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ORIGINAL: FelineFae

Dreamy, LOVE the new avatar

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ORIGINAL: LanceHughes

A classic from the annals (HEY! Watch it you perves!) of LanceHughes
 
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You are naked (except for shoes and dark, short stockings) I tie you into one of my specialities - a rope harness.  I have a special way of going down then up your legs and arms in what I call ladders.  As the harness is put on, I go slowly, making sure that every rope is adjusted into the correct place..... Of course, the ladders must be afixed carefully at the tops, otherwise they slide down and that won't work for what I have in mind.... so the body part of the harness needs a belt-effect and we can get that best by a thong arragement around your crotch.  As I pass the ropes between your legs, I put in an extra three knots, making sure they lay on your clit.  Continuing up the back, and passing through some of the side ropes, I remember to stroke you so that the fear of what unknown is to come turns into anticipation of that very same unknown.  Once I'm at the back of your neck, I use the training collar - simple black, thin leather, not tight at all - to anchor the leads for your arm ladders.  Down we go on each side and back up after a shibari turn and reversal at the wrists.

Now to the good part.... "That's just been getting you ready," I whisper in your ear.  More stroking all over your body especially up and down the ladders - especially at the neck.  I put my fingers in the collar and twist, whispering "I control you, even your very breath."  I let go and slap your ass - once on each cheek to bring you back from that edge you just looked over.  Your breath is getting too shallow so I say, "deep breaths - slow and easy - that's better - Good girl."

I take an extra rope and starting at your shoulder, use the ladders on your arms to bind each arm to the harness on your trembling body.  Trembling because you cannot move your arms.  I say, "Try raising your arms.  I want to see whether I've done a good job...." You can't raise either arm, but yet the ropes are loose enough that you're not worried at all about circulation......  You never considered it, since you were trusting me, but you are even more reassured that this is easy to bear....

I tell you to kneel and then close your eyes.  You do so, realizing that we are not "finished."

You feel a long fabric tube coming over your body, and as I arrange it you realize it has a hood, almost covering your head, but definitely covering your eyes.  I tell you to stand.  I look beneath the hood to make sure you haven't opened your eyes.  "Good, you did not open your eyes."  I continue to adjust the garment, making sure I stroke the ropes through the rough cloth, letting you feel the fabric.  I raise the hood slightly, pressing the edge against your forehead..... You know there's a full-length mirror behind you so that when I say, "Turn around," You hope that you will be allowed to see what the garment looks like.  Sure enough, I tell you "open your eyes and look at yourself."  It's a burnoosh - the long heavy robes of the Middle East.  The hood moves over your eyes, and you are told "Look down so that you don't trip."

You can tell by sound that I open the door to the garage.  I take you by your elbow and guide you into the car's front passenger seat.  As you walk, the knot at your clit, rubs, and rubs... at first a little painful, but slowly it feels better and better.  When sitting, it is almost too loose, so you rub your thighs together to continue the odd, but totally pleasurable feeling.

I adjust the hood down, and start driving....... You lose track of the turns and the distances, just playing with your knot between your legs...... Just as you are getting close, I stop the vehicle and come around and help you stand up.  Of course, the knot tightens and threws you off rhythm.  I put my mouth close to the hood and say, "Eyes down and not a word, do you understand?"  As I re-adjust the hood, you nod. I again take you by the elbow and you guess that we are walking through a parking lot. The new rythym of the knot starts to work its magic, but you are torn between letting go and tring to figure out where you are. You listen carefully, and hear foreign voices.  You smell spices and leather as you are lead through what must be a market place...... You've been watching the bottoms of the stands with their colorful coverings as we've been walking and so, the sounds, smells, and pictures all add up, to the feel of your garment.  I stop and turn you toward a very spicy booth with a bright blue cover with gold and red fringe.  Your senses have never been so awake.

"Sahib, I see you have brought your slave that cooks for you as you promised. I am glad to see that you have brought her.  The last time you attended my humble stall we agreed that she should taste the spices before using them.  Is she as good a cook as you claim?"

"Of course. But I take a small insult at your implication that I would have anything but the best cook preparing my food."  "No insult is implied, Shaib, I'm sure she is the best at cooking, but how is she at eating your raw meat?"  We laugh at the lewd joke, and "I reply, she's very good at that, also.  Maybe, just maybe, I will invite you for dinner, have her cook using your spices, and then for dessert.... who knows?"  You breathe a sigh of relief.  You thought maybe I was going to command you to suck him right there in the market.

After I chuckle with my good friend, we get down to business.... "I might be interested in many spices today... it depends on what this worthless slave finds to her liking. I'll have her taste some of that."  I wet my finger in my mouth and plunge it into the mound of spice and bring it to your lips.  I get close and whisper "Suck his fingers good - I want a low price - suck his fingers as well as you would my cock."

You suck my finger as you do when we are by the fire and I am giving you wine on my fingers dipped from my beautiful crystal goblet.

"Good girl."  You are so caught up in the smells of the market, the feel of the robe, the sound of the strange voices, the bright colors as you look down that you hardly realize the taste is cinnamon, the strongest, sweest cinnamon you have ever tasted,  and so much all at once... you swallow around my finger, just as I like it when you swallow around my dick.  I pull out my finger and I ask "Is that worthy of your worthless cooking?"  You nod as if in a dream, for you are.

"I'll take some of that, my friend, for the slave has thought it worthy.  I will leave her with you as I go about some other business. I think about 6 or 8 spices today..... her tongue will be worked over by that time. I will be back to see what you have teased her with."  My friend the spice merchant growls as he sarcastically says, "Thank you for the opportunity to 'serve' you, Sahib." You hear me walking away, leaving you at the mercy of the merchant.  As I do so, I grab the harness through the robes and pull the knots against your clit, as a reminder of who owns you and where you are in my life.

I take the WIN from you and go to trade it at another booth down a little way in the bazzar.

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ORIGINAL: dcnovice

The D.C. Court of Appeals says I win.

That's good enough for me.

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ORIGINAL: FelineFae

Good Morning, Lasties.

In the AFK-world,
i have shoes made of WIN.
One of Master's b-days presents to me was a pair of solid black knee high all-star converse boots.
Like all us XX-ers, shoes make me crazy. my kind of crazy is just a little different. i HATE getting new shoes.
i wear a sz 7 to 7 1/2 American, so its easy to find shoes that fit, but i never see any i like the look of other than stand by plain Mary-Janes or combat boots.
These are lighter and go higher up the leg than combat-boots, they are made of WIN.

Okays, so i removed the brand-label from the boots, but that was just a minor adjustments.