Message-ID: <17402eli$9811192051@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/17402.txt> From: miramalin@aol.com (MiraMalin) Subject: Revels and power (M/f - mild d/s) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <19981116191905.20043.00001296@ngol02.aol.com> A romance with a little sex - enjoy and repost at your leisure but give Miramalin and milady J credit. The great room of the castle, was filled to capacity with the revellers. The walls lined with erotic art painted by her hand and poetry from ancient to new. Deep rich colors in dimmed lights set the scene for the play. Old settees, armoires filled with scarves, feathers and potions. Delights for the senses that she had never thought of before. Scents filled the room, she caught whiffs of musk, honeysuckle, vanilla and unknown exotics. But they blended into a sweet perfume. Her mind wandered to his hand on her back pushing her forward. Seeing her own paintings mixed on the walls with the others, she smiled and stepped forward to look closer, as the hawker shouted for the crowd to gather. They followed the call, the heat of so many, so close, was contagious in their costumes. The show, he shouted would be in three rooms. One of small delights, one of teased torture and one of love enmass. You may have your choice of any or all. But remember the midnight rule. All costumes removed and all masks aside. Take your time my guests, and do enjoy. With this people strode with purpose and with questiong glances toward rooms already being used in pleasure and pain. Big arched doors allowed numbers to glance inside at the sights. Seeing, to somes amazement, the joys others took in each other. And the imagination in their thoughts. She knew his choice would be of the teased tortures, he had not amazed her , his talk had been of it for weeks. When they entered the room, she found herself unprepared. The sights of men and women attached and bound for teasing pleasure, made her pull tight inside. His hand on her back, pushing her forward, already letting her know her position here. Finding herself in the centre of the room, he stood back and motioned. A hand waving slowly in the air and she was in a moments time standing naked for all to see. The women strong and fast in their chore of removing her costume. She did not run, but felt her stomach tighten, in fear, in anticipation, in wonder of what he had planned for her. It would not be long for his arms wrapped around her from behind and hugged her, saying how beautiful she was, then pulling her hands behind her and binding them with a scarf, pulling tight. Would she believe these words, these banal compliments that she would have otherwise brushed away like the moths around the candle of her exoticism. Yes, her mind told her, she would believe them even as she gazed upwards, above the lush tapestries that surrounded her in the room - the reds and yellow threads etching a hunting scene around her - but was she the hunter or the prey? Tied as she was, had she been captured or could she escape by raising her gaze above to the stars. She looked upwards at the hard dark gray stone, glistening with the condensation of a hundred celebrating bodies and all she could perceive was an endless turret of stone and a winding stair, steep and treacherous, where she might have to walk. Would she lose her nerve and be forced to crawl above the gathered host in blushing shame? Would this man, her would be lord, stand over her, attaching the collar of his possession round her fine pale white neck? And would he pull her up by the leash that would make her his for once and forever? Would she have to tremble on a string for his pleasure? Could she rely on his goodwill and charity, won through bowing her head and, when beckoned to his room, sharing his bed? She quivered in rage at the thought of such submission. No - she had the strength to outwit him, even with her satin gloved hands bound behind her she would see the way to rule over this man who spent so long staring into the gutter of humanity. These artificial revelries might strengthen his standing amidst the rabble but she, the princess of the true folk would rise up above this temporal dominance to overthrow his tower. She smiled even as he drew the blindfold over her eyes and closed the lights of a hundred glittering crystals from her. The white silk covering her eyes left her face looking flush to the onlookers - those who were gazing at her face that is - those whose eyes had not stooped to stare at her unclad body, pale in the flickering orange light - pale and vulnerable to the black gloved hand that quested round her treasures. Treasures indeed they were - this smooth pale unblemished skin of her neck flowing, rippling over the firm rounded breasts, that the leather hand cupped and teased, causing the emerald cross, luxuriating in the hollow between those tantalising hillocks to twist and turn. Two hundred eyes descended to the perfect curve of her flat stomach and paused at the entrancing whorl in her belly. And then, those eyes were torn away and those who dare gazed on a shadowy sex between alabaster thighs, the moisture gathering there, indicative of her strength of purpose or of the preemptive submission of her body to this new Master of her destiny. She seemed to shiver under the dark strength of this intruding hand - the hand of this would be ruler, who never had touched her flesh with his. Even though he might cup her trembling dampness now, they both knew that his control lay in the subtleties of his whispered commands. Was it but emblems and imagery, this power that at every step he conveyed to his slaves, his acolytes and the submissive creatures over whom he claimed ownership. "Well, my pet get out of this one," he whispered caustically. "You are mine now are you not, milady?" She said nothing but smiled, not sweetly and gently as he had come to expect, but almost threateningly, despite the bonds and the sense of sight that he had sought to steal from her. He started back at this veiled power before him and clapping his hands called forth slaves to force her to her knees before him - to impose his control. "Surrender to your master, pet," he hissed in her ear. " All will be right in my tender care." Reluctantly she knelt, but even as he spoke, he knew that he could not own her. He knew that she was a free spirit even as he sought to tame her. And he knew that he did not want to have this bird of prey crying raucously in the prison of his mind. Given the choice, the free will, he would far rather hold her in esteem. Feeling her eyes piercing through the blindfold, he stepped back again as if slapped. Suddenly, he was kneeling in front of her gazing attentively, adoringly into her face and reaching out to free her from the bonds that he had so foolishly sought to tame her with. The moisture that he had cupped so arrogantly before was now matched by the moisture on his cheek He drew the cloak from his shoulders and wrapped the soft creature in the velvet that he would clothe her in. He removed the blindfold and she looked into his eyes, unblinking, untamed. Then, wordlessly, with her freed hands she reached up to his cheek and felt the drops of precious moisture coursing down his face. Gazing at his moistened eyes, in the shine of the crystal, she saw ,reflected in his tears, the dreams she had so long sought - and she realised that her presence of mind and steadiness had won through to take him with her to delight and to the stars. Miramalin 11/98 -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>