Morgaine

Posts Tagged ‘bdsm’

Know your vines !

In Too lazy to assign a category on July 11, 2008 at 11:11 pm

The Powerful Magnet Of Your Charms

In Too lazy to assign a category on August 6, 2007 at 10:27 am

The Powerful Magnet Of Your Charms

dzgnboy uploaded this image to flickr, click the image and follow the link to the original page

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Eyecandy : Karen and Emil (nsfw)

In Too lazy to assign a category on March 19, 2007 at 12:51 pm
clipped from www.nearbycafe.com

4-299-10

KE01

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This Thing We Call Sex

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Links for March 10th, 2007

In Too lazy to assign a category on March 10, 2007 at 6:17 pm

Images – part 4

In Too lazy to assign a category on January 5, 2007 at 10:27 pm

She gave him a sharp look and told him she expected him to stay the night. She asked him whether that was a problem. Even though he felt discouraged because of the change in the tone of her voice, he wouldn't want anything else but to stay. He wouldn't be missed, he was living alone in a student flat. He told her it wasn't a problem at all, he just hadn't expected she would want him to spend the night. 'After our conversation, couldn't you have known?', she said in a soft voice.

After some more talking, she wanted to go to bed. She took him to the bedroom and handed him a silk pair of pyjamas, clearly one of her own. She told him to put them on. She withdrew into the bathroom, and when she reappeared after about 15 minutes, she was wearing a long, transparant night gown. He was seated, dressed in pyjamas, on the edge of the enormeous bed and looked at her in admiration.

She pointed at the soft rug on the floor next to the bed. 'You will sleep over there', she told him. She disappeared under a soft down. She told him there were duvets in the closet, and he would have to help himself. He was still on the edge of the bed. Softly she pressed a kiss on his forehead, and turned away.

Although most people would think he had managed to get himself in a most unusual and unpleasant situation, and he should run as hell, he felt really at ease. It wasn't problematic he had to sleep on the rug next to the bed, it made perfect sense to him.

Suddenly he fell back in reality. He became aware of a door being slammed. He didn't hear the voices anymore. He didn't feel hands on his body. His Mistress and her friend apparently had left him.

— To be continued —

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Images – part 3

In Too lazy to assign a category on December 28, 2006 at 12:46 am

She took over the bags, and threw them in a corner. She ordered him to sit down and told him she wanted to take a shower first. Although she pointed out the huge fridge and told him he could take anything he'd like, he was too afraid to move. Like a statue, he remained seated.

After about 30 minutes, she returned, now wearing a fairy-like robe, walking barefooted. She asked him whether he wanted to take a shower, as he was all sweaty from running earlier on. She took him to the bathroom. He didn't know where to look first. She must have seen the longing in his eyes, as she let water fill the tub. In the meantime she undressed him, the way one would undress a child. He let her, too staggered to protest. She turned him around, looking at every detail of his body.

When the bathtub was filled, and the vapour of the oil she had put in the tub, started to fill the room, she helped him step down the stairs, into the water. For a moment she stroke his hair, then left him to himself. He felt tardy and at ease. The thought he found himself in a rather strange situation, didn't scare him. He actually never felt better in his entire life. He didn't know how much time had passed, but the woman appeared in the bathroom again. She told him he had been in the water long enough, and held up a bath towel. 'Come on out, and I'll dry you', she said. He stepped out of the water and walked towards her, aware of her eyes exploring his body. Shyly he looked down. She carefully dried off his body, thus discovering each and every inch of his skin.

She then gave him a bathrobe, and told him to follow her to the dining room. On the table was a copious meal. She must have called a caterer or something, as she couldn't have prepared all that in such a short time.

She sat down at the opposite end of the table and told him to eat. She didn't have to say it twice. He realised he was very hungry. The huge amount of food he ate, seemed to amuse her. She didn't eat much herself. Just some fruitsalad. When he looked satisfied, she took him to a couch.

He didn't know how much time had passed. She had started to talk to him. At first he was too shy to answer, but she made him feel comfortable and from that moment on, it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. They talked for hours. She noticed he became restless and asked him what was wrong. He told her it probably was very late, and he should perhaps go home.

— To be continued —

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Images – part 2

In Too lazy to assign a category on December 19, 2006 at 9:49 pm

He heard a noise behind him. He wondered what it was. He couldn't turn his head. It seemed there were muffled voices. He tried to recognise the voices but he didn't even know how many different voices were present. He even started to doubt whether the voices were coming from behind him. Perhaps he only heard them in his head. He doubted everything.

Then the voices came nearer. He recognised the sultry voice of his Mistress. His heart jumped up. She would be able to read in his eyes he was suffering and comfort him. She would untie him lovingly and hold him in her arms. He would be saved from the images in his mind.

The words she spoke weren't quite the words he expected. She stood behind him and talked to what seemed to be another Domme. They were talking about him. She talked about him as if he wasn't present. He felt hands sliding over his body. Unfamiliar hands. He felt them everywhere, now touching his constricted testicles. He felt really uncomfortable. He never experienced anything like this.

His Mistress had talked about wanting to lend him to a friend of hers. He remembered he felt proud. Proud she trusted him that much. Proud she thought he was able to serve someone else, someone who hadn't trained him personally. Now his pride had turned into insecurity. He felt very small. A small bashful boy, as ignorant as the very first day he had met his Mistress.

Ahhh, that first time. His thoughts strayed off to that evening. The images that were disturbing him, disappeared into the background. While he still sensed those unfamiliar hands, the voices were sottovoce. He relived that sunny afternoon. He was in the park. He just had been running for 10 miles, and had finished his cooling down exercises. He was looking for a bench to sit on but everywhere people were seated. As he walked towards a more distant area of the park, he saw her.

She was sitting down and gave him a signal, a slight nod. He walked towards her. The closer he got, the slower he advanced. He never had seen so much beauty in a woman. She looked reserved and distant but friendly at the same time, and she looked at him, as if she was inspecting him. She pointed at the bench, next to her. Mesmerised he sat down. He didn't dare to look at her. Looking down he sat next to her. It seemed like hours, even though in reality it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before she touched his chin and turned his head towards her face.

At first she didn't say a thing, but her eyes were seeing right through him. After a while she asked him a question: 'Would you like to come with me?'. He swallowed several times. He couldn't speak. Instead he just nodded. It felt so right. As if he had been waiting his entire life for this meeting.

Slowly she got up. He got up as well, his knees trembling. Graciously she moved, wearing very high heels. As he didn't follow her rightaway, she looked back, impatiently, making clear she didn't have all day. He suppressed the trembling of his knees, and walked with her. She gave him the bags she was carrying, and said in a sweet voice: 'You can carry those for me, can't you?'.

It wasn't very far to her apartment. She lived in a very luxurious penthouse. He followed her timidly into the elevator. He felt overwhelmed with the elegance and luxury of her apartment. He barely dared to breathe as if his breath would ruin the atmosphere.

— To be continued —

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Images

In Too lazy to assign a category on December 17, 2006 at 1:57 pm

He. Did. Remember. While he was hanging in the most perfect Japanese bondage his Mistress had imposed on him as a disciplinary measure for three hours now, they came. The images. They sneaked up on him. They crawled up his spine, avoiding the carefully tied knots. He was breathing with some difficulty. Why was it he had to swallow more often? Was it in order to control his tendency to panic?

He desperately looked at the door his Mistress disappeared through about 10 minutes ago, knowing She wouldn't return for quite some time. She had checked upon his physical condition and didn't see a reason for liberating him from his awkward position. He hadn't given Her a sign either. Untill a few minutes ago, he felt just fine. At this very moment he wished the images in his mind would stop. He longed for the cruelest among her whips. Each whiplash would chase the thoughts. There would be nothing but physical pain. Physical pain he could deal with.

His body was covered with a thin layer of sweat. He was feeling cold. Shivers running down his spine were crossing the images. He tried to resist the flashes he was shown. He tried to think about something else. Anything else for that matter. If only the images wouldn't torture him.

The images were vague but gave him a stronge sense of discomfort. He couldn't situate the images. He felt this was important but he couldn't get the hang of it. Now that could have been a nice jeu de mots. He tried to focus on the imagery. Apparently he couldn't escape anyway. At least not for another hour as he didn't expect his Mistress to return any sooner than that.

Colours were hurting his eyes. Colours that welled up. He was in a rather neutral room. The colours took shape, If only he could determine what kind of shapes and what they meant. The colours were changing constantly. They didn't grant him time. They mixed. He felt fidgety. He was aware of his heart pounding in his throat. This was important and he didn't understand. It was like someone was talking to him in a language he didn't master. Was he losing it?

Assiduously he was trying to find some coherence. Never had he seen similar images. Not even in his worst nightmares. As he was absolutely sure he was wide awake, his incertainty became almost unbearable.

For a short while he was wondering whether his Mistress had put some kind of drug in the dog food she had made him eat. At the same moment he shook off that thought and felt embarrassed. For over 15 years she had been his Mistress and he would have given his life for her. She had transformed him from an insignificant little boy to the self-confident and successful man he was now. Her punishments were tough but always just. She lovingly corrected him and encouraged him to develop his talents. He loathed himself for even thinking she would have done such a thing.

He tried to make sense of the images. Somewhere there should be a key to decipher the chaos. Or was he trying to be too analytical? Should he perhaps try to feel the hidden meaning?

Right now he was just getting entangled. He felt his adam's apple go up and down. He was aware of his body dangling more than one metre above the floor. He felt each muscle, each body fibre. The feeling interfered with the images that bubbled up.

He tried to let go of this feeling which wasn't easy. Just a while ago it felt as if he didn't have a body, as if he was floating in the air. That wonderful sensation had however left him as soon as the images started to arise. Perhaps he should try to invoke that feeling again. Perhaps he should … Perhaps he should do nothing at all. Just surrender …

Surrender to what? Madness? He couldn't even think clearly. The images became more and more emphatic. As if they wanted to get the message through, no matter what. He tried to distinguish something familiar in the abundance that troubled him. Harassed him. At least that's how it felt. It hurt. He was afraid that once the mist would disappear, he would suffer even more. Perhaps he was unconsciously resisting, afraid he would't be able to cope. Afraid to discover something terrible, something he'd prefer not to know.

— To be continued —

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