Archive | January 2013

Bananas

Jan28

Ce’rilla and Viddie, approx. 105 words

“You know the neatest thing about magic?”

Ce’Rilla was laying on her back in the grotto, peering at Viddie through her hair. She liked the grotto best of anywhere in the school, for Reasons. Reasons, in this case, involving the generally predatory nature of the rest of the school, and the way Viddie lit up when he was here with all the plants. Among others.

“Mmm?” He was lost in thought. She wondered about what and decided to show off anyway. “Meentik huamu banana delta.” She passed him one of the two ripe bananas that appeared in her hands. “Remember these?”

It had been a while. Since before the Collapse. But bananas had always been her favorite.

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The ClockWork Collar, or The Princess of Al-ben, a kink-bingo mini-story in 25 parts. Poll 10

Jan28

Previous: Pinned (LJ)

And Now
“I like you like this,” she admitted. “Shall I start at the ends-” she tickled his foot – “or with the core?” She circled his throat with her hands.

His response was incoherent.

“What was that? Well, I suppose we’ll start at the ends.”

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The ClockWork Collar, or The Princess of Al-ben, a kink-bingo mini-story in 25 parts. Part 14

Jan28

First: The Collar (LJ)

Previous:Freedom (LJ)

Warning: non-consensual penetration

“Now.”

“Now?” There was little play in the ropes and no way at all for him to get away.

“In this bag…” She’d found his toys. The one looked mechanical, but it would serve its purpose as a gag. Long, slender… “There’s a certain symmetry in doing this to you. Open up.”

“Princess…” That was all it took. She slid the long gag into his mouth and down his throat, watching. There. He could still breathe, barely. “And you have two of these, don’t you?”

His muffled protests were musical as she headed to his other end with the second.

Next: And Now

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The ClockWork Collar, or The Princess of Al-ben, a kink-bingo mini-story in 25 parts. Part 13

Jan28

First: The Collar (LJ)

Previous:A Couple? (LJ)

“Wonderful.” Perfect. She went for the packs in the corner of the room. “There was… yes.” She pulled out length after length of rope.

“What are you planning, Princess?” He was already taking his clothes off. He had his moments, didn’t he?

“Lay down on the bed.” The four-poster would be perfect for this. She began tying knots before he could change his mind.

His packs had even provided pulleys. A good thing; he was heavier than her. She rigged the bed up quickly, while he tugged against her ropes. And then she lifted him up.

“What…oh.” He swung peacefully.

next: Pinned (LJ)

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Sweet as Sugar, Black as Sin

Jan27

To @realbrigang’s second prompt of the same name.

Warning: Implied/discussed abuse.

“He seemed like such a nice guy.”

The seven women around the table all nodded. They all had similar stories

“He seemed so sweet.”

“He was so considerate.”

“He held the doors for me. He paid for the whole date.”

“He was sweet as sugar. A real nice guy.”

“He was such a gentleman. I didn’t know they made guys like that anymore.”

“They don’t.” The seventh woman had hair as black as night and lips as red as blood. “The haven’t made men like him in a very long time, and we are all the better for it.”

The first looked at her. She had hair like spun gold and wore no make-up at all. “Are you saying…”

“She can’t be.” The third leaned forward. “My grandmother told me those stories. They’re impossible. He’s impossible.“

“Of course he is.” The seventh smiled unkindly. “You’ve all told me that already. ‘He seemed so sweet. He seemed so nice.’ That’s how he was made. And what happens next, ladies? Tell me the end of the fairy tale.”

It was a command as iron and implacable as if she’d been holding a gun to their heads. The first licked her pink lips. “It was the seventh date. I’d… We’d…” She gestured, her cheeks as pink as her lips. “A couple times before. But this time, he was different. He said things.”

The second held her hands in front of her, her nails digging into her palms. “It was as if all the sugar was gone, and all that was left was the leaves at the bottom of the teapot. Bitter and dark.”

“He broke my hand.” The third laid the improperly-healed hand on the table.

“He broke my heart.”

“He stole everything I had.”

“He told me I should thank him. He told me that he was doing me a favor.”

“What about you.” The first spoke again. “What about you? You don’t have your own story. You don’t sound surprised.”

“I stopped being surprised by him forty-nine sad stories ago.” She shook her head. “And that one was mine. I made him. I made him to be my groom.”

As the women stared at her, fists clenched, remembering stories their grandmothers had whispered of, the seventh continued.

“And then I lost him. But with your help, ladies, I will stop him.”

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The ClockWork Collar, or The Princess of Al-ben, a kink-bingo mini-story in 25 parts. Poll 9

Jan26

Previous:
In Public. And at Home. (LJ)

“A couple.” She had him. “I would enjoy that. But a couple, darling…” Reel him in. “Has give and take.” Will you give to me?”

“Will you let me take your freedom, for a while?”

He swallowed, and reached over the table to touch her collar. “For a little while.”</blockquote

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The ClockWork Collar, or The Princess of Al-ben, a kink-bingo mini-story in 25 parts. Part 11 and 12

Jan26

First: The Collar (LJ)

Previous:…the whore (

He stripped her down to collar and the cuffs, chained her hands behind her back, and leashed her again. “They know you can be bought. What do you think they think of you now?”

She stared at him, tired and confused. “Sir?”

He dragged her out of the room, down to the center atrium. “Let them look at you, Princess. Let them see you for what you really are.”

“Sir?” They were, of course, looking, staring. She could feel their gazes on her. She could feel his breath in her ear.

“You are mine. That is all you are, Princess.”

She had run out of patience. “You bought me, Master. You claimed me. There is nothing to me but you and this collar. I’m yours.”
He stared at her, much as everyone else was staring. “Well. Why didn’t you say so? I did now know that you… I didn’t know.”

He took her in to his room again. He clothed her in simple clothes, a pretty dress, a stylish vest. “We will have dinner tonight in our room.”

“Yes, Master.” Stavanna was more confused, more lost, than she had been since the auction house.
“Call me Ander. It was nice of the King to host us, don’t you think?” He lit the lamp on the table, and poured two glasses of wine.

“Very kind.” She sipped cautiously, and, just as carefully, tasted his name. “Ander.”
His smile was something to behold. “I think we’ll make a wonderful couple, don’t you?”

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Packing

Jan26

For @dahob’s commissioned request.

This is erotica with very little veneer of plot.

“I’m going to have to ship you.”

The man was frowning at Alisa. Alisa had learned, quickly, not to like it when the man frowned at her. It was never good, and sometimes it was rapidly very, very bad.

“I’m sorry?” she tried, but the gag in her mouth made it “Ah ahrree.”

“You certainly will be. Did you have to bite her?”

Did she have to bite her? She thought about that one, and then decided that the man was already angry at her, and nodded. Yes, she had needed to bite that obnoxious little shit. Yes, she had needed to hear her squeal. She thought she was so much better than the rest of them – and why? Because her collar weighed less? Because her chains were thinner?

“I know she’s a prat.” The man might as well have been talking to himself. He wasn’t looking at Alisa anymore, at least. He was looking at his shelf of packing material. She swallowed, and looked away. Shit. He really meant to do it. “I know she’s a miserable little bitch. But look at her, Number Seven. She’s perfect. She’s beautiful.”

What was she, then? Because he liked hearing her talk, mangled and miserable, through the gag, she tried again. “Uh Uh-ow ee?”

“What about you, indeed? You seem to dive into this lifestyle like you were born to it. You’re a gorgeous sub. You’re responsive. Even when you try to run away, you do it with style. And I’m sure your new owner will enjoy you. You’ll be able to be the jewel of his collection, which should suit you better than being one of the chorus line.” He was walking back over to her, his bootsteps echoing on the concrete. She wasn’t going to look. She wasn’t going to look. “But you are not nearly as perfect as she is, I’m afraid. Your height, for one.” He squeezed her breast until she whimpered. “These giant things. That’s not what men here are looking for.”

“Uh ee ih?”

“Yes. He’s a bit of a pervert, you see.”

“Oh, uu.”

“You’re going to have to learn to watch your mouth. The gag is coming off. Don’t try to speak.”

She closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to look. She wasn’t going to look. The gag came out, leaving her working her jaw and swallowing drool. She hated that. She hated many things about the gag, actually, but that was the worst.

“Breathing tube. Tilt your head back, and relax.” He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, until her head was tilted as far back as it would go. “Mouth open.”

There was no point in disobeying, and no point in trying to plead. She opened her mouth while he worked something hard and unyielding down her throat.

“That’s a girl. Posture collar, to hold you where you need to go.” The thing was more than just a collar; he’d put her in it before. He buckled it around her neck, forcing her head to stay in that position, around her breasts, around her waist. She couldn’t move her spine at all when he was done buckling.

“That’s my good girl. Hood.” She didn’t have her eyes open anyway, but the hood always freaked her out. She made a worried noise in the back of her throat, around the tube that was keeping her airway open.

“You’re doing very good. Your new owner will be very happy.” The hood zipped up, leaving her in the dark. “All right. I’m strapping your arms to the bracing, and then into the box you go.”

She made low keening noises, unable to stop herself. Not the box. Not the box. But he was pinning her arms to her sides, wrapping more strapping around her, and then there was the bubble wrap.

By the time he was done wrapping her, she couldn’t have moved even without the restraints, and she couldn’t hear a thing. He patted the sole of her foot, and then there was nothing at all.

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