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You can imagine the look I gave this child, this supposedly unformed human. It was a question I would find myself going back to again and again. Why indeed. Each time I tried to answer the question to myself, all I could see was that wall—the wall of what you are supposed to be, of what you are supposed to think and want. But it did clear one thing up for me—the content of this column. In the stories that will follow, I will endeavor to bring to light images from off the wall. Each story will focus on a separate thrill, a notable kink, and a definite left turn from the norm—or at least what we like to think is the norm. These are not to be stories of strange characters in fantastic settings—these will be normal people, people I have known, people I have spoken with, sharing with us all where the normal touches the abnormal, where unusual desire sits inside their loins. People like you and me, people who live next door, who work with you, who sit by you on your bus ride home. In essence, these are real admissions, confessions, and actions. True-life come to tantalize while it teaches. It is my hope that by presenting to you, the reader, these portraits, you shall find among them a piece of yourself set upon the page. Real people, and their real thrills, with sometimes not the fairy tale endings you might hope for. True sexuality, true emotion, true events, as shared with me, and now dear reader, as I share with you. By Succubus Going way back, deep and dark.... Blackness is all around, trapping the moment in a void... I stand, arms raised above me, stretched taut and tied tight. The ropes hold me to my feet; arms spread wide, legs bound apart from one another. I am open, exposed. No way to protect myself, hide, or escape. A piece of clothe blocks out my vision. I don't know what or who surrounds me. I can hear my own breaths, loud and ragged. My heart thumps. I lick my lips, stopping the tremble and twist again, pulling at my bonds. This is as much to try and escape as it is to feel the thrill of knowing I cannot. I turn my head to one side, straining to hear anything that might exist beyond the blackness. I can feel him. I know he is there, watching. I am completely exposed before him: no past, no secrets. He knows my needs, can see my desires, and knows too my every fear. All of him is appetite, waiting to feast upon me, body and soul. I imagine him watching me, hoping for his touch, dreading it too, and feel the heat of his eyes across my skin. I twist and moan softly, untouched and needy. A hand, cold at first but quickly warmed, encased in a leather glove, reaches out to me. A gentle touch, upon my thigh, he lingers for a moment. One gloved finger touches my lip, gently prods to open my mouth, and then moves away. His hand moves slowly up my thigh, caressing me. I arch my body, trying to open more of myself for his greedy touch, his hungry sight. Abruptly he draws back. I hear the smallest of sounds a moment before the stinging slap hits my breast. I gasp and try to twist, to move, to escape. He chuckles, a small laugh that echoes in my blackness and sends a trickle of fear up my spine. Another slap, and another, and he rains down pain upon me. I take each slap as it comes, swallowing the sharpness. Heat fills my breasts as pleasure licks at them. Whining moans and gasps are my response. Just as suddenly as they began, the blows stop, leaving me suspended in anticipation--breasts burning, frustration, fear and lust fighting for my mind. His lips touch mine, softly. I turn away, denying the intimacy. Rough leather fingers pull my mouth back to his. He slides a finger inside my mouth, opening it. No longer soft, he presses his lips to mine, pushing his tongue in deeply, seeking to make all of my mouth his. I part my lips, offering myself in the kiss. His body presses to mine, his clothes rough against my nudity. I weaken, trying to press myself against him. He steps quickly back, leaving me gasping. I can feel him moving, but can't tell where. I turn my head from side to side, trying to find him. His hand, the glove now warm, wraps softly around my throat. He tilts my head back, and he is there, behind me. His breath is hot against my ear. He holds me still with his hand on my neck, making me feel my vulnerability. I wonder how small and fragile I must feel to him. I wonder if he can feel the blood rushing through me, my pulse pounding. He wraps his other hand around me, petting at my breasts, soothing them, cooling them. It lowers, the leather horribly intimate, yet terribly anonymous as it trails across my belly. He moves slowly, his intent clear to me as his hand slides toward my waiting cunt. His hand grasps my throat tighter as the other comes now from behind and grabs at the wet folds of my cunt, roughly pinching at me. With deliberate slowness, he slides a finger inside of me, each inch of it so clearly felt. I shudder and moan, pushing myself toward him, arching my back painfully in hopes of more. The leather feels alien, intrusive. My pleasure from it feels forbidden. He slides his finger in and out of me, my wetness coating the glove. I gasp louder as he adds a second finger, jamming it into me roughly, forcing me to take it. Faster and faster, he plunges his fingers into me, his hand slapping against my ass, stinging, as the pleasure drives me toward an edge--an edge he will deny. He pulls his fingers from me and lets me go. I whimper, muttering "please," as my hips twist and rock, wanting more. I suck in a quick breath, feeling one leather fingertip prodding at my ass, pressing against it, seeking entrance. I shake my head, trying to deny him this. I pull at my bonds, frantic. His hand twists itself in my hair and he pulls my head back painfully. I yelp, and he whispers into my ear, "You are mine." Slowly he forces his finger into me, opening me for his pleasure. Tears spring to my eyes, only to be absorbed by the blindfold. He lets loose my hair, moving his hand down my front, sliding his finger back inside my cunt. The twin sensation fills me. Slowly he fucks me with his hands, rocking me on his fingers driving me to greater pleasure. I feel heat all over, my cheeks flaming, my breath now coming in shallow gasps between moans. On and on, thrusting deeply into me, showing me all of my body is his, my responses his to control. I cry out loudly as orgasm hits; a long low moan comes from me. My hips rock feverishly, my body pulsing with the waves of pleasure. He leaves his fingers inside of me until I stop shaking, and then slowly withdraws them. With the softest of kisses on my lips, he whispers, "perfect" in my ear, then walks away. By Succubus In the Darkness, holding tight, She sits alone, Behind steel doors Past windowless Walls Playing at Madness A thousand miles removed From Smiles and Sunlight, From Comfort and Touch. Shadows come from Her mouth To dance upon the Walls, To surround Her. They fly from Her lips To wrap tightly about Her. Breathing, She draws them in, Expelling more with every breath, Choking more with every breath. Darker grow the Shadows As Darker grows Her Soul. Tighter do the Shadows hold Her. She is bound to them in Fear, Comforted in their Desolation, Assuaged by the Promise of Destruction. Poison taints the Air Miasma taints the Woman, And All is trapped inside the Walls, All is trapped inside Her Heart. Pain reflects Itself and magnifies; It Breeds, Filling the windowless room, Darkening Her sight Swallowing Her breaths. Desperation grows apace with Desolation. Inconsolable, She cries, Feeling Her Death within, Wishing for It without, Too frightened to do more Than struggle for another breath. She feels Herself as she Disappears, Feels the Meaning slip from Her grasp, Watches, Powerless, as She fades away, Becoming the Shadows of Her own Sorrow. She welcomes Her Loss, Looks with Hope to the Emptiness, Thinking that in the End The Pain will stop And finally, blessedly, Nothing will Matter. Gasping in the drawing Shadows, Sobbing in Her Soul for Peace, She pulls tighter, closer, smaller, Willing Herself to be Gone. Instead She is amazed to Find Another Tear running down Her cheek, Another Hope running through Her mind. Touching the wetness, She curses, Knowing true the Horror of Humanity: That Suffering has no limit, And not the Mercy to Destroy Her. The Maiden By Succubus The clouds blew in with force that night, The trees were torn and bent; Thunder shook the world so hard, 'Twas from the Devil sent. The heavens threw down fire, Cutting through the night; Nuit's tears fell hard and fast; The creatures ran in fright. Yet in a clearing, A lone girl stood, A faerie to be sure: No eyes beheld such beauty before; Her face serene and pure. She smiled softly to the sky, Her eyes were full of love; She raised her arms in warm embrace, To hold the dark above. The rain drove down upon her face, The wind ripped at her hair; A shadow flew down from the night, And stole that maiden fair. |