Tag: Green Eyes

A New York Adventure

It was a typical late summer’s night in New York:  sultry, hot and humid.  It had just rained, but the night was clear now and the bright light of the Moon snuck down between the rooftops and kissed the glistening, wet streets.  As the special limo carrying my most beloved, adored, and worshiped Mistress Marquesa and myself, Her submissive, pliant, obedient, pink lingerie clad slave/slut girl Danielle careened downtown, I could see that the city was indeed alive, despite the obtrusive heat and very late hour. Read more…

Her Voice

            It began as part of my standard bit.

“Look at those tits!” Walter said. Walter Woodman, age seven going on seventy-five. Green hair. Freckled complexion. Always wears the same yellow-and-red plaid sports jacket with the same pair of light khaki pants and brown loafers. Height: 3’ 6”.

Walter is my ventriloquist dummy. We were in the middle of my act, doing a monthly gig at the bar lounge of a hotel near the beach. I had spotted her using my peripheral vision, which becomes acutely perceptive for those who do my line of work. At least, for those who do it well. She is older than me, but gorgeous: one of those women that puts out a high-beam erotic vibe, like some radiant version of the Spanish fly. I could see the men (and some women) around her fidgeting from sexual agitation. Read more…

Eternal Seduction

            “You’ve been staring at my legs for twenty minutes.”

            This statement awoke me from my reverie. I only realized that it was true on hearing it. In this age of pandemic, time and space occasionally seem to collapse in on themselves, leaving one disoriented and without bearings. I had wandered out of my apartment and taken a seat on a bench in the nearby park, enjoying the sun and cool breezes while maintaining the required “social distance” from my fellow human beings. I had begun staring at the legs of the woman who sat on the bench opposite mine, some ten feet away. Read more…

Tabula Rasa (con’t): Day 2 & 3

Day 2

The lights cut out on me suddenly as I was still writing my last entry. It was pitch black in the room, so I gave up writing and felt my way back into bed. She must have me on a sixteen hour “day” in here, though whether the period of lights-on, lights-out I experience correlates in any way to “daylight” in the outside world I couldn’t know.

Today was just as bizarre as yesterday. The lights coming back on in my cell woke me from strange dreams, in which I was being chased by a large golden bird over a barren landscape. I was disoriented for several minutes, and was about to begin pleading incoherently once more when the steel door opened and she entered, bringing me back into focus. Read more…

Giving Thanks

Giving Thanks

a story conceived by Goddess Marquesa

            The staff had asked me to arrive at the Whispering Angel Shelter at 5 AM, since that is when setup begins, but I was not inclined to get up that early on a holiday. When I arrived with my entourage at 9 on Thanksgiving morning breakfast was already being served. By the time Francine, the cute young photographer I had hired for the occasion, had finished taking pictures of me entering the shelter from various angles, it was almost 9:30 when I finally strapped on an apron and joined the other volunteers serving the last few breakfasts. Read more…

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