Goddess Marquesa glanced down at the invitation once again. Yes, this was the right address. The grim Gothic mansion looked quite out of place among the pastel-hued condominiums of her West Florida beach neighborhood. She pressed the button next to the door. As an echoing metallic bell sounded from deep within the mansion, the Goddess thought she saw a bat circle quickly around the mansard roofed tower looming over the shallow portico. This place has just the right ambience for Halloween, she thought to herself. Read more…
Tag: Legs
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…
Clark was livid. Not that this was an unusual state for him to be in. Not at all. That was, ironically enough, really at the root of the current problem. Of course, with Clark, there was ALWAYS a problem, or a crisis or a situation, or SOMETHING that he (and ONLY he) could repair and set to right. This was because Clark was one of those self appointed “General Manager of the Universe” types who felt that no one else was really capable or competent enough to get the job done, and done right; whatever that job was. He was a stereotypical hard-charger who would never admit to meeting his match – even if he had! He was about to have his male ego’s perfect track record disrupted, however, and here is where our story begins. Here is where Clark’s reign as “Lord and Master of All He Surveys” would end, and he wouldn’t even know it. Read more…
“Harlot!”
The preacher at the podium screamed the word into his microphone, making it reverberate through the enormous, brightly lit sanctuary of the megachurch, in which hundreds of congregants were gathered for Sunday services. Like the other churchgoers, Goddess Marquesa was startled.
Her surprise intensified when she saw her own face appear on the giant LED screen mounted behind the preacher, which until that moment had been projecting placid images of wide prairies and sunny shorelines. Looking at the ceiling toward the front of the large auditorium, she saw the remote-controlled camera that had surreptitiously been trained on her. It had caught her in an upper-torso focus, so that the assembly got to take in the blond locks, emerald eyes, classic features and voluptuous breasts that gave her such seductive appeal. Read more…
“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…
