sharp, shuddered screams filled the room, he smiled.

It was the sweetest song she ever sang.


She waited for him but he didn’t come to her that night.

And she wanted her Phantom.

Her body ached for his touch.

Her heartbeat quickened.  Her hands started to wander.

She wanted to feel his breath on her ear.

His hands on her waist and the arch of her back.

His lips trailing on her skin.

And with her lips parted, she deliberately poised before the mirror and touched herself.

Fantasies flowed in her head of what her Phantom would be doing right now if he were here.


Tonight.  Tonight, she vowed she will be his wicked temptress—his very own seductive tease.

Her salacious curves are built for his pleasure.

Her skirt flowed to just above her luscious legs.

She donned her fuck-me boots.

She’s ready.  She’s aim to please.

She’s dressed to kill—kill him with pleasure.

His “Liquid Sex”—her Phantom called her.

And in her bed she showed he shall encounter the thunderous seismic range and orgasmic tremors that would threaten to move his world.


The slow tingles.

The increased breathing.

The spreading of legs.

The speeding up.

The frantic movements.

Twisting, pulling, thrusting, reaching, biting.

The screams of ecstasy.

The sighs of pleasure.

And then it all stopped.

And she knew, he will leave again.

This story has no happy ending.


She wanted to fix him like the broken man that he is.

But he won't admit he is broken. He said it's just the way he is.

And she believes that if he just let her, she can and she will.

But he refused just that and bluntly said, “Just have your fill.”

With her mouth open, she took all of him.

Her gaze never left his as he filled her throat with cream.


“Fuck me…”  She urged.  “Fuck me one last time.”

She clawed her nails and scribbled passion on his bareback.

Her weakness, her feelings, her lust—he felt it all.

He smiled a sad smile.  He knew he owned her, but this had to end.

He pulled her onto his lap and hungrily bit her collarbone.

Her hands ran through his hair as he guided himself into her.

“Let’s make this one explosive ride.”

And she rode him like the rouge stallion that he is, one that cannot be tamed.

She took him over the edge.  He let her.

Moans.  Names.  Grunts.  Groans.

And when she came, she came in tears.


His scent—her phantom—lingers so vividly against her skin.

A clear reflection of his deepest kisses.

His fingerprints, his tongue prints are now deeply engraved on her skin.


She was touched by him.  He sent her into the seven seas of ecstasy.

Made her experience life.

But it was over.  Her Phantom left her.

He was gone.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

HIS KEPT WOMAN (The Third Part)

Oh just a side note, I did not write the Submissive’s Mantra.  I got it off the internet.


“No…  Please…”

“No what?”  He moved slowly inside her and withdrew his cock in one swift motion.  She sighed.

“Don’t stop fucking me.”  Her eyes pleaded.  But he won’t give in just yet.

“Tell me, you’re my whore.”


“You heard me.”

“I’m….”  She started softly.

“What?  I can’t hear you.”

“I’m your whore.”  Louder this time and this made him smile.

With a groan, he bit her shoulders and slowly slid into her snug, wet canal.  He didn’t have to tell her twice.  She repeatedly was saying she was his whore while he was fucking her.

She cried out her release.  He reached for a nipple and sucked and bit on it hard as his cock exploded into her.


She woke up and noted the darkness of the room.  Her pussy was sore.  She smiled.  The kind of sore that her pussy just needed.

So she was free—her hands and feet were no longer tied.

She noted the sleeping man beside her.  He looked so angel-like as he slept.  She wanted to badly to kiss his forehead and comb her fingers through his hair but she stopped herself.  No, it is not her place.  She knew her place.

Last night was one of those play nights they have regularly.  Role playing had always been their thing.  Last night, she played the abductee and admittedly she played it well.  She knew how he loved being in control, and he knew how she loved being dominated.

She was a sub, and he is just the perfect dom for her.

He knew what she wanted.  He knew what she craved for.

The cravings of a submissive woman are, in the end, easily explainable.  To stop thinking, to stop worrying about facades and pretenses, to stop wondering what is expected, what is right, and what is wrong.

To simply be chosen.  Through this simple fact, to know that you do have worth in the eyes of whoever picked you, regardless of what they impose on you.  To feel the power of one’s Master/Dom wash over her. To just forget oneself. To just exist in the moment.  To just feel.

She is one real lady.  She is polite and classy.  She dresses well.  She is funny and a great company.  She is cultured.  She speaks well on a variety of subjects.  Anyone who ever meets her cannot help but be impressed by her.  Because she is a real lady.

What people don’t know about her is how hard she grabs his head and pulls his hair when he puts his mouth between her legs.  People would cringe if they saw how she attacks his cock with her eager mouth.  Some women would probably faint if they heard the things coming out of her mouth when he fucks her from behind.  No doubt other people would call her a slut if they saw how she likes to work her clit with all kinds of toys.  Others would be calling for therapy if they got a glimpse of her lapping up cum dripping off his cock.

But why would she care?  All that matters is her Master.

She knew he liked it when she’s being a real lady.  But he loves it even more when that lady turns dirty.  She’s just the perfect balance that he needed, wanted, and owned.

“Who do you belong to?”  He questioned softly into my ear.

Ah so her master is awake.

“You…”  She whispered back.  She began to slide her hands between their bodies, wanting to touch him, but he stopped her.  Grasping both wrists in one of his strong hands, he held them above her head and nuzzled her neck with his unshaven jaw and chin.

“Only to me.  That is right.  And I will have ALL of you.”  He shifted his body still holding her wrists.
“I’m hungry.”  He told her matter-of-factly.

“You are?  Want me to prepare something?”

He ran his other hand down her stomach to cup the warmth between her legs.  “I’m only hungry for one thing.  And I mean to take it… now.”

At first her brow furrowed in confusion even as his fingers slipped smoothly into the warmth that his cock had just possessed hours ago.  And she immediately felt new stirrings at his touch.  His fingers retreated and went inside her again.  Setting a rhythm.  She was slick with her fluids.

He wanted her pussy.  He’s hungry for her pussy.

She parted her legs and let him have his way with her.


A Submissive’s Mantra

I will communicate with complete honesty my needs, desires, limits, and experience.  I realize that failing to do so will not only prevent my Master and I from having the best experience possible, but can also lead to physical and emotional harm.

I will try not to manipulate my Master.  I will not push to make a scene go the way I feel it should.

I will keep an open mind about trying things that I am not comfortable with and expanding my limits.  I will continue to grow as a submissive and as a human being.

I will accept the responsibility of discovering what pleases my Master, and will do my best to fulfill His wishes and desires.

I will not allow myself to be harmed and abused.  I know that submissive does not equal doormat.

I will be responsive to my Master.  I will not try to hide what my mind and body are feeling so that I may assist Him in His responsibilities as my authority.  I know that Dominants are not telepaths, and will not expect my Master to know thoughts or feelings which I do not share.

I will give my gift of submission only to Those that can responsibly accept and desire to receive.  I will not place anyone in the position of controlling me non-consensually nor will I give my respect to someone that has not earned it.

I will be obedient to my Master even if I disagree with what He is requesting.  I realize He has my best interests at heart and often knows better than I what I need in a particular situation.  I know that my actions reflect upon my Master, and will do my best to help others see Him in a positive way.  I will not intentionally embarrass or displease Him.