Archive | January 2013

But Everyone Else is Doing it… (weight loss and joining a gym)

Jan26

Hello and happy Saturday!

I confess, “everyone else is doing it” is a very strong motivator for me to not do something: dye my hair red, even when I wanted to. Wear something fashionable. Start weight loss programs in January.

On the other hand, I really want to lose weight and get in better shape. So I’ve started – technically in December – back onto Weight Watchers.

(Because I’m like that, I’m still using the old “fiber and fat” Points program, because I know it, it works, and I have all the stuff. (Fiber makes stuff cost less “points;” fat makes it cost more.))

And I joined a gym! This was tricky for me, because I kept getting nervous and finding reasons to stall and not go. It’s a tiny gym, but it’s less than 10 minutes away, it’s all-hours access, and it has the machines I want, most specifically an elliptical and a recumbent bike (I’ll worry about weights later).

I love it. I love getting all sweaty and out of breath. I love the feeling that I’m actually burning calories. I love the feeling in my muscles the next day that means I’m doing something right. I love it.

Now to figure out the weight machines so I can start toning, too…

So, what are you doing nicely for yourself this year?

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

Jan24

First: The Collar (LJ)
Previous: The Princess and the… (LJ)

Content warning: humiliation and dubcon.

“If that is how you will have it, Princess. I didn’t think you enjoyed the attention.”

“I do not, master.”

“So that is how it is. Stay.”

She stayed, on the bed, dress around her hips.

“Are you the Slave Princess of Al-ban?” The small, weaselly man dropped three coins on the table.

“I am.” She smiled at him, and sat up. He pushed her back to the bed.

“Roll over. I’ve always wanted to bugger a princess.”

“I…”

His hands were brutal, his thrusts short and violent. When he departed, he left one more gold coin on the table.

“Are you ready to shine my boots?”

“No, Master.” She was tired, sore, and bleeding. But not ready for his boots.

“Then we’ll move on.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/460090.html. You can comment here or there.

Changing Verses

Jan23

This is to several of [profile] lilfuff‘s Prompts

I do not know the title(s) of the book(s) the narrator references, but I recall reading at least one, possibly two, about characters stepping into a D&D-like world.

The borders moved at night, usually on the nights when both the moons were dark.

It wasn’t like those books I’d read as a kid, the ones about living in a roleplaying game. There weren’t dark lines on the ground. The world hadn’t reshaped itself into hexes. And, whatever the rules were – and only a select few were actually told – we didn’t, quite, have to limit our movement to gridlines.

That much was different.

Considering what we had, though, I think I would have taken the solid black lines.

You’d wake up in the morning, and you’d have finally gotten used to the ‘verse you were living in. You understood the rules. Maybe you’d found someone who had been a fan, or who had all the books. They knew what was going on, and they could share. Or, if you were particularly lucky (or particularly unlucky), you’d ended up in a ‘verse you yourself knew by heart.

(Don’t think that could be unlucky? Think how popular Vampires have been recently. And Zombies. Those ‘verses aren’t any fun at all).

So you knew what was going on, again, enough to function. And then you’d wake up to find that the border had shifted, and your house – or your place of work, or the corner grocery store, or all of it – was suddenly in another ‘verse.

Sometimes the borders were easy to cross and you could manage commuting between ‘verses to get to work (if your job still existed). Sometimes, however, they were damn near impossible, and you’d find yourself on an epic quest for The Right Key just so you could get a gallon of milk.

Crossovers weren’t nearly as much fun as they’d seemed in the fics.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/459996.html. You can comment here or there.

The ClockWork Collar, or The Princess of Al-ben, a kink-bingo mini-story in 25 parts. Poll 8

Jan23

Previous: Humiliated (LJ)

“That’s it, Princess,” he groaned. “Don’t you think this would be delicious? The swapping of roles, you as my little maid, me as your king? Or, perhaps, I should degrade you even further, and sell you out on a corner to the highest bidder. Which would you prefer, my Princess?”

The decision was surprisingly clear. “Sell me out, then, my King.” She could do that more easily than shine his boots, slave or no.

Next: …the Whore (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/459540.html. You can comment here or there.

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

Jan23

No poll this time; there was only one way to go on the map!
First: The Collar (LJ)
Previous: Royally (LJ)

Content warning: humiliation and implied dubcon.

“Beg for it then, pretty thing. Plead for it.”

She squirmed under him, her cheeks burning. “If you wish me to be a Princess…” Her protest was weak; her body was still burning with need.

“I wish you to be my Princess. Beg. Squeeze your breasts in that corset and beg.”

“Please, my king.” The word caught in her throat. “Please, my lord. F…fuck me. Have me as you will.”

“More. Roll over.”

“My lord?”

“I will fuck you like the animal you are while you plead for it, Princess.”

She rolled onto her stomach, ass in the air. “Please?”

Next: The Princess and the… (LJ

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The ClockWork Collar, or The Princess of Al-ben, a kink-bingo mini-story in 25 parts. Part 8

Jan23

First: The Collar (LJ)
Previous: Please (LJ)

Royally

“You want to be my Princess?” His voice was thick as he dragged her to her feet. “Dress. And you can be my proper Princess.”

Her fingers were thick on the buttons and laces, but he helped her, tender as he cased her in silk and lace. “Tell me, Princess.” His hand lingered on the collar. “Will you serve me in your bower?”

“In my…” He’d steered her towards the bed, which had a look about it of a royal chamber, deep here in the castle. “Yes, my Lord. How would you like me?”

He laid her on the thick feather bed, her skirts piled around her waist. “Royally, of course.” He pulled the curtains. “I’ll have my Princess like a king.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

Next:Humiliated (LJ)

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Eralon Explains

Jan22

To [personal profile] flofx‘s Commissioned Continuation of The Second Restriction

It had taken a week for the temple to settle down.

In that time, the Lesser High Priest of the Evening had been induced to return the Oracle and the Duty Scribe to their rightful places in the temple, and every priest in the nation, or so it seemed, had gone over their interpretation of the Oracle’s words.

In that time, no Oracle had taken the holy seat, and none had attempted any of the other six methods of contacting the gods. The priests were, although they would never admit it, playing it safe.

Finally, however, tradition and the weight of a holy bureaucracy insisted that they put the girl back on the chair, and call forth Eralon’s voice again.

She rolled her eyes back in her head, and her voice became thick and deep. “You think to question me?”

“Err, blessed light upon the morning, blessed waters we shall not sully, of course we do not question you.” The Higher High Priest of Evening was not going to be outdone by a mere Lesser High Priest; he stepped to the front of the dais to speak, perhaps not entirely mindful enough of the thin line of red tiles, or having forgotten their purpose. “We simply seek clarification as to the Oracle’s words.”

“Are not the Oracle’s words mine? Are her throat and her lips not the vessels you have chosen through which to hear me?”

“Well, yes, oh highest light on the sky…” The Higher High Priest stepped forward again, heedless of others around him stepping back. “But it’s just… it is, to us, strange, to hear you contradict that which you have said before. And are not the restrictions holy and to be kept, regardless of all else?”

“The restrictions and the requirements I gave you are holy and of the highest importance.”

“But, oh brightly shining…” The Higher High Priest got no further. The Lesser High Priest found it promising that he did not burst into flames, but simply sigh and fall to the ground. Three burly acolytes pulled him away from the dais, and, with considerably more caution, the Lesser High Priest of the Evening stepped forward, mindful to keep his toes behind the red line of tile.

“Oh brightly shining beacon in the sky, we thank you for correcting our ignorance. Know that the second restriction shall be stricken from the books, and that none shall be required to build bridges where the path should be passable by foot.”

“Good.” The voice of the god in the oracle sounded sullen. “It’s a silly restriction. There are far better things to spend your money on, your time, and your energy.”

“We thank you, oh sun of the morning. Ah… what about the third requirement?”

The Oracle’s head swiveled until the god’s glance was firmly upon the Lesser High Priest. “That one stays. Know you not why you are required to do so?”

“Ah…” He didn’t dare look down, but he did shuffle backwards as subtly as he could. “No, exalted lord.”

“Well then.” The Oracle crossed her legs and leaned forward. “Get this vessel some water, and get your scribe some more ink. Today, Eralon will educate you.”

The Lesser High Priest of Evening scrambled to do as his god had bade him. He had a feeling this was going to be an interesting evening.

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