Have you heard of Violet Gordon Woodhouse (1872-1948)? Not many people have, which says much more about the sad state of society than it does about her. She was a brilliant musician, the greatest performer of baroque music in the world, perhaps in human history. Her recordings of composers like Bach are still appreciated today. Read more…
Tag: Kneel
It all started because of a bad review. An influential local blogger had panned my gallery exhibition the day after it opened. “Ivan Griel’s paintings lack depth and vibrancy,” the post began, and went downhill from there. It was the first time anyone had said or written anything so negative about my work, and it flummoxed me. Read more…
This time I’ve bitten off more than I could chew, not to say I have any regrets because I don’t, but I was with people who have been at this for a long time and I felt like a freshman. The events of this week began with an invitation to spend time with Mistress M. on Saturday and that it was just for fun, a social gathering and that it was not going to be a session, “How could I say no?” Read more…
It was 6:00am and the slave was still lying on the mattress in a corner of the room when Mistress Marquesa walked into the room. She wore a white sleeveless blouse and a white mini skirt which betrayed the flaming red underwear she had on. With a pair of transparent short spiked heel ankle boots.
The slave rushed to greet her on all fours as he had been instructed to and went straight to kiss the toe of her pointed boots.
“Stop there and crawl slave, I hate to find you still in bed.”
“I am not in a whipping mood today, but you will suffer just the same.
Lie on your back slave.” She commanded. Read more…
“What is this?” I asked, sipping the scotch my date had just poured me as I perused the décor of her condo.
“That is where I display my special slaves,” she said from across the parlor, as she finished pouring a drink for herself.
Up until that point it had been a very good date, which for me is saying something. A man does not get to my age as a bachelor without racking up a lot of dating experience, and I had not been so turned on by someone I had just met for a very long time. The mention of “slaves” was the first warning sign I had encountered, and it made me turn, just to make sure I had heard her right. Doing so gave me another look at her gorgeous legs and shapely ass, as she faced away toward a sideboard that held her liquor and glassware. Read more…
