Let Us Pray

‘What are you doing?’ He asks her.

They’re in her bedroom, away from the world. Him, 26 and her, 17.

She’s closed the door behind her, unbuttoning her plain white work blouse button by button.

He can already glimpse the lace detail of the black bra beneath her.

‘Dear God…’ She says, unbuttoning another button.

‘Thank you for bringing Henry to me in my time of need.’

Another button comes undone. Two to go.

His eyes want to sink down and take in how her small breasts are kept hidden behind the cups of her bra, but there’s something in her eyes – something dangerous. Manic.

‘Thank you…for this moment together, O Lord”

One button to go.

‘And in all the moments that have come before.’

The last button is gone. Her eyes, greyish blue, are locked on to his as she peels away the blouse, revealing a lightly tanned stomach, freckles sprawling sporadically across the skin. The blouse floats down to the floor.

Her hands are reaching down to her jeans, unzipping the fly.

‘Alex…’

‘Please instil with me the p…the power, God..’

‘Power’ comes on loose lips, wiggling out of her shaky voice. Her voice is airy, dreamy. Possessed.

‘The power to be good. To do good. To be better.’

Alex is wriggling out of her jeans. They fall to her knees, revealing pale legs and skimpy black lace panties.

She kicks the jeans off to the floor.

‘And please watch over me, over us, and fill our hearts with love and magic. And passion.’

She unclasps her bra, letting it fall to the floor, revealing her bare breasts, her dark areola. Goosebumps trailing across her skin. The slightest hint of veins running beneath, pumping blood through her body, silky warm.

‘I’m thankful for what you’ve shown me, God, and who…you’ve ‘ – the words catch on her throat, her chest tightens as she breathes, excited and nervous. ‘Brought to me.’

She hooks her fingers around the waistband of her panties and slides them down, revealing the thin line of hair marking her slit.

‘Amen.’

Her eyes never break contact.

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For some reason it came to me – the idea of a religious teenager praying to god while undressing for the person she lusts after. I found the psychological interplay – her eyes on him, in command, betraying the idea of religion or subverting it in a wholly different environment – to be very sexy. Hopefully you enjoy it too!

Portrait

 

 

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This one’s just a short one, born out of the notion of looking at people and thinking of what kind of life they lead. I went for intimate and short but sweet. Let me know how I went.

 

Picture this, if you will.
A blonde woman arrives home dressed in her work uniform, a dull grey top with black suit pants.
With a sigh, she throws down her purse, a simple pink thing, and collapses on the bed.
She is 24 and lives with her mother. She is single. She works Monday-Friday, nine to five, at a shoe shop. And this afternoon, she is exhausted.
Her room features walls decorated by a collection of album covers from her favourite artist – Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Cream – it was her dad that led her to fall in love with the rock and roll of the sixties and seventies.
The woman runs a hand through her long blonde hair and registers that it needs a cut. She sighs. Something else to keep track of across the week.
With that, she reaches down and slips out of her black pants.
Her legs, slender and pale, stretch across the floor, sliding against the fabric of the carpet.
She glances down at her underwear – plain bright green boylegs – and hooks her fingers around the elastic and pulls them off.
It falls to the floor twisted and crumpled.
From there, she unbuttons her top. That falls to the floor as well.
She’s wearing a black bra. It’s nothing fancy but it’s the kind of thing that becomes fancy in its plainness. Pretty soon that falls off as well, tumbling onto her blouse on the floor.
The blonde woman stretches back completely naked and feels the ceiling fan skim air down to her small breasts.
A lifetime ago, she would have hated her breasts – absolutely hated them.
Now, she thinks they’re the best thing about her.
She couldn’t describe why, perhaps it was just age that led her to see the appeal within herself.
With that, she fell into a peaceful nap.

“Huh?”

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“Huh?”. It’s a simple word, really.

And yet, I find it distasteful.

Now, this is just me. But under my leadership, any submissive, when engaging in discussion with me, should be speaking politely. If I say something that, for whatever reason, they mishear, “Huh?” is not the response that you say.

“Beg yours?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry, what was that?”

So forth and so on.

My kitten has been struggling with remembering to exclude the idea of using “Huh?” as a response if she mishears me. In the past, I have, perhaps been a bit too kind, and let her off with a warning. Tonight, I did not. I told her that when she is finished her dinner, she can undress and bend over my knee.

I take no pleasure from smacking her, nor does she take pleasure from being smacked. At least…when it is a punishment.

The dislike of “Huh?” as a response, if I had to guess, comes from my upbringing. My father disliked it as well, as well as “What?”.
It’s actually interesting how much my upbringing kind of plays into who I am as a Dominant.

In any case, this has been my Wednesday evening. How has yours been?

The time is now 

  

I am the entity that lives in your closet. I’ve been watching you for some time. Waiting until the right moment. Until you were at your weakest.

Why, weakest? So I could have you rise above and soar – like the wild wolf I’ve seen inside you. The one that likes to talk dirty to herself as she masturbates alone.
You’ve heard me once or twice. Fumbling about getting comfortable as you slip out of your teal cheetah print panties. I’ve inspired thoughts from your childhood. Something about shadows visiting you in the night. No matter.  
Come to me, child. Come to the wardrobe where I lay in wait. Slip that skimpy nighty off and let me see that skin of yours. The one those false Angels have clawed at on nights. But you and I both know that they were weak and undeserving. You know you have been waiting for the monster to take you to a nightmare. So: undress. I’m waiting. Can you hear my breathing? Listen closely. 
Undress. We have the time. 

What, you thought I was kidding child? Start to undress this instant. I don’t like to be kept waiting. Tonight is the night I can invade.

Are you staying still? Undress yourself for me now, you will do as I say. Don’t make me tell you again. I’m watching you, child, I know when you will be completely naked. 

There we go. All the way. There we go, there’s that trimmed cunt. Just the way I like it. 
Kneel for me, child. Swear your allegiance to me. I am the monster you begged for as your juices spurted across the sheets of an evening. Where is that animal now?
I have waited long enough. It is time now. It is MY time. All those men that have come before – they will not compel you like I will. They will not claw you like I can. I will make you float, dear girl. 
With upmost force I will possess your body with a pleasure beyond your world. Beyond your knowledge.
Understand you will not simply moan, you will scream so hard you will not recognise yourself. Understand you will come so hard you will gasp to push out that scream. 
Watch your sweet pale body rise above the floor as I open these doors. Watch as all reason leaves your mind, as it drives you mad. Watch as your breasts sting from my strikes, as the delicious bruises you have prayed for while laying in bed – the prayers that invited me in – appear on your breasts. Is the sting dizzying?

Watch as your juices smack against the carpet below. Once, twice. Three times. Your sweet cunt is flooded, child.
One last thing: do not be afraid of me. I mean you no harm. I will release you as an ascended being. Broken and bruised – but alive. Ascended. Your mind — opened. 
This moment has been a long time coming.