Off With His Head

English: This is the Negoiu Peak from the Faga...
English: This is the Negoiu Peak from the Fagarasului Mountains. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Castle as ominous standing high atop the rugged terrain of the Transylvanian Alps.  The Castle’s appearance was made even more foreboding by the numerous human heads mounted on stakes lining the entrance to Castle Keep. Surely this must be a warning to the Master‘s enemies.

Hungry, tired, and in desperate need of rest, Alex made his way to the door of the Castle, where he was greeted by The Master‘s servant.

“Good evening, I am a weary soldier who has escaped from enemy capture, and I was wondering if your Master might offer rest and a meal, ” Alex introduced himself.

Yes, allow me to ring for my Master, ” the servant said, leaving him standing at the door.

In a matter of minutes The Master appeared before him,. He was statuesque in appearance and demeanor, and I could tell at once that he was not a man to be crossed.

” I understand that you have escaped from Enemy Forces. I have a long history with those foolish bastards. It would be my pleasure to offer you accommodations. My servant will prepare you a hot bath and ready you a room. We will dine promptly at six, ” he said before handing me off to his servant.

After my bath, I went into the room that was prepared for me, I had an hour before dinner was to be served. I laid on the Four Post Bed Fashioned of Mahogany Wood. The mattress was stuffed with down.  Silken sheets, I felt as if I were dreaming, and if I were dreaming, I did not want to wake up, for this was surely better than the mud soaked mess I escaped from.  I drifted off to sleep for a short time, and awoke to the pleasant sight of cleavage hovering above me.  The Mistress herself had come in to retrieve me for dinner.

“Darling, awaken, ” she whispered, “it’s time for Dinner, and we must not keep The Master waiting.”

“Yes, Mistress, ” I answered,wiping the sleep from my eyes.

Dinner was a feast, and I was famished. My benefactors made sure that I made extra helpings of Roast Boar, and Potatoes, along with all the Wine I could handle.  The more I drank, the more my curiosity peaked in regards to the staked heads lining the The Castle Keep. I was seated next to The Mistress who appeared to have wandering hands under the table, at first rubbing my thigh, then making her way to my manhood. I felt both guilt and incredible exhilaration from her actions for it had been a long time since I had felt the touch of a woman, yet The Master had shown me such a kindness in taking me in.

“Do you find my wife attractive?” The Master asked, catching me off guard.

I gulped. I didn’t know what to say. She was a voluptuous woman, with long raven tendrils, blue eyes that you could get lost in, a beautiful full round bottom, and nice full buxom breasts that you just want to suckle all day.

“She finds you attractive,” chuckled The Master.

“Yes, your wife is a very beautiful woman, ” I admitted.

“Good,  I’m happy to hear that you feel that way. My wife would like for you to join us for a drink in our private chambers tonight, ” he said with a wink.

My heart raced, The Mistress looked at me, licking her lips. I didn’t know what to say. She was a rare beauty, the thought of touching her made my mind want to burst into flames.

” I will be there, ” i responded.

I rapped softly on The Master’s Bedroom Door, he answered wearing a Purple Robe made of fine silk, holding a Brandy Snifter.

“Come in, friend. I have already poured you a drink, ” he said handing me the brandy.

The Mistress lay there in the bed in all her glory, bare, Her nipples stiffened as she massaged them alternately, her legs spread wide open exposing her juicy womanhood for the flowering beauty that it was to behold. She took one of her fingers and placed it upon the exposed hardness within her, fingering it fervently. Her moans made me stiffen.

“My wife is insatiable. She can not get enough pleasure. Many men have tried and failed. Now she has chose you. She likes to be licked by another man while I tend to her sensitive nipples. This gives her pleasure, and makes her spring forth juices like a fountain, ” The Master explained.

” Darling, Can’t we play the game this time?” chortled The Mistress

“Yes, My Pet. Anything you wish,” answered The Master.

“What Game?” I asked eagerly.

” She wants you to lick her and tend to her nipples at the same time while I watch, and if you can please her in under two minutes you win a prize. This should be easy, she’s pretty excited already, ” The Master answered.

I became so excited at the thought of my prize being able to make love to The Mistress, I exploded a bit in my pants,

She was so beautiful laying there, I placed my head between her thighs and grasped her hardened nipples and began twisting them gently. I searched out the erect spot that I had seen her fingering earlier and started to flick my tongue against it, she was pressing her mound into face as juices were flowing down my chin, She was like a ripe peach.

“Now!” I heard her scream.

I felt the steel blade come down on the back of my neck while she was grasping my hair.

My Head was put on a stake along The Castle Keep. This was the Game The Mistress enjoyed playing, called Off With His Head.


Mire Of Sin

Low resolution scan of engraving with caption ...
Image via Wikipedia

Perched here

In the second

Circle of Hell


To give you up

I cling to wanton lust

Desire drives me mad

Longing to give in

To hold you

In my arms

Though you  be

Promised to another

Dare we break the vows

Taken so long ago

And Plunge into the fire

Of The Lover’s Circle

The fiery mire of sin

From which eternal flames

Are fanned and fueled

Through seduction

Through Passion

Through Cursed Love


Love that Defies Death-Janie Cartier



Elizabeth could feel something was amiss that night she sent her beloved Patrick into town for supplies. The storekeeper was holding the package of essentials for her until Patrick made his way there to pick them up. Elizabeth lived a few miles outside of town in the country, on a dark country road. Patrick was her hired hand, at least that’s how it appeared to the outside world.


Sitting by her fire now, Elizabeth reminisced just how Patrick came into her life.  She had just inherited the farm from her father and had been staying there for a few months, and was actually thinking of selling, when a muscular man with dark curly locks, and the greenest eyes she had ever seen, knocked on her door.


“Afternoon, Miss”, he started, ” My name is Patrick O’ Shea, and I thought you might be able to use a hand on this farm.”


“I have to admit, I could use some help working the farm, and fixing things, I”m afraid the pay wouldn’t be much.” Elizabeth answered.


“Miss, all I ask is Room and Board, ” he added with a smile. A smile that melted her heart.


Patrick would go about the business of fixing up the old farm house, and tending to what few crops Elizabeth decided to plant, while Elizabeth concentrated on her writing. Eventually Patrick began tending to other needs as well, and accepted Elizabeth as his Mistress.


Elizabeth and Patrick had a fiery passion between them.  Although he never once touched her without permission, he was an electrifying lover, following her every command, succumbing to all her wanton lustful desires, willing to do anything to make her happy.


After one night of heated lovemaking, Patrick declared his love and devotion for her. ” Mistress Elizabeth, I love you, adore you. You own my very soul, not even the bonds of death could keep me from you.”


Right now Elizabeth had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Patrick should have been home hours ago. He was so devoted, it never occurred to her that perhaps he was in a pub with another woman. Suddenly that thought did pass across her mind, and she thought that she would give him a good flogging to set him straight for making her worry.


Elizabeth was startled at the pounding at the door. This couldn’t be Patrick, surely he would just enter.


Elizabeth opened the door slowly. Standing there were three men holding the lifeless body of her beloved Patrick!


“Miss, we found him down the road apiece. It appears he was thrown from the horse and struck his head on a rock. We know he was your man servant. Shall we bury him in the back for you? ”


Elizabeth stood there in a state of shock and disbelief. Patrick was so much more than a man servant.


“Yes, please. That is very kind of you. Could you place him by the cherry tree? He would often sit there and have his lunch.” Elizabeth managed to answer.


Later that night, Elizabeth lay in her bed crying for Patrick. She loved him, and needed him just as much as he needed her, perhaps more so.  She rose from her bed, and looked out her window to the cherry tree where he had been buried. The ground was torn asunder, and scattered everywhere. Chills ran up and down her spine as she recalled what he said to her , not even the bonds of death could keep him from her.


A door slammed downstairs. She heard water running. Could it be Patrick back from the dead?


Familiar footsteps crept up the stairs.


Elizabeth’s heart raced.


Her bedroom door burst open, and there he stood, smiling at her.


“Mistress, the next time you bury someone, make sure they are dead first, ” Patrick said before grabbing Elizabeth and throwing her to the bed.


The Quadroon Ball

French Quarter, New Orleans: Royal Street with...
Image via Wikipedia
A young Creole woman in a tignon of her own cr...
Image via Wikipedia

I met Jean Dupree at a Quadroon Ball in 1805. My mother had arranged for my placage with him.  He was a strikingly handsome man, blonde hair and blue eyes with skin as fine as porcelain. He was a banker and worked in finance.  My mother having earned her freedom from her Master by producing a light skinned heir for him which he adored, wanted to give me the same opportunities if not better ones than she had since her Master had abandoned her after I had grew older and the novelty had worn off.  I vowed to succeed to where my mother had failed,  I would own him. His heart, his mind, body and soul.

” I am enchanted, ” he said as he kissed my hand at the ball.” Would a creature as lovely as yourself encourage me further with her name?”

” Miss Chloe is my name , ” I said, feeling the heat rush to my face.

” Je vais vous appeller ma belle Chloe, ” he said with a smile in his eyes.

Realizing that I was becoming overcome by his charms, I found my voice.

” Et je vous vous appeller mon animal de compagnie.” I replied with a smile.

Jean decided that night that I would be spoiled and pampered. He bought me a fine home in a respected neighbourbood.  Our Furniture was imported from France , only the best would for his Belle Chloe.  I wanted for nothing, we went to all the parties so I had to have the finest apparel and best in jewels.

I knew how to keep Jean happy. I did truly own him, and yes he was my pet.

Sexually we were very liberal and that is what I think  the majority of my hold is over him, that mixed with true devotion and loyalty. Sexual Slavery with Men is a whole different realm, it’s just sad that more women don’t realize the true power they have within their grasp when they use it with their men.

I trained Jean to orally service me. He became quite good at this. Licking me until my juices flowed like a fountain. I had him do this first thing every morning. He would gently kiss my womanhood in the beginning, then begin to lap at me as I pushed myself against his mouth, he would insert his tongue and allow me to ride it until I was completely satisfied.

I loved Jean and in fact adored him. He was My Pet. It still struck me deep in the pit of my stomach that he paid My Mother for me. True enough I was a Light skinned colored woman, a Creole, but I still felt as if I was sold into slavery. White women didn’t charge for arranged marriages or have to go to Quadroon Balls to meet their intended.

Knowing that Jean was devoted to me, and very sexually liberal. I came up with a way to truly feel like I owned him. While at Market I picked up a Ginger Finger or the whole tubular root that is. Ginger has quite a sting to it. While in the bedroom one night I ordered Jean to bend over for me, and I had the Ginger Root which I had peeled,  and rammed it in Jean’s virgin rosebud. He squealed, but I kept going, sliding it in and out, nad to my surprise he achieved an orgasm, and declared that I own him.

I had succeeded where My Mother had failed.  Jean did not abandon me for another woman or family. We went on to have three children together, and when Jean died I inherited everything.

The Queen of Obscene

Satin sashes adorned her porcelain skin

Black Lace veiled her mystique

Dressed the part she lived

A torrid dark angel to feed his fire

She was the Queen of The Obscene

Her castle was a shack on the moor

The Bog and they bayou were her home

She lived a life of royalty befitting a queen

A fire blazed in her hearth as she kept court

Blazing passion burned in her soul for him

Purveyor of her soul, and her betrothed

The only one fit to share her bed, The BogfatherBoghouse

Troy’s Taunting

A pack of Marlboro Menthol Golds
A pack of Marlboro Menthol Golds (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Right from the start I had Troy, my older brother wrapped around my little finger. He adored me and would do anything for me. He brushed my long wavy hair, laid out my clothes, ran my bath, and was a true slave in every sense of the word as I look back on it now.


Troy was a few years older than me and was a rather handsome man, Strawberry blonde hair, baby blue eyes surrounded by a strong muscular build. Troy had strong, yet gentle hands, just like Daddy’s. I did enjoy it so when Troy rubbed my feet for me, or carried me up the stairs and put me to bed.


Daddy doted on us, which made it worse for me with Mother, who essentially dommed him. She was very controlling and manipulative, and I learned well from her how to get the things I wanted.


Mother used to switch Troy and us for the slightest infraction. Poor Daddy used to buy her bottles of perfume, and jewelry just to distract her from us children. Daddy took his fair share of whippings. Troy and I would listen as she made him cry out for her. Daddy always referred to Mother as Mommy, it was a term of endearment between the two of them. He was definitely her Slave Hubby, and would walk through hell for her. I vowed one day to have a Slave Hubby of my own.


Troy and I were blaring Peter Frampton one night, as Mother and Daddy went out for the evening, and we could blast the stereo, and play our guitars as loud as we wanted. We were smoking a bong and sharing a fifth of Imperial whiskey. Troy began to look into my eyes and sing softly and sweetly. ”I want you, to show me the way….”  His soft blue eyes were glassy, but there was no mistaking the adoration he held for me in his eyes.


I rose from the chair and loosened my bra. I let it fall to the floor. My full, round breasts exploded into the air. “Ah, I have wanted to do that all day. I love letting them bounce free, and when the air hits them, how my nipples get hard.” I leaned over him and let my nipple brush against his fingers while he strummed the guitar. He began to salivate, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth.


I ran my fingers through his thick wavy hair, I took the guitar out of his hand, and sat in his lap. I felt him grow beneath my ample bottom. I placed my erect nipple in his mouth, he sucked fervently, and I felt myself weaken as I met his eyes. I knew my power.  I felt it beneath my bottom.  I rubbed and grinded against his pulsing erection while he suckled me, he began to tremble. I felt a surge of warm wetness on my bottom, he had lost it on me, ejaculating all over my pretty pink panties.


I jumped up and grabbed his hair, “Troy, you little slut! You came on my new panties!” and I smacked him across the face. “Nasty Whore, you are going to sleep in these tonight!” I said handing them to him, and laughing wickedly.


Troy did as I commanded; he was putty in my hands and would do anything I told him to do at this point. “Brother, darling, model for me.” I ordered. In those pink panties, snugly, on his muscular buttocks, he was a sight to behold. His cock sprung forth, giving away his excitement at his own humiliation by my hands.


I sat back in my chair and lit up a Marlboro Menthol telling him to come lay under my feet. “Rub my feet, Troy. “  He massaged them tenderly, kissing each toe. He looked up at me and I began to masturbate in front of him, forcing him to watch me writhe and moan as my wetness trickled down my thighs. I rolled my foot across his engorged and leaking cock. A tear streamed down his face. It was then that I realized I needed this as much as he did. To see those tears of love and adoration. I grabbed Troy’s golden locks, and pulled him up between my legs, with an anomalistic lust, he thrust into me. Exploding with rich fiery ribbons of love for me, Troy taught me what a submissive was.


The Waltz of The Mad Monk In Hell

waltzing on water

ablaze from passion

possessing the souls

wrapped in their filth

the mystical mad monk

savoring the sweet nectar

with fiery eyes and longing kisses

his angel came as a beam of light

bejeweled eyes and smelling of roses

whispering sweet songs of seduction

the holy man and the succubus danced

the waltz of the mad monk in hellsuccubus