Tag: Submission

DEVOTION

I am a very bad man, thus in a sense none of this should have come as a surprise. When one makes a “living” out of killing, karma is bound to catch up eventually. Even so, if you had given me a thousand chances to guess how it would all end, I would never have landed on this.
When I learned that my target was a “Goddess” I actually laughed. That was how far gone I was. Murdering a divinity seemed like kicks. Something new for the scrapbook. Read more…

Calling Card

 

Danvers looked at the card again, wondering. It was encased in a cream white envelope, his name and address inked carefully on its face in a beautiful calligraphic hand. He could tell it was a card from its stiffness: whatever it contained was made of something much more resilient than paper. The only mark apart from the address was the monogram GM, printed on the back in large ornamental script.

Curious, Danvers broke the seal and lifted the flap of the envelope. A heavenly scent emanated from inside, a very distinctive and alluring perfume. The card itself was made of stock the same cream shade as the envelope. On its front was drawn a heart with an arrow through it. Inside, in the same hand that had written the address, was a short poem: Read more…

O Muse

There is no narrative without memory, and so for me the story begins when I woke up on the floor, curled up naked on the carpet at the foot of my queen-size bed. It had been a deep, dreamless sleep. Drool had dried on the corner of my mouth and still soaked part of the shag under my cheek. I was disoriented for several minutes, as one sometimes is upon awakening in a strange hotel room on vacation. The fact that I was seeing my own bedroom from a completely new angle deepened my sense of dislocation: creating the queasy clash of the familiar and the unfamiliar in the same glance.

Shakily I rose to my feet and looked about. Late morning sun streamed in through my un-shaded window. By its light I could see the outline of a figure in my bed. As my eyes focused I could see it was a woman. My mind was just beginning to process how beautiful she was when, without stirring or opening her eyes, she spoke. Read more…

THE CANDIDATE

Goddess Marquesa smiled benevolently at the man seated across from her. “Calm down,” she soothed. “Everything is all right.” The man was trembling. He glanced around the dark bar, scanning to see if he had been recognized despite the hat and dark glasses he wore.

“What have you done to me?” he asked. “What was in that bottle?” Read more…

Elana

Elena was as stunning as she was kinky. At 50, she still had the body (and the sex drive) of a woman half her age. Blonde, with hypnotically green eyes, long legs and full breasts, she remained the cool, confidant domme who had begun turning older men into groveling slaves before she was a teenager.
Jack was one of The Chosen Few, a group of half a dozen carefully selected slaves who had the privilege of serving Elena. Inclusion in the group was the result of merciless (and never-ending) testing. Read more…

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